Dawn Stewardson (3 page)

She glanced at her watch, wondering if she should phone over to Nate’s and get something delivered for lunch. Hunter Clifton was so late for their appointment she was starting to wonder if he was coming at all. But she definitely wasn’t going to leave the office and risk missing him…which was really pretty ironic when he was her least favorite board member. After Sully’s visit, though, she had to talk to Hunter.

She couldn’t shake her sense of guilt about that funding being cut off, because as far as she was concerned it should have been continued. So even though Sully was obnoxious as all get out…

And he really
was.
He might look as if he belonged in a dream, but his personality was nightmare city. She could still hear the way he’d snarled at her. And that remark about her snooping behind his back had been absolutely dripping sarcasm—whatever he’d meant by it.

But it was the kids at Eagles Roost who’d be hurt if his program went under. So the least she could do was talk to Hunter about it. Because if she could get him to do an about-face, then convincing the rest of the board members they should at least
try
to find some extra money would be a piece of cake.

As if on cue, there was a knock on her door.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It’s your father.”

She headed over to unlock the door. With the corporate offices of Van Slyke Enterprises on the top floor of the building, her father was always dropping in. And now that the family was threatened, he’d probably be doing it even more frequently. He and her mother had kept her on the phone for an hour last night, warning her about a thousand and one different things. Then they’d done the same thing to her sister. Marisa had called later, to compare notes.

“Rosalie’s not at her desk,” her father greeted her when she opened the door.

“No, she usually goes out for lunch with a friend on Fridays.”

He nodded. “Well, I’m glad to see you had your door locked. I’ve put extra security in the building, but there’s not much more I can do. What about the idea of your taking some time off, though? Did you give that any more thought?”

“Dad, as far as I’m concerned we finished that discussion last night. Elliot said the chances of anything happening were really remote, remember? So I’ll be fine. I’m sure we’ll all be fine. Elliot included,” she added, hoping she was right.

Her father didn’t look happy, but changed the subject, saying, “Your mother asked me to stop by and tell you Marisa’s invited herself for dinner tonight. So if you’d like to come, too…”

“I’ll call Mom later and let her know,” she said absently, tucking the idea of dinner into the back of her mind. At the moment, she had something more pressing to think about. How to politely get rid of her father.

As much as she loved him, the last thing she wanted when Hunter got here was an audience. Especially an audience who didn’t believe she was capable of doing anything right.

“Well,” she said at last, having come up with no better excuse than the truth, “if there’s nothing more, Hunter Clifton’s coming by to see me any minute, so—”

“Hunter? Oh, well then, I’ll just wait and say hello.”

She silently groaned as her father sat down across from her and began smoothing his already perfect gray hair.

“You know,” he said, “I don’t think I told you, but Hunter and I have worked out the most interesting financing on that project in SoHo. He’s much more of a risk-taker than most bankers. He’s a good man.”

“Mmm.” She smiled again. Her father didn’t actually know Hunter very well. They’d only met about six months ago, when Hunter had volunteered for the board. But Roger Van Slyke had always been one to judge a book by its cover. She clearly recalled him telling her, years ago, that Brandon was a good man, that she’d be a fool not to marry him.

Her failed marriage, though, was a whole other story. Unless her father had any ideas about…no, Hunter was married, plus at least ten years older than she was. And even her father would never think Hunter Clifton was her type.

Roger Van Slyke was just launching into the details of his SoHo financing when Hunter finally appeared—looking, as he always did, like one of the older male models from
GQ.
She suspected he had his hair trimmed weekly and spent at least fifteen minutes a day in a tanning salon.

He and her father greeted each other before Hunter even glanced in her direction.

“I’ve got your papers all ready,” she said when he did. Then she hesitated, reluctant to raise the other issue. But her father clearly wasn’t going anywhere, and Hunter was a genius at avoiding phone calls, which left her little choice.

“Hunter,” she began, “there’s something I’d like to ask you about while you’re here.”

“Uh-huh?” He pointedly checked his Rolex.

“I had a visit from Jack Sullivan yesterday. The Foster Alternatives program at Eagles Roost,” she elaborated at Hunter’s blank look.

