Unmasked (New Adult Romance) (The Unmasked Series) (5 page)

"I-" he stopped himself short of apologizing. Not
this time, he thought, not this time, Preston. Time to grow into these years
you've got on you.

The walk to the front door was a long one. Halfway
there, Preston stopped to rub his legs. For the last couple of days, they'd
been getting stiff, and he wasn't quite sure why, but he didn't give it much
thought.

In the front, he turned left and followed the path
to his garden – his favorite place in the entire estate – and slowly plodded
along the stone. As soon as he was in his sanctuary, surrounded by his roses,
Preston let himself take a deep breath, then hold it before he exhaled. The way
the swirl of scents made him feel, he couldn't think of anything better.

"Ouch."

A little trickle of blood welled up where he
absent-mindedly grabbed a rose and it pricked. He sucked the red spot off his
finger and looked at the plant that did it. Staring into the spiraling colors
that had taken him a decade to breed, he lost himself in a red and white
pinwheel that he turned in his hand as he stared.

"Alyssa," he said into it, as though saying her
name out loud made his crazy plan real somehow. "I hope this isn't too much for
you to deal with. I really do."

––––––––

"Gentlemen, you have got to stop him." Gadsen paced
the entire length of the board room in thirteen steps, then turned back and
went the other direction. "If he manages to pull off this idiot plan,
everything we've worked for is ruined. The whole plan, ten years, no, thirty
two years, and-"

"And what? We don't talk about that, remember?"
Erwin Greggs, chairman of the Webb Oilworks board, shifted his heavy body in
his chair and took out a handkerchief to mop the ever present sweat off his
forehead. "Anyway, what business is it of ours? If he manages to fulfill the
trust terms, we can't do anything about it."

"Can't," Gadsen said pacing back in the other
direction, "or won't?"

Erwin took a long swallow from his glass and
licked his lips. Gadsen stared at him in disgust, imagining a hippopotamus in
lapels as he wrung his hands.

"And anyway," the Chairman continued, "what would
you have us do? Kill him?"

"No, of course not. That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Evette Bishop said from the other end of
the table. She was wearing the same powder-blue sweater and pants set that she
wore to every board meeting, no matter how close together they fell. She
smelled of patchouli and makeup, and the patchouli was the most subtle part of
her. "Seems like you proposed something along those lines once before."

"Shut up!" Gadsen hissed. "You don't know what
you're talking about."

"Alright. Look," Dan O'Brien spoke from next to
Evette, "we've got more pressing things to worry about than Mr. Webb Jr.'s
marital status. Like that contract that was supposed to be signed and delivered
already. You know, Mr. Cartwright, the one for the pipeline that'll connect us
to the north-and-south line and make us as rich as God? Or John Lennon?" When
he finished speaking, the ruddy man crossed himself.

Gadsen sucked in a breath at the mention of the
contract. "What do you mean it wasn't delivered? Preston told me-"

"You know where he stands on this issue. He's
concerned with the environmental effects, or how it'll ruin the land it runs
under, and then how it will hurt Newtown. The oil won't, but the construction
very well may," Dan said. "I can't believe you managed to fail at something as
simple as that."

"But-"

"No, enough of your crackpot plans and wild ideas,
Gadsen," Evette said. "I know you've been with this family longer than most –
many – of us have been alive, but you need to realize that you're too close to
all this. You think that tiny details matter. They don't. All that matters is
the end result. Do you understand? It doesn't matter to us how you go about
getting done what must be done. Just so long as you do it."

"Now hold on just a minute," Carl Dixon, the
longest standing member of the board, broke in. "I can see why the old man's
worried about this. If the kid really does convince this woman to marry him
somehow, that could seriously disrupt what we've been trying to accomplish." He
was a tall, thick man with a tone that came from Mississippi, but a speaking
speed from New York.

"I'm sorry, but I think something has gone
completely over my head," Dan O'Brien said. "Why does it matter whether or not
the young Webb gets his trust for our purposes?"

"You weren't around for the agreement, were you?"
Erwin shrugged with some effort. "It isn't as much of an issue as it's been
made to be, but when Preston Sr. died," he looked around the room, "when he
died, we found out that against what we asked, his will has a clause where
control of the company only reverts to the board if Preston Jr. hasn't managed
to find himself a fertile missus by the time he turns thirty-three."

