“Where the hell have you been?” Vincent rapped out. “I've been calling you since seven-thirty this morning to find out how things went down in Portland.”
“Things went fine down in Portland. Next time you can't reach me at my place, try Jessie's.”
Benedict blinked and then started to turn a strange shade of red. “You spent the night with her? You're sleeping with my Jessie?”
“Better get used to the idea, Benedict. I'm going to marry her, remember?”
“You damn well better marry her now or I'll get out my shotgun.” Vincent drummed his fingers on the desk and narrowed his gaze. “I suppose this is a sign the courtship is going okay?”
“I like to think of it that way. Before I forget, I'll be gone for a couple of days this week. Jessie and I are going up to the San Juans while she investigates her psychic cult case. You're in charge while I'm out of town. Don't run us into Chapter Eleven, okay?”
“For Christ's sake, Hatch. You're the CEO around here. You can't just take off like this.”
“Not much point being the boss if you can't take a couple of days off when you feel like it, is there?” Hatch growled.
“Goddammit, this DEL thing is crazy. Don't waste your time on it.”
“No choice. Jessie's decided to waste her time on it, so that means I've got to waste some of mine. You don't want her going into that mess alone, do you?”
“Hell, no. I don't want her going at all.”
“She's made up her mind. So I'm going alone to ride shotgun.”
Vincent glowered at him. “Strikes me she's got you running around in circles. If you can't control her any better than this, I'm not so sure you're the right man for her after all.”
Hatch's fingers clamped around the edge of the door. He smiled thinly. “Stay out of this, Benedict. I'm in charge around here, remember?”
“I can cancel your contract anytime, and don't you forget it.”
“You won't do that. Not as long as you're getting what you want. And so far, I'm giving you exactly what you want. Oh, yeah, congratulations on Elizabeth's first-place win in the science fair.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Vincent nodded proudly. “The kid gets her smarts from my side of the family.”
Jessie lounged in the chair next to her mother and watched Lilian methodically try on twelve different pairs of shoes. The saleswoman who had brought out the dozen boxes did not seem in the least dismayed by the prospect of a customer who wanted to try on so many different styles. Lilian Benedict was a regular at the big downtown department store's shoe salon. She never left without buying at least one pair.
“You're serious about this nonsense of going up to the San Juans to look at some cult headquarters?” Lilian frowned thoughtfully at the pair of patent-leather heels she was considering.
“Afraid so,” Jessie said cheerfully. “I don't like those. The spectator pumps look better on you.”
The truth was, almost anything Lilian tried on looked good. She had the same innate style that Constance had. Lilian was a few years older than Constance but she kept her dark hair tinted close to its original ebony shade, allowing only a few dramatic traces of silver to show. Her full, womanly figure was still amazingly firm and her fine bone structure ensured that her look of exotic sophistication would hold up beautifully until she was a hundred.
Jessie had frequently wondered about the similarities between Lilian and Constance. They were so much alike, not only in their physical appearance but also in the way they thought and acted. Connie, rather than Glenna, could have been Lilian's sister. Both women found her observation amusing.
“What did you expect?” Lilian had once said to Jessie. “Men are creatures of habit. They're attracted to the same sort of woman over and over again. Second wives often resemble first wives, and they often have a lot in common.”
Jessie watched her mother try on the spectator pumps again. “Hatch insists on going up to the island with me.”
“That's reassuring. When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. I called the phone number on the invitation card this morning. The person who answered was very helpful. Sounded very professional. We take a ferry to one of the nearby islands. The DEL people will pick us up in a seaplane and fly us to New Dawn Island.”
“New Dawn Island?”
“That's what they call it,” Jessie said. “Apparently they own it, so I guess they can call it anything they want.”
“Sounds completely screwy to me.” Lilian shook her head over a pair of red heels the saleswoman was offering.
“We'll be given a tour that lasts a couple of hours and then flown back to the island where we spent the night. That's all there is to it.” Jessie shook her head regretfully. “I'm not sure how much I can possibly learn about Susan Attwood's fate or the leader of this DEL thing in just a couple of hours. But at least it's a starting point.”
