Читать книгу Loveknot - Marisa Carroll - Страница 11

“EVEN WITH the new contracts for replacement parts you just signed, we’re going to have to stop production before the new year,” Johnny Kelsey said, as he sat before the desk in Judson’s office. “I recommend shutting down the week before Christmas and New Year’s. Then we can call everyone back and keep going until possibly the middle of January. Maybe something will turn up by then.”

Alyssa watched her friend and former classmate closely. He’d been foreman at Ingalls F and M for years. He knew almost as much about the business as her father did. More than once Judson had wanted to promote him to a management position, but Johnny had always refused. He belonged on the plant floor, he’d say. And that was where he meant to stay.

“I agree,” Alyssa said, trying to hide the depression that was bearing down on her heart and mind. “If it isn’t a recession here, it’s trouble with European trade restrictions, or record harvests in South America pushing down the price of grain. The Russians…you name it. It makes American farmers wary of going any further into debt to buy new machinery.”

“Sales are soft,” Johnny agreed, leaning back in his chair. “That’s a fact of life. You’re going to have to lay off some people—that’s also a fact of life.”

“I’m not good at this, Johnny,” Alyssa said with a self-mocking smile. “I’m a whiz at planning Fourth of July parades and chairing fund-raising committees, but not running a business.”

“You’re doing a fine job.” Johnny returned to his earlier position, elbows resting on his legs, his big, work-scarred hands clasped between his knees. “But I think it’s best if the workers hear the news from the old man himself.”

Alyssa gave a rough little laugh. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“The folks down on the floor are worried by all the rumors of the Japanese trying to take over the place.”

“They’re not rumor, Johnny. You know that as well as I do. The Nitaka Corporation has made a formal offer for the plant.”

Johnny snorted in disgust. “Offer, my…butt. Sell to us or we’ll take you over by force. That’s not an offer, it’s a threat.”

“It’s business,” Alyssa reminded him wearily. “It’s the way things are done these days. The Japanese have the money and they want a bigger share of the agricultural industry.”

“If we just had six more months. Or a year,” Johnny said, shaking his head in agitation. “We could do it. We could hold on, get a chance to bid on some bigger contracts. Recapitalize.”

“That’s impossible and you know it,” Alyssa said sharply, remembering her embarrassment at having asked Edward Wocheck for a loan to do just that.

“A guy can dream, can’t he?” Johnny asked, smiling to lighten the mood.

“Yes, we can still dream.”

“It would help if your dad showed up here once in a while,” Johnny suggested. “Bad news like the layoff won’t be so hard to take if everyone sees Judson back to his old form.”

“I’d like nothing better myself.” Alyssa crossed the room and looked out the window, over the harvested fields to the dark line of trees in the distance that bordered the south end of the lake. She crossed her arms under her breasts and turned back to face her friend. It was time Johnny knew how badly the stress and uncertainty of the trial had undermined Judson’s well-being.

“He won’t come here, Johnny. He won’t even come out of his room unless Jeff or I insist.” Alyssa was very glad that her son, Jeff, and his new wife, Cece, had remained in the huge Victorian house with her, Judson and Amanda until they could find a place of their own. It helped to have these young, happy people living in the too-quiet house. “I’m worried about his health. And his…state of mind.”

“I know, Lyssa,” Johnny said, reverting to her childhood nickname. “I’m worried about him, too.” A tiny part of Alyssa’s brain that refused to ignore such things registered the fact that Johnny calling her Lyssa had none of the effect on her nervous system that Edward Wocheck’s use of the diminutive produced. “He won’t even see Tisha. She’s been crying on Anna’s shoulder almost every night since the trial ended.”

“I—I haven’t told him there’s been a second offer for the plant,” Alyssa confessed, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as though to ward off a sudden chill. “Have you had any luck finding out about this DEVCHECK Corporation?” She hadn’t told her father about being approached by the investment company. She felt guilty about it, but she wanted to hear what the representative of the firm had to say first…before she turned him down.

“No time,” Johnny said, glancing at his watch. “But we’re going to know soon enough. What time did you say the guy was supposed to be here?”

“At eleven. He’s late,” Alyssa said, frowning at the clock above the door.

“That clock’s five minutes fast,” Johnny reminded her. “So your dad could get where he was going on time. He hates to be late.”

Alyssa smiled. Johnny was right. Her smile faded away. These days all Judson could be persuaded to do was to shower and dress and make it downstairs for dinner.

