Phila was pleased with the reaction. “Ah hah. You have heard of it.”
“A troublemaking, anarchistic, radical left-wing fringe group that's always sticking its nose in where it doesn't belong,” Reed declared, stabbing at his asparagus. “Financed by a bunch of hypocritical do-gooders who don't have the sense to know they're nothing but Communist dupes.”
“Are you calling my parents hypocritical Communist dupes?” Phila asked very softly, more than ready for battle on this front.
Reed finally noticed the look in her eyes and muttered something under his breath. “I'm sorry about what happened to your folks, but you can't expect me to condone an outfit like that goddamned Freedom for the Future Foundation. They're all a bunch of wild-eyed crazies, and everyone with an ounce of common sense knows it.”
“I don't expect you to condone the foundation. That would be asking too much, given your ridiculously narrow-minded views, but I do expect you to show some respect for my parents. They died working for something they believed in, and I would think even a Lightfoot could appreciate that.”
“I'm sure Reed didn't mean to be unkind,” Hilary said in a soothing tone.
“Of course he didn't,” Eleanor confirmed. “Have some more asparagus, dear. Washington grown. It's excellent this time of year.”
Darren regarded Phila thoughtfully. “Did you travel with your parents when you were a child?”
“No, I stayed behind with Grandmother. The places my parents had to go on behalf of the foundation were usually dangerous.”
“I'm sure your parents meant well,” Nick said seriously. “But as far as I'm concerned, they had no business risking their necks all over the world when they had a daughter to raise. You should have been their first priority.”
Phila, who had often harbored similar disloyal thoughts in moments of great loneliness, began to get really angry. “They had a right to follow their consciences. If no one did, this world would be a much worse place to live in than it already is.”
“I agree with Nick,” Darren said unexpectedly. “Once you were born, your parents had an obligation to think of your future. Their first duty was to protect you, not a bunch of strangers.”
Victoria nodded, her dark eyes shadowed. “I think it's very sad that you were left alone in the world because your parents were out trying to save other people.”
“You're all speaking so piously on the subject because you don't happen to approve of the work my parents were doing. I'm sure if I'd said my father was in the armed forces and had got sent into dangerous trouble spots all over the world on behalf of the good old U.S. of A., you'd say it was his duty to go.”
Reed scowled. “That's a different matter entirely.”
“Talk about hypocritical reasoning.” Phila smiled triumphantly and pointed her fork straight down the table at Reed. The asparagus stalk on the end of the fork wavered in the air. “Your logic is totally messed up. My parents were doing what they saw as their duty. Just as if they were in the military.”
“There is one important difference,” Nick pointed out. “If your father had been in the military, chances are your mother would have been at home with you. You wouldn't have lost both parents.”
“Now you're saying that women shouldn't be allowed to serve in the military? I suppose you're one of those chauvinists who doesn't think women should serve in combat positions?” Phila made this point so emphatically that the piece of asparagus fell off the tines of her fork.
Phila glanced down at the green spear lying on the priceless antique lace and did the only thing she could think of to do. She snatched the stalk up off the tablecloth and popped it into her mouth. When she caught Nick's eye, she saw he was laughing silently at her. It was the same kind of laughter she saw in his eyes when she made love with him.
“I see no reason to put women into combat.” Nick sank his strong white teeth into a large chunk of crusty sourdough bread. “They're not cut out for it.”
“If you feel that way, I'm surprised you're so gung-ho about teaching me how to use a gun.”
“I have nothing against a woman being able to take care of herself,” Nick retorted.
Darren nodded soberly. “I taught Vicky to use a revolver a few years back. It's just common sense.”
“Nick is an excellent teacher,” Hilary murmured from the far end of the table. “He taught me how to use a gun the year we got married.”
A lot of the wind went out of Phila's sails at that point. The thought of Nick teaching Hilary anything was depressing. Hilary's simple remark had the effect of forcibly reminding Phila that the other woman had once shared the most intimate of relationships with Nick. When she glanced across the table she saw that Nick's expression had reverted to a hard, shuttered look. That irritated her.
She considered launching into a lecture on the evils of handguns but then remembered she was hardly in a position to make a fuss on the subject. But she couldn't resist one small comment, if only for the sake of form.
“If we had better gun-control legislation in this country, none of us would have to worry about learning how to use a gun for protection. There wouldn't be so many weapons floating around in the hands of criminals.”
“The world is a dangerous place,” Eleanor said serenely. “One must do what is necessary.” When everyone turned to glance at her she quickly summoned up her distracted smile. She looked down the length of the table at Reed. “By the way, I wanted to remind everyone about Darren's fund-raiser in Seattle at the end of the month. Not long now, hmmm? I'm sure we'll get a substantial turnout. Just the sort of thing we need to kick off the gubernatorial campaign.” She turned to look at Nick. “I do hope everyone will be there? So important to show a united family front, don't you think?”
There was a soft stillness around the table before Hilary said briskly, “I'm sure that whoever needs to be there will be there, Eleanor. We all want to see Darren's campaign get off to a strong start. Isn't that right, Reed?”
“Sure.” Reed did not look terribly interested, one way or the other.
