“Thanks, Mom.” Her son gave a happy hop. “When I get really good, you can watch me.”
“I’d love to,” she said as the two of them hurried out.
Harry was trying to match Chance’s powerful stride. He couldn’t imitate the older man’s grace, but the two had the same easy swing from the hips. It was uncanny.
CHANCE WONDERED if he’d made a mistake by insisting his son abstain from magic in public. The kid looked as if his heart were breaking because he and his friend had muffed one softball game.
But he couldn’t let Harry run around manipulating objects with no idea of what the implications might be. In addition to the fact that it would attract too much attention, it could tempt the boy into cheating his way through life.
As they tossed a softball in the driveway, it became clear that the boy already knew how to guide an object. He could make it go straight up, bob sideways or hook downward and then fly up again.
“I guess it wouldn’t be fair to do that, huh?” Harry said. “But that pitcher made me mad. She kept thinking about what a sucker Al was.”
A chill ran up Chase’s spine. He’d been in high school when the voices began. By then, he’d had enough sophistication to recognize how odd the phenomenon was and to worry, for a few scary weeks, that he might be suffering a mental breakdown.
Careful observation had shown that his “voices” accurately predicted other people’s subsequent actions. It was a relief to realize he was reading other people’s minds, not losing his.
For a while, he had mischievously tuned in to teachers and classmates. Soon, though, he realized he was invading their privacy. Besides, it would be too easy to abuse the knowledge he gained, especially about the girls who wanted to date him.
His error had been to ask his father for help. Chase had assumed Ray, too, could read thoughts, but he’d discovered not only that it wasn’t true but that his father wanted him to snoop on a business rival.
Faced with pressure to harness his ability for personal gain, Chase did his best to stop reading minds. For a while, he persuaded his father that he’d been mistaken, but then came the night of the near-accident when Ray saw him manipulate the little girl out of the path of the truck.
That was the beginning of the conflict that finally drove him away from his father’s business. By now, steeling his mind against other people’s thoughts had become second nature, even—most of the time—where Tara was concerned.
It had shocked him at first, when her thoughts penetrated his mental barrier. Then he’d realized that she was reading his mind as well, although she had no other magical abilities.
Their psychic link from a previous lifetime, interrupted in its full flower, must have been reborn. The frightening part was that their son had inherited such precocious talents.
Harry needed guidance. And Chance was here to give it to him.
“The problem,” he said, “isn’t the ball. It’s the way you got inside the pitcher’s mind. It’s not fair to do that, even though it was an accident”.
He gestured to his son to sit beside him on a low stone wall, and Harry hurried over. Now came the tricky part.
Before the boy could erect a barrier around his mind, he had to exercise his power until. he understood its nature. The easiest way would be to practice on strangers who would never know the difference.
Of course, that raised the possibility that Harry would become adept and then refuse to give it up. But it appeared that his mother had instilled a firm sense of values.
“Let’s drive to the video store,” Chance said. “I know a game we can play. But you only play it with me, and never to trick or hurt people, okay?”
“Sure.” Harry grinned at him with complete trust. “This should be fun!”
“NO, NO! YOU move your shoulders too much!” Rajeev paused the CD, then clicked it to repeat the song.
“The problem is you!” retorted his sister. “You are bouncing. The cha-cha is done on the flat of the foot!”
She glanced at Tara as if for support, but Tara shrugged apologetically. She had no idea how the chacha was supposed to be executed, but to her unpracticed eyes, the brother and sister were doing a remarkable job.
She’d heard them practicing as she finished her work in the office, and she’d come into the courtyard to watch. Twilight was falling now, and, in response, the computerized floodlights shifted gradually to full strength.
“I was stepping back!” Rajeev returned “It is impossible to do that on the flat of the foot”.
“You aren’t supposed to step back! You are supposed to lead.”
He turned off the boom box. “We have practiced enough for today. We are fighting.”
“We are not fighting! I am right and you are wrong, but you are too stubborn to admit it!” His sister glared at him, then began to smile. “So. You were bouncing and I was moving my shoulders. We were both wrong.”
“Yes, yes, that is true. Our school’s competition is less than two months away,” Rajeev explained to Tara. “I think we will not be ready.”
“It’s worth competing just to gain the experience, I should think,” she pointed out
“Yes! Exactly,” said Vareena. “Well, we can practice a little more, since we have leftovers for dinner.”
“There are no leftovers in the refrigerator,” advised the computer from a hidden speaker. “Rajeev ate them for his afternoon snack.”
“I will cook!” he said quickly, to forestall his sister’s wrath. “Come, Vareena. One more run through!”
As she listened to the opening bars of the music, Tara wondered why Chance and Harry were taking so long at the video store. But she was glad the two of them had hit it off.
Still, she didn’t want Harry to become too attached. Her job here might last a few months or a few years, but it was temporary. It would be terrible if he began thinking of Chance as his father, only to lose him.
In front of her, the brother and sister resumed the Latin dance. This time, they kept their movements more level, with less bobbing on both sides.
