On the Edge

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Perhaps she’d told her brother about his “arrogance,” and Cyrus had been pragmatic enough to think marriage to Jack would be a good opportunity for his sister, or at least one she should consider. “How long is Cyrus staying with you?”

  “Indefinitely.” She was adept at conversation stoppers.

  “About last night, Celina. I—”

  “Don’t.”

  “It’s a perfect solution for you. You and the baby would never want for anything. And you won’t have to think about whether or not you want to name Errol. And—”

  “Don’t. I’m not here to discuss anything personal with you.”

  “Marriage. Yours and mine. It would be a useful arrangement for both of us. And you wouldn’t have to worry about your child having a father. If I say it’s mine, nobody’s going to say otherwise—not where they’re likely to be heard.” Oh, yes, Jack Charbonnet was known for his suave approach. Too bad the magic had deserted him today.

  He sank lower in his soft green leather chair. Celina sat in a similar chair, as far from him as possible. He said, “I’m glad these are comfortable,” then indicated the receptionist’s vacant rosewood desk. “Do you suppose wherever they are, they’re together?”

  Taking her briefcase with her, Celina got up and walked, stiff-backed, to the open door into Garth’s acres of office. From where Jack sat the decor in the other room looked like a recreation of an oversized study in an English manor house. Studded brown leather abounded.

  “Red suits you, Celina.” The understated lines of her linen suit drew attention to the woman, not the clothes. She was vivid, and if you knew what to look for… “You are startin’ to show no matter what you wear.”

  She stared at him and he decided he’d earned the contempt he saw in her eyes. “You shouldn’t have to hide it,” he told her quietly. “But I don’t have the right to be so personal. I apologize.”

  Celina nodded, and faced Garth’s office again.

  “You are lovely,” he said, surprising himself. “I think you only get lovelier. Pregnancy does that. At least, I believe it does.”

  “Thank you.”

  He ran the back of a thumbnail over his bottom lip and kept on studying her. “I’m not going to forget kissing you.”

  “It wasn’t important.”

  Jack almost laughed. He deserved the put-down. “I hope we can find a common ground. Perhaps I should say I’d like to find a common ground.”

  Heavy steps sounded outside. “There you are!” Garth Fletcher bounded into the waiting room with his large head thrust forward on broad shoulders, and exuding energy. The atmosphere changed. It almost crackled.

  “Were you lookin’ for us, Garth?” Jack asked mildly. “I thought I clearly heard your receptionist tell me the meetin’ was here.”

  “Just a figure of speech,” their host said with a honking laugh. His mane of gray hair rippled back from his wide forehead like a retreating tide. “You’re lookin’ mighty fine, as usual, Celina. Come on into my parlor, both of you.” He put a hand on the back of Celina’s neck and guided her ahead of him.

  Jack followed and closed the door. “Busy day?” he said, beginning to simmer at the other man’s condescension.

  “They’re all busy.”

  But the bastard wasn’t going to apologize for wasting an hour of another busy man’s time. “I was starting to think you were tryin’ to avoid us, Garth. I called yesterday, and the day before, and was told you didn’t have an open appointment. I’m glad we finally got to the head of the line.” There had been little doubt that Garth would have preferred to put them off indefinitely.

  “You always make this room look clumsy, Celina,” Garth said, not looking at Jack, or acknowledging he’d heard what he said. “Such a lovely, feminine little bit of a thing.”

  More than lovely in Jack’s opinion, even if she was more peaked than he would have preferred. Wasn’t there something they said about redheads not wearing red? Her hair was a red-brown with flashes of coppery color among the short curls. Celina should wear lots of red because it was terrific on her. She needed him. What would it take to make her see that? Did she have something to hide from him, something that made her want to keep her distance from him?

  She sat down and put her briefcase on the floor. She smiled at Garth, but it looked as if the effort cost her something. She didn’t thank him for the paternalistic compliment. He patted her shoulder and his hand lingered.

