Текст книги "Native Affairs"
Автор книги: Doreen Malek Owens
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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 37 страниц)
Jennifer interrupted him. “We’re both dead tired, Joe. I don’t think we should talk about this now.”
He looked mulish. “Not now. But sometime. I mean it, this is not my last word on the subject.”
Yes, it is, Joe, Jennifer thought. I won’t be around to hear any more.
Jennifer stopped on her way out to thank Dawn. “It was kind of you to think of me, to let me see him,” she said to the Indian girl. “Isn’t it wonderful that he came out of it?”
“Just as the sun rose,” Dawn said. “It was the power of his totem.”
“Take care of him,” Jennifer said.
Dawn did not miss the finality of Jennifer’s words. “You will not be back to visit him?”
“No.”
“Shall I tell him anything for you?”
“No.”
Dawn inclined her head, accepting Jennifer’s decision.
Jennifer walked out to her car, buttoning her jacket against the chill of the crisp November morning.
* * * *
Jennifer spent Thanksgiving with her father and his wife, breaking the news of her move to Florida. She said nothing of the coming baby, considering it best to let him absorb the shocks in small doses. He seemed concerned, but apparently regarded the relocation as a career choice, and Jennifer let him think that. He was too busy riding herd on his three teen-age stepchildren to worry about it much anyway.
She had previously contacted a real estate agency that handled rentals in the Tampa area, and the day after Thanksgiving she flew to Florida to look for an apartment. A very patient agent spent a long time with her, and she finally found something close to the Bengals’ office that was in good repair and that she could afford. It was still occupied, but Jennifer was promised it would be vacant by the time she needed it. She flew back to Philadelphia tired but satisfied with her efficiency. She was handling everything very well.
Her last few days with the Freedom were occupied with putting things in order for her departure, and saying goodbye to everyone, especially Dolores, who was proving to be very emotional. After promising hourly that she would write and telephone whenever she could, she heard herself inviting Dolores down over the Christmas holidays. This finally placated her, and she concentrated on helping Jennifer get ready to go.
Lee was still in the hospital. Joe kept her posted on his condition, which was steadily improving, but he wasn’t ready for discharge yet. They were keeping him there for “observation,” whatever that meant, but he was ambulatory and demanding to be released. Jennifer said nothing to Joe of her impending move; she would be gone before he realized it, as he was still playing and busy with the team.
Jennifer decided to take her car with her and drive down, rather than sell it and buy another when she got there. Marilyn helped her load it with a few final things after the movers had left, and she and Mrs. Mason took turns crying and warning her about the hazards of a woman traveling such a distance alone.
Jennifer was worn out by the time she finally got on the road. She had planned what stops she would make and telephoned ahead for reservations, but Marilyn and Mrs. Mason had convinced her that disaster awaited at every turn. Twin Cassandras, prophesying doom, they had set the tone for the trip, and Jennifer couldn’t shake off the feeling that they knew something she didn’t. She pulled onto the interstate with a heavy heart.
* * * *
The move to Florida was a nightmare from start to finish. Jennifer promised herself that when, or if, she recovered from it she was going to set her two friends up in the fortune-telling business. They would all make a mint.
Her car broke down in Georgia in some tiny hamlet with one service station, and it took her two days to get it fixed. She spent her time reading magazines purchased at the general store. They were several months out of date and on subjects that did not fascinate. When she started on Popular Mechanics for the second time, she knew she was in trouble. To make matters worse, she hadn’t been able to reach the Holiday Inn where she had reserved a room and so she had to stay at a dilapidated “rooming house” inhabited by a bunch of escapees from the Li’l Abner comic strip. They overcharged her shamelessly at the service station, but she paid the price gladly in order to get going once more.
She thought she had it made when she hit Florida, but discovered that she was wrong again. She got lost. She hadn’t realized before that everything in central Florida looks like everything else in central Florida. Nothing but citrus groves and trailer parks for endless miles on either side of a straight ribbon of sandy, dusty road. When she at last got directions she could understand from a state trooper, she had wasted almost a day wandering aimlessly among the orange trees.
