Erika turned quickly to the window, hoping to hide her excruciating personal embarrassment.
The immensely furnished suite became deathly silent, as if a vault had suddenly been shut. Erika held her breath. Lawrence began to pace back and forth in front of the panoramic windows. Hands behind his back, he continued to pace for what seemed like an eternity. Then suddenly he turned to Erika.
"Are you sure you heard correctly? Are you sure they were … involved? Are you sure, Erika,” he finished pointedly.
“All you had to do was watch the color drain from his face to know I had caught him at a most inopportune time.”
“I … I left during his heated pleas of innocence … his ardent drunken declaration of love … finally, his pathetic sorrowful way of trying to make me feel guilty for his indiscretions. As I was trying to get our car from valet, Robert McCord drove up alone, saw my distress and quickly insisted on taking me home himself. I was so upset … I confided in Rob. He … he told me he had seen Steve with the woman before on several occasions and that it was generally known …”
Leaning back in his leather chair, Lawrence gravely considered the matter.
Erika knew from years of living with Lawrence that he wasn’t one to easily believe hearsay, wasn’t one to easily throw away relationships of any kind, be it personal or business. He was a loyalist and would be until his last heartbeat. She knew he was weighing Steve’s misbehavior with the months he had personally worked closely with him … the calculated charm that really had worked its way into her uncle’s heart. But Erika also knew he trusted his long friendship with the McCord family and would take Robert at his word.
Pushing his chair back from the Chippendale desk, Lawrence said slowly and distinctly, “I don’t want this hitting the press.”
"Yes,” Erika agreed. “They would create an ugly three-party spin.”
Lawrence seemed very subdued. Very thoughtful. “Have you heard from him?"
"When faced with the undeniable truth, he admitted it. Steve said that he'd never cared about me, only about the association and privileges my name would bring to him."
Circling the elegant office, Erika continued. "He said the only thing he cared about was financial independence and that somehow he would get it, despite this little set back and that even marriage to me would have been worth the benefits. Then he warned that if I made any moves to have him removed from Crawford, he would sue me, the corporation and my "precious uncle" for all we've got!"
With trembling hands, Erika covered her face to hide the tears that again threatened to spill.
"Well, honey," Lawrence said while slowly shaking his head, "I am so sorry. I misjudged that boy. I gave him freedom to move around the company. I trusted him, and I treated him like my own son, for your sake. I guess one can be clear-headed when faced with business crises and so foolish when it comes to personal relationships."
Then pounding his fist on the desk, he exploded, "I bought his tale and his silver tongue. It horrifies me to think of its cost. From the day, he sat in my office and told me you were his dream come true, I believed his damn song and dance. I even thought you two were a perfect match. Erika, please forgive my blindness. But he can think again! No one, absolutely no one threatens me or my family," he boomed. “Caslin doesn’t want to play that game with me because he will lose.”
"You need to get away so you can put this terrible situation behind you,” Lawrence continued in a more subdued tone. “I will handle all the details on this end. Just give me a statement for the press. After that L.A. World article, I'm sure we'll need it."
"Uncle Lawrence, I love you so much. I just ... I couldn't stand to be here. I feel so humiliated. And thank you for understanding … everything. I’m sorry for the short notice, but I am leaving in the morning. I found this secluded little place in Northern Idaho. I think it will be the perfect place to put this all behind me."
"Where exactly is this remote lake?" he questioned uneasily.
Erika couldn’t help but smile softly as she reassured her uncle that everything would be fine and she was more than capable of taking care of herself and of running the company someday.
As she turned to leave, Erika whirled around as the reason for her trip once again brought it to the forefront of her mind. “What are we going to do about Steve?” she questioned hesitantly. “I think he'll make good on his threat. He must save face now. Yet, we can't just give him a free reign at Crawford," she said thinking aloud. "His confidence convinces me that he’s on to something. What about these stocks you are monitoring? Could there be a connection? My sources assure me the patent is buttoned up, and at least on that account I trust Hillston and Cromwell implicitly.”
