A Kiss Too Late

Jen clenched her hands into fists. “I’m not just getting something out of my system, as you put it. I’m building a life for myself.”

“One you’re quite mysterious about, if I do say so. What do you do, Jenna? I’m aware you haven’t touched any of the funds in your accounts. How on earth do you support yourself?”

Jen wouldn’t answer that question. No one in her family would understand her job at the deli, or how she lived. And her acting aspirations were too private, too special, to share right now.

“Mother, I’m doing just fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Well, I do worry.” Beth swung her feet down from the sofa and gazed at her daughter in consternation. “If only you’d had children with Adam. That would’ve anchored you.”

“Anchored,” Jen echoed. “Let’s not get into this again, Mother.”

Beth paused, apparently considering different tactics. “I’d always hoped that you and Adam would discover the joys of parenthood together. His poor dear parents dreamed of that, too, you know….”

It was Beth’s guilt treatment, something she used with particular effectiveness. Jen refused to be swayed by it today, but she reflected on her mother’s words. It was true that the Hillards and the Prescotts, long close in friendship, had always harbored the hope that eventually Jen and Adam would marry and produce children of their own. The marriage had taken place, indeed, on the eve of Jen’s twenty-first birthday. She’d been wildly in love, and she’d imagined Adam felt the same way. She’d wanted to believe their union actually had nothing to do with family expectations. More than anything, she’d wanted to believe they were destined to be together for very personal and private reasons. Jen had been so damn naive back then.

Beth spoke again, still working on the guilt angle. “I don’t understand you, Jenna, no matter how hard I try. If you can’t make up with Adam, why don’t you find yourself another husband? Someone suitable, of course, someone–”

“Someone appropriate,” Jen finished. “Yes, I know. Someone with the proper family background who can live up to the Hillard standards.”

“The right candidates are available. Look at me. I managed to find another man who can live up to the standards of our family. In fact, I’m sure your father would be very pleased that I’ve chosen Phillip.”

Undeniably, Phillip Rhodes possessed flawless credentials. Master of his own considerable fortune in real estate, there was no danger that he wished to marry Beth Hillard for her money. Phillip and Jen’s father had even been good friends. Jen could well imagine her father nodding his head in approval, endorsing the wise step his widow was about to take–the step of forming another proper alliance.

Jen pushed both hands through her hair. “Look, Mother, I really am happy for you and Phillip, so let’s forget about me for the moment. This is your time. Let’s talk about plans for the wedding. I’m ready to pitch in and get to work.”

Beth smiled complacently. “I’m so glad to know that, dear. Because you’re going to be a big part of the ceremony. You and Adam both, that is. You see, Adam is going to be the best man, and you’re going to be the maid of honor!”

* * *

JEN WALKED QUICKLY through the grove of linden trees that marked the end of Hillard property. Prescott property began on the other side of the trees. For years, the Hillards and the Prescotts had been neighbors, the two families united in physical proximity, as well as in purpose and outlook. But Jen had always considered this grove between the two estates as a sort of no-man’s land, belonging to neither of the families. It had often been her refuge, a place where she could simply be by herself, away from the combined demands of the Hillards and the Prescotts. It was only natural to come here now. She began to pace.

“Hello, Jenny,” said Adam from the other side of the trees. Jen stopped abruptly. Just the sound of his voice seemed to transform her surroundings. Suddenly this grove seemed too outlying, too secluded.

Jen felt an odd mixture of defensiveness and anticipation. She turned and peered through the branches. “Adam, what are you doing out here?”

He walked toward her. He’d taken off his jacket, but his tie was still loosely knotted. “I have to admit I got curious. How’d it go with your mother?”

Jen frowned at him. “I suppose you already know she plans for me to be maid of honor–with you as best man, naturally.”

“The best man has a lot of responsibilities,” he remarked. “Taking charge of the ushers, being the toastmaster, supervising the rest of the wedding party.”

Jen glanced at him sharply. “I never should’ve let my mother finagle me into this.”

“You could always tell her you don’t want to do it.”

“She is my mother.”

“So we’re both in. I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other the next few days.”

Jen leaned against a tree trunk. “At least we can try not to get in each other’s way.”

“We can try,” he agreed.

“What I mean to say is, I think it would be easier if you didn’t come looking for me like this. Why did you come, Adam?”

For once he appeared at a loss. He didn’t say anything for a moment. When at last he did speak, he surprised Jen.

“This place is where I first kissed you,” he murmured. “Do you remember?”

“Of course I do,” she said reluctantly. “But I never thought you remembered.”

