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Jen pulled away from Adam, only to find her mother peering out at them. Even from this distance, Jen could see the satisfied glint in her mother’s eyes. Behind Beth Hillard, several other faces peered out with interest, too. It was impossible to tell how long Jen and Adam’s embrace had provided a source of entertainment for the other guests, but Jen’s mother fairly beamed. She gave Adam and Jen a perky little wave from the doors of the ballroom.
“Damn,” Adam said. And Jen had to agree.
CHAPTER FOUR
O UT OF SORTS. That was the only way Adam could describe how he felt this morning. Out of sorts, as if everything in his life had subtly shifted and become just a little displaced. Could he blame this sensation on his problems with the newspaper? Or could it be the fact that his ex-wife was back in town? Back in Newport.
Adam didn’t know the answer. Apparently he didn’t know a whole hell of a lot about his life anymore, and that bothered him as much as anything. He was accustomed to being in control. Not that long ago he’d known exactly where he was headed, but these days it seemed that all the familiar signposts were gone.
For the moment, Adam stood in front of the Newport offices of Hillard Enterprises, the shipping firm that had provided his ex-wife’s family with a substantial fortune over the past few centuries. The firm was a venerable one, originally founded by Jen’s shipbuilding ancestors in the early 1700s. Not that Jen’s forebears had been all that respectable; the family history included tales of smuggling and privateering–more than a few skeletons in the closet. These days, however, Hillard Enterprises occupied itself with the mundane details of supervising its fleets, calculating tonnages and monitoring worldwide freight rates.
Even with branches in New York, San Francisco and London, the firm still maintained its original small building in Newport–almost a museum, really. Adam studied the place: its bricks mellowed with age to an ocher red, the ancient window sashes painted a fresh white as if to belie their years, the hipped roof giving the structure a rather ponderous, top-heavy air. Heritage. The place was all about heritage. It stirred something in Adam, some restlessness he couldn’t quite define. More vague dissatisfaction, it seemed. He didn’t like it, but once again he didn’t seem able to do anything about it. He also didn’t seem able to do anything about the way his ex-wife kept coming to mind. Jen, with her gray eyes and her dark hair tumbling to her shoulders….
Adam pushed open the front door of Hillard Enterprises and passed through a room where relics of the business were carefully preserved: yellowed maps, old-fashioned typewriters and adding machines, framed photographs of Hillard ships through the generations, even a crusty old anchor dating back some two hundred years. Adam climbed a simple, graceful staircase of polished pine, walked down the second-story hallway and knocked on a closed door.
“Come in,” called a voice that quavered just a little, like a scratchy phonograph recording. Adam pushed open the door and walked inside an office where the walls were paneled in more glossy pine. All of this honey-colored wood gave the room an impression of airiness, as if Adam had just stepped into a forest clearing. Jen’s great-uncle William was seated by the window in a slatted chair, taking full advantage of the early-morning sunlight. Recently old William had been complaining that Newport weather had become too brisk even in the summer. William liked to theorize about changes in the earth’s atmosphere, refusing to admit that his own advancing years might account for stiff joints and cold toes.
“Adam–right on time,” William said with obvious approval. Adam shook William’s hand with the requisite formality. He’d known William Hillard all his life, and he also knew how much William appreciated the small grace notes of respect.
Now Adam took a seat across from the elderly gentleman. “You made things sound pretty urgent on the phone, William. I came right over.”
William nodded. “Yes, it’s a matter of some importance. But where is Thomas? He knows we can’t start without him. He does this sort of thing on purpose–”
“Contain yourself, Will,” Thomas Hillard said from the doorway. Thomas, William’s older brother, had turned eighty this year. He walked slowly and stiffly into the room. As stubborn as his sibling, he refused to make concessions to his age and wouldn’t use so much as a cane to help himself get about. The Hillard brothers had other similarities. They were both tall and thin, and they both had snowy white hair. In some ways, however, the two old men were a study in contrasts. William wore outmoded flannel trousers and an equally outmoded cardigan; Thomas wore an elegant, hand-tailored suit. William favored drab, unobtrusive colors; Thomas sported a jaunty red handkerchief in his jacket pocket. The two old guys reminded Adam of a set of mismatched bookends.
