Summer on the Cape (12 page)

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” He was still glaring but she could see that he’d gotten himself under control.

“Well, I shouldn’t say yes, Zach, but the truth is, I have some questions of my own.” She started to walk down Madison Avenue with Zach striding along beside her.

“Okay,” he said. “You go first. What’s your question?”

“Well, Zach, I was surprised when Adam told me you wanted to buy that particular painting. Just why did you want it?”

He looked sideways at her, but her head was turned forward and she didn’t see his glance. He paused first to enjoy the sunlight’s glow in her hair, then he did a slow scan, from the thin shoulder straps of her white cotton dress, bright with yellow flowers, down the fitted top and on to the little flared skirt, not stopping till he reached her feet, bare as usual, in fragile sandals, taking quick steps along the pavement. Despite himself, despite his firm resolve to keep himself at a safe emotional distance from her, Zach couldn’t stop his imagination from running a stroking finger along those naked toes.

“Let’s just say,” he said as they reached the corner of 69th Street and turned into the quiet side street, “I bought it because I think it’s going to turn out to be a good investment.”

“I’m glad to hear that, of course.” She couldn’t help being pleased by the vote of confidence. “I guess the next question is yours.”

He was momentarily distracted by the irregular pattern of sunlight and shadow passing over her face and through her golden hair as they walked beneath the trees. It was hard enough, keeping his mind on his reason for coming down to the gallery to see her today. His real questions couldn’t be asked anyway and the look of her in the sunlight of this beautiful day was driving him crazy, sending his mind off in fourteen directions at once.

Ah, hell
, he thought.
There’s no way I can ask her if she’s really just a client of Adam’s, or is there something more personal between them? If she were my client, I wouldn’t be able to leave it at that. Damn it!

With an effort, he managed to control his tongue, but not the anger that lay buried in his words. His question lashed at Allie.

“I want to know what Adam’s told you. I want you to tell me how much you know about this project of his.”

“First of all”—Allie resented his demanding tone, and she snapped back at him—“I know that what he told me is confidential. I don’t see why I’m supposed to talk to you about it.”

She was about to turn on her heel and leave him flat, standing there on the street, but at that moment, Zach stopped in front of an ornately carved door, painted black, with a monogram logo engraved on a brass plaque near the top.

“We’re here,” he said. As he opened the door and motioned her inside, he added, “Don’t get so mad, Allie. Let’s have a nice lunch and try to behave like grown-ups.”

She hesitated on the threshold. Other than the plaque, there was nothing outside to indicate what lay behind the door.

“What is this place?” She thought she’d already scouted out most of the city’s interesting locations. “I’ve never noticed it before.”

“It’s the Rensselaer Yacht Club. I’m not surprised you never noticed it. It’s well over a hundred years old, but no one seems to pay much attention to it. I think that’s the way the members want it.”

The prospect of entering this very exclusive bastion of wealth and privilege put her instantly on her guard, fearful of its rejecting cold shoulder. A chill blew over her, like ghosts of childhood cruelties never really buried, of wounds never really healed, of hardship and loneliness, all left over from those early years.

“But don’t you have to be a member to have lunch here?”

He could not be aware of her uneasiness. “Of course,” he said, leading her through the door. “That’s why I picked it. The food’s not so great, but it’s never crowded and we’ll have a chance to talk.” They had passed into a tiny vestibule and climbed the few steps to the main floor.

At a desk near the front, an elderly gentleman looked up from a register in front of him. He was obviously surprised to see them. “Mr. Eliot! It’s so good to see you here. It’s been quite a long time.”

“Thank you, Max. Yes, it has been a while.” Zach leaned over to sign the register. “We’ll be having lunch today.”

“Of course, Mr. Eliot.” He paused as his quick eye took in Allie’s slim form and her youthful good looks. With a gracious smile that clearly included Allie, he repeated, “It really is good to see you here again.” Allie noted a particular sincerity in his words as he emphasized his pleasure in seeing Zach. There was also kindliness to his tone that took the edge off Allie’s wariness and made her feel that perhaps she wasn’t really risking a social snub.

Zach nodded to Max and then led Allie through a large, comfortable, wood-paneled club room. There were leather chairs and couches and big tables with magazines and newspapers on them and in one of the chairs, near a tall window, an elderly man was reading a newspaper. On the wall there were photographs and paintings of sailing ships, and a display case against the wall held trophy cups and platters.

