The Keeping

by Nicky Charles

“Maybe he’s been dragging his feet, so you’d stick around longer.” Beth gave her a speculative look over the rim of her cup.

  “No,” Mel let her shoulders slump as she admitted the truth. “I sort of wondered and half hoped that was the case, but last night… Well, let’s just say I found out otherwise.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t know Ryne well, but he seems to be paying you a lot of attention. You’ve had dinner together, been out to his house, people have seen you sitting together at the cenotaph… ” Beth numbered off the interactions on her fingers.

  “What is this? Am I under twenty-four hour surveillance or something?” Mel looked at her aghast.

  “No, just staying in a small town.” Beth chuckled and pulled out a box of cookies from her bottom desk drawer, taking one before politely sharing.

  Mel took one as well and nibbled on it thoughtfully. She didn’t like the idea that people had paid such close attention to what she’d been doing. It was sort of like being under a microscope. Perhaps that was yet another reason to head back to Chicago. There, no one noticed anything; you were completely alone despite being surrounded by hundreds of people. A slight grimace passed over her face. Somehow the thought wasn’t as comforting as it was supposed to be. Turning her attention back to Beth, she addressed the issue of the town’s gossip. “Well, despite what everyone thinks they’ve seen, there’s really nothing between Ryne and myself. As a matter of fact, once I’m done with him today, I’ll probably be leaving.”

  “Really? Gee, that’s too bad. I’ve enjoyed your company.” Beth looked disappointed for a moment, but after a second or two smiled and started cajoling her. “If you’d stay longer, I’d be able to talk Josh into getting a new sofa with the extra rent money!”

  “Well, with a request like that, how could I not?” Mel laughed, just as Beth had probably intended her to. “Don’t worry; you might not be rid of me as fast as you think. I still have to see what flights are available back to Chicago.” Mel set down her coffee and pulled her chair into place in front of her computer. “Where’s Josh today?” She asked idly while waiting for the internet to hook up.

  “He’s home, still complaining about his tooth, the big baby!” Beth shook her head. “I told him to stay away, because I didn’t want to hear him whining all day after listening to him all last night. He said if it quit hurting by noon, he’d do a bit of work around the cabins, trimming bushes and a doing few repairs.”

  Mel nodded in acknowledgement of the information and went to her e-mail account. She’d check for any messages and then try to book a flight home.

  “Will you be heading out to Ryne’s when you’re done here?” Beth finished her snack and put the box of cookies away.

  “Actually, someone told me last night that he was working at Miller’s today, to make up for being away yesterday.”

  “I wonder why he was out of town.” Beth’s eye sparked with interest. “Maybe it’s something worth reporting!”

  “I have absolutely no idea, but let me get my interview out of the way before you start to question him.” Mel answered distractedly while staring at the computer screen. “Now this is funny.”

  “What’s that?” Beth scooted her chair over to take a peek.

  “That website I applied to yesterday sent me a reply. They’re considering my status as a ‘Lycan,’ once more research on my background is completed. I can expect to hear back from them in two to four weeks.” Mel sat back in her chair feeling perplexed. “Now that’s just weird. I thought it was all a hoax.”

  Beth giggled. “So you might become a card carrying member of the Lycan community?

  “I guess so.”

  Both women shook their heads at the utter ridiculousness of the idea and then turned back to more important matters. Beth tapped away on her keyboard, writing articles about local happenings while Mel checked out flight information. After a few searches, she discovered there was a flight out of Toronto with seats available Friday night and another on Saturday. Mel chose the Saturday one, thinking that she’d like to spend part of the day in Toronto shopping at the Eaton’s Centre, a large shopping mall in that city’s core. If she had time, she might even go to see a show.

  She hovered the cursor over the accept button, feeling a moment of regret. Once she clicked on the icon, she was effectively saying goodbye to Stump River forever. There was little chance that she’d ever return to see Lucy or Beth or Al or Ruth or Armand… When she thought about it, it was surprising how many people she’d come to know in such a short time. Back in Chicago, she didn’t even know the name of the people who lived next door and they’d been there for months!

