The Passions of Chelsea Kane

by Barbara Delinsky

  Chelsea didn’t like the way he directed himself to Bob when she was the one with the money. So she said, “He could retire nicely on what he makes from a sale.”

  “I’m not retiring,” Oliver vowed.

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “If you’d done your homework, you’d know that.”

  “I know how old the company is, and that’s what I’m proposing to buy, not you.”

  “Well, I did my homework. I know how old you are, and who your family is, and where you got your money. It’s just sitting there in a big trust fund makin’ you itchy, so you decided to play with us. Well, I won’t be played with.”

  “No one’s playing,” she said somberly. Nothing to do with Norwich Notch was play material, as far as she was concerned. If Oliver had gone a step farther in his homework, he’d have learned that. Then again, he couldn’t have learned something that wasn’t documented, which was one of the very reasons Chelsea was in Norwich Notch. “If I put up my money, I want a return—and Plum Granite won’t be the first company I’ve done that for. If I made a habit of investing in losers, I’d have run through that trust fund years ago.”

  “You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree if you think granite’s a winner. Field’s just about dead since glass and steel took over.”

  Had Chelsea been in another profession, she might have believed him, but she saw construction from the inside. She knew of the plans being drawn up for buildings that the public wouldn’t see for another two years. She was in the forefront of design. “That’s where you’re wrong. We’re heading for a resurgence in traditionalism. Granite is bouncing back, and not only as an exterior building material. People want granite in kitchens and bathrooms.”

  “Pooh,” he sputtered. “That’s small stuff. No profit in that.”

  “Which shows how far off the mainstream you are,” she argued. The man was beginning to get to her. “Do you have any idea how much people are willing to pay for granite counters in their designer kitchens? Or the kind of profit that can be made selling high-quality granite to luxury hotels for use in their bathrooms? Each unit may be physically small, but it can command a premium price. Of course, you won’t see a cent of that, set up as you are now. You cut crude slabs of granite and ship them out, letting someone else cut and polish and make the profit. You may be a great quarryman, Mr. Plum, but as a businessman, you stink.”

  He flattened his forearms on his desk. “You have a sharp tongue.”

  She sat forward. “I also have a sharp mind. Between the two, I can turn this company around.”

  “In a pig’s eye,” he blustered. “It’s your money I need, not you.”

  She glared at him. “You can’t have one without the other. I’m the key to getting business.”

  He glared right back. “And I’m the key to quarrying the stone. Without a Plum in charge, nothing gets done.”

  “Looks like nothing’s been done with a Plum in charge,” she said because though Oliver Plum might have been her elder, he was too bullheaded for subtlety. “The fact is that you’d never be able to keep up with the business I bring in.”

  “Wro-ng, missy. Fact is you wouldn’t be able to bring in enough business to keep my men busy.”

  “One year,” she said, sitting back. “One year and I’ll have this business in the black.”

  He, too, sat back, but his eyes didn’t let up. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “You bet.”

  “Is that from growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth?”

  “Could be.”

  He made a face. “What kind of name is Chelsea, anyway?”

  She didn’t blink. “It’s the name my parents chose for me.”

  “Doesn’t fit up here, that name.”

  “Should I be concerned?”

  “If you want to get along here, you should.”

  “I’m not proposing getting along. I’m proposing turning this company into a profitable venture.” Convinced that Oliver Plum was one of the most unpleasant men she’d ever met, and feeling the exasperation of that conviction, she glanced at her watch. “My attorney and I have a long trip home.” She shifted her gaze to Jeremiah Whip. “Plum Granite needs money, I have money. Do we or do we not have business to discuss?”

  Six

  A partnership?” Carl repeated later that night when Chelsea told him about Jeremiah’s proposal.

  “I’m to put up the money for modernization and handle the business end,” she explained, “while he handles the production end. We’d be partners for one year. At the end of that time, whoever of us fails to live up to his end of the deal has to sell to the other.”

