“No, you most definitely will not.” Evangeline snatched the deck back from him and put it down on the table. “Not with my cards. Off with you, Harry. You never did have any respect for the business.”
“You’re right, I never did,” Harry agreed.
“You’ve ruined this deck,” Evangeline grumbled as she fingered the cards. “Now I’ll have to reorganize it.”
Molly studied the deck. “Does that mean that the blue king is no longer on top?”
“Right,” Harry said. “I shuffled it the old-fashioned way. If the blue king is on top this time, it’s due to pure chance, and the odds are staggeringly against it.” He reached down and flipped over the top card to demonstrate.
It was another king, but this one was not blue. It was red.
“Hell,” Harry said very softly. The laconic amusement disappeared from his eyes as he looked at the colorful card.
“Oh, dear,” Evangeline whispered. She stared at the red king, her attention riveted.
Molly frowned. “What’s wrong? It’s not the blue king. It’s another card altogether.”
“Yes, it is.” Harry did not take his eyes off the king.
“What’s the big deal about the red king?” Molly asked.
“Just a fluke,” Harry said quietly.
Evangeline shook her head slowly. “There are no flukes when you deal the cards.”
“All right, just for the sake of argument, let’s assume that my love life may be about to improve,” Molly said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “Why so glum?”
Evangeline sighed. “This is not the blue king. It’s the red king. It has nothing to do with your love life, Molly. When it’s the first card in the deck it indicates something else entirely.”
“What?” Molly was exasperated.
“Danger.” Evangeline switched her veiled gaze to Harry. “Great danger.”
Molly scowled. “I don’t believe it.”
“Very wise of you,” Harry said. “It’s superstitious nonsense.”
“I wouldn’t put too much credence in it, myself,” Evangeline admitted with surprising honesty. She paused, then said, “If it hadn’t been for the fact that it was Harry who shuffled the cards. Promise me that you’ll be careful, Harry.”
Molly frowned at the red king.
Harry touched her shoulder. “Relax, Molly. It’s all an illusion. Smoke and mirrors. Like catching knives or reading minds. Let’s go.”
7
I saw you write that check for your cousin Raleigh,” Molly said as she buckled her seat belt. It was early evening, the summer sun still bright on the horizon.
“Did you?” Harry put on a pair of sunglasses that were so dark they appeared black.
“Yes, I did. You can’t deny it.”
Harry rested an arm along the back of the seat and turned his head to survey the chaotic parking lot traffic. “Then you know why I don’t like to spend a lot of time at the carnival,” he said as he eased the Sneath P2 out from under the trees where he had parked it earlier in the day. “Costs a fortune.”
Molly smiled. “It was very nice of you.”
“Raleigh’s okay. He and Sheila aren’t very good with money, but they’re hard workers.”
“How did things go with your uncle?”
“Let’s just say we reached an understanding. With any luck it will hold until Josh graduates from college. By then Josh should be able to deal with the old man on his own.”
Molly hesitated and then gave in to the compelling curiosity. “I know this is none of my business, but just how did you talk Leon into backing off?”
Harry’s eyes were unreadable behind the black sunglasses, but his mouth quirked in a humorless fashion. “A combination of bribery and threats.”
“Bribery I can understand. But what sort of threat did you use?”
“One that has enough teeth in it to scare even Leon.” Harry shifted gears with a fluid snap and accelerated toward the exit.
Molly opened her mouth to ask for further details, but the words melted away when she saw the grim set of Harry’s jaw. Even the force of her Abberwick curiosity was not strong enough to overcome that no trespassing warning.
“I see,” Molly said.
Harry did not respond. He was wholly absorbed in his driving, as though he were an integral part of the vehicle as well as its master. The black sunglasses gave him a remote, alien quality.
Molly was beginning to recognize the signs. Harry was in one of his moods. He was walking through the dark jungle of his own thoughts, contemplating something he could not or would not discuss with her.
Molly sank back into the seat and watched the rural landscape rush past the windows as the sleek, exotic sports car plunged straight toward the center of the late sun.
After a while she turned and reached behind the seat to scoop up the package of kitchen gadgets she had purchased at the fair. She settled back to read the operating instructions for the Ace Wondermatic All-Purpose Kitchen Appliance.
Seattle was bathed in the last, fading light of the June evening when Harry exited Interstate Five. He drove into the heart of the city, heading toward First Avenue. Slowly he roused himself from the brooding mood that had settled on him.
When he stopped for a red light at Stewart and Third Avenue, he glanced at Molly. He had been comfortably aware of her presence beside him for the last hour, but it suddenly struck him that she hadn’t said a word since she had asked him about his meeting with Leon. Then again, he had not been much of a conversationalist, himself.
Damn.
A much belated alarm bell sounded somewhere in Harry’s brain. Women did not tolerate long silences well. He had learned that lesson from Olivia. Toward the end of the engagement she had complained increasingly about his long bouts of contemplation. The more she had berated him for them, the longer the silences had grown.
