Wait Until Dark (7 page)

"I see," Nicholas murmured. He studied her with a delving intensity that was unnerving. It was as if he could see inside her, read her thoughts, and her emotions.

Gently, he reached out, caressed her cheek, wiped away the fingering traces of moisture near her eyes. "So that's why you were crying." He didn't wait for a response. "I tell you what. The contractors won't be here for almost two hours. That pathetic Styrofoam cup of coffee I see sitting in the corner must be ice cold by now. I brought a whole thermos of it with me, hot and freshly brewed, along with a half-dozen of the best doughnuts you'll ever taste. Why don't we sit outside, eat some breakfast, and talk? This time we'll get past the superficial questions. This time we'll
really
talk about your father."

Over the next hour Nicholas talked, and Lindsey was a rapt audience. He told her about Harlan's driving ambition, his dry sense of humor, his mile-wide stubborn streak. He got into Harlan's commitment to the environment, his aversion to shellfish and his affinity for classical music. He spoke of a man who prided himself on his people skills, who pushed himself to excel at everything he tackled - from investments to golf - and who tried a dozen different methods to get over his chronic seasickness, all unsuccessfully.

"He couldn't even look at a boat," Nicholas chuckled. "Not even when it was docked. The mere sight of it rocking from side to side made him lose his lunch."

"So that's where I get it from," Lindsey noted aloud. "Oh, I'm not quite as bad as that. I'm fine on kayaks, rowboats, canoes, even an occasional sailboat. But anything bigger than that?" She shuddered. "I went out on a friend's yacht once. The minute we dropped anchor and the boat started bobbing around, my insides started churning. I dived into the ocean and alternately swam and treaded water until it was time to head back. I love the water, but only as a spectator, a paddler, or a swimmer.
Not
as a passenger on anything serious enough to have a motor."

Nicholas shot her a sympathetic look. "Hearing that, I'm glad you're staying at my house and I'm using the yacht. I guess I won't be offering you any moonlight cruises."

"Not unless you're dying to send our clothes to the cleaners."

"I see your point." A wicked grin. "On the other hand, that would mean having to take our clothes off. Maybe we should try out my yacht after all."

Lindsey rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."

"Um-hum. But am I making headway?"

Averting her gaze, Lindsey wondered how the conversation had gone from teasing to intimate. "I don't know how to answer that."

"You just did."

Electricity crackled in the air.

Lindsey's cell phone rang.

She jumped, startled by the sound, and stared blankly down at her side where the phone lay. Recovering, she snatched it up. "I hope none of the contractors is canceling," she muttered, punching the talk button. "Hello?"

A slight pause, after which a male voice inquired, "Lindsey?"

"Yes?"

"This is Stuart Falkner. I need to speak with you. It's important. Can I buy you breakfast?"

Her gut tightened. "I've already eaten."

"I see. Lunch, then. Say, about noon? There's a great restaurant overlooking the Cliff Walk that..."

"That won't be possible. I've got contractors coming any minute. They'll be here all day. I can't get away." A heavy sigh. "I realize you're leery of me, and my motives. The truth is, Tracy and I feel very bad for the way we've treated you. We'd like to make amends. Plus, we really do have something important to discuss with you. Can you just break away for an hour?"

"So now it's you
and
Tracy." She wished she knew where Stuart's head really was, what he was and wasn't guilty of. "Honestly, Stuart, I really can't. I don't have time for lunch. I don't know my way around Newport, and I don't have time to ask directions - "

"I'll drive you," Nicholas interrupted.

Her head whipped around. "What?"

"Wherever it is Stuart wants to meet, I'll take you there."

"Is that Nick?" Stuart jumped in eagerly. "He knows where the restaurant is. He can join us."

Lindsey was on the verge of refusing when Nicholas plucked the phone from her hand. "Stuart? Where and when?" A pause. "We'll be there." He pressed
END
and handed Lindsey the phone.

