Against All Odds (Arabesque) (30 page)

BOOK: Against All Odds (Arabesque)
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He got out of the car and paced around it in an effort to walk off some of the anger building in him. He’d been willing to sacrifice more for their relationship than Melissa could imagine. Even face down his mother. But Melissa hadn’t believed in him. He stopped himself just as his right fist drove toward the truck’s windshield. Her rejection had hurt him. He got a shovel and walked around to clean the snow from the steps of the combination sundeck and greenhouse that his father had built on to the exterior of the dining room wall. But he felt no better after the vigorous exercise. Up in his room he locked the door, fell across his bed, and began planning for his move back to New York.

* * *

Melissa stopped by her mother’s house the next morning on her way to work. She’d never done that before, and her mother would guess that something was troubling her, something unpleasant. Emily waved a hand when Melissa tried to talk in a voice muffled with tears.

“I know. I know. He told me Sunday morning that when he’d finished, the two of you wouldn’t be speaking. I tried to warn you, but you didn’t answer your phone. Your father won’t stand by docilely and let Adam have you. He’s wrong, but I know the pain and humiliation he feels where that family is concerned. The feud is a screen—that was never his battle. Knowing that his wife would always love another man ate him up inside. Melissa, his hatred of the Hayeses and Roundtrees has had thirty-one years to harden and fester. Tell me what he did.”

Melissa recounted it, and encouraged by her mother’s stunned expression, she went on.

“Adam was taken with her. He said so himself.”

“When did it happen?”

“When he was in his early teens. Oh, it doesn’t matter.” The tears that pooled in her eyes failed to fall, so startled was she when her mother grabbed her shoulders and shook her.


My God.
It
does
matter. Louise is fifteen or sixteen years older than Adam. You mean to tell me you’ve fallen into the same kind of trap that I did? You’ve put family above your love. You made up your mind to believe Rafer and Louise before you heard what Adam had to say. Don’t you know about Louise’s reputation when she was younger? How could you be so foolish?”

Melissa opened her mouth, closed it, and repeated the action, amazed at her mother’s harshness.

“Adam won’t dance to your tune,” Emily told her. “And he won’t swear off of women the way Bill Henry did. He’ll go on with his life, and you’ll be an unpleasant memory. I never could understand why you allowed Rafer to worm himself and his influence into everything you did. I was glad when you left town, even if I didn’t see my own role in it.”

“I only wanted his approval. I wanted him to feel the same way about me that he did about Schyler.”

Emily reached up and put an arm around her daughter. “And he knew that and used it as a weapon to bend you to his will. Now that it doesn’t work, he first tried strong-arming you and then blackmailing me. We both defied him, so he took revenge. But he couldn’t have done it without your help, Melissa. Oh, yes. You helped him. I thought you loved Adam. Didn’t you learn anything from my life?”

“I don’t know why I stopped by here this morning. I just couldn’t seem to go anywhere else. I think I’ve upset you, and I’m sorry, Mama.”

Emily Grant shook her head as though in wonder. “Honey, you came to me because I’m your mother. But you didn’t learn anything from my stupidity. Well, maybe you’ll learn something from this: if Bill Henry will have me, I’m his. As soon as my divorce is final, I’m going to him, get down on my knees, and beg his forgiveness. Beg him to let me live my last years with him, married or not. I don’t care. And I couldn’t care less about the gossipmongers of Frederick and Beaver Ridge. I need him. I just want to go to sleep and wake up in the same bed with him.”

Melissa’s eyebrows shot up, and she stared in mute astonishment at her mother. Appalled. Was this what she had done to herself in letting Adam go? Why hadn’t she listened to her heart? She found words, but it wasn’t easy.

“Mama, how can you feel this way about him after all this time? It’s been thirty-one years.” She watched the tears gather in her mother’s eyes.

“Thirty-one? It seems to me like thirty-one hundred.”

* * *

Melissa hadn’t expected to accomplish much work that morning, and she didn’t. The pain of knowing she’d lost Adam was almost more than she could tolerate. Why, she wondered, had Magnus Cooper chosen that morning to call? She hadn’t been able to summon either her normal professional demeanor nor to act her naturally cool self. Just when she’d feared her ability to continue the conversation, he’d asked her about her relationship with Adam, and she hadn’t been able to lie.

