Product Details

• Read a Sample Chapter

Read a Sample Chapter

My Name Is Nell

Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.

Chapter One

When he'd made his final tour of the elaborate, expensive, now-empty house in the upscale Silicon Valley community where he, Brooke and their daughter Nicole had made their home, he'd been dry-eyed, detached. After locking the front door for the last time, he'd paused, studying the blinding white-stucco exterior, waiting for any emotion that would make him feel alive. Nothing. Only the familiar numbness.

Now, driving past the sleek four-story headquarters of L&S TechWare, nestled among the lushest landscaping an unlimited budget could provide, he still felt nothing.

Eight months ago he couldn't have imagined picking up like this and walking out. With only ingenious ideas, damn hard work and luck, he and his friend Carl Sutton had built a successful software company, now traded on the Nasdaq. He'd married a beautiful blue-eyed California blonde, purchased the gadget-laden home and cars, hired a live-in housekeeper and yard man and been accepted for membership in clubs so prestigious you didn't inquire about initiation fees, you simply wrote the check - a large one. In short, he had "arrived."

The best things, though, money couldn't buy. Brooke had been far more than a trophy wife. She was his other half, full of fun where he was serious, understanding of his long hours and driven work ethic. When he'd thought life couldn't get any better, Nicole had come along and grown into a loving, giggly, remarkably unspoiled preteen who'd won his heart in a way no one else ever had.

Brady gave L&S TechWare one last glance in the rearview mirror, then headed for the Interstate. It didn't matter where he was going. He should care, but he didn't. The important thing was that he was going.

Carl had accused him of running away. Hell, maybe he was. As he saw it, though, he had two choices. Stay and slowly, steadily, implode, or get out of Dodge and look for any spark left of the man named Brady Logan.

Here all that remained were sights, sounds, smells and memories - oh, God, the memories - reminding him that in one horrible instant, everything he loved had been wiped from the face of the earth.

Vaporized by one irresponsible drunken son of a bitch, who just happened to be driving a loaded gasoline tanker.

Late July, seven weeks later Arkansas

"I don't see why I have to go." Abby slouched in her seat in the airport lounge, kicking at her carry-on bag. Two hanks of straight blond hair hid her features, but Nell Porter could well imagine the surly put-upon look on her thirteen-year-old daughter's face.

"You'll have a good time at your father's," Nell suggested without the faintest trace of conviction in her voice.

"Yeah, sure. Like there's so much to do in stupid Texas."

Nell sighed. This was yet another reprise of the conversation they had once a month when she took Abby to Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport to fly to Dallas for her court-ordered visit with Rick. Abby had no way of knowing how Nell dreaded the gnawing in her stomach every time she had to consign her daughter's care to the airlines - and then to Rick and Clarice, his second wife. In fact, she didn't know which was worse, thinking of her daughter all alone thousands of feet above the ground in these troubled times or picturing her in the manipulative hands of the far-from-maternal Clarice, aka The Other Woman. Even six years later and after professional counseling, bitterness blindsided her, along with those all-too-familiar feelings of unworthiness and betrayal. She stared at her fingers, locked in a death grip, then quite consciously separated her hands and drew a deep breath. That was all behind her. By some miracle, and with the help of family and friends, she'd survived. If only she didn't have to send Abby into the situation ...

"Why do you make me go?" Abby's voice was laced with belligerence.

"Honey, we've been over all this. It's not a choice either of us has."

"I hate going. I don't have any friends there."

"What about your dad? He'd be disappointed not to see you."

"Maybe." Looking up finally, Abby tucked a strand of hair behind one bestudded ear. "But he doesn't have a clue what to do with me when I get there. I mean, how many times do I want to go to Six Flags? Besides, I'm missing Tonya's birthday party."

Abby's remarks evoked guilt Nell knew was irrational. As if she could have done any more to influence the custody decision. Or changed the fact Rick was entitled to spend time with their child. Did Abby ever tell her father how she felt about the visits? No. Whenever she was with him, she did a good imitation of the dutiful daughter. Inevitably when she came home, Nell faced the task of picking up the pieces, putting them back together as best she could and then sending Abby on her way the next time. Like now. Abby needed a punching bag, and Nell was handy.

Somehow that insight didn't alleviate the hurt her daughter's petulance generated.

The mechanical drone of a commuter plane drawing up to the gate was accompanied by the disassociated voice of the loudspeaker announcing the arrival of the aircraft Abby would be taking to Dallas. "You need to go through security now," Nell said, rising to her feet.

"I guess." Abby stood, shouldered her bag and trailed Nell all the way to the short line of passengers waiting at the checkpoint.

Nell watched Abby's expression settle into affected pseudo-sophistication, the bored look of the veteran traveler. Yet when she turned and gave Nell a perfunctory hug, her clear gray eyes held not resentment, but misgiving. "Bye, Mom. See ya Sunday night."

"I'll be here," Nell said. She watched Abby pass through the metal detector and pluck her bag from the conveyer belt, then waited to catch a final glimpse of her daughter's rail-thin body as she descended the escalator and vanished from sight.

The empty feeling was always the same. It was enough to drive a person to drink.

But that was out of the question.

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from My Name Is Nell by Laura Abbot Copyright ©2003 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---