Garden of the Moongate (15 page)

When she had joined him in the cockpit, he had been oddly quiet, though she had detected nothing in his attitude to indicate he was irritated at her. Actually, she had sensed in him a tender concern that had heightened her feeling of guilt. He still believed her sunburn had caused last night's tears, and she knew she should tell him the truth: that she had cried because she had realized it would never be enough for her to become involved in a casual affair. She would need a much deeper commitment, and she needed to tell him that in no uncertain terms. Then he could find someone else to while away the summer with, and she wouldn't end up getting irreparably hurt. Yet somehow she couldn't bring herself to drive him away completely. She wanted to see him, to be close to him, though she knew she was playing with fire.

Bedeviled by her conflicting emotions, Allendre only picked at the crab and avocado salad she had ordered from room service. Finally, around two o'clock, she decided it was silly to sit around and brood. She still had a job to do here, and she was simply going to have to find a way to prove or disprove the overcharging allegations. Once that issue was settled, she could return to Chicago, where, if she was lucky, she might begin to put her feelings for Ric Shannon in the proper perspective.

After putting on a royal-blue cotton jersey dress that was soothingly soft against her skin, Allendre went down to sit in the lobby, as close to the desk as possible. Though she stayed there nearly an hour and four guests checked out, she heard no one even hint that he was being charged an exorbitant amount. Of course, three of the guests didn't even look at their bills, and the fourth gave his only a perfunctory glance. At last, after Loretta cast a couple of curious looks in her direction, Allendre began to feel conspicuous, so she went outside for a walk in the garden.

It was a hot day. The bright sunshine had already begun to dry the puddles of water created by last night's rain, which had also freshened all the flowers and green foliage so that each petal and leaf shimmered with clear, jewellike color in the afternoon light. A pungent odor of rich earth was raised by a cooling breeze, and the shade provided by towering shrubs and the occasional cedar protected Allendre from the full glare of the sun. She wandered along the winding paths, admiring the myriad flowers and enjoying the silence that was broken only by the rustling leaves and the singing of the birds. When she came upon a secluded arbor, covered with trailing scarlet bougainvillea vines, she sat down on a bench to watch two orioles hopping about in the light ground cover as they searched for food.

At first she paid little attention to the voices in the distance, but her ears perked up as she heard footfalls along the path coming toward her and recognized Deb's nasal tones.

"Gerald, can't you just leave me alone for a while?" she was saying with obvious impatience. "I've told you Ric's a little miffed at me for the way I've been running things, so I don't want to make the situation any worse by being seen with you. You didn't make a very good impression on him that day he arrived, and until he leaves I have to try to please him any way I can."

"And you love every minute of it, don't you? If he asked you to please him by crawling into bed with him, I'm sure you'd be glad to do that, too," Gerald muttered crudely. "I'm not good enough for you now that he's here, am I? Or is it that I'm just not rich enough?"

As the footsteps ceased abruptly, Allendre looked around, trying to find some way to leave the arbor without being seen. This was a very private conversation, and it made her feel rather uncomfortable to overhear it. Unfortunately, the only escape route was the path, and since that was blocked by the very people she didn't want to see her, she had no choice except to stay where she was. And trying not to listen was futile. Deb's furious response to Gerald was loud enough to raise the dead.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that again, Gerald Cooley!" she nearly shouted. "After I took you away from mowing the grounds to make you assistant manager, don't take it out on me just because you were too stupid to hold on to the job!"

"I didn't see you rushing to my defense, Deb, darling," he retorted sarcastically. "Why not? Were you afraid the mighty Patrick Shannon might guess we're much more than co-workers?"

"We
were
more," Deb said emphatically, her voice shrill. "But you knew all along what Ric meant to me, and now that he's here, I can't keep seeing you."

Gerald snorted. "You've always worshiped him and his money, and I guess you still think he'll eventually see what a prize you are and marry you, don't you? I don't know how you can. You just admitted he's angry with you about the way you've run his precious hotel the past few months."

"Oh, but that's only business," Deb responded nonchalantly. "He simply doesn't agree with some of my ideas, but that doesn't affect our personal relationship. He's still as fond of me as he ever was."

