The Waterfall

by Carla Neggers

  “There might be a few bushes up here.” Lucy noticed blueberry and flour stains on her T-shirt and wished she’d changed. “You could probably get enough at least for a batch of pancakes.”

  Barbara laughed. “I’m afraid I’m not that domestic.”

  “I don’t know, just about anyone can manage Bisquick and a handful of blueberries. Well, I hope you enjoy the muffins. Are you here long?”

  “Just another day or two, I imagine. Thank God for cell phones. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to spare so much time away from the office.”

  “Yes, I know what you mean.”

  But Lucy regretted her words, irritated at herself for being defensive. She enjoyed making muffins and pancakes, picking berries, puttering in her garden, hanging out with her children; she had a business, she worked, she knew her way around Washington. She had nothing to prove. So what if Barbara had to make sure Lucy knew how important and indispensable she was? Why get defensive?

  “I hope I didn’t get Madison into trouble,” Barbara said.

  “You didn’t.” Madison, Lucy thought, got herself into trouble. “She’s looking forward to her visit to Washington this fall. We all are, actually.”

  “Fall’s my favorite time of year in Washington. It’s so vibrant, so alive. I love the country, but—” She looked around at the still, quiet woods, and smiled. “I guess all this peacefulness would get on my nerves after a while.”

  “My first few months here, I was so restless, I didn’t know if I’d stay. Then, I don’t know, I started to enjoy the pace of life. Vermont isn’t as isolated as it sometimes seems. There’s so much to do.”

  “With so many tourists and second-home owners from the city, I imagine so. Your adventure-travel business is going well?”

  Lucy nodded. This woman was driving her nuts. Maybe Sebastian’s suspicions had colored her perceptions, made her hypersensitive to what she might ordinarily have treated as a normal conversation. “It’s going very well, thanks. I have a great staff, and we have so many ideas. Did Madison tell you we’re putting together a Costa Rica trip?”

  “No, actually, we didn’t really get a chance to talk about you.”

  It was as if Lucy had just been stuck with a thousand poison needles. This woman did not like her. “My parents retired there, you know.”

  “Jack told me. An odd thing to do, don’t you think?”

  So, now not only was she selfish and inferior, but her family was odd, too. She shrugged and made herself smile. “A natural thing for them, considering their background. I’m trying to get Jack to go with us on the dry run. Wouldn’t that be fun? Maybe Sidney Greenburg can go, too. She and my parents are friends—”

  “Yes, I know.” Barbara set the muffins on an Adirondack chair and took in a long breath, staring out at the woods. For a moment, she seemed to forget Lucy was there, but she caught herself. “I’ll check Jack’s schedule. I don’t know if he can spare any time for Costa Rica.”

  For frivolities, her tone said. Lucy pretended not to notice. “I hope he can, although I understand. Life as a senator must be awfully hectic and demanding.”

  “Well, one must prioritize. Jack would spend all his time with you and his grandchildren if he could. You know that. Unfortunately, I have to rein him in, help him stay on track. There’s very little thanks in telling someone no all the time, but he understands.”

  “You don’t think he should spend August up here?”

  “Not the entire month, frankly, no. Personally, I can understand. You’re his only family. Professionally—he’s a Rhode Island senator, not a Vermont senator.” Barbara smiled sweetly. “If you’d moved to Providence or Newport, it would be a different story.”

  If she’d been a good daughter-in-law, in other words. Lucy gave a lighthearted laugh. “No one offered me a house on the cheap in Providence or Newport. Well, I should be going. We’re pulling together the last details for a father-son backpacking trip.”

  “It must be nice to have such a flexible schedule,” Barbara said. “I’m so used to my dawn-to-dusk hours!”

  “Nice seeing you, Barbara.”

  “You, too.” When Lucy was halfway down the steps, Barbara added, “Oh, and I’d keep my eyes wide open around Sebastian Redwing.”

  Lucy turned. “Sebastian? Why?”

  “I think he has another agenda aside from seeing his childhood home again.”

