The Spiral Path (60 page)

The hashed brown potatoes she'd found in the freezer were crispy and golden, so she combined them with the onion and
pepper mixture to make the omelet filling. She was whipping eggs with a fork
when the phone rang. Since she could hear that Kenzie was in the shower, she
lifted it warily. "Hello."

"Raine? It's Marcus."

She relaxed. "Good. I worry that
some reporter will find this number."

"So far, only Naomi and I, Val, and
Emmy know where you are, and none of us will talk."

"You'd better tell Kenzie's
people," she suggested. "They'll have a heart attack if they don't
know where he is."

"I'll call Seth Cowan, and he can
handle Kenzie's end."

"How is the world responding to
Nigel Stone's grand revelation?"

"About as you'd expect. The more
respectable news outlets are ignoring the story since at this point it's basically
hearsay, while the sensationalist press has pounced with glee. A couple of
tabloids have dug up so-called experts who've never been closer to Kenzie than
the local multiplex, but who are quite willing to speculate that his macho
movie roles might be a way to cover up the fact that he's secretly gay."

Rainey sighed. "Why am I not
surprised?"

The producer laughed. "One idiot
even claimed that you're secretly gay, too, and you married each other to
provide mutual camouflage."

Her mouth tightened. "Such rubbish.
What are the white hats doing to make this go away?"

"Barb Rifkin has been cracking
heads among her media contacts, which is probably why the story hasn't been
picked up widely. Also, Val called from Ireland with some good ideas for
counterattacking." Marcus summarized Val's suggestions. Rainey nodded
through most of it, but frowned at the end.

Kenzie entered the kitchen, hair wet and
expression unreadable. "It's Marcus," she said. "Do you want to
talk to him?"

When he shook his head, she said
good-bye and hung up. "Sorry the omelet isn't quite done. Would you like
some orange juice?"

This time a nod. She poured a tall glass
of juice. Noticing that he hadn't shaved, she asked, "Growing a beard for
anonymity?"

"Maybe."

He was definitely not in a communicative
mood. "I thought it would be nice to eat in Alma's walled garden. Would
you set the table, please?"

Another nod. Juice in hand, he opened
the door to the garden, kittens skittering out with him. She poured the beaten
eggs into a skillet, then started the coffee and toasted Alma's sourdough
bread.

By the time Kenzie had scouted the
garden and located placemats and silverware, breakfast was ready to go. Rainey
divided the omelet with two-thirds for Kenzie and the rest for her, slid the
pieces onto plates warmed in the oven, then added the toast and a jar of honey.
As she lifted the tray, she asked, "Could you pour the coffee and bring it
out?"

He filled the mugs and followed her out
to the garden, which was at the height of late summer glory. Flowering vines
covered one wall and the air was heady with high desert scents. She noticed a
small, weathered statue of St. Francis lurking beside a sage bush. The circular
table and chairs were pleasantly cool under the arbor, and decorated with a
hopeful-looking gray kitten.

Kenzie set down the coffee mugs and
removed the kitten from the table. "Sorry, gray guy, that's not
allowed."

"Is Gray Guy his name?" Rainey
placed the plates on the table and set the tray aside, then took one of the
chairs.

"It might as well be. Do you want
to name the tabby, since she's just leaped on your lap?"

Rainey petted the little cat, who purred
ecstatically at the attention. "She says her name is Honeybunny, since her
fur is bunny soft, honey-colored, and she certainly is sweet." Gently she
returned the kitten to the weathered quarry tile floor. "I hope the food
is okay. I'm feeling vastly proud of myself for remembering how to turn on a
stove."

Kenzie sampled the omelet. "This is
good. I'm not sure I knew you could cook."

Glad he was eating and speaking
sentences, Rainey started on her eggs. They had turned out pretty well, and the
food steadied her. How long had it been since she'd eaten? She bogged down on
the time zones, but knew it had been too long.

Under the influence of dappled sun,
fragrant flowers, and wrestling kittens, the knots in her shoulders slowly
eased. Peace radiated from the earth itself. Los Angeles and London both seemed
like different planets.

It felt so right to be sitting here
quietly with Kenzie. Despite their hectic lives, there had been many pleasant
times spent sharing meals and each other's company in some remote, beautiful
spot. For a few minutes, she allowed herself the luxury of pretending that all
was well. After they finished eating, she poured second cups of coffee.
"I'm beginning to remember what it's like to have a life."

"Enjoy it while you can. I should
think you'll be as busy in postproduction as you were doing the shooting."

She contemplated the return to Southern
California without enthusiasm. "You're probably right."

Kenzie rested his elbows on his knees,
turning his mug restlessly in his palms. "What did Marcus have to
say?"

"Things are looking pretty
good." Rainey briefly summarized the producer's remarks. She hesitated
before adding reluctantly, "Apparently Nigel Stone has also produced a
child pornography video he says you were in."

Kenzie shut his eyes, face twisting.
"I'd almost forgotten about that. Rock gave me some kind of drug, a form
of Ecstasy, maybe, then took me to this grimy little studio. I don't remember
much about it, and never saw the finished product. Nigel probably found a copy
among his father's things after Rock's death."

"Val saw a still picture from the
video, and said it didn't look like you--right coloring, wrong features. So
Nigel can't hurt you with it."

Kenzie's gaze went to a pair of
butterflies dancing above a bush. "He's already done quite enough
damage."

"It's hellacious to have everything
you wanted to forget stirred up again, but it will blow over in a few
weeks."

"It didn't for Humpty Dumpty. All
the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't do a damned thing for
him." Kenzie glanced up at her, expression taut. "Don't look so
worried. I won't kill myself on your watch."

