ShadowsintheMist (9 page)

I expected him to go but instead he looked at the ground and
scuffed the gravel with the heel of his shoe.

“I was wondering if…well…if you know whether you’ll still be
needing a pilot?”

The question took me by surprise and I realized with
sympathy that he’d probably been on tenterhooks since Leo’s death, not knowing
if he still had a job. I gave him a reassuring smile.

“Mr. Fenton will be running the show—for a while at least,
until the will has been probated—and he’ll undoubtedly want to keep you on.
After that…I can’t say just yet but I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

He seemed relieved and smiled, breaking his angular face
into an interesting pattern of creases and showing a beautiful set of teeth.

“That’s good to hear, Miz Dirkston. Thanks.” He touched a
hand to his forehead in salute. “You have a nice day, now,” he said and
sauntered off around the building toward the docks just as David reappeared.

“I hope he wasn’t bothering you,” David said, frowning.

“Not at all. He’s just worried about his job. It’s
understandable.”

“I already told him you’d be keeping him on the payroll and
I’ve put him to work around here too. Guess he wanted to get it straight from
the horse’s mouth. By the way, how did it go this morning?”

I shrugged. “It went as we expected.”

He didn’t seem at all concerned about the will which
surprised me. If he still felt anything for me, it certainly didn’t include
jealousy. Then realization dawned and I grimaced. No one has told him!

“David…” I began but his look of quizzical innocence so
disarmed me I couldn’t continue. The others had obviously tried to “protect”
David, just as they had me. What surprised me most was that even his own father
didn’t have the foresight to prepare him for the shock. Like the cowards they
were, they’d left it up to me.

“Let’s go to lunch,” I said. “We’ve got some talking to do.”

* * * * *

David paced up and down, his beige deck shoes leaving
unstable craters in the loose sand. He rarely indulged in cigarettes but now he
puffed angrily, blowing smoke out through his nostrils like a dragon. Little
beads of perspiration dotted his forehead and upper lip and he wiped them
absently with a handkerchief. It was one of the few times I’d seen him this
upset.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “The old coot must’ve
been mad!”

I bristled at this attack on my father but I understood his
anger. Hadn’t I reacted in just the same way?

“No, David, if he were crazy, we’d have grounds to dissolve
the will.” I was trying my hardest to remain calm.

“Oh, that’s right, Suzanna, make jokes! Don’t you care at
all? Do you have any idea what this means?”

He stopped in front of the picnic table where I sat, his
hands on his hips, cigarette clamped in one corner of his mouth, his fair hair
lifting in the wind.

“Yes, I do,” I replied evenly. “And I wasn’t making jokes.
You seem to think you’re the only one who’s been upset by this. How do you
think I feel? Do you think I want to marry Grant Fenton?”

He continued to glare at me until gradually my words
registered and his expression softened. “I don’t know what to think,” he said. “I
just can’t believe Dad or Colin didn’t tell me about all this before.” He
turned his head and gazed down the beach, dotted with the last of the truly
dedicated sun worshipers.

I shrugged. “I’m sure they thought they were protecting us.”
This was Giles’ argument and I hoped it would work on David.

He snorted. “From what? From the truth? What? Did they think
that by not telling me, it would all go away?”

I grimaced, recalling my identical but futile tirade. “They’re
just cowards, I guess.”

He began to pace again, stooping at intervals to pick up a
stone to heave violently at the azure waves. Finally, his rage spent, he came
to sit down beside me and took a deep, steadying breath.

“What are you going to do?”

I looked away, knowing I couldn’t tell him just yet and add
yet another blow to his already battered ego.

“I’ve taken the will to an attorney in Manistee to see if
there’s anything I can do to get out of this. Until I hear from him, I don’t
intend to do anything.”

“And what if he says there’s nothing you can do?”

I frowned. “Well, I’ll make a decision then.”

Thankfully, he didn’t pursue this line of questioning,
lapsing into thoughtful silence. When he did speak again, it wasn’t what I
expected.

“Has Colin talked to you about the marina?”

“Yes.”