She drove into Tampa at night, and its lights and beautiful bay looked like the Promised Land to her. But not for long. When she called the real estate agency in the morning, she was told that her apartment was not empty yet—there had been a slight delay. And as there was no place for the movers to put her furniture, it went into storage in the company’s warehouse in Spring Hill, an hour’s drive away. And, oh yes, there would be a slight storage charge.
A few days before she was to start her new job, Jennifer found herself at a coffee shop making a mental list of everybody she was going to sue and abusing Lee Youngson and his descendants for three generations, one of whom she was carrying in her belly. The restaurant was filled with itinerant truck drivers and farm workers who called to each other in indecipherable Southern accents and wiped faces perspiring from the seventy-five-degree weather and eighty percent humidity. Jennifer felt that she had been transported to another country, so foreign did the environment seem. And when the waitress yodeled after her, “Y’all come back now, heah?” her throat tightened with unshed tears. My God, she even missed Joe Thornridge.
She took possession of her apartment that afternoon and got the moving company to deliver her things. She collapsed that night and slept on the floor, using a tablecloth for a blanket.
* * * *
The next morning, she read in the Tampa newspaper that Lee had been discharged from the hospital.
Chapter 10
Jennifer was in the middle of stacking books on the bottom shelf of a wicker étagère when the doorbell rang. Sighing, she dusted her palms on her jeans and got off her knees, swiping ineffectually at the wisps of hair that fell around her face. After a full day of unpacking, she was really in no condition to greet anyone. But it was probably just another of her new neighbors stopping by with a cake. Two were already sitting on the kitchen table. Marveling at the miracle of Southern hospitality, she pulled open the door of the apartment with a manufactured smile.
It vanished very quickly. Bradley Youngson stood in the hall.
Jennifer’s heart began to pound. She tugged at her shirttails to make sure they covered her burgeoning midsection and whispered, “How did you find me?”
His dark eyes never left her face. “Simple,” he said. “I went to your old office and threatened Dolores with every form of mayhem known to man, and a few I invented, if she didn’t tell me where you were.”
Jennifer closed her eyes. Damn Dolores and her big mouth. If she had told Lee that Jennifer was pregnant, Jennifer was going to take the first plane back to Philly and tie her to the Penn Central tracks.
They surveyed each other in silence. Lee looked wonderful, as usual, immaculate in designer jeans and a white turtleneck sweater that flattered his dusky skin. By contrast, Jennifer, exhausted and filthy, felt like the television illustration for a person with an Excedrin headache.
“May I come in?” he asked pointedly.
Her mind whirling with a dozen questions, Jennifer stepped aside just as her newly installed telephone began to ring. “Excuse me,” she said.
What now? Jennifer thought as she moved to answer it Lee stood in the middle of the room, looking around. There wasn’t much to see except piles of cardboard boxes and general confusion.
It was Dolores. “Oh, Jenny, I’m so glad I finally got you. I’ve been trying for two days, but you didn’t have a number. Lee Youngson was here, he made me tell him where you were, and I’m afraid he’ll—”
“You’re a little late, Dolores,” Jennifer interrupted her. “He’s standing in my living room.”
Jennifer eyed Lee who was staring, mystified, at the poster Jennifer had tacked to the wall. It was the Middle English version of the Prologue to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, a departing gift from Mrs. Mason.
Dolores groaned. “Oh, God, I was afraid of that. Jennifer, please forgive me, but he was so upset, I thought he was going to kill me.”
“It’s all right, Dolores,” Jennifer said wearily. “It doesn’t matter.”
Strangely enough, it didn’t. Everything else had gone wrong; having Lee show up to find her looking like an underage bag lady was just another calamity to add to a long list.
“I didn’t tell him you were pregnant,” Dolores said piously. There was a pause. “Though if I were you, I—”
“Thank you, Dolores,” Jennifer said in a strong voice. “It was thoughtful of you to call. I’ll be in touch. goodbye.” She dropped the receiver back into its cradle.
“I take it that was Dolores,” Lee said.
“Yes.”
“Calling to warn you of the impending arrival of the rampaging savage,” he added.
Jennifer said nothing.
“Oh, well, I’m glad to see she survived her last encounter with me. She was looking strangely pale when I left; I fear I’ve lost a fan.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the wall. “What is that? German?”
“The Prologue to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, in the original Middle English. It looks and sounds like German. Old English does, too, only more so.”