The speaker on her desk beeped and the voice of Judson’s secretary of twenty-seven years, Adelia Fenton, came over the intercom. “A Mr. Devon Addison of DEVCHECK is here to see you, Mrs. Baron.”

“Devon Addison!” Alyssa’s blue eyes locked with Johnny’s.

“Devon Addison?” he repeated, as though he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Eddie Wocheck’s stepson?”

“So that’s what it stands for!”

“Devon and Wocheck,” Johnny said, punching his fist into the open palm of his other hand. “DEVCHECK.”

“I should have figured it out the moment I heard it,” Alyssa said, steepling her fingers in front of her mouth. She realized she was holding her breath and let it out in a whoosh. She moved back behind the desk and pushed the intercom button. “Show him in, Adelia,” she said, sounding as much as possible like the business executive she was not.

The door to the outer office opened and Devon Addison walked in. He was a tall young man, blond haired and gray eyed, devilishly handsome and with a smile that could melt harder hearts than Alyssa’s. Unless the women possessing those hearts were as angry as she was now.

“Good morning, Mr. Addison.” She held out her hand.

“Good morning, Mrs. Baron.” His handshake was firm and friendly.

“I’d like you to meet our foreman, Johnny Kelsey.”

“Nice to meet you,” Johnny said, but he didn’t sound as though he meant it.

“Likewise, Mr. Kelsey.” Devon’s easy smile remained in place. The two men shook hands briefly.

“Won’t you have a seat, Mr. Addison,” Alyssa said politely, but she didn’t return his smile.

“Thank you.” Devon sat down in the chair next to Johnny. Alyssa sat also, although she would have preferred to remain standing. The small advantage in height would have helped.

She came straight to the point. “Whom, exactly, are you representing this morning, Mr. Addison?”

“I wish you’d call me Devon,” he said with another easy smile.

Alyssa didn’t smile back.

“I’m here on behalf of my family and myself,” he began. “DEVCHECK is a privately held investment company. The major stockholders are my grandfather, my mother, myself and my stepfather.”

“Edward,” Alyssa said before she could stop herself.

“Yes.”

Alyssa was grateful to feel another energizing surge of anger course through her veins. So Edward was trying to take advantage of her father’s withdrawal from the world as everyone else was. What a fool she’d been to ask him for a loan the other day. What a fool she’d been to answer his questions about Ingalls F and M’s prospects for the winter. He hadn’t asked because he was concerned for the welfare of her company, or herself, he’d asked because he wanted more information about the difficulties they were in. And she’d given it to him, offered more, even, than he’d asked for. What a fool she was. What a blind, naive fool.

“I might as well tell you up front, Mr. Addison,” she said, leaning forward, both hands braced against the edge of the desk. “Ingalls F and M is not for sale. At any price.”

Devon’s smile disappeared. His gray eyes hardened and his jaw tightened. “I think you should hear me out first, Mrs. Baron.”

“It would be a waste of time.” Alyssa kept her gaze firmly on Devon’s face, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Johnny shift restlessly in his chair. He obviously wanted to hear what Devon’s proposal was.

“It would be…foolhardy not to listen to what I have to say.”

Alyssa bit her tongue to keep from saying what she wanted to. “Of course, you’re right, Mr. Addison,” she said, deliberately making herself relax back into her father’s big leather chair. “Please, go on.”

“I’m here to make you an offer for controlling interest in Ingalls F and M on very favorable terms. They’ve all been spelled out in detail in our original offer.”

“Our lawyers are still looking over the papers.” Alyssa was regaining her composure. After all, he was only one man, young enough to be her son. She’d sat in this office not once, but twice, with three very determined Japanese businessmen, and managed to keep them at bay. She could do the same with Devon Addison.

Devon wasn’t taken in by her diversionary tactic. “I’m sure you’ve already taken a look at them. I’m certain you also realize DEVCHECK’s plans for Ingalls are far more favorable, more in line with your own wishes for the future, than what Nitaka is offering.”

“That remains to be decided.” She should have known they would have seen a copy of the Nitaka offer. She wondered briefly where they’d gotten it. “At this moment, however, I can tell you that Ingalls F and M are not for sale.”

