Jealousy

by Nancy Bush

  Jake had said he wanted to have a boy in April. See how the family reacted to that. He’d sounded so serious that after September had laughed, her heart had clutched, and then he’d broken into a grin and she’d jumped on his back and pretended to strangle him for scaring her so much, and they’d ended up falling onto the bed and making love.

  “What?” she asked with a start, realizing Jerome had asked her a question.

  “I asked if you worked with your husband.”

  “Oh, no. I’m currently unemployed.”

  He seemed to sense there was more, because he asked, “And what do you do?”

  “She was a detective with the Laurelton Police Department,” Jake said.

  Jerome looked surprised, then leaned in to peer at her closely. “I know you. You were on television. Their spokesperson.”

  “Once or twice,” September said quickly. “Not that much.”

  “I saw Pauline Kirby interview you.”

  September managed a smile and nodded. She hadn’t liked being interviewed by the newswoman, but now even those uncomfortable moments had a sheen of nostalgia. You really are pathetic.

  * * *

  Layla was nearly faint with anxiety. She’d spent the last month making plans on how to combat Neil and now here he was, with Courtney, and she could feel his cool gaze skating over her, could see the triumphant smile he didn’t try to hide.

  Why did you want me in the first place? she wanted to cry. There were many other respected families in the Portland area. Why her, why the Crissmans?

  But if he’d chosen someone else, there would be no Eddie.

  “Here,” John Linfield said to the woman who’d initially refused his glass of champagne and who was now gazing expectantly toward the kitchen. “It may be awhile.”

  Layla had yet to take a sip from the glass he’d handed to her. “I need to go find Lucy,” she said.

  “She’ll be back,” he answered dismissively.

  He turned from her, and she took a step in the direction in which Lucy had disappeared, and suddenly Neil was right in front of her. She stared at his bow tie and cummerbund, both made of denim and imprinted with spurs and branding irons. The diamond ring on his right hand had been in his family for years.

  “Hello, Layla,” he said. He was holding two glasses of champagne. “I picked you up a glass, but I see someone beat me to the punch.” He gave John’s back a long look.

  “My brother-in-law,” Layla said, then could have kicked herself for being too forthcoming. It didn’t work with Neil. He played a game of wits and she needed to be sharp and careful.

  “Ah,” he said thoughtfully.

  And then Courtney was there, filling the space beside him, her smile a challenge. Layla knew the type. She’d always deplored those kinds of female games, but now, finding herself in the midst of one whether she liked it or not, she wanted to fight.

  But that would be a bad, bad idea. She had a lawsuit coming up. No drama. Nothing that might hit the papers, and let’s face it, a skirmish at a social event of this prominence was a nonstarter.

  All this flitted through her brain a half second before she thrust out her free hand to Courtney, tacking on a smile of her own, and said, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Layla Crissman.”

  “Courtney Mayfield.”

  Layla turned to Neil. “I didn’t expect you at my family’s event.”

  “It’s a benefit for the Friends of the Columbia River Gorge,” he reminded her, his smile widening. He loved a game of one-upmanship. She should have seen that from the get-go. “Not really your family’s event.”

  “The Crissmans are hosting,” Courtney said with a kind of false sweetness that set Layla’s teeth on edge.

  “Should I make anything of this?” Layla asked Neil. How had she ever thought he was attractive? He looked like a troll. Short, squatty, and smug.

  “Of what?”

  “That you came. That you’re here, when you and I . . . are on opposite sides.”

  “I came to donate money to a worthy cause. We all have to do our part, don’t we? Save the beauty of the area. Help the businesses that suffered. I noticed your painting over there.” He nodded his head in the direction where Layla had placed her art. “Think I should buy it?”

  Layla struggled to keep her expression neutral. “Sure. Maybe you could make it a gift for Ed—ah, our baby.”

  “Edda?” His eyes darkened.

  She hadn’t meant to give away her nickname, but there it was. “I call our baby Eddie.”

  Courtney sucked in a breath.

  “Eddie,” he repeated softly. “You don’t have a right to name him.”

  “Not yet,” Layla answered, even more softly.

  Courtney blurted out, “I’m pregnant, too. Neil and I just found out!”

