A ruling passion : a novel (48 page)

"Enough to build the Cathedral of Joy, and hind 'The Hour of Grace.' And a little more."

Her evasiveness was the first clue that the numbers must be very big.

"Here," Sybille said. "Take the next right; the road is about a quarter of a mile farther."

"Look!" Chad exclaimed. "It's gigantic!"

In fact the church was not as big as Nick had imagined, but, sitting by itself in the midst of the fields, near the edge of dense woods, it seemed to tower above them. Nick parked near a dozen workers' cars and vans in a churned-up dirt area near a side entrance. "Parking lot," Sybille said. "I'll have two more, one in back and one at the other side."

"Can we go inside?" Chad asked.

"That's what we're here for," Sybille said. "I wanted you to see it."

Nick glanced at her as they walked around the building to the high carved double doors at the front, looking for the kind of excitement he had seen in her face the evening they watched the first airing of "The Hot Seat," and again when he and Chad sat in the control room during one of her newscasts. But what he saw, instead of excitement, was cool calculation: the keen, encompassing survey of a woman who was thinking not only of this moment, but beyond it, to bigger moments to come. Bigger what? Nick wondered. She had always clawed so feverishly for attention, yet she had always been behind the scenes... what was she after now? He could not believe it was attention for Lily Grace.

It could be the money, if in fact there was as much of it as her coy answer had hinted.

Or it could be power. But it was not clear where her power would He.

"What the hell—!" Sybille exclaimed, and Nick looked toward the altar, following her gaze. They were in the nave of die church, the light a faint blue from the dark-blue vaulted ceiling painted with stars. The windows were of dark-blue stained glass set with abstract shapes of brightly colored glass like small explosions of light. There were as yet no pews, but the altar was finished: an expanse of warm pink marble with built-in planters for flowers and a pink marble pulpit with marble candlesticks on either side. Near the pulpit stood a tall man, his head back, inspecting the arched ceiling. He had a thin face, and his blond hair was a little long in back.

"What's the matter?" Chad asked. He had run up the nave and had just returned to Sybille and Nick.

"We've seen enough," Sybille said. "It's stifling in here."

"But there's some stairs," Chad said. "Couldn't we see where they go? It'd be great if there was a dungeon, like in the old days."

"No!" Sybille said sharply, but Chad had turned and was running up the nave again toward the altar. "Chad!" she shouted, and at that the man on the altar swung about.

"Sybille?" he called. He came down the broad marble steps and strode to them. As he came closer, he saw Nick, and slowed. "I didn't know you were bringing someone." He held out his hand. "Carl Ster-ling."

'*Nick Fielding." They shook hands.

"We were just leaving," Sybille said. "I promised Chad he could go riding this afternoon."

Carlton looked behind him, back toward the altar. "Chad. Your son?" he asked Nick. "I didn't make that connection. I don't think Val told me Chad's last name when she said Sybille had a son."

"Carl, we're leaving," Sybille said, an edge of desperation in her voice. "Call me tomorrow if you want to talk about the cathedral."

'Tour wife's name is Valerie?" Nick asked. "And she's a friend of Sybille's?"

"Yes, do you know her? Oh, of course, you probably do; you met Sybille at Stanford, didn't you? You'll have to get together one of these days; talk about old times—"

"Why not now?" Nick asked. His heart was pounding; he was filled with a crazy anticipation. He had not even thought of their meeting like this, accidentally, after so many years; he had never thought of the possibility that she and Sybille had kept in touch.

'What?" Carlton asked.

"Why don't we have lunch together?" Nick asked, his voice steady. "Do you live near here? We could pick up Valerie"—his voice caught on the unfamiliar sound of her name spoken aloud—"and go someplace nearby."

"That's not a good—"

"No," said Sybille flatly. "I have plans for later. Nick, if you want Chad to ride, you'll come now. I didn't plan to spend my Saturday wandering around the county—"

"Sybille's right, you know," Carlton said quickly. "Our weekends are busy and we don't do much socializing during the day. You and Chad could come down sometime if you want—you don't need to bring Sybille. You don't even need me there; just call Val and say you're coming. I'm sure she'd be pleased to see you."