  Jack resented that Garth thought he had a right to touch Celina with that familiar, jovial informality. It gave the man—or so he thought—a way to disguise a gesture with sexual undertones. “We did have the time right today, didn’t we?” Jack asked. “Two?”

  “You did. Now, what can I do for you? Oh, I’m sure you don’t want anythin’ to drink so soon after lunch, do you?”

  This time Celina’s blue eyes sought out Jack’s. She said, “No, I’m sure we don’t. How is Derek Columbier?”

  “Doin’ well, quite well.”

  “He’s not rejecting the implant?”

  Garth’s jovial facade fell away. He sniffed and rocked onto his heels. “Not yet. His mother is euphoric, o’course. It’s never easy to strike the balance between supportin’ hope and avoidin’ false hope.”

  “Garth,” Jack said. “Celina and I have sοmethin’ we want to ask you. Α favor. We know we could have sent a note, or called, and you’d have done it, but we wanted to come and see you face-to-face. These are difficult times. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Times are inevitably difficult.” Garth walked around his oak desk and sat down. “I’m faced with a special meeting of the board of trustees this evenin’. That’s enough to make a man quake in his shoes, I can tell you. You can’t imagine what a group that is.”

  “Oh, I think I can, I—”

  “Not that they aren’t all well meanin’, of course. They give their all to this hospital. But they do expect a great deal from me and the entire staff of St. Peter’s. They scrutinize everythin’, I can tell you, and if sοmethin’ looks like it might cast a shadow on this fine institution, well then, they expect me to fix it.”

  “Very demanding,” Jack said. He sat down. “But you do a fine job of it. That’s why this hospital is held up as an example across the country.”

  “We’ve come to talk to you about Errol,” Celina said. She took a file from her briefcase. “I’m hoping there will be time to talk about progress, time schedule, and so on for a few projects, but Errol is the first order of business for us.”

  Garth pushed his chair back, propped his heels on the desk, and tented his fingers. “Errol is dead.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed before Jack’s temper finally overloaded. “No shit! I’m glad we came to see you today, Garth, or we might have missed that important piece of information. How about you, Celina? Aren’t you relieved to know the truth about Errol? And did you notice the fine balance Garth struck. He knew this was not the time to give false hope, so he went straight for complete disclosure. Now we can stop hoping Errol will open that drawer at the morgue and walk into our open arms. He’s still there because the police won’t release his body yet.”

  “There’s no call for that,” Garth said.

  “Don’t,” Celina said, her voice barely audible. “Please, don’t argue at a time like this.”

  “You’re upsettin the little lady,” Garth said, leaning forward, adjusting his tie. “The shock has been too much for you, Jack. You’re overwrought.”

  “Overwrought? Overwrought? What are you...Work on your vocabulary, Garth, you’re not talkin’ to a girl about to swoon.” He stood up and paced. “You deal with this, Celina. I don’t trust myself right now.”

  “We’re all shocked,” Celina said. “We need your help, Garth. If we’re going to save Dreams, we need your confidence.”

  He was quiet for a while and tapped his touching forefingers against his lips. “Errol was the heart and soul of the foundation,” he said at last. “When somet
hing like this happens, it’s often best to step back and give it time. Now, I wouldn’t want you to think I don’t think it’s a great idea. It is. And you and Errol brought a lot of joy to a bundle of children, but there’s a time for grievin’. An appropriate time. And that’s now for you and Dreams.”

  “Why would you refer to Dreams as a good idea?” Celina said, and Jack glanced at her sharply. The anger he heard in her voice was new, different. “You didn’t call it a good idea when we were able to raise the money for a patient library you wanted but the trustees didn’t think was necessary. Then we were angels. Your term, not ours. Ideas are notions that haven’t yet taken shape.”

  “Semantics, Celina, semantics.”

  “Don’t talk down to her,” Jack said. “I don’t like it.”

  “Is that a fact?” Garth tapped his fingertips together and regarded Jack with knowing eyes. “Steppin’ right into Errol’s shoes, are we?”

  The implication was impossible to miss. “What do you mean by that?” Let the man put it into words.

