Sweet Fortune (18 page)

Jessie rested her elbows on the arms of the chair and laced her fingers together. She stared sightlessly at a display of glittery evening shoes and contemplated the many similarities she had often observed between Constance and Lilian.

Men are creatures of habit. Second wives often resemble first wives
.

Jessie felt a small chill go down her spine. “I hope I don't look like her,” she whispered, not realizing she had spoken aloud.

Her mother gave her a sharp glance. “What are you talking about?”

“Hatch's first wife. I hope I don't resemble her. I wouldn't want to be a stand-in for a ghost.”

Lilian frowned. “For heaven's sake, Jessie. There's no need to get carried away with the dramatics of the situation.”

“Right. This is business, isn't it?”

“You know, I'm amazed you got Hatch to agree to take a couple of days off just to go up to the San Juans with you,” Lilian said in an obvious attempt to redirect the conversation.

Jessie stared gloomily at the evening shoes. “No big deal when you think about it. Like I said, it's business.’

M
rs. Valentine, ensconced in an old-fashioned rocking chair in the living room of her sister's Victorian-style house on Monday afternoon was looking appreciably improved. But her expression of welcome turned to one of dismay as Jessie concluded her report.

“You're going to go up there? To the headquarters of these DEL people? Oh, dear, Jessie, I don't think that's a good idea at all. Not at all.”

“Don't worry,” Jessie said soothingly. “I won't be alone. Hatch will be with me. And we're just going to look the place over. We're not going to try to rescue Susan Attwood or anything. Remember, we're only trying to find some evidence that Bright is a phony.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Valentine said again. Her fingers toyed nervously with a deck of tarot cards in her lap. “Have you told Mrs. Attwood?”

“Of course.” Jessie recalled the conversation with Martha Attwood that had taken place earlier. Mrs. Attwood had been very excited that something concrete was finally going to happen. “She's very anxious for a report. Her main concern is to find out if her daughter is on the island. I'm not sure we'll be able to do that, but we might get lucky. Hatch and I are just going to play it by ear.”

“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Valentine's gaze sharpened abruptly and her hand stilled on the cards. “Jessie, I'm getting a feeling about this situation. A real feeling. Do you understand?”

“A psychic sort of feeling? Mrs. V, that's wonderful. Maybe you're getting back some of your natural ability.”

Mrs. Valentine shook her head in frustration. “It's not that clear. Not like these things were before I fell down the stairs. But I think there's something dangerous in all this. I can sense that much. Jessie, I do not like this. Not one bit. I think it would be better if you don't go to the island.”

“But, Mrs. Valentine, all I'm going to do is get a look at what's going on up there at the DEL headquarters. And I've already promised Mrs. Attwood I'll go.”

Mrs. Valentine sighed heavily. “Then promise me one thing.”

“Of course, Mrs. V. What is it?”

“That you will not do anything rash. Promise me you will stay with Sam Hatchard at all times. He does not strike me as a rash or reckless man. I think we can rely on his good sense.” But Mrs. Valentine did not appear completely certain of that analysis.

Jessie's Aunt Glenna phoned to put in her two cents' worth on Monday evening.

“Lilian tells me you've tracked down this DEL outfit and you're going up to take a look at the headquarters tomorrow,” Glenna Ringstead said in a disapproving tone. “Do you really think that's a good idea, Jessie?”

“I'm not going alone, Hatch will be with me.” Jessie was learning that using Hatch's name was rather like waving a talisman in front of all the people who had serious doubts about the expedition to the island. They all seemed to calm down a little when they found out he was going to be going along.

“I see.” There was a distinct pause on the other end of the line. “I assume that the relationship between you and Hatch has taken a more serious turn, then?”

“Uh-huh.” Jessie did not know what else to add. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was already after seven. She wondered if Hatch had left the office yet. “But don't get too excited, Aunt Glenna. I admit I'm attracted to the man, but can you honestly see me marrying him? It would never work.”

“No,” Glenna said quietly. “It wouldn't. As much as everyone would like to have you marry Sam Hatchard, I have to admit it would probably be a disaster for you, emotionally.”

