Green Fire (17 page)

"A handyman the Andersons hired to do some work around their cottages this winter."

"Funny time of year to do that kind of thing."

Rani wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. It
was
a strange time of year for repairs and gardening. "The Andersons probably wanted the work done now so that they could enjoy the place themselves next spring." It sounded a bit weak, but it was the best Rani could come up with on the spur of the moment.

"Well, he looks as though he ain't afraid of hard work," Mrs. Hobson offered by way of opinion.

"No, Mrs. Hobson. He isn't." Ram was aware of the firmness in her voice and wondered vaguely why she felt obliged to defend Flint. The man could take care of himself.

"Is he staving in the back cottage?"

"Uh, yes."

"What's your artist friend think of all of this?"

"Mrs. Hobson, I…"

"You city folks do live exciting lives, don't you?" Mrs. Hobson observed with satisfaction.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Hobson."

Flint watched as Rani turned away from the counter and came toward him. She was frowning slightly, wearing that faintly belligerent expression she wore when she was being pushed. He wondered what the woman behind the counter had said to inspire it.

"Ready?" he asked.

"I'm ready. Where's Mike?"

"Gone."

"I can see that," Rani said with careful patience. "What did you say to make him leave so quickly?"

Flint gave her an offended glance. "Hey, he's an artist. Artists are temperamental. Who can figure them?"

"Flint…" she began firmly. Then she floundered to a halt.

Flint smiled. "Let's go get that boat. I can't wait to sink my teeth into that tuna fish sandwich."

She didn't argue. Pleased, and a little relieved, Flint swung the Jeep out of the small parking lot and headed for the tiny marina. There was a small park fronting the lake-shore, and he and Rani walked through it to get to the old wooden building with the dilapidated sign over the doorway that read Gibson's Boats for Rent, by the Day or by the Hour.

"Won't be many more days you can take a boat out and go picnicking on the island," the old man said as he fit the oars in the locks. "You know how to handle these?" he asked Flint.

"I can manage them," Flint said unconcernedly, helping Rani into the small, rocking boat.

"Yup, I guess so." The owner of the boat eyed Flint as he easily unshipped the oars and dipped them into the rippling surface of the lake. "See you in a couple of hours. Five bucks an hour if you go over the two hours you already paid for."

"That's a little steep isn't it?" Flint called back mildy. "Considering the time of the year?" As far as he could see they were the only customers that day.

"Take it or leave it." Gibson didn't appeared worried which choice they made. "Don't reckon you'll stay out more'n a couple of hours, anyhow. It'll start getting a mite chilly on that lake by late afternoon."

Flint didn't argue. He'd discuss the matter with Gibson when he got back. Right now he was more interested in getting on with the picnic. He felt the water's resistance against the oars and leaned into the long pull. Rani sat facing him, her eyes still reflecting the curious combination of uncertainty and acceptance that had been in them when she'd awakened that morning.

Flint searched for the right words, wanting to reassure her and at the same time let her know that everything was settled. He wanted to remove the last of the uncertainty. She was such a cautious, careful creature, he thought. He wanted to impress upon her that the time for wariness was past. All day long he'd been mentally planning what to say to her and how to say it. He gathered himself. "This might be a good time to talk about what happens when your vacation is over, Rani."

He was expecting a tentative response. What he got was an unexpectedly serene smile.

"Why?"

Flint pulled on the oars. "Because I know you'll worry about the future. I don't want you to worry, honey. There's no need."

"I know," she said gently.

A fierce satisfaction mingled with relief washed through him. It was far better than he'd anticipated. She had understood exactly what had happened the night before after all. Flint realized he was probably grinning like a fool, but he couldn't help it. It was going to be much easier than he expected.

"I was afraid you'd fight it," he said softly.

"Were you?"

He inclined his head, combining the action with another long tug on the oars. The boat was skimming swiftly along the surface. Flint glanced back over his shoulder to check the location of the tiny island. "I get the feeling you've been waiting a long time for some guy who fits your mental image of perfection. I wasn't sure how you'd feel when you found yourself in bed with me instead."

"Surprised."

