Caught in a Bind (14 page)

It was abdication pure and simple. At least the Duke of Windsor had run because of the “woman I love.” Mr. Montgomery just ran.

And, I thought ruefully, it is my great joy to work for this man.

I looked at Mac, who was watching Mr. Montgomery’s exit with resignation and sorrow on his face. Obviously he felt his goose had just been cooked, and I was afraid he might be right. The unfair thing was that Mac was innocent of any responsibility for the chaos.

I caught his eye and smiled with sympathy.

He sighed, shrugged and took a deep breath. He turned to Edie and hunkered down beside her.

“Hey, Edie.” He took her hand in his and began rubbing it. “Can you hear me?”

When she groaned and started to move, he said, “Shh. You stay nice and quiet. Help’s on its way. Merry called the ambulance for you.” He sat beside her, talking quietly and soothing her, until the ambulance arrived.

In the meantime I hustled the hysterical Sherrie back to my desk and pushed her gently down into my chair.

“How could he? How could he?” she kept saying over and over again. She looked shocked, her eyes wide and tear-filled.

I went down on my knees and threw my arms around her, holding her, patting her back. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. I wasn’t certain she would hear me anyway.

Eventually the tempest eased somewhat though she was still hyperventilating when I called Stephanie.

“I’ll be there in less than five minutes,” Stephanie said.

After I hung up, I knelt before Sherrie again and pushed her hair back off her forehead. Her face was flushed and her hands shook.

“It’ll be all right,” I said, trying to comfort her. “Mrs. Whatley will be fine. You’ll see.”

She shuddered violently at my words. “No, it won’t be all right even if Mrs. Whatley is fine.” Her eyes overflowed with a new sea of tears, and I suspected that a lot of her own past, a past she probably thought she had licked, was flashing before her eyes. Her sorrow broke my heart.

“Tomorrow we’ll try again to talk, okay?” I said for want of anything better to say. “It’s even more important now, don’t you think?”

Sherrie mumbled something that sounded like an affirmative. Then after a mighty sniff, she said clearly, “Is he still here?”

I nodded as I glanced at a distraught Randy. “He’s very upset.”

“Good!” She kept her eyes fixed on the floor so she wouldn’t accidentally see him. “He should be.”

Randy looked terrible, all white and wide-eyed, as he stared first at his mother, then at Sherrie. I wasn’t certain which bothered him the most: his mother’s injury at his hand or the blighting of his romance with Sherrie, again at his own hand.

“I’m sorry, Sherrie,” he whispered a few minutes later in an anguished voice as, head down and taking care not to look his way, she left with her mother. “I’m so sorry.”

“You ought to be, boy,” William Poole said as he walked to Randy and took his arm. His voice was devoid of sympathy, and his eyes drilled a hole right through Randy. “And now you need to come with me.” He reached toward his belt like he was going for his cuffs.

“No!” Randy looked frantic. “I don’t have to! Mom? Do I?”

Edie lay on the floor, the emergency techs strapping her to a backboard. Her neck was already in a cervical collar. “Oh, Randy,” she sighed and a tear tumbled out of her eye and rolled back into her hairline.

Randy sank to the floor beside her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you! It was an accident!”

“Was it?” William asked coldly.

“Mom! Tell him! It was just that something came over me. I couldn’t help it!” He grabbed for her hand, but one of the techs reached out and restrained him. Randy looked distractedly at the tech, then back to his mother. He balled his large fists awkwardly on his knees.

“The something that came over you, boy, is your own lack of self-control.” William was giving him no quarter. “And the sooner you admit that you’re the one to blame, the better off you and your mother will be.”

“No,” Randy cried. “I didn’t mean—”

“Sure you did.” William glared at him. “I’ve seen your kind for years, and you make me sick.”

Edie made a protesting sound at the harsh words, and William looked at her, his gaze gentling. “Edie, don’t be easy on him, or there’s a lifetime of this treatment awaiting you and some woman foolish enough to marry him someday.”

Edie smiled at him sadly and nodded. “I know,” she whispered. “But he’s my son.”

“Don’t let that get in the way of what needs to be done.”

Edie looked at Randy again. Then she shut her eyes in pain. “Do whatever you need to, William.”

