The parking lot at the Elks Lodge was packed with vehicles. Inside, tobacco smoke hung over a large hall filled with people and various gaming tables like a San Francisco Bay fog. A huge bear of a man was turning a wheel under a sign that said Horse Race. Beyond him an elderly woman glittering with sequins spun a cage containing dice, while a frail old man encouraged patrons to lay chips on various numbers on the table in front of him.
Taking Laura's arm, Carter eased her between groups of people, all of whom seemed to be having a terrific time. They had almost reached the back of the hall when Laura glimpsed a couple of card tables, behind which several women were sitting at a long table, shuffling cards. Presiding at the blackjack table was a familiar slight figure, impeccably dressed in his Mississippi gambler suit, his hat at a rakish angle on his head, an unlit cigar stub clamped between his teeth.
Sly.
Laura gripped Carter's hand close to her body and pointed just as Sly started his spiel. She heard Carter let out a long breath. Glancing up at his face, she saw he was smiling with relief and perhaps a little exasperation.
"Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen," Sly called out. "Don't be shy. A winner every time, even if it's the house. Come along, ladies and… gentlemen." His voice trailed away as the man and woman in front of him sat down on a couple of stools and he caught sight of Carter and Laura. "Uh-oh," he muttered. Turning to his left, he asked a man who was evidently the pit boss to call in a replacement. "I need a break," he explained.
"You're doing a great job, Sly, honey," a middle-aged woman called to him from the line of card shufflers.
He tipped his hat, his smile fraying a little around the edges as his replacement stepped up. Sly turned to face Carter. "It was for a good cause," he said, raising his chin defiantly.
"Sly, honey?" Carter queried, his eyebrows slanting in their usual puckish way. "How long has this been going on?"
"I just met her today," Sly said emphatically. "You know how women are. Always ready to get too friendly too fast."
"I know how .vow are," Carter said, redeeming himself a little for his earlier 'Hell hath no fury' remark.
Sly glanced sideways at Laura. "How's my friend Jess?" he asked.
"Never mind Jess. Where's Max?" Carter demanded before Laura could reply.
Sly inclined his head toward a side door. "In the office. They were desperate for volunteers and didn't want to give me time to take him home first. It's not so bad now—the crowd's tapering off. Guess you want me to quit, huh?"
"Far as I'm concerned, you can deal all night," Carter said, "However…" He put an arm around his uncle's shoulders, propelling him toward the door. "One of your previous problems has caught up with you and we have to talk about it. Your black Merc driver called on Laura today."
Sly turned pale. Carter exchanged a glance with Laura, then opened the door. Max leaped at him from a distance of several feet and the two of them danced each other around the room for several minutes. "Does Max always say hello that way?" Laura asked, awed.
"Always," Sly said gloomily. He glanced at her face. "What did Dorothy have to say?"
"Dorothy?" Carter queried, patting Max down to the floor. "That's her name, Dorothy? Sit," he added to the dog, who responded immediately, his rear hitting the floor with an audible thunk. Then he held up his bandaged left paw, letting it dangle limply in an obvious plea for sympathy. "Poor old boy," Carter told him, rubbing his head.
"He must have run into the glass in the woods," Sly said. "I couldn't see any in the parking lot."
"You actually went out to the parking lot?" Carter said. "Your agoraphobia's all gone, is it? Some kind of miracle cure?"
"No need to be sarcastic, my boy," Sly said.
All the volunteer workers waved or called goodbye to Sly as the three of them—and Max—walked through the hall. "Come back soon," the woman in sequins added.
Carter looked for sympathy from the ceiling.
Sly looked around the parking lot carefully before exiting the car. "Still afraid of Dorothy, are you?" Carter asked.
Sly ignored him. Tilting his hat over his eyes, he strode with dignity toward the steps and led the way to the apartment.
A few minutes later, they were all seated around the table in Carter's kitchen. Sly had insisted on making coffee before what he referred to as "the inquisition" began. Carter had fed Max and bedded him down in the bathroom for the night.
