Page 20 of Change of Heart


  He knew he’d never seen anything more delicious-looking in his life.

  “Was that a call to Frank, your mom, Pilar, or Jeff?” she asked without looking up. “Or was it the prez?”

  “Dad. Jeff seems to have a girlfriend and the president is busy. Pilar is—”

  “Is sick of you.”

  “Is she?” Eli asked. “Is that why you weren’t jealous of her? By the way, Jeff fixed all that up,

  not me.”

  “Of course he did. You have the hot body but a lack of interest in the mating ritual, while Jeff is the opposite.”

  What she’d said was so ridiculous that Eli laughed. “You and Jeff would get along well. He wants to do a soul exchange and put himself in my body. But of course my body would deteriorate without consistent exercise—which he hates. Move over.”

  He sat down on the bed beside her and leaned over to look at the screen.

  “You should take a shower,” she said. “You smell like smoke.”

  “What artificial scent does your polo player use?”

  “I’m not telling. Look what I found.” She turned the screen around. There was a newspaper article about the suicide of Gilbert Ridgeway, one of the partners of Longacre Furniture.

  “Suicide?” Eli was frowning. He took the computer from her and began typing. In minutes he’d brought up an official coroner’s report on Gil Ridgeway.

  “You have access to files like this?”

  “Yes. He hanged himself and his wife, Grace, found him.” Eli set the computer back on Chelsea’s lap, put his arms behind his head, and leaned against the headboard.

  “Out with it,” she said. “I can see the wheels in your brain working. What did you and your dad talk about?”

  “Besides you? He’s going to have some people look into the finances of the two furniture stores.”

  “And the other businesses?”

  He looked at her.

  “You’re not the only one who can use a computer. Longacre Furniture is a subsidiary of a larger corporation. They own several businesses around Virginia. A car wash, a couple of motels that look pretty sleazy, six liquor stores, and a few other things. And poor Orin and his dying wife—you know, the babe in the blue blouse—own an apartment in New York on Central Park South and a house in the Caymans.

  As she spoke, Eli’s eyes grew wider. “You didn’t find this on Google.”

  Chelsea shrugged. “I have contacts too. So what are we going to do about this?”

  “Nothing. Dad will take care of it through legal channels. It’s not for you and me.”

  “Okay,” she said as she put the laptop on the bed, and started to get off it.

  Eli caught her arm but Chelsea didn’t look at him. “I thought maybe we might go back to Edilean and see if we could help Grace and Abby.”

  “By doing what?”

  “I don’t know, but maybe Robin and Marian could figure out how to get a dress for Abby. You have any idea what teenage girls wear to a prom?”

  Chelsea turned halfway toward him. “What about Grace?”

  “I bet we could find her a better job than whatever she has now.”

  “Maybe when Pilar quits, Grace could take over.”

  “That would take a year or more of security clearance. And if her husband committed suicide because he was involved in something illegal, and his business partner is a criminal, that’s going to take even longer.”

  Chelsea had turned all the way around and was glaring at him. “Do you have any romance in you at all? Or have you become some muscle-bound, soulless machine?”

  Eli didn’t reply to that, but slowly sat up straight, then reached out and pulled her down to the bed. Before she could reply, he put his lips on hers.

  He’d meant it to be a sort of demonstration kiss, but the moment his lips touched hers, he knew this was what he’d been waiting for. This woman was the reason he’d paid little attention to other women.

  Her mouth opened under his, her arms went around his neck and pulled him closer. Their tongues met. Years of longing, of understanding, of memories, flowed through them.

  It was Chelsea who broke away, turning her head to one side. “Go,” she whispered. “Leave me.”

  Eli rolled off the bed and got in the shower—a cold one.

  The next morning, by the time they’d had breakfast and packed—and Chelsea had taken a second shower and blow-dried her hair—it was late when they got to the furniture store. Frank had texted one word, RICHMOND, and that’s where they went.

  They had to park at the back of the big lot because the rest of it was full of vehicles with FBI and IRS painted on the side. Men and women in lettered jackets were carrying file boxes and computers out of the furniture store.

  “I think we should go,” Eli said. “We don’t want to get mixed up in this.”

  “Your dad certainly knows the right people. Do you think they arrested Orin?”

  “They can’t until they find some evidence against him.”

  She looked at Eli. “Did you tell your dad that we have proof of what he’s been doing? There’s the old house and the beat-up old car and how he took three hundred dollars from his former business partner’s wife.”

  “Not one of those is a criminal activity. A jury would see him as a sleaze but you can’t put a man in jail for that.”

  “So Grace is on her own?”

  “’Fraid so,” Eli said. “Let’s go back and see what we can do to help her. I bet Abby could use a makeover. You could put black stuff on her eyelids.”

  Chelsea glared at him. “Why are you trying to get me away from here?” Before he could answer, she hurried forward, making her way toward the storefront.

  Eli went after her, but he was hindered by half a dozen men who stopped to stare at Chelsea. But then, she was smiling her way through the crowd so that no one questioned her.

  A few feet from the front door, she stopped beside an IRS van and stood there watching.

