“That’s true.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, for starters, she took over running the household when she and Mr. Bennett married. She can tell you everything you’d need to know about what condition the house is in and any special care and maintenance it needs. Of course—” She batted her eyes at him. “I’d be able to do that for you as well.”
“So I’ve been told.” He paused to take another drink, using the break to collect his thoughts before continuing casually, “She also seems pretty confident she can get me up to speed on my father’s business.”
“She can, absolutely. One of the reasons she hired me was because your father was starting to make more demands on her time for business matters. She regularly attended board meetings with him. I think Mr. Bennett knew his condition was worsening. He seemed to be grooming her, and it was fortunate he’d had such foresight because before long she was acting as his proxy and reporting back to him. She kept him involved whenever possible, but it became less practical near the end. For the last six months, for all intents and purpose, she has been the acting chairman of BDI. She is absolutely your best source of information about the workings of the company and your father’s objectives for its future.”
It took a few moments for Griffin to close his gaping mouth after Ephie stopped speaking. Her explanation, though enlightening, had sounded suspiciously rehearsed.
“Are you sure she didn’t send you in here?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because that sounded very much like a pro-Lillian public service announcement.”
Ephie chuckled. “In the interest of total disclosure, I do think she’s wonderful. But everything I said is absolutely true.”
“I believe you. I just can’t, for the life of me, understand why.”
“Why what?”
“Why she invested so much time and energy. She isn’t going to receive anything from my father’s estate. Did you know that?” He leaned forward to place his water glass back on the coffee table. “She even signed a ridiculous prenuptial agreement that allowed her no bearing once my father died. So, as far as I can figure, she gave eleven years of her life to a dying, old man for nothing more than room and board.”
“Wow!” Her laugh had no humor in it. “What made you so cynical? The army? Or maybe being alone all these years?”
“What did you say?” He narrowed his eyes at her, a suspicion growing in his mind.
He straightened in his seat as the explanation for the inconsistencies which had nagged at him since his arrival—how Lillian had known how to reach him and how Ephie had recognized him so easily—became forehead-smackingly evident. They’d done their homework. It probably hadn’t taken much. He didn’t have the most common name, and he knew searching it would produce a fair share of relevant hits. He certainly hadn’t done it by design but, between his unconventional military career and tech-savvy business partner, Griffin knew he had a sizeable web presence.
“Aren’t you the perfect little Nancy Drew?”
“You have to understand.” She fidgeted beside him, a red stain creeping up her neck and over her cheeks as he continued to stare. “Any news, the smallest thing, the tiniest detail, it made your father, Mr. Bennett, so happy. I felt guilty, of course I did. But once I started, I couldn’t take it away from him. I just couldn’t.”
“Him? What are you talking about? You spied on me for my father?”
“Yes,” she admitted sheepishly, meeting his gaze. “At least I did after he became too ill and Lillian too busy. That’s when I took over.”
“I don’t understand. Are you telling me he’s been keeping tabs on me? Since when?”
“From the moment you walked out the front door, I think. Are you all right?”
He looked away, unable to face her bewildered expression. She had no way of knowing she’d just confirmed his greatest fear. His father had missed him.
When Griffin had left home, he’d been shielded by the certainty of purpose only the ignorance and nearsightedness of youth could provide. It had taken a number of years for him to attain the level of maturity necessary to truly appreciate what he had done. He’d thought of contacting his father many times over the years but, in the end, had been unable to muster the courage. When he’d seen the wedding announcement in The Globe, a city newspaper he’d maintained a subscription to out of some strange concession to homesickness, any remnant regret had turned to a cool indifference. Leonard had found a future. Griffin had decided to do the same.
Once again, he reached for his glass, hoping the water would neutralize the bile rising in his throat. He glanced at Ephie over the rim and saw her worried expression.
He lowered the pilsner to reassure her. “I’m all right.” But the words came out garbled, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m all right.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. So, enlighten me. What’s so cynical about my assessment of Lillian and Leonard’s marriage?”
“For starters, you don’t know anything about their relationship.”
“Fair enough. Tell me then. What exactly did Lillian get out of it?”
“Well, I don’t know, of course. But I can tell you they adored and respected each other. And I’m not being naïve. I know what people said about the two of them, what people still say about them—about her. But I’ll tell you this, your father and Lillian shared a rare intimacy.”
Rare intimacy, the words hit him squarely in his solar plexus, making dark spots float before his eyes. The unpleasant image of his father, with his balding head and liver-spotted hands, being intimate with Lillian sprang, unbidden, into his mind. He tightened his grip on his glass, staring at his white knuckles until his eyes went dry. Nevertheless, the disturbing vision persisted.
“There couldn’t have been much of that these last couple of years,” he managed. Ephie’s heavy sigh let him know he’d disappointed her, again. “I’m sorry. I’m a guy, all right. I can’t help wondering about the two of them together.”
