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“I don’t know what game you’re playing,” Dana said, “but I don’t appreciate it.”
“Sorry to interrupt your life, honey, but it isn’t a game.” Zeke’s gaze shifted to a point over her shoulder.
Dana was furious. “You can’t just come in here and make an announcement like that and then ignore me when I ask for an explanation!”
“Oh, you want an explanation,” he said with a bright-eyed air of discovery. “And here I thought you’d already decided I’d made it up just to interfere in your new romance.”
“As if you’d want to,” Dana snapped.
He looked appraisingly at her. “Don’t you mean, ‘As if you could’? Come between you and the new boyfriend, I mean.”
“That, too.” It came out sounding a little lame, Dana thought, but her feelings—or lack of them—for Barclay were certainly none of Zeke’s business.
“Though I’d be doing you a favor if I did break it up. Honestly, Dana, can’t you do any better than Barclay Howell?”
“Coming from you, Zeke, that’s the funniest joke of the year.”
“Everybody thinks I’m so humorous, maybe I should take up comedy.”
“You’d fit right into the profession,” Dana said coolly.
Zeke reached past her to take the glass Barclay was holding. “Thanks, Bark.”
Dana bit her tongue. The night was young, and sooner or later she’d have a chance to get Zeke off in a corner and shake an explanation out of him. Whether he could adequately justify what he’d done was probably another question altogether, but at least she could find out what he’d been thinking when he made that bizarre announcement.
In the meantime, she decided, the best way to head off more questions was to pretend nothing important had happened. She smiled at Barclay. “You must ask Zeke to tell you about his first couple of years here. The university had quite a reputation as a party school back then, and he helped add a chapter to the story. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I see that Professor Wells has just arrived. I’m helping her to organize an event that’s coming up later this week, and I must ask her about a few details.” She tried not to give a sigh of relief as she made her escape.
Professor Wells was at the bar, taking a tentative sip of her Scotch and water. “I hate these parties,” she grumbled to Dana. “But at least I’ll say for Barclay Howell that he insists on good Scotch. I think the stuff the last president served was really antifreeze. How are the arrangements for the trivia tournament shaping up?”
Dana bit back a smile. “I’m sure the sponsors of the Academic Honors Bowl wouldn’t like hearing you call it a trivia tournament.”
“Then they should make it a real contest. Put in some questions that require intellect and reasoning instead of a command of random information.”
“Finding enough dormitory space to house a couple of hundred high school students overnight wasn’t easy,” Dana admitted. “And I’m having a little trouble with the awards ceremony at the end of the day. The lecture hall in the conference center isn’t large enough to hold all the students who are taking part, but I can’t put chairs in the aisles or the fire inspector will have a fit.”
Professor Wells grunted. “If enough of them get bored and leave early, there’ll be no shortage of seats.”
“That’s true, but it’s hardly the solution we want.”
“I know, Dana. We really need that new building. Of course, don’t hold your breath. If the trustees have their way, there’ll be a new stadium first, and then a basketball arena, and then—”
Dana was having trouble concentrating. She realized suddenly that even with her back turned she knew exactly where in the room Zeke was at any given moment. The hairs at the nape of Dana’s neck seemed to be acting as a sort of compass, with Zeke being true north. It didn’t help that Barclay seemed to be showing him off, making the rounds of the room in order to introduce him to everyone.
She finally gave up on making sense of the conversation and told Professor Wells she’d phone her the next day to get the list of people who had volunteered to serve as question-readers and judges for the academic bowl. Instantly her internal radar seemed to relax a bit, but as soon as she turned her attention back to the room, she saw why.
Zeke was leaving. He was already in the entrance hall, with Barclay beside him, obviously almost pleading with him to stay a little longer. She watched as Zeke shook his head and went out.
He had been there less than half an hour, but that short space of time had thrown Dana into the worst emotional turmoil she’d felt since their divorce. And now he was escaping without giving her any justification at all for his behavior.
Which was pretty much par for the course where Zeke was concerned.
Barclay closed the door behind him and came straight across the drawing room to Dana. He looked, she thought warily, as if he’d like to kick the nearest alumnus. She braced herself. How was she going to explain that incredible announcement of Zeke’s when she had no idea herself what he’d been talking about?
“You could have told me you knew him.” It sounded like an accusation.
“There was no reason to. It was back in the dark ages.”
“The timing doesn’t matter.”
“Look,” she said, keeping her voice low. “You must realize you took me by surprise earlier this evening. If we’d been dating, of course I would have told you I’d been married before. But it’s not something I announce when I’m first introduced to someone, so—”
Barclay waved a hand, dismissing her concern. “I wasn’t talking about that.”