Resentment simmered through her. "Why did you do that? I have no desire to meet with - "

"Because I want to find out if either of them had anything to do with that phone call you got last night,"

Nicholas broke in. "I can read them better than you can. Plus, I think you should hear what they have to say. We both should - for different reasons, maybe, but equally valid ones." He met and held her gaze, although he didn't elaborate on that statement. "The contractors I referred you to are all pros. They don't need you here every minute. Trust me. Let's have this lunch."

Her indignation slowly abated. "You have some kind of agenda, I wish I knew what it was."

"Trust me," he repeated.

Slowly, she nodded, wondering if she was going to regret this. "I do."

9

THE RESTAURANT WAS CHARMING, elegant in a Newport-vacationer kind of way. Lindsey was glad she'd stopped off at Nicholas's house long enough to drop off her bags, freshen up, and change out of her jeans and into a pair of linen slacks and a blazer before heading off to this farce of a meal.

Nicholas seemed to sense her tension, because he wrapped a steadying arm around her waist as he escorted her through the lounge and up to the reservations desk.

"Hello, Henry," he greeted the maitre d'.

"Mr. Warner, how are you?" Henry waited politely for Nicholas to respond before he plucked out two menus and gestured for them to follow him. "Mr. and Ms. Falkner are already here. I'll show you to your table."

They made their way to a quiet corner table near the open French doors that had a magnificent view of the ocean and plenty of privacy. Stuart and Tracy Falkner were seated there, drinking wine and having a heated discussion.

From the corner of his eye, Stuart spotted them, and cut short whatever he'd been saying. With a cordial smile he rose, his gaze lingering on Lindsey as if he still couldn't believe her resemblance to his family.

Tracy followed her brother's gaze, angling her head in their direction and watching them approach, her expression closed and emotionally contained. But the tight, arrogant set of her jaw told Lindsey that the restraint she was demonstrating was costing her, and that it was all an act.

Then again, this whole lunch was probably an act.

"Thanks for coming," Stuart said, addressing Lindsey but shooting a grateful look at Nicholas. "I know you're busy."

"Yes. Busy supervising the work you're doing on the family vacation house," Tracy added.

"I am." Ignoring the accusation lacing Tracy's tone, Lindsey slid into the chair Nicholas held out for her. "But whatever you needed to see me about sounded important. And Nicholas offered to drive me. So here I am." In response to the waiter's quiet request, she turned and ordered a glass of sparkling water.

"You don't drink either?" Tracy inquired, arching a brow. "I'm beginning to think you don't have any weaknesses."

Steadily, Lindsey met her gaze. "I have several. One is a bad temper - which I lose when my privacy is invaded, when I'm bribed, and when I'm patronized. By the way, I do drink - just not in the middle of a workday. I'm an architect, not a figurehead CEO. I do designs, not business lunches."

A tight smile curved Tracy's lips. "You certainly have the cutting Falkner tongue," she noted. "I'll try to remember that." At Stuart's warning glare, she continued, forcing out the words as if they pained her. "I apologize for the private investigator, for my brother's and my attempts to buy you off, and for that scene in Leland's office. I came off as a pushy bitch. The truth is, I'm just very protective of my family."

"Of which you're now a part," Stuart jumped in. He cleared his throat. "Why don't we order lunch? Then, we can talk."

"Good idea." Nicholas signaled the waiter, who was on his way over anyway. The round little man picked up his pace, hurrying over to place Lindsey's sparkling water and Nicholas's glass of merlot on the table. He then whipped out his pad, jotted down their order, and scurried off to the kitchen to have it filled.

"How's the construction going?" Stuart asked. "Has it started?"

"Barely," Lindsey replied. "I won't see major progress for a few days."

"What exactly have you planned to renovate?" Casually, Tracy set down her glass, inclining her head in question. "The place is in excellent condition. I'm sure it's dusty from lack of use, but I can't imagine it needing much more than a little sprucing up."

