Tender Deception: A Novel of Romance

by Beckman, Patti

  She accepted his invitation. Kirk escorted her to a quiet table in a secluded corner. She ordered a cup of coffee. He had a refill of his double Scotch. The heavy way he was drinking had her puzzled and strangely concerned.

  “What part of the country are you from, Miss Smith?” he asked.

  “New Mexico—Albuquerque,” she said.

  “Is Billie Smith your real name, or a professional name?”

  “Why do you ask?” she countered, suddenly wary.

  “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to be giving you the third degree. It’s just that you remind me so much of Lilly, my wife, that I wondered if by some freak coincidence you were related to her. She didn’t have any immediate relatives that I knew of, but I thought you might be a cousin. She came from a little town in Louisiana, Millerdale. But I’m sure you would have known if you had a relative like Lilly. I realize people don’t have to be related to resemble one another. It’s quite common to run into ‘look-alikes.’ I once had a business associate who was a dead ringer for Walter Cronkite. People were always coming up to him on the street and asking for his autograph.”

  Lilly smiled. “Well, I don’t have any relatives in Louisiana.”

  Kirk nodded. “It’s such a coincidence that you also play piano. My wife was exceptionally talented. She had perfect pitch, and was remarkably adept at sight reading as well. She knew many of the classical compositions as well as jazz. She could play Chopin or Debussy, and turn right around and play a Scott Joplin rag. Being a musician, you no doubt are familiar with Bix Beiderbecke, the legendary jazz cornettist. Not everyone knows he also played piano and composed. Not many jazz pianists can play his compositions, In a Mist and Candlelight, but Lilly knew them well.”

  Lilly thought she should be flattered, but instead felt the old anger returning. “Apparently,” she said dryly, “her musical ability was the thing most important to you.”

  The irony in her voice seemed to escape him. He stared into his glass with a brooding expression, then downed the drink. “It’s odd that you should say that,” he sighed heavily. “She accused me of that very thing. I don’t think she ever quite understood. For someone as untalented as myself, she was someone extremely special, far closer to the Gods than I could aspire to being. I was almost in reverence of her talent. But to be completely truthful,” he nodded sadly, “I know now it’s true. That’s exactly why I did want her in the first place. She was like a rare jewel that I had to own. Beautiful women are not difficult to find. I could have had my pick. But to find one with her incredible talent as well as her beauty and physical appeal—that comes to a man only once in a lifetime. It wasn’t until later—too late, I’m sorry to say—that I realized how much I loved her.”

  Lilly’s fingers holding the cup of coffee suddenly trembled. She quickly put the cup down and hid her hands in her lap. She stared at him. “You—loved her?” she asked in a dazed voice.

  “Certainly,” he said, frowning angrily. “You don’t think I’d still be grieving if I hadn’t loved her, do you? I lost her months ago, but I miss her more every day that passes.”

  Lilly was unable to speak. Her emotions had suddenly been up-ended. She stared at Kirk Remington, making a supreme effort to marshal her dazed thoughts.

  “What do you mean, you realized too late?” she stammered.

  “To be honest, I’m not sure I was in love with her when we first married. I was getting over an unhappy love affair. As for Lilly—well, there was another man in her life. My own brother, to be exact. She had known him long before she met me. I doubted that she ever loved me the way she did him. I was quite angry and jealous over their relationship. In any case, the longer we were together, the more precious Lilly became to me. But when I finally realized how much I did love her, I lost her before I could tell her.” He laughed ruefully. “And here I am, telling you, a stranger, the things I couldn’t tell the woman I loved. But that’s human nature, isn’t it? Sometimes we can say things to strangers that we can’t bring ourselves to say to those closest to ourselves—”

  He suddenly broke off. He placed his empty glass on the table with a sharp click. “I hope you’ll forgive me for unloading all this personal garbage on you, Miss Smith. You can blame it on the drinks. I’m normally a very private person.”

