“What the hell is it with you, Harry? Why do you always have to get involved in family stuff like this?”
“Beats me. Maybe it’s because I am family.” Harry stretched his legs out in front of him and contemplated his grandfather.
A few years ago at the age of seventy, Parker had reluctantly turned over the day-to-day operation of Stratton Properties to his son, Gilford. Nothing short of an act of God, however, could keep Parker from going into his office every day. Stratton Properties was his life.
Parker had lived and breathed business from the cradle, and the diet had served him well. He used a cane when his arthritic knee bothered him, but other than that, he was in excellent health. He looked at least ten years younger than his chronological age, thanks to his fine Stratton bone structure. His doctor had told him that he had the heart and lungs of a man twenty years younger.
Stratton Properties was a part of Parker, as necessary to him as the very air he breathed. The day he died, he would be seated behind his desk.
“I’ll get right to the point,” Harry said. “I think you should give Brandon his chance. Tell him you’re behind him. Tell him there will be no reprisals.”
Parker aimed a finger at him. “You stay out of this, by God. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the reason he’s taken this damn fool notion into his head in the first place.”
Harry held up both hands, palms out. “Scout’s honor, I never once encouraged him to try his hand at commercial property management. He came up with the idea all on his own.”
“The hell he did. He saw how you walked away from your Stratton heritage, and he’s decided to show everyone else in the family that he’s just as goddamned stubborn and independent as you are.”
“I think you’re giving me entirely too much credit,” Harry said.
“I’m not giving you any credit.” Parker’s eyes turned fierce. “I’m giving you the full blame for this stupid situation. If you hadn’t come along, Brandon would never have thought about leaving the firm.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“I am sure of it, damn it,” Parker insisted. “You’ve been a bad influence on him.”
“He wants to spread his wings a little. Why not let him do it?”
Parker’s hand clenched into a bunched fist. “He won’t survive a year out there on his own.”
“You don’t know that for certain. After all, he’s got Stratton blood in his veins. Your blood. Who knows what he can do?”
“You’ve got Stratton blood in your veins, too.” Parker’s eyes narrowed. “But it wasn’t enough to turn you into a businessman.”
“We both know that I wasn’t cut out for the corporate world,” Harry said mildly.
“You mean you weren’t cut out to face the real world. You prefer to hide in your damned ivory tower. You’d have been a vice-president today if you’d joined the company when you first came to Seattle.”
“Not likely,” Harry said. “You and Gilford would have fired me within three months. I would never have fit in around here.”
“Because you lack the discipline to fit in,” Parker retorted. “That’s your problem, Harry. You’re too damned arrogant and bullheaded. It’s your father’s fault. He deliberately turned you against your heritage. It was his way of thumbing his nose at all things Stratton. It was his final revenge against me, that’s what it was.”
“I think we’ve covered this territory fairly thoroughly in the past.”
Parker’s jaw was rigid. For a moment it looked as though he was prepared to continue the old argument. Then he lounged back in his chair. “What’s this I hear about you having a new lady friend?”
Harry raised his brows. “Word gets around. Her name is Molly Abberwick.”
“Danielle says she appears to have moved in with you.”
“She has. For a while.”
Parker scowled. “You know I don’t approve of that kind of thing.”
“I know.” Harry steepled his fingers. “Let’s get back to the subject of Brandon.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. Don’t expect me to encourage him in this idiotic scheme to go into business for himself. He has a duty to his family.”
“Danielle is afraid that you’ll disinherit Brandon if he goes off on his own.”
“I will,” Parker said immediately. “Told him as much the other day.
“Skip the threats. Give him your blessing, Parker.”
“Why the devil should I?”
“Because he’s going to go off on his own, anyway, and because it would be a lot less nerve-wracking for Danielle if you tell her it’s okay by you.”
“Why should I make it any easier for anyone?”
Harry waited a heartbeat or two until he knew he had Parker’s full attention. “You owe Danielle this much.”
“I owe her? Are you crazy? I’ve given my daughter everything. Given everyone in the family too damn much. That’s half the problem around here. They’re all spoiled.” Parker beetled his brows. “What do I owe her?”
“She helped you save your precious company after your oldest daughter ran off with my father,” Harry said evenly. “She did what my mother was supposed to do for you. She married Dean Hughes. Because of her you got the infusion of cash you needed so badly at the time. And you got the Hughes connections. They were worth even more than the money, weren’t they?”
Parker stared at him, openmouthed, for a few seconds. Then his teeth snapped together. “How dare you imply that I forced Danielle into that marriage! As if I could. This isn’t the Middle Ages.”
“It might as well be, as far as you’re concerned. You’re still trying to run people’s lives as if you were some feudal lord.”
“I have a right to run a few things around here. I built this company. If it wasn’t for me there would be no Stratton Properties, Inc.”
“You had a little help along the way,” Harry said softly. “Specifically from your daughter Danielle. She stepped into the breach when my mother ran off with my father. You owe her, Parker.”
“I don’t owe her a damn thing.”
