Suspicions: A Twist of Fate\Tears of Pride (31 page)

“Sure. Don’t worry about it. After I’m done with the building I’d like to take a look at Oliver Lindstrom’s books,” Simmons replied.

“Wilder Investments has copies of the winery’s records. Didn’t Mr. Wilder give them to you?” Sheila was puzzled.

Simmons nodded curtly. “I’m not talking about Cascade Valley. I need your father’s
personal
records.”

“Why?”

Simmons let out an exasperated breath. He hadn’t expected any argument from this Lindstrom woman. Usually the crisp white card indicating that he worked for Wilder Investments gained him entrance to the most securely locked doors. But this lady was different. Even her sophisticated looks had surprised Anthony. He tried a different tactic with her. “Look, Ms. Lindstrom, it’s no skin off my nose one way or the other. I just thought that your father’s books might speed the investigation.” He saw a look of doubt cross her gray eyes, and he pressed his point home. “Besides which, those records might possibly clear your dad’s name.”

“But the police have checked—”

“They might have missed something. It’s my
job
to find what the police and the insurance company might have missed.”

“I don’t know…” But Anthony Simmons could tell that she would give him anything he wanted. He had found her weakness; he had read it in her startled eyes when he had mentioned her father’s reputation.

“It’s up to you,” he called over his shoulder as he headed for the fire-damaged wing.

Sheila hurried back to the car and found an impatient child fuming in the front seat. “Well?” Emily queried.

“He’s an investigator, sent by Grandpa’s business partners.”

“Then it’s okay if I talk to him?”

Sheila hesitated. Something about Anthony Simmons bothered her. “I guess so, but, try to stay out of his way.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s busy, honey. He’s here to do a job and you might bother him. If he wants to talk to you again, I’m sure that he’ll come up to the house.”

Partially placated, Emily scrambled out of the car. “Then I can play by the duck pond again?” she asked.

Sheila managed a smile for the eager young face that was cocked upward at her. “Sure you can, dumpling, but not now. Let’s wait until after dinner and I’ll go down with you.”

For the next few days it seemed to Sheila as if Anthony Simmons was forever underfoot. She couldn’t turn around without running into him and having to answer questions that seemed to have little to do with his investigation of the fire. She tried to tell herself that he was just doing a thorough job, for which she should be grateful, but she couldn’t help but feel that there was more than “leaving no stone unturned” to Anthony Simmons’s overly zealous pursuit of the truth. Maybe that was what kept nagging at the back of Sheila’s mind; she didn’t really believe that Simmons was looking for the truth. He seemed to her to be more interested in finding a scapegoat for the fire. The pointed way he asked the questions, the quickly raised brown eyebrows, and his cynical remarks didn’t live up to the professionalism Sheila had expected. The fact that Simmons had been sent by Noah himself bothered Sheila even more than the short man’s unprofessional attitude.

Simmons left within the week, and Sheila breathed a long sigh of relief. He hadn’t explained what he had pieced together, and Sheila hadn’t asked. She would rather hear Simmons’s theories from Noah or even Ben Wilder. The less she had to do with a cockroach like Simmons, the better.

She waited to hear from Noah and was disappointed. Another week passed and school was out for the summer. She had turned in the final grades to the school administration and both she and Emily were home, able to spend a few weeks alone together until Emily left to spend four weeks with her father. In the custody arrangement, Jeff was allowed partial custody of his child. If he had wanted to see Emily more frequently, Sheila wouldn’t have objected; after all, Emily
was
his only child. However, the four weeks he took Emily in the summer were generally more than he could stand. Jeff Coleridge wasn’t cut out to be a father—or a husband.

Every summer, because of Emily, Sheila was forced to think about her ex-husband and the five years of her marriage. Fortunately, as time had worn on, the pain she had suffered at Jeff’s hands diminished, and this year, because of the fire, Sheila had other thoughts to occupy her mind. This year Cascade Valley and its reopening were her main concern.

Sheila saw the situation concerning the winery: the clock was ticking and time was running out. With the passing of each successive day, she became more anxious about the business. Surely Noah had Simmons’s report, and certainly the insurance company had come to some sort of settlement. Why hadn’t she been notified? If only Sheila knew where she stood with Wilder Investments and the insurance company, she could begin to make plans for the fall harvest. As it was, her hands were tied. The fate of Cascade Valley Winery rested in the palms of Noah Wilder, and he hadn’t had the decency to call.

