A ruling passion : a novel, page 41
"Patch? We don't need patching; we're doing fine. I've been busy, I haven't paid much attention to you, I know that; but that doesn't mean anything; Christ, Valerie, do you have to build up a case every time I've got a lot on my mind? If every couple who doesn't spend a lot of time together—"
"Oh, stop it," she said impatiendy. He shrugged, still leaning his head on his hand, and in a moment Valerie bent down and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry; I'm as nervous as you these days. If you'd tell me what's bothering you, I might be able to help, or at least we could share it. Unless it's this woman you've got; I don't imagine I'd be much help there."
'Woman? What woman? What are you talking about?"
'Tour regular trips to Manhattan. Carl, do you think everyone in the world is blind but you?" She picked up her shearling coat and went to the door. "I'll be in town until about six. If you're willing to talk after dinner, we might make a start at being married."
"We are married, for Christ's sake. I can't talk to you if you're ob-
sessed with these crazy ideas. There isn't any other woman!"
"Good," said Valerie lightly. "Then thafs one less thing we have to discuss, isn't it? Fll see you tonight."
He heard her close the door, but he did not move; he was exhausted, even though it was only the morning. He wondered how he had slipped up and made her suspicious. He wondered why she felt they weren't married. He was home most nights, they went to parties together, they took quick flights to New York and Washington, they entertained, they rode together on their farm. What more did she need to feel married?
He shook his head, and turned to the papers on his desk. It was all done. For three months, handling a few transactions at a time, he had mortgaged their properties, borrowed on their horses, their collection of antique furnishings and their twentieth-century art, and converted the remaining stocks and bonds in the three portfolios to cash. Then he had bought thirteen million dollars in bearer bonds from his broker—bonds that were completely negotiable and safely unregistered—and sent the bonds to a bank in Panama. The bank had cashed the bonds and opened an account held by a company which Monte James had set up, with a local president. From there, the money would be transfered to another account in the name of a development company in which Carlton Sterling was the major shareholder. That whole trail was invisible, since the bearer bonds were unregistered, and therefore, once he bought them, untraceable.
Eventually—Carlton had never asked Sybille for all the details of the trail it would take from there—the thirteen million dollars would be used to purchase thirteen hundred contiguous acres of land near Cul-peper, Virginia. And then the land would be resold to the Hour of Grace Foundation for thirty million dollars.
Massive fraud. The phrase had sprung at him the moment he sent the bearer bonds out of the country. Since then it had growled through his thoughts day and night, never leaving him alone. And there was something else. Sybille. Besides committing himself to fraud, he was committing himself to Sybille. Tying himself to her, irrevocably and forever.
Thoughts like that never occurred to him when he was with her. But as he and Valerie and the others took off for Lake Placid, he had been startled to feel a lighmess and a sense of freedom, and the higher he climbed, the more certainly he had known that the freedom was from Sybille.
With a grunt of exasperation, he shoved back his desk chair and
went outside, pulling on a down jacket. The sun and the sparkling snow were blinding, and he put on dark glasses as he began to walk along the lakeshore. He took deep breaths of the biting air, walking faster until he was almost trotting, leaving deep footprints in the snow. And by the time he came back to the house, breathing heavily, sweating, he knew he could not do it.
What it came down to, he finally admitted, was that he knew damn little of Sybille's machinations, with Graceville or anything else. He wasn't even sure he knew very much about Sybille. What he did know was that he wanted out.
Back in his office, he called her, and told her he had changed his mind. "You haven't bought the land," he said when she remained silent. "The money is still in the development company's account. Fll arrange to withdraw it next Thursday, when we get back." She still was silent. "Fm sorry, Sybille; I know you wanted to help me, and that means a lot to me, it's not that I'm not grateful; I just... changed my mind."
"And what about you?" she asked at last.
"I don't know. I don't know what I'm going to do. I'll just have to figure something else out. I have to talk to Val. I should have known I couldn't keep it from her; it's her money, too."