"Or does he just use you because you're so willing?" Gerald taunted. "You should see yourself cozying up to him. It's disgusting. And I doubt it'll get you anywhere in the end. Didn't you say once that he's hooked up with some high-society dame in New York?"

"Oh, I'm sure he isn't serious about her," Deb answered, though she didn't sound completely convinced. "He and I have known each other so much longer, and we've always been so close."

"Too close, if you ask me! Last night and the night before, when you were supposed to meet me, you were with him, weren't you? You spent both nights with him! Didn't you?"

"That's none of your business," Deb replied haughtily. "And I have better things to do than to stand here and listen to your ranting and raving. Ric's probably waiting for me in the office right now. I'll talk to you later, Gerald. But let me come to see you. Don't you come chasing after me anymore."

As the sound of voices grew fainter and the footsteps receded on the path Allendre drew a deep, shuddering breath. Though she knew for a fact that Deb hadn't spent last night with Ric, she had no way of knowing about the night before.

Trying not to consider that possibility, Allendre hurried out of the arbor to walk briskly on along the path, as if she thought physical exertion might dissipate her confusing thoughts. Unfortunately, it didn't, especially when she stepped through the moongate, where Ric had first kissed her. Slowing her pace, she strolled through the deserted tropical garden, pausing, enchanted, by the bird-of-paradise plants with their bird-like orange blooms. Beyond them was a row of coralita shrubs with drooping clusters of popcornlike red flowers, and as she bent closer to examine their large heart-shaped leaves she noticed a trail beginning between the two central shrubs. She followed it. It wound through a copse of royal poinciana trees, which unfortunately weren't in bloom, but she tried to imagine what they would look like with their smooth-barked branches laden with heavy clusters of scarlet-orange flowers.

Leaving the copse, she suddenly stopped, realizing she had stumbled across the staff quarters. There was a long, two-story apartment building and next to it a medium-sized limestone coral house, where she assumed Deb and her uncle lived. But it was the sprawling two-story house of gray stone that captured her full attention. Set off by itself in a stand of cedar trees, overlooking the ocean, it had to be Ric's cottage, though she had no idea how he could call it that. It was more like the main house on a huge country estate. A balcony with wrought-iron railing formed a columned portico porch below with the traditional welcoming-arms stairs. Huge, multipaned bay windows jutted out over the porch, providing an exquisite panoramic view of the sapphire ocean. She stood staring at it for a long time, wishing she could see what it was like inside. As she started to walk back into the copse a man called to her from the porch of the small house by the apartments. When she turned inquiringly, he beckoned her to him.

Allendre approached him with a smile, presuming him to be Lawrence Hopkins, Deb's uncle. In his late sixties, with a thick thatch of snow-white hair, he did seem a bit pale, as if he might have recently been ill.

"If you're lost, you're not the first," he said, obviously trying to put her at her ease. "Guests are often wandering down here and don't exactly know how to get back to the hotel."

"Oh, I'm not lost," Allendre explained. "I was just walking through the tropical garden and I followed the path down here. I hope that was okay. This place isn't off limits, is it?"

"No, nothing like that," he assured her, his voice low and cultured and mercifully lacking the irritating nasal drawl his niece's voice possessed. "In fact, it gets so lonely down here during the day, with most of the staff at work, that I welcome lost guests."

He looked a little lost himself, as if he didn't quite know what he should be doing, and Allendre felt a surge of compassion for him. "You're Lawrence Hopkins, aren't you?" she asked. When he nodded with some surprise, she introduced herself, adding, "I'm a guest at the hotel. And I've heard a lot of nice things about you."

"Oh? From whom?" he questioned, indicating with a sweeping gesture that he wanted her to join him on the porch. Grinning as she took a seat on a wicker settee, he sat down also in an adjacent chair. "I bet you heard the staff talking about me. Probably said I was a terrible slave driver and that they didn't miss me harassing them one little bit."

"I said I'd heard
nice
things about you," Allendre reminded him with a smile. "And from the owner of the hotel himself."

"Ric? You know Ric?"

She nodded. "And I've met your niece, Deb."

