At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories)(43)

Nothing short of Mona's death had ever hit him harder. Not even his third heart attack, the one that had almost killed him, caused the gut-deep pain this news did.

He was, at heart, a moral man. He had lived his life by a strict moral code. He believed in the God of his parents and their parents, a just God who set standards that were meant to be upheld.

He was known as a good man. That was what they called him. A good man. He paid his employees handsomely for their hard work. He was there to listen to their problems. When you worked for Simon Chase, you knew you had a job for life. Do your job well, keep your nose clean, and you would never need to look elsewhere for employment. He rewarded loyalty in kind.

He was wealthy and well-respected. He had a fine wife, a beautiful home, friends to listen to his stories.

One small slip, one tiny fall from grace and it had almost come tumbling down.

It had taken him years to rebuild his marriage. Even now, so long after the fall, he sometimes caught Ruth when she didn't know he was looking and he saw in her eyes all that he had done.

The saddest thing of all was that he would do it again in a heartbeat for the chance to spend his life with Mona Webb Taylor. The madness was never far from the surface, simmering in his blood despite the years, despite her death. That madness was his punishment.

He greeted his son with icy calm that hid the emotion inside. "You're not to see her again," he said as he passed Noah the carafe of orange juice.

Noah's skin reddened. "See who?" he mumbled through a mouthful of toasted English muffin.

"The Taylor girl. She is off-limits to you."

"Who said I'm seeing Gracie Taylor?"

Too quick, my boy, thought Simon. Too defensive. If he had had any doubts about the veracity of the rumor, they were dispelled by Noah's response. The knife inside his heart twisted a little deeper. "We're not here to debate the issue, son. I am telling you that you are to stay away from Gracie Taylor. It's over."

Noah's embarrassment turned to anger. "I love her," he said.

Simon was impressed with his passion. It surprised him that Gracie Taylor inspired that degree of heat. She was more Mona's daughter than he had suspected. He also admired Noah's honesty. He had expected neither passion nor honesty. He most certainly hadn't expected a declaration of love but there it was, the monster in the closet.

"There's no way in hell I'm staying away from her."

"That isn't what I was hoping to hear."

"Stay out of my life," Noah warned. "I'm not a kid any more. You can't control me."

"As long as you live under my roof and accept my money, you'll do as I say."

"You can shove your money for all I care."

Simon spread a thin layer of margarine on his toast. "So easy to say. So difficult to do."

"Watch me," Noah said. "You'll choke on those words."

Perhaps, thought Simon as his son stormed from the room, but it would be a small price to pay if it got Gracie Taylor out of their lives for good. Noah would come around. Life was long and the choices were many. Very few young men fell irrevocably in love before they reached their majority. It had happened that way for Simon but he hadn't known how to handle the gift and let it slip through his fingers. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late for them all.

I understand more than you know, son. I know how it feels when your heart doesn't start beating each day until you see her face or hear her voice. I know how it feels when she's taken away from you and your world goes black...

He would do anything for his son, move heaven and earth to give him only the best the world had to offer. He would sacrifice his remaining years on earth to see to it that Noah's happiness was ensured. He would even bear his son's wrath if that was what was necessary.

But there was one thing he wouldn't do, not even for his boy.

He would never allow Gracie Taylor to become part of his family.





Chapter Eight





"We're so sorry, dear." Mary Townsend clasped Gracie to her pillowy bosoms and hugged her tight. "Cordelia was the finest churchwoman I've ever known."

Gracie tried to pull away but Mrs. Townsend's grip was one of iron. "Thank you," she murmured over the top of the woman's helmet of dyed red hair. "Gramma appreciated all you did for her over the last few years."

"It was the least we could do," Mrs. Townsend said, releasing Gracie from her grasp. "Cordelia was always the first one to pitch in when others needed help."