Heart Of Gold (29 page)

“Storms
are comin',” the man said. “Gonna be some bad ones.”

“When
are they going to hit us?” Nick asked numbly. He felt as though they had
already arrived.

“Tomorrow
afternoon. They'll last into the night.”

Nick
looked up at the high, thin clouds. “Looks fine now.”

“Things
change. Anyway,” Ivan continued, “I'll be settling the boats real
good tomorrow and pulling in the lawn chairs. May even batten down the shutters
on the north side of the house. Hey, you all right?”

“No,
I'm not. I'm not okay at all.” Nick started across the meadow, feeling
bereft and pissed off at himself.

He scaled
the mountain quickly, thinking only of Carter. He was worried that she might
bolt from the dig. Disappear from his life altogether.

He was
glad he knew where she lived.

When he
got to the camp site, he didn't see anyone around. He was about to head over to
the dig when she appeared out of her tent, a logbook in her hand. She stopped
short when she saw him, and he watched as anguish flared in her face. It was
covered quickly by anger.

“For
Chrissakes, can't you just leave me alone?” Her voice was strong and sure.

He
approached cautiously. "Carter, please. Let me—

“Why
did you bother coming up? You want to pick over the carcass?” She marched
over to the office area and started rifling through papers. “I'd have
figured mowing me over would have been sufficient. Usually drivers don't back
up to make sure road kill isn't moving.”

“Let
me explain.”

“Wait,
I know. You've come to make sure the job is finished.” She gave a bitter
laugh. “Just in case I survived the first set of tires. As a matter of fact,
we've already been through this whole apology thing a few times before. It
never seems to stick, does it?”

“Carter,
you have to believe that—”

She
wheeled around. “I don't have to believe anything that comes out of
your mouth. I was naive enough to fall for the I-love-you crap. I'm not going
to make that mistake again.”

“I
do love you.”

She
talked right over his words. “One of the first things I ever said to you
was that I don't believe in conversions when it comes to people like yourself.
I should have listened to myself.”

“I
didn't know that he was coming today. I'm sorry—”

“I
don't care that you're sorry! You want to make things right, then tell me you
didn't engineer a reunion between my father and me so he'd be in your
debt.”

Carter
stared at him as he tried to find the right words. When he didn't immediately
offer a denial, she shook her head.

“You
did, didn't you? You set the whole thing up. That's why you let me come here
and dig in the first place, wasn't it? That's why you changed your mind.”

Nick made
sure his voice was even. “Look, in the beginning, I admit that I thought
it was potentially beneficial to try and bring you and your father together. I
knew he missed you and—”

Carter
slammed a folder down on the table. “My family is—was none of your
business. My father can go to hell and take you with him.”

“Listen
to me. As soon as I realized I was falling in love with you, I knew I had to
call the whole thing off. I didn't want to jeopardize us.”

“Then
why didn't you tell me before?”

“I
was going to today but I didn't want to ruin everything.” Nick stepped
forward, and when she started to look around wildly for an escape, he froze.

“What
could your father possibly have done to deserve this,” he murmured.

“My
mother is dead because of him!” she shouted. “Is that enough for you?
Enough to justify to the great Nick Farrell why I choose not to speak to the
man?”

"Carter,
I—”

“But
wait, Mr. Farrell wants the details.” Her eyes were burning as she spoke
in a shrill voice. “My mother and I lived alone while he traveled the
globe racing after business deals and other women. His life was a revolving
door of socialites only too eager to be with a man who had plenty of
connections and a lot of money.”

She
pegged him with a hard look. “Remind you of anyone?”

Nick
flinched.

“Two
years ago, after I'd moved out and my mother had no one but servants in the
house with her, she decided to reach out to him. They fought because he refused
to stay home and talk with her about their marriage. He had to rush to Paris for a really important meeting. After more than twenty years together, you'd
think he could have put off one lousy appointment, but he was far too busy for
that. His driver took him to the airport and my mother got in a car to go after
them.”

