A Season of Miracles (10 page)

“Nothing. It was a good day.”

“Um. So what did Jillian do?”

“Oh, nothing, you know Jillian. What's good for the company…”

“I thought you told me that you agreed the ad campaign would be a good thing?”

“Yeah, it will be great.”

“Then…?”

“I'm sick of her agreeing, I'm sick of her being so irritatingly decent, I'm just sick of her being…being…”

“Disgustingly beautiful, charming, hardworking—”

She creamed him with a pillow. He had to make a desperate save in order to balance the martini glass.

“Sorry.” He laughed.

“Why do I feel this way?” she asked, curling up next to him.

“Because you're afraid Douglas will leave her all his shares in the company?”

“Is that it?” she mused. “I don't think so. She's my closest relative, my only first cousin. And we're friends, really friends. We talk, she listens. God knows, she did go through hell with Milo, and I didn't mind her so much then.”

“She's in the limelight. She's going to be representing Llewellyn Enterprises,” Gary suggested, still trying to speak lightly. “She's just too damn…perfect,” he suggested.

“She's making me crazy,” Eileen said, getting up to walk around the room.

“Well, then, I have an idea,” Gary said.

“What?”

“We just do away with her.”

“What?”

“We do away with her.” He pretended to form a shotgun with his arm and forefinger. “We shoot her. Up in Connecticut, out in the snow.”

“Gary! I'm not—”

“Oh, I know, I know. Nowhere near clean enough for you.”

“Gary, get serious.”

“I
am
serious.”

“Gary…”

“Okay, shooting her might be a bit drastic. Can we shove her out a window? Nope, not from the Llewellyn Building. The windows are all permanently sealed. Well, surely there's a garden on top of the building somewhere that we can get her to—”

“Gary!”

“Then there are the streets of New York. God knows, the taxis can be deadly. We can write about it afterward. We'll call it ‘Death on Brooklyn Bridge.'”

“Gary, stop.”

“Why?” he asked innocently.

“You're being far too obvious,” she told him. She pounced on the sofa next to him, and he had to make another wild save for the martini. But she was smiling again at last. Eyes bright. Devious. She snuggled up beside him and laughed. “If I ever were to plan a murder…”

“Yes? Oh, I know, my dear, darling, sumptuous little schemer. It would have to be far more ingenious. And subtle.”

“Subtle. Of course, darling. Subtle,” she agreed.

“I
still dislike it,” Robert said, easing back in the leather-lined booth at Hennessey's. Oddly enough, he'd opted for a Guinness today. Something Irish. Dark.

Moody.

He was referring to the ad campaign.

“I don't really understand why,” Daniel said, frowning. “Look, you know Jackie Kennedy was an editor before she died. Now who could be more high profile than Jackie Kennedy? But she went up the elevator every morning with dozens of other people. This is New York City. We're pretty impressed with ourselves at Llewellyn Enterprises, but in the end, what are we? Just a business. Look, Jillian is my cousin.”

“Second cousin,” Robert reminded him. He wasn't sure why he was going for that detail.

“Second cousin. My point is, she's family. She's the little kid I looked after the whole time I was growing up. I love Jillian. If I thought this campaign would harm her in any way, I'd be the first to veto it.” He drained his beer and set down the glass. “Excuse me, will you? I'll be right back. Nature calls.”

After Daniel left him, Robert drummed his fingers on the table. Their waitress came by. “Mr. Marston, can I get you another?”

He looked up. The young woman looked vaguely familiar. She was slim, with a face that appeared a bit worn and prematurely lined, but she had nice eyes, warm eyes.

“Do I know you?” he asked politely.

“Not really, not as I am now.”

“Well, that's an interesting answer. How do you know my name?”

“I asked if anyone knew who you were the minute you came in.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “You gave me money when I was about as low as I could get.” She bit her lip. “Cocaine. I had a baby, hit the streets, worked the streets, picked up a drug habit, then got too ugly even to support it. The night you gave me the money, you said you'd like to have a kid one day, too, and you gave me another twenty and…I realized I was lucky, incredibly lucky, to have such a wonderful, healthy little girl. So I went home. And my folks took us both in. My dad is an old customer here, so he got me the job.”

“Wow,” he murmured, studying her. “Good for you.
Damn
good for you.”

“I'd never have done it without you.”

