Read Online Summer on the Cape by J.M. Bronston - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J.M. Bronston
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and, with one elbow propped up on the table in front of him, he rested his forehead against his open hand, his eyes closed in frustration. Allie knew he was trying to get control of himself.
“No, Allie,” he said at last. His voice was very quiet. “It’s not a picture of me.”
She started to say something, but Zach held up his hand warningly. “Just shut up, will you!” His eyes were still closed and Allie’s words froze on her lips. “Just do me a favor and shut up for a minute.”
She waited silently while Zach took a few very deep breaths. At last he opened his eyes and looked at her intently for a long time. She waited for him to speak.
“Now, listen, Allie,” he said at last. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing. I just called Adam and told him to call you off. I told him, if he wants to deal with me, he can deal with me directly, without sending his spies up here.” Allie’s mouth dropped open in obvious astonishment and Zach held up his hand again to stop her. “I know,” he said. “I know.
“I told him to do his own damned spying. Not to send you around to do it for him.” Zach shook his head, a rueful expression on his face. A short laugh burst from his lips. “He didn’t know what I was talking about.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, either,” Allie said. Her guilty conscience was beginning to be crowded by some real anger of her own. “Suppose you explain it to me.”
“Adam’s going to explain it to you. You’ll be back in New York in a few days, for your show. He promised me he’ll talk to you, tell you what’s behind all of this.” Zach’s face was grim. “Believe me, Allie, if he doesn’t, you’re going to hear about it from me and my version will be a little different from his.” Through tight lips, he added, “And now, tell me, Allie, what the hell were you doing sneaking around my house?” The muscle in his jaw was working, and he was peering at her through narrowed eyes, as though he was prepared to be lied to.
“I wasn’t ‘sneaking.’ I just drove by accidentally.” Allie thought that sounded pretty lame, but she didn’t know how to explain her motives, which now seemed thin, even to her, sitting there in Zach’s kitchen. “It’s an attractive house, it was early, I figured everyone would be sleeping, I just wanted to look around . . .” The words died on her lips. She was avoiding his eyes, feeling ashamed of herself.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sleeping, and you weren’t exactly right out in the open.” Zach made no effort to conceal the fact that he didn’t believe a word she was saying. “So now, Allie,” he said, his face still tight and angry, “I’ve had enough of this conversation. I want you to leave. I have things to think about and I want you out of here.”
He didn’t see her to the door, which was okay with her. She got out of the house and down the driveway as fast as she could while still maintaining at least a shred of her dignity, glad to get to the Cherokee, which now felt like an old friend. Without a single backward glance, she hightailed it back to the main road, pursued hotly by her guilty conscience.
Later, at her own kitchen table, over a second cup of coffee, she carefully reviewed her morning’s discoveries. One thing she was sure of: there was no Mrs. Eliot living in that house. In fact, it was clear to Allie that no woman had lived there for a long time. “If ever I saw the home of a man who lives alone,” she announced to her coffee cup, “that house on the hill is it.”
She decided that the story of Zach Eliot was turning out to be a lot more complex than she had anticipated.
She also decided, ruefully, that her own behavior had been inexcusable. Tiptoeing around his house as though she were casing the joint! What is it about that man? she asked herself. I do the damnedest things when he’s around! She couldn’t make much sense of what had happened, but she was sure of one
“No, Allie,” he said at last. His voice was very quiet. “It’s not a picture of me.”
She started to say something, but Zach held up his hand warningly. “Just shut up, will you!” His eyes were still closed and Allie’s words froze on her lips. “Just do me a favor and shut up for a minute.”
She waited silently while Zach took a few very deep breaths. At last he opened his eyes and looked at her intently for a long time. She waited for him to speak.
“Now, listen, Allie,” he said at last. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing. I just called Adam and told him to call you off. I told him, if he wants to deal with me, he can deal with me directly, without sending his spies up here.” Allie’s mouth dropped open in obvious astonishment and Zach held up his hand again to stop her. “I know,” he said. “I know.
“I told him to do his own damned spying. Not to send you around to do it for him.” Zach shook his head, a rueful expression on his face. A short laugh burst from his lips. “He didn’t know what I was talking about.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, either,” Allie said. Her guilty conscience was beginning to be crowded by some real anger of her own. “Suppose you explain it to me.”
“Adam’s going to explain it to you. You’ll be back in New York in a few days, for your show. He promised me he’ll talk to you, tell you what’s behind all of this.” Zach’s face was grim. “Believe me, Allie, if he doesn’t, you’re going to hear about it from me and my version will be a little different from his.” Through tight lips, he added, “And now, tell me, Allie, what the hell were you doing sneaking around my house?” The muscle in his jaw was working, and he was peering at her through narrowed eyes, as though he was prepared to be lied to.
“I wasn’t ‘sneaking.’ I just drove by accidentally.” Allie thought that sounded pretty lame, but she didn’t know how to explain her motives, which now seemed thin, even to her, sitting there in Zach’s kitchen. “It’s an attractive house, it was early, I figured everyone would be sleeping, I just wanted to look around . . .” The words died on her lips. She was avoiding his eyes, feeling ashamed of herself.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sleeping, and you weren’t exactly right out in the open.” Zach made no effort to conceal the fact that he didn’t believe a word she was saying. “So now, Allie,” he said, his face still tight and angry, “I’ve had enough of this conversation. I want you to leave. I have things to think about and I want you out of here.”
He didn’t see her to the door, which was okay with her. She got out of the house and down the driveway as fast as she could while still maintaining at least a shred of her dignity, glad to get to the Cherokee, which now felt like an old friend. Without a single backward glance, she hightailed it back to the main road, pursued hotly by her guilty conscience.
Later, at her own kitchen table, over a second cup of coffee, she carefully reviewed her morning’s discoveries. One thing she was sure of: there was no Mrs. Eliot living in that house. In fact, it was clear to Allie that no woman had lived there for a long time. “If ever I saw the home of a man who lives alone,” she announced to her coffee cup, “that house on the hill is it.”
She decided that the story of Zach Eliot was turning out to be a lot more complex than she had anticipated.
She also decided, ruefully, that her own behavior had been inexcusable. Tiptoeing around his house as though she were casing the joint! What is it about that man? she asked herself. I do the damnedest things when he’s around! She couldn’t make much sense of what had happened, but she was sure of one
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