Autumn Dreams (7 page)

You’ve got nothing but time
, another voice muttered.
Nothing but time stretching as far as your imagination can see
.

And just like that, the panic opened up again, this time in the form of a giant chasm gaping at his feet, huge, yawning, bottomless. A cold sweat drenched him, and his breath came in gasps.

So I have nothing but time
, he told himself as he took deep, steadying gulps of the cool morning air.
So what? I’m just on a prolonged vacation. That’s all
.

He didn’t believe himself. Vacations were supposed to be fun times, not days spent in an agony of uncertainty and fear, feeling useless and powerless. He put his hand out to support himself against the sycamore tree, waiting for the panic to pass, praying for it to pass.

The back door flew open. He jumped, looked up, and blinked in surprise as Cass Merton rushed out in a pair of running shorts and shoes. Her hair was pulled carelessly back in a ponytail. Her sweatshirt read Out of My Way; I’m Running.

She began stretching without noting him lurking behind the sycamore, and as he watched her, the black void at his feet slowly disappeared. His feet rested on solid ground again.

Her face was clear of last night’s hurt, but there were violet stains under her eyes, as if she’d passed a sleepless night.

“Good morning,” he said.

She stopped dead, her arms over her head, and gave a little bleep of alarm. As she lowered her arms, he noted that her left hand ring finger was bare. No hulking husband? Hard to believe.

“Sorry.” Dan held up a hand as he came out from behind the tree. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He stopped in the center of the small courtyard behind SeaSong.

“Good morning, Mr. Harmon.” She gave him a stiff smile, and her cheeks reddened. Probably embarrassed as she remembered last night.

“Do you run regularly?” It was inane, but it was all he could
think to say. The comfort well was still dry.

“I try for four times a week.” She smiled again, more naturally this time. “Sometimes I even make it, like this week.” She bent at the waist to adjust a sock. “It’s summer that gives me difficulty.”

“A full house and a load of work?”

She nodded. “But it’s hardly something I can complain about.”

They pulled their feet up behind them, touching their heels to their bottoms, stretching their thigh muscles. There was something pleasant about warming up with her, about finding her an exercise enthusiast like himself. Somehow the vision of her running off in one direction and him in the other seemed foolish.

“Where do you like to run most?” he asked as he released his foot.

She shrugged. “The high school track.” She pointed to the south, and Dan could make out the school itself rising above the trees a block away. “The boardwalk, though not in high summer. Too crowded.”

“Where are you heading this morning?”

“I think just over to the track. I’ve still got a lot to do for breakfast, and Brenna’s not due until seven-thirty.”

Cass started an easy jog toward the high school, and Dan fell in beside her. She didn’t seem to mind.

“Brenna’s the girl on the porch?” he asked

Color stained Cass’s cheeks again. “No. That’s Jenn, my niece.”

He nodded. “Fifteen?”

“Sixteen. And a drama queen if ever there was one.” Cass gave a rueful smile. “The funny thing is that I used to be her favorite aunt.”

“But not anymore?” It was more statement than question.

“Not since I started imposing discipline. She and her brother, Jared, are living with me this year while their parents, my brother Tommy and sister-in-law Rhonda, are on overseas assignment for Tommy’s company.”

“Where are they?”

“Saudi Arabia.”

“Ah.” There was a moment of silence where all he heard was their breathing. “My brother and sister-in-law live overseas too.”

Cass glanced up at him. “Where?”

“France. They’re missionaries.” He waited for the usual start of disbelief. Most people he knew couldn’t fathom someone being a missionary.

“Really? How wonderful!”

He blinked. She’d surprised him.

“You must be proud of them.”

Dan nodded. He was proud of Andy. It took a lot of courage to adopt another country as your home, to adapt to another culture, to raise your kids away from their heritage and homeland, away from family and friends.

“How long have they lived in France?”

Dan did some quick math. “Eighteen years.”

“Where?”

“A little town called Cognin.”

“Is it a picturesque little town?”

“I don’t know.”

Cass looked at him in surprise as they crossed the street, heading for the baseball diamond and the track beyond. “You don’t know?”