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” Devon said, still affably but with a hint of steel underlying his words. “If you don’t decide to deal with DEVCHECK—” he tapped the copy of the agreement he’d brought with him with the tip of his finger “—you’re going to end up dealing with the Japanese on a far less even playing field. The changes DEVCHECK plans to make will benefit the company and all of Tyler in the long run. The changes Nitaka plans to make…” He left the sentence unfinished. He didn’t have to say more. They both knew what he was talking about.

“Will you guarantee to keep all our people, at full wages and benefits?”

“I can’t guarantee there won’t be changes,” Devon said carefully. “Making the F and M profitable won’t be easy.”

“That’s what I thought. You’re wrong, Mr. Addison. Your offer isn’t so very different from Nitaka’s. They ended our discussion the same way. I’ll take everything you’ve said into consideration.” Alyssa stood up. She held out her hand, but couldn’t manage a smile. “Thank you for coming. I’ll let you know when I’ve made my decision.”

“I hope it’s the right one.” This time there was no hint of threat in his voice, but he added nothing to soften the impact of his words. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you. I hope we’ll see each other again. Mr. Kelsey.” He turned to shake Johnny’s hand, then left the office without looking back.

“Whew. He’s one tough cookie,” Johnny said, breaking the silence and the tension left behind by Devon’s exit.

“I can see why Edward places such confidence in him.” Alyssa continued staring at the closed door. “He’s very good at what he does.” She glanced over at her father’s most trusted employee and her companion since childhood. “But no amount of ‘friendly advice’ is going to make me change my mind. A threat is a threat, no matter how politely worded.”

Johnny chuckled. “And maybe Eddie is going to find he bit off just a little bit more than he can chew, trying to yank the rug out from under you and your dad?”

“Maybe.” Alyssa reached into the desk drawer for her purse, letting her anger sustain her, refusing to think any farther into the future than the next few minutes. “And maybe it’s also time Edward Wocheck heard the words straight from the horse’s mouth.”

* * *

“YOU’RE BACK earlier than I expected,” Edward said, looking up from the faxed reports lying on his desk in the former storage room he’d appropriated for his office. It was a bare-bones operation—desk, chair, telephone fax machine and not much else—but he didn’t mind. “How did it go?”

“Not quite as smoothly as I’d hoped,” Devon admitted. “By the way, Alyssa Baron is one foxy lady.”

“Yes, she is,” Edward said, as if it made no difference to him whatsoever. “A very foxy lady.”

“The kind of lady worth waiting for,” his stepson added, as if it made no difference whatsoever to him, either.

“Yes, she is.” Edward didn’t elaborate on the statement. He shuffled the papers he’d been reading into a stack and set them aside. “I take it she didn’t jump at our offer.”

Devon laughed a bit sheepishly. “You might say that. You didn’t tell me she can be a real ice queen when she sets her mind to it. I expected to rattle her pretty easily.”

“And?” Edward couldn’t help asking.

“She listened to what I had to say. Said she’d consider the offer and showed me the door.”

“She’s Judson Ingalls’s daughter, all right. It looks like I’ll have to speak to the lady myself.” Edward found he was looking forward to confronting Alyssa. They’d been no more than polite acquaintances since his return to Tyler. They’d seen each other infrequently, spoken rarely and never about themselves. With the exception of that one fleeting kiss at Christmas almost a year before, under the mistletoe, they hadn’t touched at all. He didn’t know what he wanted from a relationship with Alyssa Ingalls Baron. He only knew he wanted one. But before that could happen, there was business to conduct.

“I thought that’s what you might say,” Devon said as he rose from his chair. “Well, I’ve done what you asked of me. Now it’s your turn. You promised to show me the attic. I’d like to see if there’s anything of Margaret Ingalls’s still up there while the daylight’s good.”

“So that’s why you’re dressed that way,” Edward said, rising from his seat. Devon was wearing gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt from Columbia, his alma mater. “I thought maybe you were going to ask me to join you for a run.”

“Maybe later. Right now I want to play detective,” Devon said, only half-joking.

“I’ll show you the way. We rewired the attic when we were working on the lounge and reception area, but it’s still minimal lighting up there.”

“That’s what I figured. Sundown comes pretty early around here,” Devon commented as they left the office and headed for the out-of-the-way staircase that led to the attic.

“I told you the winters are long and cold.”

“And hardly a ski lift in sight.”

Edward glanced sharply at his stepson. Devon’s face was turned away, however, so he couldn’t tell if he was in earnest or pulling his leg. “You can always join your mother in Switzerland.”

