Suspicions: A Twist of FateTears of Pride

by Lisa Jackson

  The problem with the marriage had not really been Olivia, but rather the differences between Erin and Lee. Although Erin recognized that now, she still found it hard to accept Olivia for what she seemed to be: a very knowledgeable and efficient assistant officer of the bank. Although the problems of the past were long dead, Olivia’s presence at the bank and her vicious tongue continued to plague Erin. She never felt that she could completely trust Olivia.

  Was she being unfair? Erin asked herself as she once again gathered her purse over her shoulder, straightened her skirt and headed out the door. Perhaps Olivia’s attempt to communicate with Erin about Mitch was only natural. Both Olivia and Erin had cared very much for Mitch, and each had worked for him for nearly a decade. Perhaps Olivia felt the need to lash out because of Erin’s cool attitude toward her. It was just possible that Erin was holding too much of a grudge against the sultry woman who wore the designer dresses and tailored suits with such seductive bearing. Erin sighed heavily to herself. Maybe she had never given Olivia a chance.

  But the knot in Erin’s stomach continued to tighten. She just intuitively didn’t trust Olivia. It wasn’t so much what Olivia said that managed to get under Erin’s sensitive thin skin, but the way the words came out. Double entendres, sly winks, suggestive innuendos—all at Erin’s expense.

  As Erin found her way downstairs and out to the parking lot, she tried to dismiss the anxious feeling that had seized her with Olivia’s interruption. But as she unthinkingly put the key into the ignition switch of the car, she hesitated and watched, nearly hypnotized, as the other keys jangled and swung near the steering column. How had her name gotten on the list of people who had keys to the securities cart? Try as she would to remember otherwise, she knew that she had never, in the last few months, signed out for that key! And yet the presence of her own initials negated her perception. Would someone within the bank use her good name for his own purposes? Could someone have forged her initials? Mitch, perhaps? Would Mitchell Cameron stoop so low? With a disgusted grunt to herself and a firm shake of her head, she started the car and dismissed her traitorous thoughts. Where had her loyalty gone? Mitchell Cameron had been kind to her, a friend when she needed one most. She wouldn’t turn her back on him now—nor would she imagine that he would use her name for his own advantage. But then, how could she explain about the key? Could it be, as Olivia said, just a mistake? Probably. And yet…

  There were still slight traces of fog along the waterfront and in the downtown area of Seattle, but as Erin’s yellow VW climbed the hill that supported the apartment house, the mist thinned and by the time she was home the evening was cool but clear. Only a trace of fog could be seen in the wisps that clung to the dark waters of the distant sound.

  It was nearly seven, and Erin wanted to dash up the stairs to get ready for Kane, but propriety stopped her. She set her purse and briefcase on the lowest step of the staircase and knocked softly on Mrs. Cavenaugh’s door.

  A curious blue eye peeked at her through the peephole. Then quickly the door opened, and the slightly bent figure of Milly Cavenaugh greeted Erin with a warm smile.

  “Good evening, Erin. I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Mrs. Cavenaugh said cheerily, and winked broadly at her young landlady.

  Erin’s face creased with anxiety. “Why not? Didn’t the repairmen show up?”

  “Did they ever….” Mrs. Cavenaugh replied with a disapproving purse of her lips. Disgust darkened her eyes and she shook her head as she remembered. “They were here…an entire battalion of them…tracking in mud and heaven-knows-what-else into the house!” Erin’s eyes followed the sweep of Mrs. Cavenaugh’s hand as it included the front porch, entry hall and stairway. The oaken planks of the hallway were, indeed, imprinted with scrambled tracks of mud-laden, booted feet.

  “Did they finish the job?” Erin asked, dragging her eyes away from the mess on the floor and back to her elderly tenant.

  “Partially, I think. It seems that it’s going to take more work than the original estimate showed,” Mrs. Cavenaugh announced, thinking carefully.

  “More work? Why?” Dollar signs flashed in Erin’s mind.

