The Golden Chance

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Been lookin' for you, Phila,” Tec called from the jeep. “Mrs. Castleton wants to see you. Can you come up to the house for a few minutes?”

  “I suppose so. What does she want?”

  “Damned if I know. Don't forget we have another session at the range scheduled today.”

  “You know, it had just about slipped my mind, Tec.”

  Tec grinned evilly. “I won't let you forget. Nick'd nail my hide to the nearest barn door if I let you get away without more practice.”

  “That's just an excuse. The truth is, you like the idea of having me under your thumb, don't you? You like giving me orders. Were you ever a drill sergeant, by any chance?”

  “Spent a coupla years at Pendleton,” Tec admitted, looking cheerful at the recollection.

  “I'll bet you had fun beating up on new recruits.”

  “No fun in it. Just a job. But teachin' you to shoot straight is gonna be kind of fun, I think. Hop in the jeep. I'll drive you up to the house.”

  With a groan of resignation, Phila got into the vehicle. “Are you sure you don't know why Eleanor wants to see me?”

  “No. But I reckon she'll tell you.”

  Five minutes later he brought the jeep to a halt in the Castleton drive. “She's around back in her greenhouse.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the lift. I guess. One never knows around here.” A welcoming yip made her turn around, and she groaned in dismay. “Oh, no. The killer dogs.”

  Cupcake and Fifi came dashing around the side of the house, charging happily toward Phila. They were all over her in an instant, thrusting their noses into her palm and fidgeting with delight over her presence.

  “Look at it this way,” Tec said, “they make better friends than enemies. Same goes for Castletons and Lightfoots. I'll pick you up at three o'clock for target practice.”

  “I'll see if I can fit another practice session into my schedule.”

  But she could tell from the way Tec was grinning that she didn't have any choice. She followed the dogs around to the front portico of the Castleton beach cottage, wondering if her coming meeting with Eleanor Castleton would offer her any more leeway than Tec did.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “There you are, dear. Do come in. I was just puttering.” Eleanor looked up with her slightly distracted air as Phila appeared in the greenhouse doorway.

  “This is quite a setup.” Phila gazed around in wonder. The greenhouse was warm and humid and redolent of tropical smells. The curiously appealing scent of rich soil underlay the entire medley of odors. Water gurgled in a large aquarium. Phila's nose twitched appreciatively. “I've never been inside a private greenhouse. I think I'd like one of these myself.”

  Eleanor peered at her from under the brim of her denim gardening cap. She was busy snipping leaves from a plant that had a number of cup-shaped appendages. “You're interested in plants?”

  “I like plants and flowers. I'd love to have a place where I could grow them year round.” Phila leaned over to examine an oddly shaped red leaf that had a row of spines around its edge. “What is this? Some sort of cactus?”

  “No, dear. That's a Dionaea muscipula. A Venus's-fly-trap.”

  Phila, who had been about to touch the unusual leaf, jerked her finger back out of reach. “A carnivorous plant?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “How interesting. I'm sort of into ivy and philodendron, myself.” Phila looked around, frowning as she realized she did not recognize any of the abundant, healthy plant life that filled the greenhouse. “That plant you're pruning, the one with the little cups. What is it?”

  “A variety of sarracenia. I'm working on developing a hybrid. Notice the nicely shaped pitchers?”

  “Is that a pitcher plant? The kind unsuspecting bugs fall into and can't get back out of?”

  Eleanor smiled fondly at the plant under her hands. “Yes, indeed, dear. The pitchers are modified leaves, of course. Quite fascinating to watch the insect discover the nectar and begin feeding on the lip of the leaf.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “The silly creature just keeps moving farther and farther into the pitcher until all of a sudden its little feet start sliding on the tiny little hairs inside the leaf. The insect slips and slides, trying to get its feet back under itself and then it reaches the waxy area where there's no footing at all. Before it knows what's happened, the little thing just falls straight down into the bottom of the pitcher.”