Gadsen resumed his pacing. Erwin and Carl followed
his movements. Evette returned to her habitual knitting. Dan licked his lips.

"So what are we doing? Where do we sit right now?"

"Well, as of now," Evette let her easy New-England
accent flow slowly, "we are acting as the company's board. Mr. Webb exists only
in an advisory role as heir to the company. When he fulfills the terms of the
trust, full control of the company reverts to him, and we become an advisory
board." She looked around to a room full of nodding heads, a few with
fingertips rubbing foreheads. "Tell me, Mr. Cartwright, how did he come upon
the idea that he should go out and find himself a wife? I thought he was kept
quite isolated from the rest of humanity?"

"He has, but not for that reason," Gadsen said.
"His scars are substantial."

"Scars?"

An uneasy hush descended over the room. No one
spoke, no one moved. Even Erwin Greggs calmed his fidgeting.

Seconds turned into a minute, and finally,
Evette's knitting needles clicked together again. Slowly, life returned to the
room. One after another, the board members resumed their various movements and
hand wringing and squeaking.

Gadsen's creased forehead was the perfect place
for him to rub. "Anyway," he said, "that's where we stand. I had no idea that
contract had been held up or diverted or whatever you want to say."

"Is there really much of anything tosay?
Seems to me the issue will resolve itself. There's no way this woman that he's
fixated on will actually go along with him." Erwin mopped the bald middle of
his head. He only has a few months left, right?"

Gadsen nodded. "Right. But, you never know how
these things go. Stranger things have happened."

"They have, yes," Evette said with a smirk. "They
most certainly have. But what say you keep anything like that from happening
this time, alright, Gadsen? I don't think any of us want to do anything drastic
again. Whatever that might be." Her voice trailed off.

Soon, the only sounds left in the room were her
clacking needles and Erwin's pen scratching on a slip of paper.

"Just to cover ourselves," he said. "Here is a
list of document boxes that are in storage at the house. Should anything
happen, these need to be, ah, removed from the record. Understand, Gadsen?"

"I do. I'll do what you say. And I'll find that
contract, whatever it takes. We can't fail again."

"Oh, we won't, Mr. Cartwright. Don't worry about
that. See that you get all of them."

––––––––

"Mail came," Alyssa said, grabbing the handful of
letters, about ninety-eight percent of which looked to be garbage, and pushed
the door open with her foot. "Expecting anything?"

"No, nothing in particular. Usually all I get a
bundle of crap from Sears and bills from places that refuse to join the new
millennium."

"Alright then," she handed her dad the mail and
watched him flip through it, then throw all but two pieces in the garbage.
"Tell me if you need anything, I'm gonna go up to my room and finish that book
you told me read."

"Which one? I gave you a reading list of things
you avoided when you were in school. Or at least I think you did."

Lys giggled. "Yeah, I found a ratted up old copy
of
Dracula
at the second hand shop in town. Figured I may as well do
some reading. A well-rounded education can't hurt, after all."

"That's what they say, for sure." He kissed her on
the forehead and squeezed her shoulder. "Take notes, there'll be a quiz
afterward."

As soon as she was gone up the stairs, Ryan sat
down on the couch to open the two pieces of mail he saved.

"Oh good, the bank. Love these guys. Maybe I'll
save this one for dessert. Ehh, better not. Face the morning and all that. And
anyway, this one might actually be good news." He tore open the second
envelope, opened the paper and quickly scanned for the words "loan approved."
He didn't find them.

Ryan sighed, dropped the eighth car loan rejection
notice he'd gotten in three months from eight different banks on the table and
grabbed the other envelope as he stretched out and pushed his boots off with
his feet.

"Ha! Two letters from two different banks arrive
on the same Saturday. Must be magic." When he stuck his finger inside the
envelope and started to rip it, he was interrupted by the phone. It took a
minute for him to realize that's what it was. It had been awhile since he had a
phone call.

"Hel-hello?"

Through the receiver he heard clanging noises,
like a door shutting, and then a cabinet, or possibly a desk drawer. Whatever
it was sounded like wood-on-wood. "Hello?"

"Ah, is this Mr. Ryan Barton?" The man on the
other end had an old voice with a little rattle hanging off the end.

