“That’s why I’m on the payroll. So that you can put my suspicious brain to work. Or is it?” Nick demanded. “What is it you really want from me, Alex? You could have hired any one of a dozen reputable troubleshooters in this city. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the way to save money is to cut overhead and raise prices, create a higher profit margin or sell more product at the same one. And as far as your family situation is concerned, you could have hired governesses, nurses, companions for Marla and Mother and the baby to free your time. You really didn’t need me down here.” He eyed his brother in his crisp tailor-made suit and two-hundred dollar tie. “So why the hell did you think it was necessary to drive all the way to Oregon to plead your case?”
Alex’s lips rolled in on themselves and he paused either for theatrical effect or because he was hesitant to speak the truth. He glanced at the pictures on the credenza. “Because of Marla.”
There she was again. Caught between the two of them. As always. Unspoken insinuations seemed to creep across the thick carpet and slide against the walnut and brass fixtures.
Alex leaned forward and his chair squeaked. “I knew there was a good chance she would lose her memory. Dr. Robertson had warned me about that. I also knew that seeing you might jog it. With everything going on, I wanted you here.”
“You’ve never wanted me here.”
“Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Not until hell freezes over.” This was all wrong. Alex was the last person on earth to pull a one-eighty.
“Marla might not snap out of this . . . malaise. It started before the accident, a couple of weeks before James was born, and it has something to do with you, Nick, whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t see how.”
“There was something between the two of you and we both know it. Marla’s always had a ‘thing’ for you and even though she married me, it was never quite over.” He sighed and tugged at the knot of his tie. “It was your name she said before she woke up. Not mine.” He frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged. “I thought you might help her heal.”
“I’m not buying this. None of it. If she needs to get well, you can hire doctors or shrinks or whatever it takes, but dredging up something that happened fifteen years ago isn’t going to help. No,” Nick said, feeling guilt wrapping around his lungs, making it hard for him to breathe. True, he and Marla had been lovers but that was before Alex and she had married. Slowly he pushed himself to his feet, but his gaze never left Alex’s eyes. “There’s something more goin’ on here. More than you’re saying. I can feel it.”
“And what would that be?”
“I don’t know,” Nick admitted, “But I sure as hell intend to find out.”
Marla realized a little too late that she should never have come down to dinner. The entire family had collected around an expensive linen-covered table replete with china, crystal and silver. Candles had been lit, soft music played and a centerpiece of freshly cut roses, irises and daisies had been placed beneath a chandelier that had been turned down low. Alex was at the head of the table, she at the opposite end. On one side Cissy sat next to her grandmother, on the other Nick had taken a chair, sent her a cold glance, then appeared to merely tolerate the conversation around the clink of silver and soft music. Prime rib, potatoes with parsley, thin spears of asparagus garnished each plate, the aromas blending deliciously.
Marla felt completely out of place with her bowl of specially concocted bisque. This was the first formal meal she’d taken with the family and it felt wrong. Maybe it was the amnesia, or the prescription she was taking, she thought, grasping at anything that would explain her feeling of separation, from this, her family. Maybe it was paranoia returning. Or maybe it was because she remembered meeting Nick in the garden and wanting him to kiss her.
Awkwardly using a spoon she took a sip of her shrimp bisque and her stomach, tight with nerves as it was, felt worse.
The conversation had been stilted, stiff as a corpse. Alex had brought up the stock market and the business while Eugenia had mentioned Cahill House and the problems they were having trying to find a supervisor. Cissy, mostly quiet, had endured it all with long-suffering sighs and a bored expression. Marla hadn’t blamed her. Nick had kept his comments to one-word responses and sliced into his slab of prime rib.
You were involved with him. He’d said as much. They’d been lovers. She felt her cheeks burn because she could well imagine it. Though she had no memory of making love to him, not one glimmer of his naked body in her mind’s eye, she believed it. There was something about him she found irresistible. Unconventionally handsome, weather-beaten, with a cutting sense of humor that was downright irreverent, she found him sexy as hell and hated herself for it. Surely it was the drugs, her own state of confusion, this damned amnesia that screwed up her thinking, and yet, as she noticed the stony set of his features, his tanned skin stretched taut over high cheekbones, a broad forehead and sq
uare jaw, she felt that same pull she’d felt in the garden and in the hospital room.
She took another sip of soup, tried to concentrate on the conversation and didn’t hazard another glance his way. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of real food and she couldn’t wait to get the damned wires off. Just one more day.
“Mother says you invited Cherise and her husband to the house,” Alex finally said on the other side of the flickering tapers.
“That’s right. She called. They’re coming over tomorrow.”
“Do you think that’s a wise idea?” Alex was cutting the fatty edge off his prime rib. He sliced off a morsel then dipped it into a mound of horseradish.
“You know how I feel about guests,” Marla said.
“But . . . well, Cherise and Montgomery, they aren’t really friends.”
“They’re family.”
Eugenia set down her fork. “There’s some bad blood, you see.”
“Oh, brother.” Cissy took a long gulp of water from a crystal goblet where ice cubes and a slice of lemon danced.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Alex said as he glanced at his daughter.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Eugenia flushed. “No reason to bring it up at the dinner table.”