His expression went from blank to annoyed in the blink of an eye. “I guess he wasn’t very happy.”

“No. And it started me wondering…what would you think about the board reconsidering his application? After all—”

“I think,” Hunter interrupted, “that would set an extremely bad precedent. And, frankly, in my opinion Jack Sullivan shouldn’t even be licensed to run a program like that, never mind get money from us. Why the Foundation’s been funding an ex-con is beyond me.”

“An ex-con?” Roger Van Slyke said. “We’ve been giving money to an ex-con? That’s ironic, isn’t it, considering this problem Elliot has.”

Lauren mentally screamed in frustration. Her father had never really been interested in the details of the projects the Foundation funded, and she’d just as soon keep things that way.

“Your son has a problem?” Hunter said.

Roger shook his head. “It’s nothing.” Then he looked at Lauren again and demanded, “What kind of ex-con? What did he do?”

She shrugged and said, “Nothing much,” hoping he’d let it go. The tight set of his mouth, though, said she’d have to tell him what she knew. “He broke into a few apartments,” she explained. “But he was only nineteen when he went to prison, only twenty-one when he got out. That was thirteen years ago, and he’s been straight since then.”

“You mean he hasn’t been arrested since then,” Hunter said. “I know,” he added, turning to her father, “that I haven’t even been a board member for a year yet. And I’ve tried not to criticize what’s been done before, but I really felt I had to object to that program.”

Roger Van Slyke looked across the desk and pinned Lauren with his gaze. “Did you support it?”

“Well…yes. All the reports Matthew Grimes wrote on it were very positive.”

“Lauren, what your predecessor approved is past history. You’re the director now.”

“I know that, but I understood why Matthew liked the Eagles Roost concept. Jack Sullivan had a rough childhood, just like the kids he takes on. They’re all at high risk for messing up their lives, and he tries to ensure they won’t, that they’ll never end up in jail the way he did. And the program has a lot of things going for it.”

“Such as?” her father asked skeptically.

“Well, for starters, the place he owns used to be an isolated fishing lodge, so he’s able to take these kids away from the problems in the city and put them in a completely different environment.”

“A lodge? How did an ex-con get his hands on something like that?”

“I wonder,” Hunter said snidely. “Maybe he broke into a few apartments
after
he served his time. Or maybe he pulled off something even bigger.”

Lauren resisted the urge to glare at Hunter and kept her eyes on her father. “Sullivan inherited the property.”

“From?”

She shrugged again. When she’d read that, she’d wondered the same thing, but the file hadn’t specified.

“Humph…inherited it,” her father muttered, as if he’d forgotten how he’d gotten all
his
property. Not to mention all his money.

“At any rate,” she pressed on, “Jack Sullivan provides a strong male role model that most of the boys have never had and—”

“A strong male role model?” Hunter interrupted. “Lauren, the man’s a criminal.”

“He
was,
Hunter. Back when he was only a kid himself.”

“He’s still an ex-con, which is hardly what I’d call a good role model. The idea of him being responsible for a bunch of impressionable boys would have struck me as absurd even if there hadn’t been that trouble.”

“What trouble?” Roger demanded.

“Oh, Lauren hasn’t mentioned it? Well, it’s quite the story. Back in January, one of Sullivan’s kids went into the nearest town and robbed a bank.”

“Fantastic,” Roger muttered. “And you thought we should continue funding the man?” He eyed Lauren critically, obviously certain this was yet another of her little errors in judgment.

When he finally looked away, Lauren shot a few daggers at Hunter Clifton. She knew exactly why he’d been so concerned about that
trouble.
The bank Sully’s kid had robbed just happened to be a branch of the bank Hunter was a vice president of.

Clearly oblivious to her daggers, Hunter said, “Let me offer you a little advice, Lauren. I know you have the paper qualifications for this job…”

Pausing, he glanced over to where her master’s degree hung on the wall. His gaze lingered long enough to let her know he considered it to be from a second-rate school. Or, more likely, a ninth-rate school.

“But you don’t have much practical experience,” he continued, focusing on her again. “And you’ve got to keep in mind you’re an administrator, not a social worker. And that there isn’t enough money in the world to make everyone happy. So you simply have to trust the board’s decisions, and not worry about the people we turn down.” He concluded his lecture by flashing her a phony smile, then looked at her father. “Had lunch yet, Roger?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then how about that sushi place down the block?”

