THE ridiculous thing wasâso Jenessa Strathern decided afterwardâthat she had no sense of premonition when the telephone rang around seven oâclock on that sunny May evening. Nothing warned her to ignore the ringing, or told her to run outdoors and hide her head among the hydrangeas.
So much for feminine intuition.
Sheâd just stopped work, because the light was fading and she was so close to finishing this painting that she didnât want to risk any mistakes. Scrubbing a dab of alizarin crimson from her fingers with a stained rag, she picked up the receiver. âHello?â
âHi, Jen,â her brother said. âGot a minute?â
She smiled into the receiver, plunking herself down in the nearest chair.
Travis Strathern, older than she by six years, lived in Maine with his wife, Julie, and their three-week-old daughter, Samantha. âFor you,â she said, âall the time in the world. How are you? Or I should say, howâs Samantha?â
âAre you suggesting Iâve been usurped?â
âSamanthaâs cuter than you.â
âI canât argue with that. Guess what? She can smile and hold on to my finger all by herself. Amazing, huh?â
Travis was a doctor who had a great many letters after his name and was highly qualified in tropical diseases. âAmazing,â Jenessa said solemnly.
âSheâs the reason Iâm calling. Sheâs going to be christened in three weeks, and weâd like you to come. More than that, weâd like you to be her godmother.â
Touched, Jenessa said, âThatâs sweet of you, Travis. But you do realize Iâm a total dunce when it comes to babies? When you passed her to me in the hospital, I couldnât wait to pass her backâI was terrified Iâd drop her.â
âYouâll learn,â Travis said. âAnyway, she wonât stay a baby for long. So youâll come?â
Jenessa hesitated. âWhereâs the christening taking place?â
âI knew youâd ask,â Travis said wryly. âOn Manatuck, at Dad and Corinneâs. Do come, though, Jenâ¦itâs time you and Dad buried the hatchet, wouldnât you say? Especially now thereâs another generation in the picture.â
She should say yes. She really should. It would hurt Travisâs feelings if she didnât. As a child, sheâd hero-worshiped her big brother, and as adult she both loved and respected him. Besides, she owed him a great deal, and although she hadnât seen a lot of Julie, she genuinely liked her. Julie had nearly lost Samantha in the fourth month of pregnancy; as a result, she and Travis had delayed a posting to Mexico until after the birth. So Samantha, Jenessa knew, was doubly precious to both of them.
So what if the christening was on Manatuck Island? She could surely behave in a civil fashion to Charles Strathern for a few hours, no matter that she normally avoided him like the plague.
But as Jenessa opened her mouth to accept the invitation, her brother added, âThereâs another reason I want you to come. Weâve asked Bryce to be Samanthaâs godfatherâ¦you know who I mean, Bryce Laribee, my old school friend?â
The color fled from Jenessaâs cheeks and her heart began to thud as though a mallet was banging against her ribs. She made an indeterminate noise, her cold fingers clenched around the smooth plastic of the receiver. Oblivious to her reaction, Travis went on, âI donât think youâve ever met him. Although thatâs hard to believeâIâve known him since I was twelve. But nowâs your chance. Heâs a great guy, youâll like him.â
Travis was wrong: Jenessa had met Bryce. Once, many years ago. And the feelings sheâd had for him could scarcely be called liking.
She wasnât about to tell her brother that, however. Some secrets were better kept, her lovemaking with Bryce Laribee being right up there at the top of the list. The only trouble with secrets, she now thought unhappily, is that they brought deception in their wake. She had no intention of ever finding herself within ten miles of Bryce again; but she couldnât tell her brother that, either.
âJen? Are you there?â
Frantically she tried to gather her wits. She had to get out of this somehow, which meant sheâd have to stretch the truth. Considerably. What other choice did she have? She said, doing her best to sound convincing, âTravis, Iâm sorryâ¦but I canât take the time. Itâs a long drive all the way up to Maine from here, and I have a show opening in Boston early in July. At the Morden Gallery, so you know what that means.â