Envy (28 page)

"His muse has flown."

"Nothing that mystical. He's being his stubborn and mule-headed self. Like any mule, he requires prodding." She hesitated before adding,

"So I'm going back."

"Really? When?"

"I'm on my way to the airport now."

"I see."

"I only stopped by to check on you, tell you good-bye, and to hear your opinion of what you've read so far."

She had postponed her departure for a week.

After catching Noah in Nadia Schuller's apartment, it was a foregone conclusion that she would return to Georgia and see Parker again.

Her husband's affair had given her a green light to examine her ambiguous and conflicting

#feelings for Parker. But in order to be ####483

fair to him, and to herself, she had delayed going until she had thought it through from every angle. She didn't want her return to be a knee-jerk reaction to a rapid series of shocking developments in her life. She didn't want it to be the reaction of an angry and vindictive wife. Rather, she wanted it to be an action taken after days of careful consideration.

For the past seven days, she had thought of little else.

She had been terribly angry at Parker the morning she left, but the truth of the matter was she hadn't wanted to leave. She could admit that now.

And every moment since her leaving, she had wanted to be with him again.

Initially, guilt had burned inside her like a live coal. She was married. She had made a commitment at the wedding altar, and she had regarded it a lifetime pledge. All her marriage vows she had taken seriously.

But apparently she had been the only one standing at the altar that day who had. Noah had broken his vows. For all she knew, Nadia wasn't the first woman with whom he had cheated. He had certainly had no shortage of girlfriends prior to his marriage. It was possible he had never changed his pattern of behavior from that of a bachelor to that of a married man. He had willfully chosen to be unfaithful to her. She would just as willfully choose to end the marriage.

By taking a lover, he had squandered the right and the privilege to be her husband.

But even if she hadn't caught him with Nadia, she would be leaving him. That night on the sidewalk in Chelsea, Noah had revealed an aspect of himself that appalled, repelled, and frightened her. She would not live another day with a man who hinted at violence so effectively that she believed him capable of it. Their marriage was over. Noah Reed was her past.

What she needed to determine was if Parker Evans was her future.

She could no longer ignore or deny her attraction to him. It wasn't strictly his intellect and talent that appealed to her, as she had tried to delude herself into believing. She was attracted to him, the man. Countless times she had fantasized kissing him again, having his hands on her, having her mouth on him.

###She didn't even know if he was ######485

capable of making love in the conventional sense, but it didn't matter. She wanted to touch him and to be touched. She wanted to be intimate with him on whatever level and by whatever means it could be achieved.

While married she never would have acted on that desire. During her courtship and marriage, she had never looked at another man or thought of one in a sexual context, which had made her spontaneous attraction to Parker all the more disturbing.

During her return flight to New York, she had convinced herself that the island was responsible for the romantic yearnings she had experienced there and that once she was back in familiar territory, they would stop. By the time the plane touched down at La Guardia, she had persuaded herself that the rift between her and Noah was curable, that the temporary lull in their marriage had left her open to fanciful daydreams that would vanish the moment their dozing passion was reawakened.

She had talked herself into believing that with a little ingenuity on her part she could revive their love life and feel again the exhilaration and excitement she had when she left the church on Noah's arm as his bride.

What a naive strategy that had been!

It made her angry now that she had been willing to assume all the responsibility for their marriage being out of sorts. How could she have been so gullible? Did everyone except her know about Noah's affair? The people with whom they both worked every day--had they known? Was she a comically tragic figure, the last-to-know wife? The staff must have thought, _Poor _Maris, as she toiled away at book publishing while her husband periodically slipped out for an illicit rendezvous with his mistress.

Noah had his adversaries among the staff, but he also had his allies, people he had pirated from the publisher with which he'd been formerly affiliated.

Divorcing him would be easy compared to disassociating him from Matherly Press.

Which brought her to the next hurdle she must face: informing Daniel of their split.

She would postpone it for as long as possible. It would come as a double blow for him. He would be losing not only his son-in-law, but his protégé.

Maris was confident that her father was strong enough to handle

#it, as he had handled all the other ########487

setbacks and disappointments in his life, but she saw no point in upsetting him prematurely.

However, until the time came when it was necessary for him to know, it was going to be a challenge to keep up the pretense that everything was normal.

He was watching her now with his unsettling intuitiveness. It was hard not to squirm under the direct gaze. "So what do you think, Dad?"

"About the book? I think it's very good. Speaking as a publisher, I would prod the author to complete it."

"Then I guess I'm off." She stood up and began pulling on her raincoat.

"What does Noah think?"

"He hasn't read it yet."

"I wasn't referring to the manuscript, Maris. What does he think of your going away to spend more time with this writer?"

