“Why did you want to talk to me today, Eleanor?” Reed asked after a moment.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“No, I don't. But I am curious.”
Eleanor gripped her glass. Reed was notorious about coming directly to a point. “The August meeting.”
“Ah.”
She looked at him. “Tell me the truth, Reed. Is Nick going to try to take over control of Castleton & Lightfoot at that meeting?”
“I think it's safe to assume he's going to attempt it.”
“The only way he can do it is with your help. Are you going to help him?” She could be as blunt as any Lightfoot, Eleanor told herself.
“What makes you think I'm the only hope he's got? Darren could back him or you could. With either of you on his side plus his own shares and Phila's, Nick could do just about anything he damn well pleased.”
“The Castletons, all of us, will back Hilary.”
Reed nodded. “You'll have to vote as you see fit.”
Eleanor leaned toward him. “We need her running things, Reed. The only other person we could even consider is you.”
Reed shook his head. “No. I'm not going to step back into that job. Not for all the tea in China. It was good while it lasted, but it's time to turn it over to someone younger. Life is so goddamned short, Eleanor. I don't want to spend the rest of mine behind a desk.”
“You want to spend it playing golf? Is that all you can think of these days?”
“No. Sometimes I think about grandkids.” Reed sipped his brandy. “I envy you, Eleanor. You have your son and you have little Jordan. That's more than I've had for quite a while now.”
“For better or worse, your son appears to have returned. The question is why and for how long?”
“I know. Interesting questions. I ask myself the same ones every day.”
“Reed, if he regains control of the company, you know what he'll do with it. He'll start moving away from the government contracts. He'll start pushing again for a broader consumer market. There's no telling how far he'll go with his changes this time. You and Burke won't be there to stop him. He'll have C&L designing home-entertainment centers, for heaven's sake. That's not the kind of business this company was founded upon. Ten years ago you and Burke would have refused even to consider going in that direction.”
“That was ten years ago and Burke is dead. I may be dead myself, one of these days.” Reed smiled.
“Don't talk like that.” The brandy glass trembled in her hand.
He frowned at her obvious alarm. “Hey, just kidding. I'm only trying to point out that what Burke and I wanted for the company ten, twenty or thirty years ago may not be what the next generation wants. And it's their company, Eleanor. The important thing is that C&L survive and that it stay in the families. Beyond that, Nick and Darren are welcome to do any damn thing they want with it as far as I'm concerned.”
“What about Hilary?” Eleanor asked, feeling desperate. “Where does she fit into all this? She has some rights, too.”
“Yes.” Reed took another swallow of brandy. “She has some rights. I'm not denying that.”
“She's given everything she has to C&L over the past three years.”
“I realize that.”
“Yet you're seriously thinking of backing Nick at the August meeting, aren't you?”
“I'm thinking about it, yes. That's all I'm doing at this point, Eleanor. Thinking about it.”
Eleanor forced herself to remain calm. “You'd do that, Reed? You'd back Nick? Knowing what he did to all of us three years ago?”
“Lately I've begun to wonder if we all might have misinterpreted what happened three years ago. In fact, I'm beginning to think we may have been fools three years ago.”
“It's all that woman's fault.” Eleanor whispered. “She started all of this.”
“Crissie Masters?”
Eleanor could barely bring herself to nod once in confirmation. She hoped she would not break down in front of Reed. It would be so terribly embarrassing. “Now we have Philadelphia Fox dropping into our lives, interfering with things that should never have concerned her in the first place.”
“I think that when all is said and done, I'm going to owe Philadelphia Fox,” Reed mused.
Eleanor looked up sharply. “Why do you say that?”
“No matter how you slice it, she's the one responsible for giving me back my son.”
“Don't give her too much credit. You don't have Nick back. Not really. Keep in mind, too, that a woman with her sort of background is only looking out for her own self-interest. What else could you expect from her type?”
“Nora used to say that you had a thing about people's backgrounds,” Reed commented. “I know yours is pretty fancy, but you've got to remember that mine isn't. Neither is my son's, when you get right down to it. We're just plain folks, Eleanor, even though you've done your best over the years. Plain folks can't look back too much. Nothing there to see. People like us tend to look to the future, not the past.”
Eleanor did not think she could take any more. She put down the brandy glass and got to her feet. “Please think very carefully about what you'll be doing to all of us if you back Nick.”
“Darren will do all right, even if Nick does take charge,” Reed said gently. “Don't you worry about that son of yours.”
That comment stopped her abruptly halfway to the door. “How do you know that?” Eleanor whispered.
“I've known him for as long as I've known my own son, remember? Darren's a lot tougher than Burke ever realized. Or maybe Burke did realize it and was afraid to admit his son would go farther than he had. I don't know the answer to that one, but I do know that if Darren really wants to be governor, he'll get the job, one way or the other. He's got all of Burke's strengths but none of his worst weaknesses, thank God. He's also got a lot of you in him. The part that toughs it out to the end, no matter what the price.”
Eleanor felt a curious warmth steal through her. “Burke never thought Darren would make it in politics or anything else,” she pointed out, knowing that what she was really asking for was more reassurance.