"She's been managing the hotel since my illness, you know," Mr. Hopkins said, with an obviously affectionate smile. "She worries so much about my health. I've been telling her for the past two months that I feel well enough to go back to work again. But she insists it's too soon yet." He lifted his shoulders in a resigned gesture. "I did worry about her being too inexperienced to run a place like Shannon by herself, but now that Ric's here, I guess she'll do all right. Trouble is, they don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. But I guess you've noticed that if you've seen them together. They seem to argue constantly these days."

"I did hear Ric say he preferred your methods of running the hotel," Allendre admitted. "But Deb seems to have her own ideas."

"She's just impetuous," her uncle excused her. "But of course Ric realizes that. She's always been that way, and since they've known each other since they were children, he can make allowances for her when she gets a bit overenthusiastic."

"I suppose he would have fired anyone else who made the changes at the hotel that she has, wouldn't he?" Allendre probed, ashamed of herself for doing so even as she spoke. But she couldn't seem to prevent herself. "He must be very fond of her."

"Oh, yes, indeed he is," Mr. Hopkins agreed without a moment's hesitation. "As I said, they've known each other all their lives, and, to be honest, I've always hoped they'd fall in love and get married someday. Deb needs a strong man like Ric, and she's been half in love with him for years anyway. But he… well, I expect you've noticed he's an attractive, intelligent young man. He has his pick of the girls, but so far he hasn't shown any inclination to settle down with one. He will, though, eventually."

With Deb, Allendre expected Mr. Hopkins to add, but when he didn't, she hastily changed the subject. "Tell me what Shannon House was like when you first went to work there. You had some very important people as guests, I understand."

"A few princes and princesses and innumerable lesser royalty," Mr. Hopkins told her proudly, then proceeded to get down to specifics.

Fascinated by his stories, Allendre didn't realize how fast the time was passing until she saw Ric and Deb leave the copse of trees and approach the Hopkins house. Glancing at her watch, she jumped to her feet. "It's nearly five-thirty. I didn't realize it was so late. I'd better be going."

"Nonsense. Stay and have a drink with the children and me," Lawrence Hopkins insisted, waving her back into her seat, smiling at Ric and Deb as they ascended the steps to the porch. "Miss Corey's been letting me bore her with my reminiscing. Wasn't that sweet of her?"

"Very sweet," his niece answered, but there was a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she tucked a possessive hand into the crook of Ric's elbow. "And how did you happen to find your way down here, Miss Corey?"

And how did you happen to get an uncle as nice as yours is when you're so hateful? Allendre longed to retort. But she didn't. Instead, she smiled as nicely as possible. "I discovered the path leading from the tropical garden."

Deb sniffed, surveying Allendre with insulting intensity. "Well, I can certainly see why you were in the garden instead of on the beach. You've gotten yourself a doozie of a sunburn. But I guess it's easy for pale people like you to burn, isn't it? Such a pity."

"How
are
you feeling today, Allie?" Ric intervened diplomatically. "Still pretty uncomfortable?"

"I'm feeling much better, thank you," she answered, a hint of shyness in the smile she gave him. "That aloe cream you put… uh, recommended is very effective."

Apparently noticing Allendre's near slip of the tongue and Ric's amused answering smile, Deb's lips tightened to a grim line. "It's getting on toward dinnertime, isn't it?" she hinted very unsubtly. "And I'm ready for a drink. How about you, Uncle Lawrence? Ric?" And, as a deliberate afterthought: "Miss Corey?"

Tired of the daggers Deb's eyes were hurling at her, Allendre shook her head. "Nothing for me, thanks. I have to be getting back to the hotel."

"No, you must stay and have a drink with us," Mr. Hopkins insisted graciously. "Please."

Unable to refuse such a sincere invitation, Allendre nodded. "All right. But just one drink for me; then I'll have to go."

During the next twenty minutes, Deb did her best to exclude Allendre from the conversation. She chattered away like a magpie, resisting all her uncle's and Ric's attempts to begin discussions the younger girl could join in.

Relegated to a nonperson status, Allendre sipped her white wine and merely listened as Deb talked about people only she, her uncle, and Ric knew. Finally, bored by the older girl's pettiness, Allendre stood. "Thanks for the wine and the very interesting afternoon, Mr. Hopkins, but now I really should go."