"Carl, you know you can't—"
"Damn it, I don't want to talk about it! Sorry; I didn't mean to yell. You'll just have to go along this time, Sybille; I'm doing what I have to do, and I've made up my mind. I know you'll understand; you've always understood me, and been there when I needed you. I want to see you next week—okay?—as soon as I get back."
There was a silence. "Of course," she said softly. "You know I want that, too, Carl."
But Sybille had no intention of waiting. That night she called Valerie and invited herself to the Adirondacks. "Just for overnight," she said. "I've been so busy and stressed out I just have to get away and breathe some different air. Your housekeeper told me you'd gone to the mountains and it sounded like just what I need. Would you mind? Or don't you have room for me?"
"There's an empty bedroom, and of course you can come," said Valerie, thinking it made no difference how many guests filled the house; she and Carl could talk anywhere, if that was what they both wanted. "We haven't seen much of you lately; we'd be glad to have you. You should be able to get a flight first thing in the morning."
"I have the Foundation jet; don't worry about me. This is so good
of you, Valerie. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
The Hour of Grace Citation, bringing both Sybille and Lily, landed in Lake Placid on Saturday morning. Half an hour later the two of them had taken possession of the last empty bedroom, with its twin beds and private bath, and had joined everyone for lunch at the round dining table near the fireplace. Sybille praised the house, admiring its views, the size of the rooms, the comfort of the furnishings. "I've never been in the Adirondacks before," she told Valerie and the others at the table. "It's a treat to be here. And thank you for letting me bring Lily. She needs a rest even more than I do; I couldn't leave her behind."
"We're glad you're here," Valerie said to Lily, and began to ask questions about her television program and the new church, still unfinished, though she had been preaching in it for five months. Carlton, stunned by Sybille's presence, torn by his desire for her which reared up with monstrous force as soon as he saw her, pushed his spoon through the chili in his soup bowl, and took huge bites of cornbread. He had to stay away from her; not only because of Val, though that was bad enough—what possessed her to come up here when they'd been so careful for over a year?—but because all his logical thinking of the past few days could collapse if he got close to her. Stay away, he told himself, taut and quivering with wanting her. Stay in the office; go there now. The housekeeper was serving coffee. Go there now; don't wait for dessert; no one will care. Go now!
"Carl," Sybille said, "May I ask your advice about a business deal I'm trying to work out?"
"Not now," he said wildly. "I've got a lot to do. Later, maybe, tomorrow or the next day..."
"Please," she said. "I'm leaving tomorrow and I do need your advice." She put out her hands, pleading. "There aren't many people I can really trust, Carl. Won't you give me just a litde of your time? I brought something to show you."
Carlton's look sharpened. The money, he thought. She'd withdrawn the money herself; she didn't want him to wait, or worry. Damn it, he'd underrated her. "I'll be glad to help," he said and led the way to the bedroom, and through it to his office.
He closed the door. "Carl," Sybille murmured, and she was in his arms, her tongue twisting around his, her arms clasping him to her. Carlton's hands were on her breasts, between her legs, pulling her against him; he wanted to crush her, to throw her to the floor, to enter her and devour her. But she was the one who led the way: she slid
down his body until she was kneeling in front of him. Her quick, clever hands opened his pants and took him inside the clinging, powerful grip of her mouth, and Carlton, moaning silendy at the back of his throat, found the explosive release that sent him plummeting from the taut craze of the lunch table.
Breathing heavily, he pulled away and leaned against the wall, his worry returning as his passion ebbed. "You brought the money?"
"Oh, Carl," said Sybille moumftilly "How can you talk about money? I missed you; I had to be with you. And I thought we might talk a little bit, about the future."
The next afternoon, Sunday, Sybille returned to Washington. Lily stayed behind. "If you have any questions about Graceville, ask her," Sybille told Carlton as he drove her to the Lake Placid airport. "You only began to worry because you had no one to talk to."