Harry wondered if he had screwed up royally this afternoon by failing to carry on a lively conversation during the drive from Hidden Springs. He tried to think of a smooth way to recover whatever ground he had lost through the extended silence.
He cleared his throat when the light changed. “It’s nearly eight o’clock.” He shifted gears gently. “I’ll park the car in the building garage. We can walk to one of the market restaurants for dinner.”
Molly turned to look at him, her gaze contemplative rather than accusing. Then she smiled slightly. “All right.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but at least she was not sulking. He was greatly cheered by the realization that Molly was not the type to hold a little silence against a man. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to apologize for his mood.
“Sorry I haven’t been a great conversationalist on this trip.” He turned into the alley behind his condominium building and used the remote to open the steel gate. “I was thinking.”
“I know. It really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
He removed his sunglasses as he drove into the garage. “What bothers me?”
“The way your family insists that you have the famous Trevelyan Second Sight.”
“It’s damned annoying at times.” Harry parked in a numbered slot. “But bear in mind that I only get that nonsense from my Trevelyan relatives. The Strattons think its total bunk. Which it is.”
“But you don’t laugh it off.” Molly studied his profile as he switched off the ignition. “Whenever the subject comes up, it either angers you or it sets you to brooding.”
He shoved open the car door. “If this is a roundabout way of telling me that I bored you to tears on this trip…”
“It’s not.” Molly opened her own door and got out. She faced him across the Sneath’s roof. “It’s merely an observation. The topic of the Trevelyan psychic gifts makes you irritable. Are you going to deny it?”
&n
bsp; “I agree it irritates me.” In fact, he was getting irritated all over again at this very minute, Harry realized. He made himself shut the car door with exquisite care.
“Do you know why?”
“Because it’s so much stupid nonsense.” And because sometimes I’m afraid that it’s not nonsense. Sometimes I wonder if it’s for real and if the knowing will drive me mad. Harry drew a deep breath and shoved that chilling thought back into the deepest recesses of his mind.
Molly watched him from the far side of the car. “I think there’s more to it than the fact that it violates your sense of academic reason and logic.”
Harry’s whole body tightened as though preparing for combat. He had known from the beginning that he was taking a risk with this woman.
“Such as?” he asked very casually.
Molly’s vivid, intelligent face was thoughtful. “Perhaps all the talk about the Trevelyan family talent reminds you too much of a world that you feel you barely escaped. The world of fake fortune-tellers and daredevils.”
Harry relaxed slightly. He rested his arms on the roof of the car. “You may have a point. But I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
“What’s that?”
“If you think I brood whenever the topic of the Trevelyan Second Sight arises, you should see me when I have to listen to one of my Stratton relatives lecture me about how I failed to follow four generations of Stratton men into the corporate world. The real world, where real men are sharks and wolves and other assorted predators and measure their worth by the size of their investment portfolios.”
She blinked in astonishment. Then she laughed softly. “How awful. I take it you haven’t bothered to please either side of your family?”
“No.” Harry was captivated by the amusement dancing in her green eyes. The last ghostly remnants of his latest mood evaporated. He smiled. “The Strattons don’t have any more respect for the academic world than the Trevelyans do. Both families think I deliberately chose an effete, ivory-tower life devoted to meaningless academic research and study merely to annoy them. The fact that I’ve made money at it just irritates them even more.”
“We all have our little motivations. So what if it took an overriding desire to annoy your relatives to turn you into a leading authority on the history of science?”
“On the whole, the Stratton complaints about my choice of careers aren’t any worse than the Trevelyans’,” Harry said. “Uncle Leon takes it a step farther, however. He worries about the genetic implications.”
“The genetic implications?”
Harry smiled fleetingly. “He’s convinced that my Stratton blood has unmanned me. He thinks it’s turned me into a weak, prissy wimp.”
“Good grief. No wonder you were feeling a bit moody on the drive home. Have you been juggling the Strattons and the Trevelyans all your life?”
“Yes.” He held up a hand to forestall the inevitable question. “Don’t ask me why I bother.”
“I don’t have to ask. None of us chooses our relatives.”
Harry reached into the car to collect Molly’s purchases. “I’ll put these in the trunk while we get something to eat.”
After dinner he would find a way to convince Molly to come back to the condo with him for the night, Harry thought as he opened the trunk. There had to be a way to manage that feat. He wanted her more tonight than he ever had. The need in him had metamorphosed into a gnawing hunger.
Perhaps if he had Molly in his bed tonight he would not lie awake thinking about the red king that he had dealt from Evangeline’s deck of cards. He hated it when things like that happened.
Intent on furthering his plans for the evening, Harry whisked Molly into the elevator and tapped the lobby button.
A moment later the doors opened to reveal the building lobby. The first thing Harry saw was his ex-fiancée, Olivia. She was striding restlessly back and forth in front of the doorman’s station.
“Damn,” he said softly.
