Chesapeake Blue

by Nora Roberts

  "I don't know. I'll think about it. It was lovely to meet you, Seth. I hope to see you again, very soon."

  "That'd be great. Have a good trip."

  He waited, tapping his fingers on his thighs as Dru walked her mother out. More like goose-stepped her out, he corrected. He saw, through the window, her loading Katherine into a cream-colored Mercedes sedan, with uniformed driver.

  It reminded him of a small point he'd forgotten. Dru's family was loaded. Easy enough to forget it, he mused. She didn't live rich. She lived normal.

  When she came back in, she locked the door, then leaned back against it. "I'm sorry."

  "For what?"

  "For using you to wheedle out of a very uncomfortable situation."

  "What are friends for?" He moved to her, tapped her chin with his finger. "Do you want to tell me why she was crying and you looked so miserable?"

  "She wanted me to go to Paris. Just like that," Dru added, lifting her hands, then letting them drop. "She'd made all the arrangements without asking me, then drove down here expecting me to leap with joy, rush out and pack a bag and go."

  "I guess some people would have."

  "Some people don't have a business to run," she snapped. "Some people haven't already been to Paris more times then they can count anyway. And some people don't like to have their lives neatly arranged for them as if they were still eight years old."

  "Sugar." Because he could feel her vibrating with anger and frustration, he rubbed his hands down her arms. "I didn't say you should have, but that some people would have. Got you wound up, didn't she?"

  "She nearly always does. And I know she doesn't actually mean to. She really thinks she's doing it for me. They both do, and that makes it worse. She makes assumptions she shouldn't make, makes decisions for me she no longer has the right to make, then I hurt her feelings when I don't go along."

  "If it makes you feel any better, I got reamed by Cam this morning because I haven't been around and forgot to do some stuff I said I'd do."

  Dru angled her head. "Did he cry?"

  "He might've gotten a little misty. Okay, no," he said, relieved when her mouth curved. "But we were on the verge of punching each other when Phil broke it up."

  "Well, I can hardly hit my mother. Did you work it out with your brother?"

  "Yeah, we're okay. I need to go by and grovel to Anna for a while, but I thought I'd drop off the boat design." He nodded toward the large folder he'd set on the counter.

  "Oh." She pressed her fingers to her temples. "Can I look at it later? I need to close up or I'll be late for my class."

  "Yoga. Oh yeah. You shouldn't miss that. We still on for tonight?"

  "Do you want to be on for tonight?"

  "I've been thinking about you all day. About being with you."

  It warmed her. "I suppose I might have given you a passing thought. Though I've been pretty busy in here today."

  "So I hear. Will came by the boatyard and nearly gave Aub a heart attack with that forest of roses."

  "Did she like them?"

  "She got gooey—and it's not easy to make Aubrey gooey. Will, on the other hand, looked dead on his feet. I figure he's got to be seriously stuck on her to come by here, buy flowers, give them to her when he looked like he hadn't slept for a week."

  "I liked him, and his brother. You're lucky to have friends that go back to childhood."

  "Don't you?"

  "Not really. In any case," she went on to avoid the subject, "I had yet another odd visit just before he came in. Some woman," she continued as she cashed out, locked up her cash from the day. "She claimed to know my mother, but once she started talking, I knew she didn't. Not only from what she said, but how she looked. That sounds like snobbery, but it's just logic."

  "How did she look?"

  "Hard, cheap and not like anyone who's ever worked on a charity committee with my mother. She was pumping me, feeling me out." Dru shrugged. "Not that unusual when you come from an influential family."

  There was ice in the pit of his stomach. "What did she say? What did she do?"

  "Nothing much. I think she was laying groundwork for something, but then Will came in. She bought some carnations and left. Funny, he said he thought he recognized her from somewhere."

  And now a sickness coated his throat. "She tell you her name?"

  "Mmm? Yes." Dru took a last glance around, gathered her purse and keys. "Harrow, Glo Harrow. I've really got to get moving."