He nodded, watching her. “I wondered why it seemed familiar.”
Jennifer met his eyes, asking herself why she was babbling about Chaucer when she wanted to fling herself on Lee and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. But he mustn’t know that. She crossed her arms on her stomach, concealing it from his sharp eyes.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Don’t beat around the bush, Jennifer,” he said sarcastically. “Come directly to the point.”
She waited, unmoving.
Lee propped one foot, encased in a leather topsider, on an overturned box and leaned forward with his arms folded on his upraised knee. “I’ve been accepted to medical school. I’m retiring from football and starting at Temple University in the fall.”
Jennifer felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. He had done it He had really done it Her throat closed with emotion.
“That’s wonderful, Lee,” she managed to get out “Congratulations.”
His black eyes bored into hers. “You’re responsible, you know. You convinced me to try. Without your encouragement, I never would have had the nerve.”
Jennifer turned away, biting her lip hard to hold back the tears. “Nonsense,” she said in an approximation of a normal tone. “You would have come to the same realization of what you wanted sooner or later; I just brought it into the open faster, that’s all.”
There was no reply from the man behind her. “Is that what you came to tell me?” she asked, coughing slightly to disguise the hoarseness of her voice. That couldn’t be all. He had bludgeoned Dolores, tracked her down like Sherlock Holmes, and flown thousands of miles to deliver this message? He could have telephoned or written. She was puzzled.
“Well, yes…” he said, sounding confused. Then she was suddenly seized by the shoulders and hauled around to face him.
“Goddamnit,” he said between gritted teeth, “why do I always allow you to do this to me? That wasn’t what I came to say at all.” He stared down at her, his stark features filled with emotion.
“Why did you leave your job with the Freedom?” he demanded.
“I wanted a change of scenery, warmer weather,” Jennifer said evasively. “What business is it of yours?”
“I’ll tell you what business of mine it is,” Lee said grimly. “I think you left because of me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jennifer said, trying to shrug free of his viselike grip.
“I think you wanted to be gone before I reported back to camp next fall. You didn’t know I would be starting school, and you resigned so as not to see me again,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
“You think I would give up a job I worked years to get just to avoid a few uncomfortable moments with you?” she said scornfully. “I’ve heard of giant egos, but yours must be the size of an airplane hangar.”
“That’s not the reason,” he said calmly, holding her fast despite her fruitless efforts to wriggle free. “You gave up the job because you’re in love with me and you couldn’t stand to be around me and not have me.”
Jennifer stared at him, dumbfounded.
His beautiful eyes became lambent and full of feeling. “At least, I hope so, because I came here to tell you I love you and want to take you back with me.
The silence was deafening.
“I said I love you,” Lee repeated. “Do you love me?” It was issued like a challenge.
No response.
Lee shook her gently. “Aren’t you speaking English today?”
Jennifer burst into tears.
Lee sighed and released her. “Look, something is wrong here. When I say I love you, you’re supposed to say ‘I love you, too’ and smother me in an ardent embrace.”
Jennifer sat on an orange crate and bawled.
“Oh, fine,” Lee said, throwing up his hands. “What am I supposed to derive from this?”
When she continued to cry, he sat down next to her and waited for the storm to pass, surveying her with an expression of mixed exasperation and tenderness. As she subsided to an occasional sniffle, he said, “Does that mean you love me, or not?”
Jennifer wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Of course I love you, you jackass.”
She didn’t see his long, deep, silent sigh of relief. In a voice that was not quite steady he said, “I see. Don’t you think it would be more appropriate to say, ‘Of course I love you, my darling’? You jackass’ hardly seems the proper form of address.”
She looked up at him from under long, spiky lashes matted with tears. “Are you going to pick a fight about that, now? Besides, anybody else but you would have realized it long before this.” She hiccuped.
His eyes widened. “Oh, is that so?”
Jennifer took the bandanna off her head and mopped her cheeks with it. “Yes, that’s so.”
He took the kerchief from her and finished the job. “Perhaps you’ll be kind enough to tell me how I was supposed to detect your mad passion for me when you were throwing me out of your apartment This was followed, as I recall, by your packing up and moving 1,300 miles away without even a goodbye. I emerged from the hospital to find that you had vanished.”
“After you convinced me there was no future for us.”
