Where the Heart Chooses (38 page)

“I’m not surprised. This administration…Dr.
Helms is excellent.” She took another business card from her case
and handed it to me. “I think Quinn will get good results from
her.”

“Thank you.”

“Whatever I can do for my godson. Ah, here’s
our lunch!”

* * * *

While Gregor was driving us to Madame
Rosa’s, I dialed Francesca Dashwood’s number. “Ms. Dashwood, this
is Portia Mann. What can you tell me about your listings?”

* * * *

Tentative arrangements were made, and once
my fitting was complete and I’d changed into my clothes, I dialed
Mark’s number. Before I could tell him who was calling, he said,
“May I call you back?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.”

In a matter of minutes my phone rang, and I
picked up.

“It’s Vincent, Mrs. Mann. I’m sorry I had
to—”

“That’s quite all right, Mark. I understand,
I assure you.”

“Yeah, you probably do. The WBIS doesn’t
care if I’m friends with a guy, but they’d get a little bent out of
shape if that guy is CIA.”

I recalled my thoughts earlier in
September.

He misread my silence, and his next words
were brisk but cold. “I won’t let that affect him, I swear.”

“I believe you,” I assured him. “I apologize
for calling at an inopportune time.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” He sounded more relaxed.
“I’m assuming Quinn gave you my number.”

“I have my own ways of learning things,
Mark.”

“Should I be alarmed?”

“Not as long as you don’t hurt my son.”

“Fair enough. What can I do for you, Mrs.
Mann?”

“Quinton told me you’re in the market for a
new home.”

He was silent for a moment before saying,
“He…uh…he talks to you about me?”

“Yes. Does that bother you?”

“No…I don’t know. I’ve never…uh…How do you
feel about it, Mrs. Mann?”

“As I said, don’t hurt my son. Now, it’s
come to my knowledge that a condominium is available in Aspen
Reach.”

“Aspen Reach?”

“Yes, it’s in Alexandria. It’s a small,
gated community.”

“Just gates? Or a guard as well?”

“Just gates, which the residents can access
with a remote. There are security cameras at the entrance. What was
that?”

He cleared his throat. “Nothing, ma’am.”

“Yes.” I pretended I hadn’t heard him
mutter, “Those cameras make me feel all warm and safe.” I swallowed
a laugh and gave him a brief rundown of the amenities—golf course,
tennis courts, gym, restaurant. “From what I’ve been told, it’s
quite lovely.”

“Been told by who? Whom?”

“Francesca Dashwood. She’s the Realtor.”

“And you trust this Dashwood woman enough
that I won’t be taken to the cleaners?”

“No. I don’t know her, Mark. She happens to
be the sister-in-law of a friend of mine. Allison told me that Ms.
Dashwood is offering the condominium. She asked if I’d send some
business her way. I’d like to help Allison if I can. The price
isn’t unreasonable.” I told him how much it was going for.

“Y’ know, Mrs. Mann, for that type of
community in Virginia, it isn’t excessive, but the thing is,
there’s usually a reason if something sounds too good to be
true.”

“One might say so. Apparently something the
prospective buyers learned has made them unwilling to go ahead with
the deal.”

“Do we know why?”

“I’m sure Ms. Dashwood will be more than
willing to tell us.” She would if she wanted the sale.

“‘Us’?”

“I’d like to see this condo myself. I
haven’t been house-hunting since Quinton was looking for his
townhouse.” And I wanted the opportunity to spend some time with my
son’s…friend.

“Don’t tell me. It just so happens that
you’re here in the Capitol.”

“Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I’m at
Madame Rosa’s, my dressmaker.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan.” Truthfully, I
was surprised he didn’t put up more of an argument. “What can you
tell me about the condo?”

“It’s a third-floor corner unit,
approximately three thousand square feet. Two bedrooms, two and a
half baths.” I went on to describe the split floor plan of the
condo, and then revealed what would be the most important aspect of
this condo for him: whether during rush hour or off-peak, it was
about a ten-minute drive to my son’s townhouse.

“I have to admit you’ve got me
interested.”

I thought he might be. “If you’re free, Ms.
Dashwood has said she’ll meet us outside the gates of Aspen Reach
in three-quarters of an hour. Gregor is here as well, and he can
drive us if you’d like.”