William watched with a frown as his brother lowered himself inch by inch into a chair. “You’re almost late, Thomas.”
“Check your watch, Will. I still have fifteen seconds to spare.” Thomas finally settled all the way into his chair and gave Adam a roguish smile. “You’re in for it today, my boy. Will’s on a tear about Jenna.”
Somehow this didn’t come as a surprise to Adam. William was always on a tear about his great-niece.
“I’ll explain, given the chance.” William stared at his older brother, looking peeved, but that was nothing new, either. William always looked peeved with Thomas. “Adam, we’re worried about Jenna. Very worried, I might add–”
“Speak for yourself, Will,” Thomas interrupted. “I’m not worried about Jenna at all. It’s the best thing she could do for herself, kicking up her heels in New York. Let her have at it, that’s what I say.”
William looked more annoyed than ever. Now he pointedly ignored his brother, addressing Adam once again. “We called you here so you could do something about Jenna before it’s too late. This escapade of hers has gone on long enough. Keep her in Newport, Adam. That’s what we’re asking.”
Thomas interrupted once more, lifting a hand that shook slightly. “Calm yourself, Will. I think it’s fine that Jenna wants to be an actress in New York. Just fine.”
Now it was Adam who glanced at Thomas. “Jen? An actress? What are you talking about?”
Thomas’s expression seemed purposely bland. “You haven’t suspected? But it’s true, you know. That’s why Jenna ran away to New York–to become an actress.”
Adam stood and began pacing. This office, for all its sunlight and airiness, felt too confining. Perhaps it was the age of the place, or the age of its inhabitants, but Adam felt restless. Besides, he was having a difficult time accepting this claim Thomas had just made. Jen, an actress. He’d been married to her all those years, and she’d never once mentioned anything about wanting to act.
“It can’t be true,” sputtered William. “It can’t possibly… But, Tom, if you knew something about Jenna, why didn’t you tell me?” William sounded hurt, like a kid asking why he hadn’t been allowed to join the sandlot baseball game. Occasionally that happened–William seeming to echo the long-ago child he’d once been, longing to be let in on his older brother’s secrets.
Thomas appeared pleased to have stirred up a reaction. He was always trying to stir up his younger brother. “I’m telling you about Jen now, Will. Not that it’s a very sporting thing to do–she’s made it clear she doesn’t want anyone to know what she’s up to.”
William looked offended. “You seem to know all about her. Are you implying that she’s confided in you?”
Thomas looked complacent. “Let us say she almost confided. I was speaking with her yesterday, and she started to tell me about her acting class. She tried to catch herself, but it was too late. After that, I made a few phone calls. I still have friends in the theater, you might remember, and I’ve learned that Jenna’s been making the audition rounds in New York.” Old Thomas leaned back with all the satisfaction of someone who’d just displayed his trump card.
“You investigated…and you didn’t tell me,” William muttered.
Adam thought about Jen. She’d always loved to attend the theater, but she’d never confessed to having any serious acting aspirations. It bothered the hell out of him that his own wife hadn’t confided in him….
“Adam, it’s more imperative than ever that you do something about Jenna,” William continued. “It’s absurd for her to be alone in New York chasing some wild fancy. What are the chances she’ll succeed? The odds are against even the most talented…” For just a moment, William sounded forlorn, and Adam could guess why. Almost fifty years ago, William, too, had chased a wild fancy, causing his own brief scandal. He’d announced to his parents that he wished to be a novelist, instead of joining the family shipping concern. Against all their admonishments, he’d moved into a small apartment in Boston and proceeded to write. He’d actually completed a novel and sent it off to one editor after another. Unfortunately even the Hillard name hadn’t helped him sell the book. He’d given up in discouragement and returned quietly to the family fold.
Adam rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know if his ex-wife had any acting ability or if this really was just some crazy dream of hers. No matter what, though, her great-uncle William was right. The odds were against Jen. She’d chosen a very difficult career, one notorious for its harsh disappointments.
Adam wasn’t prepared for the sudden protectiveness he felt at this moment. Protectiveness for his Jen–
Except that she wasn’t his Jen anymore. Why couldn’t he seem to remember that?
