What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(44)

“How nice.” Carmen smiled. “What are they doing with their lives?”

“Doing?”

Good. God. “Are they working?”

“Oh well, they work for Lawrence.” Vi gave a vague wave of her hand. “I’m not sure exactly what they do.”

“Are they married? Do they have kids?”

“No.”

Carmen grimaced. She wasn’t sure if the woman would have noticed if there’d been a couple weddings and a dozen kids.

“At least they live close enough for you to spend time with them,” she forced herself to say.

“Not really. They’re both very busy,” Vi said. “And they travel a lot.”

Carmen’s fingers tightened on the arm of her chair. “Travel where?”

“All over.”

Vi’s eyes drifted back toward the door and Carmen knew she’d lost her again. She sighed. It was like trying to scoop water out of a bucket with her bare hands.

Rising to her feet, she aimlessly wandered across the room, glancing out the window that offered a view of the side garden. When she was very young, her mother would set up a table in the garden so they could have a tea party with her dolls.

The memory was interrupted as she caught sight of a car pulling past the house to halt in front of the nearby garage. She stepped closer to the window, craning her neck to watch as a man climbed out of the vehicle.

He was average height and looked slender beneath his leather coat. His hair was a sandy blond and tousled from the breeze. She guessed his age to be late twenties.

“Who is that?” she asked.

There was a rustle of expensive silk as Vi shifted in her chair, but she didn’t bother to rise to her feet.

“Excuse me?”

Carmen’s gaze remained locked on the man who had moved to open the trunk of the car.

“Someone just arrived.”

“It could be one of the boys,” Vi said. “Or maybe Andrew.”

Carmen frowned. The man was glancing toward the garage, not the main house, but he was too young to be Andrew.

“Is Ronnie around?” she demanded.

“Who?”

Carmen rolled her eyes. Of course her aunt didn’t recognize the name. She was no doubt lucky to remember her own.

“Andrew’s son.”

“Oh. I suppose he comes to visit his dad, but I haven’t seen him.”

Carmen turned back to study Vi’s blank face. “He doesn’t live in the area?” she asked. Blink, blink, blink. Carmen shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll be back.”

Grabbing the coat that she’d draped over the back of her chair, Carmen allowed her distant memories to lead her out of the room and down the hallway to a side door. Stepping into the small garden, she crossed the paving stones at an angle, managing to intercept the young man as he neared the side of the garage that led to the private apartment.

“Ronnie?” she called out.

The man halted, seeming to pause before he slowly pivoted to watch her hurry toward him.

“Can I help you?”

Close up, Carmen could make out the thin features. The narrow nose and tight slash of a mouth. His cheekbones were high, and he had pale blue eyes that were surrounded by sandy lashes. His skin was pale and pocked with old acne scars.

Her gaze lowered to take in the cheap coat, and the worn overnight suitcase he was carrying in one hand.

“I’m Carmen Jacobs,” she said in bright tones. “I used to live here with my parents.”

His brows drew together. “Carmen?”

“Carrie,” she added.

“Carrie.” The pale eyes widened. “Of course. I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“It’s been a while.” She glanced toward the bag in his hands. “Are you visiting your family?”

“Just Andrew,” he said. “My mother passed last year.”

Carmen didn’t have to fake her pang of sympathy. From what she could remember, Ronnie had been very close to his mother. She also remembered he’d always called his father Andrew. Maybe because he wasn’t his real father, or just because the two didn’t get along.

“I heard. I’m so sorry.”

He offered a pained grimace. “She was sick for a long time. It was a blessing, really.”

Carmen nodded. “It’s still hard.”

“Yes.”

“Do you live in the area?”

Ronnie shook his head. “No, but Andrew insisted I come back for Christmas. The past year has been difficult for him.” He glanced from her to the looming mansion. “Are you moving back to Louisville?”

She couldn’t entirely squash her shudder. Even after fourteen years this place haunted her dreams.

“No. Just passing through.”

His gaze remained on the big house, as if wondering why anyone would walk away from such luxury. Understandable. Looking at the wealthy from a distance always made it seem as if they lived golden lives.

You had to be beneath the roof to realize they were just as messed up as everyone else.

“I suppose you’re having Christmas with the family?” he finally asked.

“That’s the plan.” She shrugged. “Although, I have to admit that they really don’t feel like they’re my family after all these years.”