Against All Odds (Arabesque)

by Gwynne Forster

* * *

  Bill Henry’s visit around six o’clock surprised him. His uncle used that time to prepare his healthful meals, which he ate without fail at six thirty. “Noticed Wayne’s short piece in The Maryland Journal. I see you still got problems at the plant. What do you make of it?”

  “Inside job, but I think it’s someone in cahoots with the Grants. Problem is who and why.”

  “Did it start before or after your began this thing with Melissa?”

  “You’re saying I started something with Melissa?”

  “Yeah. And you’re knee deep in it. Son, I hope you’re not following in my footsteps. But then I don’t suppose you will. I doubt that even the Grants and your mother could bring you to your knees, and they’re masters at it.”

  Adam rubbed the back of his neck, remembering that Melissa had twice suggested he speak to B-H about their families’ feud. He stared at his uncle.

  “You want to explain that?”

  “I thought you knew.” He related to Adam the tale of his ill-fated engagement to Melissa’s mother.

  Horrified, Adam braced his hands at his hips and whistled. “That explains plenty.” Emily’s behavior toward him. Rafer’s hatred of him and his family. B-H himself, his bachelorhood and reclusive behavior. He walked with his uncle to the family room, opened the bar and poured a ginger ale for B-H and a shot of bourbon for himself.

  Adam looked at the man who had played such an important role in his youthful development and for whom he cared deeply though he hadn’t wanted to imitate him. Less so now.

  “Emily volunteers at The Refuge four hours a day, Monday through Friday, and when Rafer finds out—”

  B-H interrupted him, his face hard with incredulity. “Don’t tempt me, Adam. She’s still wearing Rafer Grant’s ring on the third finger of her left hand.”

  Adam set his drink aside, gazed at his uncle, and then shook his head. His words bore a soft, funereal quality. “After all these years? Three decades?”

  He went back to his room to sort out his thoughts. He ought to call Melissa and cancel their date, but he couldn’t disappoint her. And he admitted that he needed to see her. His mother’s footsteps in the hallway forced him into action, and he quickly left his room, greeting her in passing before loping down the stairs. He knew she’d read Wayne’s article and had primed herself to speak to him about Melissa and her family. He barely heard the rain pummeling the roof of his car as he steered it against the windy gusts. Bill Henry still loved Emily Morris after thirty years. Could what he felt for Melissa become so powerful? And would it do to him what loving a woman had done to his uncle? Would it drive him into himself?

  * * *

  Melissa finished dressing in a black velvet pants suit just as the doorbell announced Adam’s arrival. Breathless with anticipation, she swung open the door, but her smile quickly disappeared and her face lost some of its glow.

  “Hi.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to this no-nonsense, harsh, and businesslike Adam, the one she hadn’t seen since before they’d first made love. Scanning his face, she greeted him with a careful smile, the kind she’d give a client.

  “Hello, Adam. Won’t you come in.”

  Adam followed her into the living room, declined her offer of a seat, and ambled with deliberateness from one end of the room to the other, his overcoat open and his hands stuffed in his pants pocket. She sat in a comfortable chair, perplexed at his pacing, but certain that it allowed him either to rein in his temper or to deal with his feelings for her.

  She opened her mouth, aghast, when he stopped before her and asked in a voice devoid of emotion, “Why did you make love with me that first time? A twenty-eight-year-old virgin doesn’t do that without solid reason. Why?” Stunned at the bluntness with which he’d asked that intimate question, and for the second time, too, and annoyed with herself for having spent the afternoon longing and waiting to see him, she replied in like manner.

  “You’re Wall Street’s boy wonder. If you can’t figure it out yourself, my explanation wouldn’t mean anything to you, either.”

  He pulled her up from the chair and into his arms. “You tell me. I want to hear it from your lips.”

  She couldn’t bear having his arms around her in that impersonal way—she wanted more of his warmth, the gentle caring of which she knew him capable, but she was damned if she’d show it.

  “Tell me,” he urged, his tone dispassionate.

