Homecoming (23 page)

“That’s Wyatt,” Ellen whispered.

“
Our
Wyatt,” Federica said, stunned. “How can that be?”

“Hey, ladies.” Jack walked in and hugged Federica. “Ellen, Wyatt’s waiting for you on the Square. You’ll love Lake Clarence. Make sure he tells you the story of how the lake got its name.”

“Is it a Harry Carson story?” Federica asked.

“Yup.”

“You’ll love it,” Federica assured Ellen.

Jack kept his arm around Federica’s shoulder. “By the way, Ellen,” he called out as she reached the door, “try not to shoot Wyatt in the other arm. He’ll need both to negotiate the hairpin turns to the lake.”

Federica shot her elbow into Jack’s side, but he dodged it and chuckled. “Bye, now. Have fun.”

“Bye.” Ellen looked dazed as she walked out.

“She’ll love Lake Clarence.” Jack smiled down at Federica. “It’s gorgeous this time of year. And they’ve got the right weather for it.”

Federica looked out the window at the buttery sunshine. Beautiful weather seemed to be the norm in Carson’s Bluff. Was the weather ever bad here? Maybe it was like Camelot, where it rained only at night.

It was entirely possible.

After all, Carson’s Bluff was magic.

“Jack, why didn’t you tell me Wyatt—” Federica stiffened.

“Why didn’t I tell you Wyatt what?” Jack asked.

But Federica wasn’t listening. Her gaze was riveted to the street visible through Stella’s big plate-glass window where a tall, good-looking man with his arm in a cast was paying off a taxi.

Slowly, reluctantly, she made her way to the door and beckoned. The man recognized her and made his way impatiently across the street without checking for traffic. A cyclist swerved and teetered for a moment before righting himself. The cyclist looked back in disgust, but the man didn’t even break his stride.

“Federica?” Jack came out from Stella’s and put a big hand on her shoulder. She wondered if he felt her tension. She was humming with it. “What’s the matter?”

Federica felt trapped, like a fly in a web. Any movement would make her situation worse.

“Honey?” Jack shook Federica’s shoulder gently and bent to peer at her face. “What is it?”

“Trouble,” Federica said.

She’d been dreading it, and here it was. In a way, it was almost a relief that the worst had happened. She’d avoided even thinking about it, but in the end that hadn’t done her any good at all.

The future had arrived.

The man walked up the steps of Stella’s and looked Federica up and down. He had dark blond hair combed straight back and an arrogant cast to his handsome features.

“Hello Russell,” Federica said calmly. “How are you?”

It wasn’t an idle question. There was something…odd about him. When she was a little girl, her riding instructor warned her against horses with a wild look to them. If Russell were a horse, he couldn’t be ridden.

Usually so controlled, he was quivering with tension. Normally impeccably dressed and groomed, his grey lightweight wool suit was rumpled, as if he had slept in it. The silk burgundy and blue tie had the knot opened down to the second shirt button. He hadn’t shaved and he had an angry scrape along one cheek. Federica pointed to the cast on his arm. “What happened to you?”

“Accident,” Russell said tersely. His eyes roamed restlessly up and down the street. A tic was beginning in one eye. Abruptly, he brought his gaze back to Federica.

“Where the
fuck
have you been, Federica? You haven’t been in touch at all. It’s been highly irresponsible of you. Luckily, I brought all your email messages on diskette so you can get caught up.”

“Sorry,” Federica said softly. “I’ve been ill.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched. “Well, I guess that explains the way you’re dressed.” His disapproving gaze swept from her sneakered feet to her pink T-shirt. “But you’re not sick now, so let’s get going. I want to settle this thing as fast as possible and get out of here. I’ve got business back in San Francisco that needs taking care of.”

Federica’s heart lurched.

It was over.

Jack sucked in his breath in outrage. How could Federica let this jerk talk to her like that? He looked to Federica for permission to punch his lights out, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. Her face was remote and composed.

“It’s all right, Jack.”

She was lying. This wasn’t all right.

“Russell, I’d like to introduce you to the mayor and sheriff of Carson’s Bluff, Jack Sutter. Jack, this is Russell White, head of engineering for Mansion Enterprises.” She drew a deep breath. “Russell will be…helping me in the negotiations. For…the Folly.”

Jack froze. Mansion Enterprises. Negotiations.

The moment he’d been dreading was here. What a fool he was. He’d been hoping that when it came to the crunch, what Federica had found here, with him, would be enough. He had it all set in his head, like a movie. The two of them would walk away into the sunset.

More fool him. Instead of telling this creep to buzz off, Federica was standing stock-still, face completely unreadable and as untouchable as if she were a hologram beamed down from the moon.

She turned to him, but her eyes somehow slid off his face and focused on his shoulder. “How soon do you think we can make arrangements to discuss the…” Federica swallowed, “the sale?”

He needed time. He couldn’t believe that the lovely woman he had started falling in love with could just disappear right in front of his very eyes and leave this…this
clone
in her place.

He needed time alone with her, time they should have taken before to talk things out, instead of pretending that they were living in Never Land. Time to make plans on how to get rid of this idiot and have a good laugh over it. There was
life
to get on with—the lunchtime picnic, meeting Wyatt and Ellen for dinner…

“I don’t know.” Jack stuck his hands in his back pockets. He stalled. “We need to book the room in City Hall, I’ll have to convene the members of the Town Council…” He searched Federica’s face for some clue to what she was thinking.

Give me an idea, honey
, he thought frantically.
Let me know what you want to do, what you want me to do, what your plan is.

There had to be a plan.

“Impossible,” Russell snapped. Jack started counting backwards from ten, just like he’d been taught. “Mansion Enterprises will brook no delays, Mr. Mayor.”

