“Grapevine!” the instructor yelled out over the pounding music. “And kick…two, three, four, and grapevine, two…three…four…”
Mattie kicked vigorously, aware that she had a great deal of stress to work off. The tension was building daily. The sense of pressure had been mounting. She could feel it, a palpable field of energy pressing on her as surely as claustrophobia.
She knew that sooner or later she was going to have to make a decision. Emery and Ariel and Aunt Charlotte were all probably right about Hugh. He wasn't planning to stay in Seattle permanently. He was playing a waiting game, and he was not a patient man.
One of these days he would come home from work and announce that he had given her enough time to get used to the idea of trusting him. He would tell her he was leaving for St. Gabriel on the six o'clock plane the next morning.
And she would have to make her decision.
The walls were definitely closing in on her.
“And up and out and up and out and up…”
She was not ready to take the risk a second time. She would not be a stand-in for Ariel.
“Reach and pull. Reach and pull. Move it, people. Reach and pull…”
Hugh had claimed he would stay here in Seattle as long as necessary. But Mattie knew better. She could feel him getting restless. The last three mornings she had awakened to find him already awake beside her, gazing out at the dawn. She had known instinctively that he was thinking about his island and Abbott Charters and his dream home.
“Slide and skip, two…three…four. Slide and skip, two…three…four…”
Aunt Charlotte was right. Hugh was not meant to live in the city. He had started to build a dream for himself out in the islands, and now, half-finished, it called to him. Mattie tried to tell herself that her dreams were right here in Seattle, but a part of her denied it.
“…And two, three, four, and slide, turn, kick…and two, three…”
A part of her knew that her dreams were forever linked to Hugh's.
So she would have to make a decision.
Mattie wondered how much time she had left.
The walls were definitely closing in.
Half an hour later, showered and changed back into the well-tailored pin-striped suit she had worn to the office that day, Mattie left the health club and started the five-block walk to her apartment. It was dark and a light rain was beginning to fall. Hugh was going to get wet on the way home tonight. He never remembered to take an umbrella with him to the office.
Mattie had just unfurled the umbrella she always carried with her in her briefcase when she heard the footsteps behind her.
Footsteps on a city street were hardly unusual, but there was something about the pace of these particular footsteps that sent a flicker of anxiety down her spine. A woman who lived alone in the city soon developed a certain degree of street savvy. There were footsteps and there were footsteps.
The sidewalk was uncrowded at this hour. The rain and the cold had driven most people indoors. The few people who were still out were hurrying toward the shelter of bus stops, restaurants, or parking garages. She listened for a change in the pace of the person walking behind her.
But the footsteps behind Mattie did not quicken or slow. They beat a steady tempo that matched her own brisk stride.
She was getting paranoid, Mattie told herself. There was no cause for alarm. If worse came to worse, she could always run out into the middle of the street and scream bloody murder.
Unless whoever was following her jumped her suddenly and dragged her into a dark alley.
She clung more tightly to her purse and briefcase and hugged the outer edge of the sidewalk. She remembered reading somewhere that it was safer to walk near the curb.
The sense of being followed was sending chills down her spine now. At the corner Mattie swung around abruptly and looked back in the direction she had just come.
Two men were on the sidewalk behind her. One had his keys out and was heading toward a car parked at the curb. The other was staring into a shop window. He was wearing a cap and had the collar of a khaki-green trenchcoat pulled up high around his neck. But Mattie caught a glimpse of his face and realized he was a young man, probably in his early twenties. He didn't look like a street thug; he looked more like a soldier, especially in that military-style trenchcoat.
She was getting paranoid. Maybe she'd lived a little too long in the city. Mattie crossed the street and hurried down the next block. Midway she whirled around and saw that the man who had been looking into the window was still behind her. An aura of menace hung in the air.
Mattie gave up trying to fight the anxiety. She was probably going to regret this, but there was only one appealing option available. She turned and stepped into the first warmly lit doorway she saw.
And found herself in a sleazy, smoke-filled tavern. Music blared from tinny loudspeakers. The smell of alcohol fumes, burning tobacco, and old cooking grease were thick in the air. A couple of men at the bar swiveled around on their stools and eyed her with lecherous interest.
Mattie ignored them as she clutched her purse more tightly than ever. A waitress paused and looked her up and down.
“Help you?” the woman asked without much real interest.
“I'd like to use the pay phone, please.”
“Back near the rest rooms.”
Mattie kept her gaze averted from the crowd at the bar as she walked the gauntlet of staring eyes toward the phone.
It seemed ridiculous to call a cab for a two-block ride. The driver would probably be furious at the cheap fare. She would try the apartment first.
Hugh answered the phone on the first ring. “Where the hell are you, Mattie? It sounds like a bar, for God's sake.”
“Smells like one, too.” She wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant odors emanating from the bathrooms. “I'm only two blocks away from the apartment, Hugh. Look, I hate to ask this, but could you come get me? There's someone outside on the sidewalk. I think he might have been following me.”
“Which bar?” Hugh's voice now had that familiar cold edge.
Mattie gave him the address.