"Okay," Carter said. "Who is Dorothy and what does she want with you?"
In typical fashion, Sly answered his question with a question. "What did Dorothy say?" he asked Laura.
She shrugged. "Not much. Just that she was trying to catch up with you and couldn't decide if you lived at my house or Carter's condo. She said she didn't want to knock on either door in case you had a wife at one place or the other."
"Where's she from?" Carter demanded.
"Spokane," Sly said. "She's Cousin Louise's next-door neighbor. Owns a printing business her husband left her. We played a lot of cards together." His blue eyes gleamed. "Dorothy's one of the best bridge players I've ever run into. She has a mind like a steel trap. She knows everybody's play before they know it themselves. Not all that bad at poker, either." His mouth turned down at the corners. "Better than me, apparently."
"How much do you owe her?" Carter asked.
Sly's shrug was elaborate, rather like the one Jessica used when she wanted to avoid answering. "Four," he muttered.
Carter winced. "Hundred?"
Sly's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Thousand."
Carter stared at him aghast. "Four thousand dollars?"
"She said she didn't care about the money," Laura said.
Carter scowled at her. "I care."
"So do I," Sly said firmly.. "Told her I'd pay her back as soon as my luck turned."
Carter propped both elbows on the table and leaned his forehead on his cupped hands in an attitude of despair. "If the money wasn't important to her, what was?" he muttered.
There was a silence. Laura could almost see Sly's quick mind making up and discarding various stories. "Wouldn't it be easier just to tell the truth?" she suggested.
He looked slightly stunned by the idea, then he sighed. "Me," he said. "She wants me to marry her."
Carter straightened abruptly and stared at his uncle. "Don't tell me you proposed to her?"
Sly swung his head slowly from side to side several times. "You have to believe me, my boy. I never did. I allowed her to know I was developing a certain fondness for her, which was true. But no more than that."
"Did she seem homicidal?" Carter asked Laura.
"I don't think so," Laura said. "But I'm not sure I'd recognize homicidal tendencies if I saw them. She seemed rational enough. Far more rational than I would be if some cardsharp took off without paying me the four thousand dollars he owed me."
Sly looked at her reproachfully.
"You said you allowed Dorothy to think you were fond of her," Laura said accusingly. "Aren't you putting the responsibility on the wrong person here? You told her you were fond of her, right?"
"I might have given that impression," Sly admitted, squirming a little. "But I meant just as a companion. I enjoy having a lady companion, Laura, but unfortunately, no lady is ever satisfied to be a companion. I swear to you," he said, turning to Carter. "I never ever even hinted at matrimony. But the next thing I knew Dorothy was deciding on how many bridesmaids and where we'd go for our honeymoon."
"Hawaii?" Carter guessed.
Sly looked astonished. "Why would anyone want to go to Hawaii? Las Vegas, Dorothy thought. Lot of discount rates to be had. She may be well off, but she's careful with her money."
Carter laughed. "Taking you to Las Vegas would be like turning Max loose in a butcher's shop. The inventory would be sharply reduced in no time."
"This is not funny," Laura said sternly. "That poor woman has been taken advantage of, and led to believe she was loved."
"Laura," Carter said
gently. "Nobody's denying Sly treated the woman badly, but you have to admit it's a bit obsessive to keep trekking across mountains every weekend to track him down. Why couldn't she just call him on the telephone?"
Sly blushed.
"She tried that, right?" Laura said accusingly. "You just let the phone ring?"
"Answering machine," Sly muttered. He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. "I didn't know what to do. I couldn't hurt the poor woman's feelings. So, it just seemed best to avoid her."
Carter let out a long breath. "You may be right. I guess you're stuck with the agoraphobia until she gives up."
"That's not fair," Laura protested.
"Damn right," Sly said. "Take a stronger man than you to ground me, my boy. I'll decide when my agoraphobia's going to act up, not you."
"I wasn't defending you," Laura said. "I meant it wasn't fair to Dorothy for you to keep avoiding her."