"Speaking. Who is this? Mr. Webb?" It didn't sound
anything like the young man's voice, but that was the only guess he had. "This
isn't the bank, is it?"

"No. And you were partially right. This is Preston
Webb's assistant, Gadsen Cartwright. How do you do?"

"I'm doing well. How are you, Mr. Cartwright? I
wasn't expecting to hear back from you guys so soon. Usually there're a few
days between assignments. Happy to help however I can though, if that's what
this is about."

"Assignments? Oh, no, not right now. It's actually
about your daughter."

"My...which one? Lori?"

His heart skipped a beat. He dropped his two
younger off at a friend's house early that morning for a day full of screaming
and throwing things at each other in the woods, or, as some parents call it, a
birthday party. But there's not much way that Preston Webb's assistant could
know about that.

"No, not her." Ryan heard a piece of paper ruffling.
"No, Alyssa. You have a daughter called Alyssa, correct?"

"Yes, but, I'm sorry Mr. Cartwright, what's this
about again? No one knows that my daughter is back in town."

"I believe you mentioned it to Mr. Webb in a
letter?"

"Oh, yes, of course." He thumped his forehead with
the heel of his hand. "Of course, I'm sorry. But for the life of me I can't
figure out what you'd need her for. She's just in town for a few months to help
out-"

"Yes, nothing about that. As it happens, Mr. Webb
has carried something of a torch for her. I'm not sure of the particulars, but
he'd like to meet her."

Ryan Barton gulped.

"Uh, are you sure? I mean, why?"

"That is beyond me, I'm afraid. Beyond my pay
grade, as they say."

"Right, right." Ryan chuckled nervously. "Well, I
mean sure. I'll have to ask her, but I don't see why not."

"There's no time to ask her. We'll be around at
approximately eight tonight. Please be there. And make the same arrangements
you make when Mr. Webb comes to speak to you on business. She won't be permitted
to look at him, of course."

"O – Okay, whatever you say. Are you sure I can't
ask her first? I feel kinda like I'm forcing her to go on a blind date."

"I'm not exactly asking, Mr. Barton. Although,
might I suggest she temper her expectations?"

"How do you mean? What expectations?"

"You know. A pretty young girl, asked to meet the
heir to a sizeable oil empire, and all. It can get away from a person. He is a
fragile man. Sickly, I mean. And emotionally, he's got a number of hang-ups. I
shouldn't be telling you this."

"Well, if he's trying to court my daughter, I
think you ought to be."

"I don't know if I'd call it courting, exactly.
He's just curious, I believe. Anyway," Gadsen sniffed and the paper from
earlier audibly crinkled again. "That will be all. I shouldn't say anything
more. Thank you for agreeing to this. It seems very important to Preston for
some reason. We'll see you this evening."

"Right. Of course, anything to help. Bye, then."
Ryan Barton hung up and stared straight ahead. A thousand questions circled in
his head, but the most important of them revolved around how Preston Webb could
have known anything about his daughter at all, and what he might want with her.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and then
called up to Alyssa.

"Hey, what's up?" She said, sticking her head
around the opening of the stairwell. "Did you call me? You look like you
saw...er...Dracula."

"Actually, I kinda feel like I did. I hope you
don't mind, Lyssie, but I think I just made a date for you."

"You did what? Does anyone know I'm in town
besides the people at the school and the gym? Does anyone my age even live
around here anymore?" She laughed, thinking about it and realizing no, probably
not.

Her dad opened his mouth, and it just hung there.

"Well, not the same age. I think he's a few years
older. Five maybe? Ten? I'm not sure, exactly."

"What did you do, daddy?" Lys stepped out of the
stairwell into the living room and crossed to the couch where her father lay.
"What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing dear. It was all really sudden."

"Well who is it? Who have you got me blind dating?
Last time I did one of these, I ended up with the guy for a year and a half."

"Blind date is actually a pretty apt way to
describe it. I don't know how to tell you this Lyssie, but I think I just set
you up with Preston Webb."

Her eyes got so big that a doe would say she had
Alyssa eyes.

"I...thanks!"

By the time he turned to respond, Alyssa had
vanished back up the stairs.

––––––––

"Is he here? Is that what that noise is outside? Was
that the car?" Alyssa was absolutely jiggling with excitement.