"Then lefs do it now," Nick said. His rudeness and stubbornness amazed him, but he suddenly felt he did not want to wait another day. He did not want to come down at some vague time in the ftiture at Carlton's invitation; he did not want to show up alone on Valerie's doorstep. He wanted to see her; he wanted to see her now; he wanted to see her with other people around so they could call it a normal social occasion and he could banish this adolescent excitement he was feeling over a woman he had not seen for twelve years and had parted from in a quarrel.

"I'm buying lunch," he said firmly. "For old times' sake. I'd like to see Valerie again; I haven't seen her for a long time. We won't be more than a couple of hours, Sybille; I think that leaves plenty of time for Chad's ride."

Sybille stared at him, her light-blue eyes as flat as frozen ponds. She swung her look to Carlton, waiting for him to refuse once more; he had plenty of reason to. But he was silent, looking helplessly from her to Nick. A gentleman, Sybille thought contemptuously. Weak. Useless.

"If you want," she said, and walked up the nave and out of the church. Nick and Carlton looked at each other as Chad ran up. '7ust a basement," he said sadly. "No dungeons, not even a place to bury any princes. Only I guess in this church it would be a princess, wouldn't it?" He looked expectandy at Carlton, and Nick introduced them.

"We're going to lunch with Carl and his wife; it turns out she's an old friend of mine, from college."

Chad's face fell. "Can't I go riding?"

"Yes; after lunch. That was a promise. I hope you won't be too bored at lunch; we'll try to keep it short."

"Thanks," said Chad gravely. "Do you own horses, too?" he asked Carlton.

"Several," Carlton said. "I'll show them to you, if you like."

"That would be great. Is it far?"

"Not too far. Sterling Farms in Middleburg." He took a business card from his pocket. "I'll draw you a map," he said to Nick, and quickly sketched a few roads. "Half an hour at most. I'll see you there."

Sybille was standing beside Nick's car, staring into the distance. As they drove away, she spoke without looking at him. "I'd hoped we could have the whole day, the three of us."

"We'll have a good part of it," said Nick. He was feeling elated and a litde lightheaded, and he drove at high speed over the quiet roads. When he turned in at the stone gates with sterling farms embedded in bronze plates, he had a strange feeling of watching himself do something that would change his life. And then he was pulling up beside Carlton's car in the circular driveway. He had a quick impression of a wonderftil house, old and settled, before the front door opened and Valerie stood there, shading her eyes with her hand.

Nick leaped from the car and went to her. "It's good to see you," he said, and found her hand in his.

Chapter

17

I MM hey drove to the restaurant in separate cars, and,

^"^^ during the short trip, Nick still heard Valerie's low

^k ^ voice, as if she sat beside him. "So strange," she

\^^^^ ^^^ murmured as he held her hand at her front

door. "I never pictured you anywhere but California. Are you here for long?"

"We came out for the day. I'm living in Washington now." Her eyes widened. "Your whole life must have changed." "Several times," he said, and they exchanged a long, steady look. She was far lovelier, Nick thought, than the college girl he remembered. Her figure was as slender, her bearing as regal, but her tawny hair was more golden and less wild than in his memory. Twelve years had enhanced her beauty; it seemed to Nick that she was smoother, more finished, as if she were the center of a painting.

"Val, Nick wants to go to lunch," Carlton said. "Do we have time to go into town?"

"Yes." She was still looking at Nick. "I'd like that." She looked away, and saw Chad.

"My son," Nick said. "Chad Fielding, Valerie Sterling."

"I've wanted to meet you for a long time," Valerie said with a smile, and they shook hands.

"If we're going..." Sybille said brusquely, and then they all moved apart at once. Nick took Sybille and Chad in his car, and Valerie drove with Carlton, and in a few minutes they met again at the Windsor Inn, where they were led to a large round table in a room at the back, overlooking a garden.

