Maggie sat well back in her chair as the editor described the results of a stepped-up sales campaign. She was only half-listening, for it wasn't really her concern whose ads filled the pages, as long as those ads paid the costs of the editorial section.
She was thinking about Karr and the way he'd issued that final threat. If he'd shouted, or gotten red in the face, or sworn at her, she wouldn't have been nearly so disturbed. But instead he'd almost whispered, and Maggie didn't know what to think. The only thing she was certain of was that it was even more important that she stay exactly where she was…
She was so absorbed in her own worries that she took a moment even to react to the editor's bombshell.
"I'm sorry to do this to you all," Brian said, "but all the deadlines for the issue have been moved up a week."
Maggie's pencil slid out of her hand. "Brian, that's impossible!"
"Difficult, maybe, but it can't be impossible, because we're going to do it. And before you tell me how unreasonable it is, Rawlings, let me explain the facts of life. You wanted an additional eight pages for editorial content, and you got it. But that pushes the printers to their limit, and they want an extra week or they won't guarantee we'll hit the newsstands on time. If you'd rather have the time and not the space—"
Maggie bit her tongue for an instant. "Forget I said anything, Brian."
"Good. The deadline is now three weeks from tomorrow. Anybody with problems in meeting that, see me after the meeting. I think that's all for this morning; we'll have another progress meeting next Wednesday."
Maggie was the last one out of the room, and she almost bumped into Chad Buckley near Carol's desk. She pulled up short and said eagerly, "Have you found anything out?"
"About your lease? I'm working on it. How's the heat? Since I didn't hear from you—"
"I'm sorry, I should have called you. Elliot the Great turned it back on. But it's even more important now that I stay there. How long will it take to evict me, once he starts proceedings?"
Carol sat up straight. "Elliot the Great being the landlord? This sounds interesting, Maggie. Do tell—what have you been doing to get evicted? Loud parties? Loads of men? And most important, if that's what's been going on, why haven't I been invited?"
"It's nothing that interesting," Maggie said crisply.
Chad shrugged. "I can hold it up for weeks, certainly. Months, perhaps. I'll start to work on it."
"If I can just get through this special issue, then I'll have time to fight the real battle. How much do you know about historic preservation?"
"Saving old buildings from the wreckers? I've always been on the other side of that argument, I'm afraid." He smiled a little. "Maybe we should go someplace historic for the weekend, so we could do some research on the question."
"Can't. My attorney told me not to leave home."
Chad shook his head. "Caught in my own advice." He turned as the editor called his name. "See you later, Margaret."
"If you want my opinion, Maggie," Carol said, "free legal advice is worth exactly what you pay for it."
"Except Chad's isn't exactly free," Maggie agreed. She reached for a bagel from the box on Carol's desk. "Thanks for taking care of the snacks. I owe you."
"You certainly do—I'm holding out for that recommendation you promised. Tell me more about your landlord."
"There aren't any fascinating details, I'm afraid. Listen, if Chad comes back before I get away from here, hit the intercom button and I'll slide under my desk—so you can honestly tell him you haven't seen me anywhere."
Chad didn't disturb her, but there were a million other details awaiting Maggie's attention, and it was mid-afternoon before she could once more pack up her briefcase and take the train to Eagleton.
Even then, she had trouble settling down to work; the rhythmic clacking of wheels against rails seemed to mimic the questions that were going round and round in her mind.
What was she to do about Eagle's Landing? Somewhere, there had to be an answer, if she could just find the right person, ask the right question, press the right button.
But that would take time, and how was she to find the necessary hours? The special issue had to come first, especially with the new and more stringent deadline. She wouldn't dare take chances with her job, even if this hadn't been a project close to her heart.
It didn't appear that Chad was going to be much help, either. The only thing of real value he'd had to offer so far was to tell her not to leave the premises…
It was not a good day to be away from home, she realized. When she got back to Eagle's Landing, she might find all her possessions neatly stacked in the driveway.
