Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1)

by Shirley Hailstock

  But when Grant parked the bird next to the hangar, the fantasy she’d been living vanished. The rotors turned slowly after Grant cut the power, their whine elongating into rhythmic puffs of air. When they fi­nally stopped, the silence was deafening.

  "Well, it’s time for your speech," Grant gave her the lead-in.

  "You know what I’m going to say?"

  "Yes."

  "Do I have to say it?" She looked through the glass windows toward the terminal. Everything was quiet. Lights from inside filtered through the win­dows in an attempt to brighten the night. She concen­trated on the glow.

  "You’re going to have to tell me. I won’t stop com­ing to see you unless there’s a good reason."

  "There is a good reason, but I can’t tell you what it is."

  "Why not?"

  "Grant, I can’t tell you." Frustrated anger crept into her voice.

  "It has something to do with Washington, D.C., doesn’t it?" he demanded.

  "Please don’t ask me any questions. I can’t answer them." Anger filtered through her voice.

  "Can’t or won’t?"

  "It doesn’t matter. The reason has little to do with you, and for all concerned, it would be best if we didn’t see each other again."

  "That’s not good enough. Tell me the truth." It was a command.

  "Grant, go home, find another woman, get married, but leave me alone."

  "I can’t." His voice dropped.

  Robyn refused to look at him. "Can’t or won’t?" she screamed.

  "Both," he shouted. "I can’t and I won’t. I’m in love with you."

  Chapter 10

  Marianne had a lighter step to her walk when she entered the terminal at Reagan National. Jacob would have a car waiting outside the terminal. And they had a date. Even the news of the poisoning incident didn’t dampen her happiness. Her bags were the first off the flight, and she hurried to the exit. Quickly, her things were stored in the car, and they were speeding toward the nation’s Capital.

  "We’ve had another incident," Marianne began an hour later when they were seated side by side on top of a picnic table in Rock Creek Park. Jacob raised a taco to his mouth, and Marianne munched on a ham­burger. "Two days ago, Brooke and I made one of our special chocolate desserts. Just as we finished, Pete’s cat came into the kitchen. The cat has as bad a sweet tooth as I do and especially for chocolate. Brooke dished him the last of the icing we’d used. Not more than a teaspoon. In seconds, the cat was dead."

  "Poison?" Jacob took a drink of his soda.

  "Arsenic," Marianne confirmed.

  "Did you call the authorities?"

  "No, Brooke and I were the only ones who knew. I suggested it, but she wouldn’t let me. We disposed of the dessert and had the cat autopsied. Brooke tried to cover it up, by claiming she’d picked up the wrong box. But we don’t keep arsenic in the restaurant. I traced it to the bottle of lemon flavor. The bottle is dark and we were talking as we worked."

  "Did you notice anyone strange hanging around."

  "No one we don’t already know. We have several people with records working at the restaurant, but I’d vouch for them. They’re fiercely loyal to Brooke."

  Jacob concurred. He’d had them checked out, and they were first-time offenders, shoplifters, kids gone the wrong way. Robyn’s trust in them was returned without question.

  "How’s she taking this?"

  "It’s hard to tell. The shell around her is thick. She hasn’t mentioned it since."

  "What about the photograph."

  "Still in the safe."

  "Keep a close eye on her. I have a feeling some­thing is going to happen soon, and I don’t want her without help when it does."

  ***

  Robyn sat comfortably in the cabin of the Lear Jet. Outside, the plane cut through the air at more than four-hundred miles per hour, yet she felt very little motion. The "fasten your seat belt" sign had just been turned off. She loosened hers but kept the lock fully secured. Grant had explained, when he taught her to fly, the value of using a safety belt.

  He had taken to dropping by unexpectedly and tak­ing her flying. She loved it, and occasionally, he’d allow her to take the controls, complimenting her ability. Robyn tired of trying to send him away when her heart wasn’t in the task. She couldn’t keep the happiness out of her heart or hide her feelings when he appeared.