“Adam, you look perturbed,” Thomas commented, a gleam in his eye as if he hoped for a ruckus of some type. “I’ll bet you don’t like the thought of Jenna’s being an actress, either. Maybe you and Will should join forces–lock the poor girl up and prevent her from going back to New York. Between the two of you, I’m sure you could manage it.”
“I’m talking about a realistic plan to dissuade Jenna!” William snapped. “For once in your life, take something seriously, would you?”
“If I took life seriously, I’d be long dead by now. In fact, I’m amazed you’re still ticking away…”
Adam watched the great-uncles go at each other–Thomas trying to stir up a reaction, William obliging him by getting peeved. For decades these brothers had been doing the same thing, locked in familiar, time-worn patterns. Over the years Adam had developed affection for the two difficult old men, but today it was being tested.
He went to the door of the office, glancing back for a moment. “Forget it, William,” he said. “I’m not going to interfere in Jen’s life. Whatever she wants to do, she can do it. I already asked her to come to Newport more often for visits. I can’t ask anything else of her.”
William looked disappointed. Thomas looked disappointed, too, but no doubt for different reasons. He’d probably been hoping to cause more trouble.
“Forget it,” Adam said again, and then he left the offices of Hillard Enterprises, feeling more dissatisfied and out of sorts than ever.
* * *
JEN DISLIKED being here in the rambling garden behind St. Matthew’s Church on Seabell Lane. This place stirred too many conflicting emotions in her, no matter how lovely the surroundings–wisteria vines growing over the arched gate in competition with the yellow trumpet flowers, a forsythia hedge adorning the brick wall, drifts of David’s harp and lady’s mantle spreading a froth of greenery along the walk. This was the same church garden where generations of Hillards and Prescotts had taken tea with a succession of pastors and pastors’ wives. This was also the very same garden where Jen had married Adam twelve years ago. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to remember the promises she’d made that dazzling summer day.
Now it was another dazzling summer day, the sun shining down through a sky as clear and deep and translucent as blue glass. The beauty was lost on Jen. She felt tension radiating along her neck and through her shoulders. She just wanted her mother’s wedding rehearsal to be over and done with, but it hadn’t even started yet. Reverend Kiley was deep in consultation with the under-pastor in regard to some minute detail of protocol, the musicians couldn’t decide where to set up, and the groom had abruptly disappeared ten minutes ago. For that matter, the best man hadn’t yet arrived.
As if she’d compelled his appearance with her thoughts, Adam came walking through the gate. He looked good–he always looked good. Those hints of silver in his hair only made him seem all the more virile, and she knew from experience that his mustache had an unexpected, enticing softness….
Jen curled her fingers into her palms. Adam made her feel as if she were sitting in a darkened theater, watching a movie projected boldly on the screen–a movie in which the leading man overshadowed every other player by the sheer force of his presence.
When would it stop being like this? One glance at Adam, and her tension had turned to something different–a disquieting awareness of him. She watched as he came purposefully toward her. Adam always moved with purpose.
He stopped beside her, his silk tie casually loosened, his shirtsleeves rolled up over strong forearms.
“Hello, Jen,” he said, his gaze intent on her.
“Hello, Adam.”
For a moment it seemed that would be the extent of their conversation. Adam, however, didn’t excuse himself and go off to speak to someone else; that would have been too easy. Instead, he remained beside Jen, allowing the silence between them to grow heavy and potent.
Just when she thought she’d have to blurt out something–anything–to break it, Adam nodded toward the opposite side of the garden.
“Your mother seems upset,” he remarked.
Jen followed the direction of his gaze to where Beth Hillard was deep in consultation with the Reverend Kiley’s wife. Jen, too, had already noticed the subtle lines of strain on her mother’s face. Usually Beth appeared so on top of things, an optimistic manager of people and events. But at this moment Beth wasn’t managing anything, not even her own wedding rehearsal. She just stood there, listening to the pastor’s wife and looking almost…anxious. Jen couldn’t help being worried about her mother; Beth simply wasn’t the type to succumb to prewedding jitters.
