“I’ve been here a full week, and she’s no better. It’s starting to frighten her, but she refuses to see Tom Martin. So while we’re in New York, I’m taking her to a doctor.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet. Tom’s my next dinner delivery.” I grinned. “I’m hoping he’ll be pleased enough with the gesture to help us get an appointment with someone who knows about things like this.”
“Things like this?” she asked with a grain of distrust. “You aren’t still on the mercury thing, are you?”
“First, I’m on the Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s thing.”
Chewing on a corner of her mouth, she looked off toward the woods and nodded.
“I’m not telling her beforehand about the doctor,” I went on. “She’ll fight me on it, I know she will. When I do, I want to be able to tell her you agree with me on this.”
Sabina took a breath and looked me in the eye. “I’m worried about her, too.”
“Then we’re in agreement about the doctor?”
“I still think it’s psychological.”
“If a doctor rules out the others, she may be willing to see your friend the therapist.”
Sabina nodded and looked away again. This time, though, she grew alert. I followed her gaze. Aidan Meade was striding down the drive. He came right up to us, bold as brass, put his hands on his hips, looked from Sabina to me and back, and smiled. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
Don’t let him interrupt? I mused. Planting himself right here?
I was thinking of a pithy response, when Sabina said, “You’re not interrupting. Annie can’t stay. She was just dropping off dinner for my family. She’s a pretty good cook.”
He gave me a smug look. “We’re Betty Crocker now, are we?”
I might have said any number of things then, but none of them would have done Sabina any good, and she was my concern. We actually had a meeting of minds here. I cared more about cultivating that than cutting Aidan down to size.
Besides, I had a date with James—well, not a date in the traditional sense, but we were forging a bond. Runners were good at that. But I doubted Aidan knew. So we also had a secret, James and I. That gave me a sense of strength.
I touched Sabina’s arm. “It’s fully cooked, so reheating at three-fifty for ten minutes should do it.” Without another glance at Aidan, I went to my car and drove off.
Chapter 15
AIDAN MEADE didn’t like Annie Barnes. He didn’t trust Annie Barnes. She was up to no good. He had known it from the start. In Middle River for a whole month? That spelled trouble. If he hadn’t sensed it from her holier-than-thou attitude when he had seen her in town that first day, he would have known it from the odd things she did. And it wasn’t just him. Marshall was concerned, which meant Sandy was concerned, and when Sandy was concerned, he took it out on Aidan. And now Nicole, putting him on the hot seat no more than an hour before. He hadn’t been prepared for that one, not when everything was going so well.
“Got a minute?” she had intercommed from her desk as she often did when she had material to run through with him, but he knew something was up the minute she entered his office. For one thing, though she usually teased him about it, she didn’t even seem to notice that he had his golf club in hand and was chipping balls into a Chip-Mate on the far side of the room. Nor, ominously, did she have a stack of papers in her hand.
Closing the door, she came right up to him and said in an intimate voice, “We may have a problem. I got a call from Hal Healy this morning. He’s seen Kaitlin talking with Annie Barnes. He knew I’d want to know. We’ve both been concerned about Kaitlin, because she’s had a real attitude lately. He’s worried that Annie is not a good role model for the girls in town.” Her eyes held his. “Me, I’m worried about something else.”
“What’s that?” Aidan asked. Kaitlin’s attitude wasn’t his problem.
“I’m worried Kaitlin knows.”
“About us?” he asked in surprise. “How could she know? We don’t do anything outside this office.”
“What about Concord? Or Worcester? Or New York?”
“We were working.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Uh-huh, working up a sweat without a stitch of clothes on.”
“Come on, Nicki, how could she possibly know about those times?” he asked as he set the club aside.