Brook no delays?
What kind of a rock did they find this asshole under?

“If Federica had been doing her duty, negotiations would have already begun.” Russell said stiffly.

Federica tightened her hand on Jack’s arm.

Hand or no hand, Jack was definitely going to clean this guy’s clock.

“She was
sick
, you—” He started forward.

“How about tomorrow morning at 10:00, Russell,” Federica said, and took the wind right out of his sails.

“No.” The tic around Russell White’s eye became more pronounced. “Now.” He checked his wafer-thin gold watch and Jack hated him even more. “It’s noon. I suggest we meet at four. A lot of time has been wasted already.” A polished English shoe tapped an impatient staccato on the wooden porch.

Jack looked at Federica. This was her cue to tell this idiot where to get off.
Come on, honey, this has gone on long enough. It isn’t funny anymore. Tell this jerk to crawl back under his rock and we can go do something important, like have our picnic lunch.

Jack waited.

Federica bent her head. “All right, Russell.” Her voice was low.

She turned back and walked into Stella’s, passing Jack as if he weren’t there.

Russell White remained outside, shoe tapping, eye twitching. Jack followed Federica because he was sworn to uphold the peace and he couldn’t do that while his hands were itching to smash that long, aquiline nose into that bland, handsome face.

Federica stopped inside Stella’s and took a long look around. Stella must have sensed something because she was standing stock-still, a tea towel in her hand. Federica tried to savor this moment, the last one in which the people here were her friends.

It was all slipping away, like sand through an open-fingered hand and she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

She glanced out the window at Russell, whose head was swiveling back and forth, checking out Carson’s Bluff.

It’s a nice place, Russell
, she wanted to say to him.
Let’s not spoil it
. But of course, the words would be wasted.

For a moment, she wanted to run away. Hide up in the Folly forever, away from her duty. But duty had found her out, and was waiting outside with a twitch in one eye and a tapping foot.

She could send Russell on his way, but others would follow.

This whole business was larger than she was. Larger than Jack and the Town Council, even. Mansion Enterprises had its eye on the Folly. Whether she chose to participate in the negotiations or not, Mansion Enterprises would buy the Folly, and then they would move in and take Carson’s Bluff over.

The Carson’s Bluff she knew would disappear.

It was as simple, as inevitable, as the sun rising in the east every morning. She could walk away, but it would happen anyway. If she participated, there was an off chance she could negotiate slightly better conditions for Jack and the others.

It was the least she could do.

“Newton!” Federica called.

“Yes, Miss Federica.” A smiling Newton appeared at the kitchen door.

“Newton,” she said softly. “I need you to drive me up to the Folly.” She turned to Stella. “Sorry.”

Stella blinked and looked from Federica to Newton. Her face was an expressionless mask.

Newton stood still for a moment, then he slowly reached behind to untie his apron strings. Carefully, he folded the apron and placed it on the bar counter. “Yes, Miss Federica,” he said sadly.

We want you out of Carson’s Bluff as soon as possible.

Federica kept looking at the words on her laptop screen until the letters seemed to burn a hole in her mind.

She was in her room at the Folly and she looked around at the beautiful old bed, the big pine dresser that Wyatt had restored, the intricate vase made by Lilly, the handful of summer daisies and baby’s breath Jack had gathered for her.

Just another hotel room, she tried to tell herself.

In a day or two, when I’m gone to
—she checked the computer screen—
New York, London, Hamburg, Copenhagen, Kiev, I’ll hardly remember it here
.

She could only function if she kept a close watch on her emotions, kept them far, far away, where they couldn’t hurt her.

It was just another deal. She’d negotiated thousands of them. It was her job, after all. To negotiate deals for Mansion Enterprises. For her uncle, her only living relative. And if it tore a hole in her chest, too bad.

Moving carefully, because she felt as if she was at the brim and moving too fast would make her spill over, she untied the straps in her suitcase and burrowed in the clothes there. Her hands moved past the pastel suits she usually wore and picked up a black designer number. She hardly ever wore it, because though it was beautifully cut, it was a little funereal.

But on this occasion it was quite appropriate, because she
was
going to a funeral.

Her own.

Chapter Twelve

“I hereby declare this meeting open,” Jack snarled, and brought the gavel down with enough force to crack open a head.

Pity there wasn’t one handy to crack.

He and Lilly were seated at one table, facing Federica and Russell White across a few feet of space at another table. The two tables were perpendicular to the public area.

He looked around. The meeting room in City Hall wasn’t large. There were six rows of seats, divided by an aisle behind a waist-high wooden railing.

By some invisible messenger service, the word had spread and people were slowly filing in. Instinctively, the citizens of Carson’s Bluff sat together on the right hand side of the aisle. On the left, all the seats were empty except for Newton, sitting stolidly on the front bench, his chauffeur’s cap on his lap.

Jack leaned forward and spoke into the microphone.

“Let the record show that an extraordinary Town Council meeting has been called at 4:00 p.m. on this day the 7th of June, 2005. The Town Council is represented by John Augustus Sutter, Mayor and Sheriff, by Lilly Langtry Sutter Wright, Town Clerk—” The door to the room opened. A grim Wyatt and a subdued Ellen walked in. Wyatt marched straight over and took a seat next to Jack. Ellen sat down next to Newton. Jack nodded to Wyatt, grateful for once for the existence of cell phones. “…and by Wyatt Earp Sutter, Town Treasurer.” He took a deep breath. “Let the record further show that this extraordinary town meeting concerns the possible sale of Lot 448 of the township of Carson’s Bluff, otherwise known as Harry’s Folly, to Mansion Enterprises, established at 423 Richmond Row, Oakland, California. Mansion Enterprises is represented by Mr. Russell White and by Miss Federica Mansion.”