- -
- 100%
- +
“I have friends who live on Lake Geneva. They’ve told me to stop by any time I’m in the area. Why don’t I go visit them for a couple of hours, then I’ll swing back by here and take you to the library. We can talk after that. It shouldn’t take long today. Just a few preliminaries.”
He’d wanted to do a lot more than that. He’d wanted to dig right in and feel out where she stood on a number of necessary changes. He already had a few proposals in mind. But looking into that pale face and seeing the edge of tiredness she couldn’t disguise made him willing to wait.
“Why just a few preliminaries?” she questioned, latching on to the key word. “I’d rather get on with this, wouldn’t you? Progress as far as we can.”
“Well, because...”
“I’m perfectly all right!” she insisted. “I simply forgot to eat lunch, that’s all. Then when Joe said what he did...I had a perfect right to be upset! Joe knew it. That’s why he didn’t want to tell me.”
“Do you faint every time you get upset?”
“I didn’t faint!”
“You came close to it.”
“But I didn’t actually faint!” Her denial was low and surprisingly fierce. She took a breath. “You’ve said you think we can make this new library work. I’m going to hold you to that, Mr. Fairmont. I’m willing to put in whatever amount of time it takes. You should be, too.”
“That’s what an architect does, Miss—”
“Good. Now, you go visit your friends. I think that’s an excellent idea. Then come back and we’ll get started on the plans.”
Robert continued to look at her, a smile pulling at his lips. She might appear to be fragile, but he could see that she was a force to be reckoned with when she spoke on behalf of the library. It might have been her child, a living, breathing entity she would give her all to protect. Attack it and you attacked her.
“Whatever you say,” he murmured dryly.
Her cheeks took on a rosy hue and she quickly let herself out of the car. He watched as she walked, her back straight, to the tiny porch that fronted the house, then she disappeared inside.
Robert’s gaze stayed on the door for a moment before moving away. Her house was one of the more neatly kept homes on the block. The white paint was fresh, the shrubs trimmed and numerous flowers bloomed in their beds. The look was pleasing to the eye.
He restarted the car. If he was going to stop in on Harry and June, he needed to find a telephone. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy a simple ride in the country if they weren’t at home. But he felt he should give them ample warning. He backed out of the drive, and after another glance at the unprepossessing house Elise lived in, accelerated down the street.
* * *
ROBERT TURNED AWAY from the pay phone at the service station. His friends were at home and had begged him to visit. It was months since they’d heard from him, they’d complained. And they were right. During term, there was always so much to do in the design studio, working with his students, challenging them to grow and to see beyond what was expected. Students of architecture, particularly during the last weeks of a semester, were some of the most overworked scholars on campus. Some practically lived in the studio in order to meet their deadlines. Accordingly, their teachers devoted long hours to the subject as well—a fact that Robert wouldn’t change. He loved working with his students, conveying knowledge and receiving in turn intellectual stimulation.
Yet between his work at the university and his work with the firm, little time was left to keep up social obligations. Friends sometimes became lost in the shuffle. Which was one of the reasons why he had never married. He didn’t feel his life-style would be fair to a wife. He had heeded perhaps a little too well the advice of an admired professor—that an architect should never encumber himself prematurely with outside obligations. Translated, that meant a wife, children and a mortgage. Not if the architect intended to travel extensively or to immerse himself in all the work involved in starting his own practice. It was advice he himself had given students over the years, advice that he still believed. Only sometimes did he wonder if he might have carried it a little too far.
Robert shrugged the thought away. He paid for the gasoline that had been pumped into his car and set off along the highway that would take him to Lake Geneva. But instead of looking forward to the enjoyment he would soon experience upon seeing his old friends, he found his thoughts returning to the Tyler library. Not the new one. The old one.
Robert had loved old buildings all his life, particularly old homes. To him, they were the key to another age—an age that in many ways was much more graceful than the present. As a child, he had lived in just such a house, creating fantasy worlds from basement to attic. He had always dreamed of owning one himself, but as the years passed, his dream faded. Still, he loved to look at such structures and to poke around in them when given the chance.