“You owe her big time, and you know it. She endured a hellish marriage for the sake of the family business. If it hadn’t been for her, Stratton Properties would have gone under thirty-five years ago. It’s payback time.”
“What’s this sudden concern with whether or not your aunt had a happy marriage? Most people don’t have happy marriages, you know.”
“My parents did,” Harry said softly.
Parker flushed with rage. “Sean Trevelyan stole my little Brittany from her family. He seduced her, by God. He came like a thief in the night. He took her away from her home and her heritage and everything that was rightfully hers.”
“And he kept her happy.”
“He never gave her what she should have had, what she deserved.”
Harry met his eyes. “If you want to see what would have happened to my mother if she had been married to Dean Hughes for a few years, take a look at Danielle.”
“How dare you,” Parker roared. “At least she would still be alive.”
Harry felt as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room. He was too late. They were both dead. And now he was going to die, too. He would never reach the surface in time. Too late. Too late.
Emotion howled like a cold north wind across his soul. For a moment the barriers that protected him from the abyss wavered and threatened to dissolve. Harry could see straight through them to the endless darkness, and it beckoned with a terrible seductiveness. It would be so easy just to let himself fall into the depths and be lost forever.
And then an image of Molly appeared. She smiled at him from the opposite side of the abyss. Reality solidified around him.
Harry looked at Parker. “Like I said, you owe Aunt Danielle. Give her the one thing she
really wants. The one thing that only you can give her.”
“What’s that?”
“Peace of mind about Brandon’s future. Brandon doesn’t need it, but she does. Danielle hasn’t had much peace of mind in her life. She’s been too busy trying to please you.”
Parker’s hands bunched into fists on the arms of his chair. “Who the hell appointed you avenging angel in this family?”
“Damned if I know.” Harry opened the door.
“You can be a real SOB, Harry, you know that?”
Harry looked back over his shoulder, met and held his grandfather’s eyes. “Runs in the family. Both sides.”
He went out the door and closed it quietly.
He was not particularly surprised to find his uncle, Gilford Stratton, waiting for him in front of the art glass display. Harry smiled bleakly. This was not going to be one of his lucky days.
Gilford was forty-nine, the youngest of Parker’s three offspring. With his aristocratic bones, fair hair, and hazel eyes, he was as handsome as the rest of the Strattons. Fifteen years ago he had married Constance Heeley, the daughter of a prominent Northwest shipping family. They had two children.
Luckily for the Strattons, Gilford had inherited more than just the family looks. He had also inherited the Stratton business talents. Stratton Properties was thriving under his administration.
“What are you up to now, Harry?” Gilford watched him with cool caution. Then understanding blazed in his eyes. “Damn it, you’ve upset Parker again, haven’t you?”
“It doesn’t take much. You know as well as I do that Parker gets annoyed at the very sight of me. But don’t worry, he’ll survive our latest discussion.”
Gilford took a menacing step forward. “You talked to him about Brandon’s stupid plan to leave the company, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Stay out of this. You know how the old man feels about anyone in the family leaving the firm.”
“I know,” Harry said.
“I’m warning you, Harry, don’t get involved in this. Let Parker handle it.”
“His refusal to let Brandon go gracefully is tearing Danielle apart.”
Gilford’s expression tightened. “I know. I’m sorry about it, but that’s the way it goes. It’s not your problem. For once, try not to meddle in family business.” He turned on his heel and strode off down the corridor to his corner office.
Harry watched him go, and then he made his way back through the reception area to the bank of elevators. The good news was that Molly was coming home for lunch.
Molly folded her hands on top of her desk and regarded the sober, serious countenances of her aunt and Cutter Latteridge. She knew they both meant well, but their concern was irritating, nonetheless.
“Don’t worry about me, Aunt Venicia. I’ll be fine at Harry’s place.”
“But, dear, if you don’t feel comfortable staying in your own home, you can stay with me.” Venicia, dressed in a flowing orange and fuchsia dress, was as bright as any of the tropical fish in Harry’s aquarium. But her eyes were troubled. “I really don’t know if you should be moving in with Harry Trevelyan like this. You hardly know him.”
“Believe me, I’m getting to know him better every day,” Molly said.
Venicia straightened her shoulders with a determined air. She slanted a quick glance at Cutter and then frowned at Molly. “Dear, Cutter and I have discussed your Dr. Trevelyan, and we feel there is something not quite right about this whole situation.”
“Not quite right?” Molly repeated.
Cutter cleared his throat meaningfully. “I know this isn’t any of my business. I’m not exactly a member of the family yet.” He paused to reach out and lightly touch Venicia’s hand. “But I feel as if I’m almost one of the clan, and I must speak up here.”
“Cutter, please,” Molly said. “Don’t worry.”
“I can’t help it, my dear.” Cutter assumed the pontificating air he did so well. “I’m extremely concerned about this entire matter. If odd things have been happening to you lately, and if you’re sure that the pranks are not the work of one of your sister’s friends, I urge you to let the police handle the situation.”
