From Nadine’s reaction when he’d brought up the check, he’d hoped that his faith in her could be restored. But the notation in the general accounting books was right where it should have been, written two days after the accident.
Marie bustled into the room. “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Monroe? More coffee?”
“Not now. Thanks. And it’s Hayden,” he said. As she left the room as quickly as she’d entered, he looked around the office, smelled the remnants of stale tobacco in his father’s humidor and wondered what the hell he was doing here.
* * *
THE NEXT FEW days at the Monroe house were tense. Hayden and Nadine tried to avoid each other, but even in a three-storied house the size of a manor, two people did bump into each other and Nadine dreaded each meeting.
He spent some of his time at the mill, some of his time on the phone, and a little of his time outside, doing a few of the repairs that she’d brought to his attention. Nonetheless, there was still a lot of hours when they were alone in the house, and Nadine, as if she had a sixth sense, knew where he was at just about any given second.
Which irritated her. She wanted to ignore him, to pretend that he wasn’t around. But she heard the scrape of his boots, or the softer step of his running shoes, and sensed when he was in the room next to hers. Several times she’d caught him gazing at her, staring at her with those intense blue eyes that seemed to scrape down her body and penetrate her soul.
There was a new anger in him, a deep rage that he tried to hide, but was evident in the harsh set of his jaw and the tense cords in his neck that bulged whenever she spoke to him.
On Friday, she couldn’t stand the strain a moment longer. She had just finished cleaning the fireplace in the living room. The ashes had been hauled outside, the andirons gleamed, the mantel had been polished and the brass candlesticks actually sparkled for the first time in years.
Wiping her hands on her jeans, she glanced into the oval mirror over the mantel and caught Hayden openly staring at her. Propped by one shoulder, he leaned against the heavy woodwork of the arch separating the dining room from the living room. His frown was deep, his eyebrows drawn together and if looks could kill, she would have already been laid in a coffin by now.
“Don’t tell me—this doesn’t pass the white-glove test,” she said, watching a tic near his scarred eyebrow.
“I don’t give a damn how clean it is.”
“Then you shouldn’t have hired me.”
“I didn’t.”
“I’ll be done by the end of next week,” she said, and hid her disappointment that he didn’t seem to appreciate any of her labors. She’d spent hours polishing the piano, washing the windows and dusting the chandelier while standing on a ladder and hand-rubbing each crystal teardrop of glass. The oak floors were waxed to a deep patina, and once the crew came out to shampoo the carpets, the living room would look as grand as it had years ago when Hayden’s parents had thrown parties here. However, she wasn’t going to let Hayden’s pessimism infect her. She’d done a good job and she was proud of it.
“You know, Hayden,” she said, unable to hold her tongue a minute longer, as she ran her fingers down the keys of the piano and the room seemed to shiver with the sound, “I don’t understand why you’re so hostile.”
“I’m not.”
She held his gaze steadily. “You act as if I did something horrible to you. Something unthinkable. Or else, you’re substituting your guilt for rage.”
“My guilt,” he repeated, unfolding his arms. “My guilt?”
She walked a few steps closer to him. “The other day you mentioned money—blackmail money or hush money. I thought you’d really gone off the deep end at the time, and I tried to forget about it, but I can’t. Just what is it you think I did?”
“I know about the five thousand dollars.”
“What five thousand?”
Hayden’s eyes darkened in anger. “The money my father paid yours so that you wouldn’t come chasing after me, or spread rumors about us or claim that we’d slept together.”
“Wh-what—?” Nadine’s mouth dropped open, and she felt the blood drain from her face.
“That’s right, Nadine, I found out. The old man brought me the check, shoved it under my nose in the hospital.” His lips twisted into a cruel grin. “I thought you were different.”
“There...there was no money. Your father lied.”
“I thought so, too,” he admitted. “Hell, I wanted him to have told me the biggest lie of all time. But he didn’t, Nadine. The check was cashed. I saw the records when I went into the company office. The check was written two days after the boating accident and it was cashed three days later. Your hush money.”
“No!” Her knees felt weak, and she placed the flat of her palm on the piano, making a horrid noise, to support herself.
“There’s no reason to try to cover it up—”
“I never saw a dime of your damned money, Hayden,” she said, stiffening her spine. “And your information is all wrong. We lost everything—our house, our savings, eve