First Impressions

Shane’s coolness, Anne continued. “I can’t tell you how mistaken I was in him, how foolish it feels to know I was deceived into thinking he was a kind, charming man.” She didn’t add that he had failed, again and again, to get her the kind of parts that would lead to the fame she craved—or that she’d already begun to cultivate a certain producer she felt would be more successful. In any event, Leslie had begun to bore her to distraction. “There’s nothing more devastating than to have failed in love.”
    You’ve had practice, Shane thought, but held her tongue.
    “These past few months,” Anne added on a sigh, “haven’t been easy.”
    “For any of us,” Shane agreed, understanding Anne too well. “Gran died six months ago. You didn’t even bother to come to the funeral.”
    Anne had been ready for this. With a tiny sigh, she dropped her eyes to her soft, pampered hands. “You must know how badly I felt, Shane. I was finishing a film. I couldn’t be spared.”
    “You couldn’t find the time for a card, a phone call?” Shane asked. “You never even bothered to answer my letter.”
    As if on cue, Anne’s lovely eyes filled with tears. “Darling, don’t be cruel. I couldn’t—I just couldn’t put the words down on a piece of paper.” She drew a delicate swatch of silk from her breast pocket. “Even though she was old, somehow I felt she would just live forever, always be here.” Mindful of her mascara, she dabbed at the tears. “When I got your letter telling me she was . . . I was so devastated.” She lifted beautifully drenched eyes to Shane’s, waiting while a single tear trickled gently down her cheek. “You of all people must know how I feel. She raised me.” A little sob caught in her throat. “I still can’t believe she’s not in the kitchen, fussing over the stove.”
    Because the image tore at her own grief, Shane knelt at her mother’s feet. She’d had no family to mourn with her, no one to help her through the wrenching, aching hours after the numbness had passed. If she had been unable to share anything else with her mother throughout her life, perhaps they could share this. “I know,” she managed in a thick voice. “I still miss her terribly.”
    Anne began to think the little scene had a great deal of possibility. “Shane, please forgive me.” Anne gripped her hands, concentrating on adding a tremor to her voice. “I know it was wrong of me not to come, wrong to make excuses. I just wasn’t strong enough to face it. Even now, when I thought I could . . .” She trailed off, bringing Shane’s hand to her damp cheek.
    “I understand. Gran would have understood too.”
    “She was so good to me always. If I could only see her one more time.”
    “You mustn’t dwell on it.” Those very thoughts had haunted Shane’s mind a dozen times after the funeral. “I felt the same way, but it’s better to remember all the good times. She was so happy here in this house, doing her gardening, her canning.”
    “She did love the house,” Anne murmured, casting a nostalgic eye around the old summer parlor. “And I imagine she’d have been pleased with what you’re doing here.”
    “Do you think so?” Earnestly, Shane looked up into her mother’s damp eyes. “I was so sure, but still sometimes . . .” Trailing off, she glanced at the freshly painted walls.
    “Of course she would,” Anne said briskly. “I suppose she left the house to you?”
    “Yes.” Shane was looking around the room, remembering how it had been.
    “There was a will, then?”
    “A will?” Distracted, Shane glanced back at her. “Yes, Gran had a will drawn up years ago. She had Floyd Arnette’s son do it after he passed the bar. She was his first client.” Shane smiled, thinking how proud Gran had been of the fancy legal terms that “sassy Arnette boy” had come up with.
    “And the rest of the estate?” Anne prompted, attempting to curb her impatience.
    “There was the house and land of course,” Shane answered, still looking back. “Some stocks I sold to pay the taxes and the funeral expenses.”
    “She left everything to you?”
    The tightness in Anne’s voice didn’t penetrate. “Yes. There was enough cash in her savings to handle most of the repairs on the place, and—”
    “You’re lying!” Anne shoved at her as she sprung to her feet. Shane grabbed the arm of the chair to keep from toppling; then, too stunned to move, she stayed on the floor.