  “That’s—all right,” she said. Never in her wildest imagination had she believed she could feel any compassion for Kirk Remington. But now her bitterness toward him was fading as her heart reacted with sympathy. He was obviously a tortured man. Her mind and emotions were in a tailspin.

  “I suppose you’ve had drunks crying on your shoulder before, Miss Smith,” he apologized. “It must go with the territory of being a pianist in a cocktail lounge—kind of like a bartender who listens to everyone’s troubles. I apologize for becoming so maudlin, but I do thank you for listening. It helps to talk with someone. I usually keep my feelings to myself. Seeing someone who resembled my wife so much brought it all to the surface, I guess.”

  “It’s all right,” she murmured. “But it is time for me to go back to work—”

  “Of course!” He pulled himself together with an effort, and again became the polished, restrained gentleman, escorting her back to the piano with smooth, good manners.

  That night, Lilly spent sleepless hours replaying the conversation in her mind. Kirk was in love with her. It was incredible! She hadn’t believed him capable of any emotion.

  Her own reaction to his surprising revelation was hard for her to analyze. She felt confused, bewildered. For so long, the only feeling she had had toward Kirk Remington was anger and bitterness. Now, suddenly, her attitude was no longer so clearly defined. Things were no longer simply black and white.

  Kirk had become a far more complex man than she had ever suspected. When she was living with him, she believed she had understood what motivated him. She had seen him as a cold, ruthless man driven by the need for power. She had been convinced that he was incapable of feeling any love or tenderness for her.

  Had losing her changed him so drastically? Or had she not fully understood him before?

  The next night, she found herself almost hoping he would return. She felt a need that she didn’t fully understand, to talk with him some more, to hear him express his feelings. For some reason, she needed to have more input. She needed to sort this new development of feelings out. She felt confused and bewildered. He had succeeded in throwing her life off course. He was good at that! She remembered what she had told Raven Brownfeather, “I can have plans for my life all neatly lined up, and then Kirk can scatter things in all directions.”

  He added to her distraught state by not coming back to the lounge for several nights. Jimmy LaCross called her, but she made an excuse not to go with him. She didn’t want to see Jimmy again until she got some things about Kirk straightened out in her mind. Being with Jimmy under these circumstances would only add to her confusion.

  On Friday, Kirk appeared in the lounge again. Seeing him, Lilly felt conflicting emotions storm through her. As he approached the piano, something inside her trembled.

  He took his usual seat. Lilly glanced up, forcing a smile. He nodded, his brooding eyes engulfing her. For a tense moment, she was unable to tear her gaze away. His look searched deeply, touching deep recesses of her being with a vibrant intensity.

  Finally, she brought her gaze back to the keyboard. She felt almost too weak to press the keys. What was this unearthly power the man had over her? After all the grief he had put her through, that black-eyed look of his could still turn her world upside down!

  He didn’t speak to her until her first break. Then, as she was leaving the piano, he moved to her side. “Miss Smith...Billie...could I speak to you for just a moment?”

  “Y—Yes.”

  “After the way I carried on the last time, I wouldn’t blame you if you’d prefer not to have any more to do with me. But I have found the courage in spite of that, to ask if I could see you sometime when you’re not working?” />
  She stared at him, wide-eyed, playing his words over in her mind. He had spoken in his characteristic, formal manner, each word precisely enunciated. Yet she had difficulty in grasping the full meaning.

  She felt a hysterical impulse to giggle. The situation was totally bizarre. Without realizing it, he was asking his “dead wife” for a date! But she was more disturbed than amused.

  She did want to see him again! This masquerade of hers was getting out of hand. If he was truly as grief-stricken as he appeared, then she was going to have problems with her own guilt. She needed to spend some time with him, to gain a better measure of his true feelings—and hers—in the light of this new development. She might as well be candid with herself. No matter how bitter she had been toward him, they were married, they had lived together. It wasn’t possible to be that intimate with another person and not leave something of yourself behind.

  She nodded slowly. “I have this Sunday off. The club will be closed that night....”