“I’d rather drive, if you don’t mind, Mrs.
Mann. Uh…does he have to come with us?”

“Not at all.” I swallowed another laugh. He
and Gregor still didn’t get along. “But he’s my ride home.”

“I can drive you to Great Falls.”

“Mark, it’s Friday. You have dinner with
Quinton on Friday.” I’d learned this when Jack Abberley had arrived
in the States a few months ago for a visit, and my son hadn’t been
able to dine with us.

“I’m meeting Mark at Raphael’s, Mother,”
Quinton had told me. “It’s…a standing engagement when I’m
home.”

Last Christmas, DB had given him a gift
certificate to the upscale Italian restaurant in the Capitol.
Quinton must have thought very highly of it, because as it turned
out, Raphael’s was
their place
.

“That’s not a problem,” Mark said now.

“Oh?” Was he already taking my son for
granted? “You’re aware Quinton is home.” Shortly before Gregor and
I had arrived at the café, my phone had rung. It was Quinton. I
could hear how tired he was, but instead of getting some rest, he’d
been ordered to State.

“Yes, ma’am, I know.”

“And you wouldn’t rather spend the evening
with my son?”

“Mrs. Mann, Quinn would have my a—He
wouldn’t be happy if I drove you back to D.C. and then made you
drive all the way back home.”

“It’s only a half-hour drive.”

“Yeah, but you know, we’re talking rush hour
by the time we get done looking at this place. It’ll be easier if I
drive you home.”

“I’m not a wilting violet, I’ll have you
know.”

“No, ma’am. But if it comes to a choice
between Quinn being pissed at me or you being pissed at me, I’ll
have to go with you.”

“I see.” I thought briefly of Bryan’s
ex-wife, who would never have put my brother ahead of anything.
I…liked that Mark put Quinton first. “Very well.” I gave him the
directions to my dressmaker.

“I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes,
ma’am.”

“Very good, Mark. By the way?”

“Yes?”

“Please stop calling me ‘ma’am’.”

He was chuckling as he hung up.

I smiled myself as I dialed my son’s number.
It went directly to voice mail, so I left a message.

“I’m going to look over a condominium with
Mark, sweetheart. It’s listed by Allison’s sister-in-law. Allison
asked me to send some business her way. Mark is insisting on
driving me home, so I’m going to insist he stay for dinner. If you
want to keep your usual Friday arrangement, I would suggest you
call Gregor. He’s in town and will be more than happy to have
someone to talk to on the drive home.”

Satisfied, I hung up and stepped out of the
dressing room. “Rosa, this is perfect. If you’ll see it’s boxed up,
I’ll take it with me.”

* * * *

I didn’t like Ms. Dashwood. It had nothing
to do with the fact that she loomed over me, that her breasts would
challenge Pamela Anderson’s, or that she made a play for the man
who accompanied me. I wouldn’t like any woman who dismissed a
member of her own sex for no discernible reason. She’d given me a
condescending smile, and then turned her charm, such as it was, on
Mark.

He didn’t seem to care for her attitude
either, and his solution was to address me by ridiculous pet names,
insinuating I was keeping him.

I was amused by that idea. As if anyone
could “keep” Mark Vincent.

I was no longer amused when I saw the ruby
drop earrings Ms. Dashwood wore. Clarkson Palmer, Allison’s first
husband had given them to her after he’d cheated on her the first
time. They were very garish and not to her taste, but she refused
to give them to him when he asked for a divorce and the rubies
back.

Was that how she’d gotten the woman out of
her home? If so, it wasn’t my business. If not…

I’d ask Allison.

The community’s many amenities—the pool, the
exercise room, the banquet room with its adjacent gourmet kitchen,
card room, billiard room, and theater for viewing movies, as well
as membership to its private golf course—didn’t seem to make much
of an impression.

He leaned down and whispered, “What I see
are these community fees going sky high!”

We drove to the sprawling, three-story
building on Aspen Way. The lobby was spacious, with a small room
off it for mail delivery.

Mark shook his head and murmured, “Not safe.
It’s a good thing I pay all my bills online.” He didn’t mention
personal mail, and I observed him thoughtfully.

