Secrets and Lies

by N. C. Anderson

  Her car's headlights and thick billowing dirt gave the intruding car an eerie cast, causing her heart to feel as if it leaped to her throat. She snatched the four-inch hat pin that her mother insisted she must carry from her purse and shoved it into the seat leather under her knee within easy reach. “You show houses at all hours,” her mother had said. “You never know when you might need to protect yourself.” Being defenseless and mugged once was enough for Della. To ease her mother's mind, Selena had agreed.

  A man with a cap on his head ran around the other car and opened its rear door.

  Then, to Selena's surprise, Brian Logan stepped from the ghostly black limo and marched resolutely toward her.

  Chapter 6

  Seemingly, from the obstinate scowl on his face, Doctor Brian was not in a pleasant mood. He looked threatening in the power of his stride, and in the way his arms were swinging rigidly, forcing Selena to finger the pin's broad knob beneath her knee, then she relaxed, pulled it loose, and slipped the it back into the lining of her purse. It was easy to equate his loftier-than-life attitude with numerous doctors she'd met who loved to make nurses squirm under their demanding shouts. As he stomped his approach to the side of her car, it appeared certain he was going to start shouting.

  "Mrs. Flynn,” he greeted firmly.

  With his gray hair, perfectly combed, his suit and tie, impeccable, she should have realized he was too self-possessed to raise his voice. “Doctor Logan.” Selena opened the car door slightly to give herself enough light to see his face.

  "I see you've decided not to listen to my warning,” he said, jabbing one hand in his pant's pocket, some of his status quo slipping as he clenched his teeth. “I would like to give you one more chance, but I've come to realize you don't understand just how devoted I am to seeing the last of you.

  "Oh,” Selena said pleasantly, “you're definitely devoted, otherwise you wouldn't have my car half in a ditch and nearly decorating a fence.” She stared at him, not willing to acquaint Doctor Brian with how much he was intimidating her. “You haven't any right to threaten me. I'm not related to you, I don't work for you, and I won't be ordered around by you."

  He rested his weight on one hip, a gesture that reminded her of Logan, ignoring her words. “I offer you one of two choices, Mrs. Flynn. Either you stay away from my son, and I send affluent clients to your mother's business, making her a prosperous woman—or, I make certain neither of you sell another piece of real estate."

  He had the advantage of looking down on her. To eliminate it, Selena opened the door further and slid out of her car, standing between the door and the car, compelling him to straighten to see her. “At age thirty-four, Patrick isn't a child. Don't you believe he's wise enough to live his own life?"

  Doctor Brian propped his hands on the open car door, leaning forward. “You must realize,” he snapped, disregarding the exactness of her question. “Patrick has a career and a social status to maintain. For him to be seen with the likes of you would be detrimental to both.” Brian couldn't help but admire her backbone, especially after finding out Daniel had left her very little significant estate; however, he had left her enough securities to make it quite possible for her to invest substantially in other things. It didn't matter how much he found himself respecting Selena Flynn; she had to stay away from Patrick. Besides the money, with her intriguing spirit, Patrick was in danger. Her inept background would only cause his son pain. He leaned closer, touching her arm. “We have had a similar conversation before, remember?"

  She expected his hand to be cold, hard as nails, but it was warm, gentle. “How could I ever forget,” she said stiffly, pulling her arm out from under his hand, wishing she were taller than five-foot-two; even leaning as he was, he still looked down on her. “However, Doctor Logan, I'm no longer sixteen years old."

  "Perhaps not, but your moral values haven't improved through the years. And just because you married Daniel Flynn does not mean your being born to Valencia Cove's most pitiable family has changed."

  The pain of his words plowed ruthlessly into her heart. She wanted to slap him. To control her hands, she jammed them into her jeans’ pockets. “You wouldn't be referring to my mother would you?"

  "And your father. It won't improve your status to pretend you came from a sound heritage, Mrs. Flynn. If you have any feelings at all for Patrick, you won't do anything to ruin his life."