“No, Mom! I love you. I do! I’m sorry.” Randy’s eyes were red, his nose was running and he looked more like five than fifteen.

“That’s just what your father used to say, Randy.” Edie looked hopelessly at the ceiling. “You’re becoming just like him, and it breaks my heart.”

“No! No, I’m not!” He grabbed for Edie’s hand again, and this time he connected. “Don’t say that! Please! I promise, I’m not!”

Edie smiled wanly at him and said nothing.

“Randy.” Mac lowered himself to Randy’s eye level. “We all care for your mother a lot, from Sergeant Poole to all the
News
staff. That you would dare touch her in anger upsets all of us. Not only were your actions morally reprehensible, but assault and battery is against the law.”

“Assault and battery!” Randy couldn’t believe his ears.

“What else would you call it if not that?” Mac asked quietly.

“Get up, son. We’re leaving.” William put a hand beneath Randy’s arm and lifted.

It seemed impossible, but Randy’s face turned paler, and he clung to Edie’s hand.

I didn’t know whether William could or would actually do
something official to Randy or if he was just trying a scare-him-straight type of thing. Either way, I thought Randy was a thoroughly broken young man, and I was pleased to see it.

Ah, God, use this to make something of him. May he turn to you for help
.

“William, may I see You for a minute? Alone?” I motioned him to my desk.

He released Randy. “Don’t you move.”

Randy nodded, compliant. He was taller, younger and undoubtedly fleeter of foot than William, but all fight was gone. Besides, where would he have fled?

William walked across the room. “Yes?”

“He’s underage and has no other family in town. If you need somewhere for him to stay tonight—you know, if they keep Edie at the hospital—he can come to my place. The sofa will be fine for one night.”

“You’re not afraid he’ll hit you?”

I looked across the room at the boy in question. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anyone so contrite, so forlorn. “Should I be?”

William gave a sad smile. “I don’t think so. I just hope this is the kid’s wake-up call. His mom’ll forgive him even if the girl won’t. He can still recoup things nicely if he’s got a mind to.” He looked at me. “But I’m not going to make it easy for him. I’m going to make him squirm.”

“Just call me if you need me.”

Finally only Jolene, Mac and I remained, and Jolene didn’t stay long. She was itching to get home.

“Wait until Reilly hears! He thinks my job’s dumb.” She cracked her gum in delight. “This’ll show him!”

I looked at Jo. The woman never ceased to amaze me at the way she saw things, always slightly skewed. Here I was, emotionally drained, and she was as perky as a high school cheerleader. All that was missing were the somersaults and splits.

“I don’t think he thinks your job is dumb.” Mac looked more weary than I’d ever seen him. “He thinks that you having a job is dumb.”

“You mean because of the lottery money?” Jo asked. Mac nodded. “Twenty-five thousand dollars a month for twenty years makes the idea of working as a general assistant at the
News
sort of redundant, doesn’t it? It’s not like you need the money.”

“Well, I’ve got to do something with my life,” Jolene said. “I can’t just sit around all day getting my nails done. I mean I could, but come on. How boring is that!”

“What do you do with it all?” Mac asked, blatant curiosity compelling the question.

Jolene just looked at him. “That’s a very personal question.”

“And you won’t answer it?”

She nodded and shot him with her forefinger. “You got it.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the back door. “See you tomorrow.”

I listened to their exchange as a brilliant, beautiful Easter lily of an idea, fragrant with possibilities, blossomed. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. I just had to figure out how to pull it off without Jolene realizing she was being manipulated.

I left the hospital parking lot at 9 p.m. Edie was resting comfortably, and I hoped I soon would be too. I was driving on empty, both literally and figuratively.

The first problem was easy to fix, and I stopped at the gas station at Eighth and Main. The latter was also fixable, I realized, and I headed for Intimations. All I had to do was share my Audubon story with Curt, and I’d immediately feel better. He’d congratulate me and give me a great hug and kiss, and I could forget Edie’s pain and Sherrie’s tears and Randy’s
white face and bask in the glow of my love’s approval. Already I felt brighter, refreshed.

I was grinning as I pulled up in front of the gallery and parked behind Curt’s car. I looked at the quietly elegant sign over the door, unlit since the grand opening had not yet occurred, then at the picture tastefully displayed in the window— Curt’s latest from which prints had been made. The picture was softly lit, its deep red barn and silo glowing in a setting sun that streaked the evening sky with soft pearl pinks and mauves.