Lee dropped his eyes. “Forgive me, Jen. I was wrong. I had a lot of time to think while I was laid up, to reevaluate everything. I guess the scare made me realize what really mattered to me.” He paused. “Joe and Dawn told me how you came to the hospital.” He looked up again. “Nothing is as important as you and me, and our love.”
“Are you sure, Lee? I know what your roots mean to you.”
“I’m sure. I guess I finally see that having you doesn’t mean that I have to give them up. Don’t you think we can work it out?”
“I haven’t been able to think since I opened that door and saw you.”
He knelt before her and took her tenderly in his arms. She sought his mouth blindly with hers.
A long while later he said, “There won’t be as much money, with me in school, but I’ve saved quite a bit, and the condo and the car are free and clear. We can live in the condo after we’re married, if you like, it’s only forty minutes to the school from there, and I’m sure Harry will take you back at the Freedom, that is, if you want to work . ..” He hesitated. “And I’d like you to think about going back to Montana with me after I finish school. It’ll be our decision, of course, but please say you’ll consider it.”
Jennifer smiled. “Could they use another lawyer in Cawassa, Montana?”
Lee hugged her tighter. “In Cawassa, Montana, they could use another everything.” He drew back to look at her. Something was wrong. “Jennifer, what is it?”
“Nothing.”
But he knew. “The hell with your ex-husband, may he crash and burn and dwell in Hades forever.” He turned her to face him. “I’m not him, honey. Just because your first marriage was a disaster, doesn’t mean ours will be.” He pressed her face against his shoulder. “Indians are loyal, don’t you know that? Loyal, brave, thrifty, clean, and reverent.”
“I think you’re talking about the Boy Scouts,” Jennifer mumbled into his sweater.
“Same thing,” he said above her head. “Indians, Scouts, Indian scouts. I can see that you were never a fan of ‘Wagon Train.’”
She clutched him tighter, wanting desperately to believe. “Lee, I hope you’ve thought this out It’s a lot to handle, medical school, a new wife and...” She almost said baby, but caught herself in time.
“As long as you’re with me, I can handle anything.”
He picked her up and stretched her gently on the floor amidst the chaos, dropping next to her and cradling her in his arms, his hands roaming her body. Jennifer held her breath as he touched her rounded belly.
He chuckled. “We’d better put you on a diet, paleface. I think you’re gaining weight” Then he seemed to freeze for a moment, recovering to sit up quickly and examine her more closely, lifting her shirt to take in the stretch bra and the elastic waist of her pants. She saw the realization dawn on his face.
“It’s mine,” he said wonderingly.
Jennifer punched him. “Baboon. Who else could it belong to?”
He hugged her to him fiercely, saying in a strangled voice, “You’d better stop calling me names, paleface, or I might forget that you’re supposed to be crazy about me.” He set her down again and slid along the floor to press his cheek against her belly, his eyes closing luxuriously. Jennifer caressed his soft hair, holding his head, too full to speak.
“When?” he asked hoarsely.
“May.”
He smiled. “That first time. I knew it, I felt it, even then.”
Jennifer was amused. “Oh, really?”
Color seeped into his face. “I meant, I knew we had…set some force in motion. About this…well, I guess I thought you would take care of it.”
Typical male, Jennifer thought “Wrong again, Beaufort.”
“Oh.”
She sat up. “You know, that’s really an insult Assuming that I would just be prepared under any circumstances. I was living alone when I met you, and I wasn’t exactly entertaining the Eighth Army on a regular basis. And our first encounter was, uh, rather spontaneous, if you recall.”
“I recall. Spontaneous as in combustion. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.”
“Thanks a lot.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Don’t be dense, counselor. You know what I mean.” He smiled and sang softly, “‘What a lady, what a night.’”
Now it was Jennifer’s turn to blush.
He laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed, little mother. I’m looking forward to many more of the same.” He cupped her chin in both of his hands and looked into her eyes. “I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me.”
Jennifer shook her head. “I didn’t want to get you that way.”
He looked away. “But you didn’t have to go through with it You could have—”
“No,” Jennifer interrupted him, not letting him finish the thought. “I love you, Lee. I wanted your baby. If I couldn’t have you, then I wanted something of yours to keep.”
