Judgement By Fire (10 page)

Her sudden
feeling of triumphant power was short lived however. Going onto the attack, Jon
said roughly, “I don’t have a clue what kind of game you’re playing. I knew you
were after publicity, wanting to make the company look bad and gain public
sympathy. Well, you got plenty of publicity; too bad it wasn’t really the kind
you were looking for, but thems the breaks. And if you and your drunken little
friend don’t like it, then don’t play games where you can get burned.”

Lauren gasped
at the anger and cruelty in his words. The ruthless streak it revealed
dissolved any feeling of pleasure that had briefly flared within her at seeing
that he, too, reacted to their physical nearness.

“Lucy is not a
drunk,” she whispered, disgusted to find that she was struggling to fight back
tears.

            “Well, she sure as
hell put on a good show of it, falling over like that.” His eyes narrowed
contemptuously, “Or is she on something a little stronger, something illegal?
Isn’t that how artists are supposed to get their kicks?”

            Lauren felt as if
he’d punched her, the contemptuous words hard and hurtful as they echoed in her
mind. Was this the man she had thought so sensitive, so kind, as they’d sat
talking together in the snow-brightened twilight of the woods?

            With great effort,
she pulled herself together, straightening her spine.

“Lucy suffers
from a serious heart condition, and has just had surgery. That didn’t stop her
from touring schools and wearing herself out working for the literacy program
by introducing children to the pleasures of reading.”

            “You can sit here in
your big, plush offices,
Mister
Rush, and gloat over the fact that a
very sick woman is now in hospital under doctor’s orders because of the stress
you’ve caused in putting her under threat of having to leave the home she
loves. Is it really worth the pain you’re causing, just so that you can make a
few more million for yourself and your shareholders? But I doubt there’s much
point in appealing to your decency, you obviously don’t have any.”

            Lauren turned her
back on him, marching to the door on legs that threatened to give way. Jon
sprang from his seat and covered the distance between them in a few long
strides, reaching the door ahead of her. Placing his hand on her arm, he was
horrified to feel her trembling under his touch, trembling from the hurt he’d
caused her.

            “Take your hand off
me or I’ll scream so loud your own security staff will be here asking
questions.” Lauren forced herself to look at him, saw the regret in his eyes,
but steeled herself to shield her own tumultuous feelings from him. No way
would she let him know how he’d hurt her. She’d make sure he never got a second
chance.

            It seemed to take an
eternity to cross the deep-piled carpet of Rush’s executive reception area,
aware of the hostile gaze of the receptionist boring into her back, and then
down the long plummet of the elevator to the ground floor foyer. Once outside,
Lauren took a deep breath of city air, and released the tense set of her spine,
something she hadn’t dared do until she was way away from Jon Rush, otherwise
she knew she’d have broken down in tears.

She wouldn’t
give him that pleasure.

            No, she corrected
herself. That was unfair. It was obvious from his expression as she’d stormed
from his office that he knew he’d gone too far and was sorry. But that high-handed,
contemptuous behavior was something she’d experienced before, her ex-husband
was full of that kind of thing.

And Lauren
never, ever wanted to experience being close enough to a man to be hurt like
that, ever again. She remembered the ego wounding, soul undermining, creativity
destroying pain of her earlier relationship, and that little voice inside her
head warned her that a similar experience with Jon Rush would wipe her right
out.

Because you
could really, really care for this guy,
the voice whispered.

But I
really cared for Terry,
she replied to herself.

           
Like, right! But
with Rush, it’s a grown-up feeling…

           
“Oh, shut up
and leave me alone!” Lauren told the voice in her head, not realizing she spoke
aloud until several pedestrians in her area gave her strange looks and a wide
berth, not wanting to get involved with any street crazies.

This woman
was well dressed and looked normal, but you could never really tell,
their
eyes said as they exchanged glances with each other.

