The Sea Star

by Nash, Jean

  She kissed him again and laid her head on his chest. “That wasn’t a senile old man who was making love to me last night,” she murmured.

  “It wasn’t, was it?”

  She heard the smile in his voice.

  “Jay,” she said softly, “wouldn’t it be nice if our house was completed by autumn so that the child could be born there?”

  “Yes, it would.” His arms tightened around her. She felt his lips in her hair. “I wish,” he said slowly, “that Courtney could have been born in our home. I wish....”

  “What do you wish?” she urged.

  “I wish so many things,” he said quietly, and in his eyes there was a strange look of yearning and regret.

  “Like what, Jay?”

  The regretful look vanished. He hugged her, then bounded out of bed and donned his dressing gown. “Get up, lazybones!” he commanded. “I’m in the mood for a monumental breakfast.”

  Susanna reluctantly obeyed as Jay telephoned the restaurant. It had been so cozily warm in bed in the curve of her husband’s arms. She shivered as she slipped on her dressing gown and slippers.

  The monumental breakfast of marinated shad, poached eggs à la Mirabeau, potato fritters, and rib steak arrived. Jay immediately dug into it. Susanna rang for Nina. Moments later, the nursemaid brought in a sleepy Courtney, rubbing his eyes with his fists. As soon as he saw Jay, he came wide awake and launched into his newly expanded vocabulary.

  “Papa. Kiss. Mama. B’kf’st!”

  “Yes, Courtney, breakfast.” Jay took him on his lap, kissed him soundly, then fed him tidbits from his dish.

  “Jay, not the shad,” Susanna cautioned. “It’s too spicy.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “One little piece can’t hurt him. And look how he loves it. The boy has inborn good taste.”

  “Taste,” Courtney echoed, demanding more of the forbidden food. “Taste, Papa.”

  Jay gave him another tiny piece, then tempted him away from the shad by feeding him some eggs.

  “What a fine appetite you have! Courtney, you must eat well and get big and strong, because in the fall, you’re going to have a new brother or sister.”

  A soft gasp from Nina turned all eyes in her direction.

  “Nina, what’s wrong?” Susanna threw down her napkin and rose hastily. The girl had gone white as a sheet.

  “It’s nothing ma’am,” she whispered. “I was just a little surprised to hear about the new b-baby.”

  Jay rose and put Courtney in the seat vacated by Susanna. His eyes bore relentlessly into Nina’s as he approached her. It seemed to Susanna that he was asking the girl a question to which he already had the answer, and that the answer exceedingly displeased him.

  “Come now, Nina.” The gentleness of his tone was at variance with the hard set of his jaw. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She shook her head mutely. Her face was wretched with shame. Like a child caught misbehaving, she put her hands behind her back and stared at the floor.

  “Nina, you mustn’t be afraid,” Jay said kindly. “We’re all family here. No matter what’s troubling you, we’ll do everything in our power to help you.”

  “Sir, I can’t tell you,” she said miserably.

  “Of course you can.” Jay’s voice was low, persuasive. “Believe me, there’s nothing you can tell me that I haven’t heard before.”

  Nina’s gaze shifted to Susanna. Susanna looked at Jay. His expression was somber. Even more now, he seemed to know what the reluctant girl refused to reveal.

  “Nina,” he said quietly, “are you in the family way? Is that what you’re afraid to tell us?”

  “Yes!” she blurted and burst into tears. “Yes.”

  “And the father....”

  “Is Mr. Dallas,” she said, sobbing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Grainger. I never meant— I didn’t want— Merciful Virgin, my father’s going to disown me.”

  “Hush,” Jay soothed her. Susanna, in shock, wondered why his voice was so tranquil, when in his eyes there was a tempest. “Stop crying now, Nina. You don’t want to harm the baby, do you? Have you told Mr. Dallas?”

  “Yes, last night,” she said in a strangled voice, “but he said he couldn’t marry me because he owes Mr. Smith a lot of money, and if he doesn’t get it, he’s going to wind up dead. He said it’s better if the baby is born without a father than with a no-luck scapegrace like him. Mr. Grainger, what am I going to do? I can’t tell my father. It’ll break his heart.”

