Legacy of Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page B

now.” And he had roared with laughter at the idea of exactly where he was now, so high and mighty and richer than the men next to him, with a wife as snobbish as theirs and a daughter on whom he could lavish his love and his money.
    Yet, oddly, whenever she asked, “But who are our Irish ancestors, Daddy? Why don’t we have any aunts and uncles?” he always closed up tight as a clam and told her not to be bothering her head about that, and that maybe he’d tell her when she was older. And then he would hurry her off to tea at some smart hotel.
    Shannon grew up sheltered from the “real world” by their money and smart private schools. Her summers were spent in the company of boring grown-ups on Mediterranean yachts and her winter vacations were spent being bored with more grown-ups at villas in Barbados. The best time of the year was summer camp with the other kids, where for a few weeks they all ran wild and talked about boys.
    As the years passed, her teeth were straightened, herknees unknobbled themselves, her limbs grew long and sleek and her body supple, but she kept her pony-battered nose, ignoring Buffy’s instructions to have it fixed. She grew curves in the right places and was properly slender where it counted. But her hair was still a flaming red and her freckles were still the bane of her life, and to her embarrassment, her eyes were truly the windows on her soul, gray as a deep lake and reflecting every passing emotion. She knew it was impossible for her to keep her feelings to herself; they were right up there in her eyes for everyone to see.
    She had been fourteen when she first saw her father with his mistress. She had sneaked out of her Boston school with two other girls and they had gone shopping and for tea at the Ritz-Carlton. He was with a pretty, youngish woman. She had dark hair and pale skin and he was holding her hand under the table. Shannon had felt the blush sting her cheeks with heat. They were unaware of her, wrapped up in each other. As she watched, her father had run his finger gently across the curve of the girl’s cheek. He touched her full lips and she kissed his hand, clutching it for a brief moment. Shannon had turned and fled, followed by her friends. “It’s okay,” they told her comfortingly, “all men do that!”
    Her father later realized something was wrong when she couldn’t look him in the eye, and finally she told him what she had seen. He paced angrily back and forth on the Aubusson rug in the library of the Fifth Avenue penthouse.
    He looked pleadingly at her. “I was going to say you are too young to understand these things. But obviously you are not. You understood what you saw.” He shrugged. “I won’t ask your forgiveness, because you are my daughter, not my wife. And I can’t tell you it’s all right, because it’s not. All I can do is ask you to try to forget it, and hope that someday, when you are older and know better, you will forgive me.
And remember this, daughter. Never trust a man.”
    At her party later, on the dance floor once again withWil, Shannon saw her father leave his lonely place on the edge of the crowd. His eyes met hers, and the weary frown etched between his brows disappeared as he made his way toward her through the laughing crowds.
    “A dance for your old dad?” he asked. His eyes were full of love as she stepped into his arms, slight and delicate as a breeze.
    “Thank you, Daddy, for a wonderful party,” Shannon murmured, her head against his chest.
    He sighed ruefully. “I always wanted the best for you, right from the day you were born.” He hesitated, then said sadly, “I know I wasn’t around enough, when you were growing up.” He shrugged his big shoulders helplessly. “I missed so much. I was always too busy, pursuing a dream. But I needed to do it, Shannon. At first to make something out of our existence after your mother’s death, and then for the hell of it. I enjoyed my work, I got a kick out of making