Dead for the Money (16 page)

Seamus always tried to be businesslike when hosting with females. It was inevitable that he would see personal things, so he concentrated on keeping his thoughts clinical. When Callie picked out what she considered a conservative outfit, however, he could not remain objective. It looked to him like something Gypsy Rose Lee might have chosen for a publicity photo.

W
HEN
B
RIGGS
BROUGHT
S
CARLET
and Bud home just before nine, he was still wearing his swim trunks from the day before. Briggs had taken him a fresh shirt, since the one he’d been wearing was bloodied beyond saving. Brodie stood back as the rest of them fussed over him. Bud, embarrassed by the attention, kept assuring everyone he was fine. Brodie noticed no one mentioned the visitor from the night before.

Scarlet insisted that the chair the hospital had provided in Bud’s room had been perfectly comfortable for sleeping, and she was rested and ready to return to her responsibilities. “We’ll work inside this morning,” Scarlet told Brodie, “and go outside later, as we planned.” Turning to Bud she explained, “We’re catching spiders, to see how much variety there is in a small area.”

“Sounds great,” he said sarcastically. “If there’s anything I hate, it’s spiders.”

“Be sure to wear bug dope, Brodie,” Arlis ordered. “And a hat. You don’t want to get sunstroke.”

Behind Arlis’ back, Bud actually winked at Scarlet. Brodie saw it and noted Scarlet’s blush. It made her think, especially since she had looked up
machree
on the Internet and learned that it meant something like “beloved” in Irish. Now why had Scarlet called Bud that when he was half-conscious in her arms?

Although Arlis fussed and clucked at him, Bud did not want to lie down. “I’ve been doing that for hours,” he protested. “I’d like to sit in the sun for a while.” Ignoring Arlis’ arguments, Shelley escorted him to the glider Brodie had vacated, and they left him alone. Arlis ordered Shelley to bring him a hat. Apparently sunstroke was rampant these days.

Brodie and Scarlet went upstairs to do lessons. Scarlet felt it would help them to get back to a routine, and Brodie had to admit that doing equations and studying the Crimean War restored a sense of normalcy. She liked knowing stuff and always pictured herself as the characters in history they read about. Scarlet seemed to find at least one woman in every era who knew what she wanted and went after it. Crimea undoubtedly meant Florence Nightingale, but after seeing Bud’s head wound, Brodie was pretty sure nursing was not her destiny.

She was still thinking about yesterday’s disaster an hour later when she was supposed to be listing the causes of the war. Spying on Scarlet through her lashes, she wondered if she and Bud had talked at all during his night in the hospital. Had Bud been pleased to see Scarlet there each time he opened his eyes?

“You were pretty good with the boat yesterday.”

Scarlet smiled, though her eyes remained on the essay she was correcting. “Lots of experience. Although,” she added, “most of my seafaring was done on aging fishing boats.”

“Do you like Bud?”

Scarlet still did not look up, but her voice sounded funny. “I suppose he’s all right.”

“You were scared when he got hurt.”

“Well, of course, silly. We didn’t know how badly he’d cracked his skull.”

“But—” Brodie didn’t know how to express what she was thinking. “It looked like you really cared. Not like ‘Oh, this poor stranger’ but more like—I don’t know.”

Scarlet looked up now, and Brodie saw in her eyes a struggle between truth and falsehood. She had never lied to her, and Brodie felt a lump growing in her chest. This was going to be the first time. Everyone lied. People said how pretty you were and how sweet, but their eyes said differently. People said they would take care of you, but instead they went into the bedroom and shut the door. No one could be trusted except Gramps, and he’d died, leaving her behind. If Scarlet lied, who was left?

“There was a time when Bud might have meant something to me,” Scarlet said, and Brodie felt the lump start to ease. “It was before I met you, and it did not turn out well. When he was hurt, I suppose that feeling came back in the crisis, but I am over it now.”

“You and Bud?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“On Mackinac Island. He was there with your grandfather, though I didn’t realize at the time that they were related. Mr. Dunbar came into the hotel restaurant early each morning. Bud came in later in the day with a group of younger men. I never put them together in my mind.”

“So you and Bud knew each other for one weekend on the Island?”