His business in Tyler afforded just such an opportunity. The old library, though decried by its users, was interesting to him. His guess was that it had been built at or near the turn of the century, and judging from the exterior and interior style, influenced by the revolution in architecture that had taken place around that time. It was the period when fellow Wisconsinite Frank Lloyd Wright had begun to evolve the personal style that so greatly influenced twentieth-century architecture.
Robert’s two short investigations of the building had whetted his appetite to see more. Both times he’d been distracted by other things: the water damage to the books, his second appointment with the librarian. He wanted more time to look around. And he saw no reason why, as he worked closely with Elise Ferguson, he couldn’t take it.
* * *
THE DOORBELL RANG and Elise went to answer it. Butterflies were aflight in her stomach. The fluttering increased when she saw that Robert Fairmont stood on the porch. She’d known all along it would be him, but reality seemed more potent than her thoughts.
“Hello,” she said, striving to keep her voice circumspect.
“Hello,” he returned, a smile both in his eyes and on his lips.
She stepped back, wordlessly inviting him inside. He moved past her into the formal front room. She saw his gaze quickly take in his surroundings—the heavy furniture and curtains, the ornate rug. Repeatedly over the years since their parents’ death Elise had wanted to redecorate, but Bea had stayed her hand. Bea didn’t welcome change. She wanted everything to remain as it was, no matter how out-of-date or ungainly.
Elise cleared her throat. “You, uh, saw your friends?”
“Yes. You look...rested.”
Elise shifted uneasily. She wanted to tell him about the numerous telephone calls she’d received from people who wanted to know how she felt. They’d come from patrons who had been at the library, from the library staff, from people who hadn’t been there but who had heard the news through Tyler’s lightning-quick grapevine. In fact, she’d spent more time on the phone reassuring everyone than she had doing anything else. But she couldn’t make herself tell him. Having him inside her home completely unnerved her. Turned her into the equivalent of a tongue-tied sixteen-year-old.
“Elise! Elise!” Bea’s irritated repetition of her name came just before she wheeled into the room. When she saw Robert Fairmont, she came to an abrupt stop. “Who are you?” she demanded, looking him up and down. She didn’t seem particularly pleased with what she saw.
Elise hurried into speech. “Bea, this is Robert Fairmont, the architect who’s going to help us with the library. I’ve told you about him, remember?” She hated to think what her sister might say. With Bea, you never knew. “Professor Fairmont...my sister, Bea.”
Robert Fairmont moved closer to Bea and held out his hand. “Call me Robert,” he offered.
Bea looked at his hand as if it contained poison. “Yes,” she said tartly. “I know who you are.”
Robert let his hand fall slowly back to his side.
An awkward moment passed before Bea turned her attention to Elise. “Elise, I want you to take that darned telephone off the hook! It’s rung every few minutes all afternoon. I can’t rest, I can’t think. If it rings again, it’s going to drive me mad!”
To emphasize her point, the telephone rang that very moment. Bea groaned while Elise dashed to answer it. Only a part of Elise’s attention was devoted to the caller, however, as she continued to listen to the conversation that took place between her sister and Robert Fairmont.
“Elise gave everyone a fright today,” she heard him say. “People are concerned about her.”
“I don’t see why,” Bea replied grumpily. “She’s as strong as an ox.”
“It seems she’s been under a lot of strain recently.”
Bea cocked her head to one side. “Are you trying to tell me you know my sister better than I do? You may be a fine-and-fancy architect in the town you come from, but I guarantee that you don’t know a thing about...”
Elise hurriedly broke off with the caller, saying, “I’m perfectly fine, really. In fact, I’m going back to the library this afternoon. Listen, Annabelle, I really do have to go. Do you mind if I...?” She murmured a couple of polite yeses and hung up. Then she moved quickly back across the room. “That was Annabelle,” she said to Bea, hoping to break the tension that existed between her sister and Robert Fairmont. She knew all the signals for when Bea didn’t like someone, and those flags were flying at full mast. “Our postmistress,” she explained to Robert. “She just wanted to see how I was.” The words she had been unable to find earlier now rushed out of her in a whirl. “She heard it from someone who came into the post office. They’d heard it from someone who heard it from someone else who had been in the library. It’s truly amazing. I think I’ve had a call from almost everyone in town!”