The younger man shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, as Edward opened the inconspicuous attic door and snapped on the overhead light.

The stairway was a new addition, narrow and utilitarian, but safer and more convenient than the hidden staircase in Margaret Ingalls’s room, the only other access to the attic space. Edward would have to remember to tell Devon about it.

“For a few weeks over Christmas,” Devon went on. “If there isn’t anything else to do.” He grinned wickedly. “And if I can get the time off from my slave driver of a boss.” He started climbing the stairs.

“It might be arranged. If,” Edward went on, emphasizing the word slightly, “negotiations for Ingalls F and M are on schedule.”

“That’s a big if,” Devon said, arriving at the top of the steep flight of steps. “Maybe I’ll have a nervous collapse, so mother can whisk me away for some R and R on the slopes.”

“Don’t count on it,” Edward warned.

Devon laughed. “I won’t. Okay. Where do I start?”

“Good question.” Edward surveyed the flotsam and jetsam of three generations of Ingallses, their friends and relatives, piled along the walls and on the floor of the big, low-ceilinged room. “I believe those boxes and trunks over there—” he pointed across the way “—belonged to Margaret. At least that’s where the investigators spent most of their time.”

“We probably won’t find anything there,” Devon said thoughtfully. He roamed around the room, head bent slightly to accommodate the low ceiling, switching on the single bulbs that hung at intervals from the central beam as he went. “And this stuff? Kids’ toys and a tricycle, and this white-painted bedroom furniture? Do you think it was Alyssa’s?”

“Probably,” Edward said. “I was only the gardener’s son, you know. I don’t remember ever being allowed in any of the bedrooms.”

“I think I’m going to start here,” Devon said, making up his mind quickly, the way his mother so often did. “I bet this other dresser and chest of drawers belonged to Margaret, too. They don’t match the set, but they’re all together. I think if we’re going to find anything useful it would be in Margaret’s personal things, not the lodge files.”

“What makes you think that?”

Devon shrugged broad shoulders. “Just a hunch. Like I said, she sounds like Mom in a lot of ways. She loves to keep track of personal things, all her social triumphs and romantic conquests, as much as she hates keeping any other type of records. You know that.”

“I guess that’s as much of a reason to start looking over there as any. Good hunting,” Edward said as he prepared to head back downstairs.

“Thanks.” Devon pulled on a drawer that had swollen shut with moisture. “I’m going to need it.”

Edward closed the attic door behind him and headed across the lounge, back toward his office. He was surprised Devon had even considered not joining his mother in Switzerland for the ski season. He usually jumped at the chance to travel abroad. He was obviously more content in Tyler than Edward had ever thought possible for a child raised in Nikki and Arthur Addison’s milieu. But Devon had grown into a smart, savvy young man. He knew his own mind and used it. He wasn’t dazzled by the glitter of his mother’s crowd of seminoble European hangers-on. And he wasn’t fooled by Tyler’s sleepy, placid exterior, either. Below the glittering surface, his mother’s existence was essentially empty and sterile, while Tyler teemed with life.

Over all the years and throughout his travels, Edward had maintained a strong awareness of his roots. He hadn’t always been happy in Tyler as a boy, but he’d been a part of the greater whole, for better or worse. He wanted to be part of that community spirit once again. That was one of the reasons he was determined to control Ingalls F and M, although no one, not even Devon, knew it. There were other, more pressing reasons for attempting to buy Judson Ingalls’s failing company. Boyhood sentimentality need not be listed as one of them.

She was waiting for him when he walked into the lounge, and a part of him, deep down inside, was not surprised by her appearance.

“Alyssa,” he said, smiling automatically, a reflex learned in a hundred boardrooms over the past thirty years. “How nice to see you.”

“I’m not here to exchange pleasantries, Edward,” she said, not smiling at all, her blue eyes fierce with suppressed anger. “I want to talk. Business.”

“Fine,” he said, picking up the seriousness of her mood, and the animosity, as well. “But let’s do it over a drink or a cup of tea. Out here in the lounge. I’m not about to get into a shouting match with you in my office.” He smiled again. “Besides, it’s not big enough. It used to be a linen closet, I think.”

Alyssa almost smiled back. “What makes you think I won’t start shouting at you right here in the middle of the lounge?”

He looked down at her from the several-inch difference in heir heights. “Alyssa Ingalls Baron? Raise her voice in anger in a public place? I’ll never see it in my lifetime.”

