Envy(118)

Parker refolded the pages and returned them to his shirt pocket. No one spoke for a moment. Maris had been lulled by his words and the cadence with which he’d read them. She shook off the mild daze and gave the swing a gentle push.

“So Todd’s gut instincts were right. Roark’s reviews from Hadley were better than the ones he received.”

Parker nodded. “And Roark was dishonest about it.”

“I don’t think that matters.”

He looked across at her, and the intensity of his stare compelled her to continue the thought.

“Todd wouldn’t have taken it well if Roark had said, ‘You guessed right. Hadley thinks you’re a hack with limited talent, while he believes I have the potential of being the next Steinbeck.’ ”

Mike agreed. “If Roark had told him the truth out there on the beach, Todd would have ended their relationship then and there. Your story would be over. The end.”

Parker grunted a nonresponse.

Reading from the manuscript seemed to have darkened his mood, although Maris couldn’t figure why. The content had obviously captivated her and Mike. The letter had been a clever way to move his story along without relying strictly on narrative. Since she and Mike had approved it, she couldn’t account for his sullenness. “What’s bothering you, Parker?”

“Roark’s supposed to be the good guy, right? He’s the lamb in the goat/lamb comparison.”

“That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.”

“It doesn’t bother you that he deceived his friend?”

“His motivation wasn’t deception. It was kindness. He was trying to spare Todd from what Hadley referred to as the ‘sad truth,’ because he knew it would be devastating. Todd simply wasn’t as talented as Roark. Roark might have sensed from the beginning that Todd lacked—”

She snapped her fingers. “No, he knew it. Didn’t he? Of course he knew that he was better. He had to know it. Or else why did he get a post office box to prevent his mail from coming to their apartment? He was afraid that Todd would intercept one of his glowing critiques from Hadley.”

“Nothing escapes you,” he said, his mood seeming to lift. “Now forget that you know it.”

“Why?”

“Because it becomes crucial in the next chapter or so.”

“The mention of the post office box was a foreshadowing?”

He smiled enigmatically.

“Todd intercepts one of the letters, right?” she guessed. “Maybe even this letter, because this is the one that could be the most damaging to the friendship. It spells out the differences in their talent and their characters. Todd… uh, let’s see, he borrows a pair of jeans or something, maybe without asking Roark, and he finds the letter in a pocket.”

“Thanks. I hadn’t figured out yet how he was going to get his hands on it. That’s pretty good.”

She beamed. “Todd reads this letter. He can’t believe what he’s reading. His secret fear is realized. Roark is superior to him. That’s why he had tried to sabotage Roark with Professor Hadley. It hadn’t worked. Indeed, it backfired. Hadley saw through him. Furthermore, Roark has won Hadley’s praise. A double whammy for Todd. He reacts by… doing what?”

“You tell me.”

She concentrated hard, unconsciously gnawing on a corner of her lip. “I was going to say that he would be crushed, but, on second thought, that would be out of character.” She shook her head. “No, he’s too egotistical to let a university professor destroy his ambition. I think he would be furious. Livid.” She formed claws with her hands and held them at the sides of her head. “Explosively, volcanically enraged.”

“How does he channel that rage, Maris?”

“He confronts Roark with the letter.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Parker,” Mike cut in softly.

“He’s not honest enough to take that approach. He—”

“Parker,” Mike repeated.

“He waits. He—”

“Parker.”

“He—”

“Parker!”

“Goddammit, Mike! What?”

He rounded on the older man, but Mike didn’t flinch from his hard look. In fact, he returned it. The air was electrically charged, as it had been in the kitchen this morning. In both instances, thoughts were telegraphed that Maris couldn’t interpret.

Parker was the first to relent. He closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. “I’m sorry, Mike. Forgive me. I was following a train of thought.”

“It’s okay. I know you hate distractions when you’re on a roll.”

“Dinner was great.”

“So you said.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Well, thanks again.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Mike stood and picked up the silver serving tray that held the empty carafe and coffee cups. “Before the mosquitoes carry me off, I think I’ll go in.”

“Good idea. Good night.”

“Good night, Mike,” Maris echoed.

At the door Mike turned and addressed Parker. “Do you want me to wait up and help—”

“No, no. I’ll be fine tonight. Go to bed.”