The Golden Chance (32 page)

“I think we finally reached a compromise. I talked to Leighton in Purchasing and Contracts and he said Hewett was calming down.” Hilary moved over to the desk and glanced at the papers under Reed's glasses. They were just the Hewett papers, she saw with relief.

Reed nodded. “Old Henry Hewett has been with us from the beginning. He took a chance on us back when C&L couldn't even guarantee to pay its light bill. I'd hate to see us stop doing business with him now.”

“We won't.” Hilary smiled reassuringly. “I didn't realize you were interested in the outcome of the contract negotiations. The last time I mentioned it you didn't want to be bothered with those kinds of details.”

“I know.” Reed got to his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets. He wandered toward the window and stood looking out over the sweep of lawn. “But things change sometimes. I've been letting you carry most of the load around here for a long time. I'm sorry, Hilary. I shouldn't have pushed it all off on you. For a while I thought Burke was taking care of things.”

“He was.”

“But after he died, I should have stepped back in and taken the responsibility.”

Hilary propped one hip on the edge of the desk, her lizard-skin-shod foot swinging gently. “I wanted the responsibility. I needed it. We both know it saved my sanity. I would have been a basket case three years ago if I hadn't had the Lightfoot portion of the company to manage. C&L means everything to me, Reed.”

He nodded, not looking around. “You've worked god-damned hard.”

“I've given it everything I've got.” Her voice was tight with feeling. She tried to relax.

Reed nodded again, and this time he did turn around. “You're an amazing woman, Hilary. I have nothing but respect for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Reed walked out of the room.

Hilary closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Then she got up and went around to her chair. When she reached for the telephone, her fingers were trembling. She dialed the familiar number with great care. She should have thought of this sooner. Much sooner.

“Hello, Mrs. Gilford. Please put me through to Mr. Vellacott.”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Lightfoot. Mr. Vellacott is out of the office.”

The fool was probably playing tennis. He always ducked out to play tennis in the afternoons when he thought she wouldn't notice. She should have replaced Vellacott a year ago. But he had been useful precisely because he paid so little attention to details. Hilary stifled her impatience. “Tell him I want him to call me as soon as he gets in, will you?”

“Of course, Mrs. Lightfoot. How is your vacation going?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“We were all so pleased to see Mr. Lightfoot in the office the other day. It's been such a long time.”

The cold feeling in Hilary's stomach got worse. “Yes, it has, hasn't it? How long was he there, Mrs. Gilford?”

“Not long. Half an hour or less. Seemed anxious to get back to Port Claxton.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gilford. Don't forget I want to speak to Mr. Vellacott as soon as he gets into the office.”

“Of course.”

Hilary hung up the phone and forced herself to think clearly. Half an hour was not long enough for Nick to have gotten a locksmith in to open the safe. Even if he had, he could not have known what to look for in the first place. If he had gotten the safe open and found the Traynor file it would be meaningless to him. Just another file on another potential supplier. She was not stupid enough to leave anything incriminating lying around.

Hilary started to drum her long, peach-tinted fingernails on the polished surface of the desk and then caught herself. She stilled her hand.

It could not fall apart now, not when she was so close, she thought fearfully. All she had to do was keep it together until the August meeting.

But she was losing total control of the situation, and she sensed it. She probably did not have to worry too much about Darren and Vicky. Eleanor could keep them from wavering. But Reed was a different matter. She had been so sure he was not going to be a problem, but now she was no longer certain.

Reed hadn't shown any real interest in the company for so long she had convinced herself he would never again get involved. But, then, she had been certain Nick would never come back, either. She had been wrong on both counts.

It was not right. She deserved justice. She deserved vengeance. She would not allow herself to be defeated at this stage.

“Crissie,” she whispered softly, “if only you were still here. I need you. I need someone to talk to. Why couldn't Phila have been more like you?”

Something was happening to the whole plan; Hilary could feel it. Her instincts warned her that she had to control Reed. He was the biggest risk at the moment.

Hilary decided she had better have a talk with Eleanor.

“I always felt this room turned out the finest of all the rooms in both beach cottages.” Eleanor gazed around Reed's library, remembering the hours of planning and work she had put into this particular room. It had been very important to her that Reed's library be right.

“You did a goddamn good…I mean, you did a terrific job with it, Eleanor. Nora always said you had great taste.” Reed moved over to the butler's tray. “Can I get you something?”

Eleanor glanced at the clock. “Why not? It is after five, isn't it?”

“It's definitely after five. In fact, I think it's getting a little late all the way around.” Reed poured two brandies and carried one back to her.

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing. Just an idle comment.”

She took the glass from him and watched him seat himself in the wing-back easy chair. She had chosen that chair with great care, wanting it to be comfortable for him. He was a big man; he needed a strong, solid chair.

“Why did you want to talk to me today, Eleanor?” Reed asked after a moment.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“No, I don't. But I am curious.”

Eleanor gripped her glass. Reed was notorious about coming directly to a point. “The August meeting.”

“Ah.”