"It was hardly fair of Dorothy to chase after Sly with so much determination he had to leave Spokane," Carter shot back.
Sly winced.
Laura stood up and pushed her chair under the table. "It's always the woman who's trying to trap the man, isn't it?" she said coldly, then turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.
A minute later, Carter heard the crash of the front door.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
For a full two minutes, Carter sat staring at Laura's empty chair, trying to figure out what had happened. Then he jumped up, shot to the front door and hauled it open—just in time to see the taillights of Laura's car as she exited the parking lot.
"Sometimes I can be so damn obtuse," he complained, slumping back into his chair. "I should have known Laura would take that remark about Dorothy chasing you out of town personally. I just took off on her yesterday." He dumped his head on his hands again. "I've probably done myself in for good now."
"Go after her, my boy," Sly advised. "Grovel. Groveling always gets results."
"I've really put my foot in it this time, Sly. There's not much point going after Laura when she's mad at me. I'll do better if I start fresh tomorrow, I think." He sighed. "I started going downhill when I offered to buy Laura's house. I shouldn't have stated my decision so baldly. I should have approached her cautiously, sounded her out first."
Sly's face brightened. "You're going to buy The Willows? What a splendid idea! I've always remembered that house fondly. Your mother—"
"Yes, I know," Carter interrupted. "Mildred told me and Priscilla told me. My mother loved that house. I love that house, too. Laura had told me she'd be putting it up for sale when she got through restoring it. So I decided to buy it. But Laura said no."
"She turned you down?"
"Flat. Angrily. I even suggested she could stay on and rent the apartment she planned to make in the attic. She got angrier. I swear I don't understand women, Sly. Now she's done a complete one-eighty and decided to keep the house herself. She intends to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast."
Sly stroked his dark pencil mustache. "That's not a bad idea, either. Bed-and-breakfast inns do very well here. Understand there's always a waiting list." He cocked an eyebrow at Carter. "So what's the problem? You like the lady, obviously. The lady's decided to stay in town. I should have thought you'd be celebrating, not complaining."
Carter stared at him. "I should be, shouldn't I?" He shook his head. "Maybe it's myself I don't understand. When Laura told me she was keeping the house I felt as if she'd slammed a door in my face." He shook his head again. "Why the hell am I discussing all this with you, Sly? I may not know much about women, but I know a lot more than you."
"You're not so infallible," Sly said, pouring more coffee for both of them.
Carter raised his eyebrows.
"For example," Sly went on. "What made you think Dorothy chased me out of Spokane?"
"She didn't?"
"Didn't you see me wince when you said that to Laura? I could have handled Dorothy eventually, given time. As it happens, I wasn't given time."
Carter stared at him without comprehension.
"Cousin Louise asked me to leave," Sly said sadly. "Her husband, Harry Potter, turned her request into an order."
"Why?" Carter asked.
"Why?" As though he'd grown uncomfortably warm, Sly stood up and removed his jacket. He hung it on the back of his chair, then began pacing back and forth on the linoleum. "Why do they all ask me to leave? I'll tell you why, my boy. Marriage is why. All the younger generation were fine as long as they were children. Good old Uncle Sly. Give us a magic trick, then. Play cards with us. Then they grew up, got married. All of a sudden, Sly's not welcome anymore."
Carter had gone beyond surprise to astonishment. "You're not welcome anywhere?"
Sly shook his head vigorously and went on pacing.
"But you said Louise begged you to stay on. You couldn't decide whether to go to Phoenix to stay with Claire or to visit Dexter Kincaid in Dallas."
"I lied. None of them want me. You were my last resort." He stopped pacing. Now he looked at Carter in a pleading way that detracted terribly from his usual dignity. "Once I leave here, I have nowhere to go."
There was a tremor in his voice that tore at Carter's heart. A profound loneliness seemed to surround him, like the aura that surrounds a person's body when the light is all behind him. The acknowledgment of that loneliness glittered in Sly's clear blue eyes.