Victoria looked anxiously at Nick. “What do you think about Darren's chances of being governor, Nick?”
“I think,” said Nick, picking up his wineglass, “that the Castletons and Lightfoots are businessmen, not politicians.”
There was a stark silence following that remark. Darren broke it with an easy smile. “I think you're definitely a businessman, Nick. And, to be truthful, a much better one than I am. But I think I can make a contribution in the realm of politics. I do have some ideas and some skills that can be useful in governing this state. Washington is one of the last frontiers and at the rate it's being discovered, we need to start managing our resources well. If we don't, we'll lose them the way California did.”
“It takes money to run for office,” Nick pointed out. “A lot of it.”
Darren nodded, meeting Nick's eyes squarely. “No one makes it into public office these days without the backing of family money. Everyone knows that.”
“That's certainly true,” Phila interjected spiritedly. “Certainly makes politics a game for the wealthy upper classes, doesn't it? Not much chance for another Abe Lincoln these days.”
Reed glowered at her. “If a man can't prove he can make a success of his own life, I don't want him running the country. How's he going to keep the economy strong if he doesn't even have any talent for managing his own finances?”
“Oh, for heaven's sake…” Phila began. But before she could continue, she realized that Nick and Darren were still contemplating each other very thoughtfully.
“In your case, Darren,” Nick murmured, ignoring Phila, “it wouldn't just be Castleton family money involved, would it? It would be C&L money.”
“Yes,” Darren agreed. “It would, wouldn't it? I prefer to think of it as an investment in our future as well as the state's future. Castletons and Lightfoots have a major stake in Washington and the Northwest. Our destinies are linked.”
“C&L wil
l survive, regardless of what happens politically in this state,” Nick stated.
Before Darren could argue, Victoria made a frantic stab at redirecting the conversation. “Well, I understand we're giving the townspeople a lot to talk about this summer,” she observed with false brightness.
“People will always talk,” Darren said with a shrug.
“You can't blame them for being curious under the circumstances,” Victoria persisted, sliding a sidelong glance at Phila.
Phila smiled back benignly. “The least you can do is give the good people of Port Claxton something to talk about, since you've apparently cut off the scholarship money and most of the contributions to local charities and civic-improvement projects.”
Everyone at the table turned to stare at her in astonishment.
“I believe we're ready for dessert,” Eleanor announced quickly. “I'll ring for Mrs. Atkins.” She picked up the silver bell beside her fork.
Bowls of fresh raspberries and cream arrived within minutes. In the subdued flurry of clearing dishes and serving dessert, Phila thought her last conversational gambit had been quashed. But she was wrong.
“What did you mean about cutting off scholarship and charity money?” Darren asked with a frown as Mrs. Atkins disappeared into the kitchen.
Phila swallowed a raspberry. “I recently had a very interesting chat with a nice young man who works in one of the grocery stores in town.”
“The Wilson kid,” Nick put in dryly, his eyes on Phila.
“He was complaining about a lack of charity handouts from us?” Hilary demanded.
Eleanor shook her head sadly. “People expect so much these days. There was a time when everyone had enough pride and gumption to stand on his own two feet.”
“You misunderstand,” Phila said smoothly. “He wasn't complaining. In fact, he admires you all tremendously. He even intends to vote for Darren, if he gets the chance. He merely commented on the fact that the Castletons and Lightfoots didn't seem to be taking as much of an interest in the town as they once did. I'm the one who's complaining about it.”
“What the hell have you got to complain about?” Reed demanded.
“Reed, please,” Eleanor said reprovingly.
“I think it's disgusting that people with as much money as you folks have don't pour a little of it back into the community,” Phila declared.
“We pour a shitload of it into a whole bunch of causes and organizations,” Reed retorted furiously. “Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Really, Reed. Your language.” Eleanor frowned at him.
“If you're talking about contributions to a lot of stupid ultraconservative lobbies and the campaigns of right-wing politicians, I've got news for you,” Phila said. “They don't count. Helping people is what counts.” She aimed her fork at Reed again. This time there was a raspberry on the end of it. “Scholarships for local kids who couldn't go on to college otherwise count. Books for libraries count. Educational-assistance programs for disadvantaged youngsters count. Food and housing programs for the homeless count.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” Reed exclaimed in exasperation. “She sounds like Nora. Nora was always having us give money to every fast-talking sharpie who showed up at the front gate with a sob story.”
“That's an exaggeration, Dad, and you know it.” Nick interrupted calmly. “Mom investigated each cause carefully. She only had us give to the ones she'd personally checked out.”
“You know what they say about money,” Phila murmured. “It's like manure. It doesn't do any good unless you spread it around.”
Nick studied the fork she was waving in the air. “Phila, are you going to eat that raspberry or throw it at one of us?”
Phila blinked. “I don't know. It's a toss-up.” But she redirected the fork toward her mouth and bit into the fruit. She glared across the table at Darren. “I suppose you're going to be one of those wrongheaded, right-wing, ultra-conservative Republican candidates?”