"I don't need his permission." Seeing that he was taken aback by the sharpness of her tone, she amended it. "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"Apology accepted. I don't presume to interfere with your personal life. It's just that

..."

"Don't stop there. You've come this far."

He reached for her hand. "It's just that I remember well when you fell in love with a book, and then with the author."

She gave him a faint smile. "Is that what you're thinking? That I've got a schoolgirl's crush on this writer?"

"It wouldn't be for the first time."

"I'm older and wiser now." She stopped herself from saying, __I've learned my _lesson. "This book, this author, have nothing to do with Noah and our marriage. Nothing whatsoever."

That was the truth. Her marriage was over whether or not she ever saw Parker Evans again. Had she never heard of Parker or _Envy, her marriage would have ended. It would have ended because her husband was false and their marriage a sham.

"So Noah's agreeable to your going?"

Noah's feelings on the matter seemed very important to her father. But they wouldn't be if he knew the whole story. She was tempted to roll up her sleeves and show him the bruises on her arms that even a week's time hadn't faded. She could tell him how she'd spat blood for an hour

#after biting her tongue. What if she #####489

repeated Noah's harsh threats, using the same sinister inflection that had been almost more alarming than the words themselves? Her father would be as shocked as she had been. He would be ready to find Noah and mete out punishment with his own hand.

That's why she wouldn't expose Noah to him now. She would save it for a day when she had things more sorted out in her own mind, when she wasn't on her way out of town, when she had a workable plan for Matherly Press as well as her personal life. Until she had answers already in place in her own mind, she wouldn't detail the problems to her father.

Instead, she looked him straight in the eye and, for the first time in her life, lied to him. "Yes.

He's agreeable."

He took her face between his hands and kissed her on both cheeks. "What time is your flight?"

"I've barely got time to make it."

Plagued by guilt for lying to him, she embraced him tightly. She squeezed her eyes closed and wasn't surprised to feel tears in them.

"You're my best friend, Dad. I love you very much."

"And I love you, Maris." He set her away from him so he could look into her face. "More than you could ever know."

CHAPTER 21

Parker answered the door. For several moments he looked at her blankly. Finally he said,

"Did you forget something?"

"Very cute."

"Thank you."

"Are you going to ask me in?"

He hesitated as though thinking it over, then pushed his chair backward into the foyer, giving her room to step inside. "Where's Mike?"

"He went to the mainland for groceries, toilet paper, stuff like that."

"And left you here alone?"

"I'm not helpless," he said in what amounted to a snarl. "I lived by myself before Mike came onboard. Besides, I'm not alone."

__He was with a _woman.

Maris realized now that all the signs were there.

Mike was away. Parker's shirt was

unbuttoned, and his hair was more disheveled than

#usual. "I'm sorry. I ... I ####491

should have called before I came."

"Yeah, you should have," he said crossly. "But since you've made the trip, you might just as well come on in. We're in here."

He wheeled his chair around and rolled it into the dining room. Reluctantly Maris followed, wishing there were a way she could turn and run without looking like a coward. Short of that, she wished she didn't have to meet his lady friend looking so bedraggled.

She wasn't up to an introduction to anyone, but especially not to a woman that Parker had invited over for some afternoon delight. The skirt of her linen suit was badly wrinkled. There was a run in her stocking. The raincoat, which she had needed in New York, was as out of place here as a snorkel mask in the Sahara.

She stood her suitcase in the foyer and folded her coat over it, then combed her fingers through her hair, which had been wind-damaged during the boat ride over from the mainland. There was no time for further repair. Fortifying herself with a deep breath, she stepped through the arched opening between the hallway and dining room.

Her primping had been unnecessary. Except for Parker, the room was empty. She looked at him inquisitively. "Up there," he said, motioning with his chin.

"I've noticed it swaying before," she told him, looking overhead at the chandelier. "It catches the current from the air-conditioning vent."

"Reasonable explanation. But wrong. It's the hanging ghost."

She expelled a short laugh. Finding him alone after all had left her feeling a little giddy. "Hanging ghost?"

He proceeded to tell her a tale about a planter who'd fallen on hard times. "His desperate attempts to recoup the family fortune were ill-conceived and only plunged them deeper into financial ruin. He hanged himself right here in the dining room." Upon reflection, he added, "I trust no one was having dinner at the time."

"You really believe that his ghost is ..." She motioned toward the swaying fixture. "Up there?"

"Hell, yes."

"It doesn't bother you to have a ghost residing in your house?"

###"He lived here for almost a century ####493

before Mike and I moved in." He shrugged.