Robert’s gaze traveled from Bea to her. Elise couldn’t tell what he thought. Then a smile slowly lightened his features. “You’re a very lucky woman,” he said, “to have so many people care about you.”
Elise surrendered to the charm of his smile, but Bea seemed totally immune. She harrumphed crossly, “They’re all a bunch of silly people who don’t have anything better to do with their time.”
Elise was embarrassed by Bea’s hateful demeanor. The inhabitants of Tyler knew her; they were accustomed to her sharp tongue. But Robert Fairmont was a guest in their town, in their home. He wouldn’t understand. “Maybe we should go back to the library,” she suggested. “I truly would like to show everyone that I’m—”
“It was my understanding that you were home for the day!” Bea snapped, interrupting her.
“No, Bea,” Elise explained. “I told you I was going back.”
“Because of him?” Bea glanced spitefully at the professor.
“No, because I have to. I have work to do, Bea. You know that.”
“But you almost fainted. What if you do it again?”
Elise knew that Bea wasn’t voicing concern for her wellbeing. In her own way her sister loved her, but it wasn’t in Bea to think of another person first. Particularly not Elise.
“Then I’ll sit down and wait for it to be over!” Elise returned shortly. She took a bracing breath. “I’ll be home no later than six-thirty. I promise.”
She reached for her purse, glad of her forethought in setting it near the door. Then she turned to Robert. “Are you ready?” she asked with brittle control.
Robert nodded, but before moving away, he addressed Bea. “It was nice to meet you. Maybe next time it will be under better circumstances.” He was making an excuse for her ill humor.
Bea snapped. “I don’t see any reason why there should be a next time.”
Pain filled Elise’s heart as she wondered what Bea’s life, not to mention her own, would have been like if Bea hadn’t fallen on the icy steps. Blindly, she walked toward the door. Robert was just behind her and, sensing her need, he reached out to lightly touch her back, guiding her toward the exit.
Gratitude instantly took the place of pain, and not even Bea’s acerbic reminder, “Six-thirty, Elise!” could steal away the warmth that temporarily surrounded her being.
* * *
BEA SAT ALONE in the house, grumbling to herself. She was always alone, or so it seemed. She should be used to it. But it didn’t make the hours pass any faster. In Elise’s opinion, as long as she had her television and her books, her magazines and her dolls, she would be all right. Then Elise could go out into the world with a free conscience and not have to think about her. Leave her all alone except for the marmalade cat...who at present wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
“Buttercup!” Bea called, snapping her fingers near the floor. “Come to Bea, Buttercup!” she called again, but it did no good. The silly cat was sleeping somewhere, probably somewhere that she shouldn’t.
Bea straightened, drawing her hand back into her lap. She sighed and looked at the closed front door. Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t like that man. Not one little bit. She knew danger when she saw it, and he was definitely danger! Elise practically quivered every time he looked at her. She might not be completely aware of it herself, but Bea was.
Her mind went back to another man, years before, who had come calling on Elise. Elise had been twenty...no, nineteen. How many years ago was that? Thirty-four. My God, Bea thought dully. That meant she’d been in this chair for... Bea let her chin drop. Forty-two years!
A moment later she lifted her hands to examine them. The fingers were still long and narrow, tapering to delicate oval nails at the tips. But the skin had lost a great deal of its elasticity and age spots had begun to appear.
Her lips tightened. She was growing old. And what did she have to show for it? Nothing.
With a strength of purpose that would have surprised Elise had she been there, Bea pushed her chair over to the hall mirror, where she arranged herself in the best possible light. What she saw reflected was a drab-looking woman shrunk into an invalid’s chair. Dried-up; prune-faced. She tried to smile, but the muscles protested and her effort came off as more of a leer. She moved impatiently away.
No, she didn’t like that man, that fancy architecture professor. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, or the way he looked at Elise...which were two entirely different matters. Bea would have to be vigilant if she didn’t want to be left alone. Would have to watch Elise for any threatening signs.
