Chapter Six
EDEN flung open Jared McBride’s bedroom door. She didn’t care if she caught him in the nude. On the way up the stairs, she’d put strength in her spine, and she wasn’t going to waver in her resolve. “Mr. McBride,” she said, with her mouth in a hard line, “I want you out of my house now. This minute.”
He was sitting on his bed, his arm in the sling on top of the covers, the scratch on his cheek clearly visible. His blackened eye seemed to have grown bigger and darker in the last few hours. If she hadn’t known differently, she would have thought he’d used makeup on it.
“Yes, of course,” he said, then with grimaces of pain, he moved the cover off his legs and slowly got out of bed. “So you think Granville is all right, then?”
“Of course he’s all right!” she snapped. “Contrary to what you’re insinuating, I don’t hurt people who come to my house by invitation.”
He paused, his bare feet on the floor, his sweatpants pulled up to his calf. He had a bandage around his right ankle, and she could see what was clearly the oval pattern of teeth marks on his ankle.
“I meant that you feel sure that there’s no danger he’ll hurt you,” he said softly. “Sorry for spying on you, but it’s the habit of an old policeman. Protection. I knew you didn’t know Granville and he was here alone with you, so I was concerned. You’re a beautiful woman and you wouldn’t believe the things that I’ve seen men get up to when they’re alone with a beautiful woman.”
She knew he was lying; she could feel it in her bones. But no matter what was coming out of his mouth, his wounds were real—and they had been caused by her. As he stood up, the bite on his foot oozed blood. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to give herself strength, but it didn’t work. “All right. Get back in bed. You can stay here tonight.”
“No,” he said tiredly. “You’re right. I should get back to my own house. It’s not right that a man should stay here alone with an unmarried woman.”
At that she sat down on the chair by the wall. “Tell me, Mr. McBride, do you lie to everyone or is there something about me that brings out the worst in you?”
“I have no idea what you mean,” he said as he hobbled toward the old dresser. She hadn’t been in this room since the house had become hers, but she saw that Mrs. Farrington’s son hadn’t taken all the good pieces. The chest was pine and looked country, but she knew it was worth a lot of money. For a moment she could see Mrs. Farrington’s smile. She’d managed to save some good pieces from the greed of her son, and Eden wondered what else was in the house.
But first she had to deal with the nuisance of McBride. “I would like to know the truth about what you’re doing here in Arundel. Are you one of those treasure seekers? Are you looking for those lost jewels?”
“Sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.” He was on one foot now, hopping to the chair by the bed where his shoes and socks were.
“You’re no more a fisherman or a hunter than I am. Everything in your house is brand-new, as though you don’t want anyone to know who you are or where you came from.”
“House fire. Burned everything,” he said quickly, and Eden was sure that he was smiling.
“The night I saw you in this house you were snooping around. You weren’t looking for a fuse box. You were looking for something else. I called the electric company and they said that my lights are not on the same circuit as yours.”
“It was a mistake. I thought they were together.” He was sitting on the chair, his hands folded on his lap, and he was looking at her expectantly.
He’s enjoying this, she thought. Cat and mouse. But who was the cat and who was the mouse? “Where’s your table saw? I looked in your garage, and there’s nothing in there but a pickup truck. Brand-new. No table saw.”
“Power handsaw. The deputy must have misunderstood. The circular saw is under the workbench.”
“Shall we go look?”
Ostentatiously, as though in enormous pain, he stood up, using the chair as support. “Yes, of course. Let’s go look now.”
Eden threw up her hands in surrender. “Get back in bed,” she ordered. She knew she was being a wimp, knew that he was exaggerating his pain, but his foot was bleeding, courtesy of her teeth. “I guess you’re hungry,” she said in disgust.
“No, ma’am, I can do without food,” he said meekly as he hobbled to the bed. “But I will take you up on your offer of hospitality for another night, and I promise that I’ll leave tomorrow.”
“Good,” she said, and she left the room.
Eden wanted to kick herself. The man had the ability to make her forget all that she’d planned to say to him. She went downstairs to the kitchen, got the soup out of the refrigerator, and heated a bowl of it. She put leftover salad into another bowl, poured a big glass of sweet tea, then also poured him a glass of wine. He was probably taking pain medications so the wine would knock him out. At least she’d have one night without his snooping.
