Sentimental Journey (6 page)

"Do you have the best now?" Jessica had difficulty meeting his look.

"Not in everything, but I'm working on it." He crushed out his cigarette. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes." She pushed her malt aside. It had thinned out to a milky consistency.

Outside in the car, Brodie started the engine. "Would you like to go for a short drive?"

Jessica was tempted to ask their destination but decided against it. The question would have mirrored her distrust, something she preferred to conceal.

"That sounds fine," she agreed instead.

Once they were in the mainstream of traffic, Brodie punched a tape into the stereo tape deck built into the dash. A delicate symphony of strings came from the concealed speakers. He cast her a sideways look.

"I hope you don't object to classical music. I've discovered it's soothing, though I don't pretend to understand the finer techniques of its composition."

"I don't mind. Leave it on."

It had been years since she had listened to a symphonic orchestration, probably not since music class in school, but Jessica found that Brodie was right. The music was quieting and it eliminated the need for conversation—which was a recommendation in itself. She relaxed against the molding backrest of the cushioned passenger seat and listened, watching the blur of passing streetlights.

For a time she kept track of where they were until at some point she lost her sense of direction. It didn't seem really important that she know precisely their whereabouts. There were people and other cars around, homes and businesses. She supposed Brodie was simply taking a tour of the city by night. She closed her eyes for a serene moment, then opened them to study the upholstered ceiling of the car's interior.

The signal blinked in the car to indicate that he was turning onto another street, but Jessica didn't glance out of the window to see where they were going. She was intent on the intricacies of a piano solo coming from the stereo. The car turned again, this time onto a rough surface that bounced her back into an interest in her surroundings.

Brodie was stopping the car in a deserted lot. The nearest building seemed to be some kind of a warehouse. Beyond it, the night's darkness cast eerie shadows on more peculiar-looking objects. Jessica looked back to the empty road. On the other side, a patch of moonlight glittered on water.

Immediately she cast a wary look in Brodie's direction. The darkness shadowed his face, as well, not that she thought his expression would have told her anything. But she didn't need to see to feel his eyes watching her.

"Where are we?" she asked with an attempt at calm. "Is this the place where you used to park with your dates?"

"No, I couldn't afford the gasoline to drive this far." He turned and for a minute his profile was etched by the moonlight. "It would have been a good place, though, private with the moon reflected in the lake."

"Lake?" Was that body of water Lake Chickamauga or the Tennessee River?

"Yes, Lake Chickamauga," Brodie confirmed.

"What are we doing here?" If he wasn't revisiting one of his old haunts, then what was his reason for coming here? Jessica felt her heartbeat accelerate in uncertain alarm.

"There's something I want to show you."

With that, he opened his car door and stepped outside. When his door closed, Jessica remained rooted to her seat. She had no idea what he intended to show her and cared even less. Danger signals were ringing in her ears. She hated to admit she was frightened, but she was. After all, he was virtually a stranger.

Her car door was opened and Brodie's hand was extended to help her out. She stared at it, swallowing hard.

"Come on," he urged.

"Where?"

His throaty chuckle did little to ease her mounting fear.

Chapter Four

"I'M GLAD YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY," Jessica declared in a burst of irritation.

"Earlier you asked why I'd come back to Chattanooga. I told you only the major reason. I decided to show you the contributing factor. Do you want to see it?" It was a challenge.

All her instincts cried a refusal, but Jessica couldn't show cowardice. Reluctantly she placed her hand in his and stepped from the car.

They had walked several feet toward the darkened building when a voice called out, "The place is closed. You'll have to come back tomorrow during regular business hours."

"You're Art Mason, the security guard, aren't you?" Brodie questioned.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Brodie Hayes. I met you late this afternoon. I want to show the young lady around the place,"
he stated in a voice that expected his wishes to be granted.

"Sorry, Mr. Hayes," the voice answered immediately. "I didn't recognize you, what with it being so dark and all."

"That's one of the first changes I'm going to make, Mr. Mason," Brodie walked forward, his hand on her waist drawing Jessica along with him. "We're going to have more adequate lighting for the nighttime."

Changes? Had he bought the place? What was it? Jessica stole a glance at his face, but it told her nothing. She could only surmise that her guess was accurate.

A uniformed man in his fifties emerged from the shadow of the building. "That sure will be a welcome change, Mr. Hayes. As it is now, a man's got to have cat's eyes to be able to see anything."

Keys rattled on a metal ring as he bent to unlock the front door. He opened it for them and touched the bill of his cap when Jessica walked past him.

"There's a light switch just inside the door on the left wall, Mr. Hayes," the guard instructed, and shone his flashlight into the building.

Except for that stream of light, it was pitch-black inside the building. The squeezing pressure from Brodie's hand instructed Jessica to stand still, and she waited in the inky blackness until a click illuminated the interior, momentarily blinding her. Then he was by her side again, taking her arm.

"Thank you, Mr. Mason."

"When you leave, just honk your horn and I'll know to lock up," the man said, and closed the door.

A series of offices were in the front of the building. Brodie bypassed them to lead Jessica down the hallway to the rear section. She looked around for something that would identify the business.

"Is this your new restoration project?" she asked.

"Officially it will be at nine o'clock tomorrow morning when I sign the final purchase agreement," he told her.

"Forgive me for being so ignorant, but what is this place?"