“Well, try harder. And I’m not talking about that kind of intimacy. I’m talking about, I don’t know, a really deep emotional bond. Physically? I don’t know or care. But emotionally, they were extremely close. That’s all I’m saying.”
“But, and I swear I’m not trying to be a pig, she’s so…” Words failed him. He shrugged.
Ephie gave him a sidelong glance. “Oh, I know.”
“Even for a woman, huh?”
“She’s sex on two legs,” she told him with a surprisingly wolfish grin. “No one is immune to it.”
“I can’t wrap my mind around a woman like her being celibate for the sake of her ailing husband.”
“Okay, now we’re getting into dangerous territory.”
“What?” He shrugged innocently. “You’re uncomfortable discussing your boss’ sex life with me?”
Ephie laughed and reached for her champagne spiked orange juice.
“It’s not like it’s a secret,” she said out one side of her mouth as if conferring with her conscience. “Have you heard her call anyone ‘darling?’” she asked cryptically before putting the glass to her lips.
“Only every other man that came into the house this morning,” Griffin answered absently, almost choking on the gulp of water he’d taken when the question and answer snapped together in his mind. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Ephie pressed her lips together and shrugged.
“Jesus,” he muttered.
Lillian had slept with nearly half the guests milling about in the other room. But instead of feeling outrage on behalf of his late father, he had a wholly personal reaction. Jealousy tightened in his chest, stealing the air from his lungs.
“Don’t worry. You’ll eventually come to appreciate Lillian Gustave Milton Bennett as the force of nature she is.”
“Wait. What did you just say? Lillian who?”
“Shit!” She ran her palms up her thighs over the materia
l of her black crepe trousers. “Forget it, it doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter?” He rubbed his hands over his face. He’d had no idea the rollercoaster ride he’d be going on when he’d invited Ephie to sit for a chat. “I’m assuming all of those surnames are from previous marriages. So she’s been married…what…three times?”
“Yes.”
“My father being her third husband?”
“Yes.”
“The other two, divorces?”
“No.”
“They both died?”
“Yes.”
“While she was married to them?”
“Yes.”
“Oh please, don’t start holding out on me now. You’ve been so incredibly informative.” His words dripped with sarcasm. “I’m learning so much about your beloved Lillian.”
“I know what it sounds like,” she barked at him.
“I’m sure you do. Yet you still idolize her? Tell me this, were the other two husbands like my father.”
“Older? Ill? Wealthy?” she bit out each word. “Yes.”
She looked away, the tension from their terse exchange evident in her shoulders. Griffin took a deep breath in through his nose and tried to release it quietly between his lips. Suddenly, Ephie was in motion, perching on the edge of the sofa cushion and putting her drink down on the coffee table with enough force to command his attention.
“You don’t know her, Griffin Bennett. I get it. It’s easy to dismiss her. People do it all the time because, on paper, she’s a cliché…sex personified…a common gold-digger. She makes no apologies for who she is or the life she’s lived, so I’m certainly not going to do it. But you should know, like most people, she’s complicated. I can’t tell you how much I’ve learned from her about compassion, as well as the virtues of ambition. So, for whatever it’s worth, I’m certain you can trust her to help you. I hope to hell she can trust you.”
Chapter 8
Lillian risked a slanted glance at her companion. He had been unusually quiet after their spirited conversation about how they should get to the gallery, Griffin adamant about driving. She hadn’t been confident she’d be able to direct him. These last few years, she’d become accustomed to being driven. She often worked while in the back of the car, especially if Lenny was not with her, and rarely paid attention to such mundane matters as roads and landmarks.
But Griffin had insisted, saying he only needed an address and his phone would do the rest. As it turned out, the BMW coupe, which had not been out of the garage in the last four years for anything more than monthly maintenance drives, was equipped with a global positioning contraption he programmed adeptly within seconds of being in the car. It had guided them to the highway in an efficient, if slightly unnerving, monotone and then fallen silent along with the passengers in the car.
“Five miles to East Main Street.”
She jumped at the unexpected intrusion.
“Relax.”
He moved his hand from the gear shaft to lightly touch her knee, making her jump again. He snatched his hand back.
“Jesus, Lillian, when was the last time you were alone in a car with a man?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she snapped far too harshly.
He considered her, briefly, before returning his attention to the road. “Of course, you’re right.”
“Yes.” She pulled the light shawl she wore tighter around her shoulders.
She could tell by the pulse of tension in his jaw she’d annoyed him. That made two of them. She had not been able to stop thinking about him; his cobalt-gray eyes, his beautiful body. Confined in the tiny space, her usually unflappable serenity challenged, she decided the time to put an end to the situation had arrived.
“It’s you,” she admitted decisively. “You are making me nervous.”
“What?” His confused expression was almost comical.
“I said you are making me nervous. Don’t pretend you are surprised.”
“I’m not pretending,” he protested. “And I can’t imagine why a woman like you would be nervous with any man, least of all me.”