  “If you just came here to get your ego stroked, I’m sorry to disappoint you. Mine’s been out of sorts since the last time I saw you. So nothing doing.”

  “What do you mean?” She knew he’d remember that when they’d last been together, they’d spend the night at his lodge, she on the sofa and he on the floor nearby. He’d reached up and held her left hand in his right one until they’d fallen asleep. She’d wanted to sleep in his arms, but he’d said they needed to wait until he resolved some undisclosed problems before becoming more deeply involved, that they already risked more that he thought wise.

  “I think you know the answer, and I also think we shouldn’t see each other anymore until all of the problems you mentioned are cleared up. If ever they are.” She had to look away from the lights twinkling in his eyes, challenging her to give in to him, to tell him what he demanded to know. “I want you to leave, Adam.”

  “This is another first. You’re the first—and only—woman to give me her feminine truth and the first woman or man with the nerve, or perhaps I should say the chutzpa, to invite me to leave anyplace whatever.” She twisted out of his arms and turned toward the foyer as though expecting him to follow, but his hand heavy on her shoulder detained her.

  “You don’t think I’m leaving here before you answer my question, do you?”

  Her nose lifted upward. “What was your question?”

  He grasped her shoulders, drew her to him, and looked into her eyes. “If you won’t say it, I’ll tell you, and I dare you to deny it. You gave yourself to me because I’m the only man you’ve ever wanted. Ever loved. Deny it, and you lie. Unless of course you want me to believe you used yourself as a decoy while your relatives trashed my leather factory.”

  She gasped, appalled. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing!”

  “I didn’t. I gave you the choice.”

  “I don’t care what you believe,” she bluffed.

  He pulled her closer. “Oh, but you do. You care, alright.” She thought his demeanor softened. He’d never before made a deliberate effort to seduce her. When they’d made love, he had led her, but only where she indicated she wanted to go. She knew he meant to push her over the edge, but she didn’t intend to accommodate him.

  “Which is it?” he murmured. “Tell me.”

  Loving him as she did, she cared what he thought of her and how he felt about her, so she threw caution aside though she knew she’d regret it. “You know I didn’t throw myself at you. How could you think I’d make love with you because of some feud?” His heated gaze toyed with her.

  “Adam, what do you want? Please!”

  “If what you say is true, you did it because you love me. Which is it? Tell me,” he persisted, never taking his eyes from hers, his breath harsh and uneven.

  “Yes. Yes, I love you. Yes. Yes.” He wrapped her to him, kissed her tears and hugged her until she hurt. Her whimpers must have alerted him to his use of strength, because he loosened his hold and soothed her with gentle strokes over her back and down her arms.

  He wanted to tell her that he felt as if her words would cause his heart to burst, but he couldn’t bring himself to divulge the two episodes in his life that she might not forgive, and worse still, there remained the slim chance that he’d have to prosecute her.

  “Alright.” He walked them over the couch, sat down, and patted his lap, inviting her to sit there. “My questions may make you angry, but I have to ask them.” He hugged her to him and blurted, “Tell me what you know about Timothy’s gunshot wounds.” He’d expected her to
attempt to get up, and he restrained her, nibbling on her ear to soften the gesture.

  “You’re wasting your time and mine,” she threw at him, bitterness lacing her voice. “I haven’t seen Timmy since that happened. We’re not friends, Adam. He thought I could find a cushy job for him, though I suspect that was Daddy’s idea. I referred him to a bus company in Hagerstown, but he hasn’t reported back to me on it. Anything else?”

  “Bear with me in this, please.”

  “Why should I? You got the confession from me that you wanted, and of course it didn’t occur to you that I also need reassurance about your feelings for me. I want you to leave.” He put his arms around her and held her close, needing her with every atom of his being, needing to make love with her, to make certain that she belonged to him. But he’d lost the moment. Her pride wouldn’t let her allow him that intimacy, and he didn’t want to see her without her elegant sense of self.

  “Are you going?” she asked, though her voice didn’t convince him of her sincerity.