  She stopped short, surprised when his hand clamped down on her arm. "Seth?"

  "If she comes in again, I want you to call me."

  "Why? She's just some woman hoping to con me out of some money, or an introduction to my grandfather. Believe me, I've handled that sort of thing all my life."

  "I want you to promise me. I mean it. If she comes in, you go in the back, pick up the phone and call me."

  She started to tell him she didn't need protection, but there was a fire, an urgency in his voice that had her nodding instead. "All right. I promise."

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Contents - Prev | Next

  HE HAD TO WAIT until morning, until Dru slipped downstairs to prepare her daily orders. He'd barely slept. Though he'd struggled to lock the turmoil aside, he'd lain awake most of the night.

  Even the pleasure of having Dru curled beside him had been tainted.

  But he had to be sure.

  Though his gut told him Gloria had tromped on yet another part of his life, he knocked on the McLean brothers' apartment door. He had to be sure.

  Dressed for work, an enormous cup of coffee in his hand, Dan answered. "Hey, what's up? You just caught me. I've got an early meeting."

  "I need to talk to Will."

  "Good luck. He's the dead man in the bedroom down the hall. Want coffee? He'll probably pull his resurrection act by noon."

  "This can't wait."

  "Hey, Seth, really, the guy's wasted." Since Seth was already walking through the debris of the living room, Dan went after him. "No, that's mine." Resigned, Dan jerked a thumb toward a second door. There was a sign tacked to it that advised:

  Take two aspirin and go far, far away.

  Seth didn't bother to knock, but pushed the door open into the dark. Through the light that spilled in from the hallway, Seth could see blackout drapes were pulled tight over the window. The room itself was barely closet-size and mostly bed.

  Will lay on it, faceup, his arms flung out to the sides as if he'd fallen backward in that position and hadn't moved since. He wore Marvin the Martian boxer shorts and one sock.

  He snored.

  "Let me get my camera," Dan mumbled. "Listen, Seth, this is his first chance for eight straight in two weeks. He wanted to make up time with Aubrey, so he didn't get in until after two. He was barely conscious when he came in the door."

  "It's important."

  "Well, shit." Dan walked over to the window. "He'll probably be speaking in tongues." And ruthlessly whipped the drapes back.

  The bright morning sun flashed over the bed. Will didn't twitch. Seth leaned over the bed, shook Will by the shoulder. "Wake up."

  "Glumph missitop."

  "Told ya." Dan moved to the bed. "Here's how it works." He put his mouth close to Will's ear and shouted, "Code blue! Code blue! Dr. McLean, report to Exam Room Three. Stat!"

  "Whazit?" Will sprang into a sitting position as if the top half of his body had been shot from a bow. "Where's the crash cart? Where's…" Some part of his brain cleared as he blinked into Seth's face. "Aw fuck." He started to flop back, but Seth grabbed his arm.

  "I have to talk to you."

  "You bleeding internally?"

  "No."

  "You will be if you don't get the hell out of here and let me sleep." He grabbed a pillow from behind him, put it over his face to block out the light. "Don't see a guy in years, then you can't get rid of him. Go away, and take the moron who used to be my brother with you."

  "You were
in Dru's shop yesterday."

  "I'm gonna cry in a minute."

  "Will." Seth yanked the pillow away. "The woman who was in there when you came in. You said you thought you recognized her."

  "Right now I wouldn't recognize my own mother. In fact, who the hell are you and what are you doing in my bedroom? I'm calling the cops."

  "Tell me what she looked like."

  "If I tell you, will you go away?"

  "Yeah. Please."

  "Christ, let me think." Yawning hugely, Will scrubbed his hands over his face. He sniffed. Sniffed again. "Coffee." His eyes began to track until they landed on Dan's cup. "I want that coffee."

  "This is mine, jerkwad."

  "Give me that goddamn coffee or I'm telling Mom you think that yellow dress makes her ass look fat. Your life won't be worth living."