“It sure puts me in one helluva mess! If we go along with
this farce, I lose you. If we don’t, I lose my business.”

I chose not to take exception to his use of the word “we”.
This wasn’t the time for petty grievances. Perhaps it would make him feel
better to think he had a say in the matter.

“You know,” I said hesitantly, “the will says that the
marriage need only last one year. I’ve been thinking, well, that’s not really
so long—and it would, of course, be a marriage in name only.”

He didn’t reply right away, which disappointed me. Again, I’d
hoped for outrage, a declaration that he couldn’t bear to see me marry another
man, no matter how innocent the arrangement—anything to indicate he felt some
sense of devotion to me. Instead, his infuriating logic switched on and he
sighed with resignation, taking my hand absently.

“I suppose if it’s the only way…”

“Besides,” I added haughtily, “you seem to have forgotten it
was me who broke off our engagement.”

He smiled calmly. “I haven’t forgotten.”

His attitude was patronizing and it became crystal clear to
me that he’d never taken our breakup seriously. Livid, I jerked my hand away
and bundled up the remains of our sandwiches to deposit in a nearby rubbish
bin.

He stood up and watched me. “Have I said something?”

I squinted at him against the sun. “Not at all,” I said
through clenched teeth. “But I’ve really got to get home.”

Always the pacifist, he followed me without a word back to
his car. We didn’t say much on the short drive back to the marina but as I
started to get out of the car, he caught my wrist. “You’ll let me know as soon
as this lawyer gets back to you?”

I searched his face but found nothing there to ease my
irritation.

“I’ll let you know,” I said. With an aplomb even Kong would’ve
been proud of, I turned on my heel and marched to my car, driving off before my
frustration got the better of me and I said things I’d regret.

On the way home, I inspected the roadside, glancing down the
many fire trails cut through the forest. There was no sign of the figure who
gave me such a fright. On impulse, I swung the car into the drive leading to
Spindrift. There were no iron gates barring the way here. Giles loved his
privacy but wasn’t obsessed with it as Leo was. Also, as a retired physician
who had inherited a comfortable sum from his wife, he didn’t have to worry
about being invaded by reporters or sightseers as did someone with a powerful
name in high finance.

Spindrift wasn’t small by any means but it was compact,
surrounded by stands of pine, maple and oak. Its brick walls blended with the
rusty autumn leaves and the shadows dancing across its face lent it
chameleon-like camouflage. A little stream gurgled past one corner and cut
across the front yard to lose itself in the forest. The drive traversed this
stream with an arched wooden bridge which barely let out a groan as my car rumbled
across.

There was no lawn, only a modest rock garden with a stone
path that led from the drive to the front door. Rambling ivy stretched
parasitic tentacles across the entire south wall, surrounding the recessed
front door.

I pressed the doorbell and waited, breathing in the musty
aroma of decaying leaves, moss and pine. A squirrel darted down from a nearby
oak and paused to eye me suspiciously, his tiny paws pressed to his chest, his
tail flicking with uncertainty. Deciding I was no threat, he scurried,
snuffling, along the ground and snatched an acorn in his teeth. At that moment,
the front door opened causing the squirrel to drop his prize and dart back up
the tree.

“Suzanna!” Giles smiled warmly. “What a surprise! Do come
in.”

He held the door open and I went past him into the cooler
recesses of the house. Here the earthy autumn scents followed, tinged by a
richer medley of linseed oil, leather and wood. The hall in which I stood was
dark except for the muted sunlight filtering in through narrow etched and
frosted windows at either side of the door. The floor was gray slate, the walls
paneled in rich cedar and two potted palms contributed to the wooded
atmosphere.

Giles appeared genuinely glad to see me.

“I had lunch with David and just didn’t feel like going home
yet,” I explained.

“Well, I was only cleaning up a bit,” he said. “Martha will
be here soon and I do like to help as much as possible. Unfortunately, I’m
hopeless when it comes to domestic chores. She’d be furious if she knew.”

I laughed, knowing as well as he that his meager attempts at
tidying the house would go unnoticed under Martha’s critical eye.

