She had contemplated waiting in the parking lot, keeping an eye on the Parthenon until Harlan emerged, with or without Saul. She wanted this business resolved, or wanted some sign that her ex-husband wasn’t finished with her.
It appeared he was.
His presence in her attic in Vermont had been what he’d said it was: a choice born of necessity. A place to hide until his head cleared.
She climbed into her car, shut the door hard, turned the key and backed out, heading east and then north. Before long she’d be home.
Harlan sensed that this time Beth was gone. He’d spotted her Bel Air in the parking lot and known she was watching him, if not watching out for him. He assumed she was making up her mind about what she should do. Stay? Leave? Meddle? She was no good at playing the supportive helpmate. Supportive she could be, but never someone who said things just to make someone feel good. With Beth, you got what you asked for.
What had he asked for?
He stood in the hot sun as Saul reiterated what Harlan had told him. He had picked a hell of a time to thrust himself back into Beth’s life. Now, because he couldn’t—wouldn’t—make her a partner in this nasty affair, he might have lost her, again. This time, perhaps, forever.
“Are you listening?” Saul asked impatiently. He was wiry, with dark good looks, and clearly extremely bright. He had immediately zeroed in on the possibilities and the holes in Harlan’s story.
“I’m listening.”
“If what you’ve given me is garbage, I’ll know within twenty-four hours. If not, I’m on the case. Maybe we have a hell of a story here. Maybe we have garbage. Watch your back while I check it out and do my own digging.”
‘‘Never mind me. Watch your own back. I don’t want you ending up in a ditch on my account.”
Saul’s dark eyes flashed. “Won’t be on your account, pal. This is my job. It’s what I do, and I accept the consequences, Anything happens, shouldn’t be on your conscience.” His grin radiated his passion for his work. “Then again, you could go after them yourself.”
Harlan laughed. ‘The ball’s in your court now.” He started across the park to the lot where he’d seen Beth. He couldn’t ask her to understand being shut out of his life, not again.
Yet as he stood in her empty parking space, he remembered the feel of her smooth, wet skin against his in the shower, remembered her blue eyes upon him, her skeptical smile. He envisioned her at home, under her mass of quilts with her animals, and at work at her oak desk at Mill Brook Post and Beam. She was multifaceted and so completely herself. He was sure he wasn’t finished with her or ever would be.
That was a problem for the future.
Meanwhile he would have to wait for Saul to do his job, and for the gentlemen who preferred that Saul didn’t uncover what they were up to, if need be, to do theirs.
Maybe it was just as well Beth had gone.
Chapter Seven
Beth arrived home in time for the Thursday-morning sunrise. It was a glorious splash of pale pinks and lavenders, rising over the hills where the Stiles family had toiled for generations. She had paced herself heading north, keeping in mind the limitations of her aging car and her wandering thoughts. She had decided to slink into town before dawn, instead of in broad daylight, when word would travel fast that Beth Stiles was back. Her dogs and cats and chickens and one duck greeted her gladly, for Char hadn’t given them the attention Beth did. “I’ll feed them,” she’d informed her best friend. “There’s no way I’ll pet them.”
Bone weary, Beth didn’t keep track of who piled into bed with her. She felt welcomed. Making love with Harlan in his dismal shower would have to suffice her for a few years. Maybe forever. Men, she’d concluded somewhere near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, were off her list, unless she was being ‘just one of the boys’.
She didn’t set her alarm and awoke around noon to an impatient chorus of barks, meows and cackles. Charity Winnifred Bradford Stiles was standing beside her bed with a meat cleaver in her hand.
“I saw your car,” Char said. “I wasn’t sure, though, it was you. I heard you left town in Julian’s Rover. Should have known you’d come back in that damned Chevy. No, don’t get up. Don’t give me explanations. I’ve had my own dealings with Harlan Rockwood. That man—” she lowered her meat cleaver “—is trouble.”
