* * *
He and Wayne exchanged hugs in the foyer that separated the living and dining rooms and slapped each other affectionately on the back, appraising each other with approval, before Wayne took one of Adam’s bags, and they climbed the wide staircase to Adam’s room.
“What do you know about the new manager you hired for Leather and Hides? I’m sure you investigated his references. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s competent...but, well, can we trust him?”
Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “He came with excellent references, but if you’re suspicious...” He let the thought hang. Wayne’s question raised a possibility that he hadn’t considered. He went to find his mother, to let her know he’d come home.
* * *
With several hours remaining before dinner, Adam decided to visit Bill Henry, his mother’s youngest brother. He figured he’d be seeing a lot of his uncle. If any man had come to terms with life, B-H was that man. And with a stressful two months ahead of him, he was going to need the relief that B-H’s company always provided. He entered the modestly constructed, white clapboard house without knocking. When B-H was at home, the door was always unlocked, and in summer the house was open except for the screen doors. It amused him that his wealthy uncle chose to eschew the manifestations of wealth, while his neglected investments made him richer by the minute.
“Why’re you home in midsummer, Adam? You usually manage to avoid this heat.” Not only did Bill Henry take his time speaking, Adam noted—his uncle, though still a relatively young man, did everything at a slow pace.
“Wayne asked me to come home. I expect you’ve heard about the near fiasco at Leather and Hides. I hope it was a simple error, but I’m beginning to suspect that someone wants to sink Hayes/Roundtree Enterprises. We don’t know who’s masterminding it, or even if that’s the case, but one of our employees had a hand in it. It couldn’t have happened otherwise.”
Bill Henry rocked himself in the contour rocker that he’d had designed to fit his six-foot four-inch frame. “What kind of mix-up was it?”
Adam related the details. “That’s burned-up money, B-H.” He wiped the perspiration from his brow. If Bill Henry chose to live close to nature, he could at least have something handy with which his guests could fan. The man must have sensed Adam’s discomfort, for he passed an old almanac to his nephew, and Adam made good use of it.
“Any new men on the job?” When Adam shook his head and then looked hard at him, as though less certain than he had been, B-H probed.
“Anybody mad at you?”
Adam shrugged. “I’ve thought of both possibilities, and I’ve got some ideas. But I can’t act until I’m positive. In the meantime I’ll install a variety of security measures. If you have any thoughts on it, give me a call.”
Adam took his time walking the half mile back home in the ninety-six-degree heat. A new man was on the job, but what did that prove? He had no reason to suspect Calvin Nelson. The man was too experienced to have permitted such a blunder, so he couldn’t have known about it. If it was deliberate... But why would he want to do such a thing? Unless... Adam didn’t want to believe that Melissa would engineer the destruction of his family’s company, that she would participate in industrial sabotage, producing the perfect candidate for the job. One who could destroy his family’s livelihood. No, he didn’t believe it. But she was a Grant, and there had never been such a mishap at Leather and Hides in the plant’s sixty-five years. Not until Calvin Nelson became its manager. It was a complication that he’d prefer not to have and an idea that he couldn’t accept.
* * *
He didn’t want to think about Melissa, but he couldn’t get her out of his head, because something in him had latched on to her and refused to let go. He’d taken a chance in letting her think their relationship was over. If she knew him better, she’d know that he finished what he started, and that she was unfinished business. He meant to have her, and leaving her for two months only made it more difficult. Melissa was special, and she appealed to him on many levels. He liked her wit, the way her mind worked, her composure, the laid-back sexy way she glided about. And he liked her company. He was tired of games, sick of hollow seductions, disgusted with chasing women he’d already caught just because good taste demanded it. It was always the same. A woman allowed him to chase her until she decided enough time had elapsed or he’d spent enough money, and then she let herself be caught. He never promised anything, but she’d go to bed and then she chased him. He was sick of it. Done with it. Melissa didn’t engage in such shenanigans, at least not with him, and that was part of her attraction. He wondered if she’d miss him.
* * *
A phone call from her father was reason for apprehension, though Melissa had learned not to display her real feelings when his treatment of her lacked the compassion that a daughter had a right to expect of her father. But when her father called her office and began his conversation with a reminder of her duties to her family, she knew he was about to make one of his unreasonable demands. She geared herself for the worst, and it was soon forthcoming.
“Melissa, you’ve been ignoring your mother,” he began, omitting the greeting. “I’m taking her to the hospital so the doctors can run some more tests. They can’t find anything wrong with her, but anybody can see she’s not well. Your mother’s getting weaker every day, and I want you to come home.” She didn’t want to argue with him. She had talked with her mother for a half hour the day before, and Emily Grant hadn’t alluded to any illness, though she had said that she got tired of taking test after test just to please her husband. But Melissa knew that her father’s views about his wife’s health would be the basis on which he acted, not the opinions of a doctor.
A strange thought flitted through her mind. She had never heard her father call her mother by her given name. Did he know it? It was my wife, your mother, she, her, and you. She didn’t want to go back to that depressing environment. It wasn’t a home, but a place where trapped people coexisted. Her brother had found relief from it by taking a job in Kenya.