I followed him down the long, narrow passage to a huge
living room, dazzling in comparison. A massive wall of glass rose to a
cathedral ceiling, very reminiscent of a Swiss chalet except, instead of
snow-capped mountains and grassy foothills, it framed rolling dunes, forested
windbreaks and the glittering turquoise of the lake beyond.

The house was split-level. The room we now occupied jutted out
from the hill supported by heavy uprights that created a cavern-like area
below. This was paved with brick and screened in as a patio. From one side of
the house, wooden steps followed a steep, winding descent through overhanging
trees to meet up with a path to the beach. It was a far cry from Beacon’s
manicured lawns and gardens but it suited the environment and I found it
charming.

I descended the two steps to the sunken sitting area, which
was carpeted in soft blue and bordered by cream-colored well-stuffed sofas and
chairs. I accepted Giles’ offer of coffee and sat down as he disappeared into
the kitchenette. Bordering the sitting area were huge rectangular planters,
lush with a variety of ferns and greenery that delighted in the warmth and
light of the room.

“How did the reading go?” he asked, placing a steaming cup
before me and settling down in a nearby chair.

I shrugged. “I was hoping it’d be different from what we all
expected but unfortunately, Colin’s sources were all too accurate.”

He frowned. “And have you decided what you’re going to do?”

I shook my head. I was tired of answering the same
questions. Besides, I had something else on my mind.

“Giles,” I began, then hesitated. How should I approach the
subject? “David didn’t know about the will,” I said, leaving the statement to
pose its own question.

He set his cup down, appropriately sheepish. “I know. I just
couldn’t find a way to tell him.” He glanced up, his even, white brows coming
together. “You told him?”

I nodded.

He sighed. “I suppose he’s furious.”

“He has every right to be.”

His expression changed to one of worry and I softened. “I
think he understands now, though. He’ll just need time to adjust.” I swirled
the coffee in my cup, watching the reflections dance on the lip. “I think if we
all just look at this as one short year, it’ll be easier to accept.”

“So, you have decided.”

I tilted my head. “If I’ve no other choice, yes.”

He was obviously relieved and I wondered why. But, of
course, David’s business future would be of primary importance to him. Love and
marriage, to an old-fashioned man like Giles, was secondary to financial
success. It was a common belief among men of his era that career, money and
power were the keys to happiness and a wife and children were simply ornaments
attesting to that success. There was no point in resenting this attitude. It
wasn’t one he’d consciously adopted. Giles was set in his ways. It would take
another generation to open the way for change.

“Well,” I said at last, “we’ve still got ten days to decide.
Perhaps we’ll find a more recent will before then.”

I meant the remark to sound light and jovial but Giles
choked and nearly dropped his cup.

“I was kidding!” I exclaimed, pounding him on the back until
he caught his breath. He smiled an apology through watery eyes and finally
recovered himself.

“Don’t surprise me like that,” he gasped, half-laughing. “You
don’t really think…?”

“Of course not! Dad was too organized.”

He nodded, satisfied and rose to pour another cup of coffee.
I watched him with a puzzled frown, wondering why I was suddenly so suspicious
of everyone—even Giles, whose reaction smacked of something more than just
surprise.

I didn’t stay much longer at Spindrift. I could see a bank
of black threatening clouds piling up in the distance and knew it would rain
soon. Giles walked with me to the car, mentioning he wouldn’t be around for
dinner since he had a previous engagement in town. I thanked him for his
hospitality and put the key in the ignition.

Then I remembered the incident on the highway. “Do you
happen to know if there are any campers in the woods between here and
Ludington?”

“No, not that I know of. Why? You haven’t had any trouble?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just thought I saw someone
standing in the road.” I smiled, realizing how silly it sounded. “The more I
think about it, the more I think it was just my imagination.”

He shook his head. “You’ve had a lot on your mind, Suzanna.
But perhaps it was a hitchhiker. You know, there are more and more of them
around these days.”

“Yes. Perhaps you’re right,” I said. But I didn’t think the
person or thing I saw was a hitchhiker. The apparition stood quite immobile in
the center of the road and disappeared too suddenly after I stopped.