“You were, what, seventeen? I considered you much too young for me, but you seemed determined to show me otherwise.”

Poignant memories drifted over her, but she resisted them as best she could. “What’s the point, Adam? It was all so long ago.”

Sunlight glimmered down through the leaves, and a breeze from the ocean stirred the branches. Adam crossed to Jen, a look of purpose in his eyes. She pressed back against the tree trunk, feeling the scratch of bark through the thin material of her blouse. Adam was standing very close to her now. He raised his hand and gently, experimentally, ran his thumb over the tender surface of her lips. Jen caught her breath at his touch. She felt herself trembling, and she couldn’t move away from him.

“Do you remember when I first made love to you?” he asked, his voice husky.

Her eyelids drifted downward as he continued his light, seductive caress. But he was seducing her most of all with words and with those memories. Oh, she’d been crazy for him. Nineteen years old, and it had seemed to her she’d been saving herself all her life for Adam. She’d been so impatient to have him, and he’d taught her well the secrets of her own body. Too well….

“When I made love to you in New York, it was like the first time, wasn’t it, Jen?”

It had been better than the first time, that was the worst of it. In New York, she’d brought to Adam all the experience he himself had given her. Their passion had been all the more intense for its familiarity. But she needed more from a man than physical passion. Far more.

She slipped away from him, furious at the tears pricking her eyelids. “Don’t do this, Adam,” she said, her voice shaking. She glanced away from him. They stood together among the trees, and Jen realized she would never find any neutral territory here. Her “no-man’s land” was an illusion. In Newport she would always be haunted by all the poignant memories of her time with Adam–the man she had once loved so desperately.

“Leave it alone, Adam,” she said tautly, wishing she could return to New York this very instant.

Instead, all she could do was retreat to the house where she’d never truly felt at home.

* * *

THERE WERE MANSIONS in Newport far grander even than the house where Jen had grown up. Tonight, for instance, she found herself wandering reluctantly about the spectacular edifice known as Hampton Court. Light from the chandeliers glittered on the marble fireplaces and gilded mirrors of the ballroom, and the ceiling frescoes and the carved wall panels only added to the atmosphere of exuberant Victorian excess. A hundred years ago, a wealthy society matron named Alda Hampton had thrown lavish parties here in her efforts to outdo other wealthy society matrons. This evening’s gathering was an echo of those splendid affairs. The house now belonged to friends of Jen’s mother, and they’d spared no expense in celebrating her impending marriage. At one end of the room, a chamber orchestra played on a dais. At the other end, tables had been laden with every variety of seafood: lobster, crab cakes, shrimp bisque, stuffed clams.

Jen continued to wander on the outskirts of the party, sipping a glass of champagne. She wasn’t in the mood to socialize. She preferred smaller, more intimate gatherings, not large groups like this. But she knew that her uneasy mood couldn’t entirely be blamed on the noise and chatter that surrounded her. The way Adam kept getting under her skin was what really vexed her.

At this very moment Adam was nearby, sharing a conversation with a group of people. As if sensing her gaze, he turned and glanced at her. It seemed to her that even from this distance, she could see a hint of mockery in his dark eyes. She couldn’t look away. One glance, and he had captured her. Her fingers tightened around the glass of champagne. But the fizz of warmth through her body had nothing to do with alcohol.

“Having a good time, dear?” Beth Hillard appeared at Jen’s elbow, her gaze assessing.

Jen finally dragged her eyes away from Adam’s. “You don’t need to worry about me, Mother. This is your celebration. Have fun.”

“Yes, it’s so pleasant to have an unexpected party like this.” Beth was her usual immaculate self, hair perfectly waved, makeup expertly applied. Now she glanced about the crowded room with an air of contentment. “Ah, there’s Adam,” she said in a too-innocent voice. “He looks particularly dashing tonight.”

Unfortunately Jen found that she agreed. Adam’s masculine, broad-shouldered frame looked especially attractive in the slate gray jacket he wore. And no matter how restrained his outward demeanor, he conveyed a sense of energy coiled underneath. His vitality seemed to draw Jen even from here. She turned so that she couldn’t see him anymore.

“Mother, I wish you and I could talk about something besides Adam.”

Beth gave her daughter a disapproving glare. “You’re not giving him a chance. I’m quite certain he wishes a reconciliation with you–whether or not he realizes it.”

Trust Beth to disregard reality completely. Still, Jen couldn’t help glancing at Adam again. By now a few couples were dancing, and Adam was among them. He was executing a waltz with a striking blonde Jenna didn’t know. She tried to ignore her immediate, instinctive discomfort at the sight. Let Adam Prescott dance with all the blondes he liked!

