A Matter of Marriage (15 page)

Alex
didn’t look at her again. He knew he should say something to put her at ease.
He ought to explain all the reasons behind his antagonistic feelings toward his
in-laws, but he couldn’t.

Not
today. Maybe not ever.

Sitting
at her desk during Alex’s shopping and reconnaissance trip to San Diego, Julia
entered the hotel’s most recent expenses into the ledger. She tried to focus on
the rising cost of beef, which would necessitate changes on the dining room
menu and bring on the wrath of Chef Leuven, but her mind kept returning to the
scene in the park.

She
should not have let Alex kiss her out where anyone could have seen them, but,
heaven help her, she had been powerless to resist. Thank goodness Muffie and
Mrs. Hensley had arrived when they did, except that their appearance had
subsequently raised troubling questions about Alex. There was no denying his
deep-seated anger toward his in-laws. She had heard it in his voice. But what she
knew so far of his in-laws didn’t seem to warrant such anger. There must be
more to it, but he was being secretive, which reminded her that she had married
a drifter without references—a stranger.

Julia
laid down her pen, rested her elbows on the desk, and rubbed her eyes. Life was
supposed to have gotten simpler after her marriage, not more complicated. The
man she married, the man who had protected her, was worthy of her trust. She
felt it in her heart. He was a good man. Why, he hadn’t even taken advantage of
her in the privacy of her apartment. And his pride had kept him from wanting
her to pay for his clothing.

Her
office door squeaked open, and she jerked her head up, half-expecting Alex to
appear as if conjured from her thoughts.

“Mr.
Wolff,” she said through a tight jaw, masking her surprise and trepidation. Was
he behind the flowerpot and sabotage? She did not get up. “It is customary to
knock on a closed door.”

“I’ll
try to remember that,” he said, entering the office and offering no apology. He
closed the door.

She
ground her teeth at his arrogance and maintained a wary eye on him. Hopefully somebody
had seen him enter her office. If he was her assailant, he wouldn’t dare harm
her here, would he?

“I
had hoped I wouldn’t see you again,” she said. “Shouldn’t you have returned
east by now?”

“I
did.” He removed his black fedora, revealing dark, wavy brown hair.

His
face was striking, olive-complexioned with hazel, old-beyond-his-years eyes, as
if he had experienced more than most men his age. Julia couldn’t help but
think, yet again, that there was something familiar about him.

He
dropped his hat on her desk and sat down across from her, making himself at
home. “I took care of my most pressing business matters and came back here to
handle the one that was pending.”

“Nothing
is ‘pending’ between us.”

“Oh,
but there is. I want the Hotel Grand Victoria, and you are going to sell it to
me.”

She
picked up her pen, the only potential weapon at hand. The man’s single-minded
determination astonished and frightened her. He did not know when to give up
and move on. How far might he go to get what he wanted?

“Do
you not understand the meaning of the word ‘no,’ Mr. Wolff? I told you before,
the Hotel Grand Victoria is not for sale.”

“Under
the right circumstances, everything is for sale.”

“What
do you mean by that? Under what ‘circumstances’?” Was he implying
responsibility for the attacks against her, telling her she would remain in
danger until she signed over the hotel? She gripped the pen more tightly and wished
Alex were with her. He would not be happy when he found out no one had stopped
Tyler Wolff from waltzing into her office. From now on, she was going to lock the
door.

“Oh,
you never know. Circumstances can change quickly, necessitating other changes.”
He plucked a piece of lint off the fine black material of his cutaway suit.
Woven into the lightweight wool, silvery silk threads shimmered like a spider’s
web. “Congratulations on your recent marriage, by the way.”

“How
would you know about that? The announcement won’t appear in the newspaper until
tomorrow.”

“Gossip
travels quickly, Mrs. MacLean.”

It
certainly did, she thought, especially if the gossip was being paid for. Did
Mr. Wolff have an informant in her midst?

“I’d
like to meet your husband,” Wolff said, examining his manicured fingernails,
then buffing them against his jacket. “He would undoubtedly find my offer of
great interest.”

“He
would not. If you and he were to meet, he’d tell you the same thing himself.”

“Maybe.
Maybe not.”

“Mr.
Wolff, why do you want the hotel so badly?”

He
rubbed at the bridge of his slightly crooked nose, the only imperfection she
discerned in his looks. “For investment purposes, of course.”

“Of
course.” She didn’t believe him for a minute.

He
got up and wandered over to the three framed photographs on the wall. One
showed the hotel shortly after its completion, another showed it under
construction, and a third showed her father breaking ground with a shovel.

“Though
many banks are still suffering the effects of the Panic of Ninety-three,” he
said, studying the photographs, “the depression is, for the most part, fading
from people’s memories. In time, the economy will grow stronger and people will
begin spending their money on travel again.”

“And
I will be waiting for them.”

“I
think not.” He chuckled, then touched the frame holding her father’s
photograph. “Who’s the man with the shovel?”

“Lloyd
Fairbanks, my deceased father.”

“You
don’t look anything like him.”

“Mr.
Wolff, as I’m sure you can understand, I have work to do.” She tapped the
ledger with her pen. “Please go. And don’t come back.”

“Ah,
Julia, I had hoped you would make this easy on yourself. Now I’m going to have
to do things the hard way.”

Wolff’s
implied threat and his use of her given name sent an icy chill up her spine. She
struggled to keep her composure. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He
scooped his hat off the desk. “Good day.”

The
instant the door closed behind him, she jumped up, locked herself in, and
quaked like a frightened puppy. She wanted Alex, needed him, but she also hated
needing him. If only she could handle Wolff on her own, but she didn’t know
how, and she had already come to depend on Alex.