"He doesn't seem to mind us, so we ignore him. Ordinarily. Today, he's kept me

company. Pretty damned good conversationalist."

Maris peered at Parker suspiciously, then her eyes strayed to the open decanter on the sideboard. Coming back to him, she said, "You're drunk."

"Not yet."

"But well on your way."

"Working on it." He rolled his chair over to the sideboard. "Care to join me?"

"Sure."

His head came around quickly, his surprise over her answer turning into a wicked grin of approval. "Sin suits you, Mrs.

Matherly-Reed. You should engage in it more often."

He took a clean glass from a silver tray and began to pour from the decanter. "Say when."

"When."

After pouring the two drinks, he wedged both glasses between his thighs and rolled his chair back to her. "Help yourself."

It was a blatant dare. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she reached between his legs for one of the glasses. "Take your time," he drawled.

She pulled the glass from between his thighs and clinked it against the one remaining. "Cheers."

He grinned again. "That might put some needed color in your cheeks, but you're gonna have to drink more than that if you want to catch up with me." After saluting her with his glass, he tossed his drink back like a shot.

She sipped the straight bourbon more

cautiously. "Is this what you do now instead of write? You drink?"

"You m/'ve been talking to Mike."

"When you refused to take my calls."

"He's a tattletale."

"Some things I can see for myself."

"You're a clever girl, all right."

"Why have you stopped working on _Envy, and why are you getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon?"

"What better time? Besides, all the great writers were drunks. Didn't you know? I'll bet Homer went to the ancient Greek's equivalent of AA. From Edgar Allan Poe, to Fitzgerald, to--was

"Parker, why are you doing this?"

###"Why'd you come back?" he snapped ###495

in return.

"I asked you first."

"Because I don't have any of the narcotics I used to take, and I'd have a hard time hanging myself from the chandelier."

"That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be."

"You've mentioned suicide twice. It's offensive and tasteless. Particularly since a good friend of mind blew his brains out last week."

The exchange ended there. Parker averted his head, and for a time neither of them spoke. Maris sipped her bourbon until she'd drunk it all, then returned the empty glass to the sideboard.

Finally Parker said, "Mike finished the mantel."

"I noticed. It's beautiful." She crossed to the fireplace and ran her fingertips over the wood's satin finish. "He did an excellent job."

"Be sure and tell him."

"I will."

"Who was your friend?"

She turned back to him. "Our corporate lawyer. I'd known him all my life. He was like an uncle to me."

"I'm sorry."

"For him it was over before he felt any pain.

For the people who cared about him, it wasn't that easy.

They'll feel the pain of it for a long time."

"Problems?"

"Not that anyone knew of."

"Then why'd he do it?"

"That remains a mystery." Speaking to the mantel, she said almost as an afterthought, "Noah had a meeting with him that afternoon."

"He detected nothing wrong?"

"No, nothing."

"What was their meeting about?"

"Normal business. Why?"

"Just wondering."

She faced him again. "Why?"

Rather than answer, he asked if she wanted another drink.

"No, thank you. My toes are already tingling."

He glanced down at her shoes. "You're dressed for New York. Why don't you

change, then you can read the segment I've been

#working on since you left." #############497

She smiled in surprise. "So you have been writing?"

"Mike only _thinks he knows everything."

"This couldn't have worked out more perfectly. We can speak freely." Noah was pretending a nonchalance he didn't feel. To further convince his visitor of his insouciance, he idly twirled the skewered olive in his martini glass. "Maris went out of town again."

"Is this typical of her?"

Morris Blume had arrived at the Reeds'

West Side co-op, wearing his condescending attitude like a fashion accessory. Noah had insisted that they meet informally and alone, without Blume's flunkies. They were like hummingbirds around a tropical blossom, hovering when they weren't actually fluttering.

Noah had given his doorman an

exorbitant tip to admit Blume and to ensure his memory loss about it later. He'd been hospitably waiting for Blume when Blume stepped out of the elevator. Blume had practically marched into the apartment, surveying it as a drill sergeant would a barracks, his colorless eyes seeming to be searching for flaws.

Apparently it passed inspection. "Very nice."

Noah had attributed the tasteful decor to Maris. "She has an eye for such things.

Drink?"

Now they were seated on facing sofas, Tiffany martini glasses in hand, and Maris's name had entered the conversation again. "She goes away frequently, doesn't she?" Blume asked.

"Not until recently when she began working on a project with an author who lives on an island off the coast of Georgia."

"You're sure of this?"

Since Noah felt his control over his wife and his mistress had slipped lately, Blume's insinuation smarted. "Sure about what?" he asked testily. "My wife's whereabouts?"