  “Obvious, isn’t it,” Garth said smoothly. “You’re steppin’ right up to make sure the things Errol cared for continue. I like that.”

  “You just said you thought this was a time for grieving,” Celina said. “For us, and for Dreams. That sounded as if you meant you didn’t think we should be continuing with our work.”

  Garth smiled at her and his glance took her in from head to toe. “I meant it might be a good idea not to draw too much attention to the foundation right now.”

  “Why would that be?” Jack asked.

  “All I’m tryin’ to do,” Garth said, looking aggrieved, “is what’s best for everyone. Now, if you want to work here with the children, Celina, I know I can find somethin’ for you. I’m about to institute a fund-raiser for an additional rehab wing and there’s nothin’ that would please me more than to have you on board.”

  “I bet,” Jack said, not so much to himself that Garth Fletcher wouldn’t hear. “Did you know that Errol and I were partners in Dreams? His idea. His sweat and tears. But I have a financial stake and Errol and I had an understanding that I’d step in and take an active role if it was ever necessary.” He and Errol had never discussed what would happen if Errol couldn’t act, but Garth didn’t have to know that detail.

  “Is that so?”

  “It is. But we’re here for another reason. We know you’re going to want to help us out.”

  An impassive mask spread over Garth’s wide face, but his eyes remained alert and wary.

  “We want you to do something for Errol,” Celina said, sitting forward in her chair. “He loved this hospital. You weren’t the administrator when it happened, but his son was kept alive here. And then he died here. Errol never stopped feeling he owed this place a great deal.”

  Garth studied his fingernails. “Took him a while to remember though. So I understand. I suppose you can forgive a man for turnin’ to liquor—and other things—at a time like that.”

  They ought to leave—now.

  Celina sprang to her feet. “That wasn’t when Errol had his difficulties.”

  “But he did have them,” Garth said, sizing her up yet again.

  “Yes, he did” Celina agreed. “And that’s why we’re here. There are people who are capitalizing on history. Rather than mourn the death of a good man, they’re having a great time dragging up things he had the courage to overcome a long time ago.”

  “From what I’ve heard,” Garth said, “he was found in, shall we say, unfortunate circumstances.”

  “He was found dead,” Jack said, barely restraining himself from pulling Garth across his desk.

  He sounded as if he knew what only Celina and Jack were supposed to know about Errol’s death—unless Garth had the same sources as Charmain Bienville. Then there was the question of what had been on Antoine’s mind the last time Jack was in Royal Street. He had intended to speak with him, but there hadn’t been an appropriate time.

  Celina said, “Errol was murdered. And now we’re in a bind because some people are getting in the way of us continuing his work because they enjoy pulling out things that are long past. History. Instead of mourning for a truly good and honorable man, they want to find a way to blame him for what was done to him. You and I know that for some years Errol’s life revolved around helping children. Primarily children in this hospital. What we’re asking you to do is issue a statement of support for Errol. A statement about your gratitude for all he did. We’d be very thankful if you’d tell anyone who wants to listen, and plenty do, that you had great admiration for Errol, that he was beyond reproach, and that any effort to tarnish his memory is a miscarriage of justice.”

  Garth actually looked amused. “You were very close to him, weren’t you?” he asked.

  “Very. I loved and admired him.”

  Wrong word, darlin’. “So did I,” Jack said, seeking to defang any negative comeback of Garth’s. “You could find hundreds in this town who feel very close to Errol.”

  “Really? I didn’t know him that well myself.”

  “You”—Celina gripped the arms of her chair—“you did know Errol well. You came to him often, Garth, very often. No week went by when you didn’t call. And the two of us spent hours in this office with you.”

  Garth picked up a pen and doodled on a pad. Apart from a telephone, only the pad marred the perfect, shining surface of the desk.

  “Isn’t that true?” Celina persisted.

  Jack shoved his hands in his pockets where they’d have difficulty doing what he’d like to do with them. Either Garth Fletcher was slime, or he was doing his darnedest to make them think he was.