For a minute Carter was stunned. Staring at Sly's pale, wounded face he tried to take in what Sly had told him. "Something just occurred to me," he said slowly after a while. "You didn't call Laura as I asked you to when I had to leave town yesterday. Was that deliberate?"
Sly nodded. He was standing at the other side of the table now, his back very straight, his hands gripping the upper slat of the chair Laura had vacated—gripping so tightly his knuckles were turning blue-white.
Carter could see it all now. "That's why you tried to turn her off me? You were afraid we might fall in love and get married and you'd be out of another home?"
Sly nodded. "It has happened every time," he said flatly.
"You've nothing against Laura personally?"
"Laura's a lovely woman."
"You don't really think I'm a rake in the Kincaid tradition?" Carter held up a hand as a faint smile flitted across Sly's mouth. "Don't answer that. You're basing your judgment on past history." He looked at his uncle sternly, feeling totally exasperated. "Do you realize if Laura wasn't as smart as she is, you could have ruined everything between us?"
"That was the idea," Sly agreed. He tugged at his mustache. "I didn't know Laura was ultrasensitive on that score, though—Priscilla told me about the womanizing husband after I told all those tales to Laura."
"Well, luckily for me, Laura suspected overkill and saw right through what you were trying to do."
"And then you shot yourself down."
"Didn't I." Getting up, Carter walked around the table and put an arm around his uncle's shoulders. It was always a shock to realize how frail Sly was without the padded shoulders of his suit jacket. For the first time he noticed that Sly's silver hair was combed very carefully on top to cover a thinning area. The pale-pink scalp gleaming through seemed very vulnerable.
"We'll work it out, Sly," Carter said softly. "I'm not about to cast you out. As long as I'm alive, you'll have a home with me. And I'll lend you the money to pay Dorothy back."
For a horrible moment, he thought Sly was going to break down and cry. That was not something he wanted to see.
But just in time, Sly recovered his dignity. Drawing himself up, he said,' "Thank you, my boy. I promise you I'll take care of the matter of Dorothy as soon as I can. I can probably get a job in town—one of the taverns, maybe. I'll pay you back—see if I don't."
Carter wasn't sure it was going to be that simple, but he didn't want to say anything that would damage the tentative self-confidence that had brightened Sly's thin face.
He washed the coffee cups after Sly had taken himself of
f to bed, dried them and put them away. And then, putting the jar of coffee beans away in the refrigerator, he found himself setting it in alphabetical order next to the apples and butter, just as Sly had.
The air coming out of the refrigerator suddenly seemed very cold indeed. It seemed to whip around him, like a cold wind from the Arctic, chilling his body, his brain—a precognitive wind that brought with it a hint of what the future held in store.
Oh, he could handle Sly's excessive cleanliness and his eccentricities, all right—he had no doubts about that. What worried him was that he could see himself turning into another Sly, getting lonelier and more eccentric as time went by.
"So this Dorothy person is hanging around, trying to catch up with Sly, so she can persuade him to marry her?" Priscilla asked.
Laura nodded. "That's Sly's story."
"What are we going to do about it?" Priscilla asked.
"Uncle Sly could hide out here," Jessica suggested, her hazel eyes shining.
Laura finished clearing the breakfast dishes from the dining table, then turned to face her two companions, doing her best to look stern. "We are not going to interfere," she said flatly. "Dorothy is Sly's problem and he's going to work it out. Okay?"
"Dorothy is Sly's problem," Priscilla echoed gravely.
"Sure, Mom," Jessica said.
Glancing from one to the other, Laura decided they looked gloomy enough to show they'd received her message. "I'm going back to my wallpaper," she announced. "Anyone want to help?"
"I'll come up after a while," Jessica said.
Priscilla, as usual when work was being contemplated, appeared limp and ready to fade away.
"The museum is open on Sundays, I believe," Priscilla murmured as soon as Laura left the room. "Carter should have gone to work by now. Do you know his home phone number? I want you to talk to Sly."
When the Spirit Is Willing Page 24