Past Tense (14 page)

“It was, for half the evening,” he insisted. She heard the deep inhalation of his breath. When he spoke next, he sounded calmer. “What did Allen say about the latest incident? Damn, I don’t even know what it was.”

She was truly awake by now. Sitting up in the bed, she raked her tangled hair back with one hand. “Ketchup in the soap dispenser. Just your ordinary Friday the Thirteenth kind of joke. Nothing life threatening.”

“And since?”

“Nothing’s happened. But as you pointed out, I haven’t been here.”

“Well, I may have something. Do you know anything about Québec Separatists?”

“What? I thought that sort of thing died out years ago. Wasn’t it in the early Seventies that there was such a fuss? What does that have to do with Bennett or what’s going on now?”

“I’m not sure,” Tony said. “So Bennett never mentioned where his sympathies might lie?”

“Never.” Sam was positive. They’d never discussed politics.

“I have to talk to you, Sam,” Tony said. “It’s too complicated to go into on the phone. When can I see you?”

“Monday.” She thought for a moment. “Yes, I should be back some time Monday.”

“Monday!” Tony’s bellow could have reached her without the electronic assistance of the telephone. “It can’t wait until Monday.”

“Well, it will have to. I’m going to Paris with Aunt Olivia for the weekend.”

“Aunt Olivia?
Your
aunt Olivia?”

“My aunt Olivia. Who else would it be? I told you she was in London. She’s at the Grosvenor. I got a note from her through Mr. Collins and I phoned her. She’s the perfect person to tell me what’s been going on with Bennett.”

“I guess that means you’re out of hiding for good.” He sounded oddly subdued.

“There wasn’t much point any more, was there? Look, Tony, I have to get to work if I’m to finish up the job today. That’s why I stayed so late last night.”

“It’s dangerous at night on the buses or the Tube.”

“Tony.” Her voice rose in exasperation. “I took a taxi home. The professor insisted. And you weren’t available the other night. I
can
manage my own life. I always have.”

“So that’s what this is about. I should have come over Tuesday night.” The statement with rich with meaning.

“As it turned out, I handled it without you. Goodbye, Tony. Ring me Monday.”

Gently she hung up, cutting off his shout of frustration. The phone immediately began to ring again, but she shut out the sound by going into the shower and turning on the water. Tony had to learn that she hadn’t relinquished control of her life to him just because he’d offered a sympathetic shoulder once or twice.

She was strong. She could handle it herself.

Then why did she feel like crying?

* * * *

In spite of the ninety-minute delay caused by stacked flights at Heathrow, Samantha and Aunt Olivia arrived in Paris in time for lunch on Friday. Checking into the hotel where Olivia had made reservations for two single rooms took only moments.

“This hotel?” Sam asked in dismay as Aunt Olivia signed the register with a flourish.

“Of course, my dear. Haven’t I always stayed here? It may be under new management, but I understand the standards are as high as ever. I wouldn’t dream of staying anywhere else.”

Neither would Sam, under ordinary circumstances. She also had enjoyed the pleasant, refined atmosphere of the Paris Etoile on several occasions, the first time as a child of ten in the company of Aunt Olivia. But the Paris Etoile had become the Worldwide Etoile, part of the company division Tony managed. It made her feel strange to stay in one of Tony’s hotels, especially after her abrupt dismissal of him the last time they’d spoken.

“It’s all right, isn’t it?” Aunt Olivia’s firm voice told Sam she had no patience with arguments. And Sam acquiesced. Her objections were too nebulous to put into words, and in any case, she hadn’t told her aunt about Tony.

“We’ll go out for lunch now,” Olivia continued. “The concierge will see that our cases are taken to our rooms.”

“How is Bennett?” Sam asked when they were seated in the sunny courtyard of a restaurant that was also a favorite of Olivia’s.

“He’s held up surprising well considering his desolation when he realized you’d left.”

Desolation? Sam almost laughed. Desolation was not an emotion she associated with Bennett Price. But if that was how he’d chosen to display his disappointment in public, so be it.

He must have wanted their marriage very badly. For the money? She shook her head behind the menu the waiter placed in her hands. She couldn’t figure it. Bennett had stood to gain very little from her in that area.

