“Actually,” he went on, “I don’t mind being a publishing executive. I’m just not sure I want to continue as a publishing executive at Pierce & Rothchilde.”
“Because of your family?”
“No.” He smiled at her, moving away from the window. “Because they don’t do technothrillers.”
She didn’t get it.
Byron laughed. “I’ll have to introduce you to Henry—I should now say Hank—Murrow one of these days. All I’m saying is that Pierce & Rothchilde has a tendency to believe its own press, always a dangerous thing. They take themselves too seriously. They need to loosen up. It’s like your place here. Gates has found a nice balance between quality with a capital Q and keeping its feet planted firmly on the ground. P & R too often focuses narrowly on quality—which becomes elitist. A technothriller, for instance, can have quality.”
“With a capital Q?”
“Absolutely.” He was warming to his argument now. “Why does Gates carry cotton dusters?”
Nora answered without hesitation. “Because our customers—some of our customers, particularly the elderly women—want and need them.”
“And they’re good quality, sturdy cotton dusters.”
“Sure.”
“But they’re still cotton dusters. There, you see? I rest my case.”
Nora thought she knew what he meant, but Byron Forrester, Harvard M.B.A. or not, did have a unique perspective on business.
“Now,” he said, “lunch?”
“I still can’t.”
“A stubborn woman you are, Eleanora Gates the Younger.” He planted his palms on the front edge of her desk and leaned over until his face was mere inches from hers. “Thinking what it’d be like for us to make love on your blotter, aren’t you?”
The thought had occurred to her. “Byron…”
“We will.” His voice was husky, his eyes liquid and midnight-black. “Some night after the place’s closed up we’ll come in here, lock the door and make love until dawn.”
Then he was gone, and it was several minutes before she could breathe again.
That evening, she came home to a quiet, if not orderly, house. Byron had been cooking. In addition to a sink full of pots and pans, he’d left a note.
I made curried pumpkin soup. It’s in the fridge. It’s horrid stuff, but don’t blame me. I got the recipe from one of your healthy cookbooks. I’m off to the lodge for dinner. See you tonight.
B.
He hadn’t exaggerated about the soup. It was truly dreadful. The recipe, however, wasn’t the culprit; he’d used homemade puree that he’d cooked insufficiently and, worse, had neglected to drain. The soup was lumpy and stringy, and she found a seed. He’d also put together a salad, however, that was wonderful.
By seven, she was off to a closed meeting of the Tyler town council. As usual, it began with an animated discussion of the latest victories of the high school football team and its chances for a title, then moved on to what was happening with the Body at the Lake, hopes for doing something about the deteriorated condition of the public library, and—the only real business at hand—the problems in the police department. Nora did her best to concentrate.
“Belton’s giving up its police department,” Johnny Kelsey was saying; Belton was a nearby town, also in Sugar Creek County. “They’ve gone to just having a sheriff’s substation. It’s saved them a ton of money.”
Alyssa Baron, who seemed even more distracted than Nora, frowned, her hands twisting together in her lap. Talk of the mysterious body discovered on her father’s land had upset her more than usual. Ordinarily she was sharp-minded, acutely interested in the affairs of her town. “I don’t know if I like the idea of having to rely on the county for all our police protection. Tyler has always been independent. Nora, what do you think?”
At the moment, Nora was working up enough interest to give a damn. Just a week ago nothing had compelled her more than every little going-on in Tyler, Wisconsin. “I don’t know as we have much choice.”
“With Paul retiring,” Johnny said, “the timing couldn’t be better.”
Paul Schmidt was Tyler’s longtime police chief. Nora nodded, but she had her reservations. “Has anyone talked to Brick?”
Alyssa winced. Johnny sighed. Sometimes it wasn’t easy being on the town council. Tough decisions had to be made. Good people got hurt. Likely enough, Brick Bauer would be one of them. He was the obvious choice to replace Paul Schmidt as Tyler police chief. If Tyler went to a sheriff’s substation, Brick would suddenly be working for the county, not the town.