  For the first time, she saw a flicker of light in his dulled eyes. “Suppose I pick you up Sunday morning and we drive to Muir Woods for a picnic. It should be very pleasant there this time of the year. We could spend the day.”

  “All right.” She gave him her address.

  From that time until Sunday morning, her emotions were a battleground. She spent part of the time berating herself for accepting the invitation, and part of the time being glad she had agreed to go with him.

  Sunday morning dawned unusually warm and sunny for San Francisco. Perhaps, she hoped, it was a good omen. It would be a warm drive, so she dressed casually in shorts, a blouse and sandals.

  He called for her promptly at ten o’clock. He was wearing tan slacks and a white sport shirt open at the collar. The shimmering white material was a stark contrast against his olive complexion. The open throat of the shirt revealed a glimpse of the tightly curled black hair on his chest.

  Her gaze was pulled to the masculine contours of his body outlined by the tight fitting slacks. She remembered the nights their bodies had been clasped in passionate love-making, and a hot flush spread up her cheeks.

  “We’re going to have a beautiful drive,” he commented as he escorted her out to his Mercedes sports coupe parked at the curb with the wheels cut to prevent its rolling down the steep grade. “I’m going to leave the top down if that’s all right with you.”

  “That will be fine. I’ve brought a scarf for my hair.”

  He opened her door. When she was in the car, he walked around to the driver’s side and slid behind the steering wheel. “I’m glad to see you’re prepared for a warm drive,” he said, his gaze straying to her bare legs.

  She felt a prickling sensation ripple through her body. She remembered, with a sudden quickening of her pulse, those times they had been so good with each other.

  The Golden Gate bridge was nestled in a pocket of fog, its cables dissolving in the mist. Lilly shivered with the chill of the damp air. But then they had crossed the bridge and emerged in the sunlight.

  From here, past Sausalito and into the hills north of San Francisco, they were bathed in the rays of a bright, warm sun. They exchanged only a few words. Lilly settled against the cushions of the expensive car, enjoying the smooth ride. It was the first time she had gone for a long drive with Kirk. He handled the car with the same sure skill as he flew a plane. Her eyes strayed to his strong, capable hands gripping the wheel. She remembered that she always felt secure from the dangers of the world when she was with him. No matter what might befall them, he was the type who could handle anything or anybody.

  The final lap of the journey took them through winding, corkscrew turns, down to the valley where the redwood forest was located, a 550-acre national monument on the southwest corner of Mount Tamalpais. They entered Muir Woods. Lilly gazed up at the breathtaking grandeur of the enormous redwoods whose lofty spires reached for the clouds.

  “It’s awesome,” she gasped. “I feel like I’m in a cathedral built by the hand of God.”

  “Very well put,” he nodded. “This is certainly grander than anything we poor mortals could devise.”

  He stopped the car in a designated parking area. When he switched off his engine, the silence of the great forest fell upon them, the hush broken only by an occasional bird’s call. The noise, pollution and stress of the civilized world became a bad dream in another existence. Sunlight glittered through a canopy of leaves that kept most of the forest floor in deep, cool shade. Clear, cold streams played soft music through the lush undergrowth of these ancient woods.

  Picnicking was not allowed in the national park, so they went to a nearby park area where they found a secluded corner. Kirk took a picnic basket from the car and spread the lunch he had brought. Lilly was not surprised to find a gourmet meal that included cold wine, caviar, imported cheeses and French pastries. Kirk had a way of doing these things with style.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Starved,” she nodded.

  Kirk ate sparingly, watching her enjoy the lunch.

  “I’m afraid I’m being a glutton,” she apologized. “But I don’t care. It’s all so delicious. And these beautiful surroundings are wonderful for the appetite.”

  “I’m pleased that you’re enjoying yourself.” He sipped a glass of wine, leaning on his elbow in the grass as he gazed at the wall of trees. He seemed to be looking through them, lost in thought. Then he brought his attention back to her. “Billie, I want to thank you for giving me your company for today. I’ve been leading something of a reclusive existence since I lost my wife.”