“Don't mean to speak ill of the dead. God knows Burke was my best friend and partner for over forty years. But I gotta be truthful with you, Eleanor. In some ways he was a horse's ass.”
Eleanor flinched. “Yes, he was, wasn't he?” she heard herself say just before her hand touched the doorknob.
“Thank you, Reed. Thank you for believing in my son.”
“Eleanor?”
“I'm glad you like this room, Reed,” she said quickly, before he could continue. “I worked very hard on it for you.”
“I know.” Reed got to his feet and stood looking at her across the width of the beautiful room. “I've always been comfortable in here.”
“Good.”
“Why did you spend so much time on my library, Eleanor?”
“Isn't it obvious? I designed these rooms, let's see, when was it? Thirty years ago?”
“Thirty-one years ago.”
“Yes. Well, no matter. I knew by then I'd married the wrong man, you see. I knew I was trapped and that I'd never have the man I loved. He was already very happy with someone else. But I wanted to do something for him. I wanted him to be comfortable in some small way and to know that I had been responsible for that comfort. I wanted him to think of me, if only for a second or two, each time he sat in that wing-back chair.”
She let herself out the door.
“Are you sure I look all right?” Phila stood in front of the mirrored wall of Nick's bedroom and examined her image for the hundredth time. “I feel weird in black. Like I'm supposed to be going to a funeral or something.” The dress was close fitting, accenting Phila's small waist. It was cut in an exquisitely simple style.
Nick stood behind her, tying his bow tie with practiced ease. “I'll admit it's not your best color.”
“I do look terrible,” Phila wailed, her worst fears c
onfirmed. “I knew it. I tried to tell Vicky, but she insisted I buy it.”
Nick grinned at her in the mirror. “I'm just teasing. You look terrific. Vicky was right. The dress is very sophisticated. I'm going to be proud as hell to walk into that room tonight with you on my arm.”
“What's the bottom line here?” Phila demanded suspiciously.
“The bottom line is that I'm used to seeing you in shocking pink or Day-Glo orange, and somehow black just looks a little quiet on you, that's all.”
“Meaning I'm not the sophisticated type?”
“You really are looking for trouble tonight, aren't you?”
“I told you I didn't want to go with you to this thing.” She turned away from the mirror, knowing she was fussing too much. She should just accept the inevitable. She was going to go to Darren's fund-raiser because Nick had insisted she be there.
Phila was learning that when Nicodemus Lightfoot put his foot down about something, that foot was anything but light.
She collected the tiny black-and-silver purse Victoria had decreed was appropriate for the dress and stepped into the black evening pumps.
She had her reasons for being irritable and out of sorts tonight, and when the fund-raiser was over she would share the news with Nick. He would, no doubt, be vastly relieved. In the meantime, she had all she could do to deal with it herself.
“Ready?” Nick picked up his black tuxedo jacket.
“As ready as I'll ever be.” She turned around and found herself staring at him. “Very impressive,” she said at last.
The formal black-and-white evening clothes accentuated his powerful shoulders and the solidly built lines of his body. It made him appear deliciously dangerous, she thought.
“You look like you're seeing a whole new side of me,” Nick murmured.
Phila grinned. “Actually, you look like a gangster. All you need is a red rose in your lapel and a bulge under your arm where your shoulder holster is supposed to be.”
“And you look like a sexy little vamp.” Nick tilted her chin with his forefinger and kissed the tip of her nose. “Let's go before I change my mind and decide to let you jump me.”
“I didn't even know you were weighing a decision in that regard. I thought we had to go to this thing.”
“Stop whining. We do have to go to this thing.” Nick turned off the bedroom lights. “We'll save the jumping for later.”
Phila grumbled and then automatically inhaled the magnificent view as they walked through the living room. The late-summer sun was disappearing slowly, bathing Elliott Bay and the islands in a warm, yellow glow.
“Heck of a view,” Phila said. “You must have missed this place while you were living in California.”
“I did miss it. I don't think I realized just how much until now.”
“This is certainly a fancy condominium. Great location, great view, all the amenities. First-class urban design. I wonder how many low-income housing units were demolished so the developers could build this sucker.”
Nick chuckled. “Save your energy. I'm not going to let you make me feel guilty about living here. I earned every square inch of this place. Just for your information, however, the building that used to be on this site was an old, abandoned warehouse. A real eyesore. Does that make you feel better?”
“Much.” She took one last look around at the refined collection of polished antique furniture. “Have the Lightfoots and Castletons always gone for the Early Constitution look?”
“You don't like the interior design of this place?”
Phila shrugged. “Kind of dark. Needs some color.”
Nick glanced around as he turned off the lights. He smiled. “I wondered about that myself.”
By the time Nick and Phila arrived, a well-heeled, well-dressed crowd had already gathered in the large reception room at the top of the sleek downtown high-rise. Phila looked around warily as she walked through the door on Nick's arm. The room was full, she noted. Darren must be pleased. The lively hum of voices was interrupted here and there by an occasional laugh and the clink of ice in glasses.