Abruptly,
Carter's voice grew quiet. “It took me three hours to get to her bedside
at the hospital and I was almost too late. I watched her die and her last words
were about him. How she loved him.”

Her blue
eyes were so full of pain that it hurt to look into them. He didn't turn away.

“You
want to know where my father was when she died? Over the Atlantic Ocean. By the
time he had the jet turned around and headed back, she was gone.” Carter
pushed a hand through her hair. “My father had the gall to want to give
the eulogy but I refused. I wasn't going to have a philanderer speak in front
of my mother's casket. The last time I saw him up close was when I left him at
the grave site. Until today.”

Nick was
stunned by the story. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh,
no you don't.” She shook her head vehemently. “You don't get to be
sorry. I'm not going to make it so easy for you. You don't get to apologize.
You don't get to explain. I didn't give the man who put my mother in the ground
a chance to and I don't feel inclined to grant you special privileges.
Anymore.”

“Carter,
you've got to let me talk.” His voice was urgent as he prayed she'd find
faith in the better side of him. “I never meant to hurt you—”

“Yeah,”
she shot back harshly, “I believe that. You've always been too distracted
taking care of yourself.”

“Can't
you let me get one word in here?”

“I
have to go back to work.” She picked up a clipboard from the table and
held it against her chest. “You know, you and my father are a lot alike
and I'll bet you've done some terrific deals together. Screwing people comes
naturally to you both.”

Nick
swore in frustration and was about to launch another protest when he froze. Her
eyes were looking straight through him, not even registering his presence.
That, more than anything else, scared him most.

Carter
squared her shoulders. “I'm going to finish the dig. Not because I have
something to prove to you but because I have something to prove to myself. I've
been doing pretty well living alone. I like my life. And I'm not going to lose
any part of it just because you turned out to be exactly who I thought you
were.”

“I'm
not like your father.”

“Then
maybe you need to get to know yourself a little better. You've lived up to your
reputation admirably, and have made me remember why it's important not to trust
people. I'd forgotten, you see.”

“I'm
going to tell your father to go.”

“Don't
bother. I won't be coming down off the mountain again until we're
through.”

Without a
backward glance, Carter walked away, leaving him standing next to the cold fire
pit.

It wasn't
supposed to happen like this, he thought. The end wasn't supposed to come this
soon. Or even at all.

He stood
next to the cluster of gray embers for a long time, looking around the
campsite. He noticed odd things, like how the ketchup bottle on the mess table
was half empty and that there was a pair of sunglass dangling from the
clothesline.

When he
couldn't stand it any longer, when his regrets and recriminations threatened to
overcome him, he went back down to the mansion. He thought about getting in his
car and driving somewhere. Anywhere.

But as
soon as he walked in his front door, he heard Packert's voice calling out for
him.

Smelling
blood, Nick went out onto the porch.

“So
it's the master of the house,” Packert said, holding a short cigar in his
right hand. “You ready to behave civil-like now?”

Nick
smiled with vengeance as he embraced the cold emotion. “If I were you, I
wouldn't be so worried about manners.”

“My
mother raised me right.”

“Perhaps,
but you’ve got other things to agonize over,” Nick drawled. “Trust
me.”

As
Packert squinted up at him, Nick sought out Carter's father. He was sitting in
a wicker chair, dressed coolly in a white linen suit. He was a very elegant,
powerful man, who seemed to have aged twenty years in the last two hours.

Packert
puffed on the nub of his cigar and offered Nick a conciliatory grin. “Say,
why don't you take a load off? You look worn out, old man, and we've got a lot
to talk about.”

“Worn
out?” Nick leaned against a column. “That's funny, I'm feeling rather
aggressive.”

Nick shot
a dark glance across the porch and the man's overconfident smile faltered a
bit.

“Well,
I think that's just fine. I like a strong opponent.” A cloud of smoke was
pushed out of Packert's lips. Behind it, the man's eyes grew sharp. “So
boys, what do you say you all 'fess up to what you're doing?”

