Eye of the Beholder

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Here’s the list, but there are no details concerning her connection to the resort project. All I have is an address for her here in Avalon.”

  “See if you can pin down her connection to the project. Find out if she was a supplier or a sub, will you?”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  “And, Glenda?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be discreet will you?”

  “I’m in PR, sir.” There was no hint of amusement in her words, only firm, professional assurance. “I am nothing if not discreet.”

  “Sorry. It’s just that I’d rather Vale didn’t find out that I’m questioning any of the names on his list.”

  “I understand. He might take offense. Artistic types can be temperamental.”

  “Yeah, just like us business types.”

  Glenda paused for a beat or two. Trask wondered if she was rerunning the conversation through her neatly organized brain to see if she was supposed to laugh. She evidently concluded that a polite chuckle was unnecessary because when she resumed speaking her inflection did not alter.

  “Ms. Chambers may not have had anything at all to do directly with the project,” she warned. “You know how the architect and design people are. They often use their invitation privileges for clients, friends, and relatives. Opening night receptions provide an opportunity to show off their work.”

  “I’m aware of that. Get back to me when you find out which category Ms. Chambers falls into.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Trask slowly put down the phone. He straightened away from the desk and walked across the thick carpet to the French doors.

  He twisted the ornate brass knob and stepped out onto the balcony. A warm breeze, as light as a woman’s silk scarf and infused with the clean scent of the desert, drifted over him.

  He wondered if Harry would have been pleased with the way the resort had turned out. He knew that he would get some answers here in Avalon but that would not be one of them.

  Nathan had come up with the design based on Harry’s original concept. The resort had been constructed on the bones of the old Avalon Mansion, which had been built in the 1930s by a retired mobster who had moved to Arizona after Prohibition was repealed.

  Nathan claimed the end result was a cross between Frank Lloyd Wright and the Spanish Colonial style. In Trask’s opinion it was a Hollywood fantasy straight out of a thirties film. Fine by him. He knew the power of a good fantasy.

  Down below, the hotel’s fancifully sculpted outdoor pool sparkled in the afternoon sun. Beyond lay the verdant green fairway of the Red Canyon Country Club’s twelfth hole. The frivolous luxuries of civilization were framed by the bleak, timeless elegance of the desert’s towering sandstone spires and rust-colored ramparts.

  After a lifetime spent in the cool, cloudy realm of the Pacific Northwest, the starkly surreal cliffs and canyons of Avalon should have felt alien to him, Trask thought. He had been completely unprepared for the impact the place had had on him when he arrived three days ago. He still could not understand why, at thirty-five, he suddenly found himself drawn to this science fiction landscape.

  He had not taken any pleasure in the scenery twelve years ago. On that occasion he had spent forty-eight hellish hours arranging his father’s funeral, sweating the future, and dealing with the guilt that had gnawed at his insides. The only emotions he had felt toward Avalon then had been rage.

  But this time it all seemed different somehow. It had started feeling that way the day he got into town—the day he met the woman with the crystal-gazing eyes at Avalon Point.

  Her image flickered through his mind again. He remembered the way her sleek, dark hair had curved just beneath her high cheekbones, saw again the distinctive line of her nose and the deep, steady watchfulness in her blue-green eyes.

  When she had walked away from him, there had been an unconscious sensuality in her stride that had made him think of full moons and scented, sultry bedrooms.

  She had not been wearing one of the turquoise and silver bracelets that half the town sported. As far as he could figure out, the lack of one indicated that she was not affiliated with the Dimensions Institute crowd.

  Then he thought about the fact that there had been another item of jewelry missing from her hand. A wedding ring.

  The disturbing sense of awareness that had whispered through him that afternoon at the Point returned.

  The skinny teenager with the big, anxious eyes had grown up. She’d been scared to death of him that night twelve years ago, but she’d hung on to the phone and ordered him out of Kenyon’s house with a gutsy determination that he had never forgotten.

  Thanks to the private investigator he had hired a few months ago, he now had a name to go with the face.

  Alexa Chambers.

  What the hell was she doing trying to sneak into his reception?

  6

  “I think that does it for Avalon Plaza’s segment of the Gallery Walk.” Alexa put down her pen and picked up her tea. “Anything else?”

  “I don’t think so.” Foster Radstone’s distinctive Dimensions bracelet, a unique, intricate design rendered in turquoise and silver, glinted when he reached for his own tea. “I don’t see any major conflicts. Things won’t really get into high gear at the Institute until after eight on Saturday night. Plenty of time for stragglers to drive out there to hear Webster speak and to see the fireworks.”

  “Is parking going to be a problem at the Institute?” Seated on the other side of the small Café Solstice table, Alexa closed the binder that contained her copies of the Avalon Spring Festival committee notes. “The officials are all saying that there will be more people in town for festival weekend this year than ever before.”

  Foster was unfazed. “We’ll manage. Plenty of room outside the gates for the overflow.”

  The green awning that overhung the café’s outdoor terrace reflected the warmth of the sun. It was getting late in the day. The lunch crowd had thinned out. It had been replaced by Avalon Plaza shoppers seeking a reviving cup of one of the many tea blends that were specially concocted by Stewart Lutton, the owner of Café Solstice.