The one time she had tried to reach Noah, she hadn’t gotten through, and her stubborn pride forbade her from leaving her name or phone number. Surely Noah must know how desperate she was.

She tried another angle, but the telephone call to Jonas Fielding was a disappointment. Sheila had hoped that the attorney could prevail where she had failed, but it seemed that both the insurance company and Wilder Investments were stalling. Why? What had Anthony Simmons found out?

Despite her hopes otherwise, Sheila began to understand that there was no way Cascade Valley could put its label on this year’s harvest. It seemed there was no other option but to sell this year’s grapes to a competitive firm. For the first time in the nearly twenty years in which the Lindstrom name had been a part of the winery, Cascade Valley would be unable to bottle or ferment any wine. Not only would the winery’s reputation be further tarnished, but also the potential income from the crop would be considerably reduced. It looked as if she would have to renew her contract to teach and counsel at the community college at least for another year, or until the winery was operating again—if ever. Maybe Noah had been right when he suggested that running a winery was too big a job for a woman, she thought idly to herself as she stacked her father’s personal records back in the scarred oak desk. Or maybe it was more than that. Perhaps Noah was stalling for time to add just the right incentive, a little more pressure, all the while knowing that she couldn’t possibly save the winery without his help. Would he be so callous as to wait her out, backing her into a trap she couldn’t possibly avoid?

She slammed the rolltop desk shut with a bang. What was she thinking? Noah would never use her for his own benefit; he couldn’t. She walked crisply into the kitchen and tried to ignore her suspicions. What had Jonas said about Wilder Investments and the reputation of Ben Wilder’s firm? Something about forcing businesses on the brink of bankruptcy to their knees with the influence of money. Wasn’t that how Ben Wilder had amassed his wealth, by purchasing failing businesses and, one way or another, turning them into profitable ventures for Wilder Investments?

Her growing suspicion crawled coldly up her spine. Without thinking, she picked up the telephone receiver and dialed the number for Wilder Investments. It was nearly five, but with any luck, Sheila would be able to catch Noah at the office. The pride that had kept her from calling him seemed small when compared with the grim fact that he might be using each passing day as a means of squeezing her out of ownership of the winery.

“Wilder Investments,” answered a pleasant, if bored, voice.

“Yes…I would like to speak to Noah Wilder, please,” Sheila said boldly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wilder is out for the day.”

“Do you know where I could reach him? It’s very important.”

“I’m sorry, miss. As far as I know Mr. Wilder is out of town for the weekend and can’t be reached until Monday. If you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll leave a message for him to call you back.”

“No, thank you…. I’ll try next week.”

Sheila replaced the receiver and tried to think clearly. Why hadn’t he called? All of his questions and interest in the winery seemed to have passed with the one night she had shared with him. A flush rose in her cheeks as she considered the fact that the interest he had shown in the winery was probably little more than polite concern displayed as part of his seduction; a seduction that had trapped her completely. Unfortunately, it looked as if her entire trip to Seattle had been a waste. Not only had she lost precious time in her battle to save the winery, but she had also been played for a fool. Willingly she had begun to give her heart to a man who considered her only a passing interest that had faded with the dawn.

“What’s for dinner?” Emily asked as she breezed into the kitchen and grabbed a cookie from the jar.

“Beef Stroganoff,” Sheila replied.

“That all?”

“No. I’m making a spinach salad, and if you don’t demolish them all before dinner, we’ll have cookies for dessert.”

Emily, who was beginning to reach into the cookie jar again, quickly withdrew her hand. “I can take a hint,” she mumbled.

“Good. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour. I’ll call you when it’s time to come in.”

Emily hesitated and rubbed her fingers in distracted circles on the countertop. Sheila had begun to put water on the stove for boiling the noodles, but she stopped, noticing instead the droop in Emily’s slim shoulders. “Is something wrong?”

Emily’s head snapped up, and she took a deep breath. “I don’t want to go to Daddy’s place this summer,” she announced.

“Oh, sure you do,” Sheila said with a smile. “You love being with Daddy.”

“No, I don’t.” Emily’s slim arms crossed defiantly over her small chest. “And…I bet he doesn’t want me to come.”

“That’s ridiculous. Your father loves you very much.”

“Will you come with me?”

Sheila turned from the stove and faced her daughter. “If you want me to, I’ll take you to Spokane, but you know that your dad likes to come and get you himself.”

“You mean you’re not going to stay with me?”

“I can’t, honey; you know that.”