He turned his head to look at her. She was still smiling that serene smile, but now he thought there was a trace of some other expression in the way her mouth curved, something feminine and secretive. "What?"

"Surprised is what I felt when I found myself in bed with you, Flint" she elaborated. "But I think, on the whole, it's going to be an interesting experience. You were perfectly right when you implied I probably hadn't taken enough risks in life. I'm thirty years old, Flint. It's time I took some risks. If I don't, life will pass me by, won't it?"

"Rani, what are you talking about? We're not discussing risks. We're talking about you and me."

She shook her head earnestly, warming to her theme. Belatedly it occurred to Flint that she had done a great deal of thinking on the subject during the day. "I know exactly what we're discussing. Don't worry, Flint, I'm not going to pressure you for a long-term commitment. I'm going to take what you're offering and live life to the fullest for the next three weeks. I've never done this sort of thing before, you know. I've never just jumped into the stream and let the river take me wherever it would."

"Rani…"

"When I woke up this morning, I was feeling confused," she went on candidly. "I was a little scared, I think. There you were, acting as though everything were settled for the next three weeks. Maybe I was a bit resentful at the way you just moved in on me. But I've had plenty of time to think about things and I've decided you were right. It's time I took a risk. I've spent years trying to protect myself, always trying to analyze the extent of a man's commitment before I gave anything of myself."

"Rani, that's what I'm trying to explain to you," Flint broke in, not liking the direction of the conversation. "You don't have to worry about that this time."

"I know. This time I'm just going to enjoy myself. I'm not going to even think about what happens when the vacation is over. I'm going to live for the moment." Her eyes brimmed with a new excitement. "I've probably missed a great deal all these years, Flint. No doubt I've passed up some wonderful experiences because I didn't see any future with the man who was offering those opportunities."

Now he was getting annoyed. "You haven't missed a damn thing, Rani. You were right to be careful."

She shook her head. "No, I overdid it. What's life without a few risks? That's how we grow and change, isn't it, Flint? Risks are what makes life exciting. Oh, I realize this is probably a cliche for you, but for me it's a whole new way of thinking. I feel free. I won't think beyond tomorrow for the next few weeks. Don't worry, Flint. I'm not going to be moody or temperamental. No scenes, I promise. I'm just going to enjoy myself."

"The hell you are," he bit out. "Now listen to me, Rani Garroway. What happened last night was important. It changes a lot of things for us and it changes them permanently, not just for the next three weeks. Do you hear me, lady?"

She nodded, reaching down to fish around inside the black-and-white tote bag. "I hear you, but you can stop worrying, Flint. I feel quite capable of dealing with the sit-uation. You don't have to pretend there's a long-term future involved here. In fact, I'd just as soon you didn't try. I'd rather keep everything strictly honest if you don't mind. I promise not to try to maneuver you into an extended affair or, heaven forbid, marriage, but in exchange I'd like you to promise you won't lie to me because you think that's a way of keeping me cooperative for the next few weeks. Let's agree to be honest with each other, Flint. We're adults. We can take our risks honestly."

"Now just a damn minute," he began savagely, pulling so hard on the oars that the small craft almost leaped out of the water. "You're twisting everything around. I'm trying to talk about a future and you're acting as if you're only in this for the next couple of weeks."

"We both know we're only in this for the next couple of weeks. Why pretend otherwise? Want a potato chip? They're the extra thick kind. They make them with the skins on, but I'm not sure how much real nutrition that adds. I mean, after you've deepfried a slice of potato and poured salt all over it, how much good is left in the poor thing? But it does taste wonderful." She munched cheerfully as she spoke, reaching out to put a chip between his lips.

"Rani, I'm trying to deal seriously with this." Flint ignored the potato chip she was holding quite close to his mouth. "I don't understand you today. What the hell has gotten into you?" And then, quite suddenly, he did understand her. She was scared. She didn't want to talk about the future because she was afraid of it. Rani was hiding the fear behind a veil of feminine bravado. He understood completely, and he could hardly blame her. Giving her a lecture on how he intended to stick around wasn't going to reassure her. It would be best if he just backed off and let her adjust in her own way. Sooner or later she would begin to grow more certain of him. Then they could talk.

"Don't you want the potato chip?" she asked politely.

