Chapter 7
The bed creaked and shifted in the darkness.
“What are you doing?” Groggily she asked the question. Erin’s eyes fluttered open as she felt Kane stir and move out of bed.
“I have to get up—I have work to do today,” Kane replied and rubbed her tousled head fondly. In the inky blackness of the predawn hours, he could see her. Even after a passionate night of lovemaking, she looked serenely enchanting against the stark whiteness of the bedsheets.
She groaned and rolled over. “But, oh, God, it’s only”—Erin reached for the alarm clock and pulled the luminescent dial within inches of her face and sleepy eyes—”four-thirty in the morning.” There was another agonized groan as she pushed the clock back on the nightstand. “No one in his right mind gets up at this time of day,” she moaned, and stuffed her face back into the downy softness of her pillow.
The bed sagged under Kane’s weight and he pressed a warm kiss against her forehead. “Do you want me to stay until dawn?” he asked quietly. “What about your tenants, not to mentioned our fellow bankers? You were the one who didn’t want our relationship open for public viewing,” he reminded her. “Besides all of that nonsense, I need a shower, shave and a change of clothing.”
Even to Erin’s cobweb-filled mind, Kane’s reasoning seemed logical and clear. She propped up her head with her hand and tugged at the quilt close to the base of her throat. An autumn chill stung the morning air.
It took a little time, but slowly she began to awaken, and with interested eyes, she watched him get dressed. It was strange how comfortable she felt just being with him, how natural and right it all seemed. But he was correct. The fewer people who knew of their relationship, the better.
Kane left just as dawn was stretching its golden rays through her bedroom window. She listened as his car roared off down the hill and faded in the distance. It was a faraway, lonely sound that retreated into the misty morning air.
It was impossible to fall back into the heavy slumber that had come to her in Kane’s arms. And so, with one final assessing and dubious glance at the clock, she got up, showered and dressed for the day.
Surprisingly, with only a few hours sleep, Erin felt wonderfully refreshed after the hot needlelike spray of the shower pulsated against her skin. She toweled herself dry, applied a thin sheen of makeup, twisted the ebony strands of her hair into her businesslike chignon and stepped into her favorite burgundy suedelike suit. As she tied the broad white bow of her silk blouse she glanced in the mirror, and the woman in the reflection smiled back in genuine fondness. Erin felt good about herself this morning.
Fingers of fog still held the city, but the bright morning sun sent prisms of colorful light streaming heavenward in what promised to be a gorgeous fall day.
Unwittingly Erin smiled as she pushed her way through the large plate-glass doors of the bank building. The dismal feeling of trepidation that had been with her during the transition of ownership of the bank seemed to have disappeared. Even as she brushed by Kane’s office, she felt only a tinge of regret for Mitch. She still had a fondness in her heart for her ex-employer, but she realized that there was nothing that she or anyone else could do to help him. He had never returned any of her calls, although she had left several messages on the mechanical answering device that Mitch had installed. She had tried her best. Now, surely, if he needed to get in touch with her, he would.
As she passed by the outer reception area, she reached, by habit, for her messages stacked neatly on the main reception desk. She smiled inwardly as she read the bold scrawl that she recognized immediately as Kane’s handwriting. It was concise and stated only “Tonight, eight o’clock.” Erin couldn’t restrain the blush that slowly climbed up her neck nor the look of satisfaction that touched the corners of her eyes. She wondered how transparent she must appear.
The secretary who had compiled the messages for her was a professional woman of about sixty, who neither commented nor indicated in any manner that she had read or interpreted the intimate message in Ms. O’Toole’s slot. Relief washed over Erin as she read the look of total disinterest in the gray-haired woman’s smile and the professional “Good morning” that was her usual greeting. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Even before Erin began to move toward her office, the secretary resumed the quick staccato rhythm of her lithe fingers on the keyboard of the typewriter.
It was midafternoon before Erin actually saw Kane again. He was conferring in the hallway with a man whom Erin recognized as a vice president of the loan department. For a quick instant Erin’s mind traveled to the employee loan that she had requested and wondered fleetingly if it was the topic of conversation. From Kane’s reaction she doubted that he was discussing her need for funds.
As she passed the two bankers Kane gave Erin a perfunctory nod of his head to indicate that he had seen her, but there was nothing the least bit intimate in his gesture. It was an act of courtesy to acknowledge an associate. For a moment Erin’s temper began to rise, and she felt angry until she understood the reasons for his discretion and feigned lack of interest in her. It was what she had requested, insisted upon—that their relationship remain secret, clandestine—and he was adhering to her request to the letter.