Beth’s cocker spaniel leaped out of the bed when she sat up. “I’d better get some locks for my doors,” she said. “If you can walk right in, so can anyone else.”
“You can feed your own animals today?”
“Uh-huh. I’m... I guess I’m home for good.”
Char gave her a penetrating look. “Yeah. You’re all right?”
“Fine.”
“Harlan?”
She shrugged. “On his own.”
“You want to talk, you know where to find me. I’ve got a twelve-thirty appointment. Adam and Julian are up at the mill. Thought you might like to know that they’re not mad. You picked up enough slack for them when they were sorting out their love lives.”
“To happier endings than mine,” Beth pointed out. “Not that I’m sorting out my love life. I’m staying away from men.”
Char let that one slide. “Where’s the Rover?”
“Harlan still has it as far as I know.”
“Uh-huh. Hard fellow to stay away from, isn’t he?”
Beth grimaced. “He has been a bit of a bad penny lately. I think that’s over. He’ll probably hire someone to drive Julian’s Rover back up to Vermont.”
“Want to lay a small wager on that?”
“Char, I don’t know what’s happened to you since you married my brother. Honestly. You’ve turned into a scheming romantic. Pretty soon you’ll quit your law practice and start writing romance novels.”
“Nope. I quit my practice once and have no intention of doing so again. And I don’t ‘scheme.’ I scrutinize the facts and make my judgments. The facts, Beth, tell me that you and Harlan—”
Beth threw a pillow at her. “Out! I’m miserable enough, without you telling me Harlan cares two figs about me.”
“What makes you more miserable, thinking he does care or thinking he doesn’t?”
“Thinking about him at all. Now thanks for caring for my animals. I’m home, I’m staying, and I’m fine. I’ll call you later.”
Humming a romantic melody, Char headed on her way.
Beth crawled out of bed, making her rounds, taking comfort in the affection of her array of pets and the serenity of her home in the valley. She suppressed her dismay at the thought of her life stretching on into the future in an endless repetition of daily routines.
She had to drive through Mill Brook Center and Old Mill Brook to get to the mill. She pretended not to see the townspeople pointing at her, as if she’d returned from the moon. The Chevy had begun to roar. It needed a new muffler, and Beth feared for the radiator. At least it got her to Mill Brook Post and Beam.
With the windows rolled down, she sat in the parking lot for a few minutes and breathed in the cool, dry air, smelling of evergreens. She listened to the whine of the saws and the splash of the river over the rocks. This was familiar territory, and the tension and rawness she still felt would ease over time. She resolved to carry on as she had after her divorce.
Item one on her agenda was an explanation of her strange behavior over the past week to Julian and Adam.
They greeted her with their usual reserve, clearly restraining an impulse to demand an account of what she’d been up to. The stiffness of their jaws belied their cool “Glad to have you home, Beth.” All was well at Mill Brook Post and Beam. Having helped Adam hold down the fort when Julian was off romancing his future wife, Holly, and having helped Julian when Adam was off romancing Char, Beth had had no worries that they’d manage for a few days without her. She, however, hadn’t been off romancing anyone. Just chasing Harlan, and he didn’t count. He’d told her as much himself.
So she told her brothers as much as she felt they
deserved to know: that she was fine, that the Rover would be returned, that Harlan Rockwood was on his own.
“Not ‘that snake Rockwood?’” Julian asked. “Plain old Harlan Rockwood.”
She sniffed. “You can fill in your own adjectives.”
“He tell you what kind of trouble he’s in?” Adam asked.
“Wouldn’t matter if he did. I’m out of it.”
Adam pondered her response for a moment. “So what now?”
“Nothing. I’m back to work.”
“You owe me one Land Rover,” Julian put in.
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.
“Forget it. Harlan always did turn you into hell on wheels. I guess he can afford to buy me a new Rover, if it comes to it, which it shouldn’t. Seems to me Adam and I put you through enough this past year with our love lives, so we can stand it while you sort out yours.”