"Erika, don’t trust anyone outside of family," he warned.
“But Hillston and Cromwell …”
“Not anyone,” he reiterated sharply.
She sighed deeply. “I suppose you’re right. But how do you go through life holding everyone at bay,” she finished apathetically.
“Erika, when fortunes are at stake, people are … funny,” Lawrence answered distantly. “That’s why at the end of your life … when you’re old, like me, you will have only a handful of true friends. Like the McCords, for instance. I always had hopes for you and Robert,” he said suddenly turning a mischievous smile at her disgruntled expression.
“I’ve told you a thousand times, Uncle Lawrence; Rob was like a brother growing up. Besides, he is happily married.”
The conversation was thought provoking. It was disheartening. Erika was a little raw around the edges to consider trusting again … but her whole life? It seemed like such a dismal sentence. But look at Lawrence. He had a full life and he had wisdom even beyond his years.
“I suppose you’re right about trust,” she acquiesced.
“I am right,” he answered confidently. “Don’t look so depressed, Erika. Someday a man, a worthy man, will come into your life and you will trust him implicitly. You will create your own family and there you will have complete security. But until then, I would stay away from the gossip mills in this company. I doubt you’ll find your match here in this empire. You have so much to give. I want someone to fall in love with you, just Erika, not Erika Crawford, heir to the fortune.”
“Well, it’s a good speech to bolster morale, Uncle Lawrence, but I’m not quite interested in going down that aisle anytime soon.”
With a deep roaring chuckle and a twinkle in his eye, Lawrence thoroughly enjoyed his niece’s sour expression. “You never made it to the aisle, little one.” And then more seriously, “I love you, you know. You will always be my baby," he finished in a surprisingly husky voice.
Chapter Four
Erika didn’t know how much time had passed but the sun was no longer streaming through the picturesque window and the cabin was no longer pleasantly warm. Life in Los Angeles slowly faded to the background with the sound of a persistent banging at the back door.
"Hello? Hello? Miss Crawford? Are you in there," an elderly woman yelled through the door.
"Crawford?" Oh no, Erika grimaced. So much for living the life of Marie Bancroft! How ever did she learn my real name, she complained to herself?
The spry older woman cracked a gigantic grin when she got her first glimpse of Erika, who had hesitantly opened the door to her incessant banging. She was further shocked and dismayed when the older woman easily pushed her way through the door, past Erika, and seated herself comfortably in the main room.
Erika paused at the door with her back to the stranger, hoping to subdue her growing annoyance at the woman. "Um ... my name is Marie Bancroft," she stated emphatically as she firmly closed the cottage door. "Is there something I can do for you?"
The older woman was amused by her politeness. As if she was asking her to tea.
"Would you like something to drink? Some tea, perhaps? I believe there is some in the kitchen,” she offered out of habit."
I knew it, the woman said under her breath. A pr
oper young lady … and beautiful too! Californian, no doubt.
"No thanks, dear. I already had my mornin' coffee. What did you say the name was?"
Her surprisingly clear eyes were wide and direct. Erika correctly assumed that this woman was extremely forthright in everything she did.
"My name is Marie Bancroft," Erika again emphasized.
"Where did I get the name Crawford?" the woman asked herself with confusion. She also noted that the young lady had on expensive grubbies. In her line of business, she could recognize them a mile away. She may be old, but she still paged through those fancy-schmancy fashion magazines once in a while. And, she never forgot anything!
"How did you know I was here?" Erika asked tentatively redirecting the question to her advantage again. She was uncomfortable with the conversation and the woman's apparent interest.
"Oh, I always know when we have a tenant in the cottage," she waved descriptively. "I clean this place in between folks. Oh, don't look so surprised, young lady, I may be old but these old bones still do jus' fine," the woman chuckled.