  Carl was wearing the T-shirt and running shorts that he’d worn at the squash club. Even having come straight from a game, he looked neat. He had a way of doing that, Chelsea mused, and attributed it to his mind. His thoughts were always in order.

  “What do you mean, ‘fails to live up to’?” he asked, ever the stickler for details.

  “I say I can provide more business than his men can handle. He says I can’t.”

  Carl looked appalled. “A bet? Whoever wins gets the business?”

  “Buys the business,” she specified. She was no fool. Cavalier though she was about her inheritance at times, she kept a close eye on her assets. She wasn’t about to throw money away, not even for Norwich Notch. “Oliver absolutely refuses to sell, but he needs the money to survive. If I can’t turn things around, he can keep his business.”

  “But if he’s broke, how will he ever be able to buy you out?”

  “He’ll go outside the state for a loan or get a third party to buy me out.” As she saw it, she could learn a lot about Norwich Notch and the circumstances of her birth in the course of a year. At the end of that time, she might be very happy to wash her hands of the place. “I won’t lose money on the deal. At one time the company was extremely profitable. You and I both know that the market for stone has revived. All Plum Granite has to do is learn to tap into it. I can help do that.”

  “When? You’re an architect. What about Harper, Kane, Koo?”

  “Harper, Kane, Koo is fine. So’s my own work. What’s a few hours a week spent on something different?”

  “A few hours?” His eyes grew troubled. “Chelsea, what you’re suggesting will take more than a few hours. You’ll be the business end of a growing venture. Companies have full-time staff for that.”

  She didn’t see any problem. Plum Granite was small, as companies went. What she had in mind involved phone calls mostly. “You said things were going so well here that I had time for a husband and baby. What’s the difference?”

  “What’s the difference? The difference is that a husband and kids are personal. They’re the ones who give you gifts on your birthday and Christmas and Mother’s Day. They’re the ones who take pride in your work and make you proud of theirs. They’re the ones who love you, for God’s sake. How can a granite company compare to that?”

  Chelsea felt a wave of helplessness. Everything he said made sense—Carl always made sense—still, there was the part of her that wouldn’t listen, the part that was desperate to accept Oliver Plum’s offer.

  “Oh, Carl,” she breathed, “it can’t compare. Not in the sense that you mean. Norwich Notch is a challenge. It’s something that means a lot to me, but it’s not the forever kind of thing like you’re talking about.”

  He turned from her and went to edge of the room. With one foot on the foyer steps and a hand on the column there, he said, “Maybe that forever kind of thing is an illusion.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it doesn’t happen the way it should. You spend half your life with someone and assume you’ll spend the rest, but it doesn’t necessarily happen. Life isn’t simple, and it isn’t always honest. Maybe the visions of hugs and kisses and birthday gifts are just ways of making us feel less alone until something else comes along to fill our lives.”

  “Oh, Carl,�
�� she breathed again, this time for lack of anything better to say. She felt torn. Carl was near and dear, but near and dear enough? She had the vision of a romantic triangle involving Carl, herself, and Norwich Notch. At times he was dominant, at times spurned and jealous. The last thing she wanted was to see him hurt. He was her very best friend in the world.

  Coming up behind him, she said softly, “This is just something I have to do. Once it’s settled, I can move ahead.”

  “But in what direction? Who will you be when you’re done with that town?”

  “I’ll be me.” She rubbed his back in the way that he liked. “A more knowing me.”

  “While you’re becoming more knowing, what do I do?”

  “Be patient.” When he made a small sound, she came around to his front, slipped her arms around him, and brushed a kiss on his mouth. “I love you, Carl.”

  His eyes held doubt.

  “I do,” she insisted. “This business with Norwich Notch has to do with me, not us.” When he didn’t look any more convinced than he had, she locked her arms around his neck and kissed him more fully. She deepened the kiss until she felt the beginnings of a response.

  He sighed against her mouth. “You shouldn’t leave me alone.”

  “I was only gone for the day.”

  “Six in the morning to ten at night’s too long. I’m okay when you’re here.”