Beth gave him a sharp look. “You been talking to Char?”
Julian grinned. “Just reading the handwriting on the wall, Beth. It’s there for anyone to see.”
She didn’t bother to protest. She wasn’t sure she’d have believed anything she said right now herself. The truth was, Harlan’s intrusion into her life had stirred up her dreams of love and romance. If nothing else, she now could admit that the uneasiness she’d felt ever since she’d found out that Char had gone into a horse deal with Harlan Rockwood had to do with what
Harlan had meant to her and what she had meant to him. Their lovemaking and the skullduggery in Tennessee had finally laid to rest any nagging regrets about what might have been. Might-have-beens didn’t count.
“You look real down, Beth,” Julian commented later that afternoon, when she’d gone back to her desk and he caught her staring out the window at the view of the millpond.
‘‘Nothing work won’t cure.” She sounded snappish, even to herself, and sighed, setting down her pencil. “I’m sorry. It’s Harlan. You know he’s always made me crazy. I’ve got to get him out of my system.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It’s what I need. I don’t know any more what I want.”
“You want to come up to the house for dinner?”
She shook her head. “I need to be alone.”
“It’s safe?”
“Yeah,” she said, thinking of Saul Rabinowitz and Harlan’s bruised body. “I don’t know enough to be of use to anybody.”
“Call me if you need me.”
Adam, however, wasn’t so easily dissuaded. If Beth refused to stay at his and Char’s house until they knew for sure she wasn’t in any danger, he’d stay at her “shack.”
“That’s not necessary,” Beth said. “Really. I’ll be fine. Look, if I get spooked I’ll get in my car and come stay with you. I’m used to being on my own. It won’t bother me. No one came around while I was gone, right? Well, then, don’t worry.”
By evening, back at her house with her animals, Beth realized it was going to take more than one afternoon back at the mill to exorcise Harlan from her system.
She hoped he was all right.
Thought about him in the shower, inside her.
Remembered how she’d cried out for him.
Disgusted with herself, she turned up the cold water.
To burn off her frustration, she decided to work up a good sweat and take out her aggravation on several chunks of oak. Pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt, she went outside to the woodpile behind her home.
“Well, well. I never would have guessed I’d see a Rockwood woman chopping wood.”
Beth flung around, ax in hand, heart pounding.
Jimmy Sessoms took a step back, clear of her ax. Breathing hard, she lowered its head into the dirt and leaned on the handle. “I’m not a Rockwood woman.”
“I guess maybe you’re not.” He eyed her closely, somehow looking more astute than she remembered from his first visit last week. ‘‘You’re Harlan’s woman, though, aren’t you?”
Her body tensed. “I’m my own woman. What can I do for you, Mr. Sessoms? I spoke to your client the other day. She said she has no further need for your services.”
“That’s what I suggested she tell you.” Jimmy Sessoms drew a line through the sawdust with the toe of his running shoe. The jovial private eye he’d played last week had been transformed into a solemn professional with a mission. Beth could feel her heart thud with fear for Harlan. Sessoms continued. “I didn’t think it wise for you to be poking around and getting yourself into trouble. Neither did Mrs. Rockwood.”
“Good of you to mind my affairs for me,” Beth said tightly.
“Tell me where your former husband is before he gets himself into more trouble than he can handle, if he hasn’t already.”
“Harlan’s always gotten himself into more trouble than he can handle.” She leaned heavily on the ax handle, steadying herself. Now what? Harlan—I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you when I ran. “What makes you think it’s any worse now than usual?”
“You tell me.”
Something about him made her uneasy about revealing anything to him. “Look, Harlan’s troubles aren’t my problem. I told you. We’ve been divorced for nine years.”
Once again, Jimmy Sessoms scrutinized her. She wondered if she’d underestimated his intelligence and tenacity. “So how come you followed him to Tennessee?”
Taken aback, Beth reeled and gripped the ax handle hard, to keep from disclosing her shock. She asked coolly, “What makes you think I did any such thing?’’