  Yeah, Lucy thought. The blackmail of a United States senator. “I’m not worried. I’ve known Sebastian for the better part of twenty years.”

  Barbara walked to the top of the steps. She was a handsome woman, Lucy thought, but annoying. “It’s obvious, Lucy. You’re his hidden agenda.”

  “What?”

  “He’s been in love with you for years. Everyone knows but you.”

  “Washington.” Lucy laughed off her uneasiness. “I sure don’t miss the gossip. See you, Barbara. Enjoy the muffins.”

  When she got back to her car, Lucy got in behind the wheel. She was furious with herself, furious with Barbara, and sickened by the idea of what this woman had done to her. “I wish I had proof. I’d drag the bitch by the hair down to the police,” she said aloud.

  “Well, well, well.” Sebastian grinned as he opened the passenger door and slid in. “I like your spirit, Lucy Blacker.”

  “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

  He slumped low in the seat. “Eavesdropping is an unappreciated art.”

  “You listened in on my conversation with Barbara?”

  “Yep. Female version of a pissing contest.”

  “I don’t know what got into me.” Lucy started the engine, backed out in a fury. “I don’t care if she works twenty-four hours a day and thinks I’m a frump. Really, I don’t.”

  “She sucked you into measuring yourself by her standards instead of your own.”

  Lucy shifted into drive, hit the gas pedal and tore off down the dirt road. It needed grading, and her car bounced over the washboard ruts. “It’s tempting to say she has to make more of her position with Jack and work ‘dawn to dusk’ because she has no life.” She gulped for air, relaxed her grip on the wheel. “But then I’d be as bad as she is, judging her for her choices. Well, you’re right. It was a pissing contest.”

  “You want to slow down? If we get wrapped around a tree, Plato will end up raising your kids.” Sebastian leaned back in his seat, not looking as if her driving bothered him at all. “You don’t want that. He used to jump out of a helicopter in the middle of a nor’ easter.”

  She slowed, but not because she was worried about hitting a tree or Plato Rabedeneira raising her children. She glanced over at Sebastian. He had on a black polo shirt and jeans that fit closely over his thighs, and even the fading scrapes and scratches on his arms struck her as sexy, evidence of his hard life, his hard thinking. His choices. She sighed. “What are we going to do about Barbara?”

  “We?”

  “She’s not going to stop. Whatever she has against me, I’m pretty sure I just made it worse.”

  “You couldn’t have said or done anything to make it better. She’s determined to hate you. She likes it. Hating you makes her feel better about herself.”

  “Do you really think she’s in cahoots with Mowery?”

  “I’d say there’s a high probability.”

  “Meaning,” Lucy added, “whatever he has on Jack could be something that would also hurt me.”

  Sebastian regarded her with a steady, reassuring calm. “Would Jack jeopardize his reputation and his bank account to protect you?”

  “Yes. Yes, I think he would.”

  “Because of Madison and J.T.?”

  “No, not just because of them—but they’re a factor, absolutely. We’re all the family he has. After Colin died—” She stepped on the brake, stopping the car. “Oh, my God. Sebastian, what if it’s something to do with Colin?”

  “If you know something,” Sebastian said quietly, his tone professional, deadly, “if you even suspect s
omething, now’s the time.”

  “I don’t. There’s nothing. Jack and Colin both—with both of them, what you see is what you get. Colin had no secrets, not from me. He died suddenly, without any warning at all. We had no idea he had a heart condition. He didn’t have time to hide anything. I went through all his stuff.”

  “Did he keep a journal?”

  She nodded.

  “Did you read it?”

  “No. I burned it without reading it. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Probably not.”

  She shot him a look and realized he wasn’t kidding. “You’d read a dead person’s journal?”

  “I might. I wouldn’t rule it out and just burn it. What if it contained the secret to cold fusion?”

  She found herself biting back a laugh. “You’re full of shit, Redwing.”

  He grinned at her. “You needed to lighten up. What about Jack? What could he have to hide?”