  Her mind had purposely skirted away from thinking about Bryan and Daniel. She hadn’t seen them that often, yet in some ways she viewed them as the brothers she had never had. It had been fun hanging out with them last night, well, at least until Ryne appeared. Would she miss him? Firming her jaw, she gave an emphatic mental ‘no.’ The man wasn’t to be trusted and the sooner she was away from him, the better. Before she could change her mind, she clicked the ‘accept’ button and watched the screen flash her confirmed flight. The ticket would be waiting for her at the airport. Mel wondered why that fact made her feel slightly ill.

  Checking her watch, she pushed her chair back. It was time to find and confront Ryne. There was no point in putting it off. They’d parted badly and she really didn’t want to see him, but getting it over and done with was the best plan; sort of like removing a bandage… fast and clean. Once she stated that the interview had to be done today because she was leaving, he’d see that she was no longer willing to play along with his little games. Oh, he’d probably protest and make excuses, but she wouldn’t stand for it. Even if he was working, he could still answer her questions while he pumped gas and changed tires. With her steno pad of questions firmly clutched in her hand, she bid farewell to Beth and headed out the door.

  *****

  Aldrich leaned back in his leather chair and stared out his office window. His feet, encased in highly polished designer shoes, were propped up on his desk while the fingers of one hand idly twirled an engraved, gold-plated pen. His other hand held a receiver lightly to his ear as he listened to Greyson’s instructions.

  The view from his fifteenth storey window was impressive, though Aldrich hardly ever bothered to notice it. This type of location was just one part of the prestigious perks that came with working for such a wealthy man like Greyson. He was, after all, one of the wealthiest men in the country. It was a far cry from where he had started his legal career; a small office in a rundown three storey walk up. He’d been fresh out of school, in debt up to his ears and eager to make his mark on the world. Note the absence of the word ‘idealistic.’ Aldrich smirked. He’d never been idealistic. A realistic view of how the world worked was his main advantage. Know where to be, who to talk to and when to look the other way; that was his motto and so far it had served him well. Hence, his job with Greyson Inc.

  A few drops of rain fell on the glass, drawing his attention to the weather. The sky was grey and overcast, matching his mood perfectly. Greyson was being more difficult than ever and Aldrich was stretching his patience to the limit as he attempted to remain calm and unflappable. While he’d never openly admit it, he found the tycoon a tad… difficult… to handle. He’d been working for the man for five years now and still never knew what to make of him.

  The man was rich, powerful, moody, and more than a little eccentric. Today it was one of his eccentricities that were giving Aldrich a headache. Honestly, how the man had ever managed to amass a fortune was a mystery. He had no sense of the value of a dollar, squandering money on foolish projects, ignoring the safety of priceless art objects…

  “Are you listening, Aldrich?” The voice barked down the line at him and Aldrich momentarily removed the receiver from his ear.

  “Yes, sir. You were explaining that you’ll be incommunicado for five days.” He didn’t add that it was a monthly ritual and there was
no need for the phone call. Humouring clients was all part of the job.

  “Good. Thought you’d dozed off in that cushy office I pay for.”

  “No, sir. I’m just taking note of your instructions. You will be unavailable for the usual five days. The west wing of the house is sealed and all but a skeleton staff will be given a long weekend. No one is to enter the estate, except emergency personnel in the event of a fire or some other such tragedy. If that is the case, the Ryne Taylor photograph is to be saved first.” He hesitated to speak what was on his mind, but given that Greyson was on the other end of a phone line and not in the room, Aldrich decided to be bold. “Sir, the chances of a fire are negligible and, if such an event were to occur, other pieces of your collection are worth considerably more than that one picture.”

  “I don’t care. They belong to me, and like everything that I own, I decide their fate.”

  “Of course, sir.” Aldrich allowed himself the luxury of rolling his eyes. “Is there anything else, sir?”