“Well, I suppose there's really nothing to worry about. Hatch should be able to take care of anything that comes up. He's a very competent sort of man, isn't he?”
“Uh, yes. In some ways.”
Lilian gave her a sly smile. “I get the impression the big romance is heating up rapidly. Connie says she thinks you and Hatch are already sleeping together.”
“That's what I like about this family. Absolutely no privacy.”
Lilian chuckled. “You know as well as I do that we're all hoping you and Hatch will work it out.”
“I'm not so sure Aunt Glenna feels that way.”
“Nonsense. Glenna knows that a marriage between you and Hatch would be the best thing for all concerned. It's the only viable solution to the situation.”
Jessie gazed broodingly at the pair of Italian leather sandals her mother had on at that moment. “Doesn't it strike you that it's a bit strange that Hatch is thirty-seven years old and still single?”
Lilian flashed her a look of genuine surprise. “Didn't anyone tell you he was married once?”
Jessie stared at her, dumbfounded. “No. No one mentioned that little fact.” Least of all, Hatch. “Divorced?”
“Widowed, I think. Connie told me about it. She said Vince mentioned it in passing a few days ago.”
“Widowed. I see.” Jessie absorbed that bit of information slowly, examining it from every angle. “I wonder why Hatch never told me about his first wife.”
“I gather she died several years ago. Don't fret about it, Jessie. I'm sure he'll tell you all about his first marriage in his own good time.”
Jessie rested her elbows on the arms of the chair and laced her fingers together. She stared sightlessly at a display of glittery evening shoes and contemplated the many similarities she had often observed between Constance and Lilian.
Men are creatures of habit. Second wives often resemble first wives.
Jessie felt a small chill go down her spine. “I hope I don't look like her,” she whispered, not realizing she had spoken aloud.
Her mother gave her a sharp glance. “What are you talking about?”
“Hatch's first wife. I hope I don't resemble her. I wouldn't want to be a stand-in for a ghost.”
Lilian frowned. “For heaven's sake, Jessie. There's no need to get carried away with the dramatics of the situation.”
“Right. This is business, isn't it?”
“You know, I'm amazed you got Hatch to agree to take a couple of days off just to go up to the San Juans with you,” Lilian said in an obvious attempt to redirect the conversation.
Jessie stared gloomily at the evening shoes. “No big deal when you think about it. Like I said, it's business.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mrs. Valentine, ensconced in an old-fashioned rocking chair in the living room of her sister's Victorian-style house on Monday afternoon was looking appreciably improved. But her expression of welcome turned to one of dismay as Jessie concluded her report.
“You're going to go up there? To the headquarters of these DEL people? Oh, dear, Jessie, I don't think that's a g
ood idea at all. Not at all.”
“Don't worry,” Jessie said soothingly. “I won't be alone. Hatch will be with me. And we're just going to look the place over. We're not going to try to rescue Susan Attwood or anything. Remember, we're only trying to find some evidence that Bright is a phony.”
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Valentine said again. Her fingers toyed nervously with a deck of tarot cards in her lap. “Have you told Mrs. Attwood?”
“Of course.” Jessie recalled the conversation with Martha Attwood that had taken place earlier. Mrs. Attwood had been very excited that something concrete was finally going to happen. “She's very anxious for a report. Her main concern is to find out if her daughter is on the island. I'm not sure we'll be able to do that, but we might get lucky. Hatch and I are just going to play it by ear.”
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Valentine's gaze sharpened abruptly and her hand stilled on the cards. “Jessie, I'm getting a feeling about this situation. A real feeling. Do you understand?”
“A psychic sort of feeling? Mrs. V, that's wonderful. Maybe you're getting back some of your natural ability.”
Mrs. Valentine shook her head in frustration. “It's not that clear. Not like these things were before I fell down the stairs. But I think there's something dangerous in all this. I can sense that much. Jessie, I do not like this. Not one bit. I think it would be better if you don't go to the island.”
