Hidden Talents

most of his youth trying to please. “Yes, sir.”
    “What's that supposed to mean?”
    “It means you have my respect, sir. You will always have that.”
    Roland's eyes glittered with frustrated fury. He had demanded an acknowledgment of the respect Caleb owed him, and Caleb had given it to him. It wasn't enough and they both knew it.
    There had once been more, Caleb realized. Sometimes he got the uneasy feeling there still was. But Roland had never shown any signs of wanting love from him, and whatever warmth there had been between them had simply withered away.
    “Then answer my question,” Roland said. “Are you going to give me grandchildren to guarantee a future for this family or not?”
    “Haven't I always given you everything you've ever wanted?” Caleb asked softly. “Haven't I always done everything you've ever asked me to do?”
    “Then why don't you get on with it,” Roland exploded.
    “First, I've got to find a woman who will overlook my bad bloodlines.”

    Serenity stopped in front of the large, glass-fronted display cabinet that stood in the breakfast room. She surveyed the contents with interest. Row after row of gleaming trophies, blue ribbons, merit badges, and plaques lined each shelf. Several were for horsemanship. Some were for Scouting activities. A few honored marksmanship skills. Others were for various academic achievements.
    “Good heavens, Dolores, did Caleb actually win all of these?”
    “Sure did.”
    “Amazing.” Serenity studied a gleaming trophy at the end of one row. It commemorated the winning of a championship baseball game. Caleb had apparently been the pitcher.
    Dolores set glass bowls containing grapefruit at each place on the table. “That boy used to bring home honors and awards and trophies like you wouldn't believe. If he went after something, none of the other kids stood much of a chance.”
    “I didn't realize Caleb was so competitive.”
    “If you ask me, he isn't. He prefers to do his own thing, like they used to say. My mother, who worked in this house for thirty years, said she never once saw him take any joy in the winning.”
    “He certainly did a lot of it. Winning, I mean.”
    “That's a fact.”
    “I wonder why he doesn't keep some of these trophies in his office in Seattle?”
    “Why would he?” Dolores put down the last of the bowls full of grapefruit. “Everyone knows Caleb didn't win those awards for himself. He won them for his grandfather. Reckon he figured it was only fitting they be kept here in his grandfather's house.”
    “I think I'm starting to get the picture. Poor Caleb.”
    Dolores gave her a sharp, knowing look. “You can say that again. My mother swore there were times she wanted to just weep when Caleb came home with a prize. He never bragged, she said, like boys do. Never talked about it. Never seemed excited. He'd just hand the trophy over to his grandfather and go on to the next goal Mr. Ventress set for him.”
    “What did his grandfather say when Caleb handed over his awards?” Serenity asked softly.
    “When Caleb won, Mr. Ventress made it real clear that the boy was only doing what was expected of him. But lord help the poor lad the few times he didn't take first place.” Dolores shook her head. “My mother said she took it upon herself to tell Mr. Ventress that she thought he was riding the boy too hard, but he always told her to mind her own business. Said he wasn't going to make the same mistakes he'd made last time.”
    Serenity whirled around. “Last time?”
    “Expect he meant the mistakes he figured he'd made with his son Gordon,” Dolores said quietly. “Sometimes it's harder to forgive yourself than it is someone else. And God knows Ventresses can be as stubborn as mules.”
    “What mistakes?”
    Dolores hesitated. “You'll have to ask Caleb about that. I've already said too much as it is. If you do decide to ask questions, do me a favor.”
    “What's that?”
    “Don't let on I put them in your head.”

9

    W HAT DO YOU THINK OF A RIADNE'S MARMALADE , M R . Ventress?” Serenity asked.
    Roland looked at her from the far end of the painfully quiet table. Unlike yesterday's formal celebration, today's gathering was a small one. Only Caleb's aunt, Phyllis, and his uncle, Franklin, had been invited to breakfast this morning. They had done their best to keep the conversation going, but the unrelenting silence between Caleb and his grandfather effectively stifled everyone's best