Dan heard something he couldn’t quite define in her voice. “No, but it looks pretty in their pictures.”

“Haven’t you ever been to visit?”

Dan shook his head. “Too busy.”

“To visit your brother?”

This time he identified the disbelief and censure without any trouble.

“What do you do for a living that’s so demanding?” she demanded.

“I conduct due diligence on companies.”

“You do what?”

“I vet companies to see if they’re safe for my clients to invest in.”

“And vets can’t take vacations?”

“I’m not a vet.”

“Or maybe you’re not successful enough to afford the trip.”

He turned, ready to defend himself, but he saw she knew very well that he wasn’t a vet and that he could afford the trip. After all, he was paying for the most expensive of her rooms indefinitely. He relaxed.

“Who’s the pretty girl at SeaSong with light brown hair that she wears in a pony tail? Big brown eyes? She was behind the registration desk when I arrived.”

Cass looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “The brothers do that.”

He frowned. “What brothers? Do what?”

“My brothers. Change the subject when it gets too hot.” And she took off around the bases of the ball diamond.

He raced after her, but he never quite caught up. She stepped where home plate would be if the field were prepared for a game. “Yes!” She did a little dance as he jogged in place beside her. “I always wanted to play on the boys’ team in high school, but my family, especially the brothers, didn’t want me to.”

“How many brothers?”

“Four, and all older.” She grinned at him, a delightful, impish curve to her mouth. “They didn’t want me to play because they knew I was better than they were.”

“A little cocky here, aren’t we?” he asked as they jogged off the baseball field.

She shrugged. “I can’t help it if I’m good. And the girl at SeaSong is Brenna.”

“Ah. She was making a phone call when I saw her, or at least almost making one. And I could swear she was about ready to cry.”

Cass grabbed at a clip holding her hair back on the side and reinserted it to catch a piece of soft blond hair that had fallen on her neck.

“Ready to cry, huh?” She looked thoughtful. “I haven’t figured Brenna out yet. You know how you find these kids who are much too smart to be doing whatever job they’re doing?”

Dan nodded. He’d used a couple of bike messengers in New York who were like that—brilliant kids who for some reason didn’t want the responsibility of a regular job.

“That’s Brenna. She’s worked for me since the middle of August when the summer kids began disappearing to return to college. She showed up at my door one morning, said she was new in town, and did I need a chambermaid. She’s reliable and willing to do anything I ask, and she never complains. But something’s wrong. Or at the very least, something’s not right.”

They stepped onto the track, and Cass began to run in earnest. Her long legs ate up the ground, and Dan dropped back to watch her.

“I bet you love to beat the boys, don’t you?” he yelled to her.

She slowed and glanced over her shoulder. “Any time I can.” And she was off again.

She was one of those women who obviously loved physical activity, not because it was fashionable or healthful, but because it was fun. He bet she was accomplished in several sports. Yet she didn’t move like a jock. She had a grace that made her movements smooth and flowing, a pleasure to watch.

Maybe being unemployed and shiftless wouldn’t be so bad if he could follow her around all day.

Shiftless. Ah, dear Lord, I can’t stand the thought!

As they walked briskly back to SeaSong, they were both puffing pleasantly. Dan was used to slowing his gait for women, but Cass had no trouble keeping up with his long strides. Her cheeks were rosy from exertion, and wisps of hair had fallen free to cling to her damp neck. He had trouble keeping his eyes off her.

They stepped up onto the curb at SeaSong, and Cass stopped. Dan pulled up too.

“Hey, Mr. Carmichael,” Cass called as she waved to an old man standing in front of the battered house next door.

Mr. Carmichael looked up from his study of the scraggly yews fronting his decaying porch. “Cassandra,” he said with no enthusiasm.

“Ready to sell yet?” Cass asked.

“Never.” He pointed his finger at her. “And never to you, missy.”

Cass grinned. “I love you too, Mr. Carmichael.” But as she turned away and walked toward the back of SeaSong, she sighed.

Dan looked at her, intrigued. “Do you really want to buy his house?” It was small and ramshackle, far beneath the glorious standards of SeaSong.