I had to admit, albeit unwillingly, that Delia knew what she was doing. Intimations looked great. I sighed. I’d have liked it better if I could be mad at her for pulling Curt and his work down to some tacky level that diminished his abilities and threatened his reputation. The truth of the matter was just the opposite. She was going to be a professional godsend.

I walked to the front door. As I expected, it was locked. I knocked loudly, but got no answer. I peered through the door into the gallery, dark and falling away into black shadows except where dim light seeped in from a streetlamp. Way in the back of the room I saw a sliver of light peeking out from the bottom of a door. The workroom, I guessed.

I knocked again as loudly as I could and didn’t stop until the closed door at the rear of the gallery opened and a woman dressed all in black emerged. As soon as she pulled the door closed behind her, all that showed was a glimmer of blond hair gliding across the gallery toward me.

She opened the gallery door a scant two inches, her elegant face set in a winsome, friendly cast.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed.” Her voice was gracious, her smile warm. “Please come back Wednesday night for our grand opening.”

“Thanks.” I smiled with equal grace and charm. “I’m looking for Curt Carlyle.”

Her eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments as she suddenly recognized me.

“I’m sorry. Curt’s not here.”

“Sure he is. That’s his car.”

She followed my pointing finger with her eyes. Her lips compressed ever so slightly.

“It’s not that he’s not here.” She backpedaled with an agility that came from long practice and made me wonder how seriously afflicted she was in the truth-versus-misleading-statements department. “It’s more that he’s not available.” Again the smile, but all the charm was now gone. “He’s working.”

I nodded. “I’m sure he is.”

“And he can’t be disturbed.” It was like she dared me to contradict her.

I accepted the dare. “Please tell him that Merry’d like to see him for a minute.”

I knew she wanted to tell me to get lost, but she was saved from such gauche behavior when the rear door opened and Curt, bathed in a swath of light, stepped into the gallery.

“Hey, Delia, I’ve got an idea for the—”

“Curt!” I called before Delia slammed the door in my face.

“Merry?” His voice held both surprise and pleasure. It was all I could do not to look at Delia and smirk. He hurried across the room. “Hey, darlin’ girl, how are you?”

Delia had no choice but to step back and let me in.

Curt covered the distance between us quickly and came to a stop well inside my private space. I was delighted to have it invaded, especially with Delia watching.

“I’ll be in the back, Curt.” Her voice was cool and impersonal for the most part, but in the end she couldn’t quite keep her claws sheathed. “Don’t be long. We don’t want to waste too much time.”

I think it was the slight emphasis on
waste
that made me look at her and smile sweetly enough to give cotton candy a run for its money. Mac would have ground his molars if he’d seen.

“We won’t be long,” Curt said as he took my hand. He found it full of my car keys and house keys. Without a second thought he took them from me and slid them into his pocket. Then he took my hand again and pulled me in for a quick hug.

Since he stood with his back to the rear door, he didn’t see Delia pause in the doorway and turn. Of course if he had been facing her, the glare she leveled at me would have been a soft smile, I’m sure.

“You’ll never guess what I learned today,” I said, dismissing Delia Big Deal-ia as unworthy of my thoughts at the moment.

“You mean you didn’t come just to see me?” Curt asked.

“Well, yes.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested against his chest. “But I’ve got big news too.”

“Me too. You should see how things are coming together for the opening. Delia really knows her business. And tomorrow—”

I pulled back enough to see his shadowed face. “Tom Whatley isn’t really Tom Whatley,” I said dramatically.

“Tomorrow,” he continued as if I hadn’t said a word, “Delia’s taking me to some big lunch down in Philadelphia where I’ll meet not only people from the art community in Center City but several down from New York.”

“Nice,” I said. “But listen. Tom Whatley is dead and our Tom Whatley is really Tom Willis. Edie’s been married to an imposter!”

“I thought it would take me years to meet some of these people, if ever. Amhearst isn’t exactly the center of the art world, you know, and these people aren’t readily accessible
to any old person. Imagine if I got my work hung in some New York galleries!” His eyes gleamed in the dim light at the wonder of it all.