  Just as Eli feared, Orin Peterson was there talking to two men wearing FBI jackets. He had on one of his hand-tailored suits and looked very different from the down-and-outer they’d seen in the diner.

  “He’s not being arrested,” Chelsea said when Eli got to her. “And he doesn’t look afraid at all.”

  “My guess is that if he has incriminating evidence, it’s hidden. Or maybe there is none. Maybe he only lies to his ex-partner’s wife. Maybe she turned him down and he wants to get her back.” Eli was standing behind Chelsea and put his hands on her shoulders. “We need to go.”

  “What are you—” She broke off because Orin looked up and saw the two of them. At first his face showed only appreciation for a pretty girl, but when he saw Eli, recognition came to him.

  For a split second, his dark eyes glowed with such hatred that it sent chills through both of them.

  “He’s guilty,” Chelsea said.

  Eli’s hands clamped down on her shoulders and led her away. At the end of the van, he took her hand firmly in his.

  “What a great poker player he must be,” Chelsea was saying even as Eli pulled her at a near run. “He did that act with poor Grace with such sincerity. His tears! Remember them?”

  Eli nearly pushed her into the passenger seat, got in the other side, and drove out of the parking lot.

  “Why do you think he went to such an elaborate scam with that old house and the story of his dying wife? What does he want from Grace? Or what is he afraid she’ll find out?”

  “I have no idea,” Eli said. “I think we need to stay out of this. You can get a dress for the girl and send it to her.”

  She looked at him. “So what’s spooked you?”

  “A gut feeling,” Eli said. “And the look in that man’s eyes when he recognized us. He knows we had something to do with this raid.”

 
She looked back at the road. “I’m sure you’re right. You’re going to let law enforcement handle it, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Eli said. “I am.”

  “That’s a good plan. I’ll find a dress for Abby and send it as a gift from Orin.”

  “Better not use his name. I’ll find out more about Grace and we’ll send it from another relative. That will be nice for her.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Chelsea said, her voice rising. “Mind if I buy her some jewelry and shoes too? I mean, after all, that’s all I’m good for, isn’t it? To paint eyelids black and pick out clothes. That’s what I do. You’re the brains while I’m only good for dressing people.”

  “And hair,” Eli said softly.

  Chelsea’s face was red with her anger. “What?!”

  “You’re good with hair too. Yours is clean and shiny today. It’s really pretty.”

  “You’re a bastard.”

  “Actually, I’m not. I have two fathers. There was a time when they fought over me, but Frank won.”

  Chelsea was looking out the side window. Her anger was fading. Unlike every other man she knew, Eli always knew how to calm her down. It didn’t take a genius to see that he was trying to protect her from what could possibly be a dangerous situation.

  “Why did you contact me?” she asked, all trace of anger gone.

  He took a moment before answering. “I saw a photo of you online. You were with your polo boyfriend. Two young women were pouring champagne over his head and you were in the background. You were smiling but I knew you weren’t happy.”

  “You felt sorry for me?”

  “I thought that maybe it was time that you’d give me a chance.”

  Chelsea sighed. “Are you saying you were hoping I was ready to get married, have a couple of kids, and stay home to wait for you to return? Would I be one of those wives who makes sure you packed clean socks when you fly off to Antwerp?”

  “I didn’t think that far ahead.”

  “Eli,” Chelsea said, “I’m not like that. Do you know the truth of why I stopped writing you?”

  “No,” he said and the word caught in his throat. That had been a long time ago, but the pain was still there.

  “Right after my dad said we were going to leave the state, leave you, I thought my heart would break. But then one day I showed up at your house unexpectedly. Your mom let me in and said you were in the nursery. I saw you there holding the new baby and Frank was leaning over both of you. There was such love and . . . I don’t know what—contentment, maybe—in that room that it scared me. I left without telling you I’d been there.”

  She looked at Eli. “I’m not like your mom. Miranda never wanted more than a family and a home. All of you are her whole life. But that’s not me.”

  “So what do you want?” Eli asked.

  Chelsea let her head fall back against the seat. His tone was saying that he’d try to give her whatever it was that she wanted. But she knew enough about life to know that wouldn’t work. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  “More race-car drivers?” There was no anger in his voice, just a deep desire to know.

  She gave a little laugh. “I’m not sure that what the man does matters. It’s taken me a long time to learn that. Would it make any sense to say that I’ll know it when I find it?”

  “I guess so.”

  When she looked at him, she saw the sadness in his eyes. “What if I said that if you’d quit your government job, I’d agree to spend my life with you? We could see the world. Would you do it?”

  “No,” Eli said, “because then you might be happy but I’d be miserable. It wouldn’t work.”

  “I like your honesty.” She reached through to the backseat. “Does your laptop have an internet connection even on the road?”

  “Of course.”

  “You have some special hookup that the rest of us don’t have?”

  When he glanced at her, the sadness was gone from his eyes. “I do. It’s from Japan and it’s going to make a fortune. Planning to find Grace and Abby?”

  “Yes.” She started tapping keys. “Eli, just so you know, I may not be in this for the picket fence and family dinner on Sunday, but sex is fine with me.”