  Since the night he’d taken her to dinner, he hadn’t mentioned being in love and neither had she. She was too scared. This couldn’t happen, she told herself. They had no future together, but she couldn’t get him out of her life. She’d tried it once, and it hadn’t worked. He was her other half—the part that made her alive, not just existing.

  And she was glad he ignored her attempts to get rid of him. She loved his surprise drop-ins. Some­times, days would pass without a word, then just as she was feeling low, he’d show up and take her on a picnic or out to lunch. She’d seen more movies in the past six weeks than she’d seen in five years. Once, they even went bowling, something she hadn’t done since leaving college. But today was the first time he’d called to ask her out.

  "Would you like something to drink?" Grant asked, moving from his seat to stand behind the bar facing her. His white shirt was in stark contrast to the black of his dinner jacket.

  "Martini and Rossi," she replied, appraising how his tanned skin set her pulses running.

  He poured the sparkling wine into two goblets and passed her one before lowering himself into the plush oversized chair at her left which swiveled to bring them face to face. Robyn raised her glass, feeling the tiny bubbles tickle her nose, as she sipped the chilled liquid. "Is this one of your planes?" she asked, the soothing blue-and-white color scheme making her feel comfortable.

  "Do you like it?"

  She could hear the pride in his voice. "It’s beautiful. You must get a lot of requests for this kind of plane." Grant had shown her around before they took off. The plane seated twelve and was equipped with a private bedroom. The passenger seats were fully reclinable, and a low semicircular sofa flanked the sunken bar. Tonight, they were alone except for the pilot and co­pilot locked away behind a door at the front of the aircraft.

  "I’ve been fortunate," he answered. "The District of Columbia has a great need to fly people in and out on short notice. I’ve flown United Nations dignitaries, government officials, rock stars, and once the Queen of England was my passenger."

  "I’m impressed." Robyn smiled, releasing her seat belt and walking to another seat. She sat down and got up, repeating the procedure until she’d sat in all the seats. "To think," she said, lounging on the sofa, "I’ve sat in the same chairs as the queen."

  Grant laughed, a clear happy sound.

  "Where did you take her?" She grinned feeling hap­pier than she had in years.

  "New York. She had a schedule to maintain and trouble developed with her own plane."

  Grant picked up her wine glass and joined her on the sofa. Robyn accepted it, noticing his arm slide behind her along the back of the sofa. She sipped the liquid that added heat to the temperature rising in her blood.

  "Well," she began. "Now that we’re traveling four-hundred miles per hour, and I’m dressed in my formal gown, as you requested." She smoothed the peach-colored chiffon that highlighted the golden color of her skin. "May I ask where we’re going?"

  "We’re going to a very special party."

  "Great, I like parties." Lights registered in her eyes.

  "It’s an engagement party for an old friend."

  As quickly as it had come, the light was dashed. Her body, that had been warming comfortably, was suddenly cold. David’s face flashed into her memory. Her senses were alive and alert.

  "Washington, D.C." she gasped. "Are we headed for Washington?"

  He took her hand and nodded. It was trembling and clammy with unexpected sweat. "It’s only for a few hours, Brooke. I promise to have you safely back in Buffalo before breakfast."

  "Why didn�
�t you tell me?" she whispered, attempt­ing to control her wildly beating heart.

  "I’ve told my friends so much about you, they wanted to meet you."

  There was nothing she could do about it now. Grant didn’t know what he was doing. His subtle lit­tle trick could mean someone’s life. She only hoped everything would work out, and no one would know she was in town. Somehow, Jacob always knew when she broke the rules. She was surprised he hadn’t shown up again. Robyn had promised not to see Grant, yet in the past month, he’d been in and out of her life constantly.

  "I’m sorry, Brooke. If it means that much to you, I’ll have the plane turned around."

  "What’s your friend’s name?" she asked cautiously.

  "David Reid." Grant confirmed her silent fear.

  Things would work out, she told herself. She was sure everything would be all right. It was just a few hours. She’d enjoy them. She was going to see David again.

  "We used to fly together before I started my air service."