“I’d like to renovate it.”

Dan stepped back and studied the house next door again. It was the equivalent of a dirty, wizened street person with its peeling paint, missing porch spindles, and ragged lawn. He hurried to catch up with her. “But it’s a disaster.”

“Now. Still, it’s better than SeaSong was when I got it.”

Dan looked at the beautifully painted and landscaped SeaSong. “You’re kidding.”

She shook her head. “Absolutely falling down.”

“You certainly hired some very capable people to make the transformation. SeaSong’s beautiful, both inside and out.”

She stopped and faced him, hands on her hips. “Why do you say that?”

“That SeaSong’s beautiful?” he asked, lost. “Because it is.”

“Not that.”

He knew from her tone that he’d stepped in a mess, but he couldn’t figure out what he’d said that upset her. “You mean my comment about hiring capable people?”

She nodded, her eyes narrowed at him.

Surprise jolted through him. “You actually did all the work yourself?”

“With occasional help from the brothers.”

Dan was afraid his face showed too much amazement, but he couldn’t help it. He looked up at the roof, the high windows, thought about the beautifully restored woodwork in the library, his sleek, modern bathroom and beautiful bedroom.

“Except for the roof,” she qualified, obviously trying to be completely truthful. “I don’t do roofs. Or plumbing or electrical wiring. But painting, plastering, sanding, varnishing, decorating—all me.”

He looked at the third floor with its scalloped shingle siding. “Impressive.”

She followed his line of vision. “Cherry picker.”

“What?”

“I rented a cherry picker for the painting, both general and the detailing.”

He got vertigo just thinking about it.

She looked at him and apparently read his look of distaste for the task as disbelief. She shook her head in such a way that it was obvious she found him wanting. She gave a sad smile and a halfhearted wave. “See you at breakfast,” and she was gone.

But he didn’t see her at breakfast. All he saw were Brenna of the big brown eyes who smiled politely as she poured his coffee and Jenn, the drama queen, who wouldn’t look him in the eye.
After polishing off the delicious warm grapefruit sweetened with brown sugar, the egg casserole laced with cheese and ham, and the freshly baked scones with lemon curd and clotted cream, he wandered back to his room. He stood in the turret and stared into space. Now what should he do with himself?

The lost feeling threatened him again, but he fought against it. He couldn’t let himself panic every time he felt bored or wretched. After all, he had survived 9/11, unlike so many of his business connections. He had come away from the experience with nothing but a ruined suit, raspy breathing, the echoes of screams that still haunted him in the night, and a vision of collapsing steel and concrete that never faded.

For years before that infamous day all he’d thought about was business, business, business. Somehow, though he never intended it to be so, God had gotten lost as he found success. Not that he ever said, “I don’t believe anymore, God. Get out of my life.” It was more, “I’m so busy being successful that I don’t have time for You, Lord.”

“Love the L
ORD
your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.”

He rested his forehead against the window. That’s why he was here. To learn to love God. When he’d felt God pulling him to sell the Harmon Group and take time to reevaluate, he never expected it to be so painful. So frightening.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to stand up straight. For want of a better idea, he pulled out his laptop and wrote Andy the longest e-mail he could ever remember writing him. When Dan reread it before hitting send, he was surprised at how full of Cass it was. He almost erased it and started over, but then he thought about how much his sister-in-law would like teasing him about Cass, and he sent it electronically winging across the Atlantic.

Next, he went on-line and checked the figures from Wall Street as of closing Friday. He made a quick e-trade on a generic brand pharmaceutical company he had investigated just before he closed his business, and he made himself several thousand dollars. He wondered if the client he had researched this pharmaceutical company for found it as profitable as he did. He sighed. He’d probably never know because he’d never see the client again.

The phrase “footloose and fancy free” struck him. To be that unencumbered had never appealed to him, and now here he was, his feet loose and his fancy as free as it ever would be. He shuddered.

Then he thought of Andy again. He could make an e-trade for his brother. Of course, Andy had no portfolio. He barely had enough money for living expenses. But why should that be a problem? Dan had more than enough.