"Is that why she's staying with us?" he asked harshly. "To keep me in line?"
Sybille sighed deeply. "She's exhausted, and Valerie very kindly offered to let her stay on and fly back with you." Her voice trembled, 'Tou make me sound very devious, Carl."
"Calculating," he said flady. "Always prepared. The perfect Girl Scout."
Alarmed, she gazed at him for a long moment. Her eyes were hooded. "I'll return your money," she said icily. "I don't want to have anything to do with someone who thinks I'm calculating. All I wanted was to make thirteen million dollars for you, clean up your mess, give you my heart and soul for the rest of my life and do my best to be everything you've ever wanted. I'm sorry that's not good enough for you." She stared straight ahead. "As soon as you get back to Washington, you can have your money We don't have to see each other; my assistant will give it to you. We won't see each other at all; there's no reason to."
Carlton jerked the wheel and brought the car to a stop at the side of the road. He pulled her to him, fingers digging into her arms, his mouth against hers. "Don't play games with me; I've got too much on my mind. I told you I'd go ahead with it; we'll do it and when it's over I'll tell Val I'm leaving. She won't mind; there isn't much between us anymore—she said that herself—and she's getting impatient; I know she'd rather be free and find someone else. I don't want any more crap from you about not seeing me anymore; is that clear? You'll see me all the time; we're doing this together and we'll be together."
Sybille nodded. "Forever," she breadied, and locked her moudi to his.
They did not speak for the rest of the drive to the airport. When they pulled up, Carlton said, "I'll have a cup of coffee with you before you leave."
"No." She opened her door and slid out. "My pilofs been here for an hour; I want to leave right away." She gazed about her. "Where's your plane, Carl? I don't see it."
"At the end of the field, near the hangar."
She strained to see it in the fading light. "At the very end? Oh, there it is. We've had some good trips in it, haven't we? Especially up here, when we had the house to ourselves."
He took her overnight bag from the car. "I'll call you tonight."
She kissed him, her lips clinging, reluaant to pull away. "I'll wait for that. And I'll see you soon."
"Next Thursday"
He watched her walk to the Base Operations office, to meet her pilot, and then he drove away, back to his house, back to Valerie, back to Lily who was waiting to reassure him about Graceville, back to the worries that began again as soon as Sybille was out of sight.
He could still feel her mouth locked to his. Forever. He and Sybille. Guilty of fi-aud. We're doin^ this together. We'll he together. Forever.
He avoided Lily, whose troubled gaze followed him as he paced the great room, from the fireplace at one end to the open kitchen at the other. He spent the evening in his office; when he called Sybille, the sound of her voice drove him into a frenzy of desire and revulsion and he cut the call short. He stayed there all night, angry at himself for his indecision, angry at Sybille for putting him through this agony, angry at Valerie for not caring about him enough to insist he tell her the truth so he could share the mess he'd made and let her find a way out for both of them.
At dawn, he glanced at the calendar on his desk. Monday. The day they were to close on the purchase of the land.
"No we won't," he muttered in the chilly room. He swept the papers off his desk; memos, mortgage documents, stock and bond transactions, financial projections, and stuffed them into a cardboard folder. I'll be damned if I'll let myself be sucked into this. Sucked into her. Val said we'd share it. I trust Val.
As he said that, he knew he did not trust Sybille and never had. He only wanted her. But this time he was through. "I'm going back," he
said, his determination stiffening as he heard the sound of his words. "She won't close on that land; I won't let her."
"I'm going back," he said to Valerie, lEinding her lying wakeful in bed. "Right away. I have things to do; I can't put them off any longer."
She sat up. "We'U ail go."
"No. You stay; I don't want you to—"
"We'll all go." She flung aside the bedclothes and went to the closet, pulling out pants and a shirt and sweater.
Carlton's eyes passed over her slender nude body as if she were not there. "I don't want you to go. I don't want to ruin your vacation."