This situation constituted positive proof that he lacked any shred of psychic talent, he thought grimly. If he’d actually possessed a touch of the Trevelyan Second Sight, surely he would have had a premonition of trouble on the way up from the garage.
At the sight of him, Olivia came to a halt. Her fingers tightened on the strap of her expensive taupe leather shoulder bag. “Harry.”
He eyed her warily. Olivia was impeccably turned out, as always. Her tendency toward perfectionism had been one of the things he had admired about her at the start of their relationship. It had implied self-control. It had implied that she was a woman who had answers.
Today she was dressed in a cream silk blouse, soft, rust-colored trousers, and a lightweight beige silk jacket. Her golden hair was drawn back into a refined twist. Her beautiful features were strained with tension. Her gray eyes were shadowed with concern.
Harry heroically resisted an urge to retreat back into the elevator. “Hello, Olivia.” He tightened his grip on Molly’s hand as he came to a halt in the middle of the lobby. “I’d like you to meet Molly Abberwick. Molly, this is Olivia Hughes. My cousin Brandon’s wife.”
“How do you do?” Molly said. She gave Olivia a polite smile.
Olivia nodded stiffly. “Hello.”
“We were just on our way out to dinner, Olivia,” Harry said. “Will you excuse us?”
Olivia’s fine brows came together in a determined frown. “Harry, I’ve been waiting for you for hours. Your housekeeper left at five. She told me that she was sure you’d be home this evening.”
“I am home, as you can see, but I’ve got plans.”
Olivia spared another brief glance for Molly and then dismissed her presence. “I want to talk to you. Family business.”
“Some other time, Olivia.” Harry made to go around her since Olivia showed no indication of moving out of his path.
“Harry, this is very important.”
Molly tugged on his arm. “Uh, Harry?”
Olivia’s mouth tightened. “I really must speak with you, Harry. The matter won’t wait.”
Molly gently disengaged her fingers. She smiled very brightly at Harry. “This looks serious. Don’t worry about me. I’ll take a cab home.”
“Damn it, Molly, whatever it is, it can wait. You and I are going out to dinner.”
“No.” Olivia’s voice cracked. “Brandon’s future is on the line, Harry. And it’s all your fault. You’re responsible for this mess. You’ve got to clean it up.”
“Me?” Harry stared at her.
“‘Bye, Harry.” Molly backed quickly toward the glass doors. “Thanks for an interesting day.”
He started to go after her. Olivia put a restraining hand on his arm.
“I have got to talk to you about this situation,” Olivia said urgently. “It won’t keep.”
“It’s okay,” Molly called from the glass doorway. “Really. No problem.”
Harry looked from one woman to the other. He knew when he was defeated. “I’ll have Chris get you a cab, Molly.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Trevelyan.” Chris, the evening doorman, reached for the phone.
“No need.” Molly was halfway out the door. “There’s one right across the street. I can see it from here.”
Harry took another step toward her and stopped. His hands tightened at his sides. He did not want her to go home alone. He wanted her here with him.
“I’ll call you later,” he said.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be in touch,” she assured him. “All the kitchen gadgets I bought at the fair are still in your car trunk.”
She waved. The heavy glass door swung shut. Harry watched as she scurried across the intersection to the waiting cab.
Molly was gone. He could feel the darkness settle around him.
* * *
“You’re in one of your moods, a
ren’t you?” Olivia sounded vaguely petulant as Harry ushered her through his front door. “It’s depression, you know. You might as well stop pretending it isn’t. Denial serves no therapeutic purpose.”
“I am definitely in a mood, and it is not a good one.” He closed the door and went to stand at the window. The last fragment of the setting sun disappeared behind the Olympics. Night closed in on the city. The old-fashioned round globes of the Pike Place Market streetlights down below cast a golden glow.
Harry tried to spot the cab that was carrying Molly toward the weird old mansion on Capital Hill, but it was long gone.
“Damn you, Harry, must you always be so self-absorbed? I came here to have a serious conversation with you. The least you can do is pay attention. This is all your fault in the first place.”
Harry did not turn around. “I assume this is connected to the conversation I had with Brandon yesterday morning?”
There was a brief, startled pause.
“Brandon talked to you?” Olivia sounded tentative.
“Yes.”
“Well? Did you make an effort to convince him not to leave Stratton Properties?”
“He’s a full-grown adult. It’s his future. His decision. Why should I get involved?”
“Because he would never have come up with this little scheme if it hadn’t been for you,” Olivia exploded softly. “Damn it, Harry, he’s doing this to prove something, not because it’s the best thing for our future. I’ve tried, but I can’t get him to take a rational view of the situation.”
Harry glanced at her over his shoulder. “What do you think he’s trying to prove?”
“That he’s as strong and independent as you are.” Olivia tossed her purse down onto the sofa with an angry movement of her hand. “He’s jealous of you, Harry.”
“Jealous? Why the hell should he be jealous? You left me to marry him.”
Olivia swung around furiously. “Must you bring that up?”
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