Eden bid them goodbye and went to the door. Aaliya’s aunt was on her heels and could not wait to close the door behind her.
Eden parked near her motel room and hurried to get in out of the cold. Her hand trembled as she put the key card in the door. The red light blinked several times. Goddamit, she thought. Do I have to go to the office and have the key remagnetized? She tried it again, more slowly, and this time the green light flashed.
She reached for the doorknob. Suddenly, she was aware of someone behind her. An arm encircled her and twisted the knob under her hand, pushing the door open. Even in the cold winter air she smelled cigarette smoke and the tang of sweat.
Eden cried out, as the man murmured, ‘Go in.’
She turned and saw, with a sickening thud in her heart, that it was Flynn Darby. ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded with more bravado than she felt.
He returned her frightened gaze impassively. ‘It’s cold out here,’ he said. ‘Go inside.’
‘We weren’t supposed to meet here,’ Eden insisted, resisting his efforts to direct her through the door and into her room. She looked around. There was not another soul in sight in this section of the suites.
‘Plans have changed,’ Flynn said. ‘I’m here now. And I want to go inside.’
Eden shrank from his touch, and put her key back in her coat pocket. She avoided his gaze as she entered the room, instantly turning on the lights. Flynn followed her closely, and turned to lock the door behind them once they were both in the room.
Eden took her bag and hurried over to the desk near the window. She set her bag on the desk and fished frantically for her phone in the front pocket, extracting it and slipping it into her jacket pocket.
Flynn sat down heavily on the sofa. Eden pulled the chair out from the desk and sat down in it.
‘Take your coat off,’ he said.
‘I’m fine this way,’ said Eden.
Flynn shrugged. ‘It’s warm in here,’ he said.
‘Not that warm. Look, I haven’t really organized my thoughts about the opening of the book, and I really would prefer it if you would call me and not just show up like this,’ she said, sounding prim to her own ears.
Flynn leaned forward, rubbing his palms on the ripped knees of his jeans. Then he sat up and twisted his back, first one way and then the other. Finally, he looked directly at Eden. ‘Let’s talk about what I would prefer,’ he said.
Eden’s heart was hammering in her chest. She shook her head, but did not reply.
‘I would prefer,’ he said, ‘if you would stay the hell out of my business.’
Eden’s heart jumped, but she forced herself to keep her expression composed. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘That’s going to be a little difficult since I’m your editor.’
Flynn stared at her. He was disheveled as always. His clothes were rumpled, and his thick, blond hair stood out like a grimy halo around his unshaven face. But his blue eyes were piercing, as if he saw right through her. ‘Don’t fuck with me,’ he said quietly. ‘You know what I’m talking about!’
Eden jumped, and angry tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I don’t,’ she insisted. ‘Stop threatening me.’
Her exhortation for him to stop threatening seemed to spur Flynn on. He raised his voice. ‘You’ve been asking people questions about me. Things that are none of your business. I know you talked to those insurance dicks. And the police. And Dr Tanaka. And Lizzy. Did I skip anyone?’ he cried, red in the face.
Eden stared at him, trying to keep her expression blank. Marguerite, she was thinking. Aaliya. And who was the other woman that Marguerite saw you with? Were you cheating on my mother? Did my mother know it? Was that why she was suicidal?
Suddenly, there was a pounding on the door of the suite. ‘Eden,’ demanded a man’s voice. ‘Are you okay in there?’
‘She’s fine,’ Flynn shouted back at the door.
The pounding came again. ‘Eden? It’s Andy.’
‘Who the fuck is Andy?’ Flynn demanded.
Eden went to the door and opened it. Her neighbor stood on the doorstep, scowling.
‘I thought I heard yelling,’ he said. ‘Everything okay?’
Eden managed a smile. ‘It’s okay, Andy. I’m fine.’
Andy stuck his head into the room and saw Flynn sprawled on the sofa. Andy greeted this intruder with a glare. ‘Who’s he?’ he demanded, as if he and Eden had been neighbors all their lives.
‘It’s a long story,’ Eden said. ‘He used to be my stepfather.’
