Eye of the Beholder (18 page)

“Sure,” she said quickly.

“But that's not what I wanted to talk about. I heard about what happened last night at the Red Canyon Country Club.”

“I'm beginning to think that there's not a single person left in town who doesn't know that I went out to dinner with Trask.”

“Please believe me when I say that I am speaking up only because I am genuinely concerned. Joanna tells me that Vivien and Lloyd Kenyon are out of town. They may not have told you that there's a history between Trask and Lloyd.”

Alexa angled her chin. “I'm well aware of what happened twelve years ago. I don't want to discuss it.”

Webster made a face. “I guess that puts me in I my place.”

“I'm sorry. I don't wish to be rude, but I really don't think that there's anything to be gained by rehashing old gossip.”

“I could not agree with you more, Alexa. Gossip is, generally speaking, an extremely negative force.
What worries me is that Trask may have returned to Avalon to reopen the past. It's possible he believes that he can use you to accomplish his ends.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Alexa said stiffly.

“But it's none of my business, right?” Webster gave her an oblique smile. “All right, I'll shut up about it. But please allow me to pass along an ancient bit of metaphysical wisdom.”

“What's that?”

Webster leaned in very close and lowered his voice. “Watch your ass around Trask.”

He straightened quickly. Ignoring Alexa's widened eyes, he raised a hand in casual farewell to Dylan. Then, with a wink, he walked out the door.

Alexa managed to get her mouth closed. She waited until Dylan's customers had left before she carried her copy of
Living the Dimensions Way
to the counter.

“Don't tell me, let me guess.” Dylan gave her a meaningful look as he took the book from her hand. “Webster gave out a little fatherly advice?”

“How did you know?”

“Get real.” He punched in the numbers on the cash register. “Everyone knows about you and Trask at the country club last night. And about the fight between Guthrie and Trask later.”

“There was no fight. Trask chased off a couple of would-be muggers and had a few words with Guthrie. That was all there was to it.” She wondered how many more times she would have to tell the story.

“Whatever you say.” Dylan gave her an assessing glance. “For what it's worth, my advice would be to steer clear of Trask.”

“I seem to be
getting that advice a lot today.” Alexa hesitated. “Dylan, were you living here in Avalon twelve years ago?”

“Sure was.” Dylan slipped the book into a paper sack. “I ran the bookshop up at the Institute in those days.”

“No kidding? You worked for Webster Bell?”

“What's so strange about that? Until the resort opened, Dimensions was always the largest employer in Avalon.” Dylan set the sack aside and folded his elbows on the counter. “It was Webster who encouraged me to open Spheres a few years ago. He urged me to stretch and grow both personally and professionally. I'll always be grateful to him.”

“He seems nice enough, and I'm fond of Joanna, but I've got to admit that I've been put off by the guru thing. Career-wise it's a little too close to televangelism and carnival huckstering for my taste.”

Dylan smiled. “There's always been a lot of the phony stuff going around because there's money involved in metaphysics. But with Bell it's the real thing. People respond to him. You saw some of the folks who came to buy his book today. He can touch them. He makes a difference in their lives.”

“Joanna tells me that the retreat here in Avalon has been so successful, Webster's going to open another one near Santa Fe.”

“It's true.” Dylan contemplated the shady scene out in front of his shop. “The man's got a mission. Since his wife died twenty years ago he's focused all of his attention on his message.”

“He never remarried?”

“No.”

“Joanna's not married, either,” Alexa said. “Doesn't that strike you as a little weird?”

“I don't think there's room in Webster's life for a wife,” Dylan said. “And as for Joanna, she hasn't
shown any interest in marriage since Harry Trask died.”

“She and Webster seem to have a very close relationship.”

Dylan nodded. “The only time I've ever heard them argue was when Joanna told Webster that she was going to marry Harry Trask.”

Alexa looked at him, surprised. “Webster was against the marriage?”

“From day one.”

“Any idea why?”

Dylan shrugged. “Joanna never said much, but it was obvious that Webster wanted to protect her. He was probably afraid that Harry Trask was after her money.”

“From what I hear,” said a familiar dour voice, “Webster had good reason to be concerned. Folks who knew him say that Harry Trask had a reputation for dreaming up big, expensive ideas that never quite worked out.”

Alexa turned and saw Stewart Lutton standing in the doorway. She smiled.

Stewart did not return the smile. She did not take it personally. Stewart never smiled. It wouldn't have suited his intense image. Alexa had occasionally been tempted to ask him where and when he had acquired the tattoos that decorated his arms and shoulders, but she'd never quite worked up the guts to inquire.

Stewart's personal artwork was on display most
of the time because he wore the same style of clothing virtually every day of the year. Rain or shine, hot days or cool ones, he could be counted on to show up at Café Solstice in a tank top with a motorcycle emblazoned on the front, and pair of cargo shorts and sandals. He kept his long, graying hair out of his eyes with a length of fabric wrapped around his forehead to form a headband.

The only bright spot in Stewart's attire was the Dimensions bracelet on his left wrist. No one at Avalon Plaza knew much about Stewart, but everyone acknowledged that when it came to blending and brewing teas, he was a true artist.

“I was on my way down to Café Solstice when Dylan, here, dragged me into his shop and made me buy a book,” Alexa said.

“Hey, don't blame me.” Dylan gave her a beatific smile. “Must have been the power of the energy vortices under my shop.”

“Yeah, right.” Alexa turned back to Stewart. “So you think Webster had a reason to worry about Joanna losing her inheritance?”