No, Karr had said he'd give her till dark on Wednesday, and she didn't think he'd go back on his own offer. But as for what might happen after dark…that was anyone's guess.
The house was quiet. There was not so much as a workman's van around, and certainly no black Mercedes.
Upstairs, Tripp greeted her with frantic yelps. The poor baby must have felt abandoned, Maggie realized. She hadn't realized it, but with no Libby to come and play and take him out for walks, without even the companionable noises from the other apartments that must have assured him throughout every day that he wasn't alone in the world—no wonder he was distraught. It had been cruel not to anticipate how lonely he'd be.
She petted him for a long time, murmuring apologies and reassurances, till he stopped quivering, and then took him out for a walk in the grounds.
It was almost dark by then, and the moon was rising. Maggie found herself thinking that Eagle's Landing would make a perfect haunted house—it wouldn't be hard at all to make the looming facade look threatening, or to create ghostly shadows behind the blank glass of the windows. Only the top floor was an island of sanity, where cheerful yellow light glowed invitingly.
With the downstairs apartments empty except for a few tools, the workmen hadn't bothered to close and lock the doors. Maggie walked through the main floor rooms with Tripp padding at her heels. Moonlight was an inadequate guide; details vanished, while major architectural elements were magnified by the stark lighting—but she could see well enough to make her way around the once-majestic rooms.
Her footsteps echoed on the parquet floor of the entrance hall. Tripp whined once, and the sound seemed to bounce off every wall in the entire house, magnifying till it seemed like the rusty groan of the ghost who could so believably be a part of Eagle's Landing.
Though Maggie had lived by herself for three years, she couldn't recall ever being so totally alone. There was always someone nearby—a neighbor down the hall, a stranger on the street, a co-worker in the office. That was close enough; she was never ill at ease with her own company, and silence was one of her favorite sounds.
But this was different; for the first time in her life, the sense of loneliness overpowered her. It wasn't that she was afraid, for she was used to being on her own. But she knew exactly how Tripp must have felt today, closed up in a silent house, as solitary as if there was no other living being within reach.
And she was just as alone in her effort to save Eagle's Landing. No doubt there were people who would agree with her that the house should not be destroyed—but finding those people, rousing them, and inspiring them to action would be up to Maggie.
It all came back to her, for no one else seemed to be getting excited about Karr's plans-and by now half of Eagleton must have an inkling of what he was going to do.
Maybe Libby was right, and there were some buildings that couldn't be saved, some battles that couldn't be won. Eagle's Landing was too big for a single family, too small to be efficient as apartments. Perhaps it was simply unsuited to modern use. Perhaps Maggie was wasting her energy in trying—energy she didn't have to spare.
And if she tried and failed—if Karr got a hint of what she was doing—then it would all be lost, and nothing of Eagle's Landing would survive to be used again.
Maggie stood in the old kitchen for a while, watching the an
gle of the moonlight move slowly across the checkerboard tile floor.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
In the answering silence was a warmth, as if the house had said, I understand.
Then Maggie climbed the stairs and looked up Elliot Development once more in the telephone book, and dialed the number.
CHAPTER SIX
The office was closed, so Maggie left a message with the answering service operator, who said that she'd do her best to get a message to Mr. Elliot and added doubtfully that it might be morning before he called in.
"He's on a heavy date, no doubt," Maggie told Tripp as she put a salmon steak under the broiler.
While it cooked, she phoned Libby to tell her she'd decided not to pursue the historic preservation route after all, and they were still talking when a beep on the line told her she had another call waiting.
She told Libby goodbye and glanced at the clock. It had been only a matter of minutes; her salmon still wasn't done. "Perhaps I was a little unjust about Mr. Elliot's plans for the evening," she murmured as she clicked the button to take her second call.
Tripp snorted, and Maggie laughed.
"You sound as if you're having a good time," Karr said. "Are you in interesting company?"