  Coming on the heels of Oliver Plum’s telling her to go home, his words were especially welcome. He was a good person, too good in some ways. She wasn’t sure she would ever find anyone to put up with her the way he did.

  Wanting to let him know how she felt, she touched his mouth again, but she had barely instigated the kiss when he took command. Holding her head still, he kissed her, then let his hands wander until they had touched her all over. He was familiar with her body, and she was familiar with his touch. It was right, she told herself. It was good.

  She didn’t think twice when he led her into the bedroom and undressed her. Intimacy was perfectly normal for two people who loved each other. This particular intimacy had been long overdue. Perhaps that was the trouble.

  She kept telling herself that, repeating it over and over again as he touched and kissed her—and she touched and kissed him back, telling herself that it was right and good and normal. When he entered her, she thought about how long she’d known him, how entwined their lives were, how much their parents wanted them together, how special he was. He seemed to labor. She stroked his body in all the spots that might bring on his climax, and when it came it was satisfyingly strong.

  That was the extent of her satisfaction. When he offered to bring her to orgasm, she smiled against his shoulder and shook her head. She was tired. It had been a long, emotional day. “Next time,” she told him, and closed her eyes, but sleep was a long time in coming.

  THERE WASN’T ANOTHER TIME, AND THE FIRST ONE HAUNTED Chelsea in the weeks that followed. It wasn’t her conscience; she didn’t believe they’d done anything morally wrong. Nor had there been anything physically wrong with what they’d done. It had been fine.

  That was the problem. Sex that was “fine” wasn’t exciting sex. It wasn’t the kind of thing one blushed over or grew warm remembering. It wasn’t the kind of thing one discussed in teasing tones at breakfast or the kind of thing that cemented a relationship that was dangling by threads, and it wasn’t necessarily the kind of thing one wanted to repeat.

  She didn’t know what to do. Marry Carl, said the tiny voice inside her. Kevin wanted it, Tom and Sissy Harper wanted it, Carl himself wanted it.

  But she didn’t know how she could. She didn’t love him the right way. She didn’t feel a spark when she looked at him, and though the thought of sharing a home and children with him was as “fine” as the sex had been, the thought of spending the rest of her life with him terrified her. She loved him, but he didn’t excite her. There had to be more.

  ———

  WHILE SHE AGONIZED, BOB MAHONEY WORKED WITH JEREmiah Whip, drawing up papers to formalize a partnership with Oliver Plum. As eager as Chelsea was, she wasn’t rushing blindly into any deal. Given her proposed investment of time and money, she wanted her interests protected. Until they were, she wasn’t signing her name to a thing.

  The finality of that was still several weeks off when Kevin asked her to join him for dinner. Welcoming any opportunity to warm their relationship, she readily agreed. He greeted her with a kiss and asked about her work, and it was so much like it used to be before Abby died that Chelsea’s spirits rose. Then he broke the news that he had sold the house, and she was stunned.

  “It didn’t make sense to keep it,” he pointed out. “It’s just me, now. Why do I need a big place like that?”

  Chelsea couldn’t believe that he’d sold it. She loved the house. So had Abby. “Because it’s beautiful. It’s quiet and elegant. It’s home.”

  With the same logic Carl would have used, Kevin said, “It was home when you and your mother were in it, but you’re both gone now. Now it’s just a place that costs a lot of money to keep up. I don’t even spend much time there anymore.”

  She had known that. He seemed to be forever traveling, and it had been years since she had lived there herself. Still, it was her childhood home. She couldn’t imagine strangers living there.

  “The buyer is an executive transferring here from Chicago. He has six kids and lots of money. He’ll take good care of the place.”

  That knowledge didn’t do much for Chelsea’s sense of loss, which in turn wasn’t eased by the hurt she felt. He might have warned her. He might have shared his plans. He was her father, and this had been their home.

  “I’ve been thinking of selling for a while. The offer actually came before the listing went public. We could wait three years for another one as good. By the way, the money is yours.”