            Lauren’s first
impulse was to run to the safe haven of her car, maybe howl with pain and
frustration for a few minutes, and then head home. But she knew that, when it
seemed like the world was about to end, the best thing to do was to keep right
on going. She saw the familiar sign of a fast food restaurant further down the
street, and her stomach hinted with a growl that a hot coffee sounded really
good. Hot pancakes with maple syrup and sausage, too, her stomach added,
reminding her that she’d not eaten since that cereal bar and coffee in the
woods early that morning.

Which thought
brought her back to Jon Rush and his Jekyll-and-Hyde act.

The afternoon
temperatures were starting to drop, and even though spring was more advanced
here in the city than in rural West River, Lauren still found herself shivering
in her sweater and blazer. The restaurant was crowded, but clean and bright.
Lauren thought it was one of life’s mysteries how the staff of such places
could remain so cheerful, on their feet all day and dealing with some pretty
awkward customers. The rewards weren’t so great, either.

Nonetheless,
the teenage girl behind the counter took Lauren’s order with a smile, asked if
she wanted anything else and, when she realized the stacks behind her were
empty of Meal #3’s, assured her that she would bring the pancakes over to
Lauren as soon as they were ready.

Staring at her
own reflection in the glass window, and at the outside street it framed rapidly
fading into the blurred shapes of late winter dusk, Lauren asked herself what
she should do now. She was surprised how hurt she’d been by the publicity, by
the bald public suggestion that she had been guilty of wrongdoing.

Soon, feeling
better with the simple meal inside her, she thought of Jane Rollands. Jane was
an old
high school friend of Lauren’s
who’d gone on to law school and later into general practice in the city. Terry
and Jane hadn’t really hit it off and so they’d seen less and less of each
other socially and they’d seen little of one another after Lauren had moved to
West River. Jane’s common sense approach, and her legal expertise, was exactly
what she needed now.

Gathering up
her things, Lauren used the pay telephone in the entrance of the fast-food
restaurant to find her friend’s telephone number, got a welcoming reception,
and arranged to go to Jane’s off-College Street office.

The lawyer was
busy with a client when Lauren arrived, but the receptionist—this time a kindly
looking lady in her sixties wearing a home-knitted sweater and a tweed
skirt—welcomed Lauren with the offer of a hot coffee and urged her to sit down
and wait.

“The boss
won’t be long,” the woman assured Lauren as she returned to her word processor.

A short time
later, she was seated opposite her friend in one of the two leather-covered
wing chairs in a window alcove of Jane’s office, overlooking the busy street
below. To the side of them, a large, meticulously tidy desk stood, files in
various colors stacked neatly to one side of a leather-cornered blotter, while
rows of leather bound legal tomes frowned down intimidatingly from shelves
around the room. Much less intimidating was their owner, Jane Rollands, who at
29 was the picture of a slightly plump housewife - a deceptive look that hid a
razor sharp mind and genuine love for the law. 

“It’s coincidence
that you should be here, Lauren, ‘cos I was actually going to give you a call,
after I saw those pictures in the papers.” Jane, in the middle of offering
Lauren a plate of cookies to go with the second cup of coffee, caught her
friend’s eye and switched vocal direction. “Ah, so that’s why you’re here—the
pictures!”

“I thought if
anyone could advise me, you could,” Lauren confessed. “I can’t believe how bad
I feel, knowing that everyone I meet has probably seen pictures which make me
look like some war-like harridan beating up on helpless company executives.”

Jane grinned.
“Two points. You missed out the
handsome
debonair
company
executive, and I’ve never personally thought of Jon Rush as helpless.”

“You know
him?” Lauren’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but really she should have known Jane
would know everyone worth knowing in the city by now.

“Met him a few
times, mostly at boring social events, fund-raisers, that sort of thing. He’s
pretty generous as far as charitable donations are concerned, and I heard he’s
a big mover and shaker in getting a foundation going to provide the
outward-bound type of country experience to underprivileged city kids.”

“You make him
sound like a saint,” Lauren said cynically.