  "Give him the damn coffee," Seth snapped.

  Dan handed it over.

  Will slurped, gulped. Seth waited for him to just dunk his head in the oversized cup and lap with his tongue. "Okay, what was the question?"

  Seth fisted a hand at his side, imagined his rage inside it. Trapped and controlled. "The woman you saw in Dru's shop."

  "Yeah, right." Will yawned again, tried to concentrate. "Something about her weirded me out. Dressed like she should've been working a corner in Baltimore. Not that I'd know anything about that," he added with a cherubic smile. "Bleached, bony, blond. What my dad would call shopworn. Diagnosis from a quick visual would be serious alcohol abuse, along with some recreational chemicals. Bad tone to her skin. Liver damage, probably."

  "How old?" Seth demanded.

  "Running toward fifty, but hard years. Could've been younger. Serious smoker's rasp, too. She leaves her body to science, we ain't getting much out of it."

  "Yeah." Seth sat heavily on the side of the bed.

  "Like I told Dru, there was something familiar about her. Couldn't place it. Maybe it was just the type. Hard, edgy, sort of, I dunno, predatory. What? Did she come back and hassle Dru? I'd've hung around if I'd thought…"

  Then his jaw dropped as the picture fell into place. "Oh shit. Jesus Christ on a crutch. Gloria DeLauter."

  Seth pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. "Fuck me."

  "Wait a minute, wait a minute." Dan held up both hands. "You're saying Gloria DeLauter was in Dru's flower shop? Yesterday? That can't be. She's gone, she's been gone for years."

  "It was her," Will stated. "It didn't click until just now. We only saw her that one time," he said to Dan, "but it's a pretty strong memory. Her yelling and trying to get Seth in that car. Sybill knocking her down, Foolish snarling like he was going to take a chunk out of her. She's changed, but not that much."

  "No." Seth dropped his hands. "Not that much."

  "What the hell's she doing back here?" Will demanded. "You're not a kid now. She can't try to drag you off so she can squeeze your brothers for ransom or some shit. She can't be looking for a sloppy mother-son reunion, so what's the point?"

  "Will's a little slow," Dan commented, "especially when it comes to the dark side. Money would be the point, right, Seth? Our pal here's a successful artist, climbing up the shiny ladder of fame and fortune. Whatever hole she's been in, she'd have heard about it. Now she's back wanting her cut of the profits."

  "That covers most of it," Seth grumbled.

  "I still don't get it." Will shoved at his hair. "You don't owe her a damn thing. She's got nothing on you."

  "I've been paying her for years."

  "Aw hell, Seth."

  "She just kept popping up. I gave her money so she'd go away again. Stupid, but I couldn't see what else to do to keep her from hassling my family. They'd gotten the business off the ground, and the kids were coming along. I didn't want her making trouble for them."

  "They don't know?" Will asked.

  "No, I never told anybody." He'd put it inside, in the place he tried to keep locked away from what his life had become. "She tracked me down in Rome a few months ago. That's when I figured there wasn't any point in me being three thousand miles away. I wanted to come home. She hit me up again about a week ago. Usually she backs off for longer. A year or two. I thought I'd bought some time. But if she went into Dru's shop, it wasn't because she wanted to buy some fucking daisies."

  "What do you want us to do?" Dan asked him.

  "Nothing you can do. Just keep a lid on this until I figure it out. Meanwhile, I'll wait. See what she does next."

  BUT HE COULDN'T just wait. He spent hours driving to hotels, motels, B and B's trying to find her, without a clue what he'd do if and when he did.

  He started the search with more fury than plan, thinking only that he needed to confront her, to drive her off by whatever means necessary. But as he drove to and from hotels, he began to cool off. He began to think as she thought. Coldly.

  If she thought Dru mattered to him, she would be used. Tool, weapon, victim. Very likely all three. If and when he found her, he would need to take care to paint his relationship with Dru as a casual one. Even a callous one.