  She almost said: “I love Patrick, Doctor Logan. I've always loved him.” She hesitated, trying to gain control of her temper. The man didn't need to discover what her intimate feelings were; he wouldn't care about, or believe them anyway. “I would pit my moral values and the integrity of my family against yours any day."

  His laugh was far from humorous. “You would call that indiscreet little frolic with Patrick in the hot pool, moral?” He straightened his tie, adjusting his collar, slightly distracted by her frank gaze. “I realize Patrick needs some recreation from time to time, but I want you to make certain you aren't available to him anymore."

  Selena's throat felt like a sun-baked desert. “You were spying?” How could he have done that? She couldn't remember seeing any windows in the therapy room.

  "I've had a detective following you since you came to the office with Patrick's offer. I know exactly who you've seen and when you've slept and when you've eaten. I also have a list of your son's close friends, and I understand how important playing football is to him.” He leaned closer to her, not touching her this time, keeping his voice casual. “I don't suppose it would set much of an example for him to know what his mother's been doing. It wouldn't give him respect with his prominent friends, should they discover all about his mother's drunken, dirt-poor roots."

  Selena didn't want to listen to him anymore and climbed back in her car, grasping the steering wheel, hard. “There's nothing wrong with my roots, as you call them. And I won't allow you to say another word about my mother. I won't pretend to understand just why you believe your money makes you superior to everyone else, but your war is with me, not my son or my mother."

  Selena watched the lines in his forehead deepen as he looked hard at her, his chin set unyieldingly.

  "You need only comprehend that I will do whatever I must. If that means destroying your mother's business and driving you and what's left of your household out of this area, I'll manage it. It comes to this, Mrs. Flynn, you are the one to make the choice.” He pushed her car door closed, and withdrew a step. “I want an answer now, Mrs. Flynn. Either way, I start tomorrow."

  Selena returned his gaze as she twisted the key, and started her car. “Does your wife know about the string of secretaries you've been entertaining for the past—er—I believe Daniel said thirty years?"

  He smiled, but it wasn't in amusement. Damn, but she could be fast. “My wife wouldn't find any interest in what you would have to say, Mrs. Flynn."

  "Possibly,” Selena said, her tone soft. “Then again, maybe the rest of the Logan family would be interested.” Daniel had said most of the Logans wore blinders and knew nothing about Brian's indiscretions. She inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Maybe lots of people in Fresno and Clovis would be interested in your moral values."

  "So,” Doctor Brian said grimly. “You've decided that your mother, your son, and Patrick mean nothing to you. Your word against mine, Mrs. Flynn, is no contest."

  He spun away from her. She'd made her choice; now, he would get to work. “Too bad. Della McRae could have become a rich woman. You will be the one to live with your decision. I wonder,” he said over his shoulder. “How will you explain it to her?"

  "Daniel Flynn's word against yours is a contest,” she called out softly.

  Through the darkness it sounded as if he were laughing at her.

  "Ah,” he replied. “But Daniel Flynn is dead."

  "His journals aren't,” Selena muttered, watching Doctor Brian's chauffeur close the car door behind him. “And I inherited all of them.” Not that she would ever use them. Doctor L
ogan's lifestyle was his business. Still, there was no way she would give in to his demands. There was no way she could abandon her determination to understand Logan—not yet.

  Selena shoved the car into gear and drove for home. She didn't understand why Doctor Brian Logan hated her and her relatives. To her knowledge, they'd never done anything to him. Certainly, their years of being poor hadn't damaged the Logan clan. Yet, she remembered how he'd stood on her mother's porch, waving a check under her nose and behaving as if her very existence was somehow disgracing him.

  Well, if he launched his war tomorrow, she'd better get plenty of rest tonight. It didn't take a genius to recognize she would need every ounce of her energy to keep abreast of Doctor Brian Logan, whether she understood him or not.