She looked at him. “Tell me the truth, Reed. Is Nick going to try to take over control of Castleton & Lightfoot at that meeting?”

“I think it's safe to assume he's going to attempt it.”

“The only way he can do it is with your help. Are you going to help him?” She could be as blunt as any Lightfoot, Eleanor told herself.

“What makes you think I'm the only hope he's got? Darren could back him or you could. With either of you on his side plus his own shares and Phila's, Nick could do just about anything he damn well pleased.”

“The Castletons, all of us, will back Hilary.”

Reed nodded. “You'll have to vote as you see fit.”

Eleanor leaned toward him. “We need her running things, Reed. The only other person we could even consider is you.”

Reed shook his head. “No. I'm not going to step back into that job. Not for all the tea in China. It was good while it lasted, but it's time to turn it over to someone younger. Life is so goddamned short, Eleanor. I don't want to spend the rest of mine behind a desk.”

“You want to spend it playing golf? Is that all you can think of these days?”

“No. Sometimes I think about grandkids.” Reed sipped his brandy. “I envy you, Eleanor. You have your son and you have little Jordan. That's more than I've had for quite a while now.”

“For better or worse, your son appears to have returned. The question is why and for how long?”

“I know. Interesting questions. I ask myself the same ones every day.”

“Reed, if he regains control of the company, you know what he'll do with it. He'll start moving away from the government contracts. He'll start pushing again for a broader consumer market. There's no telling how far he'll go with his changes this time. You and Burke won't be there to stop him. He'll have C&L designing home-entertainment centers, for heaven's sake. That's not the kind of business this company was founded upon. Ten years ago you and Burke would have refused even to consider going in that direction.”

“That was ten years ago and Burke is dead. I may be dead myself, one of these days.” Reed smiled.

“Don't talk like that.” The brandy glass trembled in her hand.

He frowned at her obvious alarm. “Hey, just kidding. I'm only trying to point out that what Burke and I wanted for the company ten, twenty or thirty years ago may not be what the next generation wants. And it's their company, Eleanor. The important thing is that C&L survive and that it stay in the families. Beyond that, Nick and Darren are welcome to do any damn thing they want with it as far as I'm concerned.”

“What about Hilary?” Eleanor asked, feeling desperate. “Where does she fit into all this? She has some rights, too.”

“Yes.” Reed took another swallow of brandy. “She has some rights. I'm not denying that.”

“She's given everything she has to C&L over the past three years.”

“I realize that.”

“Yet you're seriously thinking of backing Nick at the August meeting, aren't you?”

“I'm thinking about it, yes. That's all I'm doing at this point, Eleanor. Thinking about it.”

Eleanor forced herself to remain calm. “You'd do that, Reed? You'd back Nick? Knowing what he did to all of us three years ago?”

“Lately I've begun to wonder if we all might have misinterpreted what happened three years ago. In fact, I'm beginning to think we may have been fools three years ago.”

“It's all that woman's fault.” Eleanor whispered. “She started all of this.”

“Crissie Masters?”

Eleanor could barely bring herself to nod once in confirmation. She hoped she would not break down in front of Reed. It would be so terribly embarrassing. “Now we have Philadelphia Fox dropping into our lives, interfering with things that should never have concerned her in the first place.”

“I think that when all is said and done, I'm going to owe Philadelphia Fox,” Reed mused.

Eleanor looked up sharply. “Why do you say that?”

“No matter how you slice it, she's the one responsible for giving me back my son.”

“Don't give her too much credit. You don't have Nick back. Not really. Keep in mind, too, that a woman with her sort of background is only looking out for her own self-interest. What else could you expect from her type?”

“Nora used to say that you had a thing about people's backgrounds,” Reed commented. “I know yours is pretty fancy, but you've got to remember that mine isn't. Neither is my son's, when you get right down to it. We're just plain folks, Eleanor, even though you've done your best over the years. Plain folks can't look back too much. Nothing there to see. People like us tend to look to the future, not the past.”

Eleanor did not think she could take any more. She put down the brandy glass and got to her feet. “Please think very carefully about what you'll be doing to all of us if you back Nick.”

“Darren will do all right, even if Nick does take charge,” Reed said gently. “Don't you worry about that son of yours.”

That comment stopped her abruptly halfway to the door. “How do you know that?” Eleanor whispered.

“I've known him for as long as I've known my own son, remember? Darren's a lot tougher than Burke ever realized. Or maybe Burke did realize it and was afraid to admit his son would go farther than he had. I don't know the answer to that one, but I do know that if Darren really wants to be governor, he'll get the job, one way or the other. He's got all of Burke's strengths but none of his worst weaknesses, thank God. He's also got a lot of you in him. The part that toughs it out to the end, no matter what the price.”

Eleanor felt a curious warmth steal through her. “Burke never thought Darren would make it in politics or anything else,” she pointed out, knowing that what she was really asking for was more reassurance.

“Don't mean to speak ill of the dead. God knows Burke was my best friend and partner for over forty years. But I gotta be truthful with you, Eleanor. In some ways he was a horse's ass.”