‘Well he sounds like a bully,’ said Andy.
‘Mind your own business, Grandpa,’ Flynn said.
‘Mind your manners,’ Andy retorted. ‘Are you sure you’re okay, Eden?’
‘It’s all right,’ said Eden. ‘Thanks for your concern, though.’
Andy shook his head, and shot Flynn another dirty look before retreating.
Eden returned to the living room and sat down in a chair opposite Flynn.
His flashing eyes narrowed, and his contempt for her was written on his face.
He pointed a tobacco-stained finger at her. ‘You came here supposedly to work on my book. Instead, you’re rummaging around in things that are none of your business.’ He shook his head. ‘I knew this was a mistake. I should never have agreed to it.’
‘To what?’
‘To letting you have anything to do with this book.’
‘Oh, now you’re sorry?’ Eden demanded. ‘It was your idea to have me work on the book.’
‘Not true. I was stupid enough to mention you to Gideon Lendl. After that, it was out of my hands.’
‘Good to know,’ said Eden coldly.
‘Why are you trying to dredge up something the police or the insurance company can hold against me? Your mother committed suicide, and took our son with her. It sounds like you want me to be blamed for that.’
‘I don’t believe she killed herself,’ said Eden.
Flynn looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘She died from carbon monoxide poisoning. Your mother left the car idling in the garage all night. She left a note. What else do you need to make you believe it?’
‘She wouldn’t have left Jeremy alone in his room,’ said Eden defiantly.
‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded.
‘She wouldn’t have done that,’ said Eden. ‘She would have stayed with him. If you knew her so well, you would have realized that.’
Flynn gaped at her. ‘That’s it? That’s your reason?’
‘She was my mother. I know that much about her.’
Flynn lifted his chin and stared out past Eden into the dreary little courtyard. Snow flurries had begun, landing gray on the ground. Eden could see that he was thinking, as if he were considering what she had said. Then he shook his head. ‘That means nothing. Obviously, she was out of her mind when she did it,’ he said dismissively.
‘And anybody could have written that note,’ Eden persisted. ‘Even you.’
Flynn sighed. ‘You know, I can see why the insurance company is rooting around, trying to find a way not to have to pay up. But what’s in it for you? What the fuck is your problem? A little belated guilt, maybe, that you treated her so bad? Now you’re going to come to her rescue? Now that she’s dead? When she was alive you were selfish and rotten to her.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Eden.
‘I know that when she called you, you rarely bothered to answer. It used to make her cry,’ said Flynn. ‘You never cared how much you hurt her. You wanted to hurt her.’
Eden wanted to protest, but it was impossible to contradict him.
‘I made her happy,’ he insisted.
‘Some happiness,’ said Eden bitterly.
Flynn glared at her, and then looked away. ‘More than you know,’ he said.
‘Well, if she was so damn happy …’ said Eden, ‘why kill herself?’
Flynn squeezed his hands into fists. Then he shook his head. ‘I can’t talk to you.
When I look at you, I see someone who made her suffer. Who enjoyed making her suffer.’
What about me and my father? Eden wanted to protest. What about our suffering? But she could not force herself to say the words. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Flynn stood up. ‘Anyway, I came here for a reason. This little experiment has obviously been a mistake and it’s time we called a halt to it. So, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to call Gideon Lendl and tell him this is not working out. I won’t tell them that you’re busy going around trying to dig up dirt on my life unless they give me a hard time. I’ll tell him I want a new publisher.’
A new publisher. Eden’s face flamed, thinking of how angry Maurice DeLaurier would be. How disappointed Rob would be with the loss.
‘You could have another editor at DeLaurier if you want,’ she offered weakly. ‘They really do believe in the book.’
‘Nope. A clean break, I think.’
Eden felt sick to her stomach. She would have to endure the humiliation of being rejected by her own author, and take responsibility for the loss to the house of an important book. Hell, she would probably lose her job. They had entrusted her with this opportunity, and she blew it. She knew she should cajole him, plead with him. But there was no way on earth she was going to do that. ‘Do what you have to do,’ she said, avoiding his gaze.