  Jay’s hands clenched into fists, but he only said gently, “Don’t worry about that at all, Nina. I’ll speak to George. And don’t worry about anything else. I’ll see to any arrangements that have to be made. Now go to your quarters and lie down. I’ll speak to you again after I talk to your father.”

  “But, sir, what about Courtney?”

  “We’ll take care of him. Go on now, get some rest.”

  With drooping shoulders, the girl left. Jay and Susanna returned to the table, where Courtney had made a proper mess of the linen cloth and himself. Susanna dampened a napkin and mopped his little face, glad of the distraction. She didn’t want to talk to Jay about Dallas. She knew Jay was angry. She could feel waves of restrained rage emanating from him. She was angry with Dallas, too. This was really the final straw. Not only had he gotten an innocent girl in trouble, but he was still stealing money from Charley Smith.

  Jay’s ominous silence finally got on her nerves. She took the baby on her lap and held on to him firmly to give herself courage. When she looked up at Jay, his expression alarmed her. She said in a breathless rush, “What are you thinking?”

  He didn’t answer at once. There was an odd look on his face, the same look as when he’d said, “I wish so many things.” What did he wish? He hadn’t told her. And what did those wishes have to do with Dallas, for it was Dallas, most definitely, about whom he was thinking.

  “This has got to stop,” he said at last. “Your brother can’t continue to wreak havoc with people’s lives—yours, Charley’s, and now that unfortunate girl’s.”

  “Jay, what can we do? We’ve tried being stern with him. We’ve given him money. Nothing changes him. He seems intent on destroying himself.”

  “And others, too,” Jay said darkly.

  “Maybe if I talk to him again....”

  “Talking is useless, Susanna. It’s time to take action.”

  “What kind of action?” she asked nervously.

  “I don’t know yet,” he said. “I’ll think of something.”

  Susanna shuddered to think of what that might be.

  A week later, Susanna received a black-bordered letter from Augusta.

  “Dearest,” the letter began, “It is with much sorrow that I inform you of the death of Ford’s beloved brother. Bobby was forty-three years old, too young to die, yet his last years were so filled with agony, both physical and spiritual, that there’s some comfort in the knowledge that he’s finally free of pain. The funeral was last week. I wanted to let you know about it, but Ford didn’t want Jay to be there. I’ve convinced him, though, to come with me to Atlantic City for Courtney’s birthday. I can hardly believe that in a few more weeks my grandson will be a year old.”

  Courtney’s birthday. Susanna had forgotten about it. Her mind had been so filled with Dallas and the poor girl he’d compromised that she hadn’t had time to think of anything else.

  She showed Jay the letter that night at dinner. He read it, his face impassive, then folded it and put it on the table.

  “I liked Bobby. I would have liked to pay my last respects to him. Leave it to Ford,” he added with a trace of bitterness, “to try to play God.”

  A vague memory tugged at Susanna’s thoughts. Someone else had said something to her about playing God, but she couldn’t recall who had said it or about whom it had been said.

  “Jay,” she said, remembering something else, “have you learned anything new about the murders?”

  “No,” he said. “Ian has some people w
orking on it, but nothing has turned up so far. I’m surprised Ford is coming here. The man has a consummate amount of brass to face me under the circumstances.”

  Loath to talk about Ford, Susanna brought up an equally disagreeable subject. “Have you talked to George about Nina?”

  “Yes. George was shocked, naturally, and furious with Dallas, but the important thing now is to see to Nina’s welfare. She wants to keep the baby, you know.”

  “Oh, of course she does!” Susanna said, aching for her. “But how can she?”

  “Nina’s going to live in Delaware with George’s sister. If she ever wants to return here, she can always use the fiction of having been married and widowed while she was away.”

  Susanna stared at her untouched dinner plate. Poor Nina, poor fatherless baby, poor misguided Dallas.

  “And my brother?” she asked reluctantly. “Have you decided what to do about him?”

  “I’ve talked to Charley Smith about buying Peter’s Beach.”