“But maybe if you call Daddy and tell him you don’t want me to go, he might understand.”

“Emily, what brought all of this on?” Sheila asked, placing her arm over Emily’s shoulders.

The young girl shrugged. “I just don’t want to go.”

“Why don’t you think about it for a couple of weeks? You’re still going to be here for a little while longer. Let’s see how it goes and then we’ll make a decision—okay?”

Emily’s downcast eyes lifted to look out the kitchen window. “I think someone’s coming.”

Sheila turned her attention to the open window and the sound of a car’s rapidly approaching engine. “You’re right,” she agreed, trying to focus on the sporty vehicle winding its way up the long gravel drive. As the silver car crested the final hill, Sheila felt her breath catch in her throat. The car belonged to Noah.

She was both ecstatic and filled with dread. Noah must have come here with his answer about the winery.

Chapter 7

The lump in Sheila’s throat swelled as she watched Noah’s car approach.

“Who’s that?” Emily asked, squinting into the sunset and straining to get a better view of the silver vehicle as she looked through the window. Noah braked the Volvo to a halt and got out of the car. He looked tired and hot. He was wearing tan corduroy pants and a loosely knit ivory sweater. The sleeves were pushed up over his forearms to display tanned skin and tight muscles. His dark hair was slightly windblown from the drive, and the shadow of his beard was visible against his olive skin. His mouth, set in a firm, hard line, tightened as the other passenger in the car said something that caught his attention. Sheila felt her pulse begin to race at the sight of him. No other man had ever affected her so deeply.

“Mom?” Emily asked, catching Sheila’s attention. “Do you know that guy?”

Sheila managed a frail smile for her daughter. “I’m sorry, Em,” she replied, realizing that she had ignored Emily’s previous question. “Yes, I know him. His name is Noah Wilder, and he’s in charge of the company that owns most of the winery.”

“A big shot, huh?”

Sheila laughed. “I think his title is ‘temporary president,’ or something of the sort. Let’s not call him a big shot. Okay?”

“If you say so.”

“Just keep in mind that he is important. His decision on the winery is critical.” Emily’s puzzled expression was not lost on Sheila. “I’ll explain more about him later. Right now let’s go and meet him at the door.” Sheila grabbed Emily’s hand and hurried to the front entrance, hoping to forestall any more of Emily’s questions about Noah.

When she opened the door, Sheila stood face-to-face with the one man who had touched her to the core, and she felt her poise beginning to slip. Noah wasn’t alone. With him was a boy; his son, Sheila guessed. The resemblance between the man and teenager was strong. Though Sean’s hair was blond, his skin was dark like his father’s, and his eyes were the same piercing blue. Those blue eyes regarded Sheila intently with a deep-seated, undisguised hostility.

“I tried the bell, but I didn’t hear it ring,” Noah explained.

“It hasn’t worked since the fire.”

Noah seemed a little uncomfortable, but when his eyes found Sheila’s, he held her gaze and spoke softly. “Earlier, you invited me to come and see the winery for myself. You asked me to spend a weekend here, and I’ve decided that there’s no time like the present. Does the offer still stand?”

“Now? This weekend?” she asked.

“If it wouldn’t inconvenience you….”

Sheila was caught in the power of his gaze, the warmth and invitation in his eyes. She had to force herself to smile and keep her voice cool and professional. “Of course you’re welcome. I’m sure if you stay and see the magnitude of the problem, you’ll understand why we have to begin rebuilding the winery as soon as we can.”

“I’m sure,” he agreed, dismissing the subject. “I’d like you to meet my son, Sean.”

Sheila’s smile spread as she turned her attention to the boy at Noah’s side. She had always had a way with kids, especially teenagers. She genuinely liked them, and it showed in the interest in her eyes. “Hi, Sean. How are you?”

“Fine,” was the clipped, succinct reply. His expression of hostility didn’t diminish.

Sheila didn’t press the issue. “This is Emily.” She touched Emily’s shoulders fondly.

Noah bent his knees so he could talk to Emily at her level. “It’s nice to meet you, Emily.” He extended his hand, and when Emily took hold of it, he gave the girl a warm handshake. “I bet you’re a big help to your mom, aren’t you?”

“I guess so,” Emily mumbled before retrieving her hand and stepping backward to put some distance between herself and the forceful man.

“We were just about to have dinner,” Sheila stated as Noah rose back to his full height. “Could you join us?”