Jessie clamped her fingers more tightly around the phone and swallowed heavily. It occurred to her that her aunt's response was not what she had wanted to hear. Had she actually been hoping Aunt Glenna would, like everyone else, blindly reassure her that things could work between herself and Hatch? “Well, I've got to pack. I'll talk to you when I get back, Aunt Glenna. And thanks for recommending all those books on cults. I've learned a lot.”

“You're welcome.”

The roar of the seaplane's prop engines made conversation virtually impossible. Jessie peered out the window as the pilot eased the craft down into the cove and taxied toward the floating dock. The headquarters of the Dawn's Early Light Foundation did not look at all like the sort of facility she had been expecting to house a group of strong-minded environmentalists.

The pilot, a young man in his early twenties dressed in a spiffy blue-and-white uniform and wearing an engaging grin, chuckled as he shut down the engines. “Not quite what you anticipated, I'll bet. Most visitors are surprised. I guess they expect us to be living in caves and munching on roots and berries.”

“Well, I certainly didn't expect anything as plush as this,” Jessie admitted, surveying the magnificent old mansion that overlooked the cove. “Did you, Hatch?”

Hatch shrugged as he opened the cabin door and stepped out onto the gently bobbing dock. “Who knew what we'd find up here? Bunch of weirdos running around trying to save the world.”

Jessie smiled apologetically at the pilot. “Don't pay any attention to him. He's a confirmed skeptic. I'm afraid I'm guilty of more or less dragging him up here today.”

“Sure. I understand. A lot of the people I fly in here are skeptical at first. Your guides are on their way. Enjoy your tour.” The pilot smiled his charming smile again. He stood with his booted feet braced slightly against the motion of the dock, the breeze ruffling his sandy hair.

He looked extremely dashing in his crisp uniform, Jessie thought. He certainly had the build for it. Jessie eyed the broad shoulders and chest and wondered if he lifted weights as a hobby. With his breezy, all-American good looks and smile, he could have been any corporate pilot working for any private business anywhere. The name engraved on his name tag was Hoffman.

“When does this famous tour begin?” Hatch demanded, glancing at his watch. “Haven't got all day, you know.”

Jessie winced in embarrassment and shot another apologetic glance at Hoffman. “Please, dear,” she murmured, doing her best to sound like a placating wife, “don't be so impatient. It's a lovely day and I'm sure we're going to enjoy the visit.”

“Enjoy myself? Don't be an idiot. If I wanted to enjoy myself, I'd have gone fishing. I wouldn't have agreed to waste my time up here.”

“Yes, dear.” Jessie hid a quick smile. Hatch was putting on an act, of course. But he was awfully good at it and she suspected he was well and truly into the role. Probably because he really did think this jaunt was a waste of time and effort.

It had been Hatch's idea to adopt the facade of a married couple. “It'll be sort of like playing good-cop/bad-cop,” he'd explained on the drive up from Seattle. “You'll be the gullible, easily influenced, weak-brained little wifey who buys into the whole save-the-world scene.”

“Thanks. What part do you get to play?”

“I will be the cynical, jaded, tough-minded husband who has to be convinced.”

“You don't think it'll work if we reverse the roles?” Jessie suggested dryly. “I could play the cynical, jaded, tough-minded wife and you could play the gullible, easily influenced, weak-brained husband.”

“Are you kidding? You're a natural for your part, already. You're the one who can't say no to anyone, remember? If it hadn't been for me, you'd probably own a couple of hundred shares of a company that makes fat-free cooking oil by now.”

“You know something, Hatch? If that company's stock goes up in the next six months, I'm going to hold you personally responsible for reimbursing me for whatever profits I don't make.”

He'd smiled faintly. “What happens if the stock goes down?”

“Why, then, I'll be forever grateful, of course.”

“I could live with that.”

The trip had gone smoothly until this point, Jessie reflected as she watched two figures come down the path toward the cove. It had been almost like setting out on a mini-vacation with Hatch. She'd felt a flash of pure sensual anticipation as she'd watched him load their overnight bags into the trunk of his Mercedes.
She was going off to spend a night with her lover
.

She was having an affair.

“Affair” was the only word she could come up with to describe Hatch's role in her life at the moment. She refused to call their relationship an “engagement” as Hatch insisted on doing and she could not bear to think of it as a one-night stand. That left “affair.”

“I'll introduce you to your guides,” Hoffman, the pilot, said cheerfully as a man and woman from the mansion stepped onto the bobbing dock. “This is Rick Landis and Sherry Smith. Rick, Sherry, meet Mr. and Mrs. Hatchard.”