Too
much, she feared.

*   *   *

Julia
paced the increasingly small confines of her office, accomplishing nothing
while waiting for Alex’s return.

When
someone knocked, she clapped a hand to her heart. “Who’s there?” she called
out.

“It’s
me,” came his welcome voice. The doorknob shook as he tried to let himself in.

“I’m
coming.” She breathed a sigh of relief, but not as deeply as she would’ve
liked. She hadn’t managed a truly deep breath since before Wolff’s arrival. She
unlocked the door and swung it open, more relieved than she wanted to admit
when Alex stood in front of her with an armload of packages wrapped in brown
paper. If his arms had been empty, she might have flung herself into them.

He
frowned, his broad forehead creased like freshly raked sand. “Has something
happened?”

“Yes.
No. I mean, first, get me out of here. Please. I feel like a caged animal. I
want to walk on the beach.”

“All
right.” He dumped his packages onto the chair and motioned her out the door.

With
Alex behind her, she hurried through the hotel grounds and scrambled down the
pathway to the beach. The surf was higher than yesterday, the waves rolling in
and crashing down under the now-overcast sky. No one was bathing, the sea too
rough and its temperature too cold.

She
hastened her steps until reaching the end of the path. Not until she stood in
the sand and stared at the ocean’s horizon did she finally succeed in drawing a
full, satisfying breath. It smelled of the sea, and she held it in for a moment
before releasing it on a long sigh.

“Feel
better?” Alex asked.

“Much
better. Thank you.”

“What
happened?” He removed his shoes and socks, stuffing the socks inside.

She
started walking toward the waves. He fell into step beside her, his shoes
dangling from one hand. “While you were checking up on Tyler Wolff,” she said, “he
was checking up on me. He paid me a visit.”

He
slapped his shoes against his thigh. “Dammit! I should’ve been here.”

A
sea gull cried out above them. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I
did know he’d gone out. The bellboy I talked to at his hotel didn’t know where,
though. Did Wolff threaten you?”

“Not
specifically,” she answered, turning north when they reached the high-tide
line, “but I felt threatened just the same. He wants the hotel, and he intends
to have it. I don’t know what he has in mind, but I do think he’s paying
someone on my staff for information. He knew about our marriage.” She felt
better already, sharing her fears with Alex.

“Did
he seem like he might be behind the attacks on you? I found out he returned to San Diego two days before the flowerpot was thrown.”

“It’s
possible, but I don’t know for sure.” She skirted a mound of glistening brown
kelp brought up by the waves and tide. Alex stepped over it. As they kept
walking, they approached five spindly legged sandpipers probing the wet sand.
Every few seconds, a wave would chase them up the beach, then they’d follow the
foamy water back down. When she and Alex continued forward, the birds took
flight, landing on another patch of wet sand.

“He
probably didn’t do it himself,” he said. “He’s a wealthy man and would’ve hired
someone who can get close to you, possibly whoever’s passing him the
information about you. Did you ask why he wants the hotel so badly?”

“He
claims for investment purposes.” She shrugged as the breeze carried the spray
from a large wave far enough to mist their faces. A shell crunched under her
shoe.

“You
think there’s another reason?”

“It’s
just a feeling, but, yes, I think so. I just wish I knew what.”

“I’m
tempted to confront him,” he said, “except that we don’t have any evidence
against him. And if he is behind the attacks, we’d be tipping our hand, letting
him know we suspect him.”

“Then
I don’t know what to do.”

They
walked on in silence, passing a little boy of about three who was playing in
the sand, safely away from the surf. He wore a navy blue sailor suit with
large, bright red buttons. He scooped dry sand into a tin pail, then poured it
out. His mother, in a pink skirt and white shirtwaist, stood close by, smiling
down at him.

Julia
glanced over at Alex. He was watching the little boy, an expression of such
painful longing and sadness on his face that her throat tightened. Suddenly he
tore his gaze away from the boy and stared at a packet ship sailing past the islands
off the coast.

Continuing
their walk, leaving the child and his mother behind, Julia heard the boy say, “I’m
gonna get some water.”

“No,
sweetheart, you stay here.” There was a pause, followed by, “Joshua! What did
Mama say? Come back!”

A
woman’s scream split the air.

Julia
whirled and gasped.

A
wave had picked up the child and was pulling him off the beach. Joshua lay like
a turtle on its back, his little legs and arms flailing as he tried to keep his
head up in the surging mass of white water. He disappeared.

Her
stomach clenched. She shrieked, “No!”

Alex
had already dropped his shoes and was racing into the waves.

Julia
ran to the boy’s mother and threw her arm around her shoulders in an attempt to
calm her, but also to keep her from trying to go after her son. Wearing sodden
skirts and battling high waves, the woman would certainly drown.

Joshua’s
mother’s screams turned to sobs. She clung to Julia as they watched Alex
desperately searching for the child in the roiling and numbing water.

“He’ll
find your boy,” Julia said, praying she spoke the truth.

Alex
stood waist-deep in the surf. Waves battered his already battered body. He
turned in circles, looking everywhere, reaching into the water, but coming up
empty-handed. Every few seconds he dove under. Each time he surfaced with
nothing.

Joshua
had vanished beneath the endless procession of waves. His abandoned pail was
half buried in the glistening sand. Water streamed around it.

Julia
saw a growing panic in Alex’s face. His movements became jerky, perhaps
partially due to the cold water.

Trying
to control her own panic, she scanned the surf for the tiniest bit of color
that didn’t belong to the sea. She had no idea how much time had passed, but
she didn’t think it could have been more than two minutes.

Joshua’s
mother moaned and keened. “My baby. Where is my baby? He can’t just disappear.”