Dana almost choked. “Then what are you talking about?”
“You could at least have filled me in about his history,” he said impatiently. “Warned me about that kooky sense of humor…you mean you really were married to him?”
Dana nodded. “For about three months.”
“Oh. Well, that’s nothing.”
Nothing, Dana thought. But did he mean that her short-lived marriage was unimportant because it had no implications for her current decisions, or because finding out about it had changed his mind about the offer he’d made?
Not that it altered her feelings about Barclay in the least, but it would be convenient to know whether she was still supposed to be considering his proposal. Why waste time trying to find a way to let him down gently, if he had decided she wasn’t suitable marriage material after all?
Barclay sounded aggrieved. “You could at least have suggested the best way to approach him.”
As if he were a rattlesnake, Dana thought. “You want my advice on how to get a donation out of Zeke Ferris? Sorry, but I have no idea how to persuade the man to part with his money, because when I knew him he didn’t have any. I’m the one who paid for the divorce.”
The divorce I didn’t get after all…She told herself firmly not to leap to conclusions. Just because Zeke had said something didn’t make it true. Maybe Barclay was right, and Zeke had intended it as a sort of practical joke. Then, as soon as he’d realized that she didn’t find it amusing, he’d sloped off rather than take responsibility for a gag gone bad…
But that behavior wasn’t like the Zeke she’d known, either. Dana’s head was starting to pound.
She had never in her life been so glad to see the end of a party. She pitched in to help the caterers clean up, partly so they could all go home sooner, partly because she didn’t want to face another tête-á-tête with Barclay just now—but mostly because as long as she was surrounded by a group of outsiders, Connie couldn’t ask her any questions. And since at the moment she had absolutely no answers…
She kept on working after Connie gave up and left. Finally, when the last members of the catering crew were ready to go, Dana took her raincoat from a hook near the kitchen door and went out with them. The last truck roared away and she was alone.
The dark and gloomy afternoon had given way to a darker and gloomier evening. It wasn’t quite raining, but the air was so heavy with mist that the usual evening sounds were softened and flattened. Her footsteps on the brick driveway didn’t make the usual sharp click, and the creak of the gate as she opened and closed it was unusually muted. The sound of a car engine starting might have come from any direction at all.
She turned toward downtown, to walk the dozen blocks to her little house. Her hands were deep in the pockets of her raincoat and her head was bent against the misty air. She was vaguely aware of a car coming up behind her, but that was nothing new. It would have been more unusual for the streets to be empty at this hour in this neighborhood. Though she felt dead tired, in fact it wasn’t late.
It took her a while to realize that the car was moving too slowly. It should have passed her by now. Was it following her?
She shot a nervous glance over her shoulder and speeded her steps. A Jaguar. If a stalker was after her, she thought, at least he had good taste.
The car crept along beside her for another few yards, then pulled in toward the curb. The passenger-side window opened and a man leaned across the seat to look out at her.
“Want a lift?” Zeke asked.
“I was enjoying my solitude,” Dana pointed out. She kept walking.
The car crept along beside her. “I thought you wanted an explanation.”
She stopped. “Does that mean you’re actually planning to give me one?”
“Get in.” He pushed the door open.
She perched sideways on the seat with the door open and one foot still planted on the street.
“You never used to be the nervous sort,” Zeke said, “but at the moment you look like you’re ready to run. And yet you’re walking home at this hour. The two things don’t fit together somehow.”
“Give it a little thought and I’m sure you can figure out why I’m a bit jittery at the idea of sitting here.” Her voice was dry. “What gives, Zeke?”
“I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable. If you don’t want to sit here, let’s go somewhere for dinner.”
“Let’s have that explanation first.”
“I’m too hungry to keep my mind on details.”
“It’s your own fault if you’re hungry. There was food at the party.”
“That’s what you call food? Those dainty little nibbles didn’t even take the edge off. I’ve been sitting here fantasizing about a steak. I had just about convinced myself I was wasting my time waiting for you to come out. Another five minutes and I’d have been gone.”
“My timing always was rotten,” Dana murmured. “So if you were going to wait five more minutes for me anyway, you might as well put it to good use. Give me the condensed version and then you can go eat. And by the way, if that remark about wasting your time waiting for me was a polite way of asking whether I’ve moved in with Barclay, the answer is no.”
“Oh, I’m sure you still go home every night…eventually. Barclay wouldn’t want any gossip about his future wife.”
Dana hit her temple with the heel of her hand. “What on earth is wrong with me? Did I just imply that you were trying to be polite? My mistake. I take it all back.” She slid out of the car, slammed the door, and leaned in the still-open window. “If you waited around just so you could insult me, you wasted your time, Zeke. Good night.” She took two steps.