“As a matter of fact, Harry talked to the police yesterday,” Molly said. “There’s not much they can do, especially if Wharton Kendall has left for California.”
“But surely they can do something about that car that tried to run you off the road,” Venicia said.
“They couldn’t do anything except make a note of it and promise to keep an eye out for a blue Ford driven in a dangerous manner,” Molly explained. “Harry and I can’t even be certain there’s a connection between the attempt to sideswipe us and Wharton Kendall. Personally, the more I think about it, the more I doubt that there is. We were probably just the near victims of a drunk driver.”
Cutter gave her a considering look. “Why do you believe there’s no connection?”
“Because until now, Kendall’s idea of revenge has been to scare me with childish pranks,” Molly said. “He certainly hasn’t tried to hurt me.”
Cutter’s eyes narrowed. “If this Wharton Kendall fellow is responsible for the incidents, he’s obviously a sick man, my dear. His insane rage may escalate. He could be very dangerous. Your aunt is right. You probably ought to move in with her until this is all over.”
“I’ll be safe at Harry’s,” Molly insisted. She did not want to point out that if Kendall was pursuing her, the last thing she wanted to do was put Venicia in jeopardy.
Venicia sighed. “My dear, I hate to sound old-fashioned, but you really must think about how this looks. People will wonder what Dr. Trevelyan’s intentions are.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “Aunt Venicia, please. We’re not living in the last century.”
Cutter looked grim. “I think we can guess Trevelyan’s intentions.”
Molly scowled at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Cutter said, “that there may be more to this than meets the eye. I realize that you are attracted to the man, my dear, but you must keep a level head. You are responsible for a great deal of money.”
Molly unclasped her hands and braced them against the edge of her desk. “Are you still concerned that Harry may be interested in me only because he intends to skim a fortune in consulting fees off the foundation assets?”
“Don’t be angry, dear,” Venicia said quickly. “Cutter and I are both worried about this unusual relationship that seems to have sprung up between you and Dr. Trevelyan.”
“I hate to say this,” Cutter added ominously, “but it has struck me that your Dr. Trevelyan may be taking advantage of this Wharton Kendall situation.”
“That’s outrageous,” Molly said.
“Is it?” Cutter looked unconvinced. “It appears to me that he’s drawing you deeper and deeper into his web. Trevelyan has convinced you that you need his protection in addition to his expertise. You’ve become emotionally involved, my dear.”
“For the last time,” Molly said through her teeth, “I know what I’m doing.”
Cutter shook his head. “Anyone who is the trustee for a well-endowed foundation must question such a personal relationship with someone who stands to profit from that foundation. No, my dear, the way I see it, you’ve got two distinct threats to worry about. The possibility that an unstable inventor is out for revenge, and the equally unwelcome prospect of working with an unscrupulous consultant.”
Molly realized she was seething. “If Harry was so interested in getting his hands on a fortune, he wouldn’t have walked away from the Stratton money.”
Cutter studied her with a sympathetic expression. “He didn’t exactly walk away from it, my dear. According to my sources, he and his grandfather, Parker Stratton, quarreled bitterly. Harry refused to go to work for the firm. Stratton cut hi
m off from the family money. And there’s something more. Something you may not know.”
“What’s that?” Molly demanded.
Cutter hesitated. “I hate to say this, but I have heard a rumor to the effect that Harry Trevelyan may not be a well man, mentally speaking.”
“What? Where on earth did you hear that?”
Cutter sighed. “An acquaintance of mine once worked for Stratton Properties. He knows people there. Apparently Trevelyan’s fiancée broke off her engagement to him when she discovered that he had some sort of psychiatric disorder. She’s a psychologist, I understand, so she understood the implications.”
Molly leaped to her feet. “That is absolutely, positively untrue. Harry is not crazy.”
“Please, Molly,” Venicia soothed. “You must be rational about this.”
Molly glowered at her. “Just what do you suggest I do?”
Venicia smiled reassuringly. “Actually, I have an idea, Molly.”
“What’s that?”
“You could turn the trusteeship of the foundation over to me,” Venicia said. “I know it’s been a trial to you from the start. Let me handle things for you. If I took over, you would be able to step out of the picture entirely.”
Molly stared at her. “Turn the foundation over to you?”
“It’s a thought,” Cutter said slowly. “Wharton Kendall would soon realize that you no longer hold the purse strings. The knowledge might cool his obsession with revenge. And Dr. Trevelyan would no longer be a risk, either.”
“He’s not a risk,” Molly whispered.
“Look at it this way,” Cutter said gently. “If his romantic interest in you is genuine, he won’t care if you’re no longer in charge of the foundation.”
“You’ll discover soon enough if his intentions are honorable,” Venicia put in helpfully.
Molly shook her head. “Aunt Venicia, you don’t want the task of running the foundation, believe me. It’s a constant headache.”
“Well, no, I don’t want the job,” Venicia said honestly. “But I’m willing to undertake the responsibility. It’s the least I can do. Cutter could assist me. He’s got a strong background in engineering. He could sort through the proposals and make selection decisions.”