“He’s a good man,” Alyssa said.
Johnny nodded. “Nobody wants to see Brick get the shaft, but he knows it’s not personal.”
“Becoming a county employee,” Alyssa added thoughtfully, “could actually help his career, I suppose.”
But, as it was with Nora, Tyler had always been Brick’s first love. She remembered when he’d moved to town; he’d been in high school, a Robert Conrad type a couple of years younger than she. He could have gone to Milwaukee or even Chicago to advance his career, just as Nora could have, if she’d been interested in big department stores. But that wasn’t what she’d wanted. What about Brick?
“I know the needs of the town come first,” she said. “I’m sure Brick knows that, too.”
“But,” Alyssa finished, “he’s a part of this town and we need to be open, direct and sensitive.”
Johnny Kelsey sighed, but nodded in agreement. “Sometimes I wonder why I ever ran for this job. How ’bout you, Nora? You’re a born politician.” He grinned. “Except you have integrity. No skeletons hanging in your closet.”
Obviously, she thought, he hadn’t been privy to recent gossip. Feeling her cheeks burn, Nora refused to meet Alyssa Baron’s eye.
“Going to run for the state legislature one of these days?” Johnny teased.
Nora laughed. “Now when would I do that?”
“Good to see you smile, kid,” he said. “I was beginning to think you were taking this police substation thing too seriously. We’ll work it out. Brick won’t get the shaft.”
The meeting adjourned not long after, the decision on the police department problems temporarily postponed. Alyssa Baron followed Nora outside, where it was dark and downright frigid.
“Can I give you a ride home?” Alyssa asked.
“I don’t mind walking….”
“Oh, you’ll freeze. Look, my car’s right here.”
Sensing Alyssa was reluctant to be alone with herself just yet, Nora climbed into the passenger seat of her sister-councillor’s expensive car. Alyssa pulled on thin leather driving gloves. She was so different from Liza, Nora thought, that it was almost eerie.
“I know Liza didn’t notice yesterday afternoon,” Alyssa said, turning on the ignition, “but I did. Nora, I’m sorry if any of this talk about you and Byron Forrester has caused you embarrassment. Liza…it just doesn’t occur to her that a woman not much older than herself would be less than amused by such gossip.”
Nora was taken aback, but resisted her impulse to deny that anything so silly as local talk could upset her. She was tired of pretending she had no feelings. “Thank you for noticing, Alyssa. You’re right— I was embarrassed, but only at first.”
Alyssa pulled out into the dark, quiet street. “Then there’s no truth to the rumors?”
“About Byron and me? Well, no…I mean, yes, there’s truth to them.”
Alyssa Baron was silent.
“Three years ago,” Nora said, staring out her window, “Byron came to Tyler to make sure Cliff was all right. He didn’t intend to contact anyone in town—he just wanted to check on his brother and get out.”
“But he met you.”
“He told me he was a photographer. One thing led to another and I invited him to dinner. Then he met Aunt Ellie.”
Slowing for a turn, Alyssa didn’t take her eyes off the road. “The pictures.”
Nora exhaled. “For a long time I wa
s convinced he used her.”
“I can’t imagine anyone taking advantage of Ellie Gates.”
“They spent a lot of time together. And I spent a lot of time with Byron. Then he left and a few weeks later Aunt Ellie died.”
“How awful for you,” Alyssa said with genuine sympathy.
Nora looked at her. “I wasn’t thinking just of myself. For the past three years I’ve told myself I should have seen what Byron was and warned Aunt Ellie, spared her….” Shetrailed off, unable to finish.
“Spared her what, Nora?”
“Having to spend so much of her last weeks with someone who saw her as quaint, as a subject for a series of photographs that would advance his career. That’s what I’ve thought for the past three years. I’m not sure I was right.”
Alyssa almost missed her next turn and had to brake hard, at least by her standards. “Nora, you amaze me sometimes. You have a tendency to look at all the wonderful things Aunt Ellie did for you without even considering the wonderful things you did for her.”