Blume stretched his colorless lips into his distinctive facsimile of a smile. "I knew a man whose wife was allegedly interviewing interior decorators to redo their recently purchased winery in Sonoma. Turns out she was consulting with a notorious divorce lawyer in LA who did his best work in bed. The wife wound

#up with the lawyer, the winery, and just about ######499

everything else. Once the fleecing was over, the man considered himself lucky to come away with his dick still attached. There's a lesson to be learned there."

The implied criticism rankled, but Noah chuckled. "This writer is shriveled and disabled, wheelchair-bound. Passion hasn't drawn Maris to Georgia."

"The draw could be something more damaging than a love affair."

Noah pulled the olive off the skewer with his teeth and chewed around his lazy grin. "If you're suggesting that Maris is up to some corporate subterfuge, you truly don't know her. She doesn't think as we do, Morris. She's a bookworm. A romantic, a dreamer. Head in the clouds. Trust me, she won't be springing any nasty surprises on us."

"I assume she'll be surprised when Matherly Press becomes part of WorldView."

"We'll know soon."

"I like the confident ring of that."

Still smiling slyly, Noah set his glass on the coffee table and reached for his briefcase. With a flourish, he clicked open the latches.

"Delivered on time, as promised."

He passed Blume the document prepared by Howard Bancroft. After finding Nadia naked in bed and reeking of another man's sweat, following closely Maris's inconvenient and unexpected disappearance, he had determined that his next action must be bold and definitive.

He was tired of playing cautiously, tired of other people--women, for God's sake!--dictating what he did and when he did it. He must move quickly and aggressively. It was time to take care of Noah, and only Noah, and let the rest of them go fuck themselves. Or their meatheaded personal trainers. Jesus.

Blume scanned the document, rapidly

flipping through the pages. He was familiar enough with legal jargon to catch the gist of it. Noah waited to be congratulated.

But when Blume finished glancing over the last page, he returned the document to the coffee table. "Very nice. Now all that's needed is their signatures."

Noah's inflated chest emptied like a

punctured balloon. "Not necessary, Morris.

#Didn't you read--was #################501

"That it's valid with your signature alone?"

He chuckled as he stood up and buttoned the top button of his perfectly tailored gray suit jacket. "A problematic clause, Noah. V. I'm already dodging antitrust laws and myriad other trade regulations." He waved his pale hand in a dismissive gesture.

"They're nothing more than time-consuming nuisances.

But only if everything else is in perfect order, and I mean all the i's dotted and t's crossed.

"I couldn't swing a deal of this magnitude with a legal trapdoor like this waiting to open up beneath me. I wouldn't even want to try. This document, as it is now, would flag the feds. Even if it didn't, the Matherlys could raise a hue and cry, and then we'd all be screwed. I don't know about you, but when I get screwed, I like it to feel good."

He winked and Noah wanted to kill him.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dinner date."

He turned and headed for the door. Noah blinked the pulsing red lights out of his vision and followed. "Not to worry, Morris. I'll get the signatures."

Blume said, "I never worry."

He opened the door, then paused and turned back to Noah. "One of their signatures would probably be sufficient. Either your

father-in-law's or your wife's." He mulled it over for several seconds, then nodded. "Yes.

I'd feel protected with only one in addition to yours."

"You keep the antitrust thugs off our backs," Noah said stiffly. "Leave the Matherlys to me."

"Gladly. Between the two, I'd rather take on the federal government." His grin made him look like a leering skull recently exhumed. "Call me when you have that signature. Only when you have it, all right? My time is extremely valuable, and this has taken far too long already."

Then he was gone.

An hour later, Noah entered Daniel's

home study. Seared by Blume's parting shot, he had deliberated for only a few minutes before deciding which Matherly to approach.

###He hadn't spoken to Maris in more #####503

than a week. She was still pissed over Nadia.

The power-of-attorney document was hardly an olive branch to hold out to her. Besides, she had recently revealed a stubborn streak he hadn't known she had.

Daniel was the weaker of them. He had earned his spurs years ago, but age had dulled them. He was no longer the formidable force he'd been. Tired and in declining health, he wasn't as obstinate as he once was. If he put up any resistance at all, Noah was confident of his ability to wear him down.

Maxine answered the door and told him that Daniel was in his study. "He went in there immediately after dinner. Said he was going to read for a while before bedtime."

Sure enough, when Noah went in, an open book was resting on Daniel's lap. But his head was bowed low over his chest, and for a second Noah feared the old bastard had died. That's the way his luck had been running lately. "Daniel?"

He raised his head. "Hello, Noah. I was just reading."

"Do you always snore when you read?"

"Tell me I wasn't drooling, too."