“Well.” Scarlet’s smile was like La Giaconda’s. “He stayed on after the conference ended.”

“Because of you?” Brodie’s imagination soared as she pictured moonlit walks along the road that circled the island, the scent of lilacs, the sound of ferry horns, a trip to Arch Rock or a carriage ride through the tiny, crowded town.

“I thought he stayed to be with me,” Scarlet said, her eyes averted. “But I was wrong.”

“You saw him with someone else?”

She smiled grimly at Brodie’s quick deduction. “I didn’t, but a friend did. We had planned to meet, you see, and then Bud called and said he couldn’t make it. I thought nothing of it until my roommate reported that he’d left the hotel with a woman.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

“I never got the chance. The next day, he checked out and caught the earliest ferry back to Mackinaw City.”

She thought about that for a while. There was no disaster she was aware of last summer that would have required Bud’s immediate return to Chicago. “So when you took this job, you didn’t know Bud was related to Gramps?”

“No. Your grandfather and I had talked a little. He was interested in where I came from, and he told me about his boyhood in Scotland. But we were never introduced. He was just a customer who came in every morning for breakfast.”

“So you didn’t know about Dunbar Electronics?”

“Bud said business was the last thing he wanted to talk about.” Scarlet pushed her hair back from her face. “Anyway, the night he called to cancel our date, my roommate couldn’t wait to tell me how attractive the woman Bud left with was.”

“Wow.”

Scarlet shifted, as if throwing off an emotion. “Bud never promised me anything. He was funny and sweet and interesting. I guess I put too much stock in the fact that he asked me out that night.”

Brodie tried to picture Bud teasing, Bud laughing, Bud being romantic. All that came to mind was Bud sitting on the glider outside, listening politely to Arlis’ instructions that he not stand up too quickly lest he faint.

“You didn’t try to find him after he left?”

“You have seen too many movies!” Scarlet’s smile was rueful. “Mackinac Island is the perfect place for romances that end when the summer does.”

“So you were surprised when the job offer came?”

Scarlet shrugged. “It was a great chance for me, but the name Dunbar seemed nothing but a coincidence. I knew Bud lived in Chicago, and there are thousands of Dunbars in the world. Arnold was the one who called, saying he worked for an elderly millionaire. He didn’t mention that Mr. Dunbar and I had met.” She gave a little chuckle. “Arnold made it sound like he had located me himself through diligent effort. Anyway, what he told me about Mr. William Dunbar did not sound like the Bud Dunbar I’d met on the island.” She glanced out the window to where Bud sat. “When I arrived and saw pictures of the two of them, I got it.”

“And then it was too late because you were captured by my charming personality.” Brodie heard the sarcasm in her own voice.

“Actually, I
was
captured by you, almost at once.”

“Pity?”

Scarlet leaned toward her. “Brodie, do you really think that?”

It was Brodie’s turn to look away. “I don’t know.”

“Well, then, here’s the truth. I saw a bright, beautiful girl who trusted no one except her beloved grandfather. I hoped I might help her see that the rest of the world isn’t so bad.”

Brodie could think of nothing to say.
Beautiful?

Movement outside the window caught her eye, and Brodie looked out to see a woman teetering down the flagstone pathway on heels that were not only ridiculously high but dangerous on the uneven surface. A closer look and she said to Scarlet, “Bud’s mother is back.”

Scarlet looked for herself. “Oh, my.”

Brodie looked around as if wondering who to tell, but there was no one. Bud was on his own. Callie was his mother, and he had to deal with her.

S
EAMUS
HAD
SELDOM
BEEN
more ready to leave a host than he was by the time Callie Dunbar arrived at the Dunbar home. Self-absorbed and shallow, Callie’s innate cunning combined with a lack of any sense of self-respect made her a formidable force. He wondered if Bud was in any condition to deal with his determined mother.

At ten after ten, Callie pulled carefully into the driveway, stopping far enough back so that Arlis would not hear the car and come out to investigate. Her thoughts on the way over had been about how to get inside the house, but her plotting was made unnecessary by the fact that Bud was down on the beach, sitting on a swinging bench that overlooked the lake.