As she closed the door to her office she found herself still thinking of Kane and the tenuous relationship that existed between them. How could something so wonderful as falling in love with Kane seem so wrong? Why did she feel two conflicting urges warring within her mind? One feminine part of her wanted to share the happiness she had found with him with the world. The other more cautious and rational side of her nature urged her to silence. After all he was still her boss, the man who signed her paychecks, and it would be easy for anyone to misconstrue her feelings and relationship with him. She had been the target of curious and malicious gossip before, and she had vowed never to let herself be put in such an emotional and compromising position again. She knew how devastated she had been eight years ago, and she steeled herself against any intrusions into her private life. She hadn’t wanted to fall in love with Kane; it had just happened. Perhaps, together, they could avoid the speculation and gossip. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult to keep things on a professional level at the office, could it?
Erin lulled herself into a sense of serenity. It was a brilliant autumn afternoon, and other than the slight snub from Kane, the day had gone well. It wasn’t until late afternoon that her tranquil mood was destroyed.
Contrary to what she had expected, Erin had accomplished more work this day than she had in weeks. Kane Webster had seemed to more than amply fill Mitchell Cameron’s shoes, and all the disturbing telephone calls and interruptions that Erin had become used to had vanished. For the first time in over six months she could devote all her attention to the piles of probate work that had accumulated in her “Incoming” basket.
Erin was actually giving herself a mental commendation as she surveyed the clean desktop and slipped into the burgundy jacket before leaving the building. Just as she reached into the open desk drawer for her purse, there was a sharp rap on the door, and Olivia Parsons, not waiting for an invitation, glided into the room.
At the sultry brunette’s entrance, Erin felt a cold tingle of apprehension at the back of her neck. Olivia was holding a clipboard pressed firmly to her breasts and jangled something metallic in the air.
“New keys!” Olivia announced, and dropped a ring of keys with a jingle onto the desktop. The green shimmer of Olivia’s street-length designer dress matched the emerald essence of her eyes. “I’ll need all your old keys,” she stated flatly, and waited, somewhat impatiently, with her long fingers resting against her hip. The action emphasized the long, seductive curve of her leg.
“My keys? Why?”
“Standard procedure, after something like this embezzling thing with Mitch. Who can guess just how many sets of keys he’s had made for any door in this building?”
“Of course,” Erin agreed, and found herself relaxing a little as she realized that Olivia was just doing her job. Erin understood the liability of the bank. Even if Mitch had turned in his set of keys, he could have a dozen copies hidden away. The bank couldn’t take the chance that he might sneak back into the building or the vaults.
“Here they are,” Erin stated, producing the keys from the side pocket of her purse. She handed them to Olivia and the dark-haired girl frowned as she counted them. “Where’s the other one?” Olivia asked, a puzzled expression crowding her neatly arched brows.
“I don’t have any others. Just the key to the front door, the probate file cabinet, and Mitch’s office—unless you want my desk key.”
“No,” Olivia answered, checking the corresponding numbers on the keys against her chart. “What about the key to the securities cart?” she asked, her green eyes reassessing Erin.
“I haven’t had the key to that cart in years,” Erin said, thinking aloud. Absently she rubbed her temple. “It had to have been over seven years ago.” Again a chilly feeling of apprehension swept over her and her stomach began to knot.
“But the ledger here indicates that you should have a key to that cart,” Olivia maintained. Laying the white formal sheet of paper on Erin’s desk, she pointed to a line showing that Erin did, in fact, receive the key in question within the last year.
“It’s a mistakec” Erin sighed. “I never had that key!”
“But aren’t those your initials next to Mitch’s signature?” Olivia pressed.
“Yescit looks like I signed out for the key. But I didn’t. There must be some mistakec.” Her voice trailed off. She knew that she had never had that key. The whole situation was absurd. And a little frightening. Anyone with that key could withdraw negotiable stocks and bonds from the cart if given the right opportunity. A perfect plan for embezzlement. The thought sickened her.
Olivia studied the report for a few seconds more and then, with an elegant wave of her hand, dismissed the subject. “I guess it really doesn’t matter since all of the new locks have already been installed. Just sign here for the new keys and I’ll see that this securities key matter is cleared up.” Erin scribbled her initials next to Olivia’s, relinquished the old set of keys to the leggy brunette and snapped the new ring of keys into her purse.