  “The last thing I want to do is add to your grief, but I do have to think you’ve exaggerated a few things in your mind. Probably because you have a natural need to look for good things to think about Errol.” He held up a hand to interrupt the start of an outburst from Celina. “Hear me out, my dear. I understand the grievin’ process. I work with it every day.”

  Slime, Jack decided. “Garth, Celina and I hope you’ll do something to help us—in memory of Errol. I’ll cut right to it. As you’ve plainly heard, there are a lot of rumors flying around about him.”

  “Rumors. I fully accept the tendency to canonize the dead, but we can’t change the fact that those aren’t rumors.”

  “Will you put out an announcement about Errol?” Jack pushed ahead as if Garth hadn’t already damned a good man. “A public statement. This was a man who dedicated the last five years of his life to the support of dying children. He had no concern for himself, for personal gain. His reason to live was bound up in those children and you’re the one in the best position to let the world know it. They will believe you when the same statement coming from me would be just the words of an old friend, and from Celina they’d be his employee speaking.”

  Garth smiled with one side of his mouth. “Quite. His employee and close companion. That wouldn’t be at all the thing. And you remember that, Celina. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you. But if you say too much about Errol, you’ll be jumpin’ into his grave with him—at least professionally. There are people who can use the talents you’ve got. Don’t forget that. A good-lookin’ woman like you is always an asset. But not if she’s seen as potential trouble.”

  The crawling sensation that attacked Jack’s nerves wasn’t completely unfamiliar. He knew he’d felt it before, but he didn’t want to identify the occasion. For now he still needed something from this asshole. “We’re glad you see our point of view, Garth. I’d like to take out a full page in the Times to publish endorsements from various people. Your statement would be the highlighted piece we lean on for most impact.”

  “I’ve brought tear sheets of pieces written about him,” Celina said, and Jack noted that her hand shook slightly when she placed a folder on Garth’s desk. “I thought you might appreciate them as references.”

  Garth didn’t touch the folder. He laced his fingers behind his nec
k and rocked his chair backward. “Do you intend to try carryin’ on with Dreams?”

  “Try, nothing,” Jack said. He looked at the ceiling. This guy was unbelievable. “We will carry on. What I don’t get is why you’re taking this line. Who got to you, Garth? Who are you afraid of?”

  Garth’s hands slowly fell to the arms of his chair and he rocked forward. He narrowed his eyes. “What makes you feel safe enough to make suggestions like that? If I were you, I’d be very careful who I insulted. You may think this town has forgotten who you are and what you came from. It hasn’t.”

  “I repeat,” Jack said, although his heart beat harder, “who are you afraid of? Who is tellin’ you what to say and what to do?”

  Garth stood up and leaned on his desk. He pointed an imperious finger. “There’s the door, boy. Use it.”

  “What’s happening here?” Celina said, her face chalk white. “You asked if we’re continuing with our work and Jack told you we are. Now you two are insulting each other—you’re insulting Jack and telling him to leave. Why? Why don’t you explain yourself, Garth?”

  With visible effort, Garth pulled his overgenerous lips back in a smile. “Don’t you worry your pretty head. This is nothin’ for you to concern yourself with. And you know we’ll be more than happy to accept any help you can give us here at St. Peter’s.”

  “And you’ll have it,” she told him. “But we’re asking you for some sign of gratitude for all Errol did. We can count on you for that statement, I assume.”

  Garth spread his meaty hands and said, “We all answer to a higher power, my dear. I told you about that meetin’ with the board of trustees. They call my shots.”

  “As in they are your god?” Jack said quietly.

  Fletcher gave up on the smile. “Better a group of well-meanin’, solid citizens, than your daddy’s old boss and his soldiers. No, I’m afraid we can’t speak out on Errol Petrie’s behalf, not when the hospital has already agreed to an investigation aimed at reassuring the public that this isn’t a hospital where their children could be coerced into submittin’ to performin’ sexual acts in exchange for a new tractor for the farm back home.”