A Season of Miracles (24 page)

“Continuity?” the director called.

One of his assistants, looking through the camera, called out, “Clear as a bell. We're back in business.”

“All right, then, let's finish up here.”

The count came again. “Five, four, three…” Silent two. Silent one. Robert moved, but he was too tense. They had to do it again.

And again.

On the fifth take, he got it right. The others were jubilant. They were done. As they congratulated one another, everyone seemed to have forgotten all about the branch that had fallen. Everyone but him.

They were heading back to the hotel for piña coladas by the pool and water sports on the beach for those in the mood.

Forty-five minutes later, he was listening to a calypso band, drinking a Bud and brooding behind his dark glasses. Jillian was at his side, wearing a floppy straw hat and shades, and sipping a drink out of a plastic, shark-themed take-home glass. She squeezed his hand.

“Robert?”

“Hmm?”

“Please—it was an act of God, not the attack of the killer coconuts.”

Was she looking at him anxiously from beneath those shades? He shook his head, leaning back. “Did you…?”

“What?”

He sat up, swinging his legs around so that he faced her. “Did you feel as if you were pushed before I actually got there?” he asked.

“What?” she repeated, frowning.

“It seemed as if you went flying out of danger before I actually reached you.”

“Maybe I jumped,” she murmured.

But she hadn't jumped. Robert would have sworn to that. Oh hell, maybe he was losing it. After all, so far he hadn't come up with any evidence of foul play anywhere. Of course, he still hadn't heard back about the ashes he'd taken from the company furnace. That was all he had to go on, since he couldn't find the missing girth.

And even if he were to find out something from the ashes, what could he prove?

That someone had murdered a cat?

A shadow fell over them. “Jillian?” It was Connie. “Race you.”

“You can beat me.”

“I know. So let me get my ego boosted.”

Jillian laughed, rising, setting her drink down and tossing her glasses, wraparound and hat onto her chair. Her long-legged, beautiful stride brought her to the pool. She dived in, taking the lead, but Connie caught up and passed her, just at the end of the large, rectangular pool.

They both laughed. Tried it again. Jillian was smooth and sleek in the water, but Connie was faster. A real swimmer. The two were in the midst of a splashing fight when Joe came up to the pool. “Hey, Griff has rented wave runners, down at the dock by the beach. Come on.”

The women climbed out of the water. Jillian came jogging back toward Robert, but he was already rising, anxious about what could happen out on the ocean.

“I've never ridden a wave runner,” she called to him. “Come on—it will be fun.”

“Jillian…”

She had already turned and was running, arm-in-arm with Connie, down the sand to the water.

He followed behind.

Jillian was already crawling on behind Griff.

For some reason, Daniel had Connie Murphy behind him. Joe Murphy was riding alone, and Theo had Gracie. Eileen and Gary were together; and there was a leftover Jet Ski for him.

“Robert, come on,” Griff called.

Robert felt a strange reluctance, but Jillian was headed out there. He hopped aboard. He had used a Jet Ski before, and now he revved his instantly to life and followed after them.

He drew abreast of Griff. He didn't know why, but he remained edgy, his heart nearly in his throat. Griff waved to him. He heard the melodic sound of Jillian's laughter as she waved, too, delighted with the speed, the wind, the sun and the water.

They sped, they dipped, they jumped the waves. Time passed. Griff was fast, as were the others, but he drove safely, keeping well clear of the rest of them.

Finally they went back in. The sun was falling, a huge orange disk draped above the sea. Breathless, Jillian ran over to stand beside him on the sand, slipping her arm through his and leading him back up the beach to the hotel.

Douglas had stayed in all day. Ironically, in sunny Florida he had come down with the flu. Henry had stayed in the suite with him.

Before they had to leave for dinner, Jillian said that she wanted to spend some time with her grandfather. They went together and found Douglas propped up on his pillows, looking his age.

“I hear there was another accident this morning,” he said grimly.

“A vicious coconut,” Jillian teased.

“Daniel said you pushed her out of the way, Robert.”

“I was closest,” he said.

“He said it was the strangest thing.” He turned toward Jillian. “He said it looked like you went flying before Robert even touched you.”