Maggie reached down to pat the dog. "Of course. And you?"
"Now I am," he murmured. There was something different tonight about the husky edge Maggie had grown used to in his voice. It was every bit as sexy, and it could still send a little thrill up her spine, but…
"Maggie?" he said. "The answering service said you wanted me."
She realized what the change was; she was hearing the slight reverberation of a cellular phone. She wasted just an instant wondering where he was. "Yes, I did. I half-expected you'd be here waiting for me when I got home tonight."
"I considered it." He sounded lazy, as if he was stretched out on a lounge chair on a warm beach with his eyes closed and a cold drink in his hand. "But I decided I'd said everything there was to say, so I made other plans for my evening."
In the background, Maggie could hear the soft murmur of a feminine voice. Maybe she hadn't been so far wrong after all—she suspected Karr was quite capable of flirting on the phone with one woman while in the company of another. "Well, I'm sorry to upset your date."
"You'd better be. There's a steak coming off the grill in about two minutes, and I'm not letting it get cold. What's up?"
"I wanted to talk to you about my plans."
"Why right now? This morning you weren't too eager to chat."
"I've had all day to think about things. And I have a proposal for you."
Karr's voice warmed. "But this is so sudden, darling. Are you sure we know each other well enough? Oh, you don't mean that sort of proposal. Okay, shoot."
"There's no reason we can't make a deal. I don't have time right now to move, so—"
"I seem to recall you've said that before. Is there any particular reason I should listen more closely now?"
"I told you about the special project I'm working on. It just got more critical—"
"That is hardly my problem."
"Listen, Karr, I'm only giving you an explanation because you asked for one. The fact is, there's still the little matter of the thirty days' notice that I didn't get. My attorney says I've got an excellent case." Her conscience tingled a little at the exaggeration, but she ignored it. "So either we agree on some terms that let me stay here till I've finished that project, or I will fight eviction. But either way, I'm not moving out till my work's done."
"Perhaps it's escaped your notice, but I don't have to negotiate with you, Maggie."
"But if you're smart, you will. You see, if we have an agreement, I can relax and concentrate on work, and I'll be done in no more than three weeks."
"And what am I supposed to be doing for all that time?"
"Don't tell me there isn't plenty of work to be done around here before you can start building."
"Right—and that includes taking the roof down over your lovely head."
"It's only three weeks, Karr. I'm sure you can rearrange the schedule."
"I'm glad you know so much about my business. So far I don't see that I'm getting anything out of this little deal of yours."
"Of course you are. You're getting my cooperation."
"Maggie, you don't have a clue what the word means!"
"I promise that the moment my work is done, I'll move—quietly, with no hassle. And since I don't particularly like your townhouses or condos or apartments anyway, I'll find somewhere else to live, and you won't even have to put up with me for the rest of my lease, much less afterwards." There was a long moment of silence. Maggie's palms were damp; she rubbed them down the legs of her jeans. "Karr? Aren't you going to say anything?"
"I can't. I'm speechless with heartbreak that you didn't like Libby's townhouse."
"Don't change the subject."
"What do you mean? I'm not changing the subject!" He sounded indignant. "You're the one who brought up townhouses."
"And you know perfectly well that's not really what I'm talking about. If you don't agree to let me stay, I'll fight. My attorney's already doing the paperwork." Karr didn't know there was no flexibility in the deadline for the special issue, she reasoned, and added, "I must warn you, though. If I have to take time out for strategy sessions and court appearances, my work could drag out for—oh, six to eight weeks instead of only three."
"Or, if I'm particularly annoying, even longer?"
"I made no such threat," Maggie pointed out. "But I'd say that's entirely up to you. What about it? Is it a deal?"
"Let's start once more from the beginning, Margaret. I don't have to negotiate with you."