He turned aside, blinking rapidly and brushing his eyes with the back of his arm. “That settles it,” he said firmly. “We’re getting married in ten minutes.”
Jennifer giggled. “I don’t think so, Lee. There are licenses, and blood tests, and things.”
“Well, then, as soon as possible.” He drew her to him swiftly. “And in the meantime,” he murmured, unbuttoning her overblouse, “we’ll have to think of something to do.”
“Any ideas?” Jennifer said, sliding her hands under his sweater.
“I’ve got a few,” he said thickly, and then stopped. “Is it all right? I mean, is it safe?”
Jennifer smiled indulgently and pressed into him, feeling his quick response. “Unless you plan on bursting into flames, or otherwise becoming a health hazard, it will be ‘safe’ for some time yet.”
“Exactly what I wanted to hear,” he said, taking off the rest of his clothes. “I don’t suppose there would be such a thing as a bed?”
“I’m afraid not It’s in pieces in one of those boxes.”
“Then we’ll rough it,” he responded, spreading his garments on the floor and pulling Jennifer down with him. “A man whose ancestors made do with packed dirt ought to be able to handle it,” he added, nuzzling her. “God, you smell wonderful.”
“You must be in love,” Jennifer answered. “After the work I did today, I probably smell like the Freedom’s locker room after a game.”
“You know what?” he said, his words muffled by her flesh.
“What?” she groaned, arching under the touch of his lips.
“You talk too much.”
And that was the end of the conversation.
– THE END –
MARRIAGE IN NAME ONLY
Doreen Owens Malek
Published by
Gypsy Autumn Publications
P.O. Box 383 • Yardley, PA I9067
Copyright 1995 and 2012
by Doreen Owens Malek
www.doreenowensmalek.com
The Author asserts the moral right to
be identified as author of this work
All rights reserved. No part of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, scanning or any information storage retrieval system, without explicit permission in writing from the author or Publisher.
First USA Printing: 1995
First Canadian Printing 1995
First German Printing 1995
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author.
Chapter 1
As soon as Ann stepped off the plane, she knew she was in Florida.
She had not been home for eleven years, but the combination of humid air, salt smell and intense, direct sunlight was still as familiar to her as her own hands. She did not need to see the palm trees or sapodillas, the hibiscus or jacaranda, to know that the Keys were once again exerting their spell, even though the last time she left she fully expected never to be back again.
She stopped off in a restroom at the airport before picking up her rental car, and the mirror showed her a pretty but tired woman with striking features and circles under her wide green eyes. She brushed out her long blonde hair, delicately dabbed powder on her nose and chin, and replenished her lipstick. No wonder she looked exhausted. She had been on the phone with her half brother’s lawyers until the wee hours for several days—since she’d been in Europe she’d had to accommodate the time difference—and once she had returned to New York, she’d booked a flight to Florida immediately.
The problem could not wait.
Her half brother was bankrupt and had run the family business into the ground. Ann’s family, the Talbots, had once been among the richest and most influential on Lime Island. Now the Talbot company, a computer software supplier called ScriptSoft, was on the ropes, filing for Chapter Eleven. Her half brother Tim owed money to casinos in Las Vegas, Reno, Atlantic City, and Monte Carlo. He could no longer borrow from company funds to pay his debts, since there was nothing left. In desperation, the filing attorney had tracked Ann down in Italy, where she was doing research for a new book, to tell her what was happening.
And now she was in Florida to deal with the crisis.
Ann had wanted nothing to do with the family business. She had not spoken to her father since she’d left, and so when he’d died he had transferred the company to Tim. But Ann still held a large portion of the stock, even though it was now it was almost worthless, and as Tim’s sole sibling she had been consulted on the resolution of the problem.
Ann’s half brother had just been arrested in Miami on federal charges of stock manipulation. He was being prosecuted for misrepresenting the financial status of ScriptSoft by issuing falsified quarterly reports in previous years. As a result of these reports the company stock went up temporarily, allowing Tim to cash in his personal shares at a large profit. But when the company’s true status was later revealed, the reconciliation by the accounting team brought in by the board of directors drove the company into bankruptcy.
Ann knew that Tim had lost the money gambling; he had a long standing habit for which he had gone through rehabilitation several times to no avail. Now, apparently, there wasn’t even enough money left to pay his bail.