“I think that's a bit too—”

“I'm not trying to embarrass you or anything. I'm just trying to thank you. Accept my thanks graciously, okay?”

He laughed. “Okay. You're welcome. And in return, may I tell you, if I've improved your life, you might well be my greatest accomplishment.”

She flushed. “Well, I don't know about that. I hear you're a pretty important man. But if I can ever do anything for you…”

“I'll let you know. Thanks.”

“The next beer is on me.”

“Thank you.”

“Here comes your friend. Excuse me.”

She left the table as Daniel returned, but before he slid into the booth, he hesitated, glancing out the window.

“Well, look who's here,” he murmured.

Robert half rose, twisting around. Jillian was coming into the pub, followed by Connie Murphy.

“Hey, cuz!” Daniel said, summoning them.

The two women had been talking as they entered, and Robert noticed that Daniel had startled Jillian. For a moment, as she glanced their way, her expression was unmasked.

She was disturbed that they were there. Had she come here with a purpose in mind, and were they about to destroy it?

She quickly masked her surprise and walked over to them, Connie in tow.

“Sit, ladies, I'll buy you a beer,” Daniel said.

Connie slid in next to Daniel, leaving Jillian no choice but to sit next to Robert. She still seemed uncomfortable around him, he noticed, though pleasant. Courteous but cool—was that how she'd decided to behave around him?

“I'll have a Guinness,” Connie said. “Though I think dark beer makes you fatter.”

“Fatter than what?” Daniel queried.

“Well, fatter than whatever you were,” Connie told him.

The waitress came up behind them with a full tray. She had seen the two women enter, and there were four glasses of Guinness on her tray.

“All on the house,” she said sweetly, setting the glasses down.

“Thanks,” Jillian said. “And to what do we owe—”

“Just a thank-you for your patronage,” the waitress interrupted cheerfully. “We're always happy to serve the Llewellyn family here.”

“Well, thank you,” Jillian murmured. “Thank you very much.” Her words were genuine. Robert noticed her eyes when she spoke, and the beautiful flecks of pure emerald in them. Her features were all but flawless. She really was a striking woman.

She didn't notice his perusal, just sipped her beer, seeming to eye it suspiciously.

The waitress had walked away. Daniel was telling Connie to remind her husband about the meeting they were having with some buyers the next morning.

“I don't think it's really that evil,” Robert told Jillian.

She almost jumped, apparently startled that he was watching her. “Evil?”

“You're staring at your beer as if you think it might bite.”

She flushed and smiled. “No, but I had two…maybe three last night. Then a fortune-teller spooked me, and I passed out and later had nightmares. I'd actually been thinking of something a bit lighter for this evening.”

“Then, we'll get you something lighter.”

“Oh, no, it's all right. I don't think the beer…”

“That the beer caused the situation?”

“I wish it had,” she murmured.

“Do you think
I'm
evil, then?”

“No, of course not,” she protested, flushing more furiously.

He glanced across the table. Daniel and Connie were still deep in conversation.

“Good, I'm glad. Because I'm not. In fact, I intend to be there for you,” he said. He had meant it lightly, not intending to betray Douglas Llewellyn's trust in any way. He was disturbed himself by the sudden intensity of his voice, but he spoke again, anyway. “I swear, when you need me, I'll be there for you.”

The words had an echo.

As if he'd spoken them before, he thought.

And she was staring at him. Completely perplexed.

As if she'd heard him speak those exact same words before.

“Wow, sorry,” he murmured, easing back against the wall. “I didn't mean to get so scary there. I just meant that…”

“That you'd be there. On my side,” she murmured.

“Yeah.”

“I should probably leave—”

“No, don't, please.”

“Hey, you're the one who wanted to come here,” Connie protested, picking up on their conversation.

Jillian didn't move.

The waitress came back to the table. “You all said that you'd just come for a drink, so I didn't mention that the special tonight is shepherd's pie. Really excellent, if you'd like to stay for dinner.”

“Shepherd's pie,” Daniel said, looking across the table at Jillian. “You know who used to make the best shepherd's pie in the world?”

She smiled back. “My mother, so I've heard.”

Daniel nodded. “I wasn't all that old myself when she died, but I'll never forget how good a cook she was. She could whip up a masterpiece with a whole kitchen full of little terrors. And her shepherd's pie was the best. Let's stay.”

“Gee, I can't,” Connie said.