“Any chance you’ll give him the boot if he shows up?” Magnus asked her with a nonchalance that she realized was clearly forced. She thought of her mother and B-H.

“Not as long as cats scratch.”

“What?”

“There’s not much likelihood of that,” she amended.

“Then I hope you’ve got sense enough to go to him. It’s been my experience that pride isn’t good company, Melissa. And it sure won’t keep you warm. Roundtree impressed me as being a fair man. If he’s responsible for your misunderstanding, he’ll come to you. But if you’re the one who messed up, honey, he won’t budge. Invite me to the big event, and I’ll send your first kid a thoroughbred pony.”

* * *

Melissa hadn’t needed Magnus’s lecture. She was in the wrong, and she knew that Adam wouldn’t come to her. He’d said his last word on the subject. She wanted to go to him, wanted him back in her life and in her arms, but he’d never given her a reason to think he wanted her to be a permanent fixture in his life. Twice she’d told him she loved him, and he hadn’t yet said he loved her. Only that he cared. She knew he cared, otherwise she’d have to conclude that he had a streak of promiscuity.

Melissa welcomed Banks when she sauntered in around a quarter of ten with two cups of coffee and her usual box of hot, powdered doughnuts.

“Here,” Banks said, holding out the coffee. “This won’t cure what ails you, but it’ll at least warm your tongue.”

“Why do you think something is the matter with me?” Melissa asked her, reaching for the paper cup and realizing simultaneously that she would have been smart not to ask.

“Is this the first time you’ve seen me today?” Banks asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve just answered your own question. You met me once in the hallway, and you stood almost on top of me in the ladies’ room. You took your comb out of your purse, looked at yourself in the mirror, put the comb back where you got it, and left the place.”

A flash of annoyance gripped Melissa momentarily at having exposed her emotions without realizing it. “Why didn’t you speak to
me?
” she asked Banks in what she meant as a reprimand.

“I did, but it didn’t penetrate.” Melissa set the cup on her desk and waited for what her friend would say next. Banks always had a punch line.

“At least you didn’t bump into me without apologizing, the way Mr. Roundtree did. I’m thinking of writing a manual on common courtesy and distributing it to some of the people in this building.”

“I’m sorry, Banks. I didn’t intend to be rude.”

Banks sent a perfect smoke ring toward the ceiling. “I know. But you’d better get it together with Adam. The word’s out that he’s making plans to move back to New York, and that’s strange, because a couple of days ago, he was over at Jack Pettigrew’s place ordering a new desk. They sell those in New York, don’t they?” Banks didn’t give Melissa time to answer. Just picked up the remainder of her doughnuts, sauntered to the door, waved, and left.

* * *

Adam threw his briefcase in the back of the Jaguar, decided the engine had been warmed up sufficiently, and pulled out of the garage. A good rain that night had melted the remainder of the snow, and he figured on getting to Baltimore in thirty minutes. How could so much have happened in less than an hour? For months he’d thought of himself in relation to Melissa, and now he had to change that. He hadn’t wanted to involve the FBI in the sabotage of Leather and Hides, because he hadn’t wanted to risk an escalation of the antagonism between the two families. He didn’t want that now, but the break in his relationship with Melissa had added urgency to his getting away from Frederick and back to New York. He had to get her out of his thoughts, and he wouldn’t do that easily if he had to see her unexpectedly a half dozen times a day. He had wrestled with his feelings for her the whole night—even when he finally slept, she’d been there to mock him in his dreams. He pulled into the right lane to let a nervous driver pass, slowed down, and decided to remain there.

He’d have sworn that she loved him. She probably did, but— He took a deep breath, turned on the radio, and whistled along with a singer whose name he didn’t know. When had Melissa become so important to him that he needed her trust? He’d never given a damn whether people had confidence in him. He’d never needed to—he knew he was trustworthy. He pulled up to the Federal Building, put a couple of quarters in the parking meter, and went inside. When he left an hour later, the Feds knew everything about the sabotage of the Hayes/Roundtree leather factory, and Adam had the name of an FBI contact who would serve as undercover agent at Leather and Hides. Adam marveled at the thoroughness of the man who interviewed him; he held everyone suspect who had any connection to the factory. Adam drove next to the office of the secret agent.