Jen’s mother became distracted by the approach of several friends, and Jen was able to slip out onto the terrace. Leaning against the balustrade, she gazed at the ocean. The evening had deepened into night, and the line between water and sky was barely perceptible. The noise of the party was subdued out here, and Jen tried to lose herself in the sweet, humid fragrance of the air.

“You have a habit of running away, Jenny.”

She stiffened at the sound of Adam’s voice and went on staring at the ocean. The stone balustrade was cool against her hand, and she tried to focus on that sensation rather than Adam’s nearness. “I’m not running away. I just don’t like this type of party. So many people…”

“So many of the wrong people, you mean,” he said, coming to lean next to her.

In some ways, Adam knew her very well. Too well. “I’ve never really belonged in this world,” she said, gesturing to include the ornate mansion and the expansive grounds that swept down to the bluff. “Everything’s on such a grandiose scale. I prefer things small and manageable. I’d rather look at one single wild rose than acres of garden flowers. But you belong in this world, Adam. You’re very comfortable in it.”

“And that gives you one more reason to despise me,” he said. The light spilling from the ballroom revealed the hard lines of his face.

“I don’t despise you,” she answered. “Believe it or not, I’ve gone on with my life. I haven’t spent every minute thinking about you.” That wasn’t entirely the truth. Jen had spent a lot of time over the past year thinking about Adam.

He studied her intently. “Tell me about this life of yours in New York City.”

She stiffened again. She’d never told Adam about her secret dreams, knowing instinctively he would dismiss them as absurd and farfetched. She knew how farfetched they were. She didn’t need a dose of Adam’s cynical realism.

“I’m happy,” she said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“From what I can tell, you’ve carved out a lonely place for yourself. Is that how you want it? No family around, no kids…”

She set her glass down on the balustrade, the champagne no longer enticing her. “I can see where this is headed. But I had good reasons for not wanting children while we were married. Dammit, Adam, you were never around. You didn’t have any time for me, let alone a baby.”

“We could have worked it out. I would have made adjustments–”

“No. You wouldn’t have. You refused to change for me. Would a child really have made the difference?” She took a deep breath, struggling to calm herself. It dismayed her that Adam could still provoke her emotions so easily.

“Be straight, Jen,” he muttered. “It wasn’t just about my working too much. You always behaved as if you’d be jealous of any child we’d have–as if you’d resent my giving attention to someone else.”

Turmoil churned inside Jen as she gazed at him. “Maybe if you’d really been in love with me, maybe then I wouldn’t have been afraid children would come between us.”

“Your idea of love is completely unrealistic.” Adam sounded impatient. “You expected us to be enthralled with each other twenty-four hours a day. But marriage should be a partnership, not a ticket on an emotional merry-go-round.”

“Well put,” she said caustically. “Except that I’m no longer asking you to be enthralled. You’re off the merry-go-round. You’re free.”

“It’s not as simple as that.” Adam stepped closer and drew her into his arms. Startled, she placed her hands against his chest and frowned at him in the glimmering light from the ballroom.

“Don’t do this…”

“We’ve proved that at least one thing is right between us. Very right, Jenny.”

His touch was dangerous, sparking memories of all their secret, impassioned hours together throughout the years. “It’s not enough,” she said, her voice unsteady.

Adam didn’t answer. He and Jen stood clasped together in the shadows. As the music drifted out from the ballroom, he moved her into a dance. They swayed together, and she found her cheek nestled against his chest, certainly a deterrent to rational thought. They had always danced well together, moving so naturally in each other’s arms, and tonight was no different. She trailed her hands up over his shoulders, raising her face toward his as if she possessed no will of her own.

She trembled in his arms, alive to his touch, and knew she had to do anything she could to break the spell between them. “Adam…there’s something you should realize,” she said. “My mother wants to get us back together. Let’s not make her think she’s succeeding.”

He drew Jen even closer. “Your mother has nothing to do with this,” he said.

“She’s up to something, I tell you.”

Adam wouldn’t listen, and against her own will, Jen relaxed deeper into his arms. The pounding of the ocean against the shore seemed to grow louder, until she could almost feel the rhythmic throbbing of the waves–or was that simply Adam’s heartbeat next to hers? It was difficult to tell where one sound began and the other left off. And then she realized that the music had ceased entirely. In fact, an expectant sort of silence seemed to weight the air. From the direction of the ballroom, someone gave a discreet cough.

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.