She had been glad to escape to the quiet and comfort of her bedroom. The room hadn't been changed at all in the time she had lived away from Chanson du Terre. Like the rest of the house, it seemed to possess a stubborn agelessness that defied change. The walls were papered in a delicate vine and flower pattern over a background of rich ivory. The rug that covered the floor had been trod upon by generations of Sheridan feet. The cherry bed and its hand-tied net canopy had offered rest to the weary a century before. Serena found the idea comforting. The sense of constancy appealed to her, especially now, when she was feeling tired and uncertain about so many things. She could at least look around her room in the soft light of the bedside lamp and feel welcomed.
Belting her white silk robe around her, she went to stand in the open doorway leading onto the gallery, leaning against the frame as if she hadn't the strength left to support herself. The night beyond was dark and starless, the air heavy with the promise of rain and the scents of wisteria and honeysuckle. How many other Sheridan women had stood in this exact spot and looked out into the night, pondering their futures? How many would do so in years to come? None, if Len Burke got his way. And if Burke didn't get his way…?
A soft knock on the door roused Serena from her tormented musings. She turned as Shelby stuck her head into the room.
«May I come in?»
A shrug was the only answer Serena could muster. She was exhausted. The prospect of yet another conversational wrestling match with her sister was not inviting.
Shelby came in and closed the door behind her, leaning back against it, an uncertain look in her dark eyes. She had shed her pumps and let her hair down, making her look young and sweet in her feminine dress. She still wore an array of expensive rings on her dainty hands and demonstrated her hesitancy by twisting her topaz around her finger.
«I'm only trying to be practical, Serena,» she said with a suddenness that made it seem as if she had launched into the middle of the conversation instead of the beginning. «I should think you, of all people, would appreciate that. You've always been practical.»
«Practicality isn't the issue,» Serena said, coming away from the gallery door, sliding her hands into the deep pockets of her robe.
«Well, it should be. For heavens sake, Serena, think about it!» Shelby insisted. She moved around the room with short, brisk strides, compulsively straightening things that didn't need straightening. «The place will have to be sold eventually. Here we have a buyer ready to hand us money on a platter, and I can tell you as a real estate professional, they don't come along every day. There's nothing but good in this for everyone, and Gifford is standing in the way just to be stubborn!»
«He's worked this land all his life,» Serena pointed out calmly, playing the devil's advocate out of habit and necessity. «He doesn't want to see it all wiped away.»
Shelby stopped her fussing and shot her sister a narrow sideways look, her mood flashing from businesslike to petulant to shrewd. «He's manipulating you.»
Serena didn't argue the point; it was true. She was too caught up watching her sister's chameleon qualities, at once fascinated and horrified by the rapid changes. They pointed toward problems Serena found herself wanting to deny.
«He's just that way,» Shelby went on, absently rearranging things on the dresser to suit her own tastes. «He's in his glory now, holding all of us hostage. He's a stubborn old man.»
«Would you give up your children for the sake of someone else's livelihood?» Serena asked.
Shelby turned toward her, offended and incredulous. «Give up my children? Don't be ridiculous! Of course not, but it's hardly the same thing.»
«It is to Giff. This land is as much a part of him as we are. Why should he be expected to give it up?»
Shelby's face flushed and she stamped her foot on the rug. Her hands balled into fists at her side. «Because it's what everyone else wants! Because it's going to happen anyway. For pity's sake, why doesn't he just give in?»
«Because he's Gifford.»
«Well, something has to be done, Serena,» she announced vehemently as she resumed pacing. «He's just being unreasonable and it's hurting us all. I told you I thought he was going senile and I believe it. And I'm not the only one who thinks so.»
Serena thought back to Burke's threats of a competency hearing and frowned at her twin. She refrained from pointing out that a man who had the ability to manipulate so many people so neatly couldn't possibly be senile. Instead, she simply said, «I will not see Gifford declared incompetent, Shelby. Don't even think about suggesting it.»
«It would serve him right,» Shelby said sourly, her lower lip jutting forward in a pout.
Serena was appalled by the suggestion and the attitude that accompanied it. She may not have been especially close to or fond of her sister, but still she didn't want to believe her own flesh and blood, her own twin, capable of such callous selfishness. She stared at Shelby now, disgust and disbelief stark on her face. «I can't believe your greed would push you to something so ugly.»
Shelby's eyes flashed wildly. Serena thought she could almost hear her sister's control crack. «Greed? Greed!» Shelby shouted, stepping toward Serena. Her lovely ivory complexion turned a mottled red. Every muscle in her body seemed to go rigid. «How dare you accuse me of greed! You're the greedy one! You and Gifford. Greedy and selfish! I want only what's best for everybody!»
Right, Serena thought. Businesswoman of the Year. Mason in the legislature. A healthy bank account and the unending gratitude of those who would profit from the deal. She didn't say any of those things, however. She stood silent, staring at her sister, a sick churning in her stomach.
Shelby paced back and forth along the length of the bed, huffing and puffing like a toy train. «Isn't this just like you?» she said bitterly. «You waltz in from Charleston and take Gifford's side just to please him and then you'll waltz back out and not give a damn that you've ruined everything for everyone else. You won't have to deal with it. You don't live here. You don't care. The rest of us have responsibilities here.»
«You don't seem to feel any responsibility toward Gifford or your family home or the environment,» Serena pointed out, knowing she would have been better off saying nothing. But she couldn't seem to find the cool restraint she used when confronted by an overwrought patient. She couldn't maintain objectivity with her own family, and the only way she could distance herself from them was in the physical sense. The minute she came back here she felt sucked into an emotional maelstrom, a thick familial quicksand that pulled her down from her safe perch above it all. It was a humbling experience and an exhausting one. She gave in to it now as her temper rose and her control slipped away.
«You know what the petrochemical industry has done down here already,» she argued. «Fouling land and water-«
«Feeding people, providing jobs, keeping towns alive-«
«-elevating the cancer rate, destroying animal habitat-«
«Oh, for the love of Mike!» Shelby threw her hands up in exasperation. «You sound like those lunatics up in Oregon, or wherever they are, harping on the loggers for scaring off a bunch of owls that don't have sense enough to go live someplace else. And all for a place you hate to begin with!»
Serena pulled herself back from the ragged edge of anger and sighed, crossing her arms defensively. «Just because it's not a place I like to be doesn't mean I want it wiped off the face of the earth. There are people who still make their living out there, you know.»
Shelby sniffed indignantly. «Poachers and white trash. If you ask me, Tristar would be doing us all a favor getting rid of them.»