Seamus heard her thought.
Perfect!
Heels clicking on the stones, she made her way toward her son. Hearing her approach, Bud turned. A bandage covered the shaved patch on his scalp.

“Billy?” Callie began, then switched. “Bud?”

“Mother.” The tone was as flat as Seamus had ever heard.

“I heard about the accident, honey. You might have died out there on the lake when that boom swung around. Are you going to be all right?”

Bud paused, and Seamus wondered what he was thinking. He finally said, “I should have been paying attention, and I wasn’t, that’s all.”

Callie had stopped on the pathway. Seamus felt her nervousness, but it was more about what approach to take than about her son’s condition.

“I came home because I heard about your grandfather. Honey, I’m so sorry.”

Again, Bud paused. “Thank you.”

She shifted her feet, grating sand against the stone. “You don’t seem very glad to see your mother, Bud.”

He smiled grimly. “It’s not that. I’m wondering how much you want this time.”

At Bud’s direct statement, Callie took the offensive. Sitting down beside Bud, she put a hand on his arm. “Buddy, you’re angry because last time I took your gift and left. I get that, but please believe me, I needed that money. I didn’t think you’d understand why, but it was important, and you helped me out more than you can imagine.” She widened her eyes and lowered her chin. “You don’t know what it’s like to be alone and broke.”

“You’ve had plenty of company in the last year. I have a list somewhere, if you’d like to see it.”

Callie bit her lip. Bud was better prepared than she had expected. She adopted an attitude of shocked outrage. “You’ve been snooping into my private life?”

Bud snorted what might have been a laugh. “Not much that you do is private. I know more than I want to know about Callie Dunbar-Michelson-Brannon-Sanders’ activities.”

“It’s Dunbar. Your father was the only man I ever really loved. When he died—” Callie turned her face away, but her shoulder brushed Bud’s lightly.

Bud pulled away, his expression unsympathetic. “Within a month of your last visit, I found your picture in half a dozen newspapers from Dubai. I didn’t even need to translate them into English to get the idea.” His tone turned accusing. “Did I pay for that party you threw for the sheik?”

She smiled in remembrance. “It was a hell of a party, Babe.”

He glared at her coldly. “It’s a game for you, isn’t it, charming wealthy men and living high and wild on their money until it’s gone.”

Callie shrugged. “A certain lifestyle is expected in the circles I travel in.”

“Well, you’ll have to find a way to pay for that lifestyle other than me.”

“But I’m your mother, Buddy.”

His lips pulled into a tight line. “Then why have I only seen you once in the last twenty years? When you asked me for $50,000 last summer, I was shocked at the amount, but it was enough that after all these years, my mother needed me. When you disappeared without even a thank you, I couldn’t believe it. I started researching where you’ve been all these years.”

“I was devastated when your dad died, Buddy. Cancer is a terrible disease, and I needed time to forget. Everything reminded me of it, even you.” Her eyes filled and she leaned toward Bud, who sat as if he were part of the wood of the bench.

“Is that why you sold me to Gramps for two hundred thousand dollars?”

Again she was truthful. “It sounded like a lot of money at the time.”

“And you couldn’t wait to get out from under the responsibility of having a kid.”

She reached out to touch his hand, but Bud did not respond. “I was young, Buddy, not even twenty-five years old. I felt like I’d missed out on life.”

Bud turned a little too quickly and grimaced as a stab of pain reminded him of his head wound. Another wound seemed to hurt more. “You missed out on my life too.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I want to make it up to you. I really do.”

His face turned red, the color rising slowly from the open collar of his shirt. “Don’t you remember saying those same words a year ago on Mackinac Island? I believed you then. I did what you asked. Now I know better.”

“Babe, I admit it was a story. I owed a lot of money. I didn’t think it was wrong to ask my only son for a little help.”

“I gave you everything I had saved.”

“William would have given you lots more if you asked, but he wouldn’t have given me a dime.” She smiled, a little too smugly. “Now you’ve got more money than you’ll ever need.”

His voice was almost a growl. “And my mother has arrived to help me spend it.”

Callie leaned toward him, her voice silky. “Think how embarrassing it would be for you if the world heard that Mrs. William Dunbar II, widowed mother of William C. Dunbar, millionaire, was about to lose everything while her son lives a life of luxury.”