Buttercup sidled up to the chair and, purring, rubbed her yellow side along the rubber rim of the right wheel.
“Ah! So there you are!” Bea exclaimed. She reached down to scoop the cat onto her lap. Buttercup responded by arching her back. “Yes,” Bea said a few moments later, still absently stroking a silky neck. “I must be extremely watchful.”
* * *
THE MERCEDES DIDN’T SEEM nearly as alien as it had on her previous ride. Still, Elise could not relax. She glanced at Robert Fairmont as he competently negotiated the Tyler streets. He didn’t look in the least disturbed, but she was. Bea’s rudeness had been unforgivable. She tried to apologize.
“I’m sorry that Bea... She didn’t really mean...” Elise took a breath and started over. “Bea can be extremely difficult at times.”
Robert glanced at her. “There’s no need to apologize.”
Elise shook her head. “No, I believe there is. She says things, does things. I understand because I live with her. But she forgets that other people don’t understand.”
“Has she been in a wheelchair long?”
“Most of her life.”
Robert was silent. Elise knew that her answer had abolished another excuse. A person unused to physical impairment could be forgiven for lashing out. Bea didn’t have that defense.
Elise’s hands tightened in her lap. “I can’t blame her, though. If it were me...”
How many times over the years had she wished that it had been her instead of Bea who had fallen on the steps? Even now she wished that she could trade places with her. Of course, she doubted that Bea would have cared for her in quite the same way. She’d probably be a resident of Worthington House now, possibly even placed in the skilled-care facility. She’d be one of the people she brought books to on a weekly basis. There would be no library as she knew it....
A light touch brought Elise from her reverie. She jumped, blinking.
Robert smiled. “You were a thousand miles away,” he said, replacing his hand on the steering wheel.
Elise hadn’t meant to woolgather. She resumed her apology. “I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t anything personal. Bea’s just...like that.” Yet Elise was afraid that it was very much personal. Bea disliked certain people more than others. Her reasoning was a mystery.
“It didn’t bother me,” he said firmly.
Elise sighed.
Soon the library came into view. Several cars were parked out front. Robert maneuvered the Mercedes into a slot next to a pickup. When they got out, instead of immediately coming to join Elise on the sidewalk, Robert opened the back door of the car and leaned inside to extract a long tube from the back seat. Elise knew what it contained: the plans for the new library.
He closed the door and walked up to her. Jiggling the tube, he said, “If you’re not up to this, say so. And any time you get tired, say so as well.”
“I’m perfectly—”
“—All right. I know. But it sounds as if this town tried to kill you with kindness when you were supposed to be resting. You’re little better off now than you were earlier. Except maybe you’ve eaten. You have eaten, haven’t you?”
Elise nodded as she fell into step at his side. She was very much aware of him. Aware of how handsome he was, of the lean vitality of his body, of the power of his personality. It felt good to be walking next to him; it felt good that he seemed to care about her well-being.
“I forgot to ask,” he said as they started up the library’s front steps. “Did you hear anything more about the leak?”
“Joe said the plumber would come right away. Hopefully, he’s been and gone. That way Joe can finish. Otherwise, it could take weeks.”
“And you need the room.”
“We always need the room.”
Pauline was the first to see them. She looked up from a stack of returned books and quickly came to take Elise’s hand. “Are you sure you should be doing this?” she asked. “I know what you said, but this has been such a hard week...for everyone, but for you in particular.” She turned to Robert. “Elise is one of our town treasures. We don’t quite know how we’d get along without her. The library would collapse—that’s a fact!”
“Of course I’m sure,” Elise answered brusquely. Pauline made her sound like a monument, like something pigeons sat on! Which wasn’t a description she wanted Robert Fairmont to remember when he...if he!...ever thought of her. “How is Joe getting along?” she asked, to deflect any further unfortunate comments. “Have you checked recently?”
Pauline shook her head as Delia rushed over.
“Oh, Elise!” It was obvious Delia had found another cause for excitement. “We were all so worried, even after Pauline called you. We thought about calling Dr. Baron, but we decided not to.”
Jeffrey Baron was the only grandson of Judson Ingalls, the most prominent man in Tyler, and the great-grandson of Alberta Ingalls, for whom the library was named. He also happened to be Elise’s doctor.
