Breath of Scandal(113)

Cathy said nothing for a moment, then lifted imploring eyes to Jade. "Tell Graham what happened to you. if these men are as villainous as you say, they,u fight back. They



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could try and get to you through him. Tell him, Jade, before someone else does."

She recognized the wisdom in what Cathy was telling her, but she could also recall Velta laying the responsibility of her father's suicide on her. If she told Graham about the rape, he might wrongly assume the blame for his conception. She refused to burden him with a guilt that would last a lifetime. "No, Cathy. He must never know."

The question of whether Graham had permission to bicycle to and from the construction site was temporarily shelved when Dillon went out of town to interview several concrete contractors.

"He asked me to make sure that Loner had food and water while he was gone," she told Graham that evening when she returned home. "There's no point in you even asking to ride your bike out there. We'll discuss it again when Mr. Burke comes back."

Graham was crestfallen. "When will that be, a hundred years?'I

"Two weeks, he said."

"A hundred years," he mouthed as he walked away dejectedly.

He wasn't pleased by the turn of events, but secretly Jade was. Cathy's caution couldn't be dismissed lightly. She had been so single-minded about her plans that she had failed to consider the kind of countermoves the Patchetts, and Hutch might make. Since the town meeting, they had kept a low profile. That alone was suspicious. No doubt they were up to something. Until she knew what it was, she couldn't relax her guard for a moment. She didn't want Graham roaming freely about town.

Despite Dillon's absence, work at the site continued. He had appointed the excavator as temporary overseer. Because Dillon's standards were so high, Jade trusted the man to do the job correctly, but she felt safer and more confident when Dillon was within reach.

The site had almost become a tourist spot, drawing cu-

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rious onlookers by the hundreds. Rarely a day passed when Jade didn't grant an interview to a media reporter. Lola Garrison, a freelance features reporter from Charleston, spent almost an entire day with her. She was writing an article about the TexTile plant for the Sunday supplement, which was circulated by several major newspapers throughout -the South.

Spring was gradually becoming summer. The daysgrew longer. One evening Jade decided to work overtime after the excavation crews had turned off their machinery and left for the day - She became so involved in what she was doing that she lost track of time and wasn't roused until Loner began to bark outside.

A little trill Of gladness shirnmied up through her midsection. Dillon was back, she thought. But the tread on the steps outside wasn't heavy enough, and Loner wasn't barking his glad bark of welcome. The door to the trailer swung open. "Hello, Jade."

"Donna Dee!" She was at once shocked to see her old friend and relieved that her visitor wasn't someone menacing.

Loner was still on the threshold, barking furiously. "Down, boy," Jade told him. She rounded the desk and crossed the room to close the door. Turning, she faced Donna Dee.

"You look good, Jade." Her smile was tinged with bitterness and envy. "But then you always did."

"Thank you."

"Don't worry. I don't expect you to return the compliment. You'd be lying."

That left Jade with nothing to say. The years hadn't been kind to Donna Dee, who had never been pretty in any case. Her appeal had always lain in her animated personality. But today she didn't even have that. Her wry sense of humor had turned to rancor.

"Why did you come to see me, Donna Dee?" "Can I sit down?"

Jade nodded toward a chair, then returned to her desk. Donna Dee sat down, primly tugging the hem of her skirt



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over her knees, revealing her nervousness. There wasn't a modest bone in Donna Dee's body. She didn't care whether her knees were covered. Something else was causing her jitters. Perhaps guilt.

"I went to your house," she said. "They said you were working late."

"They?" "The older woman and the boy . . . Graham9"Yes, Graham."

Donna Dee glanced away. Jade noted that she was clutching the strap of her handbag with both hands, as though fearing a purse snatcher. "I, uh, I didn't know you had a son until a few days ago."

"He's been in New York, finishing his school term. How did you hear about him?"

"You know how gossip travels around here." "Yes, I do. All too well."

Donna Dee ducked her head and hooked a strand of hair behind her ear. "He's a good-looking boy, Jade." "Thank you."

"He looks like you." "And my father."

"Yeah, I remember the pictures you had of him." Her fingers worked along the stitching in the leather strap of her handbag. "How old is . . . is Graham?"

"Fourteen. "

The two women stared at each other across the room, across the years of bitterness. Donna Dee broke the strained silence. "You're going to make me ask, aren't you?" "Ask what?"