  Layla’s lips parted. She stared at Neil’s girlfriend in shock.

  Neil turned to Courtney, so angry he looked like he might hit her.

  “It’s a boy,” Courtney said, though her voice sounded a bit uncertain, like she was seriously regretting saying anything.

  “How do you know?” Layla looked at her flat stomach.

  But Courtney had been hushed to silence, and Neil was stonily infuriated.

  Layla gazed at him, hurt and angry. He was trying to steal her baby even while he was having one of his own.

  She sure as hell was going to use that against him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lucy walked out the back door and in through the front again. The pert young girl greeting guests had been too inundated with questions and confusion to ask for Lucy’s ticket when she’d reentered after returning from the Audi, but this time she stood like a wall, demanding proof that Lucy was a paid guest. For a moment, Lucy was flummoxed, her head full of the memory of those embarrassing and revolting moments with Mark, the bartender, and the realization that John knew everything he needed to get the picture already.

  “I’m Lucy Crissman,” she stated firmly. “My family’s putting on this benefit.”

  “Oh.” The girl blinked. “Everybody has a ticket to prove they paid.”

  “Well, I don’t have a ticket,” Lucy said patiently. “I was already inside and went out through a back door. I could have gone back in that way, but I came to the front.”

  “I need to ask Roger. . . .”

  “I’m sorry,” Lucy said, brushing past her. She couldn’t take any more of the regulations. She wanted to cry or stomp her foot in anger or shriek at the heavens or bang her head against a wall.

  Kate was the first person who crossed into Lucy’s line of vision and she groaned inwardly. Spying her sister-in-law, Kate turned toward her. “Lucy, where have you been?”

  “Why? Have I been missed?” she was surprised into asking back.

  “Jerome Wolfe has been asking for you and Layla and Lyle. I think he . . . well, I don’t exactly know what he has in mind.”

  “Lucy!”

  Layla’s voice rang out, a small note of hysteria in it. Lucy left Kate and walked to where Layla was talking to a man and a woman. John was directly behind them, engaged in a conversation with someone else.

  “Lucy, this is Neil Grassley and Courtney Mayfield. This is my sister, Lucy Linfield.”

  Lucy shook hands with Neil, momentarily jarred from her own problems to examine the man in front of her. Neil was shorter than Layla and looked Lucy right in the eye. He had a softness to him that was also evidenced in the plump grip of his handshake. He had a nice enough face, but Lucy thought she detected a coldness there. Courtney Mayfield didn’t bother to shake her hand; in fact, she barely met Lucy’s eyes as she gazed around the room with that look of hoping someone better would walk through the door.

  “Lucy, Layla . . .” Kate’s voice had a note of reprimand. Both sisters turned to regard her. “Lyle’s over there with Jerome Wolfe. Do you see?”

  Lucy swiveled her attention and first noticed how tense and uptight her brother looked. At that moment, a tray of grilled s
hrimp passed by, too far for her to grab a skewer. Just as well, she thought dourly. Her earlier hunger had vanished. She felt completely clenched up.

  Tiny mushroom caps stuffed with crabmeat wafted past on a tray. Neil tried to grab one, but the small Asian server whisked them away, homing toward an empty tray that had been set down and once held champagne glasses. Another server with new champagne glasses hesitated a moment, then set down her tray and looked after the disappearing Asian woman, as if asking if it was the right thing to do.

  Guests swarmed the tray and the girl backed away as if she’d left food out for dangerous beasts.

  Kate said in sudden fury, “I told Jean-Luc the size of the crowd!”

  John knocked back his champagne and reached for another glass. The Asian server came flying out of the kitchen and stopped short in dismay. Neil and Courtney were each helping themselves to a flute, which was sending Kate into conniptions. She rushed over and had a talk with the Asian woman. The other server was nowhere to be seen.

  John asked, “Anyone want another?”

  Layla said, “I’m still working on this one.”

  He gave Lucy a hard look.

  “Sure, then, why not? I feel like drowning myself,” Lucy said, meeting his gaze. She was determined not to let her problems with John eclipse the rest of the evening. What was done was done. Might as well drink too much and think about something else.

