Weekend Agreement by Barbara Wallace Page A

or no answer. The silence grew worse as they landed and loaded their bags into the car. At first she was surprised that Daniel had rented a car for such short distance, but then remembered what he had said about being a passenger. Poor guy really was at the mercy of his stomach, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
    As they pulled onto the main road, she checked her watch. “Five o’clock,” she noted.
    “Right on time for cocktails,” was the acerbic response. “Lucky us.”
    “We can always take the long route. Delay our arrival.”
    He glanced over at her. “Nervous, are we, Professor?”
    The crisp businessman had returned. Charlotte flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. “You’re the one who implied he wanted to drag his feet.”
    “On the contrary, I could use a good stiff drink.”
    “Even after—” She left the rest of her words hanging.
    “Especially after.”
    He turned onto a sand-covered access road, surrounded by thick coastal shrubs. The area was so remote, Charlotte at first wondered if he’d changed his mind and they were delaying their arrival. Then, the road curved again and the brush parted to reveal acres of lush green grass. Ahead of them sat a large gray stone-and-shingle house, alone and majestic.
    Another glance toward the driver’s seat revealed that Daniel’s profile was darker than ever. It made his comment about not being close to his family sound like an understatement.
    “Is it that bad? Coming home,” she added, when he looked her way.
    “I can think of better ways to spend my weekend.”
    “No insult intended, I’m sure.”
    “Professor, your presence is the most tolerable of the lot.”
    She tried not to be too flattered by his answer. “Why come then, if being here makes you so miserable?”
    “Because this is a major anniversary and it’s expected.” He parked the car next to a gleaming black Jaguar with the personalized plate “Naut1.” “However painful this weekend may be, it pales compared with the grief I’d get if I failed to attend. Being the wealthier and better-known son, my attendance is not only expected, it’s required.”
    Charlotte was about to question whether that was simply his arrogance talking, when the front door opened and an elegant-looking woman in her early sixties appeared on the front step.
    “Finally!” she sighed with exasperation. “We’re halfway through cocktails.
    Daniel’s mother wore an impeccably pressed linen sundress that made Charlotte wonder if wrinkles had a fear of Daniel’s family. In fact, everything about Daniel’s mother was impeccable, from her chin-length bob to smooth and tanned skin. Charlotte suddenly regretted her decision to go casual.
    “We got hung up on the Tunnel,” Daniel said. Afraid I can’t control rush-hour traffic.” Thinking of their earlier conversation, Charlotte made a note to remind him of that fact.
    “You need to start leaving your office earlier, then.”
    A diamond stud glittered on her earlobe as she held out a cheek for a kiss, which Daniel perfunctorily provided before introducing Charlotte.
    Vivian Ferncliff looked her over with a dismissive flick of her pale blue eyes. “How nice you could join us.” Her smile was broad and brittle. It was obvious she expected someone more glamorous. “The boys are waiting on the veranda.”
    She turned on her heel, her erect posture and precise movements indicating they were to follow. Before stepping into the house, Charlotte reached out and touched Daniel’s arm. “Boys?” It suddenly occurred to her that she knew absolutely nothing about Daniel’s family.
    “My stepfather and stepbrother. Mother always refers to them as her boys.”
    “You too?” It was hard to picture anyone calling him a boy.
    “Hardly.” His eyes fell to the fingers resting on his jacket. Slowly, he lifted her hand free, his thumb grazing across the peaks of her knuckles. Even though she was sure the caress was accidental, Charlotte still felt the