  “He might have some unpaid hospital bills. That’s about as nefarious as he’d get.” She took her foot off the brake and stepped on the gas pedal. “Maybe Mowery and Barbara made up something.”

  “That’s possible,” Sebastian said.

  She sighed at him. “How can you be so calm?”

  “Who says I’m calm?”

  When they reached the house, Lucy put Madison and J.T. both to work with her in the barn. Rob wore a look that told her he wanted to interrogate her, but he wouldn’t do it in front of her kids. So they actually managed to get some adventure travel work done.

  And at noon, on schedule, Plato Rabedeneira arrived.

  “Holy shit,” Rob breathed, peering out the barn window at Plato and his big, shiny black car. “You know, Lucy, sometimes I start thinking you’re just this ordinary adventure travel person, this widow with two kids, and then the cavalry rolls in.”

  “This is nothing. You should see what would happen if I called Washington.”

  “Grandpa Jack.”

  She nodded.

  Plato got out. Apparently he’d parked his plane next to Sebastian’s at the local airstrip and had the car waiting. He wore a black suit and dark glasses, and his limp was more pronounced, probably from the long hours in the plane.

  “Think he’s armed?” Rob asked.

  “To the teeth.”

  Lucy went out to the driveway and practically felt Rob’s shudder when Plato kissed her on the cheek. “Hey, kid.”

  “Hi, Plato. Thanks for coming out here. Just one thing before I let you into my house.” She crossed her arms and gave him the kind of look she’d given J.T. and Georgie when she caught them playing war with her tomatoes. “I can’t believe you sicced Sebastian on me knowing—” She faltered, realizing she was already in over her head, and finished lamely, “Knowing what you knew.”

  Plato grinned. “You mean that he’s a reprobate or that he’s in love with you?”

  “Both.”

  “I was thinking I’d sicced you on him.”

  “Ha.”

  His dark glasses made him even harder to read. “He’s still the best.”

  “I hope so. I need the best.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Right here,” Sebastian said, walking down from the front porch. “What’s with the car and the dark glasses? You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”

  “You don’t have a gun,” Plato said, “and you wouldn’t use one if you did.”

  “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Good. Your sabbatical’s over. You can get back to work.”

  “Sabbatical. Jesus, Plato.”

  But the joking ended, and Plato said, “I have news.”

  He glanced at Lucy, who shook her head, adamant. “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you two have to say, you can say it in front of me.”

  “Sebastian?”

  Lucy gritted her teeth but didn’t jump in and argue her point further. Technically, Sebastian was Plato’s boss, and his military training would compel him to follow the chain of command—but they were friends, and who the hell had given Sebastian the last word? She was agitated, frustrated, and it was entirely possible what they were discussing was none of her business.

  “Go ahead,” Sebastian said.

  “It’s not good news,” Plato said. “Happy Ford was shot last night in Washington. She’s critical, but she should pull through.”

  Sebastian had no visible reaction. “She’s getting everything she needs?”

  “Everything.”

  He looked out across the road at the lush, wooded hills. “Mowery?”

  “We haven’t been able to talk to her.”

  “Then we don’t know where he is,” Sebastian said.

  “No. She thought she’d picked up his trail yesterday afternoon. That’s the last we heard.”

  “If she dies, it’s my fault.”

  Plato shook his head. “If she dies, it’s the fault of whoever pulled the trigger.”

  “I should have killed Mowery a year ago.”

  “Only a year ago? Why not fifteen years ago? Why not the day you met him?”

  Madison and J.T. bounded out from the barn. Lucy felt her heart flip-flop at their energy, their youth, their obliviousness. Her babies. Dear God, she had to protect them!

  Sebastian’s eyes had narrowed into slits. “You’re on kid watch.”

  Plato grimaced. “I was afraid of that.”

  “Take them out of here. Keep them safe.”

  Sebastian walked back up the porch steps and disappeared into the house. The door banged shut behind him, and Lucy jumped. She tried to smile. “I’m a little on edge.”

  “Good,” Plato said. “It’ll keep you alert.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Help your kids pack up. Two changes of clothes, two pairs of shoes, no animals.”