  But before he could get her the glass, Kate implored, “Lucy, Layla . . .” And shooed them toward Lyle, who was regarding all of them with a strange look on his face.

  “What?” Lucy asked him as they drew near. She realized he was turned slightly away from the handsome and evil Jerome Wolfe.

  “Thought I saw someone ... I knew . . .” Lyle grimaced and looked to Wolfe, who was staring straight at Lucy.

  “Lucy Crissman,” Jerome said.

  “Linfield,” she corrected. She’d met him a couple of times before, but he’d always seemed so chilly. There was something a bit austere about him, like John, like ... he who would not be named.... She seemed to attract men of a particular type, though she wasn’t attracted to Jerome Wolfe, the thief who would buy Stonehenge out from under them.

  She glanced back at John and found him staring at her. As soon as they made eye contact, he turned away. It hurt. She couldn’t deny that.

  “And you must be Layla . . .” Jerome eyed Layla up and down, taking in the way she looked in the denim pantsuit.

  “Welcome to the eighties,” Layla said, reading him correctly.

  “Ha.” He grinned at her, but Layla only managed a sick smile in return. Lucy gazed at her sister sharply. Layla was miles away.

  Kate said brightly, “Okay, Jerome. I’ve rounded them all up.”

  Wolfe glanced from Layla to Lyle and then back to Lucy. He addressed them all, but he kept his gaze centered on Lucy. “I’ve been in discussions with your father and Lyle . . .” Lucy slid her brother a look, but he was peering over the crowd, though she sensed it was for effect, as if he’d removed himself from the moment. “I’ve also been talking to an investment adviser about this lodge.”

  “Stonehenge should be on the historical registry,” Layla said somewhat distractedly.

  Jerome smiled at her but went on. “The investment adviser said buying the lodge likely wouldn’t make me any money.”

  Lucy’s attention had been wavering, but now it crashed back to the moment. She felt a spurt of hope. “That sounds promising.”

  “It’s not,” said Lyle, as if the words were ripped out of him.

  “But I’m buying it anyway,” Jerome finished, his smile almost a grimace, as if he were feeling pain. “Be assured your father and brother drove a hard bargain.” He grinned more easily at Lyle, who didn’t even act like he’d heard him. “I just know you two girls have been against the sale and I hope there are no hard feelings.”

  Bullshit. Bull. Shit. Lucy glared at her brother, wanting to slap both of his two lying faces. And the same for Jerome Wolfe. Acting so warm and understanding while he was stabbing both Layla and her in the back. Girls? She hadn’t been called a girl since the first years of college, and even then she’d been insulted.

  “We girls don’t want to sell, that’s true,” said Lucy. “We want Stonehenge to stay in the family. That’s true, too. And though we may be fighting a losing battle, we’ll continue to fight you.”

  Wolfe looked amused. “It’s pretty much a done deal.”

  Lyle interjected, “It is a done deal. Lucy, could I talk to you?”

  He glanced back at Wolfe and gave him a curt nod, then grabbed Lucy by the elbow and steered her away.

  “Hey!” Lucy shouted, but Lyle’s grip was firm. She twisted to glance over her shoulder and saw Layla move in John’s direction once more, away from Neil and Courtney, who’d drifted closer to them and Jerome during their conversation. Perhaps Neil had hopes of overhearing what Jerome Wolfe and Abbott’s three children were talking about. All the while, Kate was standing by awkwardly, as if she didn’t know which way to turn.

  Lyle led her to a spot under the gallery near Layla’s painting, with Wolfe strolling toward them. “What do you think you’re doing?” Lucy yanked back her arm and glared at her brother. “Have you lost your mind?”

  He said, “Jerome would like to talk to you alone.”

  “So? You don’t have to manhandle me,” Lucy snapped, both annoyed and infuriated. Rubbing her arm, she threw a glance at Wolfe but said to her brother, “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  What was wrong with him?

  He stared at her for a second, as if deciding how he could make her see his point of view, then snorted and shook his head. “Do whatever you need to,” Lyle muttered, stalking away. In his hurry, he jostled an older woman. Her arm flew upward to catch her balance. Luckily, the champagne glass she was holding was empty; otherwise her drink would have spilled down the front of her dress.