Just as she was about to leave Olivia paused at the door. She thought for a moment before turning to face Erin once again. Her voice was low as she asked, “What do you think about Mitch?” Her normally lively green eyes had deadened. “Isn’t it awfulc.”
Erin slowly shook her head and rubbed her chin nervously. “I don’t like to think about it—or even talk about it. It’s something that I don’t understand at all,” she confessed, and hoped that the conversation with Olivia had ended. Something about the brunette always made Erin uneasy. But Olivia wouldn’t let the subject die.
“I know what you mean.” Olivia seemed to agree. “I would never have guessed—not in a million years.” She paused once again, her gaze flicking up the length of Erin’s figure as if something else were on her mind. A flame of life leapt into her eyes. “It must be especially hard for you,” Olivia intimated.
“It’s been hard for all of us,” Erin agreed cautiously.
“Yes, but with you it’s a little different, wouldn’t you say?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Oh, sure you do,” Olivia replied as she brushed back an errant wave of thick copper hair. “You don’t have to play naive with me. I know how close you were to Mitch.”
Erin’s patience, which had been thinning ever since the lanky girl had entered her office, snapped. She pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder and said with a coolly professional voice that suggested the subject was closed, “Mitch is a good friend of mine—nothing more!”
“Oh?” The question seemed innocent enough, but the curl of Olivia’s petulant lips suggested disbelief. “The same way that Kane Webster is your good friend?” The color drained from Erin’s face, confirming Olivia’s vicious accusation. “Well, honey,” she continued with an exaggerated wink, “no one can accuse you of not knowing which side of the bread the butter’s on!” After her final invective, and with a self-satisfied smile, Olivia slipped out of the office.
Erin stood in stunned silence in the aftermath of Olivia’s remarks. Although she was alone, she felt a storm of scarlet embarrassment climb up her neck. It was happening again! Already! The gossip had started, and who better to start it than Olivia. Erin swallowed hard, and sagged against the desk. Why had she been so foolish—she should have seen it coming. All the gossip, the knowing glances, the snickering laughter behind her back, all over again!
She let her forehead rest on the palm of her hand as she slowly tried to recompose herself. It had been a good day, she reasoned, and she shouldn’t let Olivia ruin it. But that was the trouble, Olivia had ruined it. Why, after all the years that had passed since the divorce from Lee, did any little biting comment from Olivia still wound her? Eight years had passed since Olivia’s tempestuous affair with Lee. Although at the time, Erin had blamed the slim brunette for the breakup of her marriage with Lee, she knew now that she had been grossly unfair. If Lee hadn’t taken up with Olivia, another pretty face would have caught his wandering eye and lured him away from the bounds of the marriage. Lee was only too willing. It was just unfortunate that Lee had been reckless enough to choose to have an affair with someone whom Erin saw on a daily basis. It seemed to compound the pain.
The problem with the marriage had not really been Olivia, but rather the differences between Erin and Lee. Although Erin recognized that now, she still found it hard to accept Olivia for what she seemed to be: a very knowledgeable and efficient assistant officer of the bank. Although the problems of the past were long dead, Olivia’s presence at the bank and her vicious tongue continued to plague Erin. She never felt that she could completely trust Olivia.
Was she being unfair? Erin asked herself as she once again gathered her purse over her shoulder, straightened her skirt and headed out the door. Perhaps Olivia’s attempt to communicate with Erin about Mitch was only natural. Both Olivia and Erin had cared very much for Mitch, and each had worked for him for nearly a decade. Perhaps Olivia felt the need to lash out because of Erin’s cool attitude toward her. It was just possible that Erin was holding too much of a grudge against the sultry woman who wore the designer dresses and tailored suits with such seductive bearing. Erin sighed heavily to herself. Maybe she had never given Olivia a chance.
But the knot in Erin’s stomach continued to tighten. She just intuitively didn’t trust Olivia. It wasn’t so much what Olivia said that managed to get under Erin’s sensitive thin skin, but the way the words came out. Double entendres, sly winks, suggestive innuendos—all at Erin’s expense.