"It doesn't. What I'm doing is restoring the manor, making it consistent with its original Georgian style. As for major renovations, the only ones I've planned are to have the plumbing and electrical systems modernized. And I'm having a couple of structural changes done to make the house more suitable to my mother's lifestyle - taking down a few walls to enlarge certain rooms, adding some windows for sunlight. I'm also having landscaping done, creating a front and backyard garden. Gardening is a passion of my mother's - one she's never been able to indulge in, since we've always lived in an apartment. Now, she can plant and prune to her heart's content. The contractors will be digging around the foundation to waterproof it, anyway. I'll have the landscapers do their work after that."

"It sounds very ambitious," Stuart said with another of those practiced smiles. "No wonder you plan to spend every waking moment of your vacation there."

"I don't recall saying that," Lindsey replied slowly. "But, yes, I will be at the manor most of the time. More out of interest than to supervise. As Nicholas pointed out, the contractors he recommended are pros. They don't need overseeing. I'll probably drive out each morning, stay as long as I choose to, then drive back at night."

"At night?" Tracy asked. "Why?"

"Because I like to look over my projects when it's quiet and there are no distractions. That way, I can evaluate my ideas, see if they look as good in reality as they did on paper."

"Really?" Tracy's tone actually contained a tinge of admiration. "You're certainly dedicated. And thorough."

"You obviously know what you're doing." Stuart concluded.

"I should. I specialize in the restoration of historic homes." Lindsey paused, wondering where this in-depth discussion of her skills was leading. She was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. "None of this is news to you. You know everything there is to know about me, thanks to your investigator."

"We know only facts. You're giving us nuances." Stuart cleared his throat again. "In any case, you're clearly top-notch in your field. Your mother must be very proud."

Warning bells sounded in Lindsey's head.

"She is." It didn't take a genius to guess that Stuart was steering the conversation in a specific direction. And whatever that direction was, it was the basis for this lunch.

Their food chose that inopportune moment to arrive, and everyone at the table fell silent until all the entrees had been served, the water glasses had been refilled, and the waiter was satisfied that he'd done all he could to make his renowned customers comfortable.

"That'll be all," Nicholas told him quietly.

"Very good, Mr. Warner." He took the hint and vanished.

"I hope you enjoy your salad, Lindsey," Stuart said, trying to dispel the tension. "The food here is quite good."

"I'm sure it is." She had no more desire to eat than she had to be here. But she dutifully tasted her chef's salad, chewing and swallowing automatically.

Another prolonged silence, presumably so they could savor their meal.

Lindsey's nerves were frayed to snapping, when Nicholas put down his fork and gazed steadily at Stuart. "You mentioned that this lunch was important," he prodded.

A slow nod. "It is."

'"Then let's get to its purpose," Lindsey demanded with quiet intensity. "We've had enough small talk and food:
^”

Stuart dabbed at his mouth, then refolded his napkin on his lap, and leaned forward, angling his body toward Lindsey. "You're very direct. I appreciate that. So I will be, too, Tracy and I have been less than honest with you. It's time we cleared the air, laid all our cards on the table."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that, as you know, neither Tracy nor I knew of your existence before the will reading. What we didn't realize at that time is that our mother did. She knew that one of her maids, Irene Hall, was involved with our father. She knew that Irene became pregnant, and that it happened right here at our Newport manor. She knew that my father paid Irene Hall to disappear. Needless to say, that discovery took a huge toll on my parents' marriage and on my mother. The marriage recovered. My mother never really did - not completely. Not even after Father assured her the affair was over for good. She started drinking. She couldn't bear the sight of the manor, and that aversion got worse as the years passed and her emotional and physical state deteriorated. She tried to curb her reaction, for Tracy's and my sake. But eventually it became too much for her. We stopped visiting the summer house altogether. After that, Mother coped the only way she could - she blocked out all memory of anything relating to the affair."

"Blocked it out," Lindsey repeated woodenly. She wished she hadn't eaten. Her stomach was lurching, threatening to return its contents. "If your mother doesn't remember any of this, then who did you get your information from?"