  Wolfe didn’t waste time with niceties. “I want this lodge for the same reasons you do, Lucy. Family history. You Crissmans pushed us out long ago and we didn’t want to be pushed out.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m righting that wrong. You can either obstruct or facilitate the transaction. It’s all the same to me. I’d just rather we worked together instead of against each other.”

  Lucy wished she’d gotten that last glass of champagne before she had to go toe-to-toe with Wolfe. She was resentful that she was the one who’d been appointed, apparently, to deal with Wolfe. “The main reason you want the lodge is to get back at us?”

  “I wouldn’t put it quite that way.”

  “What way would you put it?”

  He shrugged and smiled, showing even teeth. She just bet he got by on his charm, but he was a snake in the grass.

  “The lodge is cursed, you know,” Lucy told him. “Bad things happen here.”

  His grin widened. “I do know that,” he agreed. “Inexplicable deaths. Your grandmother . . . no, great-grandmother,” he corrected himself before Lucy could do that for him. “And a number of people who worked at the lodge. Some near deaths. And the family that lives closest to the lodge, the ones with the nature girl, lost their son to mysterious circumstances.”

  “The Kilgores.”

  “Yes, the Kilgores.”

  The way he said it, with that trace of amusement, made her realize he knew all about the family whose property abutted Stonehenge. She corrected him. “Their son died of suffocation in his crib. A terrible accident.”

  “Have you talked to them lately?”

  Lucy felt like there was some kind of one-upmanship going on here that she didn’t understand. “Mr. Kilgore died last year, but I haven’t talked to Mona since then. I think Lyle has, though.” Lyle was closest to the Kilgore family.

  “Daniel Kilgore died of heart failure and Mona is very frail. Their daughter—”

  “The nature girl,” Lucy cut in coolly.

  “Yes, the nature girl, Brianne, is intereste
d in selling. She knows I’m buying Stonehenge and so . . . after Mona dies, we’re going to talk over a deal.”

  “I don’t believe it. No way! Brianne loves that property. She’s in tune with it. When we were kids, she would take all of us out into the forest. She knew every plant, every sign of animal life. She loved the woods. She couldn’t have changed that much.”

  “I’ve talked to her, and she’s ready to sell. That’s all I know.”

  Lucy was flabbergasted. Her memory of Brianne was of someone almost otherworldly. She couldn’t picture her making any financial decisions. But then, how many years had it been since she’d seen her?

  “Lucy, I don’t want to be on bad terms with you. I know your brother and father want us to come to an agreement that we can all live with.”

  “If you actually purchase Stonehenge, that won’t happen.”

  “Wolfe Lodge,” he corrected.

  “Okay, Wolfe Lodge. I don’t know how many ways I can say it. I’m not behind this sale, so . . . I choose to obstruct.”

  His demeanor grew harder. “Lyle felt I could appeal to you. Maybe he picked the wrong sister.”

  “Why don’t you go talk to Layla and find out?”

  “You really don’t want to make an enemy of me,” he said.

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  At that moment, someone came up and touched his arm. He held her gaze for a moment, a silent battle cry that chilled her inside, before turning around to talk to a woman she didn’t recognize. Lucy couldn’t think of one good reason to prolong their conversation, so she walked back toward the center of the room.

  Her brother had moved toward the now-empty champagne tray along with Kate, John, and Layla. Lucy had lost sight of Neil and Courtney, which was probably a good thing.

  As she headed straight for Lyle, she saw one of the staff press a last bruschetta in front of Layla’s nose. Lucy lost sight of her sister as she circled around a group of six who were hovering near a table of crystal vases. The silent auction was about to close, and they apparently wanted to make certain they were the last signature and therefore the purchasers. When she finally got around the cluster of bodies she saw Layla had plucked up the bruschetta, but it was still between her fingers. She said something to John and then passed the hors d’oeuvre to him. John bit into the toast, holding up a hand to catch some of the tomato topping just as he saw Lucy approaching. Immediately, his expression darkened. Lucy’s stomach clenched, but by then she’d caught up with Lyle, who was standing stiffly, watching Kate as she headed in the direction of the kitchen.