“Who knows—suspicion, rumor, guesswork, spies?—but if she’s angry at me, giving Annie Barnes the scoop would be one way to hit back. She hates that I hate her father. No matter that she caught him cheating on me, somehow I’m at fault. The problem is, if word of what we do gets out, Anton will use it. He’s been waiting for something like this—just waiting for me to slip up so that he has an excuse to get out of the marriage without being called a cad by everyone in town.”
Aidan gripped her arms and gave them an affectionate shake. “You haven’t slipped up. You don’t tell friends, do you?”
“God, no. I don’t tell anyone.”
Of course, she didn’t. She knew when she had a good thing going. She was the best-paid assistant in the company, and she was worth every cent. “And you don’t know for sure that Kaitlin knows,” he reminded her.
“No, and I can’t exactly ask. But why else would she be talking to Annie Barnes? What would my daughter have to say to that woman? Kaitlin’s been distant lately. I could feel it rolling off her when she was sitting between Anton and me last Sunday in church. According to Hal, that was right after she talked with Annie.”
“Get her to a therapist.”
“And have her tell what she knows to someone else? Not wise, Aidan. You know how things are in this town. Confidentiality is a pipe dream.”
Aidan was starting to tire of the issue. He hadn’t made the mess of the DuPuises’ marriage. “Talk to Kaitlin. Get on her good side. Buy her something. What about a little car?”
“Anton refuses.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Shut down Annie Barnes.”
Aidan laughed. “Talk about pipe dreams.”
Nicole pulled away from him. “This isn’t funny.” He reached out and pulled her back, but her eyes were flashing. “Aidan, this isn’t funny. If Anton divorces me, I’m sunk. Sunk means without money, and that’s the whole point of my marriage. I like where I am. I like what I do. I like what we do. If Anton finds out, this is done. You think your wife will put up with your playing around? You blew two other marriages because you couldn’t keep your pants zipped. Didn’t she make you sign a prenup giving her more money if you cheat? Or was that a story you told me, so I’d know to keep my mouth shut? Well, I have. So maybe the leak is on your end.”
“You really are beautiful when you’re angry.”
“Ai-dan! Lis-ten to me!”
But he was feeling aroused. “There’s no leak on my end, not yet, but soon. You are so sexy.” He kissed her.
“Aidan,” she protested against his mouth, but she didn’t resist the kiss. So he deepened it. At the same time, he backed her against the door, locked it, and slipped both hands into her blouse.
She always wore a blouse, usually silk, and a bra, usually lacy, and there were times when he played with the feel of those fabrics against her, but he was impatient today. Freeing her breasts in a symmetrical sweep of his hands, he put a thumb to one nipple and his mouth to the other.
“I don’t know what to do, Aidan,” she said, but it was little more than a breathy murmur. She had her hands in his hair, holding his head close.
“Do this, baby,” he whispered against her hard flesh. Reaching under her skirt, he lowered her panties, then his fly. In seconds, he was inside her, and she was ready for him that fast. She always was, which was one of the reasons their relationship worked. He wasn’t interested in foreplay when the need hit him hard. The way she moved and the sounds she made told him she felt the same.
It was over quickly and here, too, this was good. She was satisfied, he was satisfied. Usu
ally, that was that.
This day, though, she didn’t let it go. After righting her clothes, she straightened and said, “The business about your prenup? The only reason I mention it is to remind you that you have a stake in this, too. It’s in your best interest to make sure that Annie Barnes doesn’t go public with even the slightest hint of what we do. If I go down, I’m not going down alone.”
Aidan had been checking to make sure his pants looked all right. Slowly he raised his eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I refuse to be poor. If my husband divorces me because of what we do here, I’m assuming you’ll help me out.”
That actually sounded like a threat. “What are you talking about, Nicole? Nothing is going to happen.”
“Good,” she said, then smiled. “I just needed to say that.” And she left.
Aidan stared at the door without moving. The longer he stared, the more annoyed he grew. He didn’t like being threatened, especially not by a woman. He was irascible when his phone rang, and grew worse when the voice at the other end informed him that Annie Barnes was cruising around Northwood’s grounds. When he set off to confront her sister, he was positively gunning for bear—all the more so when he found Annie right there, and then, as calmly as you please, she talked about delivering dinner, then got in her car and took off.
