Perfect Partners

  Copeland stared at Philip for an instant. Then he hurled the lamp down onto the carpet in a gesture of frustrated fury.

  He stormed out of the office without another word.

  Joel watched him go, and then he turned to Philip. “Nice timing, Dixon.”

  “Copeland appeared rather upset.”

  “Yeah, he did, didn't he?” Joel looked at Mrs. Sedgewick, who was hovering uncertainly in the doorway. “Call Escott at his hotel. Tell him I want to talk to him immediately. And then get someone in here to clean up this mess.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mrs. Sedgewick, looking unusually subdued, vanished.

  Philip cleared his throat to get attention. “I stopped by to talk to you about the details of the Copeland Marine liquidation. As it happens, I have a few thoughts on the matter.”

  Joel planted his hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Dixon, I am not in a good mood. The last thing I want to do right now is listen to you pontificate about my business. Get the hell out of here. Now.”

  Something in Joel's icy tone must have finally penetrated Philip's pompous arrogance. He drew himself up with an affronted expression. “Well, if you feel that way about it, I'll come back later.”

  “Don't bother.”

  Philip did not deign to respond to that. He took himself off and politely closed the door behind him. Joel stood at his desk, breathing slowly and deeply for a couple of minutes before he sat down.

  It was done. After all these years, it was finally done.

  Joel still could not identify what he was feeling. There should have been a sense of release. A sensation of triumph. Something powerful.

  But all he seemed to be able to think about now was the more practical matter of the safety of the Copeland Marine yard. Victor Copeland had looked dangerous.

  Mrs. Sedgewick buzzed the intercom. “Mr. Escott on line two.”

  Joel grabbed the phone. “Escott?”

  “What's up? Something wrong?”

  “Copeland was just here. I gave him the news.”

  “How did he take it?” Keith asked tensely.

  “He's mad as hell, and he's looking for trouble.”

  “That figures. Any idea what he might do?”

  “My chief concern is that he'll decide if he can't have Copeland Marine, nobody else can have it, either,” Joel said. He stared unseeingly out the window, trying to think of all the possibilities and how to cover them.

  “You think he might try to torch the yard or something?” Keith asked.

  “I don't know. I don't think so, because in his mind, Copeland Marine is his and it will always be his. He would be destroying his own creation. But I've seen Copeland like this once before. He's unpredictable until he calms down.”

  “I know what you mean. I've seen him in a rage once or twice. He went after one of his employees once. Took three of us to pull him off. It takes him a while to come out of it.”

  “I know. All right, Escott, as of right now you are one hundred percent responsible for the Copeland Marine facilities.”

  “I understand,” Keith said coolly. “Guess I'd better get my ass down to Echo Cove and make sure Copeland doesn't take the place apart.”

  “Yeah, you'd better do that.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck, thinking quickly. “And I think you'd better organize a twenty-four-hour security guard on the yard for a while. No point in taking any chances.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I'll take care of it.”

  “I'll have my secretary give you the name of a security agency here in Seattle. I used them a couple of times when I was having some loading-dock theft problems. Contact them immediately and get as many men as you'll need to guard the Copeland yard.”

  “Got it. Listen, Blackstone…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I'm leaving Diana here at the hotel,” Keith said quietly. “Her father doesn't know where she is. I didn't tell anyone where we're staying. I don't want her anywhere near Echo Cove until things have cooled down. And I don't want her to know all the details of what's going on right now. She'll panic.”

  “She's your wife, Escott. Tell her whatever you want to tell her. Just make sure Copeland doesn't torch that yard.”

  “I'm on my way.” Beneath the cool, efficient tone, Keith's voice was filled with exultant determination. “Hey, Blackstone?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks. You won't regret this.”

  “Make sure I don't.”

  Joel hung up the phone, aware that in Keith's mind Copeland Marine already belonged to him.

  Joel drummed his fingers rapidly on the desk. Things could get nasty, as he had warned Letty last night. But he had known that was a possibility from the beginning. Victor Copeland was not going to surrender control of Copeland Marine and all that went with it very easily.

  Joel had taken that reality into account when he was planning to liquidate the firm. But he had always assumed that if Copeland lost control and went for someone's throat, it would be his.

  Now there were other forces involved. Maybe too many other forces. Too many other people.

  Joel's restlessness grew. He usually felt this way only in the middle of the night when he was unable to sleep.

  He thought about changing into his sweats and going for a run along the waterfront. Then he realized that what he really needed was to talk to Letty.

  Letty had a way of helping him see things more clearly at times. She would understand the new elements in the equation, the emotional and human elements that he sometimes misunderstood or simply ignored.

  Joel leaned forward and punched his intercom button. “Mrs. Sedgewick, put me through to Ms. Thornquist's office.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A moment later Bigley came on the line, his voice infused with new self-confidence and an awesome aura of competence.

  “This is Ms. Thornquist's executive assistant, sir. I regret to inform you that Ms. Thornquist is unavailable. She has just left for lunch with Professor Dixon.”