“I don't know about that. It all happened so quickly,” Jillian told him. “Now let's forget it. I'm fine. You're the one who's sick. Are you sure you don't want us to stay and have dinner here with you?”

“Jillian, I appreciate the thought, but no. I'm going to have some soup, take a pill that young kid who swears he got through medical school prescribed for me, and then I'm going to sleep. I'm not just sick, I'm old. I love you dearly, but go away, leave me alone.” He grinned to take the sting out of the words. “See you in the morning. Nothing makes me happier than when you young people are all out together.”

A few minutes later, they left him. Jillian was quiet.

“What is it?”

“I worry about him so much. He is old.”

“But in good health.”

“He has the flu. He looks sick as a dog.”

Robert smiled. “He'll get over the flu. He has a good heart, strong lungs, and his mind's as sharp as a tack.”

She suddenly rose up on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek. “Thanks for saying that.”

They joined the others in the lobby and decided to walk the few blocks to the restaurant. It was a beautiful night.

Finally, during the meal, Robert began to feel the tension leave him. The steaks were good, the service efficient, the talk pleasant. He kept quiet, watching, noticing certain things about the others.

Daniel still seemed shaken and Brad kept watching Jillian as if he were afraid she would disappear. Eileen only seemed tense when she talked to Gary. Connie and Joe were both extremely pleasant to everyone—except each other. Gracie was, as usual, watching Daniel protectively, and Griff was watching him.

But on the surface, all was well.

When they left the restaurant, they headed back to one of the dance clubs they'd visited the night before. Griff and Jillian started out together again, but when Daniel cut in, Griff walked over to the bar to stand by Robert. He was quiet for a few minutes, then turned on him pointedly.

“Why were you on my tail like that today out on the water?”

“On your tail?”

“Yeah, on my tail. Look, I know things are hot and heavy between you two, but she's my cousin. I adore her. I'd die before I'd ever hurt her in any way.”

Robert stared at him in return. “If you say so.”

Griff set down his drink. “Well, I've got a date. Good night, Marston. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, good night.”

Griff left them. Connie and Joe Murphy still seemed at odds, dancing with anyone but each other. Too bad. A great vacation…and neither one seemed to be enjoying it.

Robert was surprised when Jillian came to him, ready to conk out a little early. He wondered if she was more shaken by what had happened than she let on. He didn't press the matter, commenting on nothing more than the sand, the sea and the stars, as they walked back to the hotel.

She seemed to appreciate that fact. When they reached their room, her soft silk cocktail dress seemed to melt from her shoulders to the floor. Moonlight poured in through the screen doors leading to the balcony, and the air was beautiful, carrying the fresh scent of the sea. In his arms, she was heaven.

They both slept to the sound of the surf….

Until he was awakened by the bloodcurdling sound of her scream. He leapt up, instantly on the alert, and realized once again that there was nothing wrong. Nothing but her dream.

He caught her shoulders, shaking her. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't seeing him. She kept screaming as if she were in pain. Terrible pain. “Jillian!”

Suddenly there was a pounding on the door.

“Jillian, wake up.” He reached for his robe, and hers. “Jillian!”

Her eyes widened, focusing on his at last.

“Put this on,” he ordered her.

“What…what…?”

“I think the police are here to arrest me,” he said dryly, throwing the door open. Daniel, who had the room next to theirs, was first in line, fist raised from pounding on the door. There were half a dozen others including a member of hotel security.

“You bastard! What were you doing to her?” Daniel roared, ready to lunge.

The security guard stopped him.

Embarrassed, concerned, but also angry, Robert lifted a brow, then backed away from the door, indicating that the security guard should enter. “Jillian, care to explain?”

She was crimson. “I'm so sorry.” Her voice was husky, embarrassed. “I had a nightmare. Daniel, I was dreaming. I'm so sorry….”

“So everything is all right in here?” the guard said skeptically.

“Everything is fine. Except that I've awakened everyone and I—I'm sorry.”

“This man wasn't beating you…forcing you…” the guard began. He was as crimson as Jillian.