This time she did smile, but reluctantly, as though she couldn’t help herself. “You’d be surprised what I might do these days, Edward Wocheck. Times have changed.”

“Why don’t you call me Eddie?” he asked, catching her off guard, as he hoped to do. “Everyone else from the old days does.”

Her smile faded away. She caught her lower lip between her teeth in the same nervous gesture he’d seen Liza use once or twice. “Because you aren’t Eddie Wocheck anymore.”

He didn’t want to talk about their past. They had been children then. They were adults now. “C’mon,” he said, taking her elbow in a grip she couldn’t break without drawing attention to the act. “I need a drink.” He steered her toward a small table tucked away in a shadowy corner beneath the massive staircase leading up to the second floor. “And we need to talk.”

“Business. Nothing else,” she said stubbornly, but with an undercurrent of real distress in her voice that he knew she didn’t want him to hear. Confronting him in this place was difficult enough for her, he suspected, without dealing with “what might have been” as well.

“Strictly business.” His voice was gruff. He couldn’t do anything about it. “Sit down,” he said, before she could take advantage of his letting go of her arm to run away. “What do you want to drink?”

“Tea,” she said automatically.

He caught himself almost smiling again. “Nothing stronger?”

She gave him back look for look. “Not if I’m going to have to match wits with you. You’ve got enough of an advantage already.”

He leaned both hands on the table, towering over her, dominating the small space around them. He inhaled deeply, her scent, the fragrance of her hair, the smell of cold, clean air that still lingered about her. “You underestimate yourself, Alyssa. You always did. I’ll give you one free piece of advice—don’t fall into that trap now. Your company is at stake.”

She had to tilt back her head to meet his eyes, and nodded very slightly. “I intend to do just that. But I still want just a cup of tea.” She folded her hands primly in front of her, the pale coral polish on her nails contrasting erotically with the creamy white linen of the tablecloth. Edward jerked upright, burying the wayward thought. He signaled to the barman. “My usual, Todd. And tea with sugar for the lady.” He sat down.

“Could I suggest the mulled cider instead, Mrs. Baron?” the barman asked, coming over to them. The bar was almost empty in the afternoon lull between lunch and the cocktail hour. “It’s excellent. The cider’s fresh-pressed, from the Hansen farm. And the spices are my special secret.”

“That does sound nice,” Alyssa said graciously. “I’ll have the cider.”

“I’ll still have Scotch,” Edward said. “See that we’re not disturbed, will you, Todd?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Wocheck.” The young man smiled at Alyssa and hurried away to do their bidding.

“You made his day.”

“Your staff is very well trained.”

“I know. How is your father?” he asked, catching her off guard once more with the personal query.

“He’s…not doing well. The trial was very hard on him. The verdict…wasn’t what he wished for.”

“Amanda did a hell of a job getting him off. Ethan Trask’s case was just about as foolproof as you could get when all you’ve got to go on is circumstantial evidence.”

“I’m aware of that,” Alyssa said. He saw a slight shudder pass through her, and he realized once more how important it was to all of them that they find out exactly what had transpired in this building the night of Margaret Ingalls’s murder.

“I couldn’t be prouder of Amanda,” Alyssa went on. Her face lightened for a moment, regained the luminous quality of her youth, and Edward felt his heart rate accelerate yet again. She looked up at the bartender, still smiling as he set a mug of steaming cider in front of her. “Thank you, Todd.” She remained silent for several moments after he left, and Edward watched as she lifted the cinnamon stick out of her drink and laid it on the coaster. She had lovely hands, made to hold a flower, soothe a child, make love to a man.

“I didn’t expect to see you here again so soon.” He took another swallow of Scotch, waiting for Alyssa to bring up the reason she’d sought him out.

She squared her shoulders. Her hands tightened around the glass mug and she lifted her blue eyes to his. Her lips firmed into a straight line. “I’m here to ask you, as an old friend—” she stumbled slightly on the last phrase “—to ask you to withdraw DEVCHECK’s offer to buy Ingalls F and M.”

“I can’t do that, Lyssa.”

“What do you mean, you can’t do that?” She was angry all over again. “You own the company. You can do anything you want.”

