Legacy (39 page)

I shook my head no, then waited. No doubt he was going to recount some past injury Father had done him, something I would never be able to prove.

'I see. Well, it goes back twenty years - nearly as far back as you are old. In fact, as I recall, you were not even a year old at the time.'

'You seem to have a fairly accurate memory of my age,' I said, keeping my voice disinterested. I had to keep reminding myself that this man was not to be trusted, that he was dangerous.

He tapped the ashes from his cigar. 'As you will see, I have good reason to remember that detail. Back then in Grampian lumber was not yet the big business it is now. Your father and I were just getting started. We each had our own mill, but we were friendly then. The two of us got the Boom Company started by workin' together, in fact. Each of us knew that there was a lot to be made in lumber.'

A pause; he leaned back in the chair, reflective. 'In Grampian at that time there was a woman. Let me tell you her story. Her husband was workin' very hard, very long hours, meetin' important people. She was expected to meet them, too, to entertain, to charm them, bring them around to her husband's camp. Well, she was good at it, though she really hadn't been brought up that way. She had a plain-folks charm. Wasn't fancy, didn't put on airs. But she was mighty attractive.

'Well, to make a long story short, she charmed one fellow so well that he fell for her. Couldn't get her off his mind. Seemed like every time he saw her he didn't want to leave. And one day he learned that she felt the same way about him. It didn't matter that they were both married; they still felt that way. And what happened then is what men and women usually do when they . . . '

'Mr. Graybar, are you trying to tell me that my father seduced your wife?'

He shook his head. 'That woman was Claire Rawlings, Catherine. And I was the man. And after a decent wait, I aim to marry Claire if she's willing.'

He spoke so calmly; that deep, resonant voice made it all seem almost the right thing to do, so sensible, so concerned! It took a moment or two for the statement to register, for the things I had heard Mother and Father say about Brad to come back. 'After twenty years,' Mother had said. And I thought about that threatening manner Father always took with her whenever Brad's name came up ... It had to be true.

But even as I sank down for a moment at the shock of what my mother had done, my anger began to boil. All these years that Brad had fought, hadn't he made Mother suffer, too? Hadn't she cried along with me the night Father told us about losing Legacy? Hadn't Mother made her choice? And now . . .

I stood up, furious. 'You dare to talk about this to me, with my Father hardly even buried? A "decent wait", you said. What kind of decency is it to talk about profits and business and then slander my mother . . .'

'Ask her yourself if you don't believe me. I can show you her letters.'

'I don't care! What kind of man would marry a woman for profit! What kind of man would walk in to discuss my mother's marriage and flaunt his mistress in my face!'

I strode to the doors and pulled them open. Steven was behind me, his face grim. I would have slapped him if he had come any closer, but instead I fairly shouted. 'And what kind of man would say that this was all going to be "purely business"? Who would let me come up here, bring me up here, knowing I was going to have to listen to . . . such insolence! I never want to set eyes on you again! And don't think that I'll be back because I need your help. I don't. I have plenty of money now, and I intend to use it to bur—'

'Your goddamned temper!' His voice cut like a knife. 'You're so . . .'

'You told me I'd be glad to hear it!'

' . . . blind! You think . . .'

I slammed the doors behind me, and then I was running down the carpeted hall, my skirts swirling around me, barely conscious of the astonished look on the face of Brad's mistress, who had been waiting on the stairs and had probably listened to every word. At the end of the hall, the door to the turret was open. As I pushed at the heavy outside doors I heard Steven's voice, harsh with fury.

'Then go! And be damned if I'll ever . . .'

The voice faded. I was outside. The gravel under my feet, the dark green woods before me, even the blue afternoon sky seemed cold, intrusive, unfeeling. Yet, paradoxically, I welcomed it. The hardness gave me a strange kind of comfort as my own will to fight surged up and gave me strength. If this was the way things were in this wicked world, then so be it! I knew I could fight; I knew I could win. I had been a fool to let Steven tempt me, a fool to give myself to him the way I had!

But I was done with softness now! With a chilling certainty, I knew that I would never give in to Steven again. I had my empire now. My work would give me satisfaction, comfort . . . and, yes, revenge. At the edge of the clearing, just before the road started its downward slope through the woods, I turned for one last look at Graybar's Castle. The western sun glittered on its leaded glass; the yellow stones of the walls and towers stood awash with light. The polished wood and brass of the huge turret doors shone rich and brilliant. Let them enjoy it while they can, I thought.

Then I set off down the road, determined to reach home before sundown.

The next few days were, if anything, filled with more activity than previous ones. There were the payrolls to be met; the hundreds of buyers and sellers to meet or correspond with; the multitude of small decisions to be made by the managers and to be checked, during this beginning period, by me. My new hard spirit of combat served me well then. Those who were inclined to question orders sensed that I was not about to tolerate insubordination, and those who might have tried to put on condescending airs because I was a woman were soon brought up short. My orders were harsh and to the point when they had to be. More than one man came into my office strutting and insolent, only to leave red-faced and crestfallen.