  Phila eyed the innocent-looking plant. “Then what?”

  “Why then it gets eaten, dear.” Eleanor smiled. “Once inside, it can't escape from the bowl of the pitcher, you see. It's trapped.”

  “How does the plant digest it?”

  “The bottom of the pitcher has a set of special glands that secrete digestive enzymes,” Eleanor explained. “A bacterial reaction is produced, too, which aids in the digestion of prey.” She glanced around vaguely. “Jordan was playing with that row of sarracenia over there the other day. If you look inside some of the pitchers you might see some bits and pieces of ant chitin at the bottom.”

  “That's okay, I'm going to have lunch soon.” The aquarium caught Phila's attention. “Are those plants in that tank carnivorous, too?”

  “Oh, yes. A species of Utricularia. The common name is bladderworts.”

  “Everything in this greenhouse is carnivorous, isn't it?” Phila looked straight at Eleanor, wondering if she would be insulted by her double meaning.

  “Yes, dear. Carnivorous plants are my specialty.” Eleanor snipped off another leaf.

  Apparently the double entendre had been a bit too subtle. Either that or Eleanor was too much of a lady to rise to the bait. “How long have you been interested in these plants?” Phila asked.

  “Let me see, how long has it been now? Over thirty years, I believe. I used to raise orchids before I became fascinated with carnivorous plants.”

  “Is that right?” Phila decided she'd had enough of the horticultural discussion. “Thank you for dinner last night, Eleanor. I had a very interesting time.”

  “You're quite welcome. I thought it might be nice for you to have an opportunity to spend an evening with all of us together.”

  “So I'd understand that I don't fit in with the Lightfoots and Castletons any more than Crissie did? What are you worried about, Eleanor? That I might be entertaining the notion of becoming part of this happy-go-lucky family group?”

  Eleanor flinched at the blunt attack, but she rallied quickly. “I'm sure your background is considerably different from ours, just as Miss Masters's was.”

  “The amusing thing is that if Crissie's father had accepted his responsibilities, Crissie's background would have been exactly the same as Darren's. Makes one stop and think, doesn't it? Raises all sorts of interesting questions on the old subject of heredity versus environment.”

  Eleanor's pleasantly vague expression hardened as she took visible hold of herself. “I asked you to come here today because I wish to talk quite frankly to you about the shares in your possession.”

  “That doesn't surprise me. What's your pitch, Eleanor? Hilary tried to buy them back. Vicky cried and tried to put a guilt trip on me by telling me I was stealing her son's inheritance. I'll be interested to hear your approach.”

  “You're not so different from Crissie Masters, after all, are you? The others are beginning to think you might be, but I can see the truth. I've had a little more experience in detecting it, you see.” Eleanor worked the garden shears with a small, violent movement. A handful of leaves cascaded to the table. “Oh, yes, I've seen the way the men in the families are starting to change toward you. Men are so blind, aren't they?”

  “Are they, Eleanor?”

  “You think you'll soon have them eating out of the palm of your hand, don't you? Reed was laughing at the table last night. Actually laughing. He hasn't done that in a long time. And Nick looks at you in a way he never looked at Hilary. Even Darren found you entertaining last night. Vicky told me th
is morning that he's not nearly as worried as he should be about you.”

  “You think your son should be worried?”

  “Of course he should be worried. His whole future is in the hands of a hustling little opportunist who's obviously out for the best deal she can get. You're just like Crissie. Just as cruel and vicious as she was.”

  “If you're going to attack someone, attack me, not Crissie. She's dead, remember?”

  The distracted expression vanished from Eleanor's eyes as her head came up sharply. Her gracious accent was taut with controlled fury. “Hilary tried to make an honest bargain with you, Miss Fox, but you turned her down. Vicky tried to reason with you. If you had been a decent person, you would have accepted the money and given back the shares. You did no such thing. You're out to cause pain and destruction, just as Crissie did.”

  Phila dug her nails into her palms. “This family caused Crissie a lot of pain. Eventually it destroyed her.”

