Owen pulled himself away from her carefully to ask, “What are you talking about?”
At this, Sylvia took a step back herself. Confused she said, “Flowers. Didn’t you send me the flowers?” She gestured to the bouquet that she had placed on the kitchen counter until she had a chance to water them.
Owen looked flushed and then looked sheepish. “No,” he admitted. “I didn’t send them, but I wish I had.”
Sylvia didn’t know what to say, nor did Owen. They both looked at the beautiful bouquet of flowers. Their silence was slightly uncomfortable.
Finally Owen asked, “Do you mind if I have a beer?”
Sylvia shook her head slightly and Owen went to the refrigerator and took out a beer.
“Want one?” he asked her.
The still silent Sylvia nodded. Then she said more to herself than to Owen, “If it wasn’t you, I wonder who sent me the flowers?”
“Secret admirer?” Owen suggested teasingly, with his usual grin returning.
“Not likely,” Sylvia snapped slightly sarcastic.
They walked out to the deck and sat in silence again. The airspace between them was filled with tension. A motorboat roared past leaving a wake that lapped frantically at the shoreline. Somewhere nearby a water bird cried out answered by the joyful cry of children somewhere down the beach.
“Where do we stand, Sylvia?” Owen asked her.
Sylvia squinted in the late afternoon sunlight and continued to look out at the water. The glare of the sun made her eyes water and a thin film of tears covered her eyes. She wiped at them absentmindedly.
“I don’t know,” she said with a slight bitter edge to her voice. “Somewhere between friend and friendlier, I guess.”
He reached across the tense bit of airspace from his deck chair to hers and took her hand. The familiar fire started to kindle inside of her.
“I’d like it to be friendlier,” he said.
“But, that’s impossible right now, isn’t it?” she asked and pulled her hand from his.
Sylvia stood up and walked over to lean heavily on the deck. She stiffened at first when he got up and came over, laying a hand on her back.
“Yeah,” he said, “I know how it seems but, it’s not totally impossible,” he said softly as he rubbed her back.
Sylvia relaxed only slightly. Finally she turned to him and he kissed her gently and persistently. As their kisses turned passionate, the telephone rang.
Sylvia pulled away reluctantly and ran to answer it. She heard Owen mutter an expletive and she was smiling when she picked up the phone.
“Hello,” she answered the phone a little breathlessly.
“Hello,” the voice said on the other end. “You sound good all out of breath.”
“Who is this?” she asked sharply.
“Did you like the flowers I sent?” the voice persisted.
“Who is this?” she asked again.
“Richard Headley,” he answered. “Did you like the flowers?” he asked again.
Sylvia was stunned.
“Sylvia?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered, “They’re lovely. Thank you,” she said automatically.
“Excellent,” he said confidently and comfortably. “See you tomorrow.”
Sylvia stared at the telephone in her hand. Finally she hung up the phone, picked up the flowers from the kitchen counter and threw them in the trashcan with a loud ‘whumpf!’ Owen walked into the kitchen just then to see what was taking her so long.
“What are you doing?” he asked aghast, looking at her as if she had gone crazy.
She gave the trashcan lid a satisfied slam before she turned to answer him.
“Headley,” she told him flatly. “Headley sent the flowers.”
“Headley?” Owen repeated, not quite believing what she had said. “What does he want with you?” he demanded.
Sylvia met his eyes evenly. “He’s asked me out,” she told him a little defensively.
He continued to look at her questioningly.
“A…a couple of times,” she admitted haltingly.
Owen’s eye’s first widened in surprise and then narrowed with jealousy. Sylvia changed the subject. She didn’t want to get into it.
“Come and see what I did yesterday,” she said pulling him out of the kitchen to the adjacent powder room.
Owen admired her handiwork. “You did this yourself?” he asked.
Sylvia nodded proudly.
“It looks great,” he told her. He put his arm around her to give her a one armed hug and her stomach protested violently by growling loudly.
“Have you eaten dinner?” he asked her.