She carried the tray up to him, cursing herself every step of the way. He was back in bed, his head lolling around as though he were at death’s door. She put the tray on the end of the bed and turned to leave.
“Did you have a nice night?”
“No thanks to you,” she spat at him. Then, in spite of her best intentions, she turned on him. “How could you spy on us like that? Who do you think you are that you can snoop around my house with a flashlight, then lie to the police so that they believe every word you say? Do you know that they made fun of me? I come home to find a strange man in my house, I defend myself, yet I am made a laughingstock in this small town. I will never be able to live this down. Do you know what my life is going to be like because of you? I can’t understand why they believed you and not me.”
When he said nothing, she made her hands into fists and turned to leave the room.
“FBI,” he said, his mouth full.
She stopped where she was, then slowly turned back to him. “What?”
“I’m FBI. The sheriff knows that. If he hadn’t been told who I was, I’d have been thrown in jail until I rotted. People around here like you, something about your being ‘one of them.’ I hope that doesn’t mean you’re part of some cult that we’ll eventually have to clean out. We lose too many men in those raids.”
Eden was standing in the doorway, her mouth open, her eyes wide, too stunned to move.
“Your sheriff told me what he thought of me before he put out the story that I was a great hero and that you were a dingbat Yankee. Do I have that right? It seems that down here being a Yankee is worse than being a serial killer. Certainly worse than being an FBI agent working on a case. I think that if it had been up to your sheriff he would have put a few bullet holes in me to add to the bite wounds. You better sit down before you faint. Here.” He held up the glass of wine. “I think you need this. I can’t drink this with those pills the doctor gave me or I’ll pass out. Or was that your intention?” He took another slurp of soup and stopped talking.
Eyes wide, Eden walked across the room and took the wine from him, drinking it in one long chug. When she’d finished, she sat down on the end of his bed. “Why would the FBI be interested in me? There are no jewels.”
He gestured with a piece of French bread. “I don’t know anything about any jewels, but it sounds like a good story. Maybe you’ll tell me about it sometime. If you can get away from lover boy, that is. How long have you known Granville?”
“None of your business,” she said, looking at him. The wine was giving her courage. “I want to know why you’re here and what you want.”
“Do you know a man named Roger Applegate?”
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yes. If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to call the sheriff and tell him you’re a liar.”
Jared grinned. “He already knows that, but you’re right in that he’d love to have something to bring me in on. If he’d had his way he would have turned me over to the mob. If there’d been a mob, that is.”
She glared at him.
He smiled at her. “So who is Granville?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s my lawyer—which I’m sure you know. Why are you here? What were you looking for in my house?”
“I don’t know.” He took another bite, then took an infuriatingly long time chewing it. “I’ve been in this bed for many hours now and I’ve had a lot of time to think. I didn’t want this assignment, but my boss said I was the only one who could do it.”
“Do what? What is your assignment?”
“To seduce you into telling me what you know.”
“What?” Eden asked, aghast. “Seduce me?”
“Not necessarily seduce as you mean, just sweet-talk you, that sort of thing.”
“To find out what I know,” she said quietly. “Know about what?”
“That’s just it, we have no idea. And, you know what, I don’t think you do either. In the last hours I’ve had time to think and to listen. Yes, I sneaked down the stairs—at great pain, I might add—and I listened to every word that lover boy said to you. He’s besotted, isn’t he? But then I can understand him. Under different circumstances—” He looked her up and down until she glared at him. Smiling, he looked back at his soup.
“Anyway, after much thought, I decided that you didn’t know anything and that what with your having a boyfriend, I wasn’t going to be able to do this the way the boss wanted me to. I don’t think I’m your type. Even when my face isn’t black and blue, I don’t think I’m your type. I think you like, well, boring men, like Granville.”
“If that’s supposed to make me tell you that I don’t like men like Brad Granville and that I really like lying, snooping, creeping prevaricators like you, then it won’t work.”
Jared grinned at her and put his empty tray on the chair by the bed. “I’ve been watching you, Ms. Palmer, and I decided that you were going to be too difficult for me to put on an act of being the kind of man you liked just so I could find out about Applegate.”