As they passed through the club room, Allie’s eye was caught by the pictures on the wall.

When this lunch is over, Zach and I will probably no longer be speaking to each other.

She decided not to lose this opportunity she’d likely never have again.

“Do you mind, Zach, if we take just a minute in here? I’d like to look at some of these old paintings.”

Zach’s gesture was a bit impatient, but he understood her interest and he indicated that he was willing to wait while she looked around. She moved from picture to picture, as though at a gallery, but Zach had something on his mind besides the yacht club’s history, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

“We could while away an afternoon and I could tell you the history of some of the boats in these pictures and the races they won. But we have things to discuss now, so I think we’d better go on into the dining room.”

She turned to follow him through a short hallway when her eye was caught by another set of pictures, a group of photographs. At their very center, there was a photo of a handsome young man, his black hair wavy and thick, disheveled by the wind, the rigging of his sailboat forming a background behind him, a big smile creasing his rugged young face. He was holding up, for the camera, a silver trophy. Allie put her hand on Zach’s arm to stop him.

“Why, Zach! That’s you!”

Zach turned back to the picture and stood in front of it, staring at it for a while. The sadness that came into his face was unmistakable.

“I was a lot younger, then.”

He seemed lost, for a moment, and then, remembering where he was, he turned abruptly and walked into the dining room.

* * *

He selected a table next to a window through which the afternoon sunlight was streaming. The white linen cloth gleamed brightly and the silver and the china, created with the club’s logo, were all invitingly in place. They were each handed a menu, and an order card was placed in front of Zach.

Allie glanced around her at the quiet, rather stodgy room. She and Zach were its only occupants, and again she could feel her old defensiveness rising up around her in the atmosphere of this very exclusive place. She remembered, with embarrassment, how she had originally thought Zach was a kind of town handyman, employed by Adam as a caretaker. She had certainly been wrong about that! She recognized her own bit of unconscious snobbery and was sorry for it.

“I had no idea,” she said, with all the poise she could muster, “that I was going to be having lunch in such exclusive company. You keep surprising me, Zach.”

And that, she thought, is the understatement of the year.

“Oh,” his gesture was casual, “this club is a hereditary thing. The Eliots have been members here for generations.” He didn’t realize that he was only intensifying Allie’s unhappy “outsider” anxiety. While she struggled to get her self-esteem back in place, Zach picked up the menu and glanced at it briefly.

“I suggest the soup, to start,” he said. “They do the soups well here. Will that be all right?”

Allie, as usual, didn’t care what she ate.

“That’s fine.” She was more concerned with bracing herself for the battle that was about to break between them. How had she let herself get into this? She should have just left him outside the door to this place. She had a show tonight and resting up for that was much more important than slugging it out with Zach Eliot. What did she care about defending Adam’s development project? If Adam thought it was a good idea, it probably was. He hadn’t called a single shot wrong since she’d known him.

“Would you like a drink?” Zack asked.

“Something light, I think. White wine.”

She wondered if a glass of wine would steady her nerves or muddle her head. She glanced at Zach across the table, trying to reconcile her confusion of feelings about him, her anger and awkwardness with her irrationally helpless response to his raw, animal energy and his smoothly masculine style.

“This place is not famous for its wine cellar,” Zach said, without any trace of an apology. “Will the ordinary house white be okay?”

“Of course.” She took a couple of deep breaths. Her natural good sense and her obstinate self-protectiveness were coming to her rescue. “That’ll be fine.”

Zach filled in the order card and told the waiter to bring Allie a glass of white wine and a Jack Daniels for him.

“Now, Allie,” he said, sitting back in his seat and absentmindedly tapping the waiter’s pencil on the arm of the chair, “let’s get back to where we were.” He fixed his intense gaze on her from beneath those black brows. “I want to know if Adam has kept his promise. Has he told you what he’s been up to?”

“Well, maybe you remember, Zach, I told you only a few minutes ago that Adam said it was all confidential.”