Jessie nodded politely. “How do you do? We really appreciate your taking the time to tour us around your facility.”

“Glad you could make it,” Rick Landis said, smiling respectfully at Hatch. He had the same sort of open, easy charm the pilot displayed. His dark hair was trimmed in a short, clean-cut style and he was wearing the same blue slacks and military-style white shirt that comprised the pilot's uniform. He looked to be about the same age as Hoffman, somewhere in his mid-twenties, perhaps. And he appeared to be in the same excellent physical shape.

“Didn't have much choice,” Hatch muttered, fleshing out his disgruntled-husband role nicely. “Wife insisted on this little jaunt. Had my way, we'd have gone to Orcas for a couple of days instead.”

“Oh, I think you'll find our little island is even more lovely than Orcas Island,” Sherry Smith said earnestly. A young woman, no more than nineteen or twenty at the most, she seemed much more intense than either Hoffman or Landis. She was also quite attractive, Jessie could not help but notice. Her hair was long and honey-colored and the blue-and-white outfit she was wearing showed off her narrow waist and flaring hips.

“It's certainly beautiful here,” Jessie gushed, as if anxious to make up for her surly husband. She made a show of surveying the scenery, which consisted of the cove, a rocky beach, and the old mansion. A thick forest of green, mostly pine and fir, rose up behind the great house. “Just lovely.” She batted her lashes at Hatch. “Isn't it, dear?”

Hatch slanted her a wry glance. “It's okay. Can we get on with this four-hundred-dollar tour? I'd like to get back to our inn in time for dinner.”

“By all means,” Landis said. “I'm sure that after the tour you'll feel the four-hundred-dollar donation to the DEL Foundation has gone to a terrific cause. Follow us, please.” He turned and led the way back up the path toward the mansion.

“I'll give you some quick background first,” Sherry said. “The island was originally owned by a timber baron who made his fortune back in the early nineteen hundreds. He had this beautiful house built as a retreat and as a place to entertain his guests.”

“How did DEL get the place?” Hatch asked.

“It was donated to the foundation a few months ago by the last surviving member of the family. Dr. Bright took advantage of the offer to move his headquarters here. The previous owner was a strong supporter of DEL.”

“Was?” Hatch glanced at her.

“She was a very old woman,” Sherry said sadly. “She died not long after she had put DEL in her will.”

“Kind of appropriate, isn't it?” Jessie murmured. “Using a timber baron's old home as the base for an environmentalist operation. Poetic justice.”

Landis chuckled. “Not quite. But I'll explain that part later. The general routine is to start with a video presentation of the work of DEL.” He opened the front door of the huge house and ushered his visitors into a vast paneled hall. “The show will give you an overview of what we're doing.”

“No offense,” Hatch muttered as he followed Jessie into a small auditorium, “but I'd have thought a bunch of radical environmentalists would have wanted something a little more environmentally efficient than this old pile of stones. Must cost you a fortune to heat it in the winter.”

Sherry shook her head sadly as she handed him a plastic cup of coffee. “I'm afraid that, like most people, you don't really understand what DEL is all about yet. But you will soon.”

Jessie eyed the cup of coffee Sherry was offering. “I'll admit I didn't expect to see anyone up here using plastic cups.”

Landis nodded, his handsome face turning more serious. “I understand what you must be thinking. Have a seat and let me run the video. That should give you a good idea of what DEL is really doing.”

Jessie sat down beside Hatch in one of the plush auditorium seats. She glanced around quickly as the lights were dimmed.

“Know what this reminds me of?” Hatch asked under cover of a rousing musical score that heralded the film.

“What?”

“The kind of expensive presentation prospective clients get when they fall into the clutches of some slick real-estate-investment outfit.”

Jessie scowled in the darkness. “Hush. They'll hear you.”

Hatch shrugged and sat back as the show began. A deep, concerned, masculine voice filled the room:

Most of the scientific community is well aware that the environment is on the verge of disaster. It will be a disaster every bit as catastrophic as the nuclear winter that would be caused by a third world war. Each day the radioactive waste piles up in our oceans. Acid rain destroys our agricultural lands. The destruction of rain forests threatens the very air we breathe
.