Free House of Strangers (Harlequin Super Romance) by Carolyn McSparren Page A

Zebediah and have to start over with Aaron and Billy Bob, we’ll all be dead and gone.”
    Paul thought about his own middle name—Antoine. Did that perhaps signify the start of a new dynasty?
    “Uncle Conrad was sweet as pie so long as he got exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. The only person he could never bully was my aunt Maribelle. Nobody could bully her.”
    Paul wanted to tell Ann about the news photo he’d seen, but couldn’t think of a safe way to introduce the subject.
    “Gram says he and Aunt Maribelle had the fanciest wedding since the depression began. Twelve bridesmaids and people arriving from as far away as St. Louis. Then they went to Hawaii for their honeymoon. Back in those days you had to take a ship from San Francisco. So romantic. Gram says by the time they got back they were so bored with each other she thought they’d get a divorce.”
    “But they didn’t.”
    “Nope. Aunt Maribelle was pregnant with the next Delaney, and once they both got back to doing some real work, they got along fine. Too much togetherness will kill any relationship.” She glanced away quickly.
    Paul had an idea she wasn’t talking about her great-aunt and uncle. Ann’s last name was Corrigan—another reason he hadn’t twigged to her relationship to Buddy.There was apparently no husband in the picture, so she must either be divorced or widowed. She wore no wedding ring—no jewelry of any kind. Of course that could be because the chemicals she worked with would damage her jewelry.
    “I assume Conrad ran the farms.”
    “By that time it was agribusiness—another word for a hell of a lot of land, crops and money.”
    “What kind of work did your aunt Maribelle do?”
    “She made a career out of driving everybody nuts.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Aunt Maribelle not only had an opinion about everything, she expected that opinion to take precedence over anybody else’s. One time my mother bought a sofa—a big expenditure on a policeman’s salary. Aunt Maribelle took one look at it and said the color was only appropriate if we expected the dog to throw up on it nightly. I thought Gram would kill her.”
    She stood and began picking up the dishes. He rose to help, but she pushed him down again. “Nope. It’s a one-person kitchen with a dishwasher. Want some decaf?”
    “No, thanks.” He really should get up, thank her for dinner and leave. “Do the Delaneys always give the oldest son the first name of Paul?”
    “Actually, since the first Paul, the one that built the house, there’s only been one son per generation, and he’s always Paul the-next-letter-of-the-alphabet.” She placed the dishes into the dishwasher, then leaned on the counter. “Suppose they’d called them the way the English did? Adam the Inheritor, Barrett the Forecloser, Conrad the Roarer…”
    “What would my…Trey’s father be known as?”
    She thought a moment. “David the Artist? David the Drunk? Not quite right. I think he’d be David the Sad.”
    Paul caught his breath. So maybe his father hadn’t quite gotten away with what he’d done. Maybe he had had a conscience. If so, it apparently hadn’t stung him hard enough to make him confess.
    Ann began to knead her left shoulder. Despite his resolution, he’d taken advantage of her. She had worked long and hard today even if he hadn’t. He didn’t want to leave the comfort of this room, the pleasure of her company. When he wasn’t forcing himself to probe for facts, he found he was enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t since long before the accident.
    In the end, she solved his problem. “Go home,” she said, but with a smile. “You’re tired, I’m tired, and we both need to get to bed.”
    “You’re right,” he said, and stood. She followed him to the back door and flicked a switch that turned on a light above the outside landing. “Wait a minute. You’ll need a flashlight or you’ll break your neck on the garbage cans.”
    He stood with one hand