“Good Lord, no!” Jillian gasped.

“Well, then, uh, lady, whatever you ate tonight, don't eat it again,” the guard said, then cleared his throat. “Okay, everyone, break it up. Back to bed!”

Everyone left but Daniel, who didn't budge. He was staring at them.

“I had a nightmare, Daniel,” Jillian told him, eyes pleading.

“You think I'd ever hurt her?” Robert demanded, his temper shot.

Daniel let his breath escape slowly through his teeth. His eyes were hard on Robert; then he shook his head. “A
dream,
Jilly?”

“A nightmare,” she murmured.

Daniel lowered his head, then looked up. “Sorry, Marston.”

Robert nodded stiffly.

“About what, Jilly? About what?” Daniel asked.

“Fire,” she said.

“Fire? Where?”

“Just…fire.”

He nodded. “I guess there was a lot going on today. But you shouldn't worry about a fire. There's a smoke alarm right there, above your head. And a sprinkler system.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks, Daniel.”

“Yeah. Good night. Good night, Robert.”

“Good night.”

Robert closed the door behind Daniel, and turned to look at Jillian. He ran his fingers through his hair, ready to tell her that they had to do something, that this was dangerous. He still felt like a fool. As if half the people in the hallway were convinced, no matter what Jillian had said, that he was a terrible human being, a woman beater.

“Jillian,” he began, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. But she was just staring at him. And before he could say anything further, she burst into tears. “Jillian…”

He took her into his arms, his anger fading.

“Why?” she whispered miserably, face buried against him.

He ran his hands gently over her hair, cradling her head gently. “I don't know,” he said. “But by God, we are going to find out.”

T
he following Friday morning, Robert left the police station and returned to the office, furious. He stalked down the hallway to Douglas's office, ignoring Amelia's warning that Douglas was in a meeting. He let himself in, then closed the door.

Daniel was seated in front of Douglas's desk, and both men looked irate, as if they were trying to calmly discuss a matter about which they held widely varying views.

Robert didn't care. He strode forward, tossing a manila envelope on the desk.

“What is that?” Daniel asked.

“And why are you bursting through a closed door?” Douglas demanded, then sneezed. He had insisted on coming in to the office for a few hours each day.

“You should go home,” Robert said curtly. “If you die of pneumonia, you're definitely not going to help anyone.”

Douglas's brows shot up, but he seemed as much amused as outraged. “I'm not going to die of pneumonia—I refuse to. So, what is this?”

“After the cat died, I gathered the ashes from the furnace.”

“You what?” Daniel demanded.

“I gathered the ashes from the furnace, took them to a friend who's a cop and had them analyzed.”

“Great. Let's bring the cops in here because a cat died,” Daniel muttered.

“What did they find?” Douglas asked. His old eyes had remained steady on Robert.

“Rat poison.”

Douglas leaned forward. “We do keep rat poison around. For rats,” he said quietly.

“Wait a minute,” Daniel said. “How do you know there weren't rat ashes in there, too? You couldn't have made this startling discovery immediately following the cremation. You must have waited.”

“Yes. And that's interesting, don't you think? Of course, everyone knew about the cat's death—except for Jillian and me.”

“What exactly are you implying?” Daniel asked, so angry that he was rising.

“Take it easy, Daniel. I'm not implying anything, except that someone here is careless with rat poison. And that I should have been told immediately about what had happened. I need to know everything of importance that goes on at the office. That cat died on Jillian's desk.”

“Did it?” Daniel said, then struck back suddenly, like a cobra. “And who was sleeping with Jillian when she suddenly starting screaming as if she were being sliced to ribbons?”

“What?” Douglas demanded sharply. None of them had told him about the incident. He'd been too sick Sunday and Monday. So sick, in fact, that they'd delayed coming home until Tuesday night, when he was well enough to fly.

“She woke up screaming in the middle of the night. Woke up half the hotel,” Daniel said, staring at Robert.

“Did she think there was a fire?” Douglas asked quietly.

“Yes,” Robert said. “How did you know? I suppose she's had the dream before?”

“Once that I know of. At the house,” Douglas said. “Something's on her mind…” Douglas mused.

