Page 40 of The Bride Wore White

But now Gilbert was gone and Clara was dealing with the destruction of her vision for the future of her precious empire. In addition, she had been humiliated by the circumstances of the murder. She was taking out her rage on everyone around her, including Ella—the wife of her second-best son.

“Everyone knows that Gilbert was Clara’s favorite,” Rollins said. “She needs time to get past the shock. She had convinced herself he was the future of the Dover bloodline.”

“I know.” Ella reached across the seat and lightly touched his hand. Her eyes and her voice warmed with sympathy and understanding. “I realize she takes that psychic nonsense very seriously. Gilbert’s death has crushed her ridiculous dreams of having grandchildren she was sure would inherit her so-called paranormal talent.”

Rollins grimaced. “She’s convinced she gets her keen sense of business from messages she receives in her dreams. What I don’tunderstand is why she thought Gil had inherited her talent. He never exhibited any sign of interest in Dover Industries. I’m the one who has done the day-to-day work of managing the company for the past few years. I’m the one who knows how to guide it into the next decade. War is coming, and thanks to me, Dover is well positioned to take advantage of the government contracts that will be going out to big industrial firms. But all my mother could see was Gilbert at the helm.”

“He was her firstborn,” Ella said gently. “She was obsessed with him because she had invested so much of herself in him.”

“While she packed me off to boarding school as soon as possible.”

“I understand.” Ella patted his hand again. “But she will learn to see you in a different light now. Do you have any idea why she asked us to pay a call this afternoon?”

“Mother does not make requests,” he said. “We were summoned. When she telephoned, she said only that she had family business to discuss.”

Ella brightened. “Maybe she has finally come to her senses and realized that you are now the rightful heir of Dover Industries. Whatever else you can say about Clara, she is not a stupid woman. She knows she can no longer pretend Gilbert is destined to be her heir.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“She doesn’t have any choice, Rollins. Gilbert is gone. She has to face reality. It’s time for her to step down and let you take control of the company.”

Rollins groaned. “You still have a lot to learn about my mother.”

“What else can she do?”

“I prefer not to ask that question.” He managed a wry smile. “I don’t want to know the answer.”

Ella was quiet for a moment.

“Do you think your mother will ever really accept me?” she asked finally.

It was his turn to offer reassurance and support. He gripped her hand and gently squeezed her fingers. “Yes, of course she will. As you just pointed out, she no longer has much choice. It is time for her to face reality.”

Clara had become the power behind the throne of Dover Industries approximately twenty-four hours after she married Copeland Dover. He had never had any interest in the business and had been content to let her run the company while he played the man-about-town and indulged his notorious sexual tastes in the few brothels that would accept him as a client.

It wasn’t long before everyone in the San Francisco business community understood that Clara was the one running the fast-growing empire. When Copeland had dropped dead five years into the marriage, leaving a widow and two small sons, there had not been so much as a ripple of anxiety in the financial world. Everyone who mattered had understood that Clara was no longer standing behind the throne—she was sitting on it, scepter in her gloved fist.

Rollins had spent a lifetime observing Clara. He had realized early on that the key to her success was a remarkably keen intuition for sizing up and exploiting the strengths and weaknesses of Dover’s competitors and customers alike. During the crash and the long Depression that had followed, Dover had not only remained afloat while other firms drowned; it had flourished.

The limo came to a halt at the front steps of the big house. The chauffeur opened the door. Ella stepped out of the vehicle with her customary grace. Rollins followed, took her arm, and went up the steps with her.

The housekeeper greeted them with an appropriately somber air. Maud Hollister had served in the household since Rollins andGilbert were boys. She had watched them grow up. There had never been a Mr.Hollister, but at some point everyone had begun referring to her as Mrs.Hollister.

As a child Rollins had thought her quite pretty and had wondered why she always looked so grim and unhappy. She was in her mid-forties now, and whatever beauty she had once possessed had long ago disappeared, leaving behind the husk of an embittered woman.

Maud’s most impressive attribute was her unquestioned devotion to Clara. As far as Rollins knew, he was the only one who had ever figured out why she had remained while so many others had come and gone.

Maud was still on the staff for a very simple reason—she had a son who had been locked up in a private asylum when he was in his early teens. She was blackmailing Clara and had been for years.

Rollins had discovered the truth when he had found Clara’s private ledger years earlier. The generous checks routinely made out to Maud were for amounts significantly greater than her salary. Intrigued, he had done a little sleuthing and discovered that Maud, in turn, was writing checks to an expensive psychiatric hospital where her son was doomed to live out his days. Before that, she had used the money to pay for an expensive East Coast boarding school. As Clara was not known for her charitable inclinations, the expenditures had raised interesting questions.

He had established a habit of regularly perusing Clara’s private ledger, which she kept in her dressing table drawer. There were other entries of interest. Over the years, several checks had been made out to employees who had quit their posts in the household due to mysterious accidents. There were also a number of payments to various charities that claimed their mission was to rescue prostitutes from the streets. Rollins knew the household accidents hadbeen caused by his brother, who had delighted in terrorizing the staff. As for the charities, they were actually brothel managers demanding compensation for the damage Gil had done to the unfortunate women who had been forced to take him as a client.

But the payments to Maud were the only ones that had aroused his curiosity. There was only one reason why Clara would have made the payments for so many years, and it wasn’t because she felt sorry for Maud’s institutionalized son.

So yes, Maud’s loyalty to the family was unquestioned, and he knew precisely why she had remained while so many others had left.

“Mrs.Dover and Dr.Flood are in the blue room,” Maud said.

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