The car crept forward. “You keep saying you want me to tell you what happened.”
“Well—yes, now that you mention it, it would be nice to know what inspired you to say such a stupid thing. No, wait—let me guess. You just had to make sure that Barclay knew I’d been married—is that it?”
Zeke’s voice was soft. “So I was right on target. You hadn’t told him.”
Dana could have kicked herself for admitting as much. “No, I hadn’t. But—” She stopped. She was not about to confide in Zeke that she hadn’t even known Barclay well enough to tell him about her past; Zeke would laugh himself into tears.
“Barclay’s first lady will have to be like Caesar’s wife, you know,” he said with a sanctimonious air that made Dana want to punch him. “He couldn’t possibly marry any woman who had a breath of suspicion hanging over her, and I…well, I just couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t done my best to prevent a scandal.”
“You’re the one who caused the scandal,” Dana pointed out. “Besides, there’s nothing for anyone to be scandalized about. It happens all the time. We got married, we decided it didn’t work, we got divorced—”
Zeke shook his head. “Not quite.”
“Look, enough of the joke already.”
“I wish it was a joke, Dana.”
There was a deep and obviously heartfelt note in his voice that made Dana’s stomach feel like lead. She said uncertainly, “You weren’t making it up?”
Zeke shook his head. “Come on,” he said and pushed the car door open. “We’ve got some talking to do.”
Dana chose the restaurant, but as soon as they walked in Zeke knew why she’d made that particular selection—it was the darkest little bar he’d ever been in. “I can’t quite see Barclay bringing you here,” he murmured as she led the way to a table. “As a matter of fact, I can’t see much of anything at all. But I suppose that’s the biggest attraction of the place—he’s not likely to walk in and spot us together.”
To his disappointment Dana didn’t rise to the bait. “No, I chose it because the music is loud enough to keep anyone from overhearing us, but not so loud that we’ll have to shout. And you did say you wanted a steak—they’re supposed to have the best ones in town.”
“Supposed to? You don’t know? Don’t tell me you’ve gone vegetarian.” She looked it, he thought. She was thinner than he remembered. Did that mean that Barclay liked his women as angular as clothing racks?
“I got so used to rice and beans when we were married that it became a habit.”
“Sarcasm isn’t your strong point, Dana.”
“Then I’ll have to work harder at it.” She took a menu from behind the salt and pepper shakers and handed it to him. It was so battered that the lamination was coming loose from the paper. Zeke maneuvered the menu into the glow of the single narrow spotlight above the table and tried to read around the scratches and reflections.
Dana seemed to have no trouble figuring out what the menu said. “It’s my lucky day,” she said. “Pinto bean and wild rice soup. Just what I wanted.”
“Don’t starve yourself for my sake.”
“Still being bossy, I see.” She put her menu down with a slap.
“No, just practical. I saw you knocking back champagne at Barclay’s party, and if we’re going to have a serious discussion—”
“You’d like me to be sober for it? Gee, and here I thought you were asking me out to dinner for old times’ sake. You can rest easy, Zeke. I had one glass of champagne. I carried it around with me most of the evening, and I dumped the last of it down the drain right before I left Baron’s Hill.”
“Fine.” One thing was already obvious, Zeke thought. She was still just as stubborn as she’d ever been—if not more so.
“But if you insist, I’ll order something besides rice and bean soup.” She looked up at the server. “I’ll have your most expensive steak.” She pointed at Zeke. “And he’ll have the bill.”
The server didn’t even blink. “For you, sir?”
“Make it two.” The server went away, and Zeke said, “The last thing I would have expected, years ago when we were just trying to survive the semester, was that you’d end up being the university’s first lady.”
Dana shrugged and fiddled with her menu, putting it neatly back in place and propping it up with the ketchup bottle. “And who would have thought you’d end up as Mr. Industrialist?”
“Not for much longer.”
She nodded. “Barclay said something about you selling your business. He’s hoping that when you hold all those millions in your hands, you’ll remember the university with fondness.”
“Tell me something I didn’t know,” Zeke said dryly.
“What are you going to do then? Go lie on a beach in Hawaii?”
Zeke shook his head. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t dream of restricting myself to one beach when there must be hundreds of them out there around the world, just waiting for me.”
Her laugh brought a sparkle of gold to her big brown eyes, he noted. At least that much hadn’t changed.
The server brought salads and a basket of bread.
Dana drizzled blue cheese dressing over her lettuce. “All right,” she said. “Enough polite conversation. What makes you think—”