  “Buying it?”

  “Yes. Charley’s contract with Dallas leaves him free to sell both his own controlling interest and Dallas’s share. If Charley and I can come to terms, which I’m sure we can, I’m going to close down that firetrap once and for all.”

  “That’s a wonderful plan, Jay! If you only knew how much I worry every time I think of Dallas in that horrid place.”

  “I do know it, Susanna.”

  “Dallas will be all right now, I just feel it. Now he can—” She stopped and frowned. Now Dallas could do what?

  Anticipating her thoughts, Jay said, “Dallas can work at the Sea Star, where he belongs and where Colin can keep an eye on him. He won’t like the idea, but once the sale goes through, there won’t be a thing he can do about it.”

  “What about the money Dallas owes Charley?”

  “I’ll take care of that, Susanna, as soon as Dallas returns from Philadelphia.”

  “Philadelphia? What’s he doing there?”

  “Hiding, no doubt, waiting to hear that someone has cleaned up the mess he made.”

  “Jay, I’m sorry,” she said regretfully.

  “For what reason, Susanna?”

  “For all the trouble Dallas has caused you. For my mother if she is in league with Ford—which I cannot believe. The night you and I quarreled, you said you’d had nothing but ill luck since the day you met me. I think you were right.”

  He rose swiftly, drew her up from her chair, and took her in his arms. “Stop thinking about that night. Stop thinking about the terrible things I said to you. My God, don’t you know how much you mean to me? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I had nothing before I met you, nothing!”

  “Jay,” she whispered, her heart swelling with love.

  “If I ever lost you—” His arms crushed the breath from her lungs. “I’d be losing everything in the world that matters to me.”

  “Jay, you’ll never lose me, I promise you.”

  How easily she spoke those words to the man who ruled her heart. How sincerely she believed that she would never break that promise.

  Twenty-one

  On April second, the day before Courtney’s birthday, Ford and Augusta arrived in Atlantic City. All trace of the harsh winter had vanished. Trees were starting to bud. Jonquils, Spanish bluebells, and deliciously fragrant hyacinth swayed gracefully in flower beds lining bright green front lawns. The sky was pure blue, with not a trace of a cloud, and a great golden sun warmed the tangy sea air.

  As the Westons rode from the train station to the hotel in the Excelsior’s smart green and gilt brougham, Augusta said to her daughter, “How lovely the city looks! And how equally beautiful you’re looking, Susanna. Something tells me that something other than the weather has put the rosy glow in your cheeks.”

  “You’re right as usual,” Susanna laughed. “I’m going to have another child.”

  “Oh, my dearest!” Augusta hugged her, knocking both her hat and Susanna’s askew. “Ford, did you hear that?”

  Ford gave her a sober smile. “I did, my love.”

  “I hope it’s a girl,” Augusta gushed. “Sons are wonderful, but a daughter is an incomparable gift of God.”

  Susanna looked at Ford, unable to accept that this quiet, dignified man was a murderer. Even if he were, she refused to believe that her mother was in league with him. Augusta kept squeezing Susanna’s hand and smiling at her, but there was something forced about her gaiety, something not quite right. Perhaps, Susanna thought, Augusta was as apprehensive as she herself was about Ford and Jay coming face-to-face with each other.

  As if sensing her thoughts, Augusta said brightly, “How is that devilishly attractive son-in-law of mine? And why didn’t he come with you to meet us?”

  “Jay’s fine.” Susanna glanced at Ford, whose dark eyes were unreadable. “There was a problem at the hotel that he had to attend to, but he’s dining with us tonight. I know he’s looking forward to seeing you.”

  It astonished her that she could lie without a qualm. It astonished her even more when Augusta said, “Ford is quite looking forward to seeing Jay. Aren’t you, my dear?”

  Susanna stared at her mother. Augusta’s eyes implored Ford’s agreement. Susanna looked at Ford then, and froze. The face of Satan himself, standing guard at the gates of hell, could not have been more formidable than his.