Sean rolled his eyes and looked away. Noah spoke for the two of them. “If it’s not too much trouble. I should have called before I left the office, but I was running late, so I just headed out of town.” The lie slipped so easily off his tongue that Noah had no trouble smiling disarmingly down at her. His conscience twinged, but he ignored it.

“It’s fine,” Sheila was saying emphatically. “I always cook as if I’m expecting the army.” She moved out of the doorway. “Come in. I still have a few things to do to get dinner on the table. Or, if you would prefer, you can look around the grounds. I’ll give you a guided tour later.”

“I’ll wait. I think I’d prefer a
personal
tour.”

Sheila felt the heat climbing up her throat. Somehow she managed to keep her voice level. “What about you, Sean? Dinner won’t be ready for half an hour. You’re welcome to come into the house; I’ve got several books and magazines you might be interested in, or you can do whatever you want out here.”

“I don’t like to read,” Sean replied curtly, but after receiving a dark and admonishing glance from his father, he amended his brusque response with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’ll stay outside.”

Emily followed Sheila and Noah inside. Sheila busied herself with the finishing touches for the meal, and Noah lounged against the counter, watching her as she worked. Emily hovered near Sheila, uncertain about the upcoming evening.

“You out of school for the year?” Noah asked the girl.

“Uh-huh.”

Sheila could feel Emily’s embarrassment. Ever since Sheila’s divorce from Jeff, Emily was shy with men to the point of wariness, especially any man who showed attention to her mother. To ease Emily’s discomfort, Sheila changed the subject. “Dinner’s going to take a little longer than I thought, Emily. Why don’t you take a couple of cookies and—” she paused to inspect the contents of the refrigerator “—some of this pop outside for you and Sean.”

Emily’s wide green eyes lit up. “Really? Before dinner?”

“Why not?” Sheila asked with a smile and handed the cans of ginger ale to her daughter. “Tonight’s special.”

Emily balanced the cans against her chest while she reached into the cookie jar and withdrew a handful of macaroons. “Great,” she whispered, hardly believing her luck at receiving goodies before a meal.

When the back door slammed shut and Emily could be heard in the distance, Noah moved from his position against the counter to stand behind Sheila. She could sense his presence behind her, but she tried to maintain her interest in the sauce she was preparing. It was impossible. His hands wrapped around her waist and drew her close to him. She closed her eyes as she felt his breath rustle the hair at the nape of her neck.

“Is it?” he asked.

“What?”

“Is tonight special?” His words caressed the air.

She attempted to misread him. “Of course it is. It’s not often Emily and I have guests for dinner.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Sheila sighed and turned the burner to the lowest setting. She rotated in Noah’s arms and tried to step backward. He didn’t let go. “I knew what you meant.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do, Noah. I’m not exactly a naive innocent. I think you were the one that pointed it out to me. I assume you came here to talk about the winery…”

“And?” His half smile showed just a seductive hint of white, straight teeth, and a gleam of fascination flickered in his blue eyes.

“And you probably expect to take up where we left off.” Sheila’s heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

“The thought did cross my mind.”

“You’re wicked,” she accused teasingly.

“No, I wouldn’t say that…
captivated
would be a better word.”

“Oh, Noah,” Sheila murmured. His words had a magical effect upon her, and she felt unable to resist the spell of tenderness he was weaving. Though she attempted to deny it, she still found something enigmatic and intimately alluring in Noah. A crazy feeling of exhilaration climbed steadily up her spine as she realized that he wanted to be with her. Perhaps she had misjudged him. Perhaps despite everything holding them apart, there was a chance that they could find happiness with each other.

“You look great,” he said. His eyes caressed her face and dropped to the tempting white column of her throat.

“In jeans and an old blouse?”

“In anything….” The pressure of his hands against her back drew her close to him; so close that she could feel the strength of his legs where they touched hers and the pressure of his chest against her breasts. “As I recall, you look incredible in absolutely nothing as well.” His head lowered and his lips captured hers in a warm kiss that evoked passionate memories. In one instant she remembered his embrace in the rain and his touch in the silent afterglow.

Without thinking she entwined her arms around Noah’s neck and parted her lips under the soft pressure of his mouth. His tongue rimmed her lips, and all of the doubts of the last weeks fled with the promise of his kiss. “I’ve missed you,” he groaned when he lifted his head and pulled her roughly against him. “God, how I’ve missed you.”

At the sound of his confession, Sheila felt tears begin to pool in her eyes. “I’ve missed you, too,” she murmured into his sweater. Her voice caught, and she felt him stiffen. Slowly he released her.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“It’s been a long day…” she hedged. How could she begin to explain the storm of emotions within her each time he held her closely?

