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THE WRONG BROTHER

Page 6

by Bonnie K. Winn


  Katherine fiddled with the tapestry runner on the sofa table. "Well, since Elliott's accident, he has all sorts of meetings. You know how he's always been – just mention the word meeting and he'd disappear. And I'm not sure exactly what the meetings are about." She frowned, her hands falling still momentarily. "And these phone calls…" She met Jessica's eyes. "Hang ups. And the caller waits to hear who answers before they disconnect. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I can't help wondering if it's a woman."

  Jessica picked up a mug of tea and brought it to Katherine. "You don't sound ridiculous. You sound like a normal woman with a normal amount of jealousy. But I really believe that the meetings are just business meetings and that the phone calls are a coincidence." She smiled. "And let's be sensible. Elliott works long hours. The rest of the time he's here with you and Dustin. When would he have found time to meet someone else?"

  Katherine took a sip of tea, then glanced out the window toward the gently cresting ocean waves. "Good point. But I still don't understand the calls." She glanced back at the telephone. "Why did they suddenly start now?"

  "Maybe someone's gotten hold of a wrong number and they're too stubborn to give up." Jessica hesitated. "Or, I hate to even mention this, but the accident received a lot of press. And that sometimes makes weirdos come out of the woodwork."

  Katherine paused, studying her friend's face. "Did that happen when Michael died?"

  Jessica nodded. "It was something I never figured out. There were all kinds of crank calls. And salesmen – like I was in the mood to do a lot of buying, but I guess they were under the misconception I had insurance money to burn." She took a deep breath. "I even had people calling to report they'd seen Michael after I'd buried him. What I'm saying, Katie, is it takes all kinds."

  "Did you have hang ups, too?" Katherine asked softly, hating to probe that pain-filled time in her friend's life, yet needing to know.

  Jessica shrugged. "Probably. I remember thinking several times that I should change the phone number. But in the end it didn't matter all that much." She left the rest unsaid. It hadn't mattered because her husband had died, and without him nothing really mattered.

  Katherine felt a wash of emotions. "I'm sorry, Jessica. You're right. I should focus on being glad Elliott's alive, not worrying about this other silly stuff."

  "I didn't say that."

  "You didn't have to. The truth has a way of making itself heard." Katherine took another sip of the calming tea. "Besides, I didn't mean to pick at your scabs. I guess I've had this brewing in my mind and it just sort of erupted."

  "You know better, Katie," Jessica chided. "You don't have to edit what you tell me. If this has been bothering you, you should have said something."

  "I feel pretty stupid about the whole thing. I hate it when I hear about other women acting like this. I always wonder why they don't trust their husbands – or if they don't, why they don't confront them, get things out in the open."

  Jessica's brow quirked. "You tried that?"

  Katherine smiled sheepishly. "I've stuck to the complacent-wife mold so far."

  "You'll know if there's a right time to say something, or if this is one you just keep under your hat."

  Katherine's expression was rueful. "At this rate I'm going to need a six-foot-tall top hat."

  "That bad?"

  "I loved Elliott just the way he was, but now he's forceful, confident…"

  "More attractive?" Jessica suggested.

  Katherine felt warmth seep into her cheeks. "I guess it sounds silly, but this new edge he has … actually it's more exciting."

  "That doesn't sound like such a bad thing."

  "No. But I wonder what happened to everything that used to matter to him. It's almost as though he's avoiding anything at all to do with food preparation."

  "Maybe, in some weird way, it's tied to his fear of what happened."

  "I don't get it." Katherine shook her head. "He was flying, not cooking, when he had the accident."

  "Not that exactly," Jessica protested. "But maybe his fear is connected to the set of memories that are close to what happened that day, something he's not comfortable with yet."

  Katherine's eyes widened. "Do you think he feels that way about me, too? After all, I'm a big part of that time, the one he seems to want to forget."

  "Jeez, Katie, I didn't mean for you to make a leap like that!"