  “Something about dry rot in the floorboards, I think,” Mrs. Cavenaugh explained with a shrug of her bent shoulders. “I’m sorry, dear, I really didn’t pay too much attention—I was too busy trying to get them to wipe the dirt off their boots.”

  Erin felt her heart sink. Dry rot? What was that exactly? Something to do with the condition of the subfloor and support beams, she thought. It sounded like it would cost money—lots of it.

  “Is something wrong, Erin?” Mrs. Cavenaugh asked, assessing the worried look that had appeared on Erin’s face. “Would you like to come in and sit for a moment? I could brew a pot of tea….”

  Forcing herself to smile, Erin shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong, Mrs. Cavenaugh. I was just a little surprised to find out about the dry rot.”

  “Oh, it’s probably nothing to be concerned about anyway,” the elderly lady thought aloud, dismissing the subject with an expansive wave of her hand. Her pale blue eyes took in the concerned look on Erin’s features before asking the question that had been entering her head ever since she had seen Erin through the peephole.

  “How did things go at work today?”

  Erin was still concentrating on the bad news of the dry rot, wondering how extensive the damage was and just how many hundreds or thousands of dollars it would take to correct the problem. Mrs. Cavenaugh’s question startled her.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Work. The new boss. How’re you two getting along?” Thinly veiled interest sparked in her kindly blue eyes.

  Erin pulled out of her reverie at the mention of Kane. “Everything’s going just fine, I guess. Mr. Webster seems to be quite capable.”

  “And Mr. Cameron?” the old lady coaxed inquisitively.

  Once again concern clouded Erin’s violet eyes. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I haven’t been able to reach him.”

  Mrs. Cavenaugh played with the strand of pearls at her neck and clucked her tongue. She wagged her head in disbelief. “I read about it in the papers. Embezzlement—it’s a nasty business.”

  ‘I just wish that I could talk to him,” Erin sighed, and leaned heavily against the banister of the staircase. “It’s all so hard for me to accept.”

  “But your Mr. Webster…”

  “He’s not my Mr. Webster,” Erin interrupted, her cheeks coloring in indignation. Mrs. Cavenaugh’s blue eyes sparkled more brightly.

  “Whatever,” she replied with a dismissive shrug. “What does he think?”

  “Oh, he’s convinced that Mitch is guilty,” Erin murmured, her slim fingers running along the clean cool lines of the wooden railing. Talking about Mitch and the embezzlement drained Erin, and she realized that she shouldn’t be discussing bank business with her neighbor. She straightened her shoulders and changed the subject to a less personal issue. “Have you seen Mr. Jefferies?” she asked Mrs. Cavenaugh, and motioned toward the apartment on the other side of the staircase. “He hasn’t changed his mind about vacating his apartment, has he?”

  “As a matter of fact, I saw him this morning when I was getting my mail,” the gray-haired woman replied importantly. “No, his daughter insists that George will be better off closer to his family.” With a catty wink the wrinkled woman continued, “He is getting on in years, you know.”

  Erin suppressed the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She knew for a fact that Mr. Jefferies was a good ten years younger than Mrs. Cavenaugh, although the sprightly little old lady would be loathe to admit it.

  Erin lifted her shoulders in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, well, you win some and you lose some. I guess I’d better put an advertisement in the Times and put the Vacancy sign back up. It seems that I just took it down!”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” Mrs. Cavenaugh asked, shaking a knowing and gnarled finger in Erin’s surprised face
.

  Erin laughed in spite of herself. “Everybody and anybody. Or so it seems.”

  “Well, they’re right! And what does all that worry get you? Nothing but stomach ulcers and trouble! Now, you take my advice, and—what is it they say these days—you loosen up!”

  Erin grinned and impulsively gave the little old woman a bear hug. “You’re right,” she murmured, and patted the elderly woman’s frail shoulder.

  “Of course I am! You should do yourself a favor and listen to me more often,” Mrs. Cavenaugh rejoined with a proud lift of her chin. “And…if you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll put your hooks into that Webster fellow in a big hurry!”