As Erin found her way downstairs and out to the parking lot, she tried to dismiss the anxious feeling that had seized her with Olivia’s interruption. But as she unthinkingly put the key into the ignition switch of the car, she hesitated and watched, nearly hypnotized, as the other keys jangled and swung near the steering column. How had her name gotten on the list of people who had keys to the securities cart? Try as she would to remember otherwise, she knew that she had never, in the last few months, signed out for that key! And yet the presence of her own initials negated her perception. Would someone within the bank use her good name for his own purposes? Could someone have forged her initials? Mitch, perhaps? Would Mitchell Cameron stoop so low? With a disgusted grunt to herself and a firm shake of her head, she started the car and dismissed her traitorous thoughts. Where had her loyalty gone? Mitchell Cameron had been kind to her, a friend when she needed one most. She wouldn’t turn her back on him now—nor would she imagine that he would use her name for his own advantage. But then, how could she explain about the key? Could it be, as Olivia said, just a mistake? Probably. And yetc
There were still slight traces of fog along the waterfront and in the downtown area of Seattle, but as Erin’s yellow VW climbed the hill that supported the apartment house, the mist thinned and by the time she was home the evening was cool but clear. Only a trace of fog could be seen in the wisps that clung to the dark waters of the distant sound.
It was nearly seven, and Erin wanted to dash up the stairs to get ready for Kane, but propriety stopped her. She set her purse and briefcase on the lowest step of the staircase and knocked softly on Mrs. Cavenaugh’s door.
A curious blue eye peeked at her through the peephole. Then quickly the door opened, and the slightly bent figure of Milly Cavenaugh greeted Erin with a warm smile.
“Good evening, Erin. I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Mrs. Cavenaugh said cheerily, and winked broadly at her young landlady.
Erin’s face creased with anxiety. “Why not? Didn’t the repairmen show up?”
“Did they everc.” Mrs. Cavenaugh replied with a disapproving purse of her lips. Disgust darkened her eyes and she shook her head as she remembered. “They were herecan entire battalion of themctracking in mud and heaven-knows-what-else into the house!” Erin’s eyes followed the sweep of Mrs. Cavenaugh’s hand as it included the front porch, entry hall and stairway. The oaken planks of the hallway were, indeed, imprinted with scrambled tracks of mud-laden, booted feet.
“Did they finish the job?” Erin asked, dragging her eyes away from the mess on the floor and back to her elderly tenant.
“Partially, I think. It seems that it’s going to take more work than the original estimate showed,” Mrs. Cavenaugh announced, thinking carefully.
“More work? Why?” Dollar signs flashed in Erin’s mind.
“Something about dry rot in the floorboards, I think,” Mrs. Cavenaugh explained with a shrug of her bent shoulders. “I’m sorry, dear, I really didn’t pay too much attention—I was too busy trying to get them to wipe the dirt off their boots.”
Erin felt her heart sink. Dry rot? What was that exactly? Something to do with the condition of the subfloor and support beams, she thought. It sounded like it would cost money—lots of it.
“Is something wrong, Erin?” Mrs. Cavenaugh asked, assessing the worried look that had appeared on Erin’s face. “Would you like to come in and sit for a moment? I could brew a pot of teac.”
Forcing herself to smile, Erin shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong, Mrs. Cavenaugh. I was just a little surprised to find out about the dry rot.”
“Oh, it’s probably nothing to be concerned about anyway,” the elderly lady thought aloud, dismissing the subject with an expansive wave of her hand. Her pale blue eyes took in the concerned look on Erin’s features before asking the question that had been entering her head ever since she had seen Erin through the peephole.
“How did things go at work today?”
Erin was still concentrating on the bad news of the dry rot, wondering how extensive the damage was and just how many hundreds or thousands of dollars it would take to correct the problem. Mrs. Cavenaugh’s question startled her.
“Pardon me?”
“Work. The new boss. How’re you two getting along?” Thinly veiled interest sparked in her kindly blue eyes.
Erin pulled out of her reverie at the mention of Kane. “Everything’s going just fine, I guess. Mr. Webster seems to be quite capable.”
“And Mr. Cameron?” the old lady coaxed inquisitively.
Once again concern clouded Erin’s violet eyes. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I haven’t been able to reach him.”
Mrs. Cavenaugh played with the strand of pearls at her neck and clucked her tongue. She wagged her head in disbelief. “I read about it in the papers. Embezzlement—it’s a nasty business.”
‘I just wish that I could talk to him,” Erin sighed, and leaned heavily against the banister of the staircase. “It’s all so hard for me to accept.”
“But your Mr. Websterc”
“He’s not my Mr. Webster,” Erin interrupted, her cheeks coloring in indignation. Mrs. Cavenaugh’s blue eyes sparkled more brightly.
“Whatever,” she replied with a dismissive shrug. “What does he think?”