  “But surely your wife would want you to go on living.” She couldn’t restrain the edge that crept into her voice. “I’m sure you must have another romantic interest to console you.”

  He frowned. “Why would you say that?”

  She shrugged, realizing she was treading on dangerous ground. Making an effort to stifle her jealous anger, she said, “You’re an extremely attractive man. There must be other women in your life.” She hesitated, but couldn’t resist another probe. “How about the broken romance you mentioned, the one you were getting over when you met your wife?”

  Kirk waved his hand impatiently. “That was over a long time ago.”

  Lilly stared at him, now totally baffled. How could he possibly dismiss his involvement with Marie Algretto so lightly? There would be no reason for him to lie, since he believed Billie to be a total stranger. Lilly was becoming even more confused.

  To cover her turmoil, she changed the subject. “What happened to your wife?”

  “She disappeared while flying her private plane. She had filed a flight plan to Las Vegas, but she never arrived. We think she went down somewhere in the desert. There’s some wild country and mountains in Nevada. A plane could crash in a remote area and never be found. There were search parties, but the wreckage was never located....”

  He sighed. A sudden wrenching pain crossed his face. “I bought her that plane, encouraged her interest in flying. I have trouble forgiving myself for that.”

  “But if she died in a plane crash, it was an accident. It wasn’t your fault.”

  The shadows in his eyes deepened. “Well, there’s another factor. Something happened that night that I fear might have caused her to rush away from home and could have played a part in her accident.” He hesitated. “I’ve gone this far. Do you want to hear the rest of it?”

  She shrugged. “If you feel like talking about it,” she murmured, making a supreme effort to hide her personal involvement in a subject that was wrenching violently at her heart.

  “Have you ever heard of Marie Algretto?”

  “The opera singer? Yes, of course.” Lilly swallowed hard and hid her gaze from him.

  “She was the woman in my life before I met Lilly. It was over between Marie and me, but I could never convince my wife of that. I could hardly blame her. A scandal sheet tabloid printed a picture of Marie at a café with me in Italy when I was there on a busines
s trip. It was totally innocent. She just happened to arrive with mutual acquaintances. But my wife saw the picture and was convinced I was continuing the affair with Marie.”

  “Marie was scheduled to appear in an opera in San Francisco. That week, I had to fly to Chicago on business and Lilly was performing in Las Vegas. I finished my business earlier than I’d anticipated and returned to San Francisco. That same day, Marie Algretto had arrived in the city. Even though our romance had ended long before, we were civilized people who remained friends. She was having some difficulty with her hotel accommodations. She was exhausted from her flight and suffering from a migraine headache. Some construction work was going on in her hotel. It was impossible for her to get any rest under those noisy conditions. She was terribly upset, knowing she had a difficult performance ahead of her that night. She knew I was living in San Francisco and phoned me at my office. She explained her plight. I suppose it was not very wise of me, but on an impulse, I invited her to go to our home to rest and freshen up before her performance. After all, Lilly was in Las Vegas and I was at my office downtown. It just seemed like an act of hospitality—almost an act of mercy—for an old friend, and altogether innocent. I called home and instructed the maid to let Marie in when she arrived.”

  “I was at my office until late that evening. I drove home in time to have a drink with her and chat for a few minutes, then I drove her to her performance.”

  “As near as I can reconstruct it, Lilly came back from Las Vegas that same evening. The maid said Lilly came home but left again very shortly, taking a suitcase. The maid said my wife appeared to have been crying and was obviously upset. The airport records show she had her plane refueled, filed a flight plan back to Las Vegas, and took off close to midnight.”

  “Now I have to believe that Lilly found out Miss Algretto had been at the house with me and had jumped to entirely the wrong conclusions, thinking I’d had some kind of romantic encounter with an old flame in our home. In that emotional state, she might not have concentrated on her flying. That could have been a factor in her crash. So you can see why I feel so guilty. Why else would Lilly have turned right around and rushed back to Las Vegas in the middle of the night?”