“Thank heaven for that, at least,” Elise murmured. She indicated Robert. “Would one of you please show Professor Fairmont to my office? I think I should check with Joe myself. I—I won’t be long.” The assurance had been directed to Robert, but she didn’t look at him.
She felt ridiculous as she hurried off toward the Biography Room. He knew what she was doing, of course. Running away. But she wasn’t accustomed to such overpowering attention. Even warned to expect it, she found it hard to take. She had merely come close to passing out, for heaven’s sake. She hadn’t actually done it. Neither had she expired! Yet from the way everyone behaved, it was as if they expected her to correct that particular oversight at any given moment!
She moved briskly into the work area, not pausing even when she came upon the soft canvas tarps that had been spread over much of the floor and draped over the built-in bookcases along the walls. The hole in the ceiling was larger than ever, but the edges were cut smooth in preparation for repair.
As was his habit, Joe sang snatches of an opera as he worked, but he stopped the instant he saw Elise. From the look of concern that instantly clouded his handsome features, Elise knew he was about to question her precipitate decision to return to work, so she quickly deflected him by saying, “I take it the plumber has already been here?” She held her shoulders straight, her chin high. She wanted to look her usual efficient self. She nodded to Lars, who had pulled off his hat and now held it rather self-consciously in front of his gangly, adolescent body.
Joe blinked and swallowed the words he had been about to say. “Uh—yes. He, uh...he says everything is fine as far as he can tell. It was a leak along the same pipe, at another joint. He replaced that bit and checked the fittings as far as he could. He didn’t see any other problems, but he says he can’t guarantee a thing. The system’s so old.”
The plumber had said almost those exact words to Elise when she’d called to thank him for coming out to fix the first leak. Yet she hadn’t expected trouble again so quickly. She moved closer to the hole and peered up, then backed away. “Do you think you’ll be finished today?” she asked.
“Sure thing,” Joe said. “Except for the paint. I’ll stop by tomorrow and take care of that.”
Elise frowned. “Don’t you normally take Saturdays off? I’m sure I remember Susannah saying that you and she and Gina were going to do something special.”
He grinned. “This won’t take half an hour. Then it will be done and you won’t have to worry anymore.”
Confronted with Joe’s noble effort to ease her way, Elise could not show misgivings. She smiled brightly, just as he wanted her to. But as she left the room to return to her office, her cheerful smile crumbled. It would take a great deal more than a half hour’s worth of paint to fix everything she had to worry about.
CHAPTER FOUR
“THERE ARE TWO WAYS to cut costs,” Robert said as he and Elise studied the plans. “We can make the library smaller, reduce the overall size. Or we can downscale the quality of the materials we use. I recommend we try a combination of the two.” He had thrown his jacket over the arm of her chair, his only concession to comfort.
The set of blueprints unrolled on Elise’s cleared desk was an exact copy of the set the town council had on file. Elise knew almost every line by heart from her work with the other architect for the better part of three years.
She tilted her head, frowning. “I’m not sure what you mean by ‘downscale the quality.’ How? What do you mean?”
Robert grinned. “It’s the difference between a gold toilet seat and a brass one. Does it really make any difference to the user?”
Elise stared at him, then she, too, started to grin.
He continued. “I’m exaggerating, but you see what I mean. Your town council went first class on this structure...which is fine. People want to be proud of their public buildings, which they think reflect the community. Chambers of Commerce love this attitude. They put pictures of first-class buildings in all their brochures to get people to visit here, to move here. Look! See what a progressive place Tyler is? Look at the new library we’ve built ourselves. Gold toilet seats!”
Elise started to giggle.
Robert’s eyes twinkled. “There are degrees of quality. My job is to help you decide just exactly how much quality you want and can afford and where you want to put it.” He turned to a booklet of photocopied specifications. “For example, these windows. This particular brand costs a small fortune. There’s no reason why something less expensive can’t work equally as well. And these crown moldings. Same thing. I know where we can find something just as good for a lot less. Then we get to the library plan itself....” He looked at her. “See what I mean?”