  “That's not true.”

  “She's dead, Eleanor, and you're all still alive,” Phila pointed out softly. “So don't talk to me about who caused the pain and destruction. The results speak for themselves.”

  Eleanor stopped clipping leaves. Her eyes were very bright with a mixture of anger and what looked like anguish. “Crissie Masters was cheap and spiteful. She caused trouble from the moment she appeared in our lives, always trying to set one of us against the other. Don't you dare try to make me feel sorry for her. I will never forgive her for what she did while she was here. She had no right to descend on us the way she did. No right at all.”

  “Crissie was not the one who originally caused the pain,” Phila said. “She was another victim of the one who was responsible, just like you. Your husband caused your pain years ago when he had a tacky little one-night stand and got some poor young woman pregnant. Crissie is the result of your husband's indiscriminate womanizing.”

  “You have no right to talk about my husband that way. Burke Castleton was a fine man. A successful, influential businessman. A credit to his community. His son is going to be the next governor of this state, so you will do well to keep a civil tongue in your head, young woman.”

  “I'll admit it wasn't particularly charitable of Crissie to come crashing into your lives, but Crissie didn't know much about real charity. You learn things like that by example, Eleanor, and no one ever showed her any warmth or kindness while she was growing up.”

  “I don't have to listen to this.”

  “You started it. If you're going to insist on blaming Crissie for all the trauma your husband caused, I'm damn sure going to insist on setting the record straight. Put the blame where it belongs, on the man you married.” Phila thought her nails were breaking the skin of her palms, but she was determined to keep a level tone to her voice.

  “Stop it. Stop it. Stop it right now, do you hear me? The blame belongs on that cheap little tramp.” Eleanor's voice was becoming shrill.

  “No, Eleanor,” Phila whispered through set teeth. “It belongs on a man who cheated on his wife all those years ago. And I'll tell you something else. If he did it once, chances are he did it several times. Let's hope for your sake you don't have to deal with any more surprises from the past on your doorstep.”

  “Shut your foul mouth, you little slut.”

  “Ah, now I get it. That's the real source of your anguish, isn't it? You know deep down what kind of man your husband really was. I'll bet you knew it back then. You're a smart woman, Eleanor. Too smart not to know what Burke Castleton was like. Was that why you gave up growing orchids and started cultivating carnivorous plants? Is this how you started working out your frustration with a marriage you knew would never become what you wanted it to be?”

  “You are a monstrous woman,” Eleanor gasped. “Monstrous.”

  “I'm just spelling out a few facts.” Phila could feel herself shaking.

  “I will not let you talk to me like this.” Eleanor gripped the workbench very tightly. “You're nothing but a no-account little whore, and I'm certain Nick realizes it. You've got no looks, no money and no background. Use your head, you fool. If you had any sense you'd see that Nick is only using you for his own ends. How could he possibly be interested in you except for some cheap sex? After all, he was once married to Hilary.”

  “You think Hilary is more his type?” Phila asked scathingly.

  “Hilary is beautiful, well mannered and well bred. Her family goes back to the Mayflower. She's everything you're not, and Nick must know that. How can you possibly hope to compete with her?”

  “I didn't notice there was a competition going on,” Phila got out tightly. “Hilary's married to another man, or have you forgotten? I'm sure she's too much of a lady to go after one man when she's wearing another's ring. Besides, Nick doesn't show any signs of being interested in her. Don't get your hopes up about a grand reconciliation between those two, Eleanor. I know you handpicked her for Nick, but that doesn't mean you picked the right woman.”

  “You don't know anything, do you?” Eleanor's voice was as brittle as glass. “You silly little fool. You have no idea of what you're dealing with here. You're just standing on the outside looking in, trying to stir up trouble. But for your information, you're quite right. Hilary would not go out of her way to get Nick back. Why should she want him back after what he did to her?”

  “Just what did he do to her, Eleanor?”