  “Sleeping bags? I have a ton of freeze-dried provisions—”

  His unsmiling mouth twitched. “I’m not taking them into the outback, Lucy. We’ll find a motel somewhere.”

  “You’ll call me?”

  “No. If I call you, it means there’s trouble.”

  Her knees went out from under her, but she held steady. “Plato, I don’t know if I can…”

  “You can come with us.”

  She shook her head. “No. I have to figure this out. I trust you.”

  He tucked a finger under her chin. “Trust Sebastian.”

  “Mom,” Madison said, and Lucy could feel her terror. “What’s going on?”

  “Cool car,” J.T. said.

  Lucy didn’t know how to explain. She composed herself, and plunged in. “I want you two to go with Plato. It could be for a few hours or a couple of days, until I get things sorted out around here. He’ll take care of you.”

  The color drained out of Madison’s face. “Mom. What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll be here with Sebastian, and with any luck, I’ll just get a lot of work done.”

  J.T. was still enthralled with the car. “Can I ride up front?”

  Plato grimaced. “Sure, kid.”

  Madison tried to smile. She was older, and she knew more, guessed more. But she was determined to be brave. Lucy could see her struggling not to panic. “Um—can I take my quilt?”

  Lucy knew she meant the hexagons she’d found in the attic.

  Plato didn’t. He sighed. “Quilt? Yeah, sure. Take your quilt.”

  Fourteen

  Plato leaned in the doorway of J.T.’s room. “Kid’s packing for the new millenium,” he said to Lucy. “Your daughter’s worse. Maybe you better go on downstairs and pour yourself a glass of lemonade, Lucy. I’ll supervise.”

  She nodded. “They’re nervous.”

  “They’re packing too much. I didn’t bring the moving van. Go on. We’ll get it pared down in no time.” He unfolded himself from the doorway and joined J.T. by his bed. “J.T., where’d you get all this crap?”

  “It’s not crap, it’s my stuff.”

 
“Well, it’s a shitload of stuff.” He picked up a Micro Machine. “Hey, I like this little helicopter here. I used to jump out of one of these babies.”

  “Really?”

  Lucy could see her son was smitten. A tough, handsome ex-parachute rescue jumper who swore and knew helicopters—Plato would end up paring him down to a change of undershorts. He’d probably find some way of working his charms on Madison, too.

  Lucy slipped downstairs to the kitchen. She didn’t know where Sebastian was. Rob had gone off to Manchester on a supply run.

  There was no lemonade made. She took out a frozen can of concentrate and set it in the sink, turning the hot water on to a trickle.

  The phone rang, making her jump.

  “Lucy? Thank God. It’s Sidney Greenburg.” She paused for air. “Jack’s in trouble.”

  Blackmail trouble, Lucy thought. She wondered what her father-in-law had deigned to tell Sidney. “What kind of trouble?”

  “He told me about the blackmail. How much do you know? Damned little, right? He’s such an ass. He thinks he’s being noble. Lucy…” Sidney groaned. “I hate this. I hate every single minute of it.”

  “I know.” Lucy calmed herself by watching the ice melt on her can of frozen concentrate. “Tell me, Sidney. I can take it.”

  “Of course you can. I told Jack you could. Some jackass named Darren Mowery is blackmailing him over an affair Colin may or may not have had shortly before he died. There are supposedly pictures. If Jack knows the name of the woman, he won’t tell me. I assume it’s someone who’d interest the media, but who the hell knows.”

  Lucy stuck her finger in the hot trickle, ran it over the top of the still-icy can. An affair. Colin. “This is ridiculous. Colin didn’t have an affair. Even if he did, he’s dead, and it was a private matter.”

  “I know! That’s what I told Jack! He said once something like this gets out in Washington, it can take on a life of its own. I said bullshit and told him to call you at once. He was so upset. He really thought he was protecting you and the kids by paying this bastard.”

  “I don’t need him or anyone else to protect me from the truth. He can protect me from lions, tigers and bears if it comes to it, but never the truth.”