  If there was one thing Gloria understood, even respected, it was using someone else. Using anyone else for your own purposes.

  As long as she thought he was using Dru for sex and studio space, Dru would be safe.

  Then at least one person he cared about wouldn't be smeared with Gloria's brush.

  He was forty miles outside of St. Christopher before he found an answer.

  The motel boasted a pool, cable TV and family suites. The desk clerk was young and perky enough to make Seth decide she'd been hired as summer help.

  He leaned on the counter, spoke in a friendly manner. "Hi. How's it going?"

  "Just fine, thanks. Will you be checking in?"

  "No, I'm here to see a friend. Gloria DeLauter?"

  "DeLauter. One moment, please." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she began to tap her keyboard. "Um, could you spell the last name?"

  "Sure."

  When he had, she tapped again, then looked up apologetically. "I'm sorry. There's no DeLauter registered."

  "Huh. Oh, you know what, she might've registered under Harrow. That's the name she uses for business."

  "Gloria Harrow?" She went back to the keyboard, then frowned. "I'm afraid Miss Harrow checked out."

  "She checked out?" Seth straightened, did everything he could to keep his tone mild. "When?"

  "Just this morning. I checked her out myself."

  "That's weird. Blond? Thin? About this tall." He held up a hand to estimate.

  "Yes, that's right."

  "Well, hell, I must've messed up the dates. Thanks." He started out, then turned back casually. "She didn't mention heading down to Saint Christopher, did she?"

  "No. Seems to me she headed out the other way. Gosh, I hope nothing's wrong."

  "Just a mix-up," he said and let himself feel a cautious trickle of relief. "Thanks for your help."

  HE TOLD HIMSELF she was gone. She'd taken the ten thousand and split. She'd checked out Dru, and that was worrying, but Seth imagined Gloria had, once she'd met her, dismissed the idea of him and Dru having any sort of serious relationship she could exploit.

  The fact was, he was far from sure where he stood with Dru himself.

  She wasn't the type who wore her heart on her sleeve, he thought. Or anywhere else he could get a good look at it. And wasn't part of his fascination with her the very fact that she was so contained?

  At least it had been; interest and attraction had melded into something a great deal stronger.

  Now he wanted more.

  One way he used to see into people was by painting them.

  He knew she was far from sold on the idea of posing for him again—particularly in the way he had in mind. But he set up his studio on Sunday morning as if she were in enthusiastic agreement.

  "Why won't you just take money for the painting?"

  "I don't want money." He arranged the sheets on the bed, ones he'd borrowed from Phil afte
r a raid on his brother's linen closet.

  The material was soft, would drape fluidly. And their color, the palest honeysuckle, would be perfect against the bold red of the rose petals and the delicate white of Dru's skin.

  He wanted that mix of tones and moods—warm, hot, cool—because she was all of them.

  "That's the point of selling your work, isn't it?" She clutched her robe closed at the throat and cast uneasy glances at the bed. "To make money?"

  "I don't paint for money. That's a handy by-product, and I leave it to my rep."

  "I'm not a model."

  "I don't want a model either." Dissatisfied, he shoved, dragged, pushed, until he'd changed the angle and position of the bed. "Professionals can give you a terrific study. But I find using regular people gives me more. Besides, I can't use anyone but you for this work."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's you."

  She hissed between her teeth as he opened the first bag of petals. "What does that mean?"

  "I see you." He tossed petals on the sheets in seemingly random patterns. "Just relax and leave it to me."

  "I can't possibly relax when I'm lying naked on a bed strewn with rose petals and you're staring at me."

  "Sure you can." He added more petals, stepped back, considered.

  "We made love on that bed a few hours ago."

  "Exactly." Now he looked at her, smiled. "It'd help if you thought about that when I'm working."

  "Oh, did you have sex with me to put me in the right mood?"

  "No, I had sex with you because I can't seem to get enough of you. But the mood's another handy by-product."