  “Vicky said she told you about the baby.”

  “So what? You think the baby was Nick's?”

  “I know the baby was Nick's.” Eleanor's eyes had never appeared less vague. “He raped her. The next time you go to bed with him think about that, you little whore. You've got a lot of nerve calling my Burke a womanizer when you're sleeping with a man who raped his own wife.”

  “You don't know what you're talking about.”

  Eleanor smiled thinly. “Don't I? It's the truth. Nick forced himself on Hilary because he was furious with her for asking for a divorce. She got pregnant and nearly had a nervous breakdown.”

  “I don't believe you.”

  “Then you are a very stupid woman, Philadelphia Fox.”

  “Did Hilary tell you she was raped?”

  “Yes, after she realized she had gotten pregnant. She took some tranquilizers and came to see me the next morning. Nick had already left a couple of weeks earlier. Hilary was rambling, almost incoherent. But she told me everything, including how she had been assaulted by Nick before he left. She didn't know what to do. I'm the one who called Reed.”

  “And Reed did the noble thing, of course?”

  Eleanor drew herself up stiffly. “Reed is a good man. A bit rough in his ways still, even after all these years, but he's a good, decent man.”

  Phila forced herself to think through the swirl of emotions that threatened to blind her. “All right, I'll go along with you on that. I think he is a decent man. But so is Nick. And you know it.”

  “I don't wish to discuss Nick any further.”

  “Umm hmmm. Tell me, Eleanor, if you really believed he had treated Hilary so badly, why would you have bothered to keep in touch with him during the past three years?”

  Eleanor tossed aside the clippers and picked up a small watering can. “Nick is family. I couldn't just let him be cut off completely,” she whispered.

  “Especially when you knew in your soul he'd gotten a bum rap?”

  “You don't know what you're talking about.”

  “Maybe. Perhaps I'm being too charitable. I'm assuming that you kept in touch with Nick because you suspected he was innocent, but maybe the real reason was a lot more practical—a lot more mercenary. Did you keep in touch with him because you knew that someday the families would need him back to run Castleton & Lightfoot? Did you want to leave the door open in case you decided to recall him for active duty?”

  The spout of the can trembled as Eleanor tried to water a plant. “I do not have to explain my actions to someone of your type.”

  “Fai
r enough. I don't have to stand around and explain myself to someone of your type.” She turned toward the door.

  “Miss Fox.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Castleton?”

  “I demand that you tell me what you are going to do with those shares.”

  “When I decide, I'll be sure to let you know.”

  “Those shares belong to my son, damn you.”

  “Crissie had as much right to them as Darren did. She was Burke's daughter, remember?”

  “No. No, damn you, no. She was an outsider.” Eleanor's eyes filled with tears, and her proud face began to crumple.

  Phila went through the door and closed it behind her with shaking hands. Her legs felt weak. When the dogs danced over to greet her, she nearly collapsed beneath their assault.

  But there was something very comforting about their cheerful, overflowing affection. Phila sank to the ground and hugged the animals close.

  * * *

  That afternoon on the firing range, Phila concentrated fiercely on Tec's instructions. He seemed to sense that her attitude toward the handgun lessons had undergone a major change. He gave his orders in a crisp, no-nonsense voice, and Phila did exactly as she was told. When she finally succeeded in putting a whole group of shots into the target, he nodded with satisfaction.

  “Nick'll be pleased,” Tec said. “Let's do it again.”

  She went through the routine over and over again. Time after time she gripped the revolver as she had been taught, found the trigger with her index finger, brought the weapon up in a sweeping motion and fired. Round after round went into the paper targets. The muffled roar of the .38 and Tec's harsh voice became the only sounds in the world.

  “Don't worry about speed. It doesn't do any good to get off the first shot if it's a bad one. Just take it slow and easy for now.”

  When Tec finally signaled a halt, Phila had to yank herself back to reality. She pulled the hearing muffs off her head and rubbed her temples with thumb and forefinger.