  "Does he still fly?"

  "He’ll help me out in a pinch. But his flying is mostly for pleasure these days. He and Susan. . ."

  "Susan?" Robyn interrupted at the mention of her old friend’s name.

  "Susan used to be my next door neighbor. She was my wife’s best friend. She and David are engaged. Three years ago, David and Susan began a small busi­ness that has exploded." Grant spread his hands to demonstrate.

  "What did they do?"

  "They started a jewelry store."

  "That’s wonderful!" Robyn’s exuberance was evi­dent in her voice. She’d known Susan made her own jewelry. She’d done it since college. Many times, Robyn had encouraged her to sell it. She was pleased to hear Susan and David were to be married and that her friend had finally taken her advice and was making a living, selling the jewelry she designed.

  Meeting them again was another story. If she’d known they were going to D.C., she’d never have boarded the plane. But she had to admit the idea excited her. For so long, she’d wanted to return to the Capital, but she knew better than to try. She told herself it was better to create new memories than to try and return to old haunts. She knew if she re­turned she’d end up in her old neighborhood, trying to get a glimpse of Susan or find out if Grant was still in their old house. The problem with her was she knew she couldn’t stop herself if she started down that road. It was like being on a roller coaster and wanting to get off just before the momentum plunged the cars on the downward incline. So she avoided the temptation by not visiting DC. Now, she was going to see them.

  She was confident they wouldn’t recognize her. If Grant didn’t, surely David and Susan wouldn’t know her. But they weren’t the people she was concerned about. Jacob Winston was somewhere in D.C. Even if he wasn’t, he always knew what was going on in her life. Up to now, she hadn’t minded or even thought about it, but now she didn’t want him knowing about this trip. She hoped luck was on her side, and by some miracle, Jacob’s sources of information were investi­gating some other witness. She thrust thoughts of Ja­cob out of her mind. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy herself.

  "You’re doing it again." Grant’s voice captured her attention.

  "Doing what?" Her eyes opened in wide surprise.

  "Going off on trips without benefit of transport."

  "I’m sorry. It has nothing to do with the company."

  She smiled, hoping it would disarm him and lead him away from questioning her thoughts. "I was thinking of all the lovely pieces of jewelry I’ve stared at in store windows. One day maybe I’ll get to visit one of Susan and David’s stores." She tried to pronounce their names as if they were strange to her tongue. "What’s the name of the store?"

  "Trifles." Robyn knew the answer before he spoke. She and Susan came up with it one rainy Sunday when Grant was flying to England. After Vegas, Susan gave up the stage. She said it was too hard on her feet. . .and she was sure the weight of one of those headdresses would have her falling on her face.

  Robyn tried to convince Susan she could make a living selling her own jewelry instead of continuing her boring job working in the commercial art department of the city’s newspaper.

  Robyn could picture the store. Even though Susan had shrugged her suggestion off, Robyn had insisted she sketch out a drawing of what she’d like the store to look like.

  "Have they decided on a wedding date, yet?" She dragged her thoughts back to the present. She didn’t want to be caught daydreaming again.

  "Late August."

  Robyn pictured herself dressed in a white gown, floating down the aisle as she took Grant’s arm. It was the wedding every bride wanted, but for her, it never happened. She wasn’t sad about missing the orange blossoms and a warm Saturday in June routine. She’d been completely happy with the justice of the peace in the Moonlight Wedding Chapel in Las Vegas.

  "I told them you’d come with me." Again, the deep voice snapped her dreams.

  Grant caught her off guard. She couldn’t go. She knew she couldn’t. She was making this trip unannounced. There was no way she could know he was taking her to D.C. when she boarded the plane.

  And in a few hours, she’d be safely back in Buffalo. But to make plans to return to the city where she had enemies sworn to kill her was dangerous. Yet, she was excited by the idea of spending time with Grant, and seeing Susan and David again.

  "Grant, I can’t. You know I have to take care of things at the restaurant."

  "Marianne can handle the restaurant, and she told me you need a change."