Darren grinned slowly, displaying the kind of charm that would undoubtedly carry him a long way on the campaign trail. “If I am, you can bet I'm not going to admit it here and now. I may be a Republican, but I'm not totally stupid.”
Phila blinked again and then burst out laughing. Darren joined her. After a second's hesitation, Reed started to chuckle. The chuckle turned into a roar of laughter that filled the room.
When Phila glanced at Nick, she saw that he was smiling to himself, looking quietly pleased.
Eleanor rang for the cheese tray.
Much later that night Phila lay sprawled on Nick's chest, her chin resting on her folded arms. She was feeling delicious and powerful and happy, having just finished duplicating the marvelous sensation she had experienced earlier that day on the beach. Nick threaded his fingers through her hair, his eyes gleaming in the shadows. His skin still glistened with the sweat of their recent lovemaking.
“Did you have fun showing off tonight at the dinner table, foxy lady?” he asked.
“Was I showing off?” She toyed with a lock of his crisp, curling chest hair. “I thought I was just participating in the conversation as required by proper etiquette.”
“You had Dad and Darren eating out of the palm of your hand by the end of the evening.”
“I think they just like to argue. They get off on it.”
“They certainly enjoyed arguing with you.”
“Hilary and Vicky and Eleanor weren't so excited about it.” Phila squirmed slightly, seeking a more comfortable position.
“They're not sure what to make of you yet. You're a threat. I think they understand that better than Dad and Darren.”
Phila frowned. “I'm not a threat.”
“Depends on your point of view. Stop wriggling like that. You're going to get me hard again and I'm too old to recuperate that fast. Right now I want to talk.”
Phila grinned, thoroughly delighted that she could make him react to her so quickly. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I have to go down to California for a couple of days.”
“California.” Phila stopped grinning. “Why?”
“I've got a business to run in Santa Barbara, remember? I've left a good man in charge, but there are some things only the boss can handle. I won't be gone long.”
“Oh.” It was funny how fast you could get used to having someone around, Phila thought bleakly. The little beach house was going to seem quite lonely without Nick.
“You sound disappointed,” Nick said.
“Don't look so thrilled with yourself.”
“Going to miss me?”
“Yes,” Phila admitted starkly.
“Good. Now you can start wriggling again.”
“She's a lot different from Crissie Masters, isn't she?” Darren observed as he came out of the bathroom. He was wearing only the bottom half of a pair of black silk pajamas. “Remember how Crissie used to raise everyone's hackles?”
“I remember.” Victoria lay back against the pillows and studied her husband. “But I think Phila's a lot more dangerous than Crissie was.”
“Why the hell do you say that?” Darren turned off the light and climbed into bed beside Victoria. He did not reach for her. Instead he folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.
“It was easy to tell what Crissie was after. She wanted to cause trouble, to punish this family for abandoning her all those years ago. She wanted to make certain we all paid for what she had been through. Remember how she taunted all of us every chance she got? But I can't tell what Phila wants.”
“I don't know what Phila wants, either, but I'll tell you one thing: Nick wants her. Bad.”
“You mean he wants those shares. Nick's up to something,” Victoria said quietly. “Eleanor thinks he'll get those shares back for us, but I wonder. Do you think he'd have the gall to seduce Phila into giving those shares to him instead of convincing her to give them back to you?”
“Nick's never been short of nerve.”
<
br /> Victoria was horrified. “For God's sake, Darren, we can't let him do that. Those are Castleton shares. They belong to us, and Nick knows that. Eleanor only called on him for help because she trusted him to do the right thing. She trusted him to get the shares back for us.”
“Even if he were planning to have Phila turn the shares over to him instead of us, you're assuming he can get her to do it. You can't be sure he can manage that. Phila strikes me as a woman who has a mind of her own.”
“Why else would he be sleeping with her unless he was seducing her into handing over the shares?” Victoria was impatient with Darren's lack of common sense. “Phila is not his type at all.”
“You think Hilary is more his type?” Darren inquired.
“In a way, yes. Oh, maybe temperamentally they're not perfectly suited and God knows I'll never be fond of the woman, but you have to admit she's got breeding and background and poise and all the things Nick should have in a wife. You wouldn't catch Hilary dropping a stalk of asparagus on the dining table in the middle of an argument.”
Darren grinned in the darkness. “No, probably not.”
“Darren,” Victoria said after a moment's thought, “if Nick did get those shares from Phila and if he used them together with the ones he inherited from his mother and his own block, would he have enough to take control of the company away from Hilary?”
Darren hesitated. “He'd need another large block.”
“Reed's?”
“That would do it. Or mine together with yours.”
“Nick will never get his hands on Reed's block,” Victoria said with certainty. “Reed would never back him in a move to unseat Hilary. Not after what he thinks Nick did to her three years ago.”
“What he thinks Nick did? You mean you don't believe the baby was Nick's?”
Victoria bit her lip, wishing she had not spoken. “Never mind. It doesn't matter now what happened. No point dredging up old news. It's the future we've got to think about. I'm worried, Darren. Your political chances depend on having the families back you both financially and by freeing you to run for office. Hilary's willing to do that on the Lightfoot side. Eleanor says we need her support.”
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