“Lauren?” Her father glanced at her. “Join us?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a lot of work to get through this afternoon,” she lied. “So you two go on ahead.”
And I hope you, Hunter,
she silently added as they headed for the door,
get a bad piece of sushi and spend the night throwing up.

The visitations

A
FTER HER FATHER
and Hunter left, Lauren sat staring at nothing, feeling more like a child who’d been sent to her room than a thirty-year-old woman. Then she glanced at the Eagles Roost file and felt yet another twinge of guilt.

She was at least partly to blame for Sullivan losing his funding. If she’d written a dynamite report on his program, rather than just a standard recommendation for continued funding, he’d probably have gotten his money again. Regardless of Hunter Clifton’s objections.

Her thoughts were briefly interrupted by Rosalie, buzzing to say she was back from lunch. Then Lauren returned to wondering why she just didn’t seem able to do anything right—no matter how hard she tried.

Sometimes, she was sure there’d been a mix-up at the hospital, because she was nothing like either Elliot or Marisa. And while neither of her parents had ever come right out and said it, she knew she was a disappointment to them. Especially to her father, who expected so much of people.

She glanced over at the degree Hunter obviously held in such disdain and reminded herself that Hunter was an insufferable snob. Even if Washoe University wasn’t Harvard, at least she’d tried to make her father happy by going back to school after her divorce.

And her graduating in business administration
had
pleased him. His being pleased, though, wasn’t the same as his actually having faith in her. She knew he’d only pressed her to come and work for the family foundation because he doubted she could make it in the real world.

“Ms. Van Slyke?” Rosalie said over the intercom.

She leaned forward to answer, wondering what the
Ms. Van Slyke
was about. Rosalie only bothered with formality when she wanted to imply that her boss was an important woman. “Yes, Rosalie?”

“Ms. Van Slyke, there are two gentlemen here asking to see you. Two gentlemen without appointments.”

The way Rosalie was saying
gentlemen,
Lauren knew her visitors were anything but.

“They say,” Rosalie continued, “you won’t know their names, but that it’s important you talk to them.”

There was a brief silence, then Rosalie added, “They say, Ms. Van Slyke, I should tell you they’ve come all the way from Eagles Roost.”

“Well…please show them in.”

When Lauren rose to greet her visitors, she found that she was taller than either of them…which was unusual. But then, her visitors were generally adults and these two couldn’t be more than about twelve.

She sized them up while they nervously introduced themselves as Billy and Hoops, two of Sully’s kids. They were dressed in standard adolescent summer uniforms—sleeveless T-shirts, shorts and sneakers without socks.

Billy was a little shorter than five feet and Hoops an inch or two over. But what they lacked in size and eloquence, they made up for in sincerity, launching right into telling her how great Jack Sullivan was and how much they liked being at Eagles Roost. Billy did most of the talking, with Hoops nodding along, his dark face solemn.

Listening, she could feel those twinges of guilt developing into a full-blown case. Maybe Sully was obnoxious, but he’d clearly won both the respect and affection of these kids.

“So,” Billy finally concluded, “we thought if we explained to you how things was up there, you’d understand why we don’t wanna get shipped off someplace else.”

“Yes…I see,” she murmured, wishing she could assure them there’d be no problem about their staying right where they were. Instead, she said, “Is Mr. Sullivan aware you’ve come to see me?”

The two exchanged a guilty glance, and Billy began twisting the baseball cap he’d whipped off his head when Rosalie had ushered them in.

“Sully doesn’t exactly know we came,” Billy admitted.

“Well how did you get here?”

Hoops cleared his throat. “We hitched.”

A funny feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. For all they were trying to act like adults, these were children, and she couldn’t help imagining what might have happened if the wrong driver had picked them up.

“You hitched,” she said at last. “Does your Mr. Sullivan allow that?”

“No…we’re not supposed to,” Billy admitted. “We’re not supposed to go very far without tellin’ him, either. It’s just that this was important.”