‘I will,’ he said coldly.
Before Eden could reply, he was gone.
SIXTEEN
Eden followed Flynn to the door and slammed it, locking it behind him. Then she crept over to the couch and curled up in the corner, pulling an extra blanket from the hall closet around her. She was shivering from head to toe, though the room was warm. There was a part of her that wanted to cry. And a part of her that refused to. For years she had been working and hoping for this job, and now she was going to lose it. The man who had wrecked her family was now going to wreck her future. For a minute she hoped that he would reconsider. That he wouldn’t do it. But he had really left no room for doubt.
She looked around the desolate room. It wasn’t as if she liked it here.
In a way, she thought, she would be glad to leave here. She was anxious to see her father again. She could hardly wait to return to New York, her apartment, her job, for however long she would have it, and her friends. The life she understood. She would never, for a minute, miss this dreary town, and all the unhappiness she had encountered here. She set her phone down on the coffee table, expecting it to ring. Realistically, she knew it would take a day or so. Gideon Lendl would try to talk Flynn out of this drastic move. It was the sort of professional tantrum which gave authors a bad reputation. But Flynn would not listen to his agent. Eden felt pretty certain of that. Then there would be conferences between the Lendl agency and DeLaurier Publishing. At the earliest, someone would call her tomorrow. She could be relieved of her job by tomorrow night.
At least you can go back to New York, she told herself, no matter what happens. Get up. Get your stuff packed up. You’re leaving this place. She forced herself to her feet. If there was a silver lining, she thought, as she pulled her suitcase out of the closet and opened it on her bed, it was this. She would never have to tell her father that she had come out here to work on Flynn’s book. It would no longer be a factor in their lives, and for that reason alone she was glad to have this over with. If she lost her job, and it seemed that she would, she would make up some excuse so that her father would never have to know how it involved Flynn Darby.
She opened the suitcase and began to put a few things into it which she would not need again until she got home. Her gaze fell on the cardboard box of her mother’s things which Flynn had pushed onto her the day she was at the house. She hadn’t even opened it yet. She needed to open it, and discard anything she didn’t really want to bring back with her. No point in paying for extra luggage if she didn’t need to. She unfolded the flaps of the box and coughed at the mold and cigarette smoke which seemed to rise in a cloud as she opened it. She hated to even look inside. Putting a hand into the box, to sift through it, she riffled through a haphazard pile of photos and mementoes. Photos of herself as a child. Photos of the three of them when Eden was young. A laminated Mother’s Day card which six-year-old Eden had crayoned with stick figures, sunshine and flowers. Square white gift boxes, now stained with age, of jewelry which she and her father had given Tara over the years. Programs from class trips to the aquarium when Tara had chaperoned, and concerts when Eden had sung in the choir.
Flynn had clearly tossed this accumulation into the box without a second glance. She thought about sitting down on the floor and taking out each item. Gazing at it. Making a decision. Then she shook her head. She couldn’t possibly do it. Not tonight. She felt slightly nauseous at the thought. This would have to wait until she was back home.
She refolded the flaps of the box and pushed it away from her. If it cost extra to ship it home, so be it. She would take it to a UPS office tomorrow and have them pack it up for her. She would deal with it on some future rainy day.
A sudden knock at the door made her jump. ‘Eden, it’s Andy again. From next door.’
Relieved, Eden got up, walked to the door and opened it with the chain still on.
‘Did your friend leave?’ he said.
‘He’s no friend,’ said Eden. ‘He’s my stepfather. No love lost there …’
‘I got that impression. Well, at that strip mall down the street there’s a Chinese restaurant that’s not bad. Do you eat Chinese food?’
‘I do. I like Chinese food,’ she said.
‘Why don’t you get your coat on and we’ll walk down there and have a bite. If you don’t have other plans,’ he added politely.
Eden hesitated. She really didn’t know this man and wasn’t feeling particularly sociable. ‘I’m kind of a mess,’ she said.
‘Doesn’t matter. Just some fried rice. And tea. And sympathy.’