“Eleanor Rockwood spotted your Chevrolet on her street.” Evidently quite pleased with himself, Sessoms took a step toward Beth. “Vermont license plate and all.”
“That doesn’t mean I was following Harlan.”
“What else would you be doing there?”
Her cheeks felt flushed, as if she were a twelve-year-old caught staring at a boy during class. She didn’t like Sessoms’ tone, his smugness, or his devious methods of dealing with her. She’d get rid of him, call Eleanor Rockwood, and advise her to get herself another private investigator.
“I don’t care for your tone,” she said in her best, snotty voice. “I’ve nothing to hide. We’re on the same side, aren’t we?”
“That’s what I thought, but now I’m not so sure. You’ve been playing games with me, Miss, right from the start, and I don’t like it. Maybe I didn’t make myself clear to you. Harlan Rockwood’s mother hired me to find her boy. I’m not your enemy.”
Beth decided a shift in subject was in order. “I understood you’d gone back to Tennessee yourself.”
“I did. Took a flight up this morning when I found out you were back in town. I made a couple of calls. Did you see Harlan in Nashville?”
“If you think he’s in Nashville, why aren’t you looking for him there? One of your calls could have been to me, you know.”
“Have to trust my instincts in this business,” Jimmy Sessoms informed her. “And my instincts tell me you’re skittish—for reasons beyond seeing a man you’ve been divorced from for the better part of a decade. You’re no dummy, are you, Mrs. Rockwood? To be honest, I thought Harlan might be with you, that maybe you were hiding him.”
“From what?”
“You tell me.”
“Well, he’s not here.” Beth gestured with one hand, keeping the other on the ax. She was beginning to dislike Jimmy Sessoms. “You’re free to look around.”
“Thanks. I trust you, so I’ll take your word he’s not here.” He laughed. “That surprise you, sugar? It shouldn’t. We’re on the same side, remember? I’ll be staying at the Old Mill Brook Inn tonight. Call me if you hear from him, won’t you? He’s got a lot of people worried.”
Making no promises, Beth watched him leave. When his car—another sedan, this time with New York plates—had disappeared around the bend, she headed back inside, bewildered by Jimmy Sessoms’ visit. Was he a professional or a kook? Had he figured out what Harlan was up to? Had Eleanor Rockwood
lied to Beth about her son having called her? Beth knew he hadn’t gone fishing. Did his mother realize what he was up to?
What exactly did she herself really know? She had assumed that any clues Jimmy Sessoms had gathered were misleading ones. Was it arrogance that made her think she was on the right track?
She filled two large kettles with water and slammed them onto the stove. She hated being passively on the sidelines, letting things happen to her instead of taking charge of her own fate. On the other hand, if she were in Harlan’s place, would she want him meddling, swooping in to rescue her? No. She would want him to mind his own damned business.
So she would mind hers.
She pulled the shades and dragged her galvanized washtub into the middle of the kitchen floor. After dumping in a bucket of cold water, then hot, she added an envelope of lily of the valley bath seeds. She leaned over the tub and splashed the water with her hands to create bubbles. Inelegant, but effective. She peeled off her sweaty, wood-chopping clothes and climbed in.
She heard a bump in the attic.
She ducked under the bubbles as best as she could and held her breath, listening.
He couldn’t be here. He wouldn’t have had time to get to Vermont. There was no reason. Someone in town would have spotted him and passed the word. She would have felt his presence before now.
Remembering the peephole, she stared up at the ceiling, trying to discern a green eye looking down at her.
“Harlan Rockwood, if you’re up there,” she said, “you’d better announce yourself right now, because I’m coming up. And if I find you, I’m—well, I’m getting my ax!”
She reached for her bathrobe and pulled it around her as she leaped out of the tub, dripping water everywhere. Was she losing her mind? Her old house was filled with squeaks and strange noises. She went into the kitchen, saw a meat cleaver and grabbed it instead.
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