  “Nice to hear,” he said, but he made no further comment.

  When they got back to Edilean, it was growing dark and Eli drove past the house. He parked some distance away, under some trees.

  “Why aren’t you using your driveway?” Chelsea asked.

  “I want you to stay here in the car and wait for me.”

  To Chelsea’s astonishment, he leaned across her, opened the glove box, pressed a button, and a little tray fell down. There was a pistol attached to it. Eli took the firearm and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.

  “Someone’s in the house,” he said.

  “You think it might be something to do with Orin the thief?” When she looked at the house, she saw no evidence that anyone was inside. All the windows were dark.

  “I have no idea, but I’m not taking any chances.” He got out of the car, then leaned back to her. “If I flick the lights three times, then it’s safe to come in.” He closed the car door soundlessly and slipped away through the trees and shrubs.

  Chelsea stayed in the car, her eyes wide. This was a side of Eli she’d never seen before!

  In just minutes the lights flashed three times, then stayed on. The house was lit up like daylight.

  Feeling a bit shocked from seeing Eli with a gun in his hand, she walked back to the house and opened the back door.

  The first thing she saw was Eli and his assistant, Jeff, in a quiet argument. Jeff seemed to be talking rapidly, and by his gestures he was apologizing. Not far from them was a pretty young woman who seemed to be in the process of refastening her clothes.

  On the end of the granite kitchen countertop were two pistols. She recognized the smaller black one as Eli’s, but whose was the silver one?

  She got her answer when the woman picked it up.

  It looked like Jeff and his girlfriend had been making out on the living room sofa. And everyone was either angry or embarrassed.

  Chelsea decided to step in before emotions took over. “Hi, I’m Chelsea,” she said loudly. “Is there any food in the house? Eli nearly starved me on the way here so maybe we could find something to eat. Or order carryout?”

  “I have to go,” the woman said, her face red. “I need to—”

  Chelsea put her arm around the woman’s shoulders. “You can’t leave now. I’ve had days of Eli’s morose company and I need some girl time. What are you that you carry a gun?”

  “Deputy sheriff.” From her look, she seemed to be worried that she might be fired after tonight.

  “How wonderful,” Chelsea said as she ushered her toward the refrigerator. “Look in there and see what you can find. And Jeff, do you know where the plates are? Of course you do. You probably bought them. Heaven knows Eli wouldn’t bother with them. He used to use the leaves from my mother’s elephant-ear plants for plates.”

  They were all standing there staring at her. “Eli! Get some wine. No, make that champagne. You do have some, don’t you?”

  Eli’s face changed from glowering to twinkling eyes. As Chelsea walked past him, she said under her breath, “Put your gun away and lighten up!”

  Thirty minutes later the four of them were sitting in the breakfast room around a table loaded with food and drink. Chelsea had found out that the deputy’s name was Melissa.

  “I thought the two of them were going to kill each other,” Jeff was saying as he waved his glass around. “There Lissa and I were, snuggled down on the couch, and suddenly this big, dark man is holding a gun over us.”

  Melissa was smiling but Chelsea could see that she was still embarrassed
over the whole thing. Chelsea decided to change the subject. “Tell me about Lanny Frazier. Does he often change the tires of ladies in distress?”

  “He has done. How do you know that?” Melissa asked.

  The men stayed quiet while the two women figured things out. Pilar and the sheriff’s brother, Lanny, had been out on a date—one that lasted all night.

  “What’s he look like?” Chelsea asked.

  “He’s the number three in the bar,” Eli said.

  She knew who he meant. The man they’d had the wager on. She looked at Eli. “In that case, you’re going to lose your secretary.”

  He didn’t smile. “A woman doesn’t have to give up her life, her very identity, just because she falls for some guy.”

  Jeff threw a piece of bread at Eli. “Stop with the heavy! Did he make you miserable on your little trip? How was camping?”

  Eli finally smiled. “I have a picture I want to show you.”

  Chelsea groaned. “Please tell me you don’t have the bear-cub photo. My dad still shows that to people. Hey! I still want to know why you insisted that I go camping.”

  Eli started to reply, but then he just waved his hand to indicate the table of food that Chelsea was eating, her clean face and hair, and the big smile on her face.

  “You’re taking credit for all this?” Chelsea said as Eli got up, went to a cabinet, and pulled out an old photo album.

  Across the table, Jeff and Melissa looked at each other. He’d told her a lot about the attachment of Chelsea and Eli, and it looked like everything he’d said was true.

  It was later, after they’d all laughed over the photos in the album—all of them agreeing that now Jeff looked more like the young Eli than Eli did today—that Chelsea asked about Grace Ridgeway.

  Melissa wasn’t fooled. She went from laughing to serious in a second. “How do you know her?”

  Chelsea started to prepare her words but Eli stepped in.

  “We met her in a diner. Very nice lady who talked about little else but her teenage daughter, Abby. Grace said she was meeting someone, and later we saw some guy who looked like a bum come in. And we saw Grace hand him some money. She didn’t look rich, so we were concerned.”