Eden smiled, recognizing the name of a film her parents had liked, long ago. Tea and Sympathy. She hesitated, and then made up her mind. ‘All right. Why not,’ she said.
They walked along quickly, spurred on by the cold. It was only about four blocks, but the winds from Lake Erie cut right through Eden’s coat. The restaurant was narrow and three-quarters filled with people. The waiter smiled broadly at his friend, Mistah Andy, as he called him, and promptly brought over a steaming pot of tea. Andy poured. ‘The usual, my good man,’ he said. ‘And the lady will have …’
Eden gave her order. The waiter nodded and withdrew.
Andy blew into his hands. ‘That chills the bones,’ he said.
Eden warmed her hands over the small, steaming cup. ‘Kind of wakes you up, walking over here,’ she admitted. ‘But this feels better.’
Andy nodded. ‘There’s no Chinese restaurants where I live,’ he said. ‘But I got a taste for it, being on the road so much. Where we’re from the Red Lobster is about as exotic as it gets. But my wife always says Indiana is the best place on earth, and I guess it sort of is.’
‘It must be nice to feel that way about the place you live,’ said Eden.
Andy nodded. ‘Although I have a feeling I’m gonna miss the road when I retire. I’m used to moving around. Trying different things. Meeting new people. Where are you from, Eden?’
‘New York,’ she said. ‘I grew up there.’
‘The big city,’ Andy said. ‘So, you’re here because your mother lives here?’
‘My mother died here. Not too long ago,’ said Eden, and, to her embarrassment, her eyes filled with tears.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Andy sincerely.
Eden nodded and dabbed at her eyes with a paper napkin.
‘If you don’t mind my saying so, that stepfather of yours seems like bad news.’
‘Frankly,’ said Eden, ‘I sometimes think he might be responsible for my mother’s death.’
Andy’s eyes widened. ‘Really? How so?’
Immediately, Eden sensed
his keen interest, and felt as if she had said too much to this stranger, no matter how kind a stranger he might be. ‘The police don’t think so. It’s probably just me,’ she said vaguely.
‘The police!’ Andy yelped. ‘What happened to your mother?’
Eden shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t talk about it. Suffice it to say that Flynn Darby is someone I really, really dislike.’
‘Well, from what little I saw,’ said Andy indignantly, ‘I’d say you have good reason. If he ever comes by to bother you again, you let me know, okay?’
Eden sniffed, and nodded. ‘Thanks. That’s very nice of you.’ She dabbed at her eyes again. The waiter arrived with mustard sauce, duck sauce and crispy noodles.
‘Here, have some of this,’ said Andy pleasantly. ‘This’ll make your eyes water in a good way.’
They chatted amiably through dinner, and split the check. Andy talked most of the time about his family, which Eden found pleasant and reassuring. She told him about her job as a book editor, without mentioning that her job might soon be over, or about Flynn’s role in that outcome. Instead, they had a lively discussion of best-sellers. Andy proved to be quite a voracious reader. They compared favorite books and favorite authors, and by the time they walked back through the cold Eden’s faith in humanity felt somewhat restored. He said goodnight and left her at her room, after she had checked inside and reassured him that all was well. Eden closed the door behind him, and exhaled. She went and sat down on the couch, and pulled her phone from her purse. She had heard the message signal a few times, but had not wanted to be rude by interrupting their dinner to answer it.
The first message was from her father. ‘Eden, it’s Dad. How are you doing? Did those insurance people get in touch with you? What did they want? Let me know when you’re coming home.’
The second message was from Jasmine, also wondering when she was coming back. ‘Vince from the Brisbane has asked me twice.’
Eden felt rather flattered by that nugget of news. Obviously, Vince and Jasmine were not an item. Maybe he was interested in Eden after all. She didn’t know too much about him, but she liked what she knew. She liked his looks. She also liked that he had given up the cushy Wall Street life to work hard at his own business. He wasn’t afraid to commit himself to a life he cared about. That spoke well for him. She wanted to know more about what made him tick. It seemed as if, perhaps, he felt the same way about her. For the first time in what seemed like ages, Eden felt a little bit hopeful.
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