"I'm dull, too," she assured him, but he was not to be derailed from his chosen topic. "You're not wearing a wedding ring, which means you're not married, which means you must occupy your time in some other way. Do you have a career?"
"I'm an interior designer," Sloan replied, and quickly added, "but that's not a very interesting topic. Let's talk about something that interests you, too."
"I'm quite interested in beautiful young women who, for some reason, do not want to talk about themselves," he said with a sudden perspicuity that surprised and alarmed Sloan after his seemingly lighthearted, innocuous banter. "However," he reassured her, "I won't pry into your secrets. Let's see—we need a mutually interesting topic. I don't suppose you're fascinated with corporate mergers, high finance, world politics—that sort of thing?"
Sloan nodded eagerly. "I heard some interesting theories on the future of the world market at dinner last night."
He looked staggered, gratified, and impressed. "A beautiful woman with a soft heart, a sense of humor, and a fine mind. No wonder you aren't married—I'll bet you frighten young men your own age to death." He flashed her an engaging smile that made Sloan wonder if he was quite as harmless as he'd said; then he slapped his knee and announced, "Let's talk about the Russian economy. I love to hear myself talk on that subject. I never fail to amuse myself with my own wisdom and insight…"
Sloan laughed, helplessly charmed by his humor. And then she listened. And was impressed.
When she left, Douglas Maitland stood at the edge of the lawn, watching her; then he strolled back to the house and sauntered into the kitchen. "Good morning," he told his son and daughter as he helped himself to a cup of coffee. "You should have watched the sun come up today. It was beautiful."
His son was sitting at the kitchen table, reading The Wall Street Journal. His daughter was removing a bagel from the toaster. They both looked up in surprise at his buoyant tone. "You're in remarkably good spirits this morning," Noah observed.
"I've had a remarkable morning."
"Doing what?" his daughter, Courtney, challenged skeptically. "In the first place, you haven't gone anywhere. In the second place, there's nowhere to go. Palm Beach is the pits. I can't believe you actually expect me to live here permanently when I could stay in California and board at school."
"I must be a masochist," Douglas told her cheerfully. "However, to answer your original question, my morning was made remarkable by the presence of a fascinating young woman who noticed that my shoulder was causing me pain, and who offered assistance and then conversation."
Courtney's eyes narrowed. "How young a woman?"
"Under thirty, I'd guess."
"Oh, great! The last two times you met 'a fascinating young woman' who was 'under thirty,' you married her."
"Don't be sarcastic, Courtney. One of those women was your mother."
"The second one was too young to have children," she lied.
Douglas ignored her and described Sloan to his son. "She mistook me for a gardener—an understandable mistake, considering that I was digging in the dirt. We had a delightful discussion. You'll never guess who she is—"
"Let me try," Courtney interrupted. "While you talked to her, was she sitting on a tuffet, eating curds and whey?"
Both men ignored her. "Who is she?" Noah asked.
"If you had dinner with Carter last night, you probably met her. I would have asked her about that, but I rather hated to admit I had a son your age. My vanity had already taken a blow by being mistaken for the gardener. Her name is Sloan."
Noah gave a bark of laughter. "You have to be joking! What on earth did you find to talk to her about?"
"Many things. We discussed world affairs, the economy—"
"You must have done all the talking," his son said sarcastically. "She couldn't carry an intelligent conversation in a basket."
"She did it very well this morning. She mentioned she'd heard a similar discussion last night. When she told me what she'd heard, it sounded like it came from you."
"I'm amazed she was able to repeat it, but believe me, she didn't understand it."
"You're making her sound like a parrot! Really, Noah, I think I qualify as a reasonably good judge, and I can guarantee that she's not only beautiful, she is also very smart. And she's witty, too."
"Are we both talking about Carter Reynolds's daughter?"
It was Douglas's turn to look shocked. "His what?"
"Carter has two daughters. Paris is older by a year."
"I've known Carter for decades and he's never mentioned having another daughter."
"He told me last night that the girls were divided in the divorce when they were babies and Sloan remained with her mother. After his heart attack, Carter decided to try to heal the family breach, so he invited her to come for a visit. Until yesterday, the two branches of the family have had no contact."
"Why not?"
Noah pushed his newspaper aside and stood up. "I have no idea. Carter didn't volunteer any more information, and I didn't feel it was appropriate to ask."
"I sensed she had a secret!" Douglas said, smiling at his perception. "I fooled her by letting her think I was a gardener, so she tricked me by keeping her own identity a secret. She must have known I'd find out who she is. Tit for tat. She's amazing! I told you you'd underestimated her."
"Maybe," Noah replied, unconvinced but definitely curious.
Courtney finished spreading cream cheese on her bagel and brushed past Noah on her way to the table. "I can see how all this is going to turn out," she predicted. "My brother is going to marry Paris, my father is going to marry her sister, and I'm going to go on the Sally Jessy Raphael show and talk about incestuous stepfamilies. It will be very intense."
"I've told you before that I am not going to marry Paris," Noah snapped.
"Well, you can't marry Sloan, because our father plans to do that. And you can't marry her after he does, because that's old stuff and it won't get me on Sally's show. They've already done 'my sister-in-law used to be my stepmother' programs."
"Knock it off!"
Courtney waited until Noah was out of earshot; then she looked at her father, who was opening Noah's newspaper. "Why do you let him talk to me like that?"
Douglas ignored her attempt to provoke a quarrel and turned to the editorial page.