  Alexa searched for an excuse to return to Elegant Relic. She did not relish the frequent meetings with Foster that had been required by her duties on the festival committee. She had not been keen on volunteering for the job in the first place, but her mother and Lloyd had talked her into it.

  “A good way to expand your circle of friends,” Vivien had said.

  “Great for making business contacts,” Lloyd had added.

  Alexa knew full well that what they’d both meant was that she might meet someone of the male persuasion and get herself a real, live date.

  Instead, she had wound up spending far too much time with Foster Radstone, the financial guru of the Dimensions Institute.

  Who could have foreseen that she would be forced to meet regularly with the only man in Avalon whom she actually had dated since her return?

  This experience would teach her to volunteer, she thought grimly.

  Business concluded, Foster lounged back in the spindly little metal chair and propped one ankle on the opposite knee. He showed no signs of preparing to rush off to meet one-on-one with the other committee members who were scattered around town. Instead he looked ready to spend the rest of the afternoon under Café Solstice’s awning.

  “Everything all set for the psychic fair?” Alexa asked, more for something to say than because she was genuinely interested.

  The fair, with its colorful collection of self-proclaimed psychics, crystal analyzers, aura readers, channelers, and mediums, was a popular part of the festival. Every year it drew thousands to the grounds of the Dimensions Institute, which provided space for the event.

  “We’ll have twice as many booths this year as last,” Foster said with complacent satisfaction. “Webster is pleased.”

  Alexa did not doubt that. As far as the Institute was concerned, anyone who attended the fair was a potential
customer for one or more of its seminars. For all its metaphysical pretensions, Dimensions was, at its core, a business. The Institute had been Avalon’s largest employer for years. When the new resort opened, Dimensions would take second place.

  “Next year the committee had better think about using shuttle buses to handle some of the traffic between downtown and the Institute,” Alexa said.

  Foster gave her an approving smile. “You’re absolutely right. Next year’s committee will have to consider the idea.”

  Alexa knew that she was supposed to feel warmed by Foster’s approving smile. But for some reason it made her want to grind her teeth.

  “Well, here’s to the end of committee meetings,” she said, raising her cup in a mock toast. “I, for one, can’t wait for this year’s festival to conclude.”

  “I know it’s been a lot of hard work, but I think it was just what you needed, Alexa. It was good for you to get involved.”

  As usual, Foster’s well-meant comments ruffled her feathers. She could not get past the sensation that she was being patronized.

  She reminded herself that it was only natural that Webster Bell’s acknowledged right-hand man came across as a self-confident fount of insight. What else could one expect from the number two man at a metaphysical retreat?

  In all fairness, Foster was the living embodiment of the sensitive, New Age male. He was also well educated. On their first date he had skillfully inserted into the conversation the fact that he held two academic degrees, one in philosophy and one in business.

  She refused to be impressed. Deep down inside she knew that she was just as smart as he was. Okay, maybe she was not as enlightened, but she was definitely just as smart.

  On their second date she had asked him why, with his academic leanings, he had gone into the assistant guru business. After they had gotten past her insensitive and unenlightened terminology, he had launched into a two-hour lecture on the importance of the search for spiritual meaning in the modern world.

  “Ultimately, I will be able to do more good working with the Dimensions Institute than I will ever be able to do in the academic or business world,” he’d concluded earnestly.

  Alexa had felt extremely shallow and unenlightened for about a day after that conversation. But she had gotten over it.

  In addition to all his other sterling qualities, Foster was good-looking. Maybe a little too good-looking, Alexa thought. Then again, she was probably just being picky.

  She had seen photos of Foster in the Institute’s brochures and, from time to time, in the Avalon Herald. The camera loved him. The pictures emphasized the burnished quality of his golden brown hair and the heroic line of his jaw. In person, however, his greatest feature was the overwhelmingly direct, I-am-deeply-interested-in-you expression in his amber eyes.

  Foster’s seminars were almost as popular as those of Webster Bell himself, especially among the female students.

  No one had been more surprised than Alexa when he had asked her to go to dinner with him shortly after she had dropped out of one of the Institute’s popular meditation seminars. But she had sensed from the start that a relationship with Foster would end the way all of her relationships ended: with a whimper, not a bang. She had been right.

  “Have you given any more thought to signing up for another seminar?” Foster asked.

  “No.”

  “I really think you would benefit from one of our intensive classes, Alexa.”

  “I know you mean well, but I’ve been very busy lately. Besides, that metaphysical stuff just isn’t for me.”

  “It’s for everyone.” He gave her a smile of gentle encouragement. “You didn’t give the program much of a chance, admit it.”

  “All right, so I quit after three weeks.”

  “It takes longer than that to begin to obtain the full effects, especially for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?”

  “I watched you while you were with us at the Institute. You have a long way to go, Alexa. You need to learn how to let yourself feel, how to live in the here-and-now, how to be free.”

  “Thanks, but I’m doing okay.”

  “But you could be doing better than okay. That’s my whole point.” Foster leaned forward. “You have the power within to set yourself free. Why not use it?”