“Father, I have responsibilities here.” She’d told him that many times, but he denied it as many times as he heard it.
“And I’ve told you that if you come home, I’ll support you.” She didn’t want that and wouldn’t accept it, but if her mother needed her, she couldn’t ignore that. Annoyance flared when he added, “And I need a hostess and someone to accompany me on special occasions. Your mother isn’t up to it, or so she says. She isn’t up to anything.”
She terminated the conversation as quickly as she could. “I’ll call you in a day or two, Father, and let you know what I can do.” Why hadn’t she told him no? That he could hire someone to help with her mother. Wasn’t she ever going to stand up to her father, stop begging for his approval? She closed her office door, kicked off her shoes, and began analysis of her financial situation to determine the effect of a move to Frederick, Maryland. Her father was insensitive in some ways, but she’d never known him to lie. Maybe her mother didn’t want to worry her by admitting that she was ill. She thought for a while. Yes, that would be consistent with her mother’s personality. Three hours later she walked down the corridor and knocked on the door of two lawyers who’d just begun their practice. If they agreed to her proposal, she’d move her business to Frederick. Later that afternoon she telephoned Burke’s Moving Managers and set a date.
* * *
Melissa entered her apartment that evening and looked around at the miscellaneous artifacts that had eased her life and given her pleasure for the five years she’d lived there. She loved her home, but she could make another one, she rationalized, fighting the tears. Ilona’s phone call saved her a case of melancholy.
“Melissa, darling, come down for a coffee. I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“You saw me yesterday when I was hailing a taxi. Give me a minute to change.”
Ilona hadn’t indicated that she had a guest, and Melissa winced when she saw the deb
onair man. A boutonniere was all he needed to complete the picture of a Hungarian count. Melissa had dressed suitably for one packing to leave town with all of her belongings, but not for the company of an old-world gentleman. At times she could throttle Ilona.
“You and Tibor remember each other, don’t you?” Ilona asked with an air of innocence that belied her matchmaking, as she placed three glasses of hot espresso and a silver dish of chocolates on the coffee table. They nodded. Melissa suppressed a laugh. She was glad he didn’t click his heels, though he did bow and kiss the hand that she’d been tempted to hide behind her. After a half hour of such dullness that not even Ilona’s considerable assets as a hostess could enliven, Tibor bowed, kissed Melissa’s hand once more, and left. Ilona turned to Melissa.
“He is crushed, darling. He has been begging me to invite you down when he is here, so last night I promised him that if he came over this evening, I would ask you, too. I couldn’t warn you to wear something feminine, because then you’d give me an excuse not to come down. But Melissa, darling, you could have showed him a little interest.” At the quirk of Melissa’s eyebrow, Ilona added, “Just for fun, darling. A real woman is never above a little harmless flirtation.” The more Ilona talked, the stronger her accent became.
“Ilona, you spend too much time thinking about men. I’ve—”
Ilona interrupted her, clearly aghast at such blasphemy. “Melissa, darling, that’s not possible. Ah...wait a minute. What happened with that man?”
“Nothing happened. He built a fire, and he’s going away for a couple of months. Before you ask, the fire is still raging.”
Melissa looked with amusement at Ilona’s open-mouthed astonishment. “You mean he didn’t take you to bed? What kind of man is this?” Both shoulders tightened in a shrug, and her palms spread outward as if acknowledging the incredulous.
“He’s your kind of man, Ilona, believe me.” She grinned as Ilona shrugged again, this time in disbelief. “Anyway, that’s irrelevant now. I’m moving back to Frederick.”
“You couldn’t be serious, darling. The town doesn’t even have a ballet company—you told me so yourself. Who could live in such a place?” Ilona would have been a wonderful actress, Melissa decided, grinning broadly, as she took in her friend’s mercurial facial expressions and impassioned gesticulations. And all because a town of forty thousand inhabitants didn’t have a resident ballet company.
“I’ve decided to try it for two years.” She had to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. Ilona would pick it up in seconds and start punching holes in the idea. “My mother isn’t well,” she went on, “and... Look, I’ve made the arrangements, and if you hadn’t called, I’d be packing right now.” Melissa watched Ilona’s eyes widen.
“Really? Well, darling, you know I don’t do anything laborious, but I’ll help you pack. This is terrible. I hate to see you go but...” She paused, and a brilliant smile lit her face. “Maybe you will find there the man for you.”
Melissa couldn’t restrain the laughter. Was there a scenario into which Ilona couldn’t inject romance? “Thanks for the offer, but my biggest problem is finding a tenant. I’ll pack my personal things, but the movers will pack everything else.”
“You’re not selling your apartment?”
Melissa wondered at her keen interest. “No. I’m going to rent it unfurnished for two years. If I find life in Frederick intolerable, I’ll move back here.”
Ilona beamed. “I have a friend who would take your apartment for two years. That would suit us both, darling. Your place would be in good hands, and I’d be assured of seeing him every night, even if New York got two feet of snow. Shall I tell him?”