  He caressed her arms, inhaled her woman’s scent, and let his gaze roam over the warm, feminine body that reclined in his arms. Shudders plowed through him, and in a voice hoarse with desire, he said, “I care. Dammit, you know I care. Why do you think I don’t stay away from you? It isn’t because I’m a masochist, though I’m beginning to wonder about that.” He felt her relax against him, and sensed a giving of her trust.

  “Melissa, I asked you about Timmy, because you know your father accused me of wounding him. But did you know that I haven’t been officially charged with it, and I can’t find out whether anyone has been formally accused? Did it actually happen?”

  She nodded. “Mama says it did.” He had to ask her about Leather and Hides, but considering how she reacted to the question about Timothy, he didn’t care to risk it.

  “Adam, tell me what’s going on at Leather and Hides.” His astonishment must have been mirrored in his face, because she explained that B-H had mentioned it to her. “Hadn’t you planned to tell me about it?”

  He stood but resisted the urge to pace. “I tried several times, but I couldn’t represent it to you as it really is, because I didn’t want to hurt you.” He saw her back stiffen, and it occurred to him that he ought to be grateful for Melissa’s even temper.

  “What’s it got to do with hurting me? I don’t have anything to do with it.”

  Adam considered his words carefully. “There are some who think your family may be involved, though I’m certain that the culprit has help from at least one of our employees.”

  She leaned forward, squinting, and he could almost see her mental wheels spring into action. “Do you believe I’d knowingly hurt you?”

  “I don’t want to believe it.” He watched her rise from the sofa as a woodland sprite would drift up from a spring, though her vacant eyes belied serenity.

  “But you do?”

  He couldn’t lie. He considered her guilt in the sabotage unlikely, but he hadn’t exonerated her, either. “I’m a cautious man, Melissa, and I—”

  She interrupted him, walking out of the living room as she did so. “I’m going to the kitchen, and I want you to be out of my house when I get back here.”

  Her words stabbed him. He’d hurt her, and for once he knew that special kind of pain, a deep agony that only one woman could relieve. He walked into the hallway and looked toward the kitchen. He couldn’t see her, turned in that direction, and stopped. Until he cleared up the mess at that factory, what could he say to her? He had no choice but to do as she’d asked.

  * * *

  Melissa wouldn’t have believed she’d allowed herself to be duped a second time. He’d numbed her senses, coaxed her into submission with tenderness and with his blazing heat, and she’d spilled her longing, told him her heart’s secret. Lost herself in him. He’d said he cared, but he’d confessed it grudgingly, and minutes later he had implicated her family and all but accused her of aiding the ruination of his business. If any member of her family had a hand in it, she’d find out.

  * * *

  Adam sat at the desk in his bedroom, planning his strategy to trap the culprits, when he received a call from his private investigator.

  “I’m certain it was Melissa Grant,” the man insisted, when Adam suggested that he might be mistaken. “I saw her here at the factory about an hour ago, but she only looked around outside the gate and left. I waited for any follow-up before calling you.”

  “Thanks. Stay there, and if she comes back, call me.” He didn’t welcome that news. He had discarded the idea that she might be involved—now he had to rethink his strategy. Had she intended to meet someone? If not, what had she sought? He called his manager.

  “I secured the gates myself, Adam, but someone gained entrance, and that person must have had a key. I can’t even guess who it might have been. This time the damage involved finished shoe leathers. The criminal has realized that it is more damaging to attack after we’ve spent the money and time tanning the leathers. Damned if I know what to make of it.” Adam thanked him and hung up. He wouldn’t call local authorities. Why waste the energy? Rafer had the deputy chief of police or deputy sheriff, as he preferred to be called, in his pocket. He’d deal with it tomorrow.

  He got to his office around nine o’clock the next morning and called the Physicians’ Registry. A young doctor named Grant practiced in Hagerstown. On a hunch, he called the office, and without hesitating the unsuspecting young receptionist gave him the information he cleverly wrested from her. He taped their conversation.

  Next he headed for The Refuge, where he knew he’d find Emily, engaged her in casual conversation, and satisfied himself that she had no part in the crimes at his factory.