  Chelsea drew back, appalled. “I don’t want it.”

  “I want you to have it,” he insisted. “The house was your mother’s.”

  “And she left it to you,” Chelsea argued, damned if she’d let him ease his guilt by buying her off, “so the money from the sale is yours. I don’t want it.”

  “Why are you angry?”

  “I’m not angry. I’m sad. I loved that house.”

  “Not enough to live in it.”

  “I’m a big girl. I can’t live with my parents.”

  “Right. And one of your parents is dead, so who’s supposed to fill up fifteen rooms? And we haven’t even started talking about Newport. Really, Chelsea.”

  She looked down at her lap and smoothed the linen napkin that lay there. It was just a house. She didn’t know why she was so upset. She went there so infrequently now.

  “I’ve decided to retire at the end of the year,” Kevin said, and for the second time in as many minutes, she was stunned.

  He chuckled. “You didn’t think I’d ever slow down? I’m sixty-eight, Chelsea. My hands aren’t as steady as they used to be. My associates have been doing most of the work for a while. I think it’s about time I be honest about that and step down. The hospital has capable people waiting in the wings.”

  She was quiet for a minute, trying to absorb the jolt. “I can’t picture you not practicing, any more than I can picture you going home to another place at night.”

  He jiggled the ice in his glass, drank the last of his Scotch, and set the glass on the table. “Time changes things. Life goes on. I’m one of the lucky ones. My health is good. I’ll do the hospital lecture circuit, go to nice places, meet nice people, relax. Maybe then I won’t miss your mother so much.”

  What about me? Chelsea wanted to ask. Won’t you miss me? But she had answered the question herself moments before. She was a big girl. She had her own life, and Kevin had his—and it agreed with him, from what she could see. He was tanned. His features weren’t as tight as they’d been during the days of Abby’s declining health.

  “I’ll miss you if you’re gone so much,” she said quietly.
r />   “You’re busy. And you have Carl.”

  She looked down at her lap again. She had debated saying anything, but the opening was too good to ignore. “I’m not sure that’s working out.”

  “Why not?” Kevin asked, and for the first time his voice had an edge. She had the sudden image of him in the operating room, neatly sewing up his future, only to find a suture that wouldn’t stay put.

  “I don’t know. It just might not work. Nothing’s definite.”

  “I thought you two were practically living together.”

  “No.” They saw each other every day and often went to dinner, but they hadn’t spent the night together since they’d made love.

  Kevin grunted. “For God’s sake, what is it now?”

  His impatience stung. That, on top of the news that he was retiring, on top of the news that he had sold the house, made Chelsea blurt out, “I don’t love Carl. Not the way I should if I’m going to marry him, and he doesn’t love me that way, either. We’ve been trying to make it work, trying to pretend that there’s more than there is, but there isn’t, and nothing you or Tom or Sissy says or wants can change that.”

  His face reddened. “Are you saying it’s our fault?”

  “No, but I know you want us together, and maybe that’s why we’ve stuck with it so long.” She let out a tired breath. “But it’s not there. It’s just not there.” More quietly, a bit facetiously, she said, “All we have to do now is admit it to each other.”

  Kevin looked away angrily.

  “Would you rather I marry for the sake of getting married?” Chelsea asked in dismay. “We’d both be miserable before long.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. You’re a good match.”

  “Not as good as you and Mom were. I want the kind of love you two had. Is that so bad?”

  His profile was hard. She had just given him what should have been a high compliment, yet he seemed not to have heard it. His mind was on a single tidy track. “It wouldn’t be so bad if you were twenty-two,” he said, “but you’re not. You’re thirty-seven. Your options are limited. Carl is one of the few good men who isn’t already married with kids.” His eyes met hers in accusation. “You know, if you had kids, you could have had the house. I think I sold it because I knew deep down in my heart that you’d never make use of it. You’re too busy doing your own thing. You always have been. And now there’s this fascination with that town in New Hampshire. If you want a house so badly, why don’t you buy one up there?”