“What about Christmas cards? Birthday
cards?”

“Oh, well, yeah, but…Sh-shoot.” He scowled.
“Something else to worry about.”

Ms. Dashwood tried to steer us toward the
elevators, but Mark, who I’d learned had an almost pathological
distrust of elevators—and who was still annoyed by the fact that
he’d have to retrieve his mail—stalked toward the stairwell. I
followed him, and he muttered, “You get out of breath, and I’m
tossing you over my shoulder and carrying you the rest of the way!”
And he kept glancing at me from the corner of his eye as we made
the climb to the top floor.

Having taken the elevator, Ms. Dashwood was
there ahead of us, waiting impatiently, although she smoothed her
expression as soon as she saw us approaching. She pasted a smile on
her face and unlocked the door of 320.

As I’d told him, the condominium was a
corner unit. What I’d been unaware of was how very feminine and
very
pink
it was, but it was obvious Mark liked its
bones.

An added feature was access to the roof—this
was a top floor unit—but for some reason that access was
denied.

“I’m sorry.” Ms. Dashwood’s smile didn’t
reach her eyes. “The condominium association is having some work
done on the roof, and no one is permitted there just now.”

Mark wasn’t pleased.

After showing us the rest of the unit, she
left us in the master bedroom to discuss the purchase.

Mark had other things on this mind, however.
“The previous owner must have been seriously unhappy with the
carpeting.” He crouched near a spot where wall and floor met.
Unlike the other rooms that were carpeted in various shades of
pink, this one had been removed, leaving tufts sticking out from
under the molding.

He went to the bed, raised the mattress up
enough to see beneath it, and then let it down gently.

“Mark?”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing there,
but I wonder…if I spritz this headboard with Luminol, will it turn
blue?”

“You think someone might have been killed
here?”

“All this time on the market, and all those
prospective buyers backing out, not to mention the way the carpet
was yanked out? Yeah.” Most people wouldn’t leap to that
conclusion, but then most people weren’t Mark Vincent. It was
fascinating to watch the WBIS agent at work. “And now I really want
to see what’s up on the roof. Look, can you distract her for about
ten minutes?”

“Of course. I’ll suggest I want to examine
the dining room again.”

“Good idea. It’s at the other end of the
condo.”

“Admit it, Mark—you just want to see me in
action.”

He narrowed his eyes—did no one ever tease
him?—but he was chuckling as I left the room.

* * * *

Ms. Dashwood was waiting in the foyer.
“Where’s your…friend?”

“He’s measuring things. You know how men can
be.”

“I thought I did,” she muttered, raking her
gaze over me.

“Would you mind if we looked at the dining
room again? I have a Cézanne that will fit perfectly on the
wall.”

“A what?”

“Cézanne. The French painter? You are
familiar with his works, aren’t you?”

“Of course. I…just didn’t expect you to give
such an expensive painting to a…friend.”

“Mark? Frankly, he’s cost me much more than
the price of a Cézanne.”

“He has?”

I shrugged daintily. “You heard him mention
the house we looked at with the mirror on the ceiling? He decided
at the last minute he didn’t want it, and it cost me the deposit.
Still, it could have been worse. There was the time he wrecked the
Lexus I’d just given him for his birthday. “

“What did you do?”

“Oh, we walked back into the dealership and
bought another one, which he liked better. It matched his eyes, you
see.”

“You’re very generous.”

“Ah, but what he gives me in return is worth
so much more than mere money.”

She started to choke. Finally, she was able
to ask, “Aren’t you worried he’ll find someone younger?”

“Not at all. He’s very loyal.”

“That still doesn’t mean he won’t decide one
day that he’d like someone closer to his own age.”

“Of course that’s a possibility. And if it
should happen, we’ll part as friends.”

“Will you give him a settlement?”

“In addition to everything else I’ve given
him? Certainly. The laborer is worthy of his hire. And Mark is
very
worthy.” I gave her a complacent smile.

“How long have you been together?”

She was making me tired, so I decided to see
if I could shock her. “Ten years.”

Her eyes were huge. “He’s been with you all
that time?”

“Yes.”

“Has he ever cheated on you?”

“No. He knew I’d feed him his testicles if
he did something like that.”

“And that’s why he’s loyal.”