  He’d begun to like Emily Grant. “Are you sure you’re up to this work? It’s mentally as well as physical demanding.”

  Her smile reminded him of Melissa when she teased him. “I love it. And I’m not frail, Adam. That’s what I’ve been led to believe for over thirty years. Not a bit of it’s true. I’m strong.”

  He squeezed her shoulder in a gesture of affection. “I’m glad you’ve joined us. I like your spirit. Have you discussed this with Rafer yet?”

  She hadn’t, she told him without any apparent regret, and asked him to let it be.

  “What about Melissa?”

  She shook her head. “This is my own. I’ll share it when the time comes. When I have to.” He patted her shoulder and headed back to the Jacob Hayes Building. Emily Grant could grow on a person. He could appreciate his uncle’s passion for her: a lovely, giving woman. She must have been captivating in her youth, for she remained a beauty, and she could charm a mouse away from its cheese.

  * * *

  Adam called his New York office. He’d have to get back there soon, but he couldn’t leave Frederick so long as his relationship with Melissa hung in limbo, and to straighten it out, he’d first have to unravel the mystery at Leather and Hides. A short conversation with Jason Court assured him that, for the time being, he needn’t worry about his New York office. He had two detectives working in the plant and had hired a private investigator, but the criminal who wrought destruction in the factory seemingly at will remained undetected.

  Impatient with their lack of progress, Adam dressed in jeans, a sweater, leather jacket, and sneakers after dinner that evening, and to avoid the noise and headlights of his car, rode his bicycle to the factory. The moon had shone brightly all week, and he considered himself fortunate that it settled behind the clouds as he left home, affording him the cover he needed. He secured the bike and leaned well hidden against a large oak tree. A red Corvette appeared, and its driver parked and waited. Very soon, another car arrived. Apprehension gripped him as the door of the familiar car opened, and stark, naked pain raced through him when he saw Melissa get out of the car and walk around to the driver’s side of the Corvette. He watched, motionless, as she stood there and talked with the driver for at least ten minutes, before the Corvette drove off
and left her standing there alone in the darkness. Minutes later she, too, drove away.

  As if he shouldered the weights of Atlas, Adam moved with slow steps toward his bicycle, numbed with pain. He mounted the bike just when a third car arrived. The intrigue heightened as the driver cut the motor, turned off the lights, and waited for thirty minutes before driving. Whoever it was didn’t get out of the car. Crossed wires, Adam decided. Melissa would answer to him for her part in the scheme.

  Chapter 11

  Melissa sat in her office the next morning, tortured by what she’d discovered and bleary-eyed from the sleepless night it had caused her. She hadn’t answered her phone nor the loud knocks on her door the night before for fear of reprisal or that she might get into a hassle with her father. Her head lolled against the back of her chair, and she tried to concentrate in spite of the intruding noise. She hadn’t realized that it was she who kept up the consistent, rhythmic rapping until she noticed the wooden letter opener waving up and down in her hand. She laid it aside and attempted to make notes for her regular morning calls to her satellite offices in Baltimore and New York. But no sooner had she begun to gather her thoughts than Adam burst unannounced through the door, and she’d never seen a colder, more furious and feral expression on a human face.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked before he could speak.

  “You ask me what’s the matter?” he growled. She couldn’t imagine what her facial expression had imparted to him, because his anger evaporated, and a sad, bitter expression cloaked his handsome face.

  “You want to know what the matter is? I’ll tell you.” He spoke slowly and with deadly softness as though killing his feelings, shredding his emotions. “Have you known all this time who was ruining my business, trashing my factory? Why didn’t you tell me, Melissa? Don’t you feel that you owe me any allegiance?”

  “You’re out of your mind,” she protested, trying to figure out why he seemed so certain.

  He leaned over her desk, his face inches from hers. “I was, but not anymore. Just two nights ago you swore innocence, and you curled up in my arms and told me you loved me. You defended me against the charge that I shot your cousin. Was that a screen?”