Aunt Olivia, usually a nonstop talker, showed no sign of elaborating as she perched her reading glasses on her nose and perused her own menu. Sam tried one more tack. “His business is going well, I take it?”

“Hmm? ”Olivia inclined her head around the tall menu, peering over the half frames of her glasses. “Oh. Oh, yes, his business is doing very well. I think I’ll have the seafood salad.”

“I’ll have the same,” Sam said without having read a word.

“And a bottle of champagne,” Olivia ordered as the waiter picked up the menus. “We have to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Why, our finding you, of course. We missed you, Samantha. We’ll be glad to have you back.”

Samantha stared at her. “I haven’t said I’m going back.”

“You must suit yourself, Samantha, but we love you. And Montréal is your home.”

Was there a hidden meaning behind the words? Sam wondered. Her feeling that something was off strengthened. Olivia, always lively and restless, seemed more highly strung than usual, one moment chattering about people they both knew, the next falling into an introspective silence that wasn’t at all like her.

People didn’t change that much in six months, did they? Outwardly Olivia looked the same, her artfully coifed blonde hair gleaming, her smooth skin belying her fifty years even in the sunlight.

Olivia leaned forward. “We must do some shopping this afternoon, Samantha. Why did you leave all your good clothes behind?” She waved her hand. “No matter, you need some new things anyway.” Her smile widened. “It’ll be like old times, the two of us taking the shops by storm.”

After the work she’d put in during the past week, and the upheavals her life had undergone in the same time period, shopping was the last thing on Sam’s mind, but she smiled and graciously agreed. She hadn’t the heart to disappoint her aunt.

The Champs Elysées was bathed in a golden sunset by the time they returned to the hotel laden with parcels and bags. Olivia wore the look of a woman who has taken on the world of merchandising and won. Sam’s feet ached. She didn’t need all the clothes her aunt had pressed on her and insisted on paying for.

“What’s the family fortune for, if not to spend on nice things?” she’d said in answer to Sam’s protests.

It was the old days all over again, and for a time Sam allowed herself to wallow in pleasant nostalgia. But as they rode up to their rooms, her earlier uneasiness flooded back.

Not once had Olivia asked for the story behind Sam’s abrupt flight. Sam would have thought she’d be dying of curiosity. With no mother and a distant father, Olivia was the one Sam had always confided in as a teenager—not quite a parent, but more dependable than a friend. Sam knew her aunt. Olivia had a boundless inquisitiveness about human relations, especially when it concerned those nearest to her.

The elevator door slid open. “Don’t you want to know what happened with Bennett and me?” Sam blurted.

Olivia eyed her with nothing more than mild interest. “You’re an adult now, Samantha. I wouldn’t dream of poking into your affairs. Do you have your key? Here are our rooms. Shall we meet in an hour or so? I’ve made reservations in the restaurant downstairs. They have a new chef, who is considered one of the best in Paris.” She patted Sam’s shoulder. “An hour, then.”

Sam blew out a long breath as she closed the door of her room. Was it possible that her aunt Olivia had been cloned, and that they’d left out some vital ingredient? Something didn’t add up. And she wasn’t learning anything about Bennett’s present feelings toward her or whether he was behind the incidents.

The large bouquet of red roses on the bureau caught her eye as she pushed away from the door. The aroma hung in the air, heavy and sweet. Sam’s skin suddenly quivered with an odd sense of foreboding.

She walked across the room, her feet dragging on the dense carpet. Nestled among the blossoms was a white envelope. Her fingers shook as she tore it open.

The words were typed in stark black letters: “Time is running out.”

Chapter Ten

The room faded to a frightening gray swirl that spun around her. Sam’s nerveless fingers lost their grip on the card and it fluttered to the carpet.

Even here, she’d been followed. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the flowers across the room.

Instead she gulped in several deep breaths and backed slowly toward the door. Jerking the handle, she opened it and fled down the hall to her aunt’s room.

“Aunt Olivia, let me in.” She banged her fist against the heavy oak panels. “Let me in.”

The door opened so abruptly that Sam almost fell inside.

“What is it, child?” Olivia frowned as she reached for a robe.

“The roses,” Sam gasped. The trembling started in her knees and quickly tracked up her body, leaving in its wake a clammy sweat.