“Stay put near the front door. Don't move until I get there. Understand?”
“I understand.” Mattie hung up and made the endless trip back past the crowd seated at the bar. She could handle anything this lot might try, she told herself. After all, she had survived a barroom brawl on St. Gabriel. The thought gave her confidence.
Nevertheless, when Hugh came through the front door five minutes later looking lethal, she didn't hesitate for an instant.
She went straight into his arms.
CHAPTER
Fifteen
“What the hell did you think you were doing walking home alone in the middle of the night?” Hugh raged as he stood towering over Mattie.
“It wasn't the middle of the night, Hugh. It was only seven o'clock.” Seated with her legs curled under her on the couch, Mattie sipped a reviving cup of herbal tea. “I knew I shouldn't have called you. I knew you'd only start yelling.”
“I've got a right to yell. You had no business out there at this hour.”
“I've never had trouble coming back from the after-work class before.”
“It only takes once. Damn it, a city is not a safe place for a woman alone.”
“I can tell you right now, you'll never get me to move out into the 'burbs. It's a jungle out there.”
“This isn't a joke, Mattie.” Hugh leaned over her menacingly and flattened his hands on the back of the couch on either side of where she was sitting. “City streets are dangerous and you can't deny it. You're the one who warned me to be careful on the way home tonight, remember?”
It was hard to argue that one. “Well, yes. But that's because you're not used to Seattle. You haven't lived here long enough to develop street smarts. You kind of have to get the hang of living downtown.”
“Is that right? And you've got the hang of it, I suppose?”
; “Oh, yes,” she said easily. “The sort of thing that happened tonight really isn't typical. I handled it, didn't I?”
“Hell. This is a really stupid argument. I'm right and you're wrong and that's all there is to it. You'd be a lot safer living out in the islands than you are here in Seattle. I can guarantee it.”
“May I remind you that I encountered more violence out in your neck of the woods than I have ever encountered in my whole life?”
Hugh ran his fingers through his hair. “That was an unusual situation.”
“So was tonight.”
“Damn it, Mattie…”
“The thing is,” Mattie said slowly, “I'm not used to having someone chew me out like this just because I had a little trouble on the way home.”
“Get used to it. And while you're at it, get used to not coming home alone at night, period,” Hugh advised forcefully.
“I'm not sure I like it.”
“Not sure you like what? Having me tell you that you can't come home alone at night? Let me tell you, you ain't seen nothin' yet, babe. There are going to be all kinds of rules after we get married.”
“I've been doing just fine without any of your rules for thirty-two years, Hugh. Damn. I should never have called you. It wasn't any big deal.”
He glared at her. “No big deal? You get followed by some creep who might have intended anything from grabbing your purse to slitting your throat or rape? You don't call that a big deal?”
“I probably overreacted. Maybe no one was following me. Maybe that man on the street behind me was innocently walking home, too.”
“Hah. You say that now because you're all safe and sound and cozy and warm again. But that's not what you were saying twenty minutes ago when I found you in that damn bar. And while we're on the subject, why the hell did you have to pick that joint? It was a real dive. Every jerk in there was leering at you.”
“It was the first place I saw when I decided to get off the street. Hugh, are you going to keep yelling like this or can we get something to eat? I'm hungry.”
“I've got a right to be concerned here, Mattie.”
“I know. But as I said, I'm just not used to it,” she explained softly.
He eyed her for a long, thoughtful moment. “No, I guess you're not, are you? You're too accustomed to taking care of yourself.”
She tried a tentative smile. “Just like you.”
“Yeah. Sort of. Come on, let's eat. I'll finish chewing you out later.”
Mattie started to get up off the couch. “I've got some buckwheat noodles and vegetables I can fix.”
“Forget it. After all the excitement, I need something more substantial.” Hugh was already reaching for the phone. “I'm going to order in a pizza.”
Mattie was horrified. “A pizza.”
“I've had a hard day, Mattie. I need real nourishment. I'll tell you something. This business of being able to order up a pizza in the middle of the night and have it delivered is about the only really good thing about city living I've discovered yet. While we're waiting for it to get here, we'll have a drink. I think we both need one.”
Forty-five minutes later Mattie had to admit the aroma of a fresh pizza was far more captivating than it ought to have been. She decided to forget about a well-balanced meal that evening and decided to enjoy herself. She deserved a break.
“So how did it go with the guy in the computer lab at Vailcourt?” she asked around a dripping bite.
“He didn't have a whole lot. Just a possible name to pin on whoever it is that seems to be running things behind the scenes on Purgatory.”
“What name?”
“McCormick. John McCormick. It doesn't mean anything. He seems to have come out of nowhere. There's no paper on him, no background, no history at all. Which means the name's an alias. Johnson is going to try to check deeper, but he says he probably won't find much. I called Silk and told him what I had. The name may mean more out there by now.”
Mattie nodded. “Any sign of Gibbs yet?”
“No. He definitely lit out for safer country. I'd sure as hell like to know what spooked him and who killed Rosey.”
“This McCormick person?”