“Shouldn’t take long,” the man told Adam. “Crooks tip their hand without knowing they’re doing it.”

“These are slick, and they’re greedy,” Adam replied. “They want to bring me down. How much time will you need?”

“From what you’ve told me, I’d say a week at most, but probably only three or four days. One thing. No one—not even your manager—is to know about me.”

“Right.”

“I’ll check in tomorrow.”

“Check in at my home.” Adam handed the agent his card. “And make it after dark. I’ll be expecting you.” The man read the card, dropped it in an ashtray and struck a match to it.

“By the way, who lives there with you?”

Adam looked at the man in surprise. It hadn’t occurred to him that a secret agent would suspect members of his family. “My mother and, on weekends, my brother. He’s managing editor of
The Maryland Journal.
” The man nodded.

Adam left feeling as though the man had violated his privacy. But that didn’t compare with what he’d experienced when he walked out of Melissa’s house four days earlier. He still carried the sense of abuse and abandonment that he’d felt when she withheld her trust. But he vowed he’d get over that. He’d liked her a hell of a lot, but that was all, he assured himself. He was going back to New York and put her in his past.

He telephoned Emily that night and made a luncheon date with her for the following day at noon. She declined a drink.

“My ladies at The Refuge need me to have a clear head, Adam.”

She didn’t seem surprised when he failed to mention Melissa, and he supposed she knew that he and her daughter had broken off their relationship.

“Emily, I’m going back to New York soon, and I want you to know how much I appreciate the work you’re doing at the shelter. I hope being there hasn’t caused you any pain or regrets.” He lifted her hand, and her delicate fingers reminded him of the times he’d held Melissa’s hand while they talked, or laughed. Or fired each other with desire.

“My only regret, Adam, is that I didn’t do this years ago. And my pain hasn’t ceased, but it got noticeably duller the day Rafer decided he’d be more comfortable living somewhere else.” She looked at him steadily, and he saw the truth in her clear, honest eyes. “If I get another chance at a pain-free life, just one more chance at a little happiness, I’ll grab it and hold on to it with all my might as long as I live.”

Adam took Emily back to The Refuge, where she’d switched to volunteering full time. He hugged her and realized that he had developed a deep affection for Melissa’s mother. He made his way to his cubbyhole in the basement, checked his incoming box, and hurried back to his office in the Jacob Hayes Building. He’d gotten the information he wanted. His uncle had been right; Emily Morris still loved him. He was glad for B-H, but the realization that two people could care so deeply after so long a time and under such circumstances didn’t console him about his feelings for Melissa.

At dinner that Friday evening, Adam told Wayne and his mother that he planned to move back to New York.

“But you can’t go before we solve the problem at the factory,” Wayne complained.

“I didn’t say that I would, but as soon as that’s settled, I’m leaving.” His mother asked whether he planned to leave before Christmas.

“I’ll be here for Christmas, but I’ll be leaving the following morning.” He knew he sounded curt and detached. Well, so be it. He had already begun to distance himself from Frederick and from Melissa. What might have been didn’t interest him. And he wasn’t sorry that he’d kept a tight rein on his feelings for Melissa, that he had resisted the temptation to let go and let himself love her. He might be many things, but he knew he was a survivor. You got to be that way by protecting your flank, and in this case that meant removing himself from wherever Melissa happened to be.

“What about Melissa?” Wayne dared ask.

Adam threw the remainder of his cognac to the back of his throat and stood. “That’s in the past.” He ignored their stunned expressions, strode to the hall closet, got his leather jacket, and headed for the little clapboard house down the road.

* * *

Adam walked up the modest steps and caught himself wondering whether he could be content to live as B-H did—a semi-recluse who rationed his ventures out among people, avoided ties with all but his family, and did as he pleased. Why the hell should I? he asked aloud, annoyed at having let himself contemplate that easy solution to his life. He heard familiar pops from the big stone fireplace in his uncle’s living room as he let himself in the house.

“You roasting peanuts?” he asked by way of a greeting.

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