Melissa couldn’t contain the peals of laughter that erupted from her throat at the gleam in Ilona’s green eyes. “Sure thing,” she told Ilona when she recovered. “Tell him to call my office tomorrow morning.”
* * *
Two weeks later Melissa sat on a bench facing Courthouse Square in Frederick, exhausted. It hadn’t occurred to her that finding an office in her hometown would be so difficult. In the short time since she’d made her decision, she’d arranged to share her secretary with the lawyers who had offices down the hall from her own in New York, made similar arrangements in Washington, D.C., and Baltimore, and shifted her business headquarters to Frederick. With fax, email, telephones, and the use of electronic bulletin boards, she had expanded her business while cutting her expenses in half. But coming back home also had its darker side. She hated that the bed she slept in was the one she’d used as a child, and her father, satisfied that he had her once more under control, ignored her most of the time.
Melissa’s mother had remembered her daughter’s love of pink roses and had placed a vase of them in her room. A bowl of lavender potpourri perfumed Melissa’s bathroom, and the scent teased her nostrils when she opened the doors of her closet. Emily Grant had greeted her daughter with a warm embrace.
“Welcome home, dear. I knew he’d keep after you till you gave in.” Melissa returned the fierce hug, though she thought it out of character for her usually undemonstrative mother.
“I’m not sure you’ve done the right thing, coming back,” Emily continued, “but I’m glad to see you. I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too, Mother, and I hope we’ll get to know each other again. It’s been a long time since I lived at home.”
“Over ten years. I know you’ll be busy, but you come see me whenever you have time.” Thereafter Melissa saw little of her mother, who, she recalled, preferred the solitude of her room and who, she’d decided, looked the picture of health.
She unfolded The Maryland Journal, checked the real estate ads, and walked four blocks to investigate the one office that might suit her needs. With its attractive lobby and wide hallway, the redbrick, five-story building enticed her as she entered it. The office suite that she liked had high ceilings, large windows, parquet floors, and a comfortable adjoining office for her secretary. Her excitement at finding exactly what she needed ebbed when she learned that the building was owned by the Hayes-Roundtree family. Unfortunately, if she wanted prime space, she’d have to take it.
She didn’t mind renting from Adam’s family, although she knew her father would explode. How could he harbor such intense hatred? It wasn’t even his war. He hadn’t known about the feud until he met her mother, but he’d since used it to justify every disappointment, every failure he’d had. She had to shake her guilt for having thought it, but she rented the office nevertheless. For the sake of peace, she had sacrificed her feeling for Adam and come home, but there were limits.
Raised eyebrows greeted her when she introduced herself to her office neighbors: a Grant renting from the Roundtrees. She’d almost forgotten about small town gossip. One friendly woman who introduced herself as Banks told her, “I see you’ve emancipated yourself. Good thing, too—when hell breaks loose, everybody will sympathize with the good guys.” Melissa grimaced. She didn’t need an explanation as to who the good guys were.
* * *
Melissa didn’t have long to wait for an indication of the problems that her move into that building would cause. Her cousin Timothy stood at the corner light as she left the building, and she smiled as she walked toward him.
“Hi,” he greeted her. “I heard you’d come back home, but what the hell were you doing in there? That’s the Hayes Building.” Cold tension gripped her as she noted his angry frown.
“Where else can you find decent office space in this town?” Her attempt to dismiss it as irrelevant didn’t please him.
“You’ve been gone a while, but the rest of us have been right here watching them flaunt their money. Find some other place. Why do you need an office anyway? Uncle Rafer said you were coming home to be with Aunt Emily.”
“Long story,” she said, unwilling to explain what she considered wasn’t his business and waved him goodbye.
He yelled back at her. “Get out of that place. You’re just going to start
trouble.” I seem already to have done that, she thought, her steps slow and heavy.
* * *
Melissa worked late the next evening, arranging the furniture, books, and fixtures that had arrived that morning from New York. That done, she decided to acquaint herself with one of her new computer programs, but she had just begun when the screen went blank, the lights in her office flickered, and darkness engulfed her. She didn’t have a flashlight and hadn’t bothered to locate the stairs, and a glance at her fourth-floor window told her that the moon provided the only relief from darkness. She didn’t get a tone when she lifted the telephone receiver, so she prepared herself mentally to spend the night there and tried to remember where she’d put her bag of Snickers.
“If you don’t have a lantern or flashlight, go into the hallway and stand right in front of your door. I’ll be along shortly with light.”
She looked toward the loudspeaker as tremors shot through her, and she struggled to still the furious pounding of her heart at the sound of Adam’s voice. She hadn’t known that he had come home to Beaver Ridge, only that he’d left New York. It had to be Adam. She couldn’t mistake anyone’s voice for his—no other sounded like it. Did he know she was there? Would he be glad to see her? She opened the door and waited.
The air conditioning was off, but goose bumps covered her bare arms, and chills streaked through her as the lights approached. He stopped a few feet away.
Against All Odds (Arabesque) Page 8