Robert leaned over the desk. “Rat poison wasn't on her mind.”

“But how do you know that the rat poison wasn't
in
a rat? Maybe the cat ate a damn rat,” Daniel said. “Something cats are prone to do.”

Robert straightened. He might have Douglas upset and worried, but Daniel was just plain angry.

Or else, he was doing a good job of pretending.

“I want all the rat poison out of here,” Douglas said. “If we have any more problems in the building, we'll call in an exterminator. He can set those catch-and-release traps. No more poison.”

“I'll take care of it right away.” Daniel exited the office as he spoke, but not before casting Robert another fulminating glance.

“Rat poison…” Douglas said. “It had to be an accident.”

Robert leaned on the desk again. “You told me to watch her.”

Douglas shook his head. “Just because of the dream. An old man's fancy. I'm sure it's nothing.”

Robert wanted to tell Douglas that there had been too many accidents for it to be nothing. A fence down, a truck careening, a saddle slipping. Palm fronds and coconuts.

But Douglas looked so ill.

“Yeah, Douglas. Nothing. That's why you dragged me into this.”

He left the office, shaking his head. Just outside the door, he paused, suddenly thinking about the tarot card reader. Shelley Millet, also known as Madame Zena.
The cat was poisoned,
she had told him.
How do you know?
he had asked.

Milo.

Milo Anderson.

Maybe it was time to see the tarot card reader again.

He started purposefully toward his own office. Jillian was in danger. And he couldn't allow her to be alone anymore.

 

Jillian walked into Connie's office and set a package on her desk. Connie sat back, looking up at her.

Jillian grinned. “These are the best ‘little artist' sets I've ever seen. I think the girls will love them.”

“Oh, Jillian, thanks so much,” Connie said. She shook her head. “You do too much for them. For me. For us.”

“Connie, it's not that big a deal. I thought they could bring them for Thanksgiving. You're still coming up, right, for the long weekend? It's not a working holiday. And your mom's invited, too, of course.”

Connie looked a little pale. “I don't know if we're coming this year. Joe is a little…well, he feels as if we've both been working too much, and…”

“I'll be disappointed if you don't come, but it's up to the two of you. We're friends. You're like part of the family. But I would never want you to jeopardize your marriage.”

“Thanks. We'll see. Hey, how about going out with Joe and me for a few drinks tonight? The girls are going to be at a sleepover.”

“Maybe. I was going to work late. All this out-of-town stuff has been great, but I'm behind, and it seems like Thanksgiving is just around the corner.”

“Come on…”

Jillian laughed. “Like a friend of mine says, we'll see.”

She left the package in Connie's office and walked to Robert's. She tapped on the door, then waited for his “Come in.”

Then she entered and perched on the corner of his desk. “I'm sane,” she told him.

He leaned back, watching her, blue eyes sharp. He'd seemed exceptionally tense since they returned from Florida. Today he seemed like stretched wire. Restless, even though he was sitting behind his desk without moving.

“I never doubted your sanity. But what did he say?”

She had been to see Dr. Alfred Ghaminetti, one of the best psychoanalysts in the tristate area. He hadn't impressed her much. He'd done the right things, she supposed. He'd gotten her to talk. He'd suggested that she look at her own life, at the changes she was experiencing, for the source of her disturbing dream. Perhaps she was just feeling guilty now that she was entering into a new relationship.

“He suggested that maybe I thought I was burning in hell, something like that.”

His brows shot up. “You're burning in hell because of me?”

She smiled. “Well, certainly not because of anyone else.”

He set down the pen with which he'd been making notes on a marketing presentation, folded his hands on the desk and looked at her seriously. “Then, you should marry me.”

The breath rushed from her lungs. She shook her head, sure he wasn't serious. “I should marry you because I have nightmares?”

He looked down, smiling. “No. You should marry me because I can't live without you. Because you won't stay with me more than a night or two when we're here in New York, and because you won't let me stay with you in Douglas's house. God knows, Eileen has spent five years just living with poor Gary, but—”

“Douglas is old. He raised me. I have to stay with him,” she said.