“He mostly always knows where we are,” Hoops added quickly. “It ain’t easy to put nothing over on Sully.”

“Ahh…I see. And if he finds out you came here, what will he do?”

“Well,” Billy said, “I guess that depends.”

“On?”

“Well…Ms. Van Slyke…see, I know me and Hoops aren’t explainin’ this too good. So what we was thinkin’, was maybe you could come back to Eagles Roost with us?”

“Kinda see how it is up there?” Hoops put in. “For yourself?”

“If you did that,” Billy went on, “I don’t think Sully’d be so mad about us comin’ here. He’d see that we helped.”

The boys stood gazing across the wide expanse of her desk, both their expressions pleading for her to go along with their crazy scheme.

“It just don’t seem fair,” Billy pressed, “to cut Sully off without you even havin’ a look.”

“And isn’t that sorta your job?” Hoops added. “To see what you’re getting for your money?”

The question hit Lauren hard. With all there’d been to do during her first months as director, she’d cut any corners she’d felt she could. And not bothering with a personal inspection of Eagles Roost had been one of those corners.

“So?” Billy said. “Are you at least thinkin’ ’bout the idea?”

“Yes, I’m thinking about it,” she said, although she knew that even considering it meant she was having a lapse of sanity. After all, she’d tried to reason with Hunter and failed. There was really nothing more she could do.

But, looking at the boys, all she could think about was that if she didn’t drive them back they’d be hitchhiking again. And this time it could be a psychopath who gave them a lift.

She sighed. She desperately didn’t want to make one of her little errors in judgment here. And the foundation office
was
pretty quiet on Fridays.

The cat had to be fed, of course.
Her
cat, she might as well start calling him. Even though she hadn’t decided on a name, she knew he’d be staying. But Jenny wouldn’t mind popping across the hall and checking on him.

So was there really any reason not to take the afternoon off and drive up to Eagles Roost? She could spend an hour or two there and still not be awfully late getting back. Then, if Jack Sullivan did apply for funding next year, she’d be all set to write an accurate, informed recommendation.

“It’s real nice up there, Ms. Van Slyke,” Billy said. “Kinda like Central Park, but without any joggers or muggers or crazies.”

“Yeah, there’s a million acres,” Hoops added. “And a huge lake and everything.”

“Yes. Hidden Lake. I remember reading that in the file.” She looked out the window, through the pollution-laden haze that was hanging over Madison Avenue. The heat still hadn’t broken; the city still smelled of rotting waste and the seamier side of life. So what could be wrong with getting some fresh country air and doing her job at the same time?

H
ALF ANGRY, HALF WORRIED
, Sully stood staring down the dirt road that led from the clearing to the edge of his property—and thinking the story about what Billy and Hoops were doing was awfully vague. And why hadn’t they mentioned yesterday that someone had offered them a day’s work?
If
it was true.

It seemed awfully suspicious, the way they’d hightailed it out of here before he’d even gotten up this morning. If they didn’t show soon, he decided, he’d have to go looking for them. The only problem would be where to start.

“Perfect,” he finally muttered.

When Roxy looked up at the sound of his voice, he scratched her neck. She enthusiastically began wiggling her big behind against his leg, shoving him backward a couple of inches.

“What?” he asked her. “You think we look too anxious, standing here?”

She gave him another solid bump, so he turned and started back across the clearing in the direction of the lodge, telling himself Billy and Hoops weren’t up to anything they shouldn’t be. But ever since Leroy Korelenko had gotten into trouble, he worried when any of the boys disappeared. Especially when one of them was Billy, who got into more trouble than the rest of his kids combined.

Sully stepped up onto the porch and headed into the lodge, where Freckles and the twins were glued to the television. Grace had let them out of kitchen duty because the Yankees were in Oakland for an afternoon game.

Roxy wandered across the lounge and flopped down beside Terry, her current favorite among the boys. Sully strode over and stopped in front of the television—which started all three kids hollering that he was in their way.

Having gotten their attention, he moved to one side and focused on Freckles. “You’re sure Billy and Hoops didn’t say anything more than you told me?”

Freckles shook his head. “Alls they said was it was a job clearing brush someplace. And that they’d be back in time for dinner.”

“They didn’t say who hired them?”

