Aspen Gold by Janet Dailey Page B

yellow track of light across the porch before racing off to grab the ringing phone.
    Bannon mounted the steps ahead of his father and entered the house. Out of habit he took off his hat and hung it on a wall peg,
    automatically running fingers through his dark hair to comb away its flatness. The lodgelike living room sprawled before him, rustic and solid, a timbered stairway rising to a railed balcony circling three walls off which four doors opened.
    Laura had the phone to her ear and both elbows on the oak table. Unbuckling his spurs, Bannon listened while Laura chattered away to the caller, recounting the day's adventures and expounding on the stampede, turning it into a moment fraught with danger.
    "He's here." Laura swiveled on one elbow to look at him, then added in response to something the caller said, "Sure." Straightening, she held out the phone to him. "It's Aunt Sondra. She wants to talk to you."
    Bannon hooked his spurs on a peg next to his hat, then walked over to take the phone from his daughter. "You'd better go clean up and get your things together," he told his daughter, cupping a hand over the receiver's mouthpiece. "And don't forget to pack your toothbrush."
    "I won't." She headed for the stairway.
    "And don't be all night in the shower," Old Tom called after her, then glanced at Bannon.
    "I'm gonna get me a beer. Do you want one?"
    Refusing with a shake of his head, he uncovered the mouthpiece. "Hello, Sondra. What's the problem?"
    "I'm still at the office." When she heard the rich timbre of his voice, tinged with a faint drawl, Sondra Hudson turned toward the framed photograph on her desk, her lips softening, losing much of their usual cool and sober curve. "I called to let you know I'm running late, but from what Laura just said, you will be, too."
    "Not too late, I hope," Bannon said.
    "Laura is spending the night at the St.
    Clairs'. We'll drop her off first, then come by the house to pick you up."
    We. That obviously meant his father was coming along. What with one thing and another, it had been more than a week since she and Bannon had been alone--to talk, to touch, to love. She had hoped that tonight, after the dinner, they could--but that wasn't to be. Not with his father along. She contained her annoyance.
    "Sounds perfect," she lied. "I have one or two things to finish up here, then I'm going directly to the house. With luck, I'll be ready when you arrive."
    "In roughly two hours I should hope so,"
    he remarked dryly.
    Sondra smiled. "It always takes a woman longer to dress than a man. Haven't you learned that by now, Bannon?"
    "I guess I've forgotten." His voice had a smile in it.
    "That comes from not having a woman in the house,"
    she said, then instantly regretted the remark that, by inference, raised the spectre of her late sister. She hurried on without giving Bannon a chance to speak. "I'd better let you go or I'll be even later."
    After she hung up, Sondra reached for the photo, an enlargement of a snapshot taken almost ten years ago. It showed a winter scene in the Aspen mall, a trademark street lamp and artful snowbanks forming a backdrop for the smiling threesome in the center of the shot.
    Bannon stood in the middle, his features softer, smoother, younger, a cowboy hat raked to the back of his head. Sondra was on his left, her head tipped to rest on the point of his shoulder while she smiled at the camera with a self-contained poise. The paleness of her platinum dyed hair made her as fair as the girl on his right was dark.
    Her younger sister, Diana--with her ebony eyes and long black hair; spoiled, tempestuous Diana, thoughtless and selfish. She hadn't cared that Sondra had met Bannon first.
    Diana had always been like that--just like their father, never caring about anybody but himself. He'd only cared about having a good time and living well, even if it was off somebody else.
    The only thing Sondra had ever learned from her father was how to use charm and wiles on people. It had