  17

  Now, then, Letty, I've already contacted Dr. Sweetley and told her the nature of your problems. We've made an appointment for you on Monday afternoon. I think you'll like her. She seems quite competent.” Philip surveyed the grilled salmon the waiter had placed in front of him. “We were lucky she could work you into her schedule so quickly.”

  Letty ignored her pan-fried oysters and fries. She rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin on the back of her laced fingers. “Philip, you really are something else, you know that? Absolutely incredible.”

  He smiled. “Thank you, my dear. It's good to hear you sounding more like yourself. Although I do understand why you've been avoiding me lately.”

  “You do?”

  “Certainly. When I discussed your attitude with Dr. Sweetley, she explained that you were naturally somewhat ambivalent about a return to the status quo of our relationship.”

  Letty shook her head. “‘Ambivalent’ is a rather ambivalent term for what I feel. I can give you a much more precise description, if you like.”

  “No need.” Philip dissected his salmon with a knife and fork, searching cautiously for bones. “According to Dr. Sweetley you suffered from low-self esteem during our relationship due to your inability to experience orgasm.”

  “For heaven's sake, Philip. Not so loud.” Letty felt herself growing hot with embarrassment and irritation. She glanced around quickly to make certain Philip had not been overheard.

  She had agreed to have lunch with him on the spur of the moment. He had walked into her office claiming that they really needed to talk. Letty had decided it was time to try to make him understand that she had absolutely no intention of ever renewing the engagement.

  She also had to evict Philip from Thornquist Gear in a peaceable manner before Joel lost his patience entirely. Letty was afraid the little scene she had witnessed at the elevators yesterday was only the beginning. There was no telling what Joel would do the next time Ph
ilip annoyed him.

  Philip was sparing no expense on lunch, Letty acknowledged. The restaurant, stylishly decorated in Art Deco tones of pink and green with accents of black, was located near the Pike Place Market. It was packed with tourists and local business people who were “doing lunch.” Letty wondered how Philip had discovered the place. Perhaps Dr. Sweetley had recommended it.

  “Dr. Sweetley has also suggested that you are no doubt experiencing some generalized anxiety about our relationship and that you are in a state of denial regarding your inability to fully satisfy your sexual partner.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes. She says you are probably projecting, and it is also very likely that you are practicing some form of sublimation. Personally, I suspect running Thornquist Gear has become a substitute for sex for you.”

  “Philip, what would you say if I told you that I don't have to substitute anything for sex? That I'm getting plenty of the real thing?”

  Philip gave her a concerned look. “Dr. Sweetley explained that you might insist that you were happy in a new relationship. Trying to convince me that you are sexually involved with another man is a way of venting your hostility, as I'm sure you're well aware. It's all right, my dear. There is no need to invent another relationship.”

  Letty gritted her teeth. “Let's try this again from the top, Philip. I will spell this out for you in short, easily understood sentences. Our engagement is over. I have no desire to start it up again. I do not want to marry you. I do not want your help managing Thornquist Gear. I have a CEO to help me do that. Furthermore—”

  Philip held up a hand. “That brings up an interesting point.” He frowned thoughtfully as he put down his fork. “We really must arrange to terminate Blackstone immediately. I told you I do not care for the way he is handling this takeover and liquidation of Copeland Marine.”

  “Joel stays,” Letty said.

  “I really don't think we can allow that. I must tell you, Letty, that I have come to the conclusion that Blackstone wields too much influence over you.”

  With that, Letty lost her temper entirely. There was no point in trying to talk to Philip. She got to her feet and leaned forward, hands flat on the table. “I said he stays. He works for me. I own Thornquist Gear. He stays.”

  Philip's expression turned to one of reproach. “I can see that the stress you've been under lately has taken its toll. It's a good thing I scheduled that appointment with Dr. Sweetley for you.”

  Letty stared at him. “You haven't heard a single thing I've said, have you? You've never heard a word I said unless it agreed with something you said. At least Joel talks to me. Even when he's mad at me, he hears what I'm saying. I cannot believe I was ever stupid enough to get engaged to you.”

  Philip began to look alarmed. “Letty, you must get control of yourself, my dear.”

  “I am in complete control of myself.” Letty glanced down at her plate of pan-fried oysters and fries. She scooped it up and dumped the contents over Philip's head before he realized her intention.

  “Letty, have you lost your mind?” Philip brushed frantically at the french fries and oysters that were cascading down his face onto his gray-vested suit. He shot to his feet, grabbing up a napkin and using it to brush at the grease that was soaking into his jacket.

  “I have only one other thing to say to you, Philip Dixon. Thank God for Gloria the grad student and her scarlet-tinted lips. If it hadn't been for her, it might have taken me a lot longer to realize what an insufferable ass you are.”

  Letty snatched up her purse, whirled and strode toward the door.

  She collided with Joel, who had just walked into the restaurant. His arms went around her, steadying her.

  “Something wrong with your lunch?” he inquired politely. “Or is that the way people eat their oysters back in Illinois?”

  “Indiana,” Letty muttered, her face buried against his chest. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came looking for you, Madam President. In case you aren't aware of it, we've got a slight management crisis on our hands back at the office. You ready to leave?”