“No,” she said laughing, “Can’t you tell?”
“Do you want to go out?” he asked.
“No,” she said firmly. “I haven’t seen any reporters around lately, but I don’t want to add fodder to this craziness.”
“I understand,” he said. “Shall we order take out?”
“Okay,” she answered.
The press had abated and turned to other more current news after the flurry of paparazzi when Owen had been released on bail. Sylvia didn’t want to take any chances and was relieved that reporters were no longer attached to her doorstep at home and at work. They argued amiably over what they wanted and what delivery services were available. They finally settled on a white pizza and waited on the back deck with twilight falling around them. When the pizza delivery guy came and went, they settled down to eat. Over slices of pizza and a couple more beers, Owen told her that his parents had returned home. Owen shared that he was concerned that Marian might be shunned for harboring a charged murderer at her house as she went to her various volunteering efforts.
“Marian wouldn’t care,” Sylvia told him.
“I know,” Owen sighed, “but, she doesn’t need anything like this.”
“Well, I know I’m glad the press has abated,” Sylvia said, “At least until the next phase of the investigation.”
“Don’t remind me,” Owen said. “Jon should be back in the next day or two and then hopefully we can move on and get this resolved.”
He finished up a last bit of pizza and swigged the last gulp of his beer and turned to go. Before he went to his car, he took her in his arms.
“Look,” he said, “When this is all over, we can put the ‘friends’ part to rest and become much friendlier.”
Sylvia looked up at him. “That would be a good idea,” she murmured before he bent down to kiss her good night. Holding back from Owen was difficult, but for the moment, she knew it was in their best interests.
Chapter 26
For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
--Matthew 6:21
Sylvia jumped each time the phone rang or a shadow of someone passed by the office doorway. She did not want to see Richard Headley or hear from him. She was so nervous that when Mr. Carter came out to speak with her she nearly jumped from her chair.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“I guess so,” Sylvia answered, hesitating. She paused for a moment thinking once again that he reminded her of Lou Grant in Mary Tyler Moore and said in a rush, “No, everything is not all right.” She told Mr. Carter about Headley calling and asking her out.
Mr. Carter pushed the few hairs left over his pate back over and over. He looked up at her and shook his head.
“I’m mighty sorry to hear that,” he said dismally. “Because I have a new assignment for you.”
“What is it?” Sylvia asked, mystified.
He hesitated before he answered, “I have received a directive of sorts,” he started.
“The company wants to impress some visitors in hopes to lure them into large sales, and a possible sell out of this division,” he said. “They want to give them the full treatment and show them the area,” he told her.
“A sale?” Sylvia asked.
“Well, the murder and the bad press from the superfund clean-up was not a
good thing for big brother. Word has come down they’re thinking of selling this division and they want it to be as attractive as possible to the potential buyer,” Mr. Carter told her.
“What happens if it’s sold?” Sylvia asked. “What happens to everyone’s jobs?”
Mr. Carter shrugged and pushed back on his balding pate.
“What does this ‘show’ have to do with our department?” Sylvia asked, “Wouldn’t they want the big time marketing folks to come in?”
“We’re part of the marketing package,” he said miserably. “They would like us to take over with some of the marketing due to changes in personnel, vacations, etc.”
“What does this have to do with Headley?” Sylvia asked.
“Headley would like you to accompany him and these visitors,” he told her.
“What?” she gasped.
Mr. Carter nodded and said, “They want a pretty girl or two to accompany them on their visit.”
“Oh…my…God,” Sylvia gasped with large pauses between her words. “That’s barbaric!”
“Right,” Mr. Carter said acerbically. “I’m sorry Sylvia, I knew he was…” Mr. Carter struggled for words, “a little eccentric, but I never expected him to pursue you in this fashion. I suppose now that Anna is gone…” he broke off. What went unsaid was the exact thing that worried Sylvia.
Sylvia swallowed hard and said, “When does this little party take place?”