Her blood froze. "Is killing
yourself an option?"

Too much time passed before he said,
"It's not very likely."

"For God's sake, Kenzie, don't even
think of that!" She leaned forward and clasped his wrist. "This will
pass."

His gaze dropped to her hands, then
traveled down her body, lingering where the tank top fell away from her
breasts. She felt a strange heat between them--desire so tangled with
complications that it was impossible to act on.

Grateful he hadn't wrenched away, she
released his hand and leaned back in the chair, trying to look normal even
though she was shaking inside. If she freaked out, he'd stop talking to her
altogether. "I'd like to be sure I understand this. You're saying you're
too considerate to off yourself while I'm around to find the body?"

"That's pretty much it." His
voice dropped to a whisper. "No one should have to do that more than once
in a lifetime."

She winced as she thought of Clementine,
and the hapless girl called Maggie Mackenzie. "Given the horrible effect
of suicide on one's nearest and dearest, can I get you to extend your promise
to the point of saying it's not an option? You'll get over this depression,
Kenzie, I'm sure of it. You're so strong. You've survived too much to be
brought down by a vicious little weasel like Nigel Stone."

"Not depressed. More ...
hollow," he said, choosing his words slowly. "It took so much time
and energy to create Kenzie Scott out of such unpromising material. He was like
a blown glass Christmas ornament--impressive until it shatters, and there's
nothing inside but emptiness. Building again would take more stamina than I
have. But I don't intend to do anything rash. At the moment, my thoughts are
running more toward never setting foot outside of Cibola for the rest of my
life."

She raised her gaze to the mountains
soaring above the adobe walls. "That I could understand. But what would
you do with yourself? I have trouble seeing you as a serious rancher."

"I'm going to start by building a
labyrinth. There's a little meadow on the hill above the house that's perfect
for that."

At least constructing something was
productive. "A turf labyrinth like the one at Morchard House?"

"Too dry for that. I thought some
kind of tile or flagstone."

"Shall we go into Chama and see if
they have a building materials supplier?"

He shrugged. "Callie Spears, the
decorator I used, can pick something out and get it delivered."

So much for getting him away from the
house. He might claim he wasn't depressed, but she had her doubts. Whenever she
was depressed, she wanted to crawl under her bed and hide, which was pretty
much what Kenzie was doing now.

"Back to the woodpile." He
stood and collected the plates, then left.

She watched him enter the house,
thinking that he might doubt if he had the strength to rebuild himself, but he
certainly had more energy than she did. For days, she'd felt like a limp
dishrag. A pity his energy was fueled by anger and frustration.

She closed her eyes, feeling the blood
pound in her temples. She couldn't leave him when he was in this strange,
dangerous mood.

But what about the damned movie?
Investors had risked their money, cast and crew had knocked themselves out to
make it. She had a responsibility to all of them.

Feeling a headache coming on, she went
inside to her bedroom to call Marcus again. Too tired for tact, as soon as he
answered she said bluntly, "I can't come to L.A. to edit the film, Marcus.
I don't dare leave Kenzie alone."

The producer sucked in his breath.
"If he's in that bad shape, we should get him into a good clinic until
he's stabilized."

"No! That would be the worst
possible thing for him. He's not raving or anything, and I'm sure he could
convince any shrink he's fine. It's just that he might, in a perfectly rational
way, decide that he's tired of having to work so hard on his life."

She expected an argument, but Marcus
surprised her. "Okay, stay in New Mexico. No movie is worth risking a
person's life, especially if losing Kenzie meant losing you, too."

How well he understood her.
"Thanks, Marcus. Eva Yanez is the best editor in the business for this
kind of character-driven movie, and my scene notes are so complete she can do
most of the job without me. I'll fine-tune after she's through cutting
it."

"Whoa, girl! You can stay in New
Mexico, but I'm not letting you off the hook for postproduction. With the right
communications and satellite hookup, you can work with Eva and the sound people
as if you're in the same room."

"I can do this by computer?"

"Sure. It's not ideal, and it's
certainly not cheap, but the technology has been in place for several years
now."

"I'll have to ask Kenzie for
permission to set up all that equipment," she said uncertainly. "He
is the owner of this place, and it's not beyond the realm of possibility that
he might very politely say it's time for me to leave."

"Play cat--quiet but companionable.
Sometimes the best thing you can offer someone is your presence. Don't press
him to bare his soul--being English and male, he won't want to."

She smiled a little. "I'll try not
to be too touchy-feely Californian."

"Get his permission to set up shop
as soon as you can. I'll make the arrangements to get the equipment together
and trucked to you. It should be in place by the beginning of next week. The
installers can be in and out in a day, so it shouldn't be too intrusive."

"Marcus, this will cost a fortune,
and every penny in the budget is spent or committed already!"

"I'll put in whatever extra is
needed."

She ran her fingers through her hair,
hopeful but anxious. "What happened to never investing your own
money?"

"A man's gotta do what a man's
gotta do." There was a chuckle in his voice. "This has the potential
to be a truly fine movie, Rainey, but it needs your vision every step of the
way, or we risk losing what will make it special. I'll be damned if I let a
terrific movie be lost for the sake of a couple of hundred thousand
dollars."

She rubbed her eyes. After years of
never crying, now she felt on the verge of tears constantly. "No wonder
you're the best independent producer in Hollywood."

"Damn straight. In return, I expect
you to bring your next project to me first." He turned serious. "I
mean that, Rainey. The world has enough blockbuster special effects flicks.
What it needs is movies with heart. If I can't support the kind of project I
love, what's the point of being in the business?"