Defy the World Tomatoes (18 page)

Darcy hoped Christy Joy would see things differently tomorrow, but she was sadly afraid he was right. “I’ll walk you back to your boat.”

“Better watch out,” he warned as he turned away. “No telling what people might be saying about me tomorrow.”

Darcy fell in step beside him. She’d been so relieved to find Twink riding on his shoulders, but his dark prediction only served to reinforce her own guilt. “Look, I’m the one who should feel bad here. I didn’t even notice Twink had disappeared until Christy Joy came looking for her.”

“Somehow that isn’t much consolation,” Jeremy murmured under his breath.

The cool breeze off the bay chilled Darcy clear through, but when they reached his boat, she accepted his offer of a cup of coffee, then remained on board the
Great Escape
until she’d finished the last drop. She was ashamed of herself for asking to use the head so she could check out his bunk, but she was enormously relieved when the only evidence the blanket bore was a faint indentation left by a little girl’s shoes.

Once home, Darcy slid down on the floor with her back braced against the sofa and hugged her knees. When she’d been a freshman in high school, four of the most popular seniors had been killed after a football game when their speeding car had flipped over rounding a curve. It had been a senseless loss, but it had served to warn the whole student body of how quickly tragedy could overtake them.

More than a dozen years had passed since then, but forever seventeen, the dead were frozen in her memory. They would have been laughing, singing along with taped music, never suspecting they wouldn’t return home.

Twink had come home, though. The afternoon’s whole frantic ordeal had been resolved in under an hour, but Darcy was still too badly frightened to relax. Twink could have been kidnapped, hit by a car or, making her way along the boats unnoticed, simply fallen from a dock and drowned.

They’d all been extremely lucky that day. No, blessed, she thought, but there was no relief in Twink’s safe return. If only she’d watched Twink more carefully, then the whole terrifying episode would never have occurred. But had she never given Twink more than a bit of scattered conversation as she played in the nursery? she agonized.

Today’s near-tragedy had simply been waiting to happen. They’d all been preoccupied, or shamefully careless, and dear little Twink could have been lost forever. Christy Joy would never have spoken to her again, and their ties to a thriving business would have been severed by blame and guilt.

Too unhappy to rise, Darcy remained seated on the floor until she was cold and stiff, but once in bed, she was too tense to sleep. The sunlit dawn brought plenty of tourists into Defy the World, but not a glimmer of peace.

Griffin debated calling Darcy Saturday afternoon, but, thinking that she would be busy selling cacti to tourists, he decided against it. Instead, he left a brief message on her voice mail, then closed his mind to all forms of distraction and focused on the evening’s program.

Once it had begun, it was an effort to devote the necessary enthusiasm to the pieces he’d mastered years ago, but he strove to imbue them with fresh energy. When the concert was yet another triumph, he softly announced his intention to play the composition he’d debuted in Seattle. He heard a faint murmur roll through the crowd, but the audience quickly fell silent and listened in rapt awe until he’d gently tapped the final note.

He bowed through the deafening applause, but the person who mattered most was a half-continent away, and the concert hall’s wide stage was a lonely place indeed.

Steeling himself to endure the reception with forced charm, he was badly embarrassed to discover his publicity photograph had been enlarged to cover half a wall. It was a handsome portrait, but he wanted attention focused on his music, not his movie star good-looks. He accepted a glass of champagne and nodded as though he were actually listening to the effusive compliments of the patrons who surrounded him, but he frequently glanced at his watch and counted the hours until his flight left for home.

Then a tall, slender brunette approached him on stiletto heels. Clothed in an elegantly cut black satin gown, she possessed a runway model’s rolling gait. Her inky hair was pulled back in a chignon, and she reminded him of the line of guitar-strumming women in Robert Palmer’s videos. He smiled at that thought and watched her mistake his expression for an invitation to move close.

“Your music is magnificent,” she announced in the fluid French of a native.

“
Merci
,” Griffin responded, and their conversation continued in French, effectively excluding the others gathered close by.

“I am Adriana LeMer, and I have a wealthy friend who wishes to engage you for a private performance,” she confided softly. “He owns a magnificent chateau near Paris which boasts a piano worthy of your talent. How soon will you be available?” She cocked her head and leaned in to hear his reply.

It was not an infrequent request, but even when delivered with the haunting scent of expensive perfume, Griffin had no wish to oblige. “Unfortunately, my concert schedule is too full to permit a trip to Paris at present,” he apologized.

She plucked a card from her low-cut bodice and slipped it into his breast pocket. “I think you will make the time for a million dollars. Let us know when you will arrive, and your plane will be met.”

She turned away and disappeared into the crowd before Griffin could respond, but the brief encounter had been strangely unsettling. The world was filled with men who could afford to pay such extravagant sums to hear him play for an hour or two, and it was not unusual for such requests to come following a concert. Still, he was a man who relied upon his instincts, and he recoiled with a sickening dread as he withdrew her card from his pocket.

It held only a name, Simon Jordan, and a telephone number with a Paris prefix. He’d never heard of the man, but he suspected that Interpol would have. He was no longer excited by international intrigues, but others might find Jordan’s offer sufficiently interesting to merit an investigation.

He took another sip of champagne and, after shoving the card back into his pocket, he wished an already too long evening would soon end.

Sunday evening, Griffin came through the nursery gate seconds before George locked it. He was carrying a bag from the Emperor’s Palace and grinned at Darcy. “I sure hope you can leave now, because I haven’t eaten all day, and if I have to hang around here, I’m liable to start nibbling the plants.”

Darcy had been anticipating his return with as much dread as excitement. Now that he was here, she licked her lips and forced a shaky smile. “I’m all set.” She wished George a good night, and he waved to them on his way out.