“Jilly?” Daniel said.

“Well…” Jillian murmured.

“Hey, isn't someone going to say, ‘Sure, Connie, you can stay. Call your mom. We'll all be so disappointed if you don't have dinner with us. Maybe Joe can come, too.'”

Daniel grinned at Jillian, then turned toward Connie. “Sure, Connie, you can stay. Call your mom. We'll all be so disappointed if you don't have dinner with us. Maybe Joe can come, too.”

“Mr. Llewellyn, you're a quick study,” she told him. “Excuse me, I'll make a call.” She slid from the booth.

“Connie, I have a phone right here,” Daniel said.

“I don't want to sound as if I'm having too much fun. And I may have to beg and plead a bit. Embarrassing in front of friends—and the boss.”

“Robert, can you stay?” Daniel enquired.

“Wouldn't miss it,” he agreed.

“Is this in his job description, Daniel?” Jillian murmured, sipping her beer, speaking to Daniel, but studying Robert's eyes.

“Dinner with fellow employees, especially at friendly Irish pubs. Bitch of a job, but hey…” Robert murmured back.

She smiled, the slightest stain of a blush touching her cheeks. Something inside him churned. She was stunning. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her and protect her. More than that. The feelings inside him had little to do with protection. She suddenly seemed as hot as the sun. He reached out and touched her cheek.
She would fly like a doe at the scent of a hunter!
he thought, instantly ruing his action. But she didn't. She was studying him, as if she barely realized he was touching her—

“So is it shepherd's pie?”

The waitress had returned. They both jumped away from each other. No one else seemed to notice.

But they knew. They both knew.

Connie came back to the table announcing that Joe would be joining them. He arrived within a few minutes. They talked about work, the city, the weather, politics, inane things.

Robert felt her presence all the while. Heard her laughter. Her perfume was intoxicating. Her laughter was more so. Her warmth seeped into him. Her every smile, her every move, seduced him.

Get a grip, buddy. Get a life,
he warned himself.

She was a fire he longed to touch, burning beside him.

When dinner was done, coffee served and they were all ready to leave, he turned to Jillian. “I'll see you home?”

He was holding his breath. Like an adolescent, afraid she would refuse him.

“Hey, you came with me by cab, remember? Left your car home this morning,” Daniel reminded him.

“I'll come along and make sure your cabdriver knows the way,” Robert said to her, smiling ruefully at his own lapse.

She hesitated. He felt the constriction of his heart. She needed to hesitate, needed to stay away, he thought briefly.

“Sure,” she said softly.

He almost forgot why he had wanted to come back to Hennessey's, but just before they left, the women went off to the ladies' room.

He walked over to the bar. The man on duty was big and dark-haired, with hazel eyes; from his accent, he appeared to be right over from County Cork.

“Excuse me, I was interested in the woman who was in here the other night. Madame Zena.”

“Yeah?” The bartender studied him curiously. “Now, you don't look like the kind of fellow who'd be into all that.”

“She said some interesting things. I'd like to know more about her.”

“Ah, well, curious thing. She came back for her money just this mornin'. But we'd checked out the address she'd given us and…” “And?”

“Well, that address would put her in the middle of the Hudson River.”

“Do you have a phone number?”

“I don't, but the owner, he just may. I'll find out for you, Mr. Marston.”

“Thanks.”

When he turned away from the bar, he saw that Jillian had returned. She was standing with her coat and purse in hand, waiting, watching him. She was alone.

“The others have left,” she said, then asked him, “You want to find the fortune-teller?”

He shrugged. “I'd like to ask her a few questions.”

“Why?”

He took her coat, placed it around her shoulders. “I came back here when I dropped you off last night. She said some strange things to me.”

“Maybe it
is
something in the beer,” Jillian suggested solemnly.

“I don't think so.”

“Someone put her up to telling specific fortunes?”

“I thought that might be the case. I'd been supposed to meet Daniel here. I thought maybe he'd told her to say a few things.”

“But he denied it?”

“Yes. He suggested Griff.”

Jillian grimaced. “Yes, he may be your culprit. He's the eternal joker.”

“He certainly wants people to think so,” Robert said. She arched a brow. “I didn't come to Llewellyn blind, or without doing a great deal of research. Griff has suggested some of the best marketing policies the company has going. He knows about incentives, and keeping goods out on the market. Shall we?”