“But, Mrs. Valentine, all I'm going to do is get a look at what's going on up there at the DEL headquarters. And I've already promised Mrs. Attwood I'll go.”
Mrs. Valentine sighed heavily. “Then promise me one thing.”
“Of course, Mrs. V. What is it?”
“That you will not do anything rash. Promise me you will stay with Sam Hatchard at all times. He does not strike me as a rash or reckless man. I think we can rely on his good sense.” But Mrs. Valentine did not appear completely certain of that analysis.
Jessie's Aunt Glenna phoned to put in her two cents' worth on Monday evening.
“Lilian tells me you've tracked down this DEL outfit and you're going up to take a look at the headquarters tomorrow,” Glenna Ringstead said in a disapproving tone. “Do you really think that's a good idea, Jessie?”
“I'm not going alone, Hatch will be with me.” Jessie was learning that using Hatch's name was rather like waving a talisman in front of all the people who had serious doubts about the expedition to the island. They all seemed to calm down a little when they found out he was going to be going along.
“I see.” There was a distinct pause on the other end of the line. “I assume that the relationship between you and Hatch has taken a more serious turn, then?”
“Uh-huh.” Jessie did not know what else to add. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was already after seven. She wondered if Hatch had left the office yet. “But don't get too excited, Aunt Glenna. I admit I'm attracted to the man, but can you honestly see me marrying him? It would never work.”
“No,” Glenna said quietly. “It wouldn't. As much as everyone would like to have you marry Sam Hatchard, I have to admit it would probably be a disaster for you, emotionally.”
Jessie clamped her fingers more tightly around the phone and swallowed heavily. It occurred to her that her aunt's response was not what she had wanted to hear. Had she actually been hoping Aunt Glenna would, like everyone else, blindly reassure her that things could work between herself and Hatch? “Well, I've got to pack. I'll talk to you when I get back, Aunt Glenna. And thanks for recommending all those books on cults. I've learned a lot.”
“You're welcome.”
The roar of the seaplane's prop engines made conversation virtually impossible. Jessie peered out the window as the pilot eased the craft down into the cove and taxied toward the floating dock. The headquarters of the Dawn's Early Light Foundation did not look at all like the sort of facility she had been expecting to house a group of strong-minded environmentalists.
The pilot, a young man in his early twenties dressed in a spiffy blue-and-white uniform and wearing an engaging grin, chuckled as he shut down the engines. “Not quite what you anticipated, I'll bet. Most visitors are surprised. I guess they expect us to be living in caves and munching on roots and berries.”
“Well, I certainly didn't expect anything as plush as this,” Jessie admitted, surveying the magnificent old mansion that overlooked the cove. “Did you, Hatch?”
Hatch shrugged as he opened the cabin door and stepped out onto the gently bobbing dock. “Who knew what we'd find up here? Bunch of weirdos running around trying to save the world.”
Jessie smiled apologetically at the pilot. “Don't pay any attention to him. He's a confirmed skeptic. I'm afraid I'm guilty of more or less dragging him up here today.”
“Sure. I understand. A lot of the people I fly in here are skeptical at first. Your guides are on their way. Enjoy your tour.” The pilot smiled his charming smile again. He stood with his booted feet braced slightly against the motion of the dock, the breeze ruffling his sandy hair.
He looked extremely dashing in his crisp uniform, Jessie thought. He certainly had the build for it. Jessie eyed the broad shoulders and chest and wondered if he lifted weights as a hobby. With his breezy, all-American good looks and smile, he could have been any corporate pilot working for any private business anywhere. The name engraved on his name tag was Hoffman.
“When does this famous tour begin?” Hatch demanded, glancing at his watch. “Haven't got all day, you know.”
Jessie winced in embarrassment and shot another apologetic glance at Hoffman. “Please, dear,” she murmured, doing her best to sound like a placating wife, “don't be so impatient. It's a lovely day and I'm sure we're going to enjoy the visit.”