That first week I made my first major decision, as well. I had sent for Malory to come down from Eagles Mere with a full report on the hotel and how things stood. He was candid. Father's murder, widely reported by the papers, had ruined the opening. Even though Malory had put together a smooth-working staff, only a few guests had come. Most of the reservations for the month of July had been cancelled, and there had been only one or two letters to inquire about future visits. Meanwhile, there was the staff to be fed and paid, and we were stuck with the large supplies of food that had been brought in to feed what we had thought would be'a multitude of guests.

I decided to close the hotel for this season. We would turn Eagles Mere into a lumber camp instead. We would take some of the best men from each of the two camps and the mill and send them up on the train to live in the staff quarters. On either side of the railroad track, they could cut down whatever looked to be promising timber. Each day's lumber would be brought back to Grampian on the train. We would save money on raftsmen's wages and on boom storage fees - and we would get the logs sooner. At a time when we were hard-pressed for lumber to fill our orders; this was an idea that had to work.

I worked very hard during those early days. I rose before dawn most mornings so that I could be at the mill or the hotel or the gas works or wherever I was to visit before work began. I liked to set an example. The word quickly spread that there was no telling when or where I might arrive next, and while this made some of my managers unhappy, it seemed to do wonders for the morale of the men in the ranks. They became quite fond of me, or so it seemed from their manner when I appeared. Of course, my days were not all spent simply on tour. Most of the time, in fact, I spent in the office going over sales and promotional schemes, expenses, orders, and the like. I also talked with my assistants and local officials about what else Rawlings enterprises could do for the Grampian area. There was talk of an amusement park out on one of the small islands in the river, about new gas and water lines to expand the city limits, and, of course, about Brad Graybar's finances. For a man who had notes coming due soon, he was spending lavishly, or so they said at the stock exchange. Rumor had it that Brad had invested enough for a month's payroll within just the past week. Evidently he was very sure of himself.

I tried to work hard enough so that I would not think about Steven. I spent nights poring over figures, dictating instructions, so that when it came time to retire I was too exhausted to think. But the dreams were there. Visions of Steven would drift into my mind after I had closed my eyes, or I would awaken in the morning with the thought of him still fresh in my mind. I told myself that I would get over it. I willed him away from my waking hours. For a few days I half-expected that he would make some sort of attempt to talk to me and apologize, so I allowed myself the luxury of imagining how he would act and the harsh and cutting words I would use to reject him.

But after a week had gone by, I still had not heard from Steven. It was then that I began to think seriously of how I would get Legacy away from the Graybars.

It was also a week to the day after I had last seen Steven that I received a note from Justin McKay.

His divorce was final now, and he wanted to speak with me.

The note took me by surprise, and I hesitated before making an answer. Was it wise to think of Justin when I was so completely occupied with business matters? Other than my vague fantasies of how I would reject Steven, I had not permitted myself to think of another man, even though each day seemed to bring yet another suitor who fancied he was talented and charming enough to both captivate me and take care of my business affairs in the bargain.

Well, I thought, as I jotted down a reply, I could take care of myself. I was Sam Rawlings's daughter, and I knew how to deal with fortune hunters. And, thank goodness, Justin had a fortune of his own.

One evening the next week I was at my desk in what had been Father's office, going over some accounts, when Jared brought in the card of Dr. McKay. I held it for a moment, wondering.

'He's in the vestibule, Miss. I told him that you were at work.'

'That's all right, Jared.' I put the card back on to Jared's silver tray and smiled. 'Show him into the east parlor and tell him I'll join him presently.'

I looked at the account books and thought for some reason of that terrible afternoon in Justin's office when I had stood before his desk and heard him say that I was not to come to his clinic again. And now he was waiting for me downstairs. There would be certain satisfaction in letting him wait there for a time, I thought, remembering, too, the abrupt way he had treated me at the train depot. But, then, what would that accomplish? He was here now, and even though I did not like to admit it, I still did not fully know how I felt about Justin McKay. Nor, really, did I know how he felt about me. There would be nothing gained by waiting any longer to find out.

He was standing at the French windows, watching the twilight fade above the shadows of the garden. When he heard the door open behind him, he turned.

'Catherine.' The blue eyes were clear, his lean features open and tranquil. I felt more at ease almost at once.

'I'm glad to see you here, Justin.'

He came to me then and took my hand. 'I wanted to be with you sooner. I hope you knew that. In fact, there were times when I wished that I'd not left you at all. I can still remember one morning in Philadelphia when I read in the newspaper about your father.'

'Let's not talk of that, all right?' The words came out easily, comfortably. I could say what I felt to Justin. I began to be even more certain that I had done the right thing in allowing him to call on me.

Chapter Sixteen

One evening at the end of August Mother came into my room while I was at my dressing table. I was brushing my hair, getting ready after the day's work for a dinner party Mother was giving for Justin and me. On my left hand glittered a very large diamond. Justin and I had announced our engagement two days before.

Mother looked well. She had just returned from a month at the home of friends on the beach at Newport, and the salt air and sun had given her cheeks a healthy glow. Tonight she wore a pale green silk dress with a wrapper of white cotton lace. This was the first time she had not worn black since Father's death.