He lifted his hands. “So marry me.”

A smile curved her lips. “You're not the type of man to live in my grandfather's house.”

“For now, I would,” he said seriously. “I'd never give up my apartment, but if you're worried about Douglas and you're not ready to leave him to Henry's care, marry me and I'll stay with you until you're ready to move out.”

“You're serious,” she said.

“Incredibly serious.”

“Henry is almost as old as Grandfather, you know.”

“So is Amelia—and she stands guard at his office door every day with the strength of a pit bull,” Robert reminded her.

She laughed. “Amelia is only in her late sixties. Henry, on the other hand, is almost seventy-five. She hesitated still, feeling a strange tremor shoot down her spine. “You know, there's been speculation that you were brought in just for me, because I was grandfather's favorite but not a male heir.”

“And do you live your life by rumor?”

“Of course not.”

“So marry me.”

“Everyone would make a big deal of it.”

“We won't tell them.”

“What?”

He sighed. “We won't tell anyone. We'll do the deed on the sly and share it only with Douglas so you'll allow me into the hallowed precincts of your home. And later, when the dreams have stopped, when Douglas is well, when things are moving along smoothly, we'll have a big party and everyone will be pleased.”

“But, Robert, why now? Why the urgency?”

“Because I love you,” he said simply. “And I want to be with you.”

“Are you really so sure that you know me?” she whispered.

“I know that I love you,” he said stubbornly. “And can you tell me that you don't love me, that you don't want to be with me?”

“Of course, I love you,” she whispered. “It's just that…”

“What?”

She shrugged. How could she explain what she didn't understand herself?

“I'm…afraid.”

“Of what? Of me?”

“No, of course not.”

“Don't you see? I want to be there for you. I
will
be there for you. Whenever you need me, I'll be there for you.”

He was so passionate, so intense. She couldn't help but believe him. “Well, I…maybe. We'll see, all right?”

“We'll see soon,” he told her firmly.

 

That night they went to Hennessey's with Connie and Joe. Mary MacRae, looking healthy, some of the signs of premature aging beginning to dim, was their waitress. She greeted them like old friends, and to Robert's dismay, she told Jillian the whole story about how she had been begging on the street, supporting her drug habit, until Robert's kindness had turned her life around.

“Here, here,” Joe said, after hearing the story. “You're a hero. Right out of a storybook. He can probably break through brick walls with a single hand.”

Joe had imbibed a few beers. He had been a family friend forever, and Robert knew that he was fairly comfortable with all his employers—except for him. Everyone, of course, had been wary about Robert coming into the business. They had all felt that their jobs were being threatened. No one seemed to believe that he hadn't been brought in to clean house.

Joe had seemed mildly hostile all night. Robert wondered if it had something to do with the angry words he and Daniel had exchanged in Douglas's office that afternoon. Joe was Daniel's right-hand man, as well as Jillian's friend, so if Daniel had said anything to him about the incident, he could be feeling testy.

“I wasn't a hero. I gave her money because of Douglas,” he told Joe, watching him.

“Douglas?”

“Uh-huh. I never gave handouts on the street, until I saw Douglas do it.”

“Hell, half the time,” Joe said, “if you give a junkie money, you're just helping to support their habit.”

“Yeah, maybe. Excuse me just a minute.”

Mary MacRae was at the bar. He walked up to her. “Mary, can you give Shelley Millet, the tarot card reader, a call for me?”

“Of course.”

“Tell her I'm willing to listen.” He hesitated, thinking that maybe he was the one who needed the psychoanalyst, not Jillian. “Tell her that my mind is open, that I've had a few visits from Milo myself.”

“Visits from Milo?”

“Yes, just say that, will you, please?”

He returned to the table. Everyone, including Jillian, looked curious about his conversation with the waitress.

He had no intention of enlightening them. “Ready to order some food?” he asked.

“Sure. Food,” Joe said.

The rest of the evening was pleasant enough. Joe seemed to lighten up the more he drank that night. He'd started out at odds with his own wife, but by the time they left, Connie was laughing and they were cuddling together as they walked down the street to hail a cab at the corner.