The Beach House. Mary Monroe Alice

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СКАЧАТЬ at the thought of the awkward condolences and embarrassing explanations. But it was unlike her to put anything off. She needed to know. Now. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone again and dialed Richard’s private number, even while wondering if the number was still valid.

      “Good morning. Richard Selby’s office.”

      Cara’s breath caught and she took a second to collect herself. “Hello, Trish. This is Cara Rutledge.”

      “Well, hello! We’ve been wondering where you’ve been hiding!”

      She felt the sting of that comment prickle her cheeks. “I wasn’t aware that I was hiding,” she replied with frost.

      “Oh,” the secretary stumbled, her tone becoming more subdued. “It’s just that Mr. Selby tried calling you several times. He’s been worried about you.”

      “Has he? There was no need. My mother called and I had to leave town immediately to see her. It was urgent family business.” She wanted the word out that there was an emergency she had to tend to rather than that Cara Rutledge was hiding under some bush.

      “I hope she’s all right.”

      “Everything is fine now, thank you.” She skipped a beat then said as casually as she could, “I take it that Mr. Selby is still with the agency?”

      Trish laughed. It was a high trill sound ringing with astonishment. “Of course he is. In fact, he’s been promoted! Didn’t you know? Mr. Selby is now Vice President Senior Attorney.”

      Cara’s heart beat faster as suspicion did its nasty job of creating doubt in her mind. It wasn’t hard to create a diabolical picture. Richard worked in legal. He knew the mass layoffs were coming. And yet, he was promoted. That could only mean he was on the inside track on this one. He had to have known that her name was on the list. And knowing, he had left town while the dirty work was done. He let her go to the chopping block with a blindfold on.

      Why, the sneaky little coward, she thought, wringing the telephone cord in her fingers. And on her birthday…

      “Miss Rutledge?”

      “What wonderful news for him,” she replied in an even voice. “I imagine you must be very busy moving offices.”

      “Oh, no, we’re done now. The announcement wasn’t made until this week but we’ve known for a while and had time to get things packed up. It’s just that, you know, Mr. Selby didn’t want to make it official until after the layoffs and all. Oh—” She paused, suddenly unsure, as though just remembering that Cara had been one of the unfortunate ones. “I’m sorry, Miss Rutledge. But, of course, you knew all this.” There was a nervous question in the statement.

      “Of course,” Cara replied. She needed to get some air.

      “He’s in a meeting now, but I know he wants to talk to you. Like I said, he’s been calling and calling. I’ll be sure to tell him you’re out of town. Is there a number where he can reach you?”

      Cara paused, feeling his betrayal claw at her heart. “No,” she replied calmly. “I’ll be on the road. Please tell him I’ll call him later. At home,” she added before hanging up, preserving the illusion that they were still on intimate terms.

      At the moment, that’s all it was. A hideous illusion. All the closeness, confidences, hours that they’d shared for four years were meaningless! She felt her fury rise up to howl in her chest. Her hand hovered over the phone as she fought the urge to call his home and leave a blistering message on that infernal machine.

      She closed her hand in a fist and let it slide to rest at her side. It would be a cold day in hell before she called that bastard again. Even hurt and angry, she wasn’t so stupid that she’d leave a message like that recorded for him to play over to whoever with a chuckle and a drink. He’d be patted on the back for the narrow escape he made. Cara’s eyes squeezed at the pain. How could he have done this to her? She’d never known he could be so ruthless—at least not with her. No, they weren’t married, but she’d thought of them as a team. She recalled the many, happy occasions they’d spent together. There had been so many good memories, so many intimacies shared.

      She sat on the hard-backed chair and stared out at the sea, overcome.

      Then she laughed.

      It started out as a short bark of laughter, a guffaw of disbelief blended with self-mockery then rolled into a choppy cadence of laughs. Oh, it was all too pathetic! This was the real top-aroo. What hellish astrological event brought all these catastrophes her way? She’d turned forty, lost her job and now her boyfriend had dumped her. If she had a dog, it would have been run over by a car. What was next?

      Lord, she thought as her laughing ended, she had to get out of this house or she’d go mad. She rose quickly from the chair, eager to put distance between herself and the phone, the beach house, everything. Outside, the late morning sun was high and cast a glistening sheen across the ocean.

      She grabbed one of her mother’s broad-rimmed straw hats from a basket by the door and lunged into the sunshine. Though she felt the power of a spring sun on her shoulders, she kept walking, making her way through a narrow path in the empty lots across the street. Such a broad expanse of unoccupied land was unusual on this valuable stretch of beach. Only a few beachfront lots were left on the entire island and here were three lopped together. Her mother was lucky to live across from them and keep her ocean view.

      The path cut up a sandy incline and curved around a tall dune. Once again she was exhilarated at the sudden, surprising sight of the wide expanse of sparkling blue water. She heard the echoing roar punctuated by the cries of a gull. Far off in the mist, she caught the shadowy form of a cargo ship and, closer in, a line of pelicans coasted low over the waves. It was a marvel how she couldn’t think about her problems or solutions while staring out at the sea. It was as if she’d pushed a delete button in her brain and the monitor had cleared. The breeze greeted her with a caress, drawing her down from her perch on the dune to the wide arc of beach.

      On this side of the island, far from the hotels and restaurants, there were fewer tourists. But farther ahead, groups of sunbathers stretched out on colorful beach towels or sat in the shade under cheery umbrellas anchored in the sand. She began walking toward them, fixing as her goal the long stretch of pier two miles up where she knew she could get a cool drink and rest. As she walked along in her dressy silk outfit, she caught the idle stares of young girls in bikinis and mothers who stood by as toddlers splashed in the warm tidal pools. When she passed a small triangle of space on a dune outlined by wooden stakes, orange tape and a bright plastic warning sign, she smiled. This was a loggerhead turtle nest and it was likely her mother had marked it.

      Her shoulders were beginning to burn by the time she reached the pier and the small business section of the island called Front Beach. Young, hard-muscled teens played ferocious games of volleyball before a cheering crowd. Desperately thirsty, she walked up the wooden pathway that led to the Banana Cabana. Tables under red umbrellas were available but she was hot and sweaty and longed for the cool of an air-conditioned room. Stepping inside, she faced a blessed wall of cool and blinked in the dim light of the darkly paneled restaurant.

      Cara took a small table beside the wall under a neon beer sign. She didn’t mind sitting alone. Her job had required lots of travel and she was accustomed to eating alone in a restaurant or biding her time at an airport bar. But on a business trip, her mind was focused on the job and her suit and briefcase made her invisible. Here, she idly stared at the walls and her СКАЧАТЬ