He shook his head, wishing he had another swallow of Scotch in his glass. Not for the alcohol content, but for the few moments’ delay it would give him in answering. What he said next would determine the course of the negotiations for the plant. Alyssa was a far more formidable opponent than her inexperience in the business world might lead a man to believe. Edward couldn’t help wondering what it would be like crossing swords with her in an all-out takeover battle. But he didn’t dare risk finding out. The last thing he wanted was an acrimonious business relationship with the woman he’d once loved more than anyone else in the world.

“It doesn’t work that way, Lyssa,” he said cautiously, feeling his way. She refused to look away, although her lower lip trembled slightly and her voice was husky with suppressed emotion.

“I’m not very good at this. You’ll have to explain it to me.”

Edward’s mind was suddenly blank. The only thing he could concentrate on was the curve of Alyssa’s mouth. He could remember nothing but the velvety softness of her lips, the taste of her skin, the scent of her hair when he’d kissed her under the mistletoe last Christmas. He wanted to kiss her again. Here and now. And that was the last thing he could afford to do.

It was Edward’s turn to be angry. Anger was an emotion he could control, that could be turned to his advantage. And it helped keep his mind off wanting Alyssa Ingalls Baron’s body far more than he wanted her father’s company.

“It’s cold, hard reality, Lyssa,” he said, standing up, asserting his dominance, both physically and mentally. “Ingalls F and M needs an infusion of capital. It needs a lot of money and it needs it now.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she said, refusing to give ground. “I made the mistake of asking you for a loan just a few days ago.”

“It was a mistake,” he agreed bluntly. “It would only postpone the inevitable and increase your liabilities. Waste my money and leave you so far in debt you’d never get out. What Ingalls needs to survive is clout. There’s no way you can get that on your own.”

“We’re doing business the way my father has for more than fifty years.”

“It isn’t the way to do business now,” he said, not pulling his punches. “The days of small, independent concerns like Ingalls F and M are gone, Lyssa, even if your father refuses to recognize the fact. I want to see the plant stay in Tyler. If Nitaka buys you out, they’ll move it south lock, stock and barrel. If DEVCHECK buys you out, the work and the jobs will stay here. I want to see a strong economic base in Tyler as much as you do. I want a labor pool of well-educated, stable residents to draw on for Timberlake.”

“But what’s in it for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What does DEVCHECK want with the F and M?”

“The same thing Nitaka does—a chance to get into the agriculture market, quickly and quietly. Ingalls isn’t the only small agri-manufacturer we’re looking at. But it’s the one I’m most interested in at the moment.”

“Some of your ideas make sense,” she admitted reluctantly, standing as well. “But they don’t make any difference.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I mean my father’s health and well-being are more important to me than anything else. And right now that means not giving him anything more to worry about. I’ve managed to hold off Nitaka these past months.” Her voice took on a note of challenge. “I can do the same with DEVCHECK. I told your stepson this morning and I’ll tell you now, to your face—Ingalls F and M is not for sale.”

Edward leaned his hands on the table. “Dammit, Lyssa. How in hell have you managed to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes the past forty years? Sweet, shy Alyssa. The truth is, next to your father, you’re the most bullheaded person I know.” He still couldn’t decide whether he was more angered or aroused by her stubborn insistence on going her own way.

One or two more people wandered into the bar area. Edward noticed them from the corner of his eye. It was time to leave. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said. He stepped back from the table, straightening the cuffs of his charcoal-gray jacket. “Someplace else. More private.”

“No,” Alyssa said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he said, holding her blue eyes steady with his own. “Private. And alone.”

* * *

“MRS. BARON. We meet again.”

Alyssa was still standing as if rooted to the spot. She watched Edward disappear through the French doors that led to his suite and wondered how in heaven’s name she had gotten herself into such an untenable position with him. Had his last words been a threat or an invitation?

“Mrs. Baron?”

Alyssa turned her head, blinking to focus on the man standing beside her. “Mr. Grover. How nice to see you again,” she said politely, her thoughts light-years removed from her surroundings.

What had ever made her think she could come out ahead in a duel of wits with Edward Wocheck? He’d sent her heart and her body into an uproar since she’d first become aware of him when they were both fourteen. Then they had been Eddie and Lyssa, Tyler High freshmen. He had been the gardener’s son and she’d been the pampered, sheltered daughter of the town’s most influential citizen. Today he was Edward Wocheck of the Addison Hotel chain, DEVCHECK and God knew how many other entities. And she was Alyssa Baron, widow, grandmother, professional volunteer, who’d suddenly been thrust into the front office of her father’s crippled business, where she had no desire to be. It wouldn’t be a duel, she thought with macabre humor as she forced herself to pay attention to Robert Grover’s meandering conversation. It would be a massacre, of Ingalls F and M and of her heart.