“Ah, he’s a
pretty good guy, as execs go. Let’s say I don’t think he quite deserves to be
beaten over the head with a two by two,” Jane grinned wickedly as Lauren rose
to the bait, denying that the incident had been anything but an accident.

Then Lauren
went on to relate her meeting with Jon, and her fears that he might use the
event to further discredit her, and by implication, the Art Before Commerce
committee.

“Well, I doubt
that he would, and there’s not a lot you could do at this juncture that
wouldn’t cause further comment. You could get an injunction, that kind of
thing, but it would all keep the issue in front of the public, driving the wrong
message further home. You know, most people really believe there’s no smoke
without fire, and that old Shakespeare line, something like: ‘…
Methinks the
lady doth protest too much
’ is probably one that would be heard a lot in
cases like this.”

“So you think
it’s better to just let it drop?” Lauren asked doubtfully.

“I would if I
were you,” Jane replied. “Let’s keep an eye on it. I would say that Rush is
more concerned that you guys were using this as a means of smearing his
company, and this was a kind of pre-emptive strike. The newspaper reports
provided the perfect opportunity for him to turn it around, to avoid having
Rush Co. look like the bully. To look, in fact, like the injured party here. Literally.

“Then he adds
to the impression of great corporate reasonableness and restraint by never
quite accusing you and your committee of being the aggressors but letting
everyone draw their own conclusions from the pictures.”

Lauren was
silent for a few moments, remembering Jon’s angry accusation that she had been
looking for publicity, but had gotten the wrong kind. Maybe Jane was right.

“I still think
he’s a scum-sucking, bottom-feeding-pond-dweller,” she declared, causing Jane
to raise an eyebrow.

“Like him that
much, do you?” The other woman teased. “Can’t say I blame you much, lots of
women seem to fall at his feet. Though after Terry, I’d think you would be a
bit gun shy.”

“Too true,”
Lauren declared, asking if Jane ever saw Terry or his new wife, Susie,
socially.

“We’ve met
occasionally at the same parties, but mostly formal stuff. They move in more
exalted circles, now. Mind you, I hear Susie’s a very good hostess…”

“So at least
Terry has found what he wants…” Lauren said.

“Well, maybe.
I suppose I shouldn’t gossip, but there’s a delicious rumor that he still has a
wandering eye. You ought to see his newest secretary.”

“You’re
kidding me!” Lauren laughed. Conversation went to more general topics and
people they knew in common, and soon Lauren felt calm and refreshed enough to
head off back to her studio. She wasn’t looking forward to the long drive, but
felt she’d at least cleared her mind and would be able to go on with some work
in the evening hours.

On her way
back to the car park, she passed the window of the gallery where some of her
work hung with that of other artists. She was surprised and gratified to see
that one of her nature studies was featured among the spotlighted works hung in
the large plate glass window.

It was here,
at the opening of the ‘Ontario Wildlife’ exhibition, that she had first met Steve
Wallace. He’d been so superficially attractive, she’d been disappointed when
that had given way to demands on her time and jealous tantrums when she wasn’t available
whenever he felt like a date.

There were
several apparent similarities between Steven and Jon Rush, she thought with a
start. They were both tall, blond men, powerfully built, but where Jon
exhibited quiet authority and confidence, Steve exuded a kind of manic charm
which was exciting but…again, the word superficial sprang to mind.

Not wanting to
spend any more time thinking about either man, Lauren pulled her blazer more
snugly around her against the increasing chill and joined the throng of home-going
workers trudging through Toronto’s city streets as she walked to the car park
where she’d left her small car.

Ruefully
looking at the billboard where parking fees were displayed, Lauren thought that
if she’d stayed much longer, the parking would have cost more than the elderly
car was worth.

* * *

Jon finished
the meeting he’d been in when Lauren interrupted, studiously ignoring the
subtle and not-so-subtle attempts by his staff to find out the identity of the
beautiful young woman who’d laid siege to their routine department-heads only
planning meeting. One of the least subtle was Ray Wilkie, the gray-haired older
man whose amusement Lauren had noted.