Annie was a loose cannon. He had no idea what she was planning to do. Sabina was another story. She was on his payroll. He couldn’t control what she did on her own time, but he’d be damned if she would aid and abet the enemy on Northwood’s dime.
“What did she want?” he asked.
“She brought dinner,” Sabina replied, so much like her sister—he had never seen it before—right down to the calmness, that it ticked him off more.
“That was an excuse,” he said. “She drove all the way up to the plant. Why do you think she did that?”
“I didn’t know she had. Maybe she just wanted to see what’s changed since she was here last.”
“Maybe she’s scoping out the place.”
“Scoping it out? For what?” Sabina asked, sounding amused.
“Well, you’d have to tell me that,” he shot back. “Don’t tell me she’s just curious about changes. This company means nothing to her. She’s looking to cause trouble, Sabina—and I’m not the only one who thinks it. Even Hal Healy is worried.”
“Hal? What does Hal have to do with Northwood?”
“Nothing. But he’s seen her talking with some of the young girls in town. He’s worried she’s a bad influence.”
“She’s a best-selling author,” Sabina reasoned. “She’s a successful woman. That makes her a good influence.”
“Not if she fires these girls up. Think of Annie Barnes, and you think of Peyton Place. Think of Peyton Place, and you think of sex. Let’s face it. Your sister lives life in the fast lane. You have an impressionable daughter. Don’t you worry about things like this?”
Sabina had the gall to laugh. “Of course, I do, but not because of Annie. I worry about the boys in this town. Look at you. We were in school together, Aidan. I remember the things you did.”
Aidan had done nothing more than any other healthy, red-blooded male would do. Yeah, yeah. She would say he did do more because he was a Meade and could get away with it, and she would dredge up the case of Annie and Cooper’s Point. But that was NA—not applicable—to the discussion at hand. “I didn’t touch your sister.”
“I know. You were too busy touching Kiki Corey. And there were plenty of others before and after. Come on, Aidan. Don’t play the prude.”
First Nicki, now Sabina. He didn’t like it when women bested him with words. “Am I your boss?” he asked.
“What does that have to do with this?”
“I deserve respect. I’m telling you that your sister is looking for trouble. I don’t want you laughing in my face.”
She didn’t reply. Rather, her face grew blank. And that was worse. That was insolent.
“Control your sister, Sabina, or there will be repercussions.”
Still she didn’t reply, just stared at him with that blank look.
“If I feel,” he said, “that your relationship with your sister raises a security problem for this company, I’ll replace you.”
“Replace me?”
“Fire you. Control her, Sabina. I want her the hell out of town.”
Sabina watched him walk off. She had known Annie would be a problem. Hadn’t she begged her to keep her nose out of Middle River business—hadn’t she pleaded with her that first morning in Phoebe’s house? She had told her what was at stake, and now it wasn’t just theory. Thanks to her sister, Sabina might well lose her job. Annie was the most stubborn, the most bullheaded, ornery, impossible person she knew!
Simmering quietly, Sabina glanced back at the office. She couldn’t work now. She was too annoyed.
And why should she work? It was five. Wasn’t that her own assistant packing it in?
“See you tomorrow,” he called over the roofs of their cars. She raised a hand in acknowledgment.
He left at five every day. She stayed later. Was it pride in her work? A sense of professional responsibility? The desire to please her bosses?
But now Aidan had threatened her job. That galled her. And he wanted her to make Annie leave town. That galled her even more. Annie had as much right to be here as Aidan did. She was nosy, but nosiness wasn’t a crime. Sabina would absolutely not tell her to leave.
She might get a little closer to her. Talk with her more. Get a feel for how she spent her days. That would be productive.