“Who is this man Applegate?” Eden asked, exasperated. She wanted this all to be a dream. Tonight she’d been offered what could be a wonderful job, something that would turn her life around in a way that she’d never imagined, but now she was being told that the FBI wanted something from her.
“He’s a spy. Hand me my wallet, would you?” He motioned to the dresser.
Eden got up, got the wallet, handed it to him, then sat back down on the end of the bed. The way she was feeling she might faint, and she didn’t want to fall out of a chair onto the hard floor.
He handed her a photo and pointed to one of three men. The man was frowning, as though he didn’t want his photo taken. “Have you ever seen him before?”
She studied the picture. “No, at least not for any length of time. I can’t say that I never saw him on an elevator or working for someone or walking through my publishing house. But I’ve never known him in a way that would make me remember him.” She handed the photo back to him, and he carefully put it in his wallet, then put the wallet on the chair.
He fluffed his pillows, leaned back against them, and put his arms behind his head. “That’s what I thought, and I think you’re telling the truth.”
“Why would I lie? What does this man, this spy, have to do with me?”
“When he knew he was about to be caught, he ate a piece of paper with your name on it. We found it in his stomach after he was dead.”
At that Eden stood up. She was going to her own bedroom and in the morning she would laugh about this. It had all been a hilarious dream.
Jared caught her arm and pulled her back to the bed, where she sat on the edge of it, facing straight ahead, her eyes glazed.
“Why?” she whispered.
“That’s what we want to know. As you can imagine, you’ve been pretty thoroughly investigated, but we could find nothing in your past or your current life that would link you to a spy of Applegate’s caliber.”
She looked at him. “I was investigated by the FBI? And you found nothing? Am I supposed to be grateful for that?”
“Look, I know this is a shock to you, but I took a big chance when I told you about this. My telling you is a gesture of respect, actually. My boss wanted me to make you fall in love with me, then I was to try to get you to talk and tell me what you know. But I’ve read every word about you, and I’ve spent a whole day listening to you and watching you, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you don’t know anything. Or don’t know that you know it, that is. After much contemplation about this, I decided that I should just tell you what was going on and ask you to try to figure out what you know.”
“Respect?” Eden whispered. “Respect? You have respect for me? You’ve snooped and spied on me, and you’ve pretended to be much more injured than you are so I’d feel sorry for you. Where’s the respect in all that?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Jared said with a one-sided grin. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“No, it didn’t work.” She stood up. “I don’t know anything about a spy, and I don’t know anything that would cause a spy to know about me. Did it ever occur to any of you that I was an editor at a major publishing house? Maybe the man wanted to write a book and he was given my name as someone to send his manuscript to. Maybe a book editor is nothing in your world, but I can assure you that to a person who wants a book published we are only just below God.”
He looked at her in surprise. “As far as I know, no one ever thought of that. It’s a strong possibility.” He smiled at her, but she didn’t relent. “Look, Ms. Palmer, I didn’t want this job. I pleaded with my boss to not assign me this. I said I’d rather deal with drug addicts and the underworld than with a church-going woman. ‘Deliver me!’ I told him.”
With every word the man spoke, Eden’s nails cut deeper into her palms. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”
“Not doing a good job of it, am I?” he said, obviously trying for humor.
“No, you’re not doing well at it at all. I’m going to my own room now, Mr. McBride, and I want you to leave my house in the morning. In fact, I want you to vacate your house and leave Arundel. I don’t know anything about a spy and I don’t know anything that he’d want to know. My guess is that he believed that idiot jewel story and that’s what he was after. I don’t think that people spy for love of their own country. I think they do it for money, so the Farrington jewels would have appealed to a man like him.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So much for the thoroughness of FBI research,” Eden muttered as she glanced down at the bedside table. On the bottom shelf were several old paperbacks. Bending, she withdrew one and tossed it onto his lap. Missing Treasures was the title. “Since you’re a big-shot FBI man, I’ll tell you a little secret that not even the people of the other families in Arundel know. Mrs. Farrington’s ancestor sold the jewels to pay his debts so he could keep this house. To save his pride, he spread the rumor that the jewels were stolen. The story is a myth. Now, Mr. McBride, I’m going to my own room to do some research for a new job. Tomorrow, I want you to leave. If you’re not out of Arundel by six P.M., I’m going to the sheriff. I know the man. He used to play with my daughter when she was a baby. He’ll listen to me. Have I made myself clear?”