“You’re very observant,” Jen said to Adam. “Most people wouldn’t realize anything’s wrong with Mother. They’d just think she was being a little restrained.”
“We both know that your mother being restrained is enough of an oddity,” Adam said dryly. Jen couldn’t help smiling at that, and for a moment she and Adam seemed to share something–a sort of insider’s knowledge, born of their long history together. But then Adam spoke again, and this tenuous sense of intimacy vanished.
“Maybe I’m not so observant,” he said. “One thing escaped me entirely–the fact that you want to be an actress, Jen.”
She glanced at him. “How on earth…? Uncle Thomas, I suppose.”
Jen should have expected something like this, particularly where Uncle Thomas was concerned. He was the most sympathetic of her relatives, and she had a habit of letting her guard down around him. Of course, sooner or later someone in her meddlesome family had been bound to find out. She’d just hoped that she’d have a bit more time to establish herself in New York before it happened. She hadn’t wanted anyone judging or dissecting or analyzing her plans until they were a little more substantial, a little more shaped.
Now Jen glanced over to where her two great-uncles sat together on a wooden bench among the delphiniums. They looked so…old. They were both officially retired, although they still spent long hours at the offices of Hillard Enterprises, keeping an eye on things. It had to be difficult for them, knowing that the family business must pass into younger hands. Worst of all, there were no Hillard heirs to take over. William had never married; Thomas had gone through two marriages and a few volatile love affairs without producing any progeny. Jen had never been able to envision a career in shipping, and she’d supplied no children who could eventually do the job.
The familiar guilt swirled over Jen, the stifling sense that the whole burden of the Hillard name rested on her, and that she had failed to carry it. She’d refused to have kids with Adam, she’d divorced him, she’d gone off to New York to pursue her own idea of happiness… By Hillard standards, she’d been amazingly selfish. Yet her own choice had seemed clear. She could either continue being selfish, or suffocate–
“Don’t look so disgusted with your great-uncles,” Adam murmured at her elbow. “If Thomas pokes his nose into your life, he’s just hoping for some excitement. Not to mention the fact that he genuinely cares about you, Jen. And William…William is very concerned that someone in New York might hurt your feelings. You know how sensitive he is about artistic rejection.”
Oh, yes, poor Uncle William and the novel no one would publish. It was a famous family story, although William himself refused to talk about it anymore. Jen suspected, however, that William still guarded that manuscript somewhere, the pages moldering away in a desk drawer or ancient filing cabinet, a constant symbol of his failure. William hated rejection of any kind, and somehow he’d seemed the most hurt of anyone when Jen had left for New York.
Damn. Jen had been afraid it would be like this coming back to Newport, all the old guilt and the old tenderness taking her over. Because no matter what, she truly did love her great-uncles and her mother. She cared about them and worried about them and wanted desperately for all three to be happy and well. She just couldn’t live with them.
“You don’t need to appeal to my better sentiments,” she told Adam in a low voice. “I’m not completely unfeeling, you know. It’s just that– Don’t you realize, Adam? For the first time in my life, for the very first time, I’m doing something on my own, without help from my family, from you, from anyone.” She wondered at this sudden impulse to explain things to him. How would he possibly understand? Adam stood here now, stroking his mustache in a judicious manner as he observed her. It was a disconcerting gesture on his part–first of all, because it gave her the unaccountable desire to reach out her fingers and stroke his luxuriant mustache herself. That was distracting enough. But Adam really did seem to be contemplating her in judgmental fashion, like a professor wondering how to bring a recalcitrant student into line. It put Jen immediately on the defensive, giving her even more knots of tension in her shoulders.
“I can’t figure it out,” Adam said after a moment. “All those years of ours together and I never once suspected that you wanted to be an actress. How could something like that slip by me? Just tell me that.”
Jen folded her arms. “It annoys you, doesn’t it? Finding out that something about me was outside your control. But it’s not that simple, Adam. It’s not like I went around all the time wishing I could be an actress and hiding the wish from you. For such a long while I pushed the whole idea away. I mean, it seemed so foolish, so impossible. I’d never acted in my life. I had no reason to believe it was something I could do…” Her voice trailed off. Once again, she was explaining too much to Adam. It made her feel more foolish than ever, but somehow she had to finish.