  "But it makes sense, doesn't it, Jessica?" Katherine set her mug down. "If he wants to forget the pain of that day, I'm a walking reminder. One he can't get away from day or night – unless he goes to meetings, ones that don't have anything to do with business."

  "Oh, Katie, that was the worst leap yet!"

  But Katherine wasn't seeing her friend. Instead, staring out the window, she could see the plane crash, Elliott's uncertainty when he returned. Soberly she turned toward her friend. "No, I'm afraid I'm finally facing the truth."

  * * *

  The star-strewn night sky outdazzled the lights strung around the elaborate reception area. Waves from the bay lapped against the pilings that supported the building's impressive proportions. A Victorian delight, the house for the reception had clapboard siding, cupolas and a widow's walk. It was a setting designed to enchant, a romantic fantasy that promised to add luster to weddings and anniversaries.

  And as the caterers, Paul and Katherine's contribution to this fantasy was to make sure the food and libation flowed smoothly, that the gourmet treats appeared effortlessly, that the glasses of champagne never emptied. It was illusion and packaging. It was stuff and nonsense. But their clients ate it up – figuratively and literally.

  Paul had been watching Katherine for the better part of the evening. Dressed in some sort of lace-and-silk confection, she looked as though she could be the bride, her face aglow, eyes sparkling, a ready smile leaping to her lips time and again.

  Now she approached, her hands filled with a heavy tray of soiled dishes.

  Automatically he took it from her. "There's no need for you to haul around the heaviest stuff here," he admonished.

  She shrugged. "I'm strong. It doesn't hurt me."

  "You're not one of the guys," he continued, surprising both of them.

  For a moment she froze, her wide-eyed gaze catching his. Then her hands ran nervously down the sides of her dress. "I guess I'm not." She pushed self-consciously at the long curly hair that spilled over her shoulders. In that instant she looked like some fey creature – all lace and silk, ivory skin and a cloud of hair.

  "Try to remember that," he added lamely, his own concentration shot to hell as he shoved the dishes onto a waiting cart.

  Again her hands fluttered before falling uselessly to her sides. "I will."

  Unable to halt the motion, he gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. A small diamond earring winked at him, reflecting the moonlight as aptly as an ocean wave.

  "Oh." Katherine sighed the word, a breathy exclamation that captured so much more than the mere utterance.

  "Elliott! Katherine!" Ben called as he approached.

  Frozen in their own tableau, it took them several moments to break apart. But even as the cook approached, Paul couldn't completely sever his concentration. He realized that given a few more minutes, he might have been unable to resist the urge to pull her close, to see if she felt as good as she looked.

  Katherine, seeming ruffled for the first time that evening, turned to Ben. "What is it?"

  "Carter's all bent out of shape. Says we don't have enough oysters and the mangoes aren't ripe."

  Shaking her head as though to clear it, Katherine glanced at Ben. "Can't he improvise? Like Elliott always did?"

  At her words Ben turned to look at Paul.

  Paul concealed a flinch. Naturally they expected him to jump in and whip up something wonderful. But, of course, that wasn't going to happen. "I'll drive back to the kitchens," he said, "grab some oysters, see if we have some other mangoes. Ben, check with Carter and see what other fruit will work
if the mangoes are all too hard. I'll call you on my cell while I'm driving so we won't lose too much time." Striding away, he didn't catch the matching looks of amazement.

  "He's going to call en route?" Ben asked, his voice conveying incredulousness. "I didn't think Elliott even knew how to work a cell phone."

  "Well, he's undergone some changes since the accident," Katherine murmured.

  "Changes, hell. It's like the body snatchers captured him. It's downright spooky."

  "Do me a favor, Ben. Don't tell Elliott you feel that way."

  "Any reason why?"

  Katherine glanced after Elliott. "I'm afraid a lot more has changed than he wants to let on." She sighed, stifling her own frustration. "And I don't think he wants us to know just how much."

  * * *

  Paul sifted through the remnants of the wreckage. It was a pitifully small collection. Their plane hadn't been huge, but certainly far more should have been recovered. How could he summon even a shred of hope for his brother when so little had remained of their plane?