Her eyes fell to the dinner that lay on the seat of her car. Aidan was right; Annie had come about more than dinner. She had come about Phoebe, which was actually a good thing. It was actually a kind thing. Phoebe needed help. It was time to admit that. If Annie was willing to get the ball rolling, how could Sabina complain?
Chapter 16
I WAS EXITING past those beautiful stone walls, leaving Northwood behind and heading for the Clinic, when I had a thought. It was after five. If Tom Martin had left for the day, my showing up there would create gossip with nothing at all to show for it on my end.
So I pulled over to the side of the road, took my cell phone from my purse, and called just to check. Sure enough, the answering service came on. “No,” I replied casually, “no message, I’ll just catch him tomorrow,” and clicked off. I called Directory Assistance, asked for Tom’s home number, and was automatically connected.
I recognized his voice immediately. It had an intrinsic warmth. “Tom? It’s Annie Barnes. I cooked you dinner. Can I drop it off?”
His words smiled. “Cooked me dinner? That’s so nice. When can you get here? We’re starved—you know I have a sister, don’t you?”
“I do. There’s enough for four.”
“Then maybe you’ll eat with us?”
“I’ll sit for a bit, but I promised to be home so that Phoebe isn’t alone. Want to tell me where you live?”
He did that with total trust. There was definitely a rapport here.
Smiling, I was returning the cell phone to my purse when the police cruiser came up alongside. There were no lights now, no audience, just Marshall and me. My smile faded. It wasn’t that I felt physically threatened being alone with him on a quiet road. Uneasy was more apt. I had passed a few cars, though saw none now. After our last run-in, I was wondering if the man would be better or worse without witnesses.
He didn’t get out of his car, just called across the passenger’s seat and out the open window, “Got a problem?”
That should be your line, Grace said in a huff.
I agreed, but knew better than to say it aloud. I simply smiled. “No problem, thanks.” I started the car.
“We don’t like people using cell phones while they’re driving,” he called.
“I agree. It’s dangerous. That’s why I pulled over to talk.”
“We ticket people for talking while t
hey drive.”
Is he kidding? Grace cried, indignant. These people talk on cells all the time. We didn’t have them in my day. Far better, if you ask me.
I wasn’t asking her. She sounded like my grandmother would have sounded had she been alive. They were roughly the same age.
But cell phones were a fact of life—as was the power that went with Marshall Greenwood’s badge. I might sass him all I wanted, but he’d only get me again. It was infuriating. And if I dwelt on how infuriating it was (as I had done after he stopped me in town), his power only increased.
So, still smiling, I said a pleasant, “I’ll remember that.”
“I’d advise it.”
“Thank you.”
He seemed to want to carry on the argument, but didn’t know where to go with it. I had deprived him of opposition. It was the wisest thing I could have done.
He frowned, still thinking. Apparently realizing there was nothing more to say, he simply faced forward and drove off. It struck me then that Marshall Greenwood didn’t have much experience being a tough guy—and that made me wonder why he was doing it to me.
Actually, I knew why he was doing it to me. I had struck a Meade nerve. That alone was reason for me to persevere.
I know. I know. There was the matter of James. But my running with James had nothing to do with the other. Then again, if he and I developed enough of a relationship so that I could milk him for information that would help me with the other, so much the better.
With Marshall Greenwood now out of sight, I started the car and headed for Tom’s. He lived in a yellow Victorian not unlike our Victorians on Willow but on a far larger piece of land. I guessed he owned acres, much of them meadowed. At the front of the property was the house, surrounded by grass, the occasional shrub, and two enormous trees. A wooden swing hung from the arm of an oak; a large tire hung from the arm of a maple. A wraparound porch hugged the house, broken only by wide wood steps leading to the front door and to a side door. Not far from the foot of the latter was a picnic table with benches on either side. Potted petunias, a striking violet hue and evenly spaced, hung from the edge of the porch roof all the way around the wrap.
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