Another Homecoming by Janette Oke, Davis Bunn Page B

rise to the ranks of true power. It was not that Abigail was after more money. She already had more than she would ever be able to spend. It was the power to shape and control people’s lives, to bend them to her will, to see them bow and scrape and acknowledge her as the leader she had been born to be.
    It was her destiny to rule.

    Kyle entered the grand formal hallway at the front of the house, then stopped. Voices resounded in the distance. Loud voices. Hesitantly she walked forward, not because she wanted to, but because of her mother’s orders to present herself before the guests arrived.
    The closer she drew to the tall double doors leading to the library, the more it seemed as though the entire house was holding its breath. Even through the stout oak portals, Abigail’s voice sounded very angry. “I simply cannot fathom why on earth you would invite that—that boy into our home!”
    “Kenneth Adams is twenty-five years old, hardly a boy. As a matter of fact, he’s only two years younger than Crawley.” Lawrence Rothmore’s voice sounded both tired and stubborn. “And he is more mature than some men twice his age.”
    “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
    “Nothing, Abigail. I am simply trying to end this silly discussion.”
    “Silly, is it? You are choosing to bring a common office worker into my house, and you call it silly?”
    “His father is a respected pastor. Ken graduated with honors from Princeton at the age of twenty, played quarterback on their varsity squad, and has been an exemplary employee of ours for almost five years now. I hardly call that common. To be honest, I am amazed that my choice of an assistant can leave you feeling so . . . so threatened.”
    “Threatened? Me?” Abigail’s laugh sounded brittle. “Don’t be absurd.”
    “Like it or not, he is my new personal assistant. You’re always telling me I need to slow—”
    “What’s the matter with Randolf?”
    “Young Crawley? You know quite well, Abigail, Crawley’s father has retired. Randolf has been appointed to take his seat on the board. I can hardly expect our newest board member to run my errands, now, can I?”
    There was a moment’s hesitation before Abigail changed tack with, “In any case, you must admit this Kenneth person is a poor substitute for the real thing.”
    Kyle knew her mother, should she open the door, would be furious to find her listening there. But she could not move. She felt glued to the spot. Though her name had not been mentioned even once, she had the feeling that this entire quarrel had something to do with her. Something bad.
    Her father’s voice rose a notch. “What on earth are you talking about?”
    “You know very well what I mean. You’re always forming these absurd attachments with protégés. We should have had a son, just like I said.”
    Kyle stiffened. A son! She had always dreamed of having a baby brother. But her mother had never allowed her to even mention it. Kyle could scarcely believe her ears. Her mother had wanted a son?
    Her father’s astounded laugh rang through the closed doors. “Like you said? In case you have forgotten, Abigail, I was the one who begged you for a son after Kyle—”
    “Don’t be petty. I meant instead of—”
    “That is more than enough.” A new tone had entered her father’s voice. A dangerous coldness. “I want no more of that. Not ever.”
    Clearly Abigail realized she had gone too far, for her voice took on a conciliatory note. “But to invite him into our house, especially tonight when so much hangs upon—”
    “Our daughter is just fifteen years old.” A trace of anger grated in Lawrence’s voice.
    “And growing up fast,” Abigail retorted.
    “That’s right, she is.” Behind the closed doors, Kyle was able to visualize her father’s determined strength in standing up for her. “Which means that in time she will grow into handling her own affairs.”
    “Oh, really, Lawrence.” Scorn dripped from