A formally dressed trio of musicians played Mozart in one corner, and waiters carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres and drinks circulated through the crowd. The panorama of Seattle and its bay was spread out far below, magnificently showcased through huge windows. The last gleam of sunlight glanced off the Olympics.
But the view, the food, the drinks and Mozart all took second place to the main attraction of the evening. There was no doubt about it, Darren Castleton was the primary focus of attention. Lean, elegant, dynamic, he held center stage wherever he moved in the crowd. He did so easily, naturally, as if it were second nature to him. He came alive in a crowd like this the way a brilliant actor came alive on the screen. Beside him, Victoria looked just as beautifully at ease, just as much in control. The ideal American couple.
“Charisma,” Phila murmured, snagging a glass of champagne off a passing tray.
Nick crunched an oyster wrapped in bacon. “Yeah, he's got it in spades, doesn't he? You sort of have to see him working a crowd like this to realize the effect he has on people.”
“It's a rare form of power,” Phila said slowly.
“Uh huh. I always knew Darren had something going for him, something I couldn't quite define, but as long as Burke was alive, it was subdued. As if whatever it was hadn't had a chance really to blossom. Now it's starting to shine. Jesus. The man really might be the next governor of this state.”
“I think you're right,” Phila said softly. “And look at Vicky. She'd make a perfect governor's lady. Heck, she'd make a perfect president's lady. She's so poised and charming and lovely.”
“And when they bring out little Jordan for the photographers, they're going to get the front page in tomorrow's Seattle Times,” Nick concluded.
“Be interesting to see if Jordan tries to display his self-destructing seaweed collection for the photographers.” Phila glanced around and saw Eleanor moving toward them.
“There you are,” Eleanor said grandly as she stopped in front of them. Her face was aglow with maternal pride. “Thank you for coming tonight, Nick.”
“I said we'd be here.” Nick took a glass from a passing tray. “Looks like everything's going well. Where's Dad?”
“Over there with Hilary, talking to some business friends.” Eleanor glanced at Phila. “I see you decided to attend after all?”
“I couldn't get out of it.” Phila smiled brilliantly. “I'll try not to embarrass the families.”
“That would be much appreciated.” Eleanor moved away with a nod to Nick.
“In our baiting mode tonight, are we?” Nick observed quietly, his eyes on the crowd.
“She started it.”
“Eleanor didn't start anything. You're just edgy this evening. Why?”
“I am not edgy. It's Eleanor who's edgy, not me. If you want to calm her down, tell her you've decided to give full support to Darren in his bid for the governor's job.”
“I'm here tonight, aren't I? Doesn't that show support?”
“It's a step in the right direction, but Darren requires more than that and you know it. He needs your help behind the scenes, not just at public functions like this.”
“Philadelphia Fox, the political mastermind.”
“That's me.” Phila realized she was still feeling irritable and a little depressed. She reached for another glass of champagne.
“Has it escaped your notice that Darren is hardly a liberal Democrat?”
“No, but I have hopes for him.”
“You think he'll convert?”
Phila smiled ruefully. “I don't have that much hope for him, but I think he can be made to see reason, which puts him several notches above the average Republican. He's educable.”
“I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear that.”
Phila grinned briefly. “I already told him.” She glanced around again and spotted a familiar figure. “Hilary certainly looks gorgeous tonight
.”
“Hilary always looks gorgeous.” Nick did not seem particularly interested. “Come on, we'd better mingle. This is business.”
“Think of it as Family Unity night. The Castletons and the Lightfoots—just one big happy family.”
Nick started into the crowd, towing Phila behind him. He nodded at several pepple, stopped to talk briefly with others and finally halted near a man and a woman who were standing near the windows. The woman, an attractive brunette in her early forties, glanced up and then smiled warmly.
“Nick! Good to see you again. It's been awhile. Are you just visiting, or are you home to stay?”
“I plan to stay this time. Phila, this is Barbara Appleton and her husband, Norm. They're old friends. Barbara, Norm, this is Philadelphia Fox.”
“How do you do?” Phila said politely. “Don't I know your name from somewhere, Mrs. Appleton?”
“I make the papers once in a while, when there's nothing else of great importance occurring in the world.” Barbara laughed.
Phila thought quickly, made the connection and brightened immediately. “Now I remember. You're one of the people working to get funding for day-care facilities for the children of homeless people. We've heard about your efforts all the way over in eastern Washington. I'm thrilled to meet you.”
Barbara Appleton smiled, looking faintly bemused. “Most people run the other way when they're introduced to me. They're afraid I'll ask for money. Do you have an interest in the matter of day care for homeless kids?”
“I am—was—a social worker. Until recently I've been working with the foster-home program. I'm very aware of the homeless problem here in Seattle.”
“The parents are under such stress, and the children suffer so. They desperately need a structured, safe environment. You can't raise children in cars and buses and shelters.”
“If you're a parent, you can't very well hunt for a job or get training or deal with the bureaucracy of the welfare system if you've got a couple of kids in your arms. I think the day-care idea for those kids is great. How's the project going?”
“We're supporting two centers now and hope to get a third started this fall.”