Page 17 of Whispers

ally Miranda, and finally Paul. “Dad might have told you that he thought the Taggerts had moved here with the express purpose of running him out of business, but that wasn’t true.”

Her father snorted. “Neal should have stuck to shipping up in Seattle.”

“They moved down here in the fifties, I think,” Claire continued, glancing from Miranda to Styles.

“Nineteen fifty-six.” Dutch opened a glass humidor and fingered a cigar.

“Anyway, Dad took it as a personal insult that he’d have some competition.”

“I knew it, that Harley brainwashed you!”

“Jesus, Dad,” Tessa said, as Dutch bit off the end of his cigar and spit it into the fireplace. “You called us all up, insisted that we show up here and spill our guts, then when Claire tries, you start insulting her. I’m outta here.” She tossed back her drink, snagged her purse, and headed for the door.

“No, wait—” Dutch shoved himself out of the recliner and wincing as he put weight on his bad knee, hurried after his youngest, bullheaded, daughter. But Tessa wasn’t about to stay and be insulted. Within seconds an engine fired to life. Tessa’s Mustang roared away.

“Go ahead,” Styles said to Claire. His hands were forced into the pockets of his beat-up jacket, and he seemed less stiff and unbending than he had when he’d first entered. “What about the Taggerts?”

“They’re originally from Seattle. As Dad mentioned, the family had some kind of shipping operation up there started by his great-grandfather, I think.”

“Old Evan Taggert, Neal’s grandfather,” Dutch said, puffing on his cigar as he strode into the room again. Agitation caused a tic to quiver near his temple. “Sorry about Tessa. Sometimes she’s a hothead, but she’s staying at the resort—a suite in the north wing. You can call her later.”

“I will,” Denver said, then nodded toward Claire, urging her to continue.

“Anyway, Harley’s dad wanted to do something different.”

“Making millions shipping out of Puget Sound wasn’t good enough, I guess,” Dutch grumbled. “So he started buying all the cheap land on the Oregon coast he could get his hands on. You can’t buy much beach property in Washington, it’s all owned by the Indians—reservations, so Neal decided to horn in on my territory. The bastard envisioned himself as the premier developer of this stretch of land, settled himself and his family around Chinook.”

“And in direct competition with you.”

“You got it.” Scowling, Dutch finished his drink and set the glass onto the table by his folded newspaper. “Scammed me out of a prime piece around Seaside. Built himself Sea Breeze right after I’d started construction of Stone Illahee.” Dutch drew on his cigar until the ash glowed red. “Bastard.”

“So how did you feel about Claire marrying into the Taggert family?”

“I hated it.”

“How badly?”

Dutch’s eyes narrowed on Denver. “Look, I didn’t hire you to insinuate that I had something to do with the kid’s death. Believe me, if I would have killed him, no one would think it was anything other than an accident.”

“Stop it!” Miranda ordered.

“I can’t listen to this another second.” Claire was on her feet, her insides quivering. “I don’t know what you thought you’d accomplish by hauling us all up here, but as far as I’m concerned it’s over. Past history.” She scrounged in her purse, found the keys, and started for the door.

“We have more to discuss,” Dutch insisted, rising again from his chair.

Claire held a hand up as she left, cutting off any further protests. “Later.”

“But I want you to stay here, at the house. I thought we’d agreed.”

“It was a bad idea.”

“Your kids need a home, Claire, not some cheap apartment that has no meaning for them. Here they can have the run of the place, we can get some horses again, they can canoe and swim. There’s the lake, tennis courts, pool—”

“I can’t be bought, Dad.” But she hesitated. Her weak spot was her kids, and Dutch knew it.

“I’m not buying you. I’m just offering to help out. For Sean and Samantha’s sake.” She wanted to trust him, to believe that he was developing some latent grandfatherly feelings for his only grandchildren. “Your mother never liked it here, but you did. Of all the kids, you enjoyed living in this place.”

That much was true. Still . . . she didn’t want to take any handouts. They always came with a hidden price tag. For the first time in her life she was standing on her own two feet. “I don’t think so, Dad.”