  Dinner in the Excelsior’s elegant restaurant was an ordeal. After Ford and Jay exchanged strained, chilly greetings, Augusta chattered nonstop, mostly about Courtney. When she was done rhapsodizing about her grandson, she talked alternately to Ford and Jay, recalling past happy times, not so subtly trying to resurrect a friendship that was irrevocably dead.

  The more Augusta talked, the more uneasy Susanna became. Why didn’t she just keep quiet about the past? Why had she and Ford come at all? The tension between the two men was unendurable. Jay drank glass after glass of wine and hardly touched his food. Ford ate with dogged concentration, answering his wife in monosyllables, never looking at Jay. Susanna’s teeth were clenched so tightly that her jaw ached.

  Finally, over dessert, Augusta must have realized her cause was hopeless. She said to Susanna, “Who was that girl taking care of Courtney? I thought George’s daughter was his nursemaid.”

  “Nina’s spending some time with her aunt in Delaware,” Jay interjected smoothly. “The new girl is Colin Baxter’s cousin.”

  “I hope she’s qualified,” Augusta said dubiously. “She looks awfully young.”

  “She’s nineteen, Augusta,” Jay told her, “the same age as Nina. And she’s highly qualified, I assure you. She’s the eldest of eight children.”

  “Well, I suppose you know best, Jay. I don’t want to interfere.”

  “I know that,” Jay said with the closest expression to a smile Susanna had seen all evening. “You’re not an interfering woman, Augusta.”

  Augusta, too, smiled. “Oh, yes I am, Jay Grainger, and we both know it. But I thank you for being such a gentleman about it.”

  A sudden loud disturbance at the restaurant entrance caught Susanna’s attention. She looked in that direction and was dismayed to see Dallas, obviously drunk, trying noisily but vainly to push past the maître d’hôtel.

  “Oh, no,” she said, as all eyes in the restaurant turned toward the commotion.

  Jay rose, his face ominous. Susanna clutched at his sleeve. “Jay, please,” she implored him, “don’t—”

  He shook off her hand and started toward Dallas. At the same moment, Dallas broke free of his captor and walked unsteadily toward Jay. “There you are, you bloody son of a bitch!” he shouted. “I want a word with you.”

  Several waiters converged on him, then retreated when Jay waved them off.

  “We’ll talk outside,” Jay said as Dallas reached him. “And watch your language. There are ladies present.”

  “We’ll talk right here,” Dallas said with naked loathing. “I’d like your precious hotel guests to know just what kind of
man you are.”

  “Dallas!” Augusta said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Mama, are you here?” He peered at her through bloodshot eyes, made a useless attempt to smooth his disheveled attire, then gave her a clumsy bow. “How nice to see you.”

  “Get hold of yourself, sir,” she said firmly. “How dare you walk into a public place looking like that and using foul language? Now, do as Jay says. Leave the restaurant at once. And try to behave like a gentleman.”

  Susanna would have laughed had she not been so scared. Dallas may have been drunk, but there was a deadly sober menace in his eyes. Jay’s face, dark and still, was more murderous than she’d ever seen it. She was desperately frightened for both of them.

  “Ford, please,” she said swiftly, “go with them. Don’t let them be alone together.”

  Ford started to rise, but Dallas stopped him. “No one’s going anywhere,” he said in a slurred voice. “This family has too many secrets. For once, I’m bringing them out in the open.”

  “Dallas, you’d better shut up,” Jay threatened.

  A number of diners, some nervously, others disdainfully, rose to leave. Several waiters hovered near the table, waiting for a signal from Jay that never came. Susanna rose and went to Dallas, but he nudged her aside and said coldly to Jay, “I won’t shut up. I’m going to tell you exactly what I think of you. You’re a conniving, dishonorable dog, and the blackest day of my life was when I met you.”

  “Dallas, stop it, I beg you,” Susanna pleaded. “Let’s settle this elsewhere. Come upstairs to our suite.”

  “Never!” he said. “I’ll never again set foot under that man’s roof. And if you know what’s good for you, Sunny, you’ll take your son and run for your life.”

  “Dallas, by Christ,” Jay grated, “if you don’t shut your mouth—”