Envy(121)

“When you called this afternoon. I came downstairs just as he was hanging up.”

She opened her mouth but closed it without saying anything. Noah had lied to him. Apparently Daniel had caught the tail end of a telephone conversation, and Noah had pretended it was she. Damn him!

“Maybe he did mention it and I forgot.”

“Not surprising,” he said, seeming to have missed the anger in her voice. “You’ve got a lot on your mind. How’s the book coming?”

“Great, actually. The story is really percolating now. It’s amazing to watch how the writer’s mind works. I’ve never been this involved with the creative process, and it’s fascinating.”

“I can tell that you’re enjoying it.”

“Immensely.”

“And the author? Still the curmudgeon?”

“Either he’s mellowing or I’m becoming accustomed to him. I don’t know which.”

“Probably a little of both.”

“Probably.”

Maris sensed him hesitating. Then he said, “I’m glad you heeded your instincts and went back to work with him.”

“So am I, Dad. It was the right decision. I’m positive of that.”

“You’re happy there? With the work? With everything?”

“Yes. Very,” she said quietly.

“Good. You deserve to be, Maris.”

To anyone listening, the conversation sounded innocent enough. But given the one they’d had directly before her departure from New York, she knew that her father was conveying more than he was saying.

He knew she’d been unhappy with Noah and their marriage. It wouldn’t surprise her if he knew about Noah’s infidelity. Daniel Matherly was known for his ability to ferret out secrets. During her last visit with him, she had hardly kept secret her feelings for Parker. Without naming him, she had talked about him nonstop with the uncontainable excitement of someone falling in love.

This roundabout conversation was her dad’s way of letting her know that he sanctioned it.

She swallowed a knot of emotion. “I needed to hear your voice, Dad.”

“It’s good to hear yours, too.”

“I’m sorry I disturbed you so late.”

“You could never disturb me, but in any case, I wasn’t asleep.”

“I’ll call you again tomorrow. No, wait.”

Considering the lies Noah had told today, the thought of him being with her father like the faithful son-in-law for the remainder of the weekend turned her stomach. He probably had in mind to get chummy, to get on Daniel’s good side. Maybe he planned to make a tearful confession and plead his case with Daniel before Maris told him about their separation.

Not if she could help it.

“Dad, I’d like to send Maxine up there tomorrow. She’s been dying to go to the country and see the summer flowers in bloom. Would you mind?”

“Flowers…” He harrumphed skeptically, letting her know the excuse was transparent. “I’ve had only one day’s peace away from her. But,” he sighed, “if it would make you feel better…”

“It would make me feel better. I’ll call her first thing in the morning.” It relieved her to know that Maxine would drop everything and go at a moment’s notice. She could be there well before noon. “Call me when she arrives, so I’ll know she made the drive safely.”

“All right, sweetheart. I’ll call you tomorrow. And Maris?”

“Yes.”

“Make the most of your time there. Don’t deny yourself the happiness being there gives you. Don’t worry about anything. Are you listening to your old dad? Everything is going to work out well. Will you trust me on that, sweetheart?”

“I always have.” She leaned her cheek into the small telephone, wishing it were his spotted, wrinkled hand. “Good night, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


* * *


Parker’s bed was a monstrosity. It was narrow by king-sized standards, but what it lacked in width, it made up for in height. The headboard was tall and carved, the wood aged to a saddle-brown patina that reflected the glow from his reading lamp on the nightstand.

The bed was standing on an area rug that looked like an authentic Aubusson. The overhead fan was like those Maris had seen before only in movies. A brass pole was suspended horizontally six feet below the tall ceiling. At each end of the pole was an axle that idly turned a set of papyrus blades.

There were no draperies on the three tall windows, only louvered shutters, which were painted white to tastefully contrast with the caramel-colored walls and dark hardwood floor. One wall accommodated a massive chifforobe that was crowned with carvings that matched those on the apex of the headboard. Apparently it held all his clothing because there was no closet built into the room.

The TV and VCR, housed in a cabinet on the wall opposite the bed, were the room’s only nods toward modernity—other than the wheelchair parked in front of the nightstand. There was no other apparatus one would assume to find in the bedroom of a disabled person, but she wasn’t too surprised. She’d seen him lift himself into and out of the Gator.

Parker was bare-chested, propped against the headboard reading, when Maris slipped through the door. He slowly lowered the book to his lap. “Hello. Are you lost?”