“Nah, I told you, Sully, they didn’t say.”

“Well the rest of you keep in mind that I like to hear things straight from the horse’s mouth, huh? Because I’m not impressed with the way those two handled this. If you’ve got any reason to go someplace, tell me directly. You all got that?”

The three of them nodded as if the thought of doing anything else would never enter their minds, then got back into the game. He stood watching it with them for a few minutes, but he wasn’t really crazy about TV.

He was a book man—had started reading in prison, when he’d been getting the last of his high school credits, and hadn’t stopped. When your education was nothing to brag about, you could learn a lot from books. Everything from good grammar to art appreciation.

Once the inning ended, he went into the kitchen where Grace was chopping carrots and had Otis peeling potatoes. They hadn’t said anything about the funding since yesterday, but he knew they were still as worried about it as he was, so he wanted to tell them he’d talked to Ben Ludendorf.

North Head’s resident lawyer wasn’t the brightest light in the legal profession, but at the moment he just might be their salvation—their temporary salvation, at any rate.

“The boys get back?” Otis asked, glancing over.

“Not yet.”

“Well, don’t worry about them,” Grace said. “They’ll be along any time now. They may be cutting it close, but they wouldn’t miss the last dinner I’ll be cooking for them in three weeks. Not that you can’t cook, Sully, but…”

He nodded. He could open cans with the best of them, but that hardly put him in Grace’s league.

“Besides,” she went on, “I told them yesterday I was making roast beef tonight, so those two will be here for sure.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, leaning against the counter. “But the reason I came in was to let you know I had an idea for getting some money.”

The couple looked over at him and waited.

“Remember, last fall, some guy had Ben Ludendorf approach me about selling?”

Grace and Otis glanced at each other, then at Sully again. “Sure, I remember,” Otis said, “but if you sold…”

“Sully,” Grace murmured, “you don’t mean you’re thinking of just giving up the program…do you?”

“No, that’s the last thing I’m thinking of.” The relief on their faces almost made him smile. “But that fellow who asked Ben to sound me out wasn’t really interested in buying the lodge itself. Ben said he figured it was too old—that he’d want to tear it down and replace it.”

“Then why on earth was he interested in buying it?” Grace asked.

“Because he wanted a big chunk of secluded land. And Ben said Eagles Roost was exactly the kind of property he’d been looking for. So I figure, if he’s still interested, maybe I can sell him some acreage on the far side of the lake. That would give me more than enough to tide us over until we can get new funding. And with any luck, we’d never even know he was there.”

“Sully,” Otis said slowly, “last fall was a long time ago. Whoever was interested in this place has probably bought somewhere else by now.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But I figured it couldn’t hurt to check. Ben’s going to get back to me as soon as he’s talked to the guy.”

Neither Grace nor Otis looked hopeful, which dampened Sully’s mood considerably. He was just about to tell them that if this idea didn’t pan out he’d think of something else, when Roxy started barking.

A few seconds later, the screen door slammed. A moment after that, the kitchen door burst open and Freckles was standing there, his lower jaw practically on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Sully demanded.

“You guys gotta come see what Billy and Hoops just got drove home in!”

When Sully reached the front of the lodge, he saw it was a silver Mercedes. A two-door coupe with those dark tinted windows that give the occupants total anonymity.

He stepped out onto the porch with Otis and Grace, relieved to see for himself that there’d really been nothing to worry about. Hoops and Billy were fine—Hoops standing beside the car, Billy leaning back in through the open passenger’s door to talk to the driver.

Freckles, with Roxy on his heels, charged down the steps and across the clearing to join the twins. They were standing a couple of yards away from the car, and the way they were staring at it in total awe made Sully smile.

Then he let his gaze detail the Mercedes’s sleek lines, thinking that owning it and hiring child labor didn’t quite compute. Like most guys who drove minivans, he didn’t know exactly what Mercedes-Benz got for its top lines, but he’d guess this baby went for well over a hundred thousand.

“What a beauty, huh?” Otis said.

As Sully nodded, Roxy lumbered over to the car and began curiously sniffing one of the tires, not seeming quite sure what it was. No doubt she’d never smelled such expensive rubber in her life.