“She never wanted marriage or children, but I came along—”
“You came along and enriched her life. She was already close to seventy when your parents died. She had the store and many, many friends, but you were her only close relative. She taught you what she knew about business. Don’t you think that gave her tremendous satisfaction and solace? And you gave her constant companionship and true devotion in her old age. You were never a burden, Nora. How many times did she tell me you kept her young? You made her keep moving—she couldn’t give up.”
“She’d never have given up.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Nora swallowed, her throat tight. “I used to think she’d live forever.”
“At one time or another I think we all thought that of Aunt Ellie,” Alyssa said, smiling wistfully. “I remember when I was a little girl— I must have been tiny because Mother was still around. She took me to Gates Department Store to buy handmade chocolate angels Aunt Ellie had special-ordered for Christmas. She was standing behind the glass counter herself and she seemed old even then.” Alyssa paused, her expression warm and nostalgic. “Not old, really. Timeless.”
They’d come to the house Aunt Ellie had had built for herself, back even before she was officially an old maid. Alyssa pulled her Mercedes alongside the curb.
“Honoring Aunt Ellie,” she said, “doesn’t mean you have to become her.”
“Thank you, Alyssa. You’ve been awfully kind, considering the stress and strain you must be under. I know I can be hard on people—”
Alyssa laughed softly. “Oh, Nora, you’re so much harder on yourself. People in this town look up to you and you try to fulfill all their expectations. But Aunt Ellie dared to be herself. Let that be an example to you.” She shifted the car into neutral, her foot on the brake. “I had dinner tonight with Byron, Cliff and Liza. Actually, Byron and Liza. Cliff didn’t stick around.”
Nora could hear the concern in her older friend’s voice, but withheld comment.
“Liza’s my first child to get married. I want her to be happy and to have a memorable wedding.” Alyssa hesitated. “And I know she believes in trial by fire. She thinks I’ve been too protective of Cliff and that he needs to jump feetfirst back into society. But a big church wedding…”
“You’re worried Cliff might have a relapse,” Nora said.
Alyssa’s nod was almost imperceptible. “He hasn’t been around people in a long, long time.”
“Do you think Byron’s being here is a help or a hindrance?”
“I don’t know.”
“And their mother—she’s arriving on Thursday.”
“Yes.” Alyssa sighed, her foot slipping off the brake; the car rolled forward. “He desperately wants to see her again.”
“But…”
“But I’m worried. Liza, the renovations, the—the discovery at the lodge. Now the wedding and Byron… It’s a lot for a man who only a few weeks ago most people in Tyler thought was a burned-out recluse beyond redemption.”
The past weeks, Nora thought, couldn’t have been easy on Alyssa Baron, either, and perhaps she was projecting some of her own anxiety onto her daughter’s fiancé. Discovery of the Body, whatever the ultimate results, had to have stirred up memories of Alyssa’s mother’s departure from Tyler when she was just a little girl. Nora had lost both her parents at a young age, but at least she’d known what happened to them. Alyssa didn’t have that small consolation. For all she knew, Margaret Ingalls could still be alive.
Or, Nora thought dismally, lying on some slab in a morgue, awaiting identification.
“I’ll talk to Byron,” she offered.
Alyssa smiled her sweet, nonjudgmental smile. She was too kind a person, Nora thought, to suffer. “Thank you.”
* * *
BYRON HAD A FIRE raging in the study. Nora could feel its warmth from the doorway. She sank against the painted doorjamb, and it occurred to her that she’d never really wanted to live alone. Until she was thirteen, she’d had her parents. Then there’d been Aunt Ellie. For a few weeks—or days, really—she’d had the promise of a life with an itinerant photographer. Only since Byron’s departure from Tyler and Aunt Ellie’s death had she lived alone. They’d been fulfilling years. She’d coped with plumbing problems and a foot of snow in her driveway and the odd bat swooping into her bedroom. But she liked coming home to a warm fire and a warm body in the house.
Spotting her, Byron smiled. “You look done in.”