  * * * *

  Saturday morning Selena's hip ached, and she tried not to hobble as she followed Mr. Marco into the master suite of his huge estate house. He'd walked her through the enormous stables first; so immaculate not even a spider web hung from the ceilings. When he'd shown her the tennis courts, she'd half expected a tennis pro to pop out and offer to give lessons. The house had twenty rooms, and he seemed determined she should walk through every one of them. Throughout the house, not so much as a magazine lay out of place, and they'd encountered two maids on their extensive trek.

  The room they entered now was immense. The hardwood floors glistened and the imported rugs didn't show a speck of dust. The custom-sized bed sat haughtily on a platform as if truly a reigning monarch.

  Mr. Marco stopped beside a large window near the bed. “Come look at this view,” he invited, and Selena came across the room to stand beside him.

  "It's quite beautiful,” she said as he positioned one of his hands on her back and the other caressed her cheek. Selena didn't care for the familiar way his hand rotated against her shoulder blade, and stepped away from him. It wasn't the first time he'd touched her on his nook-and-cranny safari. His hands seemed to have found their way to her shoulders or waist several times that morning. She'd had enough.

  "I thought I would list with you this morning, Mrs. Flynn. However, I think I'll wait a few more days.” His tone sounded dismissive enough for Selena.

  Relieved, she moved in the direction of the front entryway. “That's fine, Mr. Marco. When you decide what you want to do, just call our office.” He started after her. “You needn't show me out,” she told him. “I know my way.” She knew her way around the entire house, and she wasn't in the mood to speak with him any longer.

  "I'll call in a few days,” she heard Marco yell out as she hurried across the marble entryway and closed the ornate front door behind her. But, for some reason, she didn't believe him.

  It was noon when Selena finished with two other clients and arrived at the Realty office. The cherry-red car was sitting on its flag-decorated flatbed trailer with a crowd of people encircling it. Booths and cars filled the outer perimeter of the parking lot.

  The temperature in the shade was ninety-five. And because it would never suffice to have heat-stroked supporters, Selena had made certain the booths would have wide canvas roofing over them. She was happy to see people converging on all sides of the free ice-water wagon.

  She parked her Mercedes in front of the office just as a beaming Ellie hurried toward her, wearing a bright-red sundress and carrying a brown fabric bag under her arm.

  "I've made so many trips into the bank, I'm wearing a path in their marble floor,” Ellie said happily.

  "Have you any idea how well we're doing?” Selena stepped out of the car then shrugged out of her mint-green suit jacket.

  "Well, sixty-eight thousand dollars sounds pretty glorious to me, and we still have tomorrow. That, by the way, is just the ticket count. We won't know conclusive amounts for today's sale until tonight, after they've calculated the booth tills."

  "I want you to keep track of one other thing, Ellie. By tomorrow at the drawing, I want to know who sold the most tickets, and which booths donated the most money. We'll have special gifts for them."

  "I'm sure we have the information, Selena. Tina Reyes and her sister have been handling the phones and recording the ticket sales ever so carefully, so it'll be easy.” Ellie paused. “Are you going to announce our appreciation?"

  "I hope to come up with something better than that. I think Doctor Logan should be the one to do the appreciating. If you see him before I do, tell him I need to talk to him."

  "Okay. I'll check at the clinic in a few minutes,” Ellie said, moving in the direction of the bank. “He always spends his afternoons there on Saturdays."

  A man bumped into Selena as she turned to go into her office. He grabbed her upper arms to steady her. “Excuse me,” he said rapidly, his teeth flashing in a wide smile. “I didn't mean to knock you off your feet."

  The expensive clothing he wore clearly distinguished him as someone who didn't qualify to use Valencia Cove's clinic. “It's all right,” she said, and tried to back out from under his hands, but his grip tightened. “Nothing's damaged."

  He glanced toward the parking lot. “I'm here to help support Patrick's clinic.” He laughed, but Selena had no idea why. “It looks like a terrific turn out."