"Well, Crawford is the name of ... my friend,” Erika began thoughtfully, a little dismayed at the idea that she may have a constant visitor throughout her month-long stay. She also knew she better be very careful in the information she divulged as the woman was unlikely to forget much of what she said. “She, ah, rented this place for ... my birthday. I've been working so hard that my friend ... and boss thought I could use a vacation."
As soon as the statement slipped through her lips, Erika knew it didn't sound right. Her feeling was confirmed when the woman raised her thick eyebrows suspiciously and stated, "Must have a rich friend!"
The older woman considered the information. No, she wisely concluded, Crawford isn't the name of her friend and she's trying to hide something. Then again, who isn’t? This whole lake is tryin' to hide somethin'. I'll sympathize with her privacy. She does seem awfully young to be up here on her own.
"Well ... name's Maime,” she said aloud. “I've lived here a long time and I've seen a lot of folks come though this place. It's a great place to hide out for a while. We're all here to hide from somethin’ or another."
She chuckled as her eyes seemed to drift to a place far from the cottage. "Years and years ago, people came from all over the country to hide here. Most of them were alcoholics. You know, prohibition and the like," she said narrowing her clear eyes on Erika. "I understands needin' a vacation, guess this place is as good as any to sift through the priorities of this world," she said with alarming accuracy.
Erika's breath shortened as seemingly the crystal clear hazel eyes of this unknown woman pierced and examined her pain. It was uncomfortable and it left her feeling vulnerable … yet strangely comforted. Though their cultural identities were worlds apart, Erika sensed a kindred spirit. She willed the tears back but didn't exactly succeed. Instinctively, she knew that here sat a strong woman, one who could shoulder the cares of another. Simple wisdom, Erika pondered, born from a simple place like this would probably rival that of the highest paid psychologist in Los Angeles.
"Maime," Erika whispered softly, her voice revealing the emotion, "it's nice to meet you. I'll be here for about a month. I'm looking forward to getting better acquainted with you." And … strangely … Erika really meant that.
"Yes, I'm sure you are honey. People always likes to make my acquaintance. I'm just an old mother who has lots of love to spread around. Welcome to Priest Lake. Now," she said while straining to her feet, "this place is named Kootenai Bay. There are only four homes and a marina, Toblers, on this bay. The Big House is north of here about six hundred yards. The marina is south along the shoreline. The two other homes are tied to the marina. I live in one."
"I assume the Big House is where Mrs. Anderson lives?"
"Oh, no, child," Maime exclaimed! "Mrs. Mor ... Anderson," she said shaking her white head, "lives in the Big House, or Bear Creek Lodge as it’s properly called. She's not here but her grandson is. I've yet to see him today, but he's around. I suggest staying away from that one. He don't like visitors much. Just Papa and me. We're all like family."
Maime slowly moved to the door, her eyes peculiarly assessing Erika ... studying her.
"Anyways, as I was saying before I got off track, there’s a little store at the marina, necessities and the like ... not much. You'll be needin' to stock up probably today. There's a larger market, the Old Leonard Paul store in Coolin, across the lake. Course, there's also Newport, the big town, and it’s south of here 'bout forty-five minutes."
"Yes, I traveled through that town on the way in yesterday."
"You did? I thought Skip was goin' to get you at the airport yesterday. I didn't see no car out front. How'd you get here?"
"Oh, no, Mr. Snyder had to cancel my flight. The airport was fogged in. That reminds me, I must get word to him today that I'm here. Coincidentally, I ran into someone who lives up here and he offered me a lift. His name was Tim, something. I don't recall his last name, I'm afraid. He wasn't overly thrilled with the company. He probably isn't used to people," Erika confided. "I think he's a hermit. I suppose I should thank him for the ride but I didn't even ask what part of the lake he lived on. Do you know a Tim?"
"Tim? Well now,” she said while scratching her silver head, “the Preacher has a son named Tim ... but he’s too little, then Martha’s son is named Tim also, but he and his wife went on an Alaskan cruise,” she continued somewhat perplexed.