"It isn't a vacation; you couldn't ruin it, because it was a farce from the beginning; and I have no desire to stay here." She was pulling on her clothes. "Wake the others, Carl. We can be ready in an hour."
"I can't wait that long."
She looked at her watch. "In an hour it will be eight o'clock. We'll be home by ten-thirty. That should be time for a full day's work. Carl, we're going with you."
"Look, I promised Betsy and Alex nine days—"
"I don't give a damn about Betsy and Alex. I still give a damn about you, and I'm going with you."
Carlton's breath came out in a long sigh. She was taking care of everything. Thank God. He wanted her with him. He hated going home to an empty house. He hated worrying about problems alone. And he didn't want to be with Sybille; he wanted to be with Val. She was clean and straight and that was what he needed. I love her, he thought, and felt a cold sinking within him when he thought of the harm he had done her. I have so much to make up to her for; if 11 take all the years we have ahead of us to tell her how sorry I am, and to get back what was hers. It'll take all those years just to make her believe how much I love her.
"Carl, I'm ready," Valerie said. She touched his arm. "We'll work it out, whatever trouble you're in, and then we'll do something about us."
Her voice was soothing, as if she knew everything and had already forgiven him, and Carlton felt a wave of relief. He didn't have to worr' about Val; she'd stick with him; she'd help him; she'd be fine. "You get the others," he said. "I'll close up the house."
A litde over an hour later, they were at the airport, shivering in the bitter morning air while Carlton opened the door of his plane and
Stowed their luggage. "Lily, Betsy, Alex," he said, barking orders, and they took three of the seats behind the two in front, fastening their seat belts. Lily seemed in a daze; she had not said a word on the drive from the house to the airport. Betsy had complained bitterly—she'd turned down four parties to come to the Adirondacks—until Alex told her to be quiet; Carl wouldn't leave in a hurry unless he had a good reason.
Carlton gave a cursory glance at his preflight checklist, then put it aside. He didn't have time for the whole thing, and they'd been here only a few days, not long enough for anything to change. In the pilot's seat he started the engines and checked his instruments while Valerie locked the door and climbed into the seat beside him.
''Everybody strapped in?" he asked happily. He was feeling better: he was on his way, he was taking action, he was in charge of his Ufe again. "Okay, then, we're off. Home in a couple of hours."
And the small plane lifted off, into the gray January sky.
^ V
Chapter 19
^j^-^ veryone said she should marry again, someone
^^ ^^..^ wealthy, right away. They came to visit her in her
V f j mother's Park Avenue apartment, where she had
^^y^ gone when she left the hospital, to begin the long
recovery from the crash. And her friends sat with her, discussing her ftiture. "You have to marry," they repeated. "All your money gone... how else will you manage? What would you do?"
"Clean stables," Valerie said with biting humor. "Fve been on the other side so long, it's probably time I learned."
"Be serious, Val," they said. "Think about the fiiture."
"I will," she said gravely, as if she were not already thinking about it every hour, every day, and dreaming about it at night. Her bruises were fading, her feet were healing, but her thoughts were still in turmoil. She could not mourn Carl without being ftirious and bewildered. "It makes no sense," she said to Dee Wyly, who visited almost every day. "If he was in trouble, why didn't he tell me?"
"He didn't gamble," Dee said thoughtftilly. "Not much, anyway; he didn't like it, did he?"
"He said he didn't. I can't even be sure of that anymore." Valerie
nibbled on one of the chocolates Dee had brought. The two of them had been close friends for a long time, and Dee was one of the few women Valerie could talk to comfortably. Blond, warmly attractive and without affectation, Dee was the only one who had wondered aloud if it was a good idea for Valerie to marry Carlton. She had not mentioned that to Valerie since the crash, but both of them remembered it.
"He could have been fleeced by someone," she said, looking past Valerie at a photograph of Carlton on a side table. "He was like a little boy sometimes, don't you think? Every now and then I thought he looked downright lost." She studied the photograph. "Don't you think somebody could have taken advantage of him?"