Eleanor flinched. “Yes, he was, wasn't he?” she heard herself say just before her hand touched the doorknob.

“Thank you, Reed. Thank you for believing in my son.”

“Eleanor?”

“I'm glad you like this room, Reed,” she said quickly, before he could continue. “I worked very hard on it for you.”

“I know.” Reed got to his feet and stood looking at her across the width of the beautiful room. “I've always been comfortable in here.”

“Good.”

“Why did you spend so much time on my library, Eleanor?”

“Isn't it obvious? I designed these rooms, let's see, when was it? Thirty years ago?”

“Thirty-one years ago.”

“Yes. Well, no matter. I knew by then I'd married the wrong man, you see. I knew I was trapped and that I'd never have the man I loved. He was already very happy with someone else. But I wanted to do something for him. I wanted him to be comfortable in some small way and to know that I had been responsible for that comfort. I wanted him to think of me, if only for a second or two, each time he sat in that wing-back chair.”

She let herself out the door.

“Are you sure I look all right?” Phila stood in front of the mirrored wall of Nick's bedroom and examined her image for the hundredth time. “I feel weird in black. Like I'm supposed to be going to a funeral or something.” The dress was close fitting, accenting Phila's small waist. It was cut in an exquisitely simple style.

Nick stood behind her, tying his bow tie with practiced ease. “I'll admit it's not your best color.”

“I
do
look terrible,” Phila wailed, her worst fears confirmed. “I knew it. I tried to tell Vicky, but she insisted I buy it.”

Nick grinned at her in the mirror. “I'm just teasing. You look terrific. Vicky was right. The dress is very sophisticated. I'm going to be proud as hell to walk into that room tonight with you on my arm.”

“What's the bottom line here?” Phila demanded suspiciously.

“The bottom line is that I'm used to seeing you in shocking pink or Day-Glo orange, and somehow black just looks a little quiet on you, that's all.”

“Meaning I'm not the sophisticated type?”

“You really are looking for trouble tonight, aren't you?”

“I told you I didn't want to go with you to this thing.” She turned away from the mirror, knowing she was fussing too much. She should just accept the inevitable. She was going to go to Darren's fund-raiser because Nick had insisted she be there.

Phila was learning that when Nicodemus Lightfoot put his foot down about something, that foot was anything but light.

She collected the tiny black-and-silver purse Victoria had decreed was appropriate for the dress and stepped into the black evening pumps.

She had her reasons for being irritable and out of sorts tonight, and when the fund-raiser was over she would share the news with Nick. He would, no doubt, be vastly relieved. In the meantime, she had all she could do to deal with it herself.

“Ready?” Nick picked up his black tuxedo jacket.

“As ready as I'll ever be.” She turned around and found herself staring at him. “Very impressive,” she said at last.

The formal black-and-white evening clothes accentuated his powerful shoulders and the solidly built lines of his body. It made him appear deliciously dangerous, she thought.

“You look like you're seeing a whole new side of me,” Nick murmured.

Phila grinned. “Actually, you look like a gangster. All you need is a red rose in your lapel and a bulge under your arm where your shoulder holster is supposed to be.”

“And you look like a sexy little vamp.” Nick tilted her chin with his forefinger and kissed the tip of her nose. “Let's go before I change my mind and decide to let you jump me.”

“I didn't even know you were weighing a decision in that regard. I thought we had to go to this thing.”

“Stop whining. We do have to go to this thing.” Nick turned off the bedroom lights. “We'll save the jumping for later.”

Phila grumbled and then automatically inhaled the magnificent view as they walked through the living room. The late-summer sun was disappearing slowly, bathing Elliott Bay and the islands in a warm, yellow glow.

“Heck of a view,” Phila said. “You must have missed this place while you were living in California.”

“I did miss it. I don't think I realized just how much until now.”

“This is certainly a fancy condominium. Great location, great view, all the amenities. First-class urban design. I wonder how many low-income housing units were demolished so the developers could build this sucker.”

Nick chuckled. “Save your energy. I'm not going to let you make me feel guilty about living here. I earned every square inch of this place. Just for your information, however, the building that used to be on this site was an old, abandoned warehouse. A real eyesore. Does that make you feel better?”

“Much.” She took one last look around at the refined collection of polished antique furniture. “Have the Lightfoots and Castletons always gone for the Early Constitution look?”

“You don't like the interior design of this place?”

Phila shrugged. “Kind of dark. Needs some color.”

Nick glanced around as he turned off the lights. He smiled. “I wondered about that myself.”

By the time Nick and Phila arrived, a well-heeled, well-dressed crowd had already gathered in the large reception room at the top of the sleek downtown high-rise. Phila looked around warily as she walked through the door on Nick's arm. The room was full, she noted. Darren must be pleased. The lively hum of voices was interrupted here and there by an occasional laugh and the clink of ice in glasses.

A formally dressed trio of musicians played Mozart in one corner, and waiters carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres and drinks circulated through the crowd. The panorama of Seattle and its bay was spread out far below, magnificently showcased through huge windows. The last gleam of sunlight glanced off the Olympics.