“Well, this one certainly didn’t have a wife,” Erika assured her visitor. “He didn’t have the manners for one.”
“I knows a Timmy Mor ... You know,” she said quickly as an idea formed in her crafty old head, “there are a lot of Tims around the lake,” Maime beamed. “If he's a hermit, you won't want to bother him. You may never even see him again, then again, you just might. Never can say. Well, if you would like to go into Newport, Papa's leaving at three this afternoon. You're welcome to ride along. I'd advise stocking up. In this country, it could be nice and hot and then come nightfall, snow could be comin' down."
Erika crossed the room to close the door behind the fleeting form of Maime. Looking over her shoulder, Maime waved with a smile that immediately evaporated like the mist at dawn when she turned around.
What was Timmy doin' pickin' up that girl she wondered. I thought he didn't want anyone to know who he was. It's odd that he would even care enough 'bout a stranger, even one as pretty as the black headed gal, to bring her up his self.
Well, she muttered, this will be an interesting month. Two young people, unattached young people she amended, all the way up here with nothing to do. A smile like the rising sun began to dawn on her wrinkling face. Ah the excitement ... more likely fireworks, she thought, when the deceit on both sides is brought into the light of day. It was more than a body could stand, she thought.
Usually, Maime protected T.J. Morgan with her life. Except this time, she just happened to like the new tenant, a lot. She was proper and Maime liked that. T.J. deserved someone like that. She was also gentle and determined, Maime could tell. She could tame a tiger like Timmy. Well, since he wasn't doing much in that department for himself, it was time for Maime to step in. After all, she knew what he needed better than anyone.
Coming to a conclusion, Maime quickened her footsteps and ran to tell Papa, her husband, the news. After all, it wasn't often that things this exciting happened at the lake.
----
Ellie hung up the phone after talking to Erika with growing alarm. Everything had been so carefully planned. How could things have gone wrong?
As she quickly walked to the elevator and up to the CEO's office, she tried to assure herself it was just another of Erika's skittish feelings. Erika was a competent executive, Ellie knew firsthand. But when it came to the security of her deceased father's empire, her business sense was somewhat skewed.
"Well, hello, Earlene,” Ellie breathed sweetly. “How are you doing on this fine autumn day?"
<
br /> Unaccustomed to Ellie's friendliness, Earlene responded coolly, "I'm just as fine as always. Are you here to pick up Erika's messages from Marcy Garcia, that reporter for L.A. World? I do declare that woman is a nuisance. I'm glad you will be handling them from now on. Here."
Ellie snatched the messages, wondering why Erika hadn't seen fit to inform her of them. Interesting, she thought, very interesting.
"Oh yes, that was the original intent but it’s been such a long time since you and I have had a chance for a chat. Our bosses keep us so busy, there's never enough time in the day, it seems. So, I said to myself, Ellie, you are just going to take the time for a chat today." Ellie breathed a relaxed sigh as she reclined in the comfortable chair next to the desk causing a bespectacled Earlene to squint at the unexpected attempt at conversation.
"Actually, my work load is severely diminished since Erika's departure. You know these ... Crawfords," she said lightly while running a thin finger along the arm of her chair. "They work hard and play hard, know what I mean?"
Ellie knew Earlene's insatiable desire for gossip and was counting on that very fact to obtain the necessary information. She continued, "You know, in some ways I feel sorry for the Marcy Garcia's of this world. It's almost funny when you think how hard they must work just to get their story. I mean, Erika's schedule. It's positively demented! I doubt she ever sleeps."
"Yes, I know," Earlene said being drawn into the conversation in spite of herself. "Marcy Garcia said in her last column that she was having a hard time keeping up on all the celebrities and their eccentric lifestyles. I actually admire her for her commitment to keep everyone informed."
Whispers of the Heart Page 6