  “Mrs. Cavenaugh! Have you been spying on me?” Erin inquired with mock dismay.

  The older woman shook her gray head savagely. “Just looking out for your best interests, honey. That’s all!” Then, with a dismissive shrug of her thin shoulders, she added, “Call it spying, if you will. But somebody’s got to take care of you. I saw the way that ex-husband of yours treated you—and I want to make sure that you don’t get hurt again…”

  Erin tried to protest, but the severity of Mrs. Cavenaugh’s wizened blue eyes held her tongue.

  “Now…this Webster fellow, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  “And?”

  “Unless I miss my guess, which isn’t very often, I’d say he’s fallen head over heels for you!”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  But the knowing and pleased look on Mrs. Cavenaugh’s weathered face added silent conviction to the little old lady’s words.

  “I…I had better be running along,” Erin said a little breathlessly as she thought about Mrs. Cavenaugh’s words. Could she possibly be right? Erin picked up her purse and her briefcase and called over her shoulder, “Don’t worry about the mess in the hallway, Mrs. Cavenaugh. I’ll have the janitor clean it in the morning….”

  “Oh, Erin,” the lady at the bottom of the stairs beckoned.

  “Yes.” Erin turned to look back down at her, and she could tell that the woman was struggling with some sort of decision.

  “I thought that maybe you’d want to know—Lee was here today, asking about you.”

  “What?”

  “He left you a note, I think.” Her blue eyes beseeched Erin. “Everything’s okay, isn’t it?”

  Erin hesitated only slightly. “Of course,” she managed, but she heard the hollow sound of her own words. As she mounted the final stairs to her apartment, she heard Mrs. Cavenaugh’s door close and the sharp sound of a bolt being turned in the lock. All of the airy feeling that had cascaded over her from Mrs. Cavenaugh’s suspicions about Kane’s feelings for her had vanished at the mention of Lee. As she thought about it Erin wondered how the little old lady had even seen Kane, but there was something in Mrs. Cavenaugh’s pale blue eyes that bothered Erin. The dear little woman really believed that Kane was falling in love with her. But how would Mrs. Cavenaugh even suspect?

  Erin shook her head and pulled the pins from her hair as she closed the door to her loft. If only she could believe that Kane could love her or at least learn to love her. Erin’s vivid imagination began to run wild.

  But just as her heart began to race in anticipation of Kane’s love, her rational mind cooled her response. What about the wariness she had sensed in the steely depths of Kane’s gray eyes? Why did she always feel that he was studying her—trying to read her mind? Why did she feel that he didn’t completely trust her? Her blood cooled and a shudder raced up her spine. The situation was impossible.

  It was then that she noticed the white envelope that had been shoved under her door. The note from Lee.

  Chapter 8

  It had been nearly two weeks since Erin had found the note thrust intrusively into her apartment. The message was a simple request, “Please call,” and a number that she recognized as a suburban Seattle telephone listing. She had tried to call Lee once, but was relieved when no one answered. Several other times she had been tempted to try and reach him once more, but before she had found the nerve to dial the number, she had changed her mind and left well enough alone. If he really needed her, she reasoned, he would get in touch with her again. A few times she had wadded up the note in an effort to throw it away, but she hadn’t. This morning the note was once again before her as she leaned against the kitchen counter, studiously stirring a bit of honey into her tea. It sat menacingly on the counter, inviting her to make a call that she knew would only bring her more heartache. Was she a coward? Why did she let him linger near her to remind her of the past and the pain.

  She took an experimental sip of the warm amber liquid. As the hot tea slid down her throat, Erin thought about the past two weeks of her life. The days had gone fairly well. On the surface it seemed as if everything in the office was running efficiently, just as a well-oiled banking machine should. For the first time in months Erin had cleaned out her pending probate file along with a series of other nagging paperwork problems that had been building on the corner of her desk for several weeks. Her fear over gossip or rumors spreading concerning her relationship with Kane had been unfounded, other than the one unfortunate and vicious incident with Olivia. Kane proved himself to be a capable and fair employer, and outwardly Erin appeared to enjoy working for him. It had even been possible for her to work professionally with Kane by forcing her personal feelings for him into the background and never letting her emotions color her objectivity or judgment. It had been excruciatingly difficult at times not to reach out and touch him or smooth the worried look from his brow. But she had managed to look the part of a disinterested employee. At least she hoped so.