“I’ll bet he did.” He didn’t move a muscle and his expression was pure, cold cynicism. “Well, then, Allie, let me just whisper a couple of names in your ear. Let’s try ‘Matsuhara Group,’ for one.” He waited a minute to gauge her reaction. He saw, by the slightest widening of her eyes that he had registered. “And for another, how about ‘Pilgrims’ Landing’? How do those two grab you?”

“All right, Zach.” Allie relaxed a little, realizing Zach seemed to know about the plan already. “Adam has talked to me about the project, and frankly, I don’t think he’s ‘up to’ anything. That sounds so dishonest. I think that a theme park on Cape Cod is a great idea. I don’t know if they’re planning anything as big as Disneyland or Epcot, but considering the size of the area, it has the potential to be a real moneymaker.”

The waiter arrived with their soup and they both sat silently until he’d left. Neither one of them paid any attention to the plates that had been set in front of them. Zach continued tapping the pencil.

“So you think that a theme park on Cape Cod is a great idea?” His eyes narrowed, his face expressed nothing. “A great idea, hmm?” He was waiting for her to go on.

“Yes, I do, Zach.” She leaned forward a little and rested her hands on either side of her soup plate. “Yes, I do. It sounds to me like a real winner.” Despite her determination to be careful about what she told him, her enthusiasm for the project was crowding out her caution. “I don’t know all the details, but I think it’s probably a sound business venture that’s going to benefit many people, including the local residents.”

“The local residents! What the hell do you people from the outside know about the local residents?” He slammed the pencil down on the table, where it skittered around amidst the water glasses and the salt shaker. Allie jumped; her eyes blinked once, twice, riveted on Zach’s face. She realized how very angry he was. “What do you know about what a monstrosity like that project is going to do to a fine old community?” He was infuriated by her enthusiasm. “You really have signed on to this thing, haven’t you?”

She felt intimidated by his anger. Her mouth opened slowly as she tried to think what to say, but Zach held her immobile with his flashing eyes.

“And just what will the benefit be to you?” The sarcasm was obvious. “Where does Allie Randall fit into this lovely scheme?”

Allie was rigid in her seat, stunned into momentary silence by his sudden attack, outraged by his discounting of her opinion and—perhaps most painfully of all—hurt by being labeled as an “outsider.” She felt a powerful urge to escape, to just run out of the club, but she forced herself to return Zach’s angry gaze, cloaking herself in the coolest tone of voice she could command.

“My role in this isn’t very devious,” she said, “if I even have a role. They’re going to need artwork. I’m an artist. Adam is my agent and he’s working to make the connection.”

“You’re trying to tell me that you think that’s the extent of Adam’s involvement in the whole thing?” His expression was ice cold. “Allie, I’m not that stupid and neither are you.”

“I don’t know the extent of Adam’s involvement. Maybe he’s doing some other work for them, as a broker, for example. He had some contact with them before I came into the picture.” She looked down at her soup, seeing it for the first time. She picked up her spoon, tasted the soup absentmindedly, then put the spoon down again. “I don’t owe you any explanations. Where do you get the right to interrogate me like this?”

“Come off it, Allie. Don’t get so mad.” Despite his fury with her, Zach couldn’t help laughing. The staid old Rensselaer probably hadn’t seen this much energy since young Lieutenant Cody made a pass at the commodore’s wife back in 1998. Zach gestured at the plate in front of her. “Drink your soup,” he said.

“I can’t. It’s cold.”

“Of course it’s cold. It’s supposed to be cold. It’s a cucumber soup.”

What is it about this woman
, he was asking himself.
She’s getting angrier every minute, and it just makes her prettier.
He noted that the sunlight coming through the window next to her was pale around her anger.

Before he could say anything, Allie had found her tongue. “I think it would be interesting to know,” she challenged him angrily, “just what is your concern with this whole matter? You’ve been plenty quick to get mad at me, making all kinds of crazy charges, suggesting ugly things about Adam and me, accusing me of spying for him and snooping and whatnot. Maybe I’m entitled to some explanations—even if I am only an ‘outsider’!” Zach didn’t understand, of course, how that term rasped against Allie’s sensitive feelings, stirring all her painful memories, picking at all her tender places. “You people, with all your special privileges.” Allie’s hand gestured around her, taking in the silver, the linens, wood paneling and wainscoting, the whole club. “You get so used to running everything, you think you get to have everything your own way! Maybe you need to do some explaining.”