Part 16 (1/2)

I TRIED TO PRETEND THAT DYLAN PLATTE'S REMARK WAS A joke, but my laugh was hollow. ”I haven't gotten to the point where I have to create my own headlines,” I said.

Graham's smile was deceiving. His blue eyes were hard as glacier ice. ”That's not entirely true, is it? You had quite a big story when my father was shot in front of your eyes.”

I gasped. ”That's a terrible thing to say! It ruined my life!”

Graham slowly shook his head. ”Did you ever think what it did to us?”

Before I could respond, our waitress delivered the round of drinks. Only Kelsey had abstained from an alcoholic beverage. She'd ordered a Diet c.o.ke and stared warily at her soda, as if she suspected I'd had it spiked with a.r.s.enic.

I started to lift the small flutelike gla.s.s of Drambuie but realized that my hands were shaking. ”I never knew you. How could I understand...what you felt?” My voice cracked.

Sophia swirled her brandy snifter with a languid hand. ”I gather my father-in-law wasn't anxious for his children to meet you. Unfortunately, I didn't know Mr. Cavanaugh. He died before I met Graham.”

The hostility that surrounded me stiffened my backbone. I was tempted to retaliate with my own hurtful words, but escalating the situation seemed foolish. I'd only reinforce the conflict of interest that I'd felt from the start.

”Look,” I said, folding my hands in an effort to steady them, ”I don't want to go to war over any of this. Let's get one thing straight once and for all. I am not selling the Advocate to you or to anyone else.”

Graham leaned back in his chair. ”Well. I guess that concludes our meeting.”

I was finally able to pick up my gla.s.s without spilling any of the liquor. ”So I a.s.sume you won't be moving here after all,” I said, looking at both Dylan and Kelsey. She turned away from me and gazed questioningly at her husband.

”Oh, I think we probably will,” Dylan said, taking Kelsey's hand in his. ”We're going to go through the house tomorrow. Apparently, the present owners want to do some fixing up before they show it to us.”

I could imagine the disarray at Casa de Bronska. A shovel and a match would probably have been the best way to clean up Ed and s.h.i.+rley's vulgar mansion. What I couldn't imagine was Kelsey and Dylan's move to Alpine.

”Why?” I asked, not bothering to disguise my incredulity.

”Change,” Dylan replied easily. ”The Bay Area is obsolete, overcrowded and overpriced. We want some room to roam. A house like the Bronskys' costs a fortune in San Francisco. The Bronskys are asking 1.1 mil, but we figure they'll take 850 and kiss our feet in grat.i.tude. I'm told the place needs work.”

Work. Not a word Ed had ever understood. ”Good luck,” I said, focusing on my drink instead of the company I was keeping. The silence that followed seemed uncomfortable to me-but I sensed that no one else felt that way. They were enjoying themselves at my expense. Except, perhaps, for Kelsey, who struck me as being withdrawn from the others even though her husband still held her hand. ”I'm going now,” I announced and took a last, fiery sip of Drambuie. ”Thanks for the drink.”

”Of course,” Graham said softly.

I got up with my usual lack of grace, though at least I didn't drop anything, trip, or walk into a wall. I heard a woman's throaty laugh-Sophia's, I was sure-as I moved out of the dining area. As soon as I got into the Honda, I regretted my hasty retreat. There were dozens of questions I wanted to ask that foursome, and not just about the allegedly unknown murder victim. Did Kelsey and Dylan have children? What about the child she'd been expecting before she got married? Had she and Graham sold Tom's condo on n.o.b Hill in San Francisco or the house in Pacific Heights? What were their memories of their father? Or their mother? Had Tom talked to them about the marriage we were planning before he was killed? Did they know or care about their half brother, Adam?

I sat in the parking lot for several minutes, watching the sky darken as night descended over the mountains. Just before I was about to turn the key in the ignition, I was startled by a tap on the window of the pa.s.senger door. Anxiously, I looked to see who was trying to get my attention.

”Open up, Emma,” Leo called, looking a bit sheepish.

I unlocked the door. My ad manager scooted inside. ”I was afraid you'd already left,” he said.

”You were at the lodge?” I asked, still feeling unnerved.