“A woman like me,” she repeated tightly, shifting in the black leather bucket seat. She clasped her hands together and pressed them into one knee to keep herself from doing what she suddenly, desperately wanted to do—slap the smug look off his handsome face. “It makes me wonder what kind of woman you think I am, exactly.”
He turned from the road to gape at her. She tried to mask her rising irritation with a mild smile. Griffin faced front, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Okay, Lillian. You want me to say it, I’ll say it. I think you’re the kind of woman who’s supremely comfortable around men. I’d even go so far as to say I think most everything about you is for the express purpose of attracting and ensnaring men. The hypnotically sexy body, mysterious European aura, intuitive sensitivity; it’s all for the undoubtedly delighted consumption of the males in perpetual orbit around you. That’s what kind of woman I think you are, and I find it near impossible to believe that kind of woman would jump like a teenaged virgin because I put my hand on her knee.”
“Two miles to East Main Street.”
She pushed her lips together into a thin, hard line against the impulsive and bitter words of defense which sprang to mind. Rotating her body back to forward, she kept her eyes on him as his glance darted between her and the road. When he faced her fully for a moment she finally, deliberately, turned away from him.
“I’ve pissed you off,” he said flatly.
“Your ugly assumptions have made me angry. Yes.”
“Really?” He looked over his left shoulder briefly as he changed lanes, smoothly shifting as he passed the slower traffic in front of them. “Please educate me. What did I say that was untrue?”
“At its core? Every bit of it. Yes, I understand what attracts men, but I assure you I have never ‘ensnared’ anyone. You make it sound as if I manipulate men. I would never be interested in a man ridiculous enough to be fooled by the superficial qualities you attribute to me. And you can be sure none of my husbands were ridiculous men. Not one of them.” She looked out the window at her side. “Especially not your father.”
His attitude had disappointed her, despite it being all too familiar. She was well aware of how most people perceived her. It didn’t matter. Approval had never been her goal. More upsetting was his assessment had hurt. The opinion of a near stranger should not have the power to wound. Focusing on the passing scenery, she hoped the horrid conversation was over.
“I’m sorry, Lillian.” His sincerity drew her consideration. “Truly, sorry.”
He had such full lips, almost too full for a man. She realized with a start she wanted to kiss him. Forcibly lifting her gaze, she hoped he had not sensed her gawking. Thankfully, the narrowing streets had required his full concentration.
He glanced at her. “No more assumptions. I promise.”
“Thank you,” she accepted as gracefully as she could. “As far as I am concerned, the matter is closed.”
She thought she saw the hint of a smirk, but when he said nothing, Lillian decided to try a new, less controversial topic.
“How are you feeling?”
“Feeling?”
His confusion brought a smile—men and their reluctance to acknowledge any weakness.
“You are fully recovered? From your bout with the flu?”
“Oh.” He took a hand from the wheel to rub at the back of his neck. “Pretty much.” Lillian found it difficult not to stare at the tapered beauty of his tanned fingers when he returned them to the steering wheel. “A little tired, but I think that has more to do with…well…stress, frankly. My appetite isn’t back to normal, either. But then again, I’m not doing my regular workout.”
Taken aback by his frank reply, Lillian was momentarily speechless. She nodded as she recalled her intimate experience with his near to perfect physique.
“You must work out a
good deal to stay in such fine shape.” The musing tumbled out of her mouth, uncensored.
A wicked grin curled his lips, but he kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Staying fit is a matter of safety, for me.”
“Because of the diving?”
“Yes.”
“So you swim?”
“Swim, weight lift, run when I can. I’m disappointed I haven’t been able to get out while I’ve been here. It would have been good to see some of my old stomping grounds. But I don’t feel like I have my air back, yet.”
“You still have time.”
He turned toward her, the cerulean of his eyes softening the gray and seducing her with an unspoken promise.
“In point five miles, slight left onto East Main Street.”
Lillian welcomed the intrusion. “We are almost there,” she told him, breaking the spell.
“That’s what the GPS is showing.” He lightly tapped the screen in the center of the dashboard before facing front. “It really is beautiful here. I’d almost forgotten. Sand and sea and cedar siding,” he said in a singsong voice as if reciting a long-ago nursery rhyme, “as my mother used to say.”
“Yes, it is picturesque.”
“Your destination is on the right.”
“Here it is.” She pointed up at the sign through the windshield of the coupe as Griffin maneuvered the car into a spot in front of the rambling, ocean-side building.
“H.B.A.C.?”
“Helena Bennett Artist Collective.”
Griffin turned to her. “She would have loved that.”
“Your father thought so as well.”
She hooked her fingers around the door latch but was stalled by the feel of Griffin’s hand around her upper arm.
“Why here?”
She faced him, confusion tugging between her brows. “I don’t understand.”
“Why did you bring me here, first, instead of the business offices?”
“Because this meant a great deal to your father, and I thought it might mean as much to you.”
Gilding Lillian Page 6