“Roses?” To Sam’s amazement Olivia smiled. “Wasn’t that kind of the management to send us roses?”

Sam’s eyes widened as she saw the vase on her aunt’s bureau. White roses. “The management?” she stammered, forcing the words past the constriction in her throat. “But the note—”

“Note?” Olivia’s brow creased as she fastened her robe over her slip. “There was no note.”

“There was with mine.”

Olivia pulled open the door. “Show me.”

The door to Sam’s room still stood ajar, but the room was undisturbed. Sam’s handbag lay on the bed where she’d dropped it. The fragrance of the red roses scented the air.

“Where is this note?” Olivia demanded as Sam came to a halt in the center of the room.

Frantically she searched every corner, her gaze skittering around the room. “It’s gone. It’s not here.” Her shoulders slumped. Was she going crazy?

Aunt Olivia wrapped an arm around Sam’s back and led her to the bed, sitting down beside her. “Samantha, you seem overwrought. Have you been working too hard?”

Working too hard. If only that were the problem. With an effort Sam gathered her composure. “There was a note, but it’s gone now.”

“What did the note say?” Olivia asked gently.

“’Time is running out.’”

“Sounds like something out of a fortune cookie.” Aunt Olivia gave a tinkling laugh. “It’s probably somebody’s idea of a joke.” She laughed again, and gave Sam an arch look. “I saw the young man at the desk looking at you. I think you’ve made a conquest.”

It was tempting to dismiss the incident, and Sam could have if it had been an isolated case. But in the context of the past week, she couldn’t ignore the implied threat. Yet, without the note and in the face of her aunt’s disbelief, she had no proof of anything.

“Yes, it probably was a joke.” She drew away from Olivia’s embrace, forcing herself to smile. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll be ready shortly.”

Olivia walked toward the door, looking back at Sam briefly with an indulgent smile. “Take your time. And then come to my room. I’m sure a good dinner will fix you up.”

* * * *

In the dining room the headwaiter greeted Olivia like an old friend, and led them to an excellent table by the windows. Samantha glanced around as they waited for their drinks. The room was half empty, lit by chandeliers that reflected from the glass.

“We missed you, Samantha.” Olivia leaned back in her chair after sipping her gin and tonic. “Bennett was almost beside himself when he returned from his business trip and found you gone.”

What business trip? It was on the tip of Sam’s tongue to ask, but instead she said, “I left him a letter.”

“A short note saying that you couldn’t go through with the wedding is hardly an explanation.” Olivia’s tone remained mild, but Sam heard the censure in the words. “And then six months of nothing more than an odd postcard from Nice. Have you been in London the whole time?”

Sam took a fortifying swallow of her spritzer and wished she’d ordered something stronger. “Almost.”

“And you didn’t let us know.”

“As you said, Aunt Olivia, I’m an adult. I needed to be on my own for a while.” She paused, her eyes on the bubbles erupting from the surface of her drink as she leaned back in her chair. “Aunt Olivia, is Bennett still in London?”

For an instant Olivia appeared startled, her hand pausing in midair as she lifted her glass. She drank from it, her eyes guarded as she looked at Sam over the rim. “How did you know Bennett was in Europe?”

“I talked to James Michaels a few days ago. He happened to mention it.”

“Well, I may be having a holiday, but for Bennett it’s strictly business. Samantha, you know you let him down. And made yourself look like a fool in the process.”

Samantha stared at her aunt. Olivia had never spoken to her in this manner. “Isn’t it better to look like a fool before the wedding than end up in a divorce court later?” she asked tightly. “I’d think you’d be glad I realized it wouldn’t work before we actually married.”

“Why couldn’t you go through with it? You broke off two previous engagements. I was sure this time you knew what you were doing.”

Sam’s fingers clenched on the stem of her glass. Knowing that there was some justification for her aunt’s words, she muttered, “Maybe I’ll never marry.”

An image of Tony flashed through her mind. She quickly banished it. She’d thought he might break her unfortunate cycle of attracting the wrong men, but even that hopeful beginning seemed to be dying under pressure.

“It’s not too late,” Aunt Olivia said. “You can still marry Bennett. He would forgive and forget.”

Would he? Sam thought cynically. But why her? She couldn’t see him as sentimental. It had to be the money.