  “The girl, Melody, make sure she does her job. I’ll expect an update on her progress the next time I call.”

  Aldrich bit his lip. He’d like to say ‘Progress? What progress?’ but knew better. Greyson seemed to feel she’d do the job to his satisfaction. It was best to let the man have his way. If Greene messed up and blew the assignment, well… Aldrich would be able to whisper an ‘I told you so’ once his employer was out of earshot.

  “And Aldrich? I’m holding you personally responsible for the success of this project.”

  “But… !” Aldrich sat up straight, his feet hitting the floor and the chair squeaking in protest at the sudden movement. The injustice of the statement had him almost sputtering. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t chosen the woman. If she failed, it wasn’t his fault.

  “Ha! Made you sweat, didn’t I, Leon?”

  Settling back in his seat, Aldrich sneered before answering, but his voice held no evidence of the fact. He hadn’t come this far, without being able to exercise considerable self-control. “Another of your jokes, sir.”

  “Maybe. I’ll let you think about it while I’m gone.”

  The phone went dead and Aldrich slowly set the receiver down. Greyson had to have been joking. There was no way he could be held accountable for that girl’s incompetence, especially since Greyson himself had hired her, despite his advice to the contrary.

  Aldrich sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. Greyson liked to play games with him, and this was, quite likely, one of them. Still, the old codger was unpredictable. Hmm… Just in case, he’d better pay extra attention to Ms. Greene and her assignment. She couldn’t be allowed to mar his impeccable record of service.

  Chapter 27

  Ryne glanced at himself in the side-view mirror as he bent down to accept payment for the gas he’d just pumped into the car. There was no sign that his nose had been broken the previous night. No bruising or swelling, and the bridge was as straight as it had ever been—thank goodness weres healed quickly. Daniel had done a good job dealing with him last night. His pack mate’s calm and logical manner had been what his angry wolf had needed. Ryne made a note to commend the boy—no, make that ‘man.’ Daniel was maturing and Ryne knew he needed to quit treating him as a kid, give him more responsibilities. As a matter of fact both Bryan and Daniel were quite competent. The problem was, being a small pack, in a quiet town, there really wasn’t a lot that needed doing and so they tended to slack off. Their occasional shifts at the lumber yard left them with a lot of free time. Maybe with the arrival of the new members…

  He turned his attention back to the occupant of the car—Mrs. Swain—and accepted the money she handed him. She was eighty if she was day and the personification of a sweet old lady, down to her silvery grey hair, bifocals, and floral print dress. He always spent extra time chatting to her since he knew she lived alone.

  “I heard all about you, you bad boy.” She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling with merriment behind her thick glasses.

  “And what did you hear?” He played along, knowing full well what was coming since every customer so far had said the same thing.

  “You were fighting over that new girl in town.” She shook her head and tsked at him. “And here I thought you only had eyes for me.”

  “Mrs. Swain, they are rumours, nothing but vicious rumours. You know I’m waiting for you to turn sixteen so I can start courting you.” He pressed a hand to his chest and tried to look besotted.

  It must have worked for she giggled girlishly and patted his cheek before leaving. He watched her drive away, noting how she carefully looked both ways at the traffic light before sneaking through on the red with a slight squeal of her tires. What a little rebel, he chuckled to himself.

  After depositing the money from the sale in the till, he returned to the service bay where he’d been changing tires. He’d only taken two steps into the work space when he froze. Over the smell of oil, tire rubber, and exhaust, he detected something else drifting in through the open bay doors. Melody. Her scent was sweet and feminine with just a hint of green apples. Turning, he saw her determinedly walking across the parking area towards him. Her jaw was set and tilted upward. In one hand she was tightly holding a steno pad, while the other seemed to have a death grip on the shoulder strap of her purse.

  Damn! He’d been hoping to avoid this for a few more hours, though why he didn’t know. It wasn’t going to be pretty, no matter when it happened. Steeling himself for what must be done, he walked to the entrance and leaned against the door frame.