“Oh, he’s convinced that Mitch is guilty,” Erin murmured, her slim fingers running along the clean cool lines of the wooden railing. Talking about Mitch and the embezzlement drained Erin, and she realized that she shouldn’t be discussing bank business with her neighbor. She straightened her shoulders and changed the subject to a less personal issue. “Have you seen Mr. Jefferies?” she asked Mrs. Cavenaugh, and motioned toward the apartment on the other side of the staircase. “He hasn’t changed his mind about vacating his apartment, has he?”
“As a matter of fact, I saw him this morning when I was getting my mail,” the gray-haired woman replied importantly. “No, his daughter insists that George will be better off closer to his family.” With a catty wink the wrinkled woman continued, “He is getting on in years, you know.”
Erin suppressed the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She knew for a fact that Mr. Jefferies was a good ten years younger than Mrs. Cavenaugh, although the sprightly little old lady would be loathe to admit it.
Erin lifted her shoulders in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, well, you win some and you lose some. I guess I’d better put an advertisement in the Times and put the Vacancy sign back up. It seems that I just took it down!”
“Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” Mrs. Cavenaugh asked, shaking a knowing and gnarled finger in Erin’s surprised face.
Erin laughed in spite of herself. “Everybody and anybody. Or so it seems.”
“Well, they’re right! And what does all that worry get you? Nothing but stomach ulcers and trouble! Now, you take my advice, and—what is it they say these days—you loosen up!”
Erin grinned and impulsively gave the little old woman a bear hug. “You’re right,” she murmured, and patted the elderly woman’s frail shoulder.
“Of course I am! You should do yourself a favor and listen to me more often,” Mrs. Cavenaugh rejoined with a proud lift of her chin. “Andcif you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll put your hooks into that Webster fellow in a big hurry!”
“Mrs. Cavenaugh! Have you been spying on me?” Erin inquired with mock dismay.
The older woman shook her gray head savagely. “Just looking out for your best interests, honey. That’s all!” Then, with a dismissive shrug of her thin shoulders, she added, “Call it spying, if you will. But somebody’s got to take care of you. I saw the way that ex-husband of yours treated you—and I want to make sure that you don’t get hurt againc”
Erin tried to protest, but the severity of Mrs. Cavenaugh’s wizened blue eyes held her tongue.
“Nowcthis Webster fellow, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“And?”
“Unless I miss my guess, which isn’t very often, I’d say he’s fallen head over heels for you!”
“You can’t be serious!”
But the knowing and pleased look on Mrs. Cavenaugh’s weathered face added silent conviction to the little old lady’s words.
“IcI had better be running along,” Erin said a little breathlessly as she thought about Mrs. Cavenaugh’s words. Could she possibly be right? Erin picked up her purse and her briefcase and called over her shoulder, “Don’t worry about the mess in the hallway, Mrs. Cavenaugh. I’ll have the janitor clean it in the morningc.”
“Oh, Erin,” the lady at the bottom of the stairs beckoned.
“Yes.” Erin turned to look back down at her, and she could tell that the woman was struggling with some sort of decision.
“I thought that maybe you’d want to know—Lee was here today, asking about you.”
“What?”
“He left you a note, I think.” Her blue eyes beseeched Erin. “Everything’s okay, isn’t it?”
Erin hesitated only slightly. “Of course,” she managed, but she heard the hollow sound of her own words. As she mounted the final stairs to her apartment, she heard Mrs. Cavenaugh’s door close and the sharp sound of a bolt being turned in the lock. All of the airy feeling that had cascaded over her from Mrs. Cavenaugh’s suspicions about Kane’s feelings for her had vanished at the mention of Lee. As she thought about it Erin wondered how the little old lady had even seen Kane, but there was something in Mrs. Cavenaugh’s pale blue eyes that bothered Erin. The dear little woman really believed that Kane was falling in love with her. But how would Mrs. Cavenaugh even suspect?
Erin shook her head and pulled the pins from her hair as she closed the door to her loft. If only she could believe that Kane could love her or at least learn to love her. Erin’s vivid imagination began to run wild.
But just as her heart began to race in anticipation of Kane’s love, her rational mind cooled her response. What about the wariness she had sensed in the steely depths of Kane’s gray eyes? Why did she always feel that he was studying her—trying to read her mind? Why did she feel that he didn’t completely trust her? Her blood cooled and a shudder raced up her spine. The situation was impossible.
It was then that she noticed the white envelope that had been shoved under her door. The note from Lee.