Ann put her comb back into her purse and sighed. She loved Tim for their shared childhood, for the memories she had of the shy, lonely little boy who would visit Florida from his mother’s home in New England for the summers. But since his college days she’d known he’d had a gambling habit. She had closed her eyes to his problem, never questioned him about the company or his handling of it, all to obliterate from her mind the painful connection with her father. Now both her parents were dead, Tim was in serious trouble, and she could not ignore the situation any longer.
Ann zipped her purse closed and went out into the busy corridor to claim her car.
* * * *
The breeze coming in through the car window was heavy with salt, sticky against her skin, but Ann left the window open, enjoying the change from November in New York. There the post-Thanksgiving shoppers had thronged the blustery streets and the roads were clogged, as usual, with noisy traffic. Here the streets were empty except for a few pedestrians, senior citizens walking dogs or younger people jogging lazily past the bursting shrubbery. The change in pace was jarring, especially since Ann had not experienced it for so long. But it brought back memories of still, lazy days and breathless starry nights, the endless summers on Lime Island when she was a girl.
But Ann had promised herself she wouldn’t think about that. She turned purposefully down a side street, away from the business district, heading toward the water.
She had some time before her business appointment and she wanted to see her old house again. It had been sold five years earlier when her mother had died, and at the time she had let Tim handle everything and never questioned what he’d done with the money. She hadn’t cared. Now she assumed that the profit from the house had gone into his gambling. She probably should have paid more attention to his dealings, but her grief had been such that she’d wanted nothing to do with the house, the company, or anything else that had issued from her father’s life. Perhaps she had been foolish because she’d always known that Tim was weak, but her emotional survival had dictated that she cut herself off from everything in the past and start fresh. After college she had carved out a career writing historical fiction. She had been content to support herself by living in the fictional past, until the summons from Tim’s lawyer had brought her rudely back to the present.
Ann glided to a stop at the curb and stared up at the house, a white stucco Colonial with dark blue shutters set back from a wide expanse of green lawn, no mean feat to maintain through the blistering heat of a south Florida summer. Her father had installed automatic sprinklers to keep his property a verdant emerald, and one of her most vivid memories was of being awakened in the simmering summer dawns by the hiss and rush of the sprinklers outside her window. Now they were silent. She studied the expertly cultivated lush foliage, the neat brick path leading to the front door, the clapboard boathouse to the left of the main dwelling, the blue waters of the canal running behind the rear patio and leading to the intracoastal waterway. A Miami millionaire owned the Talbot place now and used it only occasionally for a getaway.
Except for the ancient gardener snipping desultorily at a kudzu vine growing along the edge of the crushed stone driveway, it looked like nobody was home.
Ann put her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. She had met Heath in that boathouse, and that meeting had changed her life forever.
She gave the car gas and drove away, recalling how she had lived in that mansion with her father, Henry Talbot, and his second wife, her mother.
Ann had been the daughter of privilege, sent to the best private schools, coming home to the Keys to spend the summers with her half brother Tim, the child of her father’s brief first marriage. She had never given a thought to the servants, the nannies, the summer home in Maine, the condo in the Bahamas, until she had turned her back on it all when she was seventeen. Her life since then had been very different, but she hadn’t missed any of the niceties associated with her father’s success just as she hadn’t missed the man himself. When he’d died, she had attended his funeral in his hometown of Springfield, Massachusetts, but had left without speaking to anybody. When her mother had died a few years later, Ann had brought the body north to bury her in New Jersey with the rest of her family. And except for occasional phone calls and visits from Tim, she had buried the past along with her mother.
If Tim had managed ScriptSoft profitably, she would never have come back home again.
Ann turned a corner and headed back to the business district, crossing the railroad tracks that bisected the island. To the south of them lay Hispaniola, the Cuban-Indian shanty town where Heath had lived when she’d first met him.
She had no idea where he lived now.
Downtown Port Lisbon had changed; there were new high-rises along the main street and a traffic light at the corner by Burdine’s department store. Ann parked in the lot behind the refurbished Acadian-style building that housed the law firm handling Tim’s bankruptcy. She glanced in the rearview mirror to tidy her hair, got out of the car and straightened the tailored jacket of the lightweight wool suit she was wearing.