  Selena backed away further, forcing him to drop his hands from her arms. “Well, thank you for your interest,” Selena said, stemming the urge to rub where his fingers had dug into her skin. “I hope you have a good time.” All she wanted to do at the moment was hurry into the office and tell her mother about Doctor Brian's threats. “If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."

  The man stepped from the curb. “Oh, certainly,” he said. “I have people waiting for me."

  Weird seemed the only way to describe the experience, especially since it was the second man that day to have his hands on her in almost the same way. However, Selena didn't have time to reflect on it. She walked into the office, tossed her suit jacket and purse on her desk, and went looking for her mother.

  Selena found her, sitting in their office kitchen, sipping coffee over stacks of paperwork which she had spread out on the table before her.

  Della looked up as Selena entered. “It has begun,” Della said, sighing. “But we can handle it—I think."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "The Logans plan on getting us out of their hair, right?"

  "You already know about it?"

  Della smiled. “We need to talk, Selena. And I don't mean about today or yesterday. We can start with,” she said haltingly, counting her fingers. “Let's see, about September, sixteen years ago."

  Selena, wishing she had something stronger to drink, poured herself a cup of coffee. “I'm sorry, Mom. I was hoping you wouldn't get drawn into this."

  Della laid her pen down and sat back. “Don't be sorry. We're a family, and this time we'll tackle this business together. Regardless of the outcome, we'll have each other—as always."

  Selena ignored the “this time” for the moment as she paced back and forth beside the table. “What's happened?"

  "Sit with me, and I'll tell you. Then, you can tell me."

  Selena pulled out a chair and sat on it, listening.

  "We've had a strange shrinking and expanding of listings today. First of all, four clients came in at nine this morning, demanding to pull their listings. They'd heard we had unethical practices and wanted nothing more to do with us. Then, before they'd all left, a Mr. Duncan came in wanting us to list two executive houses in the Woodward area. He'd heard we were the best company in Fresno County. Two of the others who were still here, tried to contradict him, and he raged at them that they didn't know what they were talking about. The woman who'd recommended us stood highly regarded in the community, and he trusted her completely. They came back with, the man who gave them their information was one of Fresno's most upstanding citizens.” Della sipped her coffee. “I'm certain you know who they were referring to."

  Della lifted her pen with her free hand and tapped it against the table. “I'll be damned if I can
figure out who the woman must be."

  "I wished I'd been here to help you.” It sounded like a circus. Selena's third client that morning had had similar things to say, then, like Mr. Marco, he'd decided he needed to think it over. Selena cleared her throat. “Is that all?"

  "No,” Della said, tossing her pen back on the table. “An hour ago we listed three apartment complexes in Clovis. Again, we came highly recommended as the best company in the county."

  "Doctor Brian told me last night he intended to ruin us if I didn't stay away from Patrick."

  "I suspected as much. One night on our front porch, I heard my daughter tell a tactless, surly man, she didn't want his ten thousand dollars."

  Selena couldn't have felt more surprised. Her mother knew she'd dated Logan, knew when they'd broken it off, but they'd never really discussed what happened. “I didn't realize anyone knew about that.” Selena placed her elbows on the table between stacks of listings, resting her chin between her hands. “It all seems so long ago. All of our lives have changed—nothing is the same, yet, Doctor Brian hasn't changed."

  "I didn't think he had. I remember his powerful voice, Selena. I remember his telling you he'd give you the money if you'd never see his son again. I remember looking at the sheets we had for curtains, the thin trays we used for a table, and looking at your father who sat slumped, filthy, and dead drunk in his chair.” Della's eyes looked bittersweet. “Do you know what I almost did?"

  Selena shook her head, still trying to digest that her mother knew about Doctor Brian's attempt at buying her off and never said anything.

  "I almost ran out on that decomposed porch and begged you to take him up on his offer.” Della took a tissue from the box on the table and swiped at her eyes. She sniffled. “Then I heard you say you and Patrick weren't seeing each other anymore, and he might as well save his money."

  "It was the truth. Besides, I was busy keeping myself from punching a prominent citizen."