  He bent his head, hiding his reaction from his fellow agents. Oh, Matthew, this can't be all there is. It can't be over like this. Not even one more grin to share.

  John Lewis cleared his throat. "Elliott, I know it doesn't look good…"

  Paul waved the words away. "I see how it looks."

  "The chief isn't prepared to drop the investigation yet."

  Paul released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. If there was even the smallest hope that Matthew was alive… His voice was husky as he replied. "I may be chasing ghosts here, but I'm damned glad the chief sees fit to continue the investigation."

  John clapped a sturdy hand on Paul's shoulder. "We're all in on this one until we find out some answers. If Matthew's wife wasn't behind the sabotage, that leaves a wide-open field of suspects."

  Paul shook his head, remembering his brother's charisma, his talent for creating friends, not enemies. "But who else would want to kill Matthew?"

  John's grim voice was deceptively steady. "That's what we have to find out, my friend. And soon."

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  «^»

  Katherine watched Rod Dennison as he manned the bar. When Jessica had hesitantly asked Katherine to consider hiring him, she hadn't had any reason to refuse. And he seemed to be doing a good job.

  Sensing Elliott's gaze on her, she looked his way, then began weaving through the tables toward him. She smiled, her eyes filled with feeling.

  His hesitation was so brief it was hardly noticeable; then he grinned. "Hey, funny face."

  Katherine blinked, wondering where that term had come from. He'd always called her babe. But she didn't feel like quibbling. "Hey, yourself."

  Elliott glanced around, looking uncomfortable. "I should probably be checking on something."

  She kept her tone amiable. "I don't know. Everything's going smoothly." Unconsciously her gaze strayed back toward Rod.

  Elliott's gaze followed hers. "I'm surprised you hired him—" his brow lifted wryly "—considering he's so well oiled."

  The corners of Katherine's mouth lifted in a rueful grin. "It means a lot to Jessica. And he seems to be a competent bartender."

  "Hardly a glowing commendation." His expression grew thoughtful. "Feeling that way and hiring him, anyway … you're a good friend to Jessica."

  "It works both ways." Katherine paused, remembering the anxious, even terror-filled moments of single parenthood when she'd realized she couldn't work to bring in the needed income and also stay home to take care of a tiny infant. Her disapproving family had remained distant and cold, not offering any support. "Jessica has never hesitated. From day one she's been there for Dustin and me. I can't do any less."

  Elliott was quiet for a moment. "It's an admirable trait. Good friends are undervalued treasures."

  It was Katherine's turn to lift her brow. Philosophy from Elliott? She'd have been just as surprised if he'd begun quoting Shakespeare. But she tried not to show it. "You won't get any argument from me. That's why I hired Rod. I don't suppose I have to be charmed by all the people who work for us."

  "Does that go for any of the other employees?" Elliott asked.

  Puzzled, she tilted her head. "I'm not sure what you mean. You know we handpicked everyone else." Oh, God. Had he forgotten that, too?

  "I know that," he said dismissively. "But it doesn't mean you have to love them all."

  Frowning, she considered this. "Maybe not. But it's part of why going to work is so much fun. I can't imagine allowing it to become one of those places where people aren't happy. That's one of the best things about being self-employed."

  "Don't like kitchen politics, eh?"

  Katherine flushed, realizing she'd mounted her own platform. "I guess I've had more than my share, working for other people. You remember that hotel I worked for?"

  He nodded.

  "Way too much politics. They had a chain of command that would intimidate the Pentagon, and that just wasn't for me. I wanted to be recognized because I had brains and talent, not because I pandered to whichever manager was the flavor of the day." Taking a breath, she released it quickly, ending on a small laugh. "We're so lucky, having our own business. It might have its ups and downs, but…"

  "Any downs in particular?" he asked with apparent increased interest.

  "You know, just the usual. When the revenues fluctuate, when we don't get the jobs we really want…"

  His gaze was still sharp. "That reminds me. The chamber of commerce wants us to cater their next fundraiser, and the chairman has an anniversary coming up, as well."