“Completely,” Jared said lightly. He was looking at the back of the book, which told about treasures that were missing around the United States, one of which was the Farrington sapphire necklace.
“I’ll call my boss and I’ll be out of here in the morning. No problem.” He looked back at her. “See you in the morning.”
When Eden got to her bedroom, she wanted to block out all that McBride had told her. How could such a lovely evening have turned so sour? FBI, indeed, she thought. Was she supposed to believe him? He had lied about everything else, so why was she expected to believe him now?
Obviously, the man was insane. That was the only explanation for what he’d told her. She was supposed to have been involved with a spy. When? was the first thing that came to her mind. When you’re a single mother, you’re father, mother, breadwinner. You’re everything to one or more children. There had been days when Eden had craved a mere fifteen minutes of time alone, but she couldn’t get it. She’d always had work to do, either the kind that earned money, or housework, or baby work. She’d always felt guilty that she hadn’t been able to play with Melissa as much as she would have liked, but she’d never had enough energy or time.
Yet here was some man saying that he thought she’d somehow, some way, at some time, become involved with a spy. Too, too ridiculous.
She tried to clear her mind of McBride and was glad that he was going to leave her house and the town tomorrow. She went to the pine cabinet in the corner of the bedroom. That she hadn’t even opened the cabinet reminded her that she needed to do a thorough exploration of the house and the attic. What was left and what was missing? Inside the cabinet were about half of the books that Mrs. Farrington had bought for her.
Smiling, Eden took out a book on Thomas Jefferson’s gardening records. Opening it, she saw her notes in the margins. It seemed so long ago now. When she last held this book, Melissa had been a baby, and she’d spent most of the summer outside in the gardens. Only in inclement weather had she worked on cataloging. During the winters and the hottest summer days, she’d stayed inside and studied the history of the Farrington family.
She put the book back on the shelf and withdrew another one. It was a children’s book about what it was like to live in the “Big House.” She couldn’t help herself as she sat down hard on the end of the bed and ran her hand over the book. How quickly children grew up! It seemed only days ago that she’d bought this book for her daughter. They’d read it together several times before that night when they’d had to run away and leave everything behind.
Eden looked at the old room, at the restored molding around the ceiling, at the fireplace surround that had been stripped of layers of paint, then perfectly repainted a classic off-white. Tears came to her eyes. Brad said that Mrs. Farrington had sold a valuable piece of family silver so she could have the house renovated for Eden. The love that went into that action made the tears run down Eden’s cheeks. Mrs. Farrington had not deserved the life she’d had. She deserved children who loved her and cared for her in her old age. Instead, she’d turned to strangers.
Wiping away her tears, Eden put the book back in the cabinet, glanced at the other titles, and wondered where the rest of the books were. Mrs. Farrington had purchased every book she thought Eden might possibly need. It had never been said, but Eden was sure that Mrs. Farrington’s dream was for Eden to someday be the head of the Arundel Historical Society. To the outside world, it meant nothing, but to the people of Arundel, it was a job of high prestige. To be elected to it by members of the founding families, a person had to show extensive knowledge of restoration techniques and the history of the town. Historical gardening was part of that required knowledge. Eden remembered her one and only visit to Williamsburg, paid for by Mrs. Farrington. While Eden was away, Mrs. Farrington had hired three young girls to babysit Melissa (Mrs. Farrington was terrified that she’d be left alone with the child), all so Eden could go to a gardening symposium on eighteenth-century techniques. When she wasn’t in class, she wandered about the old town and drank in the beauty of the buildings and the gardens.
Yawning, Eden closed the doors to the cabinet. “But then I was actually spying on my country,” she muttered.
She was suddenly very sleepy, so sleepy that she could hardly make it to the bathroom to put on her nightgown. Ten minutes later, she was asleep in the bed that had once belonged to generations of Farringtons.