"Don't you have any sense of fair play? All I'm asking is essentially what you gave every other resident of Eagle's Landing—"
"Oh, no. You've already had—"
"They got a full month's notice. I got less than a week. All I want is the rest of my time, and I'm going to get it one way or the other, Karr."
He sighed. "Look, Maggie, I'll talk to you in the morning."
"Good. I'm very glad you're sensible enough to take some time to think it over."
A hint of laughter crept into his voice. "Oh, I didn't say I was going to think it over. But my steak's done now, and I did warn you that I'm not going to let it get cold. Talk to you tomorrow, sweetheart."
The telephone clicked in her ear. Well, Maggie thought, she'd done everything she could to be reasonable. It was up to Karr, now, to decide which way they would play out the game.
The lovely warmth of the day had continued into the evening, so Maggie had opened the windows beside her bed to let in the soft spring air. The fresh breeze flowing over her all night seemed to have washed away all her cares; she was just rousing from a last and most pleasant dream when a roar like a hundred race car engines ripped through the apartment.
She sat up straight, too nearly asleep to know whether she was hearing a dental drill, a fire alarm, a tornado siren… But as soon as consciousness returned, she recognized the sound. It was a chain saw, and it was up close and personal.
She leaped out of bed, shrieking as her bare feet hit the cold wood floor. Snug in her warm bed, she hadn't realized that overnight the temperature had dropped, and she could almost feel her veins constricting as cold air washed over her. Her white satin nightshirt was no protection at all.
But she didn't close the windows; instead, she leaned out to see what was going on.
She found herself almost face to face with a workman. He was standing in the bucket of a lift truck, half-hidden by the leaves of the huge old oak tree, his chainsaw idling. His eyes widened a little when he saw her, but he said, "Good morning, Ma'am," and touched two fingers politely to the brim of his hard hat. He raised the saw and the pitch of the chain saw deepened as it bit into the big branch closest to the house, the one which rubbed against the brick and soothed her to sleep sometimes.
Tree trimmi
ng, Maggie thought groggily. She wouldn't have expected that pruning the oak trees would be at the top of Karr's list of things which needed doing around Eagle's Landing. Why would he care about a branch bumping into a wall that he intended to tear down anyway?
Then logic dawned, and she shook her head in disgust as she remembered how carefully he'd studied her apartment the night she'd shared her pizza. He knew perfectly well that branch was right outside her bedroom window, and he'd no doubt considered the effect the noise of a chainsaw would have on his one unwelcome tenant at seven in the morning.
So much for her offer of a compromise. It was obvious Karr had made his decision, and it was going to be war.
Maggie decided she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of making a fuss. It wouldn't take long to trim up the offending branch, and as soon as the chainsaw stopped and she could hear herself think again, she'd call Chad and tell him to spare no effort in pursuing her case.
She stretched, yawned, and reached for the window to close it, only to see the workman standing still and staring at her, his eyes about to pop.
Maggie grabbed for the hemline of her white satin nightshirt. She'd forgotten that when she raised her arms the outfit was barely decent. Of course, on the top floor she didn't have a lot of trouble with window peekers.
"Be careful not to saw off your arm," she advised, and slammed the window, drawing the blinds tight.
The chain saw revved once more. Maggie pulled on a pair of jeans and a turtleneck sweater and retreated to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. A little caffeine would make it much easier to endure the morning.
Tripp scrambled out of his bed in the corner of the kitchen and went to the door, whining to go out.
Maggie regarded him with just a touch of frustration. The last thing she wanted to do right now was go downstairs and take the chance of running headlong into Karr.
"If it wasn't for the chainsaw," she told the dog, "you'd still be asleep, and going outside would be the last thing on your mind. So could this at least wait till I've had my coffee?"
Tripp seemed to consider that for a moment, then started whining even louder. He was beginning to sound like the chainsaw's twin, Maggie thought, and the last thing she needed was that sort of noise in stereo. She surrendered and got his leash.
The Only Man for Maggie Page 9