  Katherine's smile broadened. "I thought you were drumming up business."

  Elliott halted midmovement. "Oh?"

  "Yes. I caught that from across the room."

  "Did you want in on the discussion?"

  She shook her head. "You've always been better at bringing in the clients. I just wanted to connect with you. It seems like we haven't had a moment together in—" she smiled and amended her words "—too long. I miss that."

  His expression remained unchanging. "Me, too. But I don't want you to take on the bulk of the work."

  Impulsively she reached out to take his hand. "I never feel that way. Except for the time it takes me away from you and Dustin, I wouldn't care if I worked from dawn to midnight. We're building more than a business – we're creating a future. Every time I see Dustin making a mud pie, I can't help but wonder if he'll take over the reins one day." She laughed self-consciously. "Or maybe he'll have dreams of his own. Will he grow up to be a doctor, plumber, lawyer, soldier, fireman…"

  "Or president?" Elliott suggested.

  She laughed again. "Plumber to president? I guess that covers just about everything. Just as long as he's happy – and safe – I won't care."

  "You've got time before you need to worry. He's still a little boy."

  Katherine swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. "But then, we've only been together a short time, too." Her voice nearly dried up as tears threatened. "Taking life for granted, wishing so many of the less-than-perfect days away – it seems incredibly foolish now. But I never expected this kind of wakeup call."

  "No need to get upset," Elliott chided. "Look how lucky we were."

  Lucky? This kind hand of fate was far more than luck. She glanced toward the bar and caught a glimpse of Jessica as she stood next to Rod. But for that miracle, she could be standing in her friend's shoes, wishing for a husband who would never return home.

  * * *

  Sunshine streamed through the generous windows in the kitchens of Combined Catering. Light danced off the shiny copper pots and pans hanging from the carousel above the counters. White tile and buttercup-colored walls continued the cheerful theme.

  But Paul wasn't feeling very cheerful.

  He intended to goad the employees into revealing how they really felt about working for Katherine. Gritting his teeth and ignoring his misgivings, he watched them wo
rk in the kitchen. He had to decide who was going to be the unwitting pawn in his plan.

  Approaching Carter, the sous-chef, Paul made sure Katherine was in hearing distance. "Do you have a new angle for tonight's menu?"

  Carter paused. "New?"

  "Yeah. Something a little more … daring than what you've come up with lately."

  Carter's brows drew together. "Daring?"

  "Yep. People have commented that we're not quite as cutting edge as they expect."

  "Then maybe you ought to get back to the helm," Carter suggested, his voice rising with each word.

  Katherine had inched closer and now she patted Carter's arm. "I don't think Elliott feels quite like taking that on just yet." Her wide eyes implored Carter to calm down.

  Paul watched as Carter took a deep breath. "Yeah, okay."

  Katherine sighed audibly.

  But it wasn't time to let up yet, Paul knew. "No, not okay. What are you going to do about tonight's menu?"

  Carter's jaw worked. Then he glanced at Katherine. "I'll work on it."

  Paul nodded. "Good." Purposely he walked away, around the corner and out of sight – but not earshot.

  Katherine began placating the other man. "I'm sorry, Carter. I'm sure it's just a result of his injury. You know Elliott would never have acted this way when he was…"

  "Normal?" Carter supplied.

  "I think the accident was really traumatic for him," Katherine continued, her voice cracking. "He hasn't said, but I can tell." She took a deep breath. "It was great of you not to take it personally."

  "Right," Carter muttered.

  "Really. A lesser man wouldn't have been as understanding. And when Elliott's back to being himself, you'll see. It'll have been worth it for everyone to pull together."

  "I wouldn't do this for anyone but you, Katherine. Hell, you know I can take my act somewhere else and not miss a beat. I've had plenty of offers."

  "Which is why I appreciate your generosity all the more. Elliott's frozen up about returning to his work – which is probably why he's picking on yours. But without you, I'm not sure how the business would make it. We need you now more than ever."

 

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