  Robyn rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Marianne was playing cupid. "I don’t even know the bride and groom. I’m sure they won’t miss me." Lie number three, she thought. "And that’s Marianne’s weekend away."

  For as long as Robyn and Marianne had been friends, she went away on the third weekend of every month. Robyn never asked where she went. When her own life was such a mystery, how could she ask ques­tions of another person. And Marianne never volun­teered anything about her time away. The only indication was that on the Monday after she returned her moods were more somber, as if she’d had a fight and was trying to get over it, without involving anyone at the restaurant.

  "It’s not them I’m thinking of." Robyn returned her attention to Grant in time to see the wry smile play at the corners of his mouth. Heat, like the airplane, defied gravity, and spilled up her raw shoulders and neck to deepened her face.

  "Honestly, Grant. The restaurant is very busy on Saturday nights. It’s too much work for one person."

  "What about tonight?" he asked, finishing the last of his wine.

  "I’m not blind to Marianne’s motives, Grant. To­night, she’s playing cupid. It’s been a long time since I went out with anyone. She thinks that if I continue to see you, something will develop."

  "Will it?" Fear made him ask, and he was holding his breath, waiting for her to answer. He looked di­rectly at her. She returned his gaze, not wavering. Nothing in her eyes showed any emotion. Yet, he knew how he affected her. Since that first morning he’d kissed her, he longed to do it again. Yet, there was something about this woman. Some mystery he couldn’t unravel, and she had yet to confide in him. He wanted her, but he wanted more than she was ready to give. He wanted her to trust him enough to tell him what it was that kept her pushing him away.

  "It’s impossible, Grant." He knew she would say it. She’d told him that before when she sent him away. But he hadn’t been able to stay away. He was totally consumed by his love for her. She haunted him, and she didn’t know it. He’d done nothing but think about her since he left. David and Susan’s engagement party gave him another excuse to see her.

  "Okay, it’s impossible."

  Robyn was nonplussed. She’d expected to argue with him, and he’d calmly accepted her decision. It didn’t make her feel good. In fact, she hated how she felt. She wanted to run into his arms and tell him their relationship could go on eternally, but she was pre­vented. The wall around her was carefully in plac
e, and nothing could pierce it. She sat quietly, sipping the last drops of wine from the heavy crystal goblet.

  ***

  The house at 2430 Kalarama Road was alive with light, and a festive air penetrated the confines of the limousine that slowly made its way down the narrow street and delivered them to the circular driveway. Robyn gave her hand to the gloved chauffeur who provided support as she exited the car. She had learned as they left the plane and Grant showed her into the limo that he not only owned a charter service but also a fleet of limousines. He explained the need to get people to the airport in order to fly them to their destinations. The plush accommodations were as expensively decorated as the customized plane had been.

  Tonight, Robyn was getting the royal treatment. Grant took her arm and led her into the hall. Music greeted them as they stopped briefly to give her wrap to a uniformed maid. Her eyes were hungry for a glimpse of Susan, and she looked around trying to cover her excitement and keep anyone from noticing. Finally, she spotted Susan on the other side of the room. She was thinner. Her hair, that Robyn remembered as be­ing shoulder length, was a short crop of curly ring­lets. Her face was radiantly parted in a happy smile. David was by her side. He looked the same. Not even a gray hair had changed his appearance. But he looked more confident than she had remembered. From somewhere, the image of Don Quixote tilting at a windmill came to mind. She could imagine David fighting for the woman by his side. They were talking to a couple whom Robyn didn’t know.

  In the back of her mind, guilt tugged at her thoughts. She shouldn’t be here. She knew she was tempting fate. Tonight, she could make a fatal error. With a slight shrug, she pushed it to the back of her mind. Tonight, she was going to have a good time. Tonight, she wanted to be Robyn. For a few short hours, she wanted to slip back into the comfortable role of Robyn Warren-Richards and tell her husband she loved him. She wanted to rush to her friends and tell them that she’d missed them and spend the evening catching up on the past five years.