“It’s been a long day, but I like to keep busy.”
She kicked off her shoes and walked across the thick carpet in her stocking feet, then hiked up her skirt a bit and sat cross-legged in front of the fire. Byron had his shoes off, too. His feet were bare, his toes almost touching the flames. He had his ankles crossed. She noticed the length of his legs, the snug fit of his jeans on the hard muscles of his thighs. He had his shirt pulled out, the bottom wrinkled where it had been tucked in. He’d pushed up his sleeves. There was something inordinately sexy, Nora thought, about the man’s forearms.
“I made a couple of long distance calls on your phone,” he said. “Seems Pierce & Rothchilde can’t get along as swimmingly without me as they believed.”
“Do you find that reassuring?”
“Not in the least.”
Leaning back on her elbows the way he was, she stretched out her legs, but because they weren’t as long as his they didn’t quite reach the fire. “Does it worry you, then?”
“Nope.” He seemed confident of his answer. “I do my job. So did the woman I replaced. If I stay, I’ll continue to do my job. If I leave, someone will take my place. It’s a mistake to believe you’re indispensable.” He shrugged. “It’s also arrogant.”
“I’ll bet your great-grandfather didn’t feel that way.”
“Good ol’ Clifton Pierce? He wasn’t nearly as married to the company as his son, my grandfather, Thorton Pierce, was. The old bastard never even retired. Died at his desk.”
“Aunt Ellie died at home,” Nora said, “but she never officially retired.”
“Big difference.”
Nora stared at the flickering flames, failing to see his logic.
“Aunt Ellie didn’t live to work, Nora. She worked to live. Gates Department Store was her life’s work and she loved it, gave it her all. But she also loved Tyler, and you. She had her friends, her hobbies. She was a whole person. That’s what my series of photographs on her was all about.”
“This,” Nora said, not too nastily, “from a man who knew her all of two weeks.”
“Two and a half weeks,” he corrected amiably.
“She never knew you’d misrepresented yourself.”
For a full minute, Byron said nothing. Nora listened to the crackling of the fire and the soft ticking of her cuckoo clock, keeping her eyes on the man stretched out beside her. Finally, he said, “Yes, she did.”
“You told her you were Cliff’s brother?”
Nora rolled over and rose up on her knees, peering into Byron’s eyes. “You do. But how would Aunt Ellie have known what Cliff’s eyes looked like?”
“She’d seen him a couple of times around town. She was a highly observant woman. She was also a tad suspicious. And she’d badgered Alyssa Baron into telling her what she knew about the weirdo living out at her father’s abandoned lodge. So I was already neck-deep before I’d even opened my mouth.”
Not certain how to react, Nora sat down again. “She never told me a thing.”
“Like the younger Eleanora Gates, the older Eleanora Gates didn’t repeat gossip or confidences.”
It wasn’t in Nora to be angry with Aunt Ellie for not having shared with her all she’d known and deduced. But Byron could have told her! She glared at him.
He got the message. “Nora, I know what you’re thinking. It was up to me to tell you the truth about myself and I didn’t, simple as that. If it’s any consolation, Aunt Ellie understood my decision to leave Tyler when I did, if not the way I did. Cliff had his demons. I had mine. You had yours. We all needed the past three years. We weren’t ready for each other.”
“And now?”
“Now,” he said, turning to her, his eyes reflecting the orange glow of the fire, “Cliff has found Liza. And I’m not letting him off the hook this time— I’m not backing off, no matter how hard it is for either or us. He’s my brother. As for you, Miss Nora…” He smiled, moving closer. “I’m very ready for you.”
It was another of his deliberate, incorrigible remarks designed to make her aware—intensely aware—of the way she’d responded to his kiss the other night, the boundless passion they’d shared three years ago. She was not unmoved.
“Is this,” she said, refusing to inch away from him even as he inched closer, “your way of distracting me from demanding reimbursement for your phone calls?”
Wisconsin Wedding (Welcome To Tyler, No. 3) Page 15
