Possessions by Judith Michael

“Craig’s sister.”

Chapter 4
    D EREK Hayward refilled his glass with the special Scotch his grandmother kept on hand for his visits and looked thoughtfully across the room at the woman his brother had foisted on the family: a Canadian housewife as out of place in Victoria’s elegant home as a field mouse among orchids. Katherine Fraser. Wife of Craig Fraser. Who, if Ross had it straight, was in fact their cousin Craig Hayward. Long gone, long forgotten. They’d thought.
    Why the hell had Ross been in such a hurry to bring her here? Without giving them a chance to talk about her, even to get used to the idea of her, he decided on his own to invite her and her offspring to meet them. And without a whimper Victoria went along. So here they were—a family dinner. Even Jason and Ann, coming out of hiding in Maine to meet Katherine Fraser and hear about their son, their golden boy. Who, after all, hadn’t drowned fifteen years ago. Who had only run away. And now, it seemed, had done it again.
    Derek smiled thinly. Trust Craig, he thought, to act like Craig. Absently swirling his Scotch, he watched Katherine as she talked to the rest of the family, and wondered what she was like beneath that drab facade. There had to be more, hethought; Craig had always liked good-looking women. But this one had no poise or sophistication, no glamour, no beauty . . . well, maybe. Good bone structure in her face, unusual eyes—might be interesting if she fixed herself up and stood straight instead of dragging down every line of her face and body. He shrugged. What difference did it make? If she really was Cousin Craig’s wife—and the photograph she’d shown Ross seemed to prove it—the only thing that mattered was that she was here, a stand-in for her husband, and they’d have to find out what she wanted from them, and what she really knew about Craig.
    The others were clustered about her at one end of the vast drawing room of Victoria’s penthouse. Almost fifteen years since they were all together, but still they were more interested in Craig’s wife than in each other. Even absent, the son of a bitch managed to make himself the center of attention. Something else he’d always done.
    Derek looked away, giving the room a cursory inspection as he did on every visit, to make sure Victoria was keeping the place up. It was worth a fortune; far more than the fortune that had been spent on it since his grandfather bought the top two floors of the building and remodeled them twenty-five years ago. The old man had been a genius, Derek reflected. Long before restoration became chic, he made the Hayward name famous for the kind of expensive custom work that rebuilt without destroying the best of the old. And everything he knew went into his own home, from the smallest carved moldings to the huge marble fireplaces and the ceiling-high Tiffany window. Superb workmanship. It had been at the heart of every lesson Hugh Hayward’s grandsons learned under his direction and still remembered and used, even if it was in the modern glass and steel towers that Derek preferred. At least, Derek amended, I remember, and I suppose Ross does. Who knows what Craig remembers?
    Craig again. Always there. Intruding. Across the room, that Canadian housewife stood between Ross and Victoria, reminding everyone that he was alive and could turn up any day. Possibly in Vancouver but, now that Ross had brought her here, just as likely in San Francisco, back to their big happy family and the construction company that Derek had been running for years without interference.
    â€œA fearsome, ferocious frown,” Melanie commented lightly, coining up beside him. “Who’s the latest target?” She followed his gaze. “Oh. Ross’s new toy.”
    He took a moment to approve her sleek good looks and the curve of her silk dress, then asked casually, “And what do you make of her?”
    She