He nodded. ”I was spying from the bar. I wanted to see what those Cavanaugh kids looked like now that they're grown up. You came in just before I was going to leave. They didn't recognize me, of course. But then I wasn't trying to be seen.”

”Carlos should have told me you were there when I talked to him at the front desk,” I said.

”Carlos is fairly new on the job. He doesn't recognize me.” Leo rolled down the window and took out his cigarettes. ”Do you mind?”

”No,” I said, opening my own window halfway. ”What did you think?”

Leo lighted his cigarette before he answered. ”I don't know. Graham's changed the most, gone from gawky boy to manly man. Kelsey seems to have lost her bounce.”

”She bounced?”

”She was what I'd call perky,” he said. ”Graham was more reticent, sometimes a little surly. But he was at that awkward age, between twelve and twenty. Frankly, I'm not even sure how old those kids were when I last saw them. A permanent alcoholic haze will do that to a fellow.” Leo s.h.i.+fted in his seat to look at me more closely. ”Are you okay? I had the feeling your get-together wasn't a bundle of fun.”

I laughed weakly. ”True. I don't know what I expected, but they put me on the defensive from the start.”

”Not surprising. It seems that Dylan Platte is the little group's driving force.”

”I'm not sure,” I said. ”He seems to be, but Graham's no slouch, and his wife, Sophia, strikes me as fairly tough. Kelsey's the only one who doesn't quite fit in. I have to admit, I wonder if she's inherited some bad genes from Sandra.”

”It's possible.” Leo tapped ash into the small tray under the dashboard. ”Did they badger you about selling the paper?”

”They tried.” I shrugged. ”I told them to forget it.”

”They won't.”

”What do you mean?”

”I have a feeling they're in this for the long haul,” Leo said. ”The waitress who was serving them-Britney, Brandy, Brianna, whatever-told me she'd overheard them talking about moving to Alpine. I a.s.sume that means Ed still has a buyer.”

I sighed. ”Dylan insists they're going ahead with the deal.” I turned to look Leo in the eye. ”Do they think they can wear me down with a war of attrition?”

”That's my guess,” he replied. ”I suppose Dylan and Kelsey figure that if they're living here and they keep upping the ante, eventually you'll give in. You're not at retirement age, of course, but down the road, in a couple of years, you might start thinking about it.”

I made a face. ”Not likely. What would I do with myself? The only close relatives I have are Adam and Ben. Neither of them is around here and probably never will be. I won't ever have grandchildren. I'm not a joiner. I have no intentions of writing the Great American Novel. My whole life is the Advocate.” I clapped my hand to my forehead. ”Oh, G.o.d! That makes me sound pathetic!”

Leo grinned. ”That's probably what they're counting on. Then they can rescue you and be heroes. Hey,” he said, tugging on the sleeve of my cardigan, ”don't ever let the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds see you sweat.”

I smiled at Leo. ”I'm not sweating. But that whole encounter temporarily unhinged me. I thought I was doing okay, putting Tom into some quiet corner of my mind after all this time. Then his kids come along and...” I made a helpless gesture.

”Neither of them is much like Tom,” Leo remarked. ”If you didn't know who they were, you'd never guess they were related. Kelsey looks kind of like her mother, but Graham doesn't take after either of his parents.”

”Adam doesn't look like me,” I pointed out.

”No, he doesn't. He's mostly Tom.” Leo took another puff off his cigarette and shook his head. ”My kids look like both their mother and me, though the gene pool actually improved. You never can tell what goes into a kid's makeup. Throwbacks, sometimes.” He opened the pa.s.senger door. ”I'd better let you get home. Tomorrow's deadline day. You'll need all your strength.”

”You will, too,” I said. ”Thanks, Leo.”

”Sure.” He patted my back and got out of the car but leaned down before shutting the door. ”Hey, just remember Walsh's Famous Maxim-*Things can always get worse.'”

I laughed. Sort of. ”I know.”

Of course Leo was right.

I didn't call Vida after I returned from the ski lodge. I was too tired, and couldn't cope with a rehash of my unsettling encounter with what I was beginning to think of as the Cavanaugh Gang.