“It wasn’t until…until our marriage got into serious trouble that I started thinking about what I really wanted to do with my life. And that was when I knew I had to give it a shot. I had to see if I could be an actress. I had to know I’d tried at least. So that’s what I’m doing now. I’m trying.” She didn’t mention the immense insecurities about the endeavor that assaulted her every day–every minute, really, if she was honest. But she was going ahead. She could be proud of that much.
Adam continued to study her. “You’ve been away from me a year,” he murmured. “An entire year, all that time attending acting classes and going to auditions. But your life is still a mystery to me. I don’t know what you’re doing to support yourself. I don’t even know if there’s a new man in your life.”
Jen flushed. She could feel the heat rising through her body, reaching her face, staining her cheeks. More confusion churned inside her. She simply could not admit the truth about that to Adam. In the year she’d been in New York, she hadn’t been with any other man. Oh, she’d gone on a few dates, that sort of thing, but nothing serious. And that was part of the problem. No doubt she needed to be with another man, someone who could erase the memory of Adam’s kisses, the memory of Adam’s caresses….
Jen felt her flush deepen, and she had to glance away from Adam. She was thirty-two years old, and yet she had known only one lover in her life, one love. No wonder Adam still had such power over her senses. But she hadn’t met anyone in New York who attracted her the way Adam did. It was a hopeless circle. Jen almost laughed thinking about it, even though it wasn’t a particularly humorous situation.
“So I’m being nosy,” Adam admitted, when she didn’t answer him. “So I’ll stop. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
This was a surprise–Adam’s backing off before he obtained what he wanted. Jen glanced at him suspiciously, but it seemed at last the rehearsal was starting. The groom had reappeared, the violinists and cellist had finally set up, Jen’s mother looked comparatively more composed, and Reverend Kiley had opened his prayer book with a flourish.
As best man and maid of honor, Adam and Jen were obliged to walk down the aisle together, the aisle in this case being the flagstone walk that traversed the length of the garden. Twelve years ago, Jen had walked down this exact same path in her beaded silk wedding gown, a great-uncle ready on either side to give her away.
“Steady,” Adam said, as if reading her thoughts. He placed his hand under her elbow. “Remember, you’re not the one getting married in two days. You don’t have any reason to be nervous this time around.”
“I’m not nervous,” she muttered back. “Not in the least.” Jen stared straight ahead and saw the pastor smiling nostalgically at her and Adam. Reverend Kiley, after all, had been the one to perform their wedding ceremony all those years ago. How many other memories would assault Jen before this rehearsal was over?
Just then she heard a beeping noise, as if her own agitated pulse had suddenly acquired sound. The noise, however, was coming from Adam. He had one of those obnoxious little beepers, it seemed, heralding some important phone call.
Adam frowned, but he excused himself to use the telephone inside the church. The rehearsal came to an awkward halt, and Jen reflected wryly that she’d just been abandoned while walking down the aisle.
Adam returned a few moments later. He glanced at Jen and then at the rest of the wedding party. “I’m very sorry, but there’s something of an emergency at the newspaper. I’ll have to drive into Boston. Please go on without me. I’ll have Jen fill me in on what I miss.”
All Jen could do was stare at him. She saw the expression on his face, the focused intensity that always came to him whenever he spoke about his newspaper. So things hadn’t changed over this past year–not at all, it seemed. Adam couldn’t take even a day or two off without the Boston Standard intruding.
He gazed at Jen for another minute or so, his expression growing enigmatic. But then he turned, striding away, going out through the garden gate–and vanishing from her sight.
CHAPTER FIVE
A DAM COULD TELL that something was wrong with Russ Billington. He could tell that, not by looking at Russ, but rather by examining the story in front of him. For years, Russ had been one of Adam’s best reporters, dependable for his accuracy but also for his ability to bring unusual insight to just about any story. However, this one was neither accurate nor insightful. Adam glanced up.