“Friday,” Mr. Carter stated, “Friday evening and Saturday.”
Hysterically and briefly, Sylvia thought of quitting her job, but calmed down to ask, “What’s expected of me?”
“Just go along for the ride as they tour of the area,” Mr. Carter told her. “Tell them about the company, our environmental efforts, go out to lunch, and dinner of course,” he paused, “and possibly think of some touristy spots to share with them.”
“Whew!” Sylvia said. “That’s quite a bit! But, it’s over the Bay Days celebration. I can’ possibly help if I’m to man the booth.”
“Well,” Mr. Carter said, “It’s what I came out to talk to you about. I’ll come down for some coverage to free you up.”
“There’s no way I can get out of this?” she asked meekly.
“I don’t think so,” Mr. Carter said. “It would be quite awkward at this point.”
“All right,” Sylvia said. “Let sit down and brainstorm some ideas. How bad can it be?” she asked, speaking more to herself than to Mr. Carter.
They sat and brainstormed possible visitation spots. Sylvia called Carol for some other ideas. By the end of the day they had formulated a plan that put Sylvia in place for Friday and Headley in for the weekend.
“We’ll split up the task of calling for reservations tomorrow,” Mr. Carter told her.
“Go home and relax and don’t worry.”
“Okay,” Sylvia said, giving him a rather wan smile.
Headley had not been by all day and she was relieved. She wondered what sort of game he was playing.
When she got home there was a message from Jon. He said he would call again. Sylvia put on her swimsuit and took a swim. The day was hot and humid and the water felt deliciously cool. She stepped cautiously over the pebbles until she came to the sandy bottom of the bay. A cool spring bubbled up beside her. She stood in the flare of cool water, shivering delightedly, then paddled about to a warmer spot. Finally relaxed, Sylvia turned onto her back and floated looking up at the sky. She wasn’t sure how long she floated. Sylvia emerged from the water smiling, still feeling the tug from the wakes and the tiny waves. Slightly staggering up the beach, Sylvia stepped into the shower in the newly renovated bathroom and turned on the steaming water. When she turned off the shower Sylvia heard the phone ringing shrilly. Throwing a towel around her she ran to pick it up, praying it wasn’t Dick Headley. It was Jon and he wanted to hear her ideas about the murder. In short order, she shared her fears with Jon. He seemed quite interested and warned her to keep the information to herself. He also said to call him immediately if the police had any further questions for her and that he would represent her. Sylvia agreed and hung up the phone.
Sylvia went straight to bed after the call, worn out from the worry about Headley from the day, swimming and the emotional drain from talking to Jon.
It was later than she expected when she woke up the next morning, birds chirping wildly. She rushed to work and trotted down the hallway, not paying attention. She was nearly running by the time she reached the office and rounded the doorway only to bump into Richard Headley as he was leaving.
“Hmmm, I like it,” he said smoothly, “when a pretty young woman just rushes into my arms.”
Sylvia, quite flustered, stepped back, not knowing what to say.
She swallowed hard, “Excuse me,” she said to Mr. Headley.
He looked at his watch and tapped it, “Running a bit late, are we?” he taunted. “Never fear,” he said quite low, “you can make up the time with me.”
He let her pass and her hands shook when she sat down at her desk to put her purse in the file drawer. Mr. Carter came out.
“I thought I heard someone,” he said, looking at Sylvia. “You were fortunate, you just missed Headley.”
“No, I didn’t,” Sylvia said. “I literally ran into him coming into the office.”
Mr. Carter grimaced and then told her, “He thought the plans looked great.”
“What’s next?” Sylvia asked.
“Coffee, first,” Mr. Carter grinned, “and then we can split up the reservation making as we discussed yesterday.”
The day seemed to go paradoxically slow for Sylvia, but she was surprised how late it was when the phone rang at 3:30. It was Marian asking her for dinner. She gladly accepted feeling, haunted by Headley.