“Everyone around here pretty much agrees that Harry Trask would have squandered it.” Stewart's eyes narrowed. “That would have been wrong.”

Alexa thought about it. “Joanna's an intelligent woman. She probably could have handled her own money.”

Stewart's expression darkened. “Even if that was true, the money would have been lost to Dimensions.”

Alexa stared at him as the facts clicked into place. “Are you saying that Joanna invested in Dimensions?”

“Didn't you know that?”
Dylan glanced at her in surprise. “Who do you think provided the seed money to get the retreat and the seminar building off the ground? No bank would touch Webster at the time.”

Stewart looked at Alexa. “And who do you think is helping him finance the new retreat in Santa Fe?”

“Joanna?”

Stewart nodded. “She's always been there to help finance Bell's work. Without her, his message would never have reached beyond a handful of people.”

Dylan shrugged. “She's not the only investor involved, of course, but she's a major one. Back at the beginning, her money was particularly crucial. And it's vital again now because of the Santa Fe project.”

“I see,” Alexa said.

Dylan looked down at his hands for a moment. When he looked up there was concern in his light blue eyes. “I know this is none of my business, but about your dinner with Trask last night…”

“You're right, Dylan,” she said gently. “It's none of your business.”

His pale skin flushed a dull red. “Sorry.”

Now she'd embarrassed him. She smiled to erase the sting. “I know you mean well. But don't worry about me, Dylan. I can take care of myself.”

“Sure.” Dylan gave her a rueful grin. “Didn't mean to play big brother. It's just that, well, this business of Trask coming back to Avalon doesn't feel right somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

“He means,” Stewart said in ominous tones, “that it feels like there's going to be trouble. Stay
away from Trask or you might get caught up in whatever bad energy is going down here in Avalon.”

Alexa stared at him. “You're serious, aren't you?”

“Stewart's always serious, you know that.” Dylan said dryly. “And he has strong feelings about Dimensions, don't you, Stewart?”

A fervent gleam appeared in Stewart's eyes. “Dimensions changed my life.”

“Right.” Dylan made a face as he turned back to Alexa. “But enough of the melodrama. Let's get to the important stuff.”

“Which would be?” Alexa asked politely.

He rolled his eyes. “Don't act dense. It doesn't suit you. Obviously what everyone in town really wants to know is whether or not the rumors are true.”

Alexa vowed to stand her ground as long as possible. “What rumors?”

He grinned. “Did you and Trask really engage in a wild orgy in the spa at the new Avalon resort last night?”

“Beats me,” Alexa murmured. “It's been so long since my last orgy that I've forgotten what one looks like.”

At five o'clock that afternoon a large, dark shadow fell across the model of Stonehenge displayed in Alexa's front window. She paused in the act of turning over the
closed
sign and looked out at the trellised sidewalk.

Trask stood there. In spite of all her best intentions she felt butterflies flutter in the pit of her stomach. He watched as she finished flipping the sign.
Then he walked through the open door into the shop.

“Can I assume that you spent your day the same way I did?” he asked without preamble.

“That depends.” Alexa put the sales counter between them. For some obscure reason the bulwark gave her confidence. “How did you spend yours?”

“Getting warned off.”

“What a coincidence. That's exactly how I spent mine.”

He nodded. “For the record, how many people took the trouble to tell you that they'd heard about the brawl in the parking lot and the orgy in the spa and that it might not be a good idea for you to date me?”

She leaned on the counter, held up one hand, and began to tick off her fingers. “Let me see, if you count the obscene phone call that I got last night…”

His brows climbed. “You got a call?”

“Some jerk stopped at one of the local convenience stores long enough to call me up and tell me that the dark vortices have been aroused.”

“Aroused, huh?”

She beetled her brows at him. “Don't start. As I was saying, if you count the phone call, I guess the number of warnings I got would hover somewhere in the range of half a dozen.”

He wandered over to a large tapestry that featured a unicorn and a lady dressed in medieval garb. “How do you generally respond to that kind of thing?”

“Getting warned off?” She sighed. “I realize
everyone means well. But on the whole, I would have to say it annoys me.”

“Yeah. Me, too. The implication seems to be that one of us is a slave to passion and the other is a manipulative seducer who will not scruple to use sex to achieve his or her ends.”

She cleared her throat. “Have you detected a consensus concerning which one of us is the slave to passion and which one is the unscrupulous seducer?”

“The betting at the moment is that you're passion's slave. I've got the other role.”

“Darn. I was afraid of that. It's not fair.”

He continued to contemplate the tapestry. “You don't care for the slave-to-passion part?”

“Strikes me as an insult to my intelligence.”

“There is that.” He turned away from the maiden and the unicorn scene to meet her eyes. “So, you want to go out to dinner again tonight and discuss the subject of who gets to play which role?”

She drummed her fingers on the counter. “Might be better if we stuck to discussing our business arrangement.”

“Is that how you see our relationship?” He gave her an inquisitive look. “As a business arrangement?”

Think: wild woman.
“That's what it is, isn't it?”

He was silent for a couple of counts.

“I guess, when you get right down to it,” he said, “that pretty much describes it.”

She was in control, she told herself. No problem. Obviously, the more risks you took, the better you got at it. She straightened briskly away from the counter.

“Dinner sounds fine. My place. I'd like some privacy, and I don't think we'll
get it at any restaurant in town.”

He gave her a knowing look. “Also, you want to be on your own turf this time, right?”

“Yes.” She gave him a bright smile that she hoped made it clear that she really was in control. “I want to be on my own turf this time.”

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