The room was small and homey, paneled with dark woods, its tall draped windows set behind deep sills. A chandelier hung from the high ceiling, bookshelves extended above the doorways, and soft wing chairs surrounded the well-worn wood tables. A place for lovers, Nick thought. The Windsor Inn, perched on Middleburg's main street in the midst of the modem world, preserved the atmosphere and leisurely pace of an earlier time. It was a place for lovers to linger over dinner, talking in low tones and watching the dancing flames in the fireplace before ascending the stairs to the suites on the upper floor.

Instead, Nick sat at a round table near the fire with Sybille and Carlton Sterling on his right, Chad on his left, and, beside Chad, Valerie. When Nick glanced at her, their eyes met over Chad's head. More beautiftil, Nick thought again, but one thing was the same: she still shifted her position frequendy, and gestured as she spoke. He wondered if that was the restlessness he remembered or a new nervousness.

He wondered if she was happy.

"Sybille told me about her church at the hunt breakfast," Carlton was saying. "The day I wasn't feeling well and never got to the hunt. I've been meaning to look at it for months, and never had a chance until today. It's incredible, Val, especially the way it's all by itself, as if someone just set it down in the middle of the fields."

"It sounds incredible." Valerie put aside her menu. "What else will you have there, Sybille?"

"What else?" Sybille repeated sharply.

"You must have something in mind. I can't imagine you'd build a church in the middle of the fields and leave it there without building anything else. It sounds to me like the beginning of a town. Isn't that how it was done in Colonial times? First the church, then the school, then the town hall."

Sybille shook her head. "I built a church because I believe in Lily; I haven't thought beyond that."

There was a small silence. It made Carlton uncomfortable. "How was it built?" he asked. "Was it all donations? If your Lily did that, in

such a short time, she must be remarkable. I'll have to watch her sometime."

"It was all donations," Sybille said. "Seven million dollars so far, and we'll have the rest soon. Of course she's remarkable, even though Nick doesn't think so. He canceled her show."

"Not your style?" Carlton asked Nick.

"It isn't what I have in mind for our network," Nick replied briefly.

"What did you have in mind?" Valerie asked.

"Something tougher and more interesting. At least that's what we're trying to do. We won't appeal to everybody, but we'd rather do what we think we can do best, and what we don't do best are programs full of easy explanations. We'll have a lot of entertainment, a lot of history, a fair bit of science, book reviews, and some different kinds of news programs that, I hope, have more integrity than our competition."

"But not religion," Valerie said.

"Our own." He smiled. "We'll pray we make it against all the competition. But that's all. There are plenty of stations offering preachers for just about any belief you can think of, and that's fine with me. Sybille does what she does very well; it's just not for us."

"Even if they bring in big audiences?"

"The world is full of aucUences. All we can do is try to find the right one for us."

"I thought stations wanted to be right for the largest audience."

He smiled again. "We're trying to turn that around. We're putting ourselves and our ideas out there, and if there are any takers we'll do all right. If not, I may have to find another job."

'Tou mean you won't change your ideas or pretend to be something you're not," Valerie said.

Their eyes held. "I think we've had this discussion before," he said.

"We should order," Sybille cut in. She had been watching them as they spoke to each other. It was not possible that they would take up again after so long; she would not tolerate it. "If Chad wants to ride this afternoon, we'll have to hurry."

"Fine with me," Carlton said, gesturing to the waitress. "I don't want to stay long, either."

Nick turned to Chad. "Have you decided what you want for lunch?"

Chad nodded and looked up at the waitress. "Roasted peppers with goat cheese in oil, please, and chicken chausseur."

Carlton stared at him. Valerie's eyes danced. "I'll have the same. I like your taste."

"My dad taught me," Chad said. "We eat out a lot." He had been watching Valerie with fascination since the moment they met; she was so beautiful he wanted to look at her forever, and her voice was wonderful, low and soft—like a kiss, Chad thought, trying to find words to describe it; or like she was putting her arms around you and holding you tight.

"But doesn't your dad cook?" Valerie asked while the others were ordering. "He used to, when we were in college. He was the best cook I knew."

"Sometimes he does, but he's awfiil busy. Were you friends in col-lege.>"

'Tes. Good friends. We had a lot of fun together."

"So how come you aren't now?"

"We went different directions; your dad stayed in California and I moved to New York."

"But you could write letters."