"Mother's doctor. I went to him right after Leland told us about you. I wanted him to advise us how best to break the news to my mother. As it turned out, Dr. Barley already knew the whole story. It seems Mother confided in him. It was during one of those rare sessions when she experienced a flash of memory. When I divulged the situation to him - about you and Father's provisions for you - he told me he already knew. He cautioned me that my mother was protecting herself by forgetting, that it could be dangerous if she learned of these new developments. He believes it might push her over the edge. She's fragile. He wants to shield her. So do we."

A heartbeat of a pause. "I understand my mother is not your problem," Stuart clarified. "But
your
mother is. Dr. Farley went on to explain that he adamantly believes it would be psychologically harmful for Father's mistress to make her home in a place that can conjure up nothing but painful memories. He suggested we get rid of the house altogether, start anew - for everyone's sake."

Taking a deep swallow of water, Stuart leaned closer, determined to drive home his point. "I'm not trying to intimidate you, Lindsey, nor am I trying to buy you off. I'm simply asking you to do what's best. Sell Nicholas the manor. Let him raze it to the ground. Let the past be laid to rest. Who knows? Maybe we can start over. Maybe we can actually get to know each other, form some kind of relationship. Tracy and I are willing. But not with this albatross hanging around our necks."

If that wasn't emotional blackmail, Lindsey didn't know what was.

"This relationship we form - will you tell your mother about it?" she asked.

Silence.

"That's what I thought." Lindsey waved away whatever Stuart had been about to say. "Let's skip the mending fences. It's clearly never going to happen. I don't do clandestine relationships. And I certainly won't expose my mother to one."

"Fine," Tracy said a little too quickly. "What about the rest of what Stuart said - are you agreeable?"

Lindsey wasn't sure what she felt. Nor did she give herself time to consider it.

"Let's say I believe everything you just told me," she said. "You're desperate to protect your mother. Well, what happens if the press gets wind of my existence? What if they find out I'm Harlan Falkner's illegitimate daughter? It's more than likely, given the world's fascination with your family. The media will have a field day. News of my identity might even get through the fortress you've built around Rolling Hills. What will happen to your mother then?"

"She'll be reminded of a past she already knows but has buried in her subconscious." Stuart's comeback was so fast that it had to have been rehearsed. "Yes, it'll be difficult. But not nearly as devastating as what will happen to her if she's forced to learn that the manor harboring all her emotional ghosts is now home to Father's mistress and illegitimate child. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but let's face it, Lindsey, if you're nothing more than a news story, if the house is leveled, you'll be an upsetting but obscure memory, not a blatant slap in Mother's face. Now let's turn the tables. What happens to
your
mother if the press finds out about you? Let me assure you, her best bet is to be as far away from Newport as possible. Otherwise, she'll find herself directly in the line of fire."

Everything inside Lindsey went cold, and her suspicions over last night's phone call surged to the forefront. "Is that a threat? Because today seems to be a big day for my getting those."

Stuart frowned. "I specifically said this wasn't meant to intimidate you. It was meant to - "

"I'm not talking about now. I'm talking about last night. Somewhere around three
A.M."

"You've lost me."

Nicholas spoke up for the first time since Stuart had begun his explanation. "Lindsey got a phone call in the middle of the night. She was warned to sell the manor, to stay away from Newport, and to keep her mouth shut about her blood ties to Harlan. She didn't recognize the voice." He took a sip of merlot, gazed steadily from Stuart to Tracy. "Neither of you knows anything about that phone call, do you?"

"What kind of question is that?" Stuart returned, a flush stealing up his neck.

"I think we're being accused of something, Stu." Tracy entered the conversation flippantly, taking another bite of her filet of sole as she did. "Our new stepsister doesn't trust us."

"Obviously, neither does our old friend." Stuart leveled an icy stare at Nicholas.

That stare didn't seem to phase Nicholas a bit. "I can't think of many people who would benefit from scaring the hell out of Lindsey. The three of us are definite choices. And I know
I
had nothing to do with it. I'm simply asking if either of you did."