As soon as they passed through the back gate, Griffin pulled Darcy into his arms, hugged her tightly and lifted her off her feet. “The mermaid is almost as adorable as you are. Did you pose for her?”

“No,” she exclaimed, doubting there was any resemblance between them. “But I’m glad you like her.”

“I love her and, while I’d insisted upon a fountain, it was a nice surprise to find it all finished. It’s proof you must have thought of me a time or two while I was away.”

Darcy returned his eager kisses with a trembling enthusiasm and took his hand as they walked the short distance to her house. Her emotions had been in such awful turmoil since Friday, she had to blink back tears. She’d convinced herself she would surely regain her equilibrium once he returned, but her chest was still painfully tight.

She ushered him inside her home and quickly busied herself setting the table. “Were you as pleased by the concert as the audience?” she asked.

Griffin laughed as he took the small cartons from the bag and opened them to find the walnut shrimp. “Not nearly, but then I hear myself play every day. They liked the new piece, though, and that made the trip worthwhile.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask about the chauffeur.”

“He wasn’t a new contact, just a limo driver who wore cheap cologne.”

Darcy slipped into her chair in time to glimpse a preoccupied frown cross his brow. “But still you look worried. Tell me what really happened.”

Griffin shrugged, sat and spooned a generous helping of walnut shrimp onto her plate. “Well, there was one rather peculiar incident at the reception following the concert.”

Darcy speared a shrimp, but couldn’t seem to guide the fork to her lips. “Peculiar in what way?”

“A woman approached me. She was the kind anyone would notice in a crowd, but she was a little too perfect.”

Fearing the worst, Darcy forced herself to make eye contact. “Are you trying to tell me that you slept with her?”

“No! I wasn’t even tempted.” Griffin leaned over and kissed her soundly. He summarized his brief conversation with Adriana LeMer, then began to eat.

“A million dollars is a staggering sum to refuse,” Darcy exclaimed. “Do you ever play for private parties?”

“Sure. I’ve played for you, haven’t I?” He winked at her.

“Yes, but if you send me a bill for a million dollars, I’ll not pay.”

“You needn’t worry. But there was something about Ms. LeMer that was definitely off. I’ll pass the card she gave me along to Interpol, but it’s probably nothing more sinister than some rich music lover’s extravagant whim. Now, what happened here while I was away?”

She didn’t even know where to begin and, while she was still toying with the shrimp, she’d yet to taste it. In fact, she hadn’t been able to eat much of anything in the last couple of days. She hadn’t slept well either, and only a skillful application of makeup kept her resulting fatigue from being glaringly obvious.

The kettle began to whistle, and she excused herself to make their tea. She’d actually rehearsed a story to describe the Twink disaster, but that she couldn’t shake her initial panic seemed absurd.

Her hands shook as she carried the mugs to the table. Griffin was serving the broccoli beef, but she doubted she could eat it either. “Nothing much happened,” she lied. “It was another good weekend for us.”

Griffin took a sip of tea. “What did Christy Joy say about the building I mentioned?”

She was grateful he’d changed the subject and added a piece of broccoli to the shrimp on her fork. “She wasn’t pleased with the site either, and for exactly the same reasons. It’s too large, the location is terrible, and it’s probably too expensive, to boot.”

“So she wants to keep looking?”

Her nerves raw, she blurted the truth. “No, she’s pressuring me to convince you to let us stay where we are.”

Annoyed, Griffin leaned back in his chair. “We’ve already been over that argument. The answer’s no. Now I know you love walnut shrimp. Why aren’t you eating?”

Darcy looked away. The table sat beside a window, but it was already too dark to see more than deep shadows outside. She refused to offer lame excuses for her lack of appetite, but if the weekend were any sample of what their life was likely to be, and she was positive it had been, then she would always have to handle the occasional crisis alone.

If it had been their child who was lost, no matter how briefly, would he be furious with her?

Since Friday, Christy Joy had been decidedly cool to her, and when her thoughts were as tangled as her emotions, she didn’t need the additional burden of her partner’s disdain. She gave up all hope of feigning an appetite and laid her fork across her plate.

“You’re both making impossible demands on me,” she complained, “and it’s damned uncomfortable being stuck here in the middle.”

“Somehow, I didn’t think discomfort was the effect I had on you.”

A teasing light glowed in his dark eyes, but she was in no mood to be cajoled out of her pain. “I understand you have an extraordinary talent, and you owe it to the world to perform, but it’s difficult being left behind where anything might go wrong.”

“I asked you to come with me. You wouldn’t have had to sit in the hotel while I rehearsed either. Chicago is filled with interesting places to visit, museums and
—
”

“Yes, I’m sure it is, but that’s not really the issue.”

Griffin studied her downcast expression a long moment. “If the real problem is that you’re already sick of me, then just say so. I can take it.”

“No, it isn’t that at all,” Darcy cried. She wished he would pull her into his arms and hold her until she felt safe again, but she shrank down into herself, sending an unspoken message that she would rather not be touched.

“I wasn’t gone that long, and I did call you,” Griffin reminded her softly.

“Yes, thank you. That was very thoughtful of you.”

“Thoughtful? You make it sound as though I were some distant cousin who calls occasionally to inquire about your health.”

Darcy just shook her head. “I don’t want to argue.”

“Good, neither do I, but I don’t know what the hell we’re talking about here. Maybe I should just go home and when you feel like talking, you can give me a call.”

Darcy nodded numbly. “Take the food, please. I won’t be able to eat it.”

“Then toss it out,” Griffin responded as he rose from his chair. He leaned down to brush her cheek with a kiss, then paused on his way to the door. “Did you file a request for a passport?”