  When she was a few feet away, she caught sight of him and stopped. “Ryne.”

  “Melody.”

  They stared across the open space for a few moments, assessing each other as one might before entering a battle. He wondered what she was thinking. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips compressed. An aura of determination surrounded her. She’d definitely come here expecting to kick his ass, he decided.

  “I’m not here to talk about yesterday. That’s over and done with. All I want is to finish this interview and then I’ll leave you alone.” She waved the steno pad at him while delivering her message in clipped tones, with no emotional undertones. He mentally congratulated her on her self control.

  Shoving his hands in his back pockets, he shrugged and set out to be as obnoxious as possible. “What interview?”

  “The one you agreed to give me about your work.”

  “Yeah, well… I’ve changed my mind.” Ryne let his gaze slide away and feigned interest in the truck that was parked across the street. He detected a slight change in her breathing pattern and wondered how she would respond.

  “You’ve changed your mind? Just like that? Can I ask why?”

  “Ask away. I may or may not answer.” He looked at her blandly.

  “But we had an agreement. You said—”

  “I said I had complete control and I’m exerting it. I’ve decided I don’t want to be interviewed. I don’t want or need the publicity and you’re not paying me, so… it’s off. Sorry you wasted your time.” He shoved away from the door frame and stood straight. “If you don’t mind, go home. I have work to do.”

  “But that’s not fair! I’ve done nothing to warrant you cancelling our agreement. In fact, I’ve been very patient and spent a lot of time waiting for you, humouring you… I’ve never complained about all your teasing and innuendo. It’s only fair that you give me a bit of your time in return.” He could tell she was close to losing control. Her breathing was rapid, the colour rising in her cheeks.

  “Life’s never fair, sweetheart. You were… moderately… entertaining, but now you’re bordering on boring. It’s time for you to leave.”

  “I’m not leaving until I get my interview!” She stepped into his personal space, poking him in the chest with her finger. He had to give her credit. Very few people were brave—or foolish—enough to do that. It was fortunate that he had a soft spot for her. The last person to poke him in the chest like that ha
d ended up with cast on their hand.

  Ryne loomed over her, keeping his eyes narrowed, his expression cold. Even before he spoke, he saw how Melody responded to his aura; there was a faint tremor running over her and she had difficulty maintaining eye contact. Good. She was nervous and unsure of him. He pressed his advantage, delivering his message in icy, clipped tones.

  “You’re very lucky that I have such good control over my temper. Most people wouldn’t be walking away from an encounter like this.” Casually, he reached forward and chucked her under the chin, causing her teeth to click together. “Now, run along little girl, before my benevolence disappears and I take exception to your attitude.” He heard her gulp and gave a minute nod of satisfaction. She was definitely getting the message. Feeling he had done his job, he turned and went back inside, completely ignoring her.

  Even with his back turned, he was aware of her continued presence. He bent over to pick up a ratchet and glanced behind him. She stood there gaping at him, no doubt processing what had just happened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her snap her jaw shut then toss her hair back from her face before striding inside. Oh great, he muttered under his breath, now she’s going to try and show off the fact that she had a backbone. Why couldn’t women be meek and obedient, running the other way when a wolf growled at them?

  He kept working, resolved to ignore her, even when she stood directly behind him.

  “Where did you grow up?”

  Ryne didn’t answer.

  “What schools did you go to? Do you have any family? Do you see them often? What do they think of your work?”

  Clenching his teeth, he yanked the rear wheel tire off the car he had up on the hoist, and then sent it rolling towards a pile destined for recycling. Turning, he grabbed a new tire, forcing Melody to step back in order to not get hit.

  Appearing unfazed, Melody continued her barrage of questions, waiting only a moment after each before asking a new one or rephrasing an older one. Where had he lived previously? What were his favourite colours? Did he have a favourite artist who he admired? Where had he sold his art? What was his first camera? Where had he taken most of his pictures? What was his favourite picture? Did he plan on another exhibit in the future?