Oddly, she could see herself dancing in this courtyard, long ago. She was swaying in Chance’s arms, their movements so light her feet scarcely touched the flagstones.
He sensed each shift of her body, reflecting her slightest inclination so closely that she felt as if their bodies were melting together. It was like last night, when they’d embraced—except they hadn’t It had been a dream. Both times, a dream.
She yawned, gulping in the cool air. This daydreaming wasn’t like her. She felt like a schoolgirl, fantasizing about a boy on whom she had a crush.
Rajeev and Vareena had just finished dancing when Harry darted into the courtyard, with Chance following. Both of them wore bemused expressions.
“That was fun!” Harry declared.
“What did you rent?” Tara asked.
“Rent?” Her son blinked, puzzled.
Embarrassment flashed across Chance’s face. “We were playing a game, trying to figure out which tapes other people would rent. We forgot to get one ourselves.”
“We can play a board game tonight,” Vareena suggested. “There is no need for videos.”
“You’re both so kind to baby-sit,” Tara said. “I’m sorry to be gone two evenings in a row.”
“It is fun for us!” said Rajeev.
“Maybe I shouldn’t—”
“It’s a bit late to back down,” Chance said. “Lois would be very disappointed.”
“Who’s Lois?” Harry asked.
“Your cousin.” His words hung in the air for a moment before he corrected himself. “I mean, my cousin!”
“You’re right. I can’t cancel now,” Tara conceded. “I’d better go change.”
LOIS’S NEW ADDRESS turned out to be the penthouse unit in a swank building on Wilshire Boulevard. Chance took in the elegant lobby and paneled elevator with growing dismay.
“Wow,” Tara said as they emerged on the top floor. “How does a recent college
graduate afford a place like this?”
“That’s a good question.”
Ray paid his top employees well, but only if they made contributions that helped his business. That category included special-effects designers and innovators at computer graphics, not business graduates with the ink still wet on their diplomas.
His cousin had graduated near the top of her class, but she lacked experience. Chance had never heard that the girl had any particular psi talents, either.
If she weren’t psychic, she must be willing to aid and abet whatever schemes his father was devising. With his attention occupied by Tara and Harry, Chance wasn’t sure he had the energy or interest to rescue his cousin from her own character flaws.
But he had promised Aunt Cynda that he would help. Maybe a few well-chosen warnings were all it would take to bring Lois to her senses.
As he listened to the doorbell echo inside the spacious apartment, he wondered how corruptible his young cousin was. Her choice of an apartment showed a taste for luxury, which was not a good sign.
On the other hand, he recalled Lois from family gettogethers as a bright, articulate young woman, eager to learn and quick to question those around her. Surely she would soon realize that there was more to life than enriching oneself at the expense of others.
Perhaps he could find a place for her in his own company. Chance was considering opening a Northern California office, which would mean relocating some of his top staff and creating several positions locally. He couldn’t pay an inexperienced staffer enough to afford a place like this, but there would be advancement opportunities.
Then the door swung open. Standing there, brightfaced and welcoming, was his cousin, her dark hair cut in a chic wedge and her designer suit made of ultrasoft silk.
Standing right behind her, his square-jawed face slashed by a calculated smile, waited Raymond Powers.
Chapter Seven
The tension between Chance and his father was evident from the moment the two locked gazes in the doorway, bracing themselves in a way that reminded Tara of two wolves sizing each other up.
She knew from comments Chance had made over the past few days that the two had parted company over some disagreement on ethics. But that didn’t explain why Raymond had chosen to attend this dinner.
Of the four of them, only Lois seemed at ease. In fact, as she guided them into the sunken living room where a uniformed maid was serving cocktails, she seemed to delight in playing hostess.
It didn’t take a genius to see that tonight’s invitation hadn’t been a spontaneous expression of hospitality. Lois was helping her boss play some game, and relishing the opportunity.
As they made introductions and exchanged pleasantries, Tara tried to sort out her impressions of these two people. Lois was articulate and surprisingly poised for such a young woman. Her friendliness had an opaque quality, but Tara wasn’t sure whether the woman was hiding something or simply lacked depth.
Raymond Powers was tall, like his son, but heavyset, and without Chance’s spontaneous warmth. A thick white streak slashed his coal-black hair, and Tara suspected he had instructed his hairdresser to create the effect to enhance his dramatic image.
She doubted the man ever did anything without weighing the advantages. Yet she didn’t sense any cruelty in him, just the kind of unquestioning self-interest that one might expect from, say, a cat.
“A good businessman never rests on his laurels.” Ray was saying to his son as the maid served a tray of appetizers. “Expand or die, that’s the watchword of the day.”
“Are you thinking of expanding, then?” Chance asked.
Ray and Lois exchanged glances, and Tara gathered that the point had not been raised by accident. “We’ve got some talks scheduled in a couple of weeks about an acquisition.” Raymond leaned back in his easy chair.
“What kind of company?”
“CD-ROM gaming.” Ray lit a cigarette and glanced around for an ashtray. Lois handed him one. “It’s a wideopen field. Combining our special-effects know-how with their experience in writing and programming games, we could corner a chunk of the market.”