"Have you heard of Janson Boats?" Brodie opened a door to a blackened area. "Stay there a minute until I find the light switch," he added without giving her a chance to answer his first question.

Jessica waited. "Janson Boats?" She frowned while he disappeared into the shadows. "I think one of our clients was just talking about the company not too long ago. They manufacture houseboats, don't they?"

"That's right." A light was switched on to light up a massive assembly room with large square-shaped boats in various stages of construction.

"The Janson family started it and sold out about five years ago," Jessica recalled aloud what she had heard. "Our client was a friend of the Janson's. He was saying they were lucky to get out when they did because the company has been steadily going downhill."

"Janson had a thriving business when he sold it. The new owners traded on the reputation he'd established. They began cutting corners, constructing inferior boats and charging higher prices. They siphoned every dime they could out of the company and into their own pockets. Now that they've skimmed off the cream, they've decided to unload the company and take what they can get."

Brodie was wandering through the assembly room. Jessica followed, picking her way through the debris scattered about the floor, dodging ladders and assorted equipment. The framework skeleton of a boat loomed beside them, and Brodie stopped to examine it.

"Do you know anything about building boats?" She eyed him curiously.

"Not a single thing, except maybe the bow from the stern," he admitted.

Jessica frowned. "Then how will you ever make it a successful concern again?"

Brodie glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled dryly. "That's the ten percent I can buy—money for the man who knows how to build boats."

"But who will you hire?" She wasn't convinced it was as easy as he was implying.

"When I heard the company was in trouble, I nosed around. It seems Janson isn't enjoying his retirement. What's more, he's upset at the way his name has been damaged by the company's practice. I talked to him yesterday and offered him a position as president of Janson Boats, and he accepted."

"Why?"

"Because he wants to work and he wants to see the company become successful again," Brodie explained with commendable patience.

"If that's true, then why didn't he buy the company? Didn't he have the money to buy it?" It didn't make sense to Jessica that a man would go to work for a company that he could own instead.

"Yes, Janson had the money to buy it. But he's getting on in age and liked the idea that he had a nest egg securely tucked away for his old age. He didn't want to risk it in case he couldn't get the company back on its feet again," Brodie explained, as if it were all very logical.

"But you're risking it," she reminded him.

"I don't have anything to lose," he said with a shrug.

"Your money," Jessica pointed out.

"I can afford the loss," he replied with a diffidence that implied just how successful he was.

Jessica fell silent while she absorbed that discovery. Brodie resumed his wandering inspection of the plant area. He was several yards ahead of her before she realized he had moved away. She hurried to catch up with him, unsure whether she could find her way out of this maze alone.

"This will make a very good publicity story for you," she commented.

"What?" He half turned, then agreed, "Yes, the news that Janson is taking over will be good publicity. That fact alone will increase business in the beginning."

"I wasn't thinking of Janson, although it would be good, too. I was referring to you," Jessica explained.

"Me." Brodie paused to measure her with a look. "The boy from the wrong side of town comes home a success, is that how you see it? A Cinderella story in reverse?"

"Something like that," she admitted. "Is that wrong?"

"No, probably not, except that I'm not interested in publicity for myself." The pathway had widened, much of the rubble cleared to one side, enabling them to walk together.

"Why not? It would open a lot of doors for you." Jessica wondered if he was still as eager to be accepted as he once had been.

"Doors that were closed to me before, you mean?" Brodie mocked. "No, thanks. I prefer to open my own doors in my own way."

"That's being stubborn."

"Yes, it is. But I won't be walking into places where I haven't knocked." Brodie pushed back the sleeve of his sweater to check the gold watch on his wrist. "It's getting late and I know you have to work in the morning. Would you like me to take you home now?"

Jessica glanced at her own watch, surprised to see it was much later than she realized. "Yes, please. I just hope you know how to get out of here."

"Through that door." He pointed to his right and Jessica realized they had made a full circle of the assembly room.

She waited in the hallway while he switched off the light, and together they walked to the front entrance. The night watchman wasn't in sight as they closed the door and returned to the car. At the honk of the horn, he appeared and waved his flashlight beam at them before Brodie drove out of the lot onto the street.

The drive back to her apartment complex seemed to take little time, possibly because Jessica spent it thinking about the man behind the wheel and how much she had learned about him in one short evening. There was much more about him that attracted rather than repelled. Yet she still felt a wariness that she couldn't explain. Something cautioned her not to attempt to begin a relationship with him.

They were only a few blocks from her apartment when she felt the need to break the silence. "Do your parents still live here?"
 

"My father died ten years ago."

Ten years ago, Jessica thought. That was before Brodie achieved his success. She wondered if it bothered him that his father had never lived to see how far he had progressed, but decided the question was too personal.

"I didn't know. I'm sorry," she offered in sympathy.

"There isn't any reason why you should have known about it. You didn't know him," Brodie stated in an unemotional tone.

"No, I didn't know him," Jessica admitted, and fell silent.

"There was something else you wanted to ask me, wasn't there?" He slid a sideways look at her. Jessica nibbled at her lower lip, but didn't answer. "You were wondering about my mother." She caught her breath, stunned that he had guessed so accurately. "I don't know where she is. She and my father were divorced when I was two. An attorney tried to locate her when my father died, but he couldn't find her."