“Enjoy myself? Don't be an idiot. If I wanted to enjoy myself, I'd have gone fishing. I wouldn't have agreed to waste my time up here.”
“Yes, dear.” Jessie hid a quick smile. Hatch was putting on an act, of course. But he was awfully good at it and she suspected he was well and truly into the role. Probably because he really did think this jaunt was a waste of time and effort.
It had been Hatch's idea to adopt the facade of a married couple. “It'll be sort of like playing good-cop/bad-cop,” he'd explained on the drive up from Seattle. “You'll be the gullible, easily influenced, weak-brained little wifey who buys into the whole save-the-world scene.”
“Thanks. What part do you get to play?”
“I will be the cynical, jaded, tough-minded husband who has to be convinced.”
“You don't think it'll work if we reverse the roles?” Jessie suggested dryly. “I could play the cynical, jaded, tough-minded wife and you could play the gullible, easily influenced, weak-brained husband.”
“Are you kidding? You're a natural for your part, already. You're the one who can't say no to anyone, remember? If it hadn't been for me, you'd probably own a couple of hundred shares of a company that makes fat-free cooking oil by now.”
“You know something, Hatch? If that company's stock goes up in the next six months, I'm going to hold you personally responsible for reimbursing me for whatever profits I don't make.”
He'd smiled faintly. “What happens if the stock goes down?”
“Why, then, I'll be forever grateful, of course.”
“I could live with that.”
The trip had gone smoothly until this point, Jessie reflected as she watched two figures come down the path toward the cove. It had been almost like setting out on a mini-vacation with Hatch. She'd felt a flash of pure sensual anticipation as she'd watched him load their overnight bags into the trunk of his Mercedes. She was going off to spend a night with her lover.
She was having an affair.
“Affair” was the only word she could come up with to describe Hatch's role in her life at the moment. She refused to call their relationship an “engagement” as Hatch insisted on doing and she could not bear to think of it as a one-night stand. That left “affair.”
&n
bsp; “I'll introduce you to your guides,” Hoffman, the pilot, said cheerfully as a man and woman from the mansion stepped onto the bobbing dock. “This is Rick Landis and Sherry Smith. Rick, Sherry, meet Mr. and Mrs. Hatchard.”
Jessie nodded politely. “How do you do? We really appreciate your taking the time to tour us around your facility.”
“Glad you could make it,” Rick Landis said, smiling respectfully at Hatch. He had the same sort of open, easy charm the pilot displayed. His dark hair was trimmed in a short, clean-cut style and he was wearing the same blue slacks and military-style white shirt that comprised the pilot's uniform. He looked to be about the same age as Hoffman, somewhere in his mid-twenties, perhaps. And he appeared to be in the same excellent physical shape.
“Didn't have much choice,” Hatch muttered, fleshing out his disgruntled-husband role nicely. “Wife insisted on this little jaunt. Had my way, we'd have gone to Orcas for a couple of days instead.”
“Oh, I think you'll find our little island is even more lovely than Orcas Island,” Sherry Smith said earnestly. A young woman, no more than nineteen or twenty at the most, she seemed much more intense than either Hoffman or Landis. She was also quite attractive, Jessie could not help but notice. Her hair was long and honey-colored and the blue-and-white outfit she was wearing showed off her narrow waist and flaring hips.
“It's certainly beautiful here,” Jessie gushed, as if anxious to make up for her surly husband. She made a show of surveying the scenery, which consisted of the cove, a rocky beach, and the old mansion. A thick forest of green, mostly pine and fir, rose up behind the great house. “Just lovely.” She batted her lashes at Hatch. “Isn't it, dear?”
Hatch slanted her a wry glance. “It's okay. Can we get on with this four-hundred-dollar tour? I'd like to get back to our inn in time for dinner.”
“By all means,” Landis said. “I'm sure that after the tour you'll feel the four-hundred-dollar donation to the DEL Foundation has gone to a terrific cause. Follow us, please.” He turned and led the way back up the path toward the mansion.