When she popped downstairs for the eighteenth time
in three hours, her dad was seated on the couch with a beer and a bag of
popcorn and had turned his chair to the stairwell.

"What are you doing?"

"This is better than any TV show I've ever seen,"
he said, grinning.

"Oh shut up!" she tossed one of her rolled up
socks at him, which bounced squarely off his head.

"Hey!"

"So was it? Was that his car?"

"No, no, he'll be here at exactly eight. And when
I say exactly, I mean it. He's never once been early, never once been late.
What are you so excited for? You don't even know the guy."

"I can't really say to be totally honest. But – oh
boy this is gonna sound stupid."

"Out with it, woman," he laughed, "I've admitted
all manner of horrible things to you over the years. Hell, just last night I
wept at you about your letter. There's no need for getting all ashamed of
something with me."

"I know. It's just kinda weird to say out loud
what's been running through my head."

"Don't feel like you have to say something if you
don't want to, just know that if you want, I'll listen to anything."

"That's why you're the best daddy ever," Lys said
as she crossed the room and sat down on the couch next to her dad. "Well, okay
here goes." She took a deep breath. "I've never been pursued before. A – And
I'm really, really lonely. Ever since Bret and I broke it off, it's like
there's been this hole in my chest."

"Pursued? Like by a man? You? What about Bret?"

"Nope," she shook her head. "Not even Bret. He was
so shy when we got together that I made all the moves. Well most of them
anyway. He would barely hold my hand unless I grabbed his first. Then back in
high school it was the same thing. I had a couple boyfriends – Drake and Paul –
but yeah, I made all the moves."

"Why do you think that is? Do ya scare 'em?" He
laughed, but only a little.

"I don't know. Maybe." She looked at her arms, her
legs. They were big. Not huge, but still, she was a strong girl and always had
been. The first order of business she took up when she moved back was getting
set up at the gym. "Do you think that's it? I don't think I'm big enough to be
scary or anything."

"You know how boys are, right? Easy to intimidate
and everything? If they perceive anything as even the remotest of remote
threats, they shut down no matter how much they might like someone or want to
go further with someone. They just shut down. I'm here to tell you, we don't
change a whole lot when we grow up. It was the same way with your mother. She
had to make all the moves at first, because I was a little nervous about making
the wrong ones."

She sat back on the couch and pushed her hair
behind her ear.

"It's funny that you say that. About mom, I mean.
I've just never thought of such a thing. I figured it was just because I wasn't
enough of a catch to get anyone worked up. Saying it out loud though sounds a
little whiny."

"No, that's not whiny, but it's also not true.
What is there about you for a guy not to like?"

Alyssa sat silently for a moment and then told her
dad that she didn't know, with a shrug.

"Right," he said. "If you can't think of any good
reason for someone to not like you, then it probably isn't worth worrying
about."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Still though, when I
can't figure something out, I always assume I'm missing some vital piece of
evidence. But then, maybe not. Maybe I just need to let things be the way they
are."

Ryan Barton stood up, stretched his back with his
fists planted on his hips, and laughed. "Yeah. It took me fifty something years
to figure that out, but I promise it makes everything easier."

"You got half an hour to finish getting all
prettied up for the oil man. I'll warn you though, you're probably not gonna see
much of him."

"That's okay," Lys said running back upstairs, "I
think I've seen him before. It was a few years ago, and he was a good bit away,
but I'm pretty sure it was him."

The rustling sounds and drawers pulling out and
pushing resumed, as did Alyssa's slightly off-key singing. Her dad took a long
swig and set his empty on the table with a sigh that turned into a chuckle. His
eyes fell on the small stack of ledger books piled on his desk. All of them
already meticulously entered into files that had never been sent.

Again he checked his watch in a way that had
become almost habit when waiting for Preston Webb to show up for a meeting.
Something about the perfect timing the man always displayed was a little
curious, and sometimes disarming. After a long run in a high school classroom
though, it was something to be treasured.

"I donno what you want, Preston," he said as he
sat back down and awaited either his daughter's next nervous traipse
downstairs, or the arrival of the strange man who refused to be seen. "But you
better treat her well. I know that much."

He laughed, nervously. "Of course, if you don't,
I'm not sure there's much I can do about it."