  It was the nights that disturbed her, she realized now as she moved restlessly from the kitchen, taking the teacup and the crumpled note from Lee with her. Then, after carefully setting the teacup on the coffee table, she spread out the crushed piece of paper and smoothed its creases against the arm of the sofa. The seven digits of Lee’s home phone leaped out at her, and in a moment of sudden decisiveness, she shredded the note into tiny pieces and tossed them disgustedly away in the wastebasket, something she should have done two weeks ago!

  Erin sunk into the soft rose-colored cushions of the couch and continued to reflect on the changes in her life. When she was alone with Kane, she felt a freedom and a rapture that were hard to describe, an enthusiasm and exhilaration that she thought had been lost with her teens. Just the light touch of his hand on her shoulder or his throaty whispered voice could send her spiraling into an emotional bliss that was both wonderful and frightening. Never had she given her heart so willingly or so easily. She knew that a part of Kane wanted to love her; she could feel it as they made love. But for some unknown reason, he wouldn’t let himself enjoy the pleasure of loving her. At first she had thought that the failure of his marriage had hardened him against a commitment to the future, but lately she had sensed that it was a more personal problem that made him withdraw. A problem somehow directly relating to her.

  She shook her tangled curls and looked into the teacup as if she might find the answer to her dilemma in its amber-colored depths. Why the restlessness? Why did she feel like an aerialist carefully balancing her life on a flimsy tightrope and knowing that sometime, although she couldn’t be quite sure exactly when, the tense, frail wire would snap and send her catapulting downward into an empty black emotional abyss? The conflicting roles of daytime employee and nighttime lover were constantly at war in her mind.

  Erin sighed deeply and ran her fingernails in deep grooves along the overstuffed arm of the antique sofa. There were times when she was alone with Kane that the stone wall of wariness in his eyes would weaken, and she would feel an exquisite happiness, the blush of love. But on other occasions, when she lay alone in her bed, listening as he drove off into the night, she discovered a sense of desperation and loneliness that caused feverish nightmares to disturb her sleep.

  Why the torment? Where was the relationship leading them? Why couldn
’t she come to grips with and accept the affair for what it was—a pleasant, sensuous experience? Why did she insist on coloring her feelings with love?

  A key turned in the lock. Kane had returned. Erin could feel herself beginning to coil in tension. Nervously she waited for him to enter—just as he had every night for the past two weeks. But tonight would be different, she vowed to herself. Tonight she would insist upon answers. Why was there always a darkness in his eyes?

  Kane entered the room and shut the door behind him. The stern look on his face only made Erin’s heart hammer more wildly. He was dressed casually in jeans and a tan pullover sweater. His chestnut hair was slightly messy as if he had forgotten about it over the last few hours. It was obvious that he had hurriedly stopped by his hotel before coming to see her. Unusual. The pattern of their life together had been established over the last two weeks, but this Friday night was obviously different to Kane as well as Erin. Even under the intensity of his gaze she reminded herself that she had to know, tonight, what it was that held him away from her.

  “Pack your bags,” Kane commanded without even a smile as a greeting. She jumped at his abrupt command, and for a moment his arctic gray eyes collided with hers. She felt a chill of dread pass over her body. His mouth was a tight, grim line that was neither a smile nor a frown. The grooves across his forehead seemed deeper tonight, as if he, too, had been wrestling with a troublesome and weighty decision.

  “Do what?” she asked incredulously. Surprise and indignation registered in the startled expression that crossed her face. She was still sitting on the couch with her legs curled up and tucked underneath her. She almost dropped her teacup at his abrasive command.