  “Yes,” she hissed, raising her head. She did not look back to see what was happening at the table. Letty could hear the commotion as waiters bustled to clean up the mess. “Let's get out of here.”

  “Spoken like a true executive.”

  Joel took her arm and steered her out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk. They forged their way through the noontime crowds thronging the red brick—paved street that ran through the heart of the Pike Place Market.

  It was not easy, but Joel navigated with expert precision. They circled the crowd hovering around a fishmonger's stand, evaded two panhandlers and a mime, and managed to get past the long row of busy vegetable stalls.

  Letty was still fuming silently when she realized Joel had come to a halt beside a tiny eatery selling walkaway food through a window that opened directly onto the sidewalk. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting us some lunch. I take it you didn't have a chance to eat much of yours.”

  “No. I'm not hungry anymore.”

  “Nonsense,” Joel said bracingly. “An executive has to keep up her energy.” He looked at the young woman waiting on the other side of the counter. “Two hummus and pita bread sandwiches, please. With cucumber and yogurt sauce.”

  “You got it.” The young woman went to work filling two large, round pitas with the mixture. A moment later she handed the two plump sandwiches wrapped in wax paper through the window to Joel.

  “Here you go. Eat up.” Joel put one of the pitas into Letty's hand.

  “He made an appointment for me,” Letty said tightly. She took a whopping bite out of the sandwich. “Can you imagine?”

  “An appointment for what?”

  “Therapy. To help me work through my sex problems.”

  Joel chewed a mouthful of hummus. His eyes gleamed. “You don't have any sex problems.”

  Letty flushed. “I know. I tried to tell him that. But he didn't hear a word I said. I realize now he never did hear anything I said.”

  “Did you dump your oysters and fries all over him because he had the nerve to make the appointment?”

  “No. I did that because he told me to fire you. He said he felt you were having too much influence on me.”

  “No kidding? Too much influence, huh?”

  “You needn't look so thrilled with yourself.” Letty glowered up at him through her glasses. “I happen to be very upset.”

  “You are? Because you ditched Dixon? I wouldn't let it worry me, if I were you.”

  “No, you wouldn't, would you?” Letty retorted. “But it just so happens that what I am ditching is the only genuine proposal of marriage I've had in recent memory. That isn't something one throws away lightly, you know.”

  Joel nearly choked on a mouthful of sandwich. “Marriage?” He started coughing and sputtering. His eyes watered. “Marriage?” he got out a second time as he gasped for air.

  Letty experienced a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I can see the idea is utterly foreign to you,” she said stiffly. “But back where I come from marriage is still considered the normal and proper method of formalizing a romantic relationship.”

  “Look, honey, I didn't mean the idea seemed weird or anything,” Joel said quickly. He swallowed the remainder of his hummus sandwich in one gulp. “It's just that if you're implying that you and I should start thinking of marriage, you need to understand something up front.”

  “What's that?” she demanded.

  “There's no way in hell I can marry you as long as you own Thornquist Gear.”

  She stopped on the sidewalk, heedless of the tide of people eddying around her. “Why not?”

  “Damn it. Don't you understand? Because everyone, including you, would think I was marrying you to get Thornquist, that's why. I told you that back at the beginning.”

  Letty scowled thoughtfully. “I wouldn't think that.”

/>   “Come off it, Letty. You'd be bound to wonder about it sooner or later.” Joel tossed his sandwich wrapper into a trash can and started striding swiftly along the sidewalk.

  Letty saw the futility of arguing with him. At least he was not telling her he couldn't marry her because he didn't love her, she reassured herself. “Okay, we'll let that slide for now.”

  “Damn right we will. The last time I wanted to marry a woman everyone thought I was after her father's company. I sure as hell am not going to have people saying that about me a second time.”

  “I see.” Diana again, Letty thought sadly. She hurried to catch up with Joel, aware that the hollow feeling in her stomach was filling with ice. So much about Joel had been shaped by what happened to him fifteen years ago, she thought. She wondered how many more stone walls like this one she was fated to run into because of those events.

  They walked in silence down First Avenue, passing an eclectic mix of pawnshops, adult theaters, restaurants, boutiques, and galleries. The sky overhead was a uniform steel gray, but the rain had not yet started to fall. It was cold.

  “Joel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What was the management crisis you mentioned back in the restaurant?” Letty asked finally.

  He threw her a sidelong glance. “I had a visit from Copeland this morning.”

  Letty was startled. “I didn't know he was in the building.”

  “Bigley must be falling down on the job,” Joel remarked coolly.

  “Well? What happened? Did you tell him Keith is in charge now?”

  “I told him.”

  “Joel, what happened?”

  “He flew into a rage. Picked up a lamp and started destroying my office. The day was saved by Professor Dixon, who happened to walk in at the appropriate moment and alter the course of events.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “I then got Escott on the phone, told him what had happened, and he and I both agreed he had better get back to Echo Cove. We're putting a twenty-four-hour security guard on the Copeland Marine yard for a while. There's no telling what Copeland might do before he cools down.”