“Would you like another mug of cider?” Robert was asking, the frown between his bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows suggesting it wasn’t the first time he’d asked. “It’s not half-bad. Had one myself an hour or so ago, before I took my walk. It’d be better with a shot of rum in it, mind you, but my doctor said no alcohol. Or at least nothing but a glass or so of red wine a day, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s the same as none at all.”

“No, thank you, Mr. Grover,” she said, suddenly desperate to get away before Phil, or Edward’s stepson, or anyone else she knew, saw her there. “I really must be getting back to my office.”

“Oh.” The old man looked disappointed. “I was hoping you might have a few minutes to talk. About Timberlake,” he said with his toothy grin. “It’s sure changed, but a lot’s stayed the same. The fireplace, of course,” he went on, as if she hadn’t refused his offer. “And the view down to the lake. Furniture’s different, naturally, except for those big chairs out on the lawn.” He looked up and over his shoulder at the huge light fixture made of varnished deer, elk and moose antlers. “That chandelier wasn’t here in your mother’s day.”

Alyssa’s attention was finally caught. “No,” she said hesitantly, tempted by his tantalizing glimpses of Timberlake’s past, and remembering, reluctantly, her promise to Liza to talk to her mother’s old acquaintance if the opportunity arose. “It’s brand-new. I believe it was installed only a week or so ago.”

Robert waved her back to her seat at the table, and before she could object, signaled the barman for two more mugs of cider. “Your mother hated killing things,” he said. “She never came out here, she told me, if your father had a hunting party planned.”

“No. Mother liked music and dancing and lots of happy people around her. Not guns—” her voice wavered “—and killing. I do remember that.”

“She was a marvelous dancer. I’d just gotten out of the service when I first came here. Didn’t have a dime to my name. I was really out of my league with her crowd, but that didn’t seem to bother Margaret…” He was silent for a moment, then began talking again. “What times. What parties. The visits I made here that summer before your mother died—were some of the happiest of my life.”

“I remember very little,” Alyssa said. “I was quite small.”

“And your mother sent you to bed early in the evening. You didn’t like to go.” He laughed out loud. “I remember that about you, but I’m afraid not very much more.”

“That’s okay,” Alyssa said, smiling in response to his laughter. “I don’t remember you at all.”

“Why should you? Your mother had so many… friends.” His tone of voice was as jovial as before, but Alyssa felt a cold breath of uneasiness skate across her nerve endings. Too close, it warned, don’t get too close.

There was nothing but that momentary hesitation in his words to make Alyssa wonder if he meant more than he said, but she was afraid to ask. Her own internal barriers had dropped into place like steel bars across the doors of her mind. He kept on talking.

“Why, I remember once she decided everyone should go swimming in the lake. We were all wearing evening clothes—everyone dressed for dinner at Timberlake in those days. It didn’t matter to your mother. Everyone went into the water straight from the party. I remember I had borrowed a tuxedo. There was no way I could afford to replace it, but your mother pushed me off the dock herself. I went in arse over ears. If I remember right, I was voted the trophy for the biggest splash. I tried to be a good sport about it, but I worried all night about how in hell I was going to get enough money to replace the tuxedo. I shouldn’t have worried. The next afternoon, when I got back from playing tennis, there was my trophy. And with it a brand new tux, a gift from your mother. Yep,” he said, lifting one of the mugs of cider Alyssa hadn’t even noticed had been placed before them, “those were the days. Now drink up,” he ordered. “I know you’re busy. I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“No,” Alyssa said, taking a sip as he’d instructed her to do. “Please go on. I like hearing about the happy times you had out here. I—I like hearing about my mother.” She knew she ought to go, but remained captive to the twin bonds of curiosity about her mother’s life and her need to learn everything she could about her death.

Robert Grover didn’t have to be asked twice. He launched into another anecdote about Timberlake’s halcyon days, and Alyssa hung on his every word.

This was what she wanted and needed to hear—stories about happy days and happy times, not about death and desertion and unsolved mysteries. But strangely enough, his lighthearted memories didn’t soothe her misgivings about the past. Instead, oddly, they made her more confused and upset than before.