“Okay, Russ,” he said quietly. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”
Russ Billington sat on the other side of Adam’s desk, looking harried. Russ had been with the Boston Standard ever since graduating from college. He’d started out as a reporter, and he’d remained a reporter. He’d never wanted to move up, never wanted even to be an associate editor when the opportunity arose. As far as Adam could tell, Russ had liked his job, was good at it and hadn’t asked for much more from life. He’d seemed one of those rare people content with what he was doing. But now, well, the quality of Russ’s work had been steadily slipping for the past few months, and this was the worst so far.
Russ leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees as if he suddenly felt tired. “I know it’s bad,” he said. “It shouldn’t have happened, I realize that–”
“It didn’t just happen. You wrote the thing. Lord, if Sandra hadn’t caught this, you could’ve caused us one hell of a mess. Think about it.”
“That’s all I’ve been doing–thinking about it,” Russ said with an edge of anger to his voice. Maybe he was mad at Adam, maybe at himself. Adam pulled the copy in front of him again. Russ had put together what should have been an in-depth story regarding recent problems with parole violators.
“Hell, Russ. This just isn’t like you. Usually you’re so thorough. But this reads like you just tossed it off. Obviously you didn’t try to interview one person who actually had any facts in the case.”
Russ stood up abruptly. To all appearances, he seemed the same as usual–a bit flabby around the middle because he kept making plans to get to the gym but somehow never managed it, his thinning hair cut just a little too short in back because he never made the effort to find a good barber. Yes, Russ looked just the same–but something had to be way out of kilter for him to write like this.
“Trouble with your personal life?” Adam hazarded. Not that Russ had much of a personal life. He was a long-term bachelor.
“Everything’s fine,” Russ muttered. “Just fine.”
“Health? Finances? Just spit it out, whatever it is,” Adam said.
“It’s nothing. Let it go. This won’t happen again, I’m telling you–”
“It’s already happened too many times. That’s why Sandra’s been checking your work so carefully. Russ, take some time off–two weeks to straighten things out. Because if you can’t straighten things out, I’ll have to let you go–permanently.” Adam spoke gruffly. He’d always been able to fire an employee when necessary, but Russ Billington was someone special. He didn’t want to fire the guy, but Russ needed to help him out with this.
Russ just stood there, face gone stony. “I don’t want any time off. All you have to do is give me one more chance. That’s all I’m asking.”
“You don’t have a choice in the matter, Russ. Two weeks–that’s what I’m giving you. Make the best of it.”
Russ turned and strode out of Adam’s office, banging the door behind him. Adam leaned back in his chair, feeling more than discontented. It seemed to him that Russ might very well represent the problems with the Boston Standard right now. Russ was an excellent reporter who for some reason or other seemed to be burning out. And the Standard was an excellent paper also in danger of burning out.
Adam glanced around his office. It was large, messy and comfortable. The shelves along the walls were wide and deep, able to hold any number of books, magazines and newspapers. Adam’s desk was the bulky, green-metal type, big and solid, with enough space for all the pieces of computer equipment that sprouted from it like so many electronic mushrooms. The desk even had a few corners free for piles of research reports, as well as scatterings of layout designs, print tests and ad broadsheets. It was a capacious office, the sort of place where you could settle down to work and not be overwhelmed by your clutter. Adam liked it, liked spending hours surrounded by his own friendly chaos. At least, he’d liked spending hours in here before that odd restlessness had taken him over of late.
Adam stood and moved toward the blinds at the glassed-in portion of his office. They were the old-fashioned wooden kind that made a rattling noise and were always getting snarled in their own cords. Adam supposed he should replace them, but they’d been installed way back when his grandfather was editor in chief of the Standard.
Adam had lowered them earlier so he’d have some privacy for his talk with Russ. Now he raised them and stared out at the newsroom. It was late, and the day’s commotion had died down. Some of the reporters still worked at their desks, but tomorrow’s early-morning edition was already humming on the presses downstairs and most of Adam’s staff had gone home to eat a meal with their families. It occurred to Adam that he’d been eating dinner alone more often than not the past few weeks. It was usually a mediocre dinner, too. Either he’d grab some potato chips and a stale sandwich at the vending machines down the hall, or he’d go across the street to the café that overgrilled its burgers. His appetite for good food seemed dampened.