“Is it a bad time for you? I should have called before I came racing over here.”

“No…everything’s fine.
Really.
”

“Is dinner ready yet?” Emily called just as she was entering the room.

Sheila managed to brush her tears aside. “Just about. You can help by setting the table.”

“In the dining room?” Emily asked as she reached in the drawer for silverware.

“No. We’ll have to eat in here.” Sheila withdrew a linen tablecloth and put it on the small kitchen table. Looking skeptically at the makeshift dining arrangements, her mouth pulled into a pouty frown. “It’s not exactly elegant, but it will have to do. The dining room is still a mess.”

“From the fire?” Noah asked.

“And the water that was used to put out the flames. I’ll show you everything after we eat. Maybe then you’ll appreciate my position about the winery.”

The door opened and shut with a resonating thud. Sean strode into the room wearing cut-off jeans, a sloppy red sweatshirt and a look of bored indifference. His face was shaped similarly to his father’s, except that the sharp planes of Noah’s face were softer on his son. There was still a hint of boyish naiveté in Sean that he obviously tried to hide under a guise of insolence.

“Time to eat?” Sean asked, directing his question to his father.

“I think you can sit down.”

“Good.” Sean slid into the nearest chair and avoided looking at Sheila. His fingers tapped restlessly on the edge of the table. Emily took a seat next to Sean and began to chatter endlessly about a hike she hoped to take with him. Sean responded with adolescent nonchalance about the prospect of spending more time with the eager eight-year-old, but Sheila’s practiced eye saw the interest he was trying to hide. Three years of counseling teenagers had helped her understand both the kids and their motives.

The dinner was eaten under a thin veil of civility. Sheila had hoped that as the meal progressed the strain of the impromptu get-together would fade and a comfortable feeling of familiarity would evolve. She had been wrong. Before the dinner was over, even Emily could feel the tension building between Sean and Sheila.

Sheila attempted to bridge the gap. “Are you out of school for the summer?” she asked Sean.

Silence. Sean continued to wolf down his food.

She tried another ploy. “Would you like anything else to eat? How about a roll?”

Nothing. Noah’s anger had been simmering throughout the meal, but he had decided not to discipline his son in front of Sheila and Emily. Sean’s rude behavior forced the issue.

“Sheila asked you a question, Sean,” he stated sternly.

“Yeah…I heard.”

“Then could you be polite enough to answer.”

Sean bristled. “Sure.” His cool blue eyes sought Sheila’s. “Naw…I don’t want another roll.” He turned his gaze back to his father. “Satisfied?”

Emily’s eyes widened as father and son squared off.

“No, I’m not. I don’t expect much from you, son, but I do think you can be civil.”

“Why?” Sean demanded.

“Out of respect.”

“For what?
Her?
” He cast his disdainful gaze at Sheila.

“Cut it out!” Noah stated tersely.

Sean ignored him. “Look, Dad, I don’t need this.”

“What you need is to learn about acting with just a modicum of decency and common courtesy.” A muscle in Noah’s jaw began to tense.

“Back off, Dad. What I don’t need is some lady trying to be my mother!”

“Don’t worry about that, Sean,” Sheila interjected. “I have no intention of trying to become your mother.” With that, she turned her attention back to her dinner and finished eating. Sean cast a skeptical glance in her direction, and Noah’s dark eyebrows cocked. However, he didn’t interfere. When finished with her meal, Sheila again looked at Sean. “No, I’m sure you’ve done very well without a mother for the past sixteen years, and I, for one, have no intention of changing that.” She rained her most disarming smile upon the confused boy. “Now, is there anything else I can get you?”

“No!”

“Good.” Sheila placed her napkin on the table. “Then, if we’re all finished, you can clear the table while Emily gets the dessert.”

Sean’s face fell and his blue eyes sought those of his father, entreating Noah to help him. “Good idea,” Noah agreed amicably, but the glint of determination in his eyes demanded that his son obey.

Sheila wasn’t finished. She began stacking the plates and handing them to Sean. “Just put the dishes on the counter near the sink, and don’t worry about washing them, I’ll take care of that later. Let’s see, the leftovers go in the refrigerator. Use the plastic wrap to cover them. Can you handle that?”

Sean’s hot retort was thwarted by his father’s stern glare. Rather than press the issue, Sean scowled and nodded curtly.