Flint opened his mouth and crunched the chip very forcefully between his teeth. "Are we going to eat the whole picnic lunch before we get to the island?" he asked softly.

"Nope. Just a few appetizers." She watched him, the anxiety almost hidden beneath the determined brightness of her smile. "Want another chip?"

"Sounds terrific."

The phone rang two evenings later, just as Rani was finishing the task of rinsing the last of the dinner dishes she and Flint had been washing. The past two days had been composed of homey scenes like the present one, interspersed with hours of such compelling passion that Rani had begun to wonder if her life were indeed real. She had never thought real life could contain such a spectrum of quiet happiness and intense excitement. As long as she didn't think about the future, she was free to enjoy it to the hilt.

"I'll get it." Rani tossed a cotton dish towel at Flint. "Here, you can start drying."

He took the cloth with a nod, and Rani headed quickly toward the phone in the living room. Flint had been quite agreeable for the past couple of days, ever since she had squelched his attempt to discuss the future. Perhaps he was secretly relieved at not having to pretend their relationship was of the long-term variety. The last thing she wanted from Flint Cottrell was lies, Rani thought as she lifted the receiver. She could handle anything except lies from him.

"Hello?"

"Miss Garroway, this is Charles Dewhurst. Have I caught you at a bad time?"

Startled, Rani hastily denied any problem. "Not at all, Mr. Dewhurst, but I wasn't expecting to hear from you. Has something happened?" The ring on her hand briefly caught the lamplight. She looked down at it, frowning.

"Not exactly," Charles Dewhurst said in an apologetic tone. "It's nothing really, just some trade gossip that has reached my ears. I thought I would pass it along, although I hesitate to alarm you."

"Alarm me about what?"

Dewhurst cleared his throat, obviously a bit uncertain about how to proceed. "Well, it's about your Uncle Ambrose, my dear. About the accident back East."

Rani's fingers tightened fractionally on the receiver. "What about the accident?"

"My dear, you must realize that one hears a lot of gossip after a man with your uncle's, uh, reputation, dies. The world of gemstones tends to thrive on mystery and rumor. Your uncle knew a great many people both here and abroad, and more than a few suspected he indulged his talents in, shall we say, somewhat shady ways."

"Please, Mr. Dewhurst. Tell me what the problem is."

She could hear Dewhurst taking a deep breath before continuing. "There is talk, my dear, that your uncle's death was not precisely an accident."

Rani went cold. She also went very still, "Not an accident?"

"Now, I've gone and alarmed you and I had no right to do that. I just felt you should know what sort of things are being said. It's all over now, my dear, and I'm sure there's no reason to be concerned, but when I heard the rumors I thought it my duty to pass them along. Please don't take them too seriously. I only mention them in the first place because you were the one who inherited the jewelry."

"But the jewelry is paste! Mr. Dewhurst, are you suggesting Uncle Ambrose was killed?"

"There is a rumor in the business to that effect, I'm afraid," Dewhurst said with a small sigh.

"But it makes no sense. If the jewelry I inherited is all fake…"

"It seems, Miss Garroway, that some people believe your uncle actually had the Clayborne ring in his possession at the time he died. They think he had not yet made the duplicate of the stone."

Rani caught her breath. "Someone believes the emerald is real? That my uncle might have been killed because of it?"

"That's what I have heard. Please, Miss Garroway, there is no need to get upset. You and I both know that if Ambrose ever did have the ring the original is long gone now."

"But what if someone believes I have it? What if whoever killed Uncle Ambrose doesn't know my uncle had time to make the imitation ring and get rid of the original?"

Dewhurst hastened to reassure her, obviously upset at having caused Rani to worry. "Please, Miss Garroway, don't be unduly alarmed. I have done what 1 could to squelch the rumor of the stone being real. I have a certain degree of respect in this field and I have let it be known that I personally saw the ring after you inherited it, I have also let it be known that the duplicate is one of Ambrose's finest works, but that it is definitely glass. With any luck my evaluation will become known to the person who may or may not have been responsible for your uncle's death. I'm sure there is little cause for concern. But since you are now officially the ring's owner, I thought it best that you be notified."