Driving to Marian’s was like driving home. Sylvia relaxed when she hit the ‘no trespassing’ sign on the road that led to Marian’s house. Owen and Marian were sitting outside on the patio. Both were reading and Owen had his feet propped up on another chair arm. He swung his long legs down and stood up when she pulled into the parking area. Marian gave her a warm hug and went inside to get Sylvia a glass of wine. Owen held her close for a few moments and gave Sylvia a kiss on her hair before turning up her chin and they kissed slowly and sweetly. Marian returned with the glass of white zinfandel and they sat back on the patio. Sylvia glanced at what Owen was reading, it was a totally unintelligible text on chemistry. Marian was reading a mystery novel with blood dripping on the jacket illustration. She glanced at the book and then at Marian.
“Not enough murder around?” she quipped to Marian.
“Good author,” Marian said after she had taken a sip of her drink, “and good recipes in the back.”
“Ahh,” Owen and Sylvia answered in unison.
Sylvia felt the peace of Marian’s home as it seeped into her like warm, honeyed tea. They sat quietly enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. Sylvia closed her eyes. She was holding her wine in one hand and Owen’s hand in the other. The sun started to slip behind the trees in the meadow sending out long shadows and strips of golden sunshine.
Marian had quietly gotten up and gone to the kitchen. She surprised Sylvia when she said dinner was ready, and Sylvia jumped, nearly spilling her wine.
“Sorry,” Sylvia said, wiping drips from her hand and the arm of the chair.
“Sorry to have scared you,” Marian said, “You’re a little jumpy, aren’t you?” she asked concerned.
“A bit,” Sylvia said, avoiding her eyes for the moment.
They settled to eat in the kitchen where Marian had created yet another memorable dinner of cold cucumber soup, toasted French bread with a chevre boursin and a Caesar salad.
Marian said, “Jon called. He was pleased with the information you provided him. He’s passed it onto the detectives and they’re looking into it.”
“Have they looked into your computer files yet and checked the emails?” Sylvia asked Owen.
He shook his
head. “No use getting any angrier,” he said. “I’m practicing patience.” He looked at her and they smiled at one another.
“What’s been happening with you?” Marian asked.
Sylvia shrugged, “I’ve gotten pulled into something I really don’t want to be a part of at work,” she told them.
“What’s that?” Marian asked.
Sylvia explained the upcoming Bay Days weekend and her entertaining the visitors with Headley. Owen uttered an expletive or two and then apologized.
“He’s never been a nice boy,” Marian murmured.
“How do you know him?” Sylvia asked.
“This is a small town,” Marian said. “I’ve been to functions with the Headley’s and Richard has always been poor mannered. His parents have babied him beyond belief and gotten him out of every scrape imaginable. He’s always been in trouble. Fortunately for him, his parents have had enough money to pay someone off or get him out of his scrape. He thinks he can get anything he wants. He’s a big bully.”
Owen and Sylvia glanced at each other before they looked at Marian after her diatribe. Their mouths were agape. They had never expected this long tirade from Marian.
“Well that’s putting it in a nutshell,” Owen said dryly.
His comment broke their mood and they all laughed. Sylvia shared what was going on with Headley’s phone calls, flowers and comments. Marian looked worried and Owen angry.
“Now that Anna is out of his life, he’s looking for fresh meat,” he muttered none too quietly.
“Funny, that’s what Carol mentioned too,” Sylvia commented looking at Owen.
Marian just commented ‘hmmm….’ And they all were quiet as the candlelight flickered over the warm oaken cupboards, table and floor.
Owen and Sylvia did their usual cleaning up of the kitchen and Marian pulled a cold berry granita out of the freezer. After dessert they returned to the porch to talk. Sylvia was so relaxed she thought she might fall asleep. The stars sprinkled themselves across a blue-black sky. Black clouds were moving in and snuffing out the stars one by one.
“I think we’re due for some rain,” Marian commented.
The Greening: a novel of romantic suspense...with a touch of magic (The Green Man Series Book 1) Page 33