“Sounds like a marriage made in heaven,” Chance murmured.
“First we have to persuade the lady to say yes, so to speak.” Ray inhaled a lungful of smoke. “And reach a prenuptial agreement that’s mutually acceptable.”
“I see.” From his cool tone, Chance must be seeing something that Tara had missed.
“The management of the company plays its cards close to its chest”, Raymond said. “I wish they would be more specific about their concerns. As you know, I’m not a mind reader.”
“I’m sure they’re telling you as much as they think you need to know”, Chance said.
Tara kept getting the impression that there were undercurrents to this conversation. Perhaps that was always the case between parents and their grown children, especially if they didn’t get along.
She felt a pang of regret for the estrangement with her own father. She would happily trade his cold rejection for Raymond’s manipulations, or whatever he was doing tonight. While there was contact, there was still hope of a reconciliation.
The conversation switched to the state of the economy and then to politics. When the maid announced dinner, they adjourned to the capacious dining room.
The more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that Lois could afford to live this way on a beginner’s salary. Most likely the apartment belonged to Raymond’s company, and for some reason he was indulging his young cousin by letting her live there.
Tara didn’t get the sense there was anything romantic between the two. Maybe the man simply like helping relatives, or maybe he considered Lois a valuable ally. But in what way?
Once the veal marsala, asparagus and new potatoes had been served and everyone’s wineglasses filled, the conversation turned to a recent article about Chance. It had detailed his successes in predicting the stock market.
“It’s almost as if he has a sixth sense,” Lois told Tara. “You’re working with him, so maybe you can tell us. I’m dying to know—how does he do it?”
“Research,” Tara said promptly. “Thoroughness. And instinct, I guess. Why don’t you ask Chance?”
“He’s very closemouthed about his methods.” Raymond savored a mouthful of asparagus before continuing. “It’s the instinct part that interests me. What kind of instinct? How does it work?”
“Nothing mysterious about it.” Chance hardly touched his food, as if he needed to keep all his senses alert. “It’s a matter of paying close attention to the news and picking up on trends.”
“I could use some of that instinct in my business.” The blandness in Ray’s tone was belied by the tension in his arm as he reached for his wineglass.
He bumped it, and the glass teetered at a dangerous angle. Tara gasped, certain the purple liquid was about to soak the white linen tablecloth. At the last instant, the cup righted itself, almost in defiance of the laws of gravity.
Ray smiled. “Haven’t lost the old touch, have I?”
Lois beamed. Chance shrugged. Tara wondered what on earth the man was talking about.
“The real trick,” Ray said, “would be to get inside people’s heads. Even exercise a little mind control, which I always thought might be possible if a person applied himself. A person with the right gifts, of course.”
“And the wrong ethics,” said Chance.
Lois sighed. “I just don’t seem to have the family touch.”
“For what?” said Tara.
She felt Ray’s attention swing toward her, as if he were really seeing her for the first time. “Intuition, as my son calls it. How about you, my dear? Do you pick up feelings from other people, get a sense of how they’re likely to act?”
“Not to any unusual degree.” Tara wished she didn’t feel as if she were on display. The food was delicious, but she could hardly taste it anymore. “Except where my son is concerned, of course. Mothers always have
a sixth sense about their children.”
A stillness fell over the table, and then Lois said, “My goodness, I didn’t realize you were married. My grandmother said you and Chance—I mean—”
“I’m not married,” Tara said.
“Divorced?”
“No.” She felt no obligation to elaborate, but it looked as if her hostess were going to pry further.
It was a relief when Ray intervened. “So you have a son. How old is he?”
“Six.” Pleased to be on a less touchy subject, Tara said, “He’s very bright but mischievous.”
“Sounds like he’s all boy.” Ray nodded his approval. “What sort of mischief does he get into?”
Again, Tara got the feeling she was being questioned for a reason, but what possible interest could these people have in Harry? “Well—”
“Just the usual stuff,” Chance said. “He’s very interested in Softball. Think you might like to come over and toss a ball around sometime, Dad?”
Judging by Raymond’s expression of distaste, tossing softballs was not one of his favorite activities.
The maid cleared their dishes and poured coffee. Ray lit another cigarette, and the conversation became general until they were alone with their slices of chocolate cheesecake.
Ray turned to Tara. “Tell me something. Suppose you learned that your son had an unusual ability. Let’s say he had a gift for healing, but he refused to use it. Wouldn’t you urge him to become a doctor and use that gift?”
“That’s not a fair analogy.” Chance’s mouth tightened. “Healing involves helping people, not taking advantage of them.”
This must be the crux of the matter, Tara thought. Raymond wanted his son to apply his instincts to furthering the proposed acquisition. Chance objected to the way his father conducted business and didn’t want to let his talents be misused.
“I would certainly discuss the possibilities with my son” she said, “but I’d also listen to what he had to say. Ultimately our children have to follow their own hearts, Mr. Powers, and as parents we need to know when it’s time to let go.”
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