For All of Her Life by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

while, I take it?” she asked.
    He hesitated. “They’ve known. Not that long, really.”
    Traitors! The little darlings—ummm! the little witches!— lived with her most of the time.
    Something sobering seemed to settle over her and she shook her head, still determined that there was far more to this than Jordan intended to admit. “Why a reunion? It isn’t going to be the same. It can never be. Not with Keith dead.”
    He hesitated. Just a moment too long. Time might have passed, but she did still know Jordan Treveryan. Maybe better than anyone else. He was going to lie to her.
    “I think we can create some excitement and make really big money for some really good charities.”
    “There’s more to it than that.”
    He shrugged. “Music is in big at the moment.”
    “Music will always be ‘in.’”
    “Musicians who have kept their popularity are in. I’ve never suggested the group actually get back together; I wouldn’t want that. But I’ve invited everyone who was involved to Star Island, I intend to put on a show and do good deeds with the proceeds. People are going to make movies whether I—or we—approve of them or not, and I do happen to like those making this picture. They approached me immediately; they were honest and direct. A lot of time has passed. Maybe it’s the right time for all the tempest and trauma of Blue Heron to be put to rest.”
    Strange way to put it, Kathy thought. Though she was still certain he was keeping something back, she believed he was being sincere—to a point.
    “Dinner?” he said.
    She nodded. “But it’s getting pretty late. The girls should be home soon. I think I’ll leave them a note.”
    “Are you going to tell them where you are?”
    “Are you planning on seeing them?”
    “Of course, I’d like to.”
    “Want to wait for them so we can all have dinner?” she asked.
    She didn’t know why, but she was glad when he shook his head. “No. Ten years is a long time. We should talk through some things first, before adding them to the brew, don’t you think?”
    “Your call,” she said lightly, and preceded him out the door.
    Jordan had never cared for many of the trappings that came with success. He liked to walk, on big city streets and country roads; liked to enjoy sunsets and study old buildings, but tonight, he had come to her home in a black stretch limo. It had been parked just down the street. The limo wouldn’t particularly be noticed by the people living in her building—it was inhabited by Wall Street brokers, well-known actors and actresses, successful models, oil execs, and even an Arabian prince—a nice enough fellow except that Kathy was certain he was keeping a harem in his penthouse apartments. Though she wasn’t exactly a bra-burning feminist, she couldn’t help but feel indignant about the situation, no matter what the man’s background. This was the U.S.A. She had risen in her chosen field, having become Executive Senior Editor and Associate Publisher, but in publishing, titles were often much weightier than paychecks. She’d only managed to get the apartment because Jordan had always been a smart businessman. Though she’d refused to take a settlement after their marriage, each band member still received royalties from the sales of records, albums, tapes, and compact discs. She’d bought the place from an associate who’d married a rich but weary stockbroker who wanted to leave the city behind and move to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, to raise sheep. The pair, happy as larks, were doing that now, and Kathy received Christmas cards each year showing the two of them smiling—along with their sheep. In the background was always beautiful white snow, and she promised herself every year that she would go out and see her old friend, her old friend’s husband—and their sheep. She hadn’t managed to do it yet.
    Which left her with another dilemma. She probably could get time off, she was in a senior enough position to throw a good pitch