“Looks like it, but why? Apparently, he's safely in power there on Purgatory. Why should he care if a couple of bit players learned his name? Hell, the name is showing up in the computers now. He can't hope to keep it a secret.”
“But you said it doesn't mean anything,” Mattie said slowly. “Maybe Gibbs and Rosey found out it does mean something. Maybe they found out who he really is, and McCormick didn't like it.”
“Or maybe they saw something they shouldn't have seen,” Hugh said thoughtfully. “A couple of bozos like those two could easily have stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Or Rosey's death might have nothing at all to do with this McCormick person,” Mattie pointed out. “It might all be a remarkable coincidence.”
Hugh gave her a wry look. “Yeah. Remarkable.”
“Coincidences do happen, you know.”
“Not where I come from.”
Mattie studied the three acrylic paintings Flynn had propped up in front of her desk. Ariel was hovering near the door in an uncharacteristically reticent fashion.
The silence in the small room was laced with the peculiar tension that always exists at such moments between artist and dealer.
Mattie smiled slowly. “I love them,” she said, enthralled. “I absolutely love them.”
“You sure?” Flynn asked, breathless with relief.
Mattie felt the delicious thrill of discovery. The paintings were vivid, evocative images that tapped Flynn's undeniably powerful inner vision. But they were not the dark, grotesque, unidentifiable scenes that had formerly characterized his work.
These pictures were filled with color and light and energy. Mattie knew they would sell in a red-hot minute.
“They're perfect,” she told him, unable to look away from one particular painting, a shimmering image of a woman standing at a window that looked out on a jarringly primitive landscape. “Absolutely wonderful. I'll hang all three immediately. Deal?”
Flynn's eyes lit with elation. “Deal.” He watched her go around behind her desk to pull out a blank contract.
“They're really good, aren't they, Mattie?” Ariel moved forward, radiating a more familiar self-confidence now that judgment had been passed. “I don't know why I gave Flynn such a hard time about trying something for you. It was stupid of me to worry that he might be prostituting his talent. How can you prostitute talent, anyway? It's either there or it isn't.”
“That's been my guiding philosophy since the day I set up Sharpe Reaction,” Mattie admitted.
“And Flynn is loaded with talent, isn't he?”
“Yup. Loaded. And now he's found a way to make that talent accessible to other people. People who have enough money to pay for it.”
Out of the corner of her eye Mattie saw Flynn turning red under the unstinting praise. He deserved it, she thought. It was more amusing to witness Ariel's dramatic about-face. There was nothing quite like the fervor of the newly converted.
“What does it matter if Flynn caters to mainstream tastes for a while?” Ariel demanded passionately. “All the great artists of the past did it. Just think, Raphael, Michelangelo, Rubens, all of them. They all had to please their patrons. Art has always had to walk the fine line between pursuing individual vision and making that vision compelling to the public.”
Mattie slanted Flynn an amused glance as she opened a drawer and pulled out the paperwork she needed. “I agree. But, then, I sell commercial schlock for a living, so I'm somewhat biased.”
“Don't say that, Mattie,” Ariel instructed fiercely. “It's hardly as if you're pushing pictures of matadors painted on black velvet, you know. You're developing the next generation of important collectors, making them aware of great artists such as Flynn and thereby expanding their consciousness of art in general.”
�
��My God,” Mattie murmured. “My sister has turned into a raving supporter of art for the masses. I don't know if I can handle the shock.”
“You're teasing me,” Ariel complained.
“I know. Sorry.”
“It's all right. I deserve it.”
Mattie looked at a smiling Flynn. “She's really appalling when she's in her noble repentant role, isn't she?”
“Appalling, all right. Fortunately, that's one of her least favorite acts.” Flynn grinned at his wife.
Ariel stuck her tongue out at both of them and then chuckled happily. “I told Flynn about the baby, Mattie.”
“And that settled the matter of what I'm going to paint for a while,” Flynn stated firmly. “Pretty exciting, isn't it? Imagine me being a daddy. I went out and bought a set of watercolors and brushes for the kid this morning.”
“You're going to be a terrific father,” Mattie told him. For the first time she allowed herself to wonder just what sort of father Hugh would be. Probably an overprotective one, she decided. But definitely a committed one. A man like Hugh took his responsibilities very seriously.
She remembered what he had once said about his own childhood in the heat of an argument. She knew instinctively that he was the kind of man who did not repeat the past, but rather learned from it and thereby changed the future.
Men like Hugh were very rare in the modern world. Perhaps they always had been.
The walls threatened to close in again. Mattie took a grip on herself and several deep breaths. She had some time. She did not have to make any decisions right now at this very moment.
The office door opened and Hugh sauntered in carrying an open bottle of Mattie's favorite mineral water.
“This place is sure crowded a lot lately,” he announced. “Every time I come in here I trip over a past, present, or future member of the family.”
“Speaking of family,” Ariel said coolly, “on behalf of Flynn and myself, I'm warning you that you'd damn well better take good care of Mattie. I don't know what she sees in you, but as long as she sees something she wants, you'd better behave. Make her cry a second time, Abbott, and you'll regret it.”
Silver Linings Page 24