  “Because I’m one of those poor, unlucky stiffs who work for a living.” Alexa glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, I’d better get back to the shop. Kerry will wonder what happened to me.”

  “All I ask is that you think about signing up for another guided meditation seminar. You need to open yourself up to the flow of positive energy. You’re missing so much in life because you’ve allowed the negative forces to enter your consciousness.”

  A large, dark shape blotted out the light. Awareness tingled through Alexa. She did not have to look up to know who stood there.

  “Am I interrupting anything?” Trask asked.

  “Speaking of negative forces,” Alexa murmured.

  “What was that?” He gave her a look of polite inquiry. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

  She looked up with a deliberately vague smile. “Have we met? Oh, yes, now I remember. Avalon Point. You’re involved with the new resort or something like that.”

  Amusement flickered in his green eyes. He gave her a small salute with the cup of coffee he held in one hand. “I can see I’m going to have to work on making a stronger first impression.”

  Alexa flushed. Fortunately, there was no need to come up with a brilliant rejoinder. Foster was on his feet, hand extended.

  “Foster Radstone. I’m with the Dimensions Institute. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

  “Trask. Like the lady said, I’m with Avalon Resorts.”

  Foster chuckled. “You mean you are Avalon Resorts. Welcome to Avalon, Trask. I take it you and Alexa know each other?”

  “We’ve met,” Trask said.

  Alexa tensed. The enigmatic expression in his eyes was worrisome. Did he recognize her or not? The suspense was maddening.

  She decided to take the initiative.

  “I was in a hurry to get home that day,” she said casually. “I don’t believe I gave you my name.”

  “No, you didn’t. You were distracted.”

  She frowned. “Distracted?”

  “You didn’t like the fact that I was on the wrong side of the guard rail, remember? Tell me, do you patrol that stretch of the road on a regular basis looking for tourists who don’t follow the rules?”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Foster’s startled stare. She set her jaw and refused to blush again.

  “I’m Alexa Chambers,” she said very firmly.

  Trask inclined his head. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Chambers. Again.”

  There was no flash of recognition in his expression, merely a cool, enigmatic amusement.

  She reminded herself to breathe. It was okay. Nothing to worry about. He had not yet made any connection between herself and Lloyd. He had been in town for several days now, and the Chambers name still meant nothing to him. She could relax.

  “Do you always follow the rules yourself, Ms. Chambers?” he asked.

  She certainly had until recently, she reflected. It occurred to her that before she had concocted the scheme to revive her dead-on-arrival career, she’d never had any real incentive to break rules. Contrary to her former therapist’s opinion, it wasn’t fear that had kept her from taking risks, she thought. It was the fact that, until now, there had been nothing she had wanted badly enough to warrant a walk on the wild side.

  “Unlike some people, I assume rules exist for a purpose,” she said.

  “Sure. To be broken.”

  “Fortunately not everyone holds the same opinion,” Alexa said through her teeth. “Like it or not, rules are the glue that holds a civilization together.”

  “I’m not in favor of breaking all the rules,” Trask said. “Just the ones that get in my way.”

  She
gave him a steely smile. “Tell me, do you find that there are a lot of rules that get in your way, Trask?”

  He shrugged. “I admit that, on the highway of life, I tend to ignore the occasional guard rail warning sign.”

  Foster glanced from Alexa to Trask and back again. He looked politely baffled. “Guess I’m missing the joke here. What’s this about guard rails and signs?”

  “Ms. Chambers happened to notice my Jeep at Avalon Point the day I arrived,” Trask said. “She saw me standing on the wrong side of the guard rail. Made her nervous.”

  “I see.”

  “Then I offered to give her a ride home.” Trask watched Alexa’s face. “But she said that she didn’t think it was safe to accept lifts from strangers.”

  Foster smiled expansively. “I think I get the picture. Obviously a little misunderstanding. So you stopped at the Point to admire the scenery? It’s pretty incredible, isn’t it?”

  “I wasn’t admiring the scenery,” Trask said.

  Alexa raised her brows. “I imagine our landscape must come as something of a shock after Seattle.”

  “It’s different.”

  Foster changed the subject with a diplomatic aplomb that Alexa could only admire.

  “Congratulations on the new hotel,” he said. “It’s going to be a major asset to Avalon.”

  Trask nodded. “Thanks. We’re pleased with it.”

  “You certainly chose the ideal time to open,” Foster enthused. “The Spring Festival is the big event of the year. The town will be filled with visitors.”

  “I think it will be a good launch,” Trask said. “The hotel officially opens to guests two days after the reception. We’re booked solid, not only for the festival, but for the next several months.”

  Foster nodded. “I’m not surprised. Avalon is becoming a major destination point in the Southwest. The positive energy of the vortices in this region make this a very special place.”

  “Generally speaking, I’m not into metaphysics.” Trask glanced at Alexa. “But I do believe in the old saying that what goes around, comes around.”

  “Interestingly enough,” Foster said, slipping into his pedantic mode, “that adage is based on ancient karmic doctrine which holds that all actions have consequences, not only in the material world but in the personal and metaphysical realms as well.”