Nick's
voice was bored as he answered. “Comm-Trans is in trouble.”

“Trouble?”
Packert laughed. “We've had a couple of challenges over the last year but
the company's doing just fine. No thanks to that dog of a manufacturing
division you off-loaded on us.”

“I
don't think you want to bring that up, do you?”

Packert's
eyes darted away to the end of the cigar.

Nick
continued, his words clipped and clear. “Your company's overvalued,
undercapitalized and debt-heavy. You're sinking fast.”

“I
don't recall opening myself up for insults.”

“Those
are facts, Mr. Packert, not insults.”

“So
what are you gonna do? Buy up my company and kick me out?”

“That's
the plan.”

Packert
was taken aback. “You're serious.”

“I
am,” Nick said darkly. “I don't take my reputation lightly. You
dragged my name through the mud because you failed to manage your own
organization. I can't let that go, can I?”

“Now,
hold up there. I did no such thing.”

“Then
you must have interpreted those front page articles in the Wall Street
Journal differently than everyone else did. You remember, the ones where
you accused me of fraud? I have copies of them, if you need a refresher. And
there's the investigative demand the attorney general of the State of New York served on me. You've heard about that, too, haven't you?”

Packert
began to look truly panicked.

“So
how about dinner?” Nick said. “I think we're having fresh meat.”

After a
tense silence, the other men followed him to the dining room where three places
had been set at the end of the long, elaborately dressed table. It was an awful
meal even though Gertie's food was perfectly cooked. Packert was subdued and
neither Nick nor Wessex were in the mood for conversation.

After the
Texan had grabbed a bottle of bourbon and gone upstairs to bed, Wessex followed Nick into the study.

As soon
as the door was closed, the man asked, “What did she say?”

Nick sat
down at his desk. “She doesn't want to see you. Or me, for that matter.”

“Is
she okay?”

“No.”
He glanced up at Wessex, recalling what his daughter had said about him.

“You're
looking at me strangely,” Wessex murmured. “She told you everything,
didn't she?”

“It's
none of my business.” And Nick wished he'd figured that out much sooner.

“Things
didn't happen as she thinks they did. That's what I've wanted to tell
her.” Wessex stared into space, as if he were reliving the past. But then
his eyes shifted over and met Nick's. “You're in love with my daughter,
aren't you?”

Nick's
eyebrows rose but he didn't hesitate in his answer. “I am.”

At that
moment, the door was flung open with such force, it ricocheted off the  bookshelves
with a crack.

“What
the hell did you do to Carter?” Cort demanded.

Nick
turned to Wessex and said grimly, “Allow me to introduce my—”

“I
don't want to meet another one of your stuffed shirts,” Cort spat. He was
practically vibrating with anger.

Nick
frowned. “You want to try that again?”

Cort shot
the other man a cutting glance. “Do you mind beating it? No offense, but
can't you go shuffle papers somewhere else?”

Wessex's eyebrows
launched upward but he replied in an even tone. “If you're going to talk
about my daughter, then no, I don't want to go shuffle papers somewhere
else.'”

Cort's
eyes widened.

“This
is Carter's father,” Nick said tightly. “Now, how about an
apology?”

“Er—sorry.”
Seeming confused, Cort rubbed the top of his head, making his hair climb to new
heights. “But what are you doing here?”

“Are
you always this blunt?” There was an indulgent cast to Wessex's face, one that surprised Nick.

“When
someone's been trampled by my uncle I get kind of mad. Since he does that a
lot, I guess you could say it's an always kinda thing.” Cort turned
to Nick. “So what did you do to her?”

“Nothing
that concerns you.”

The kid
linked his wiry arms over his chest. “You mean you don't want to talk
about it.”

“That's
right.”

Nick
could feel his temper rise. He was upset as hell at what had happened
with Carter. The last thing he needed was another fight with his nephew.

Cort
huffed. “Just because you don't want to admit to yourself or anybody else
that you're a heartless—”