Unlawfull Alliances Page 3

  I didn’t blame him. In fact, I was glad he had left. It gave me a safe haven.At thirteen, one year after he had left, I made the decision, supported by the legal system, to leave California and move in with my father and stepmother in Seattle, a decision I had not regretted for an instant. Although guilt had gone along with it, not only the guilt my mother had tried to impose on me for abandoning her and taking my father’s side, but guilt for leaving my brother Cameron and my little sister Bryn behind. My older sister, Charlotte, on the other hand, was a devotee of our mother and consequently, an enemy of our father.

  I knew Cameron and Bryn would have liked to leave with me, but their ages, nine and seven, had prevented it. They could not leave until they too had reached the age of thirteen, and a judge was willing to consider their requests.

  And even more guilt because, despite my having paved the way for them, I had left in the wake of my mother’s bitterness which proved to make their lives even more miserable. At her most spiteful, our mother went so far as to deny some of their visits to the sanity of the Northwest. I shivered. Remnants of guilt still lived on inside of me.

  “What is it, Jenny?”

  “Just had a flash of Cam and Bryn.”

  He smiled. “Talked to Bryn yesterday.”

  “How is she?”

  “Could use a visit from her big sister, I suspect.”

  “Maybe this summer Bryn and I can make a trip up to the island to see Aunt Winnie. After Joe and I go on our back-to-nature second honeymoon, of course, and—”

  “Your Joe? Back to nature?”

  “He used to love camping.”

  “Used to are the operative words here, I think. Sorry, luv.” He must have seen my glare.

  “Nothing dramatic. All very gentle. First hiking in the Olympics—”

  “Does Joe know about this?”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll love it.”

  Charlie patted my hand. “Of course he will.”

  I stared past Charlie and through the cafe window to the Seattle street.

  “What is it, Jenny? Is something wrong between you and Joe?” And Charlie thought I was the intuitive one. I had nothing over him in that department. Especially of late.

  “Not really. We’re better off than most people I know.”

  “But?”

  “But I’d like it to be better than just better off.”

  Charlie winked at me. “And that’s the reason for the second honeymoon.”

  “Yep. Think it will work?”

  “Unless he’s daft.”

  I winked back at him. “And after that, Bryn and I can head for the island. Once Holly leaves. She’s talking about going to New York for some intensive dance classes before leaving for college in the fall.”

  “Aye, the empty nest is upon you.”

  “Almost. But Matt comes home from the dorm a lot. Likes the comfort and quiet of home, I think.”

  “But it’s not the same.”

  “No, not the same.”

  “Hey, I talked to Malcolm yesterday. Called from Edinburgh.”

  “How is he?” My voice softened, even to my own ear. It always did, I suspected, when the subject was Professor Malcolm MacGregor. He had been, after all, my favorite professor at the college.

  “Well. Very well. Asked after you.”

  “When does he get back?”

  “Another month maybe.” Charlie was staring at me. “You look beautiful this morning, lass.”

  I shook my long and boring brown hair away from my face. “Enough blarney, Charlie. Tell me what’s going on. It’s hard to believe that Amy Morrison actually hired you. Knowing her husband’s firm uses you to find evidence in a lot of their divorce cases.”

  “Amy?”

  “Let me just grab a croissant and an Americana. How fattening are their croissants? Don’t answer that.”

  “Not something you need to worry about, darlin’,” he said as I headed for the counter.

  “You’re too kind, Charlie. And a lousy liar.”

  When I sat back down with my indulgences, Charlie was scratching his grey flocked head, his forehead scrunched in bewilderment.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your intuition must be a wee bit muddled on this one.”

  “Is it?”

  “It’s not Amy Morrison who called me.”

  “But you said— Then who?”

  “Scott Morrison.”

  Chapter 3

  “Sure, I’ll go.”

  Joe looked up from the gold-trimmed invitation. “But you hate these social—”

  “It’s a good cause,” I said, pouring the steaming water into a cup. I couldn’t wait until I finished a new set of mugs. I had settled on the final design. Now I just needed to make them.

  “Is it? Jenny?

  “Hunh?”

  He sighed. “Are you daydreaming?”

  “I was just thinking about some new mugs I’m working on. What did you want to know?”

  “I asked if it’s a good cause.” He waved the invitation at me.

  Of course it was another royal gathering of Rosemary Morrison’s friends and acquaintances, but it was also a fund raiser for battered women. Apparently he hadn’t noticed the large print on the front page. “Yes,” I said. “An important cause.”

  “We could send a donation.” He tossed the invitation onto the kitchen table and grabbed me. “And stay home and dance.”

  I was giggling as he whirled me around the kitchen, accompanying our fox trot with “Dancing Cheek to Cheek.”

  With that voice and those moves, I almost forgot that I was on a mission here. “Can’t we do both?” I asked as soon as he finished his song.

  “Why would you want to? I doubt there will be dancing at this one.”

  “That’s okay.”

  Now Joe stopped dancing as well as singing. He was looking at me as if I had grown an extra nose. Justifiably so. I was, after all, very selective about the functions I attended. They included, for the most part, parties hosted by Joe’s firm, or they had to have dancing. And recently, I had missed a few of those.

  “What about preferring being stranded on the side of a mountain to a business party?”

  “That was yesterday.”

  “What’s going on, Jenny?” Joe eyed me suspiciously. I half expected him to feel my forehead for a fever.

  I did not like this. Joe and I may not have had a perfect marriage, but we had never been dishonest with each other. “I need to make a phone call.” I snatched up the portable telephone and headed for the den.

  “I can’t do this, Charlie.”

  “I’m sure Scott meant what he said, Jenny. He’s not looking to divorce Amy. He just wants to know what’s going on with her. There are signs of an extramarital affair, but he thinks there’s something more to it. This isn’t about collecting evidence for a divorce hearing. They have an eight-month old baby for God’s sake. He wants to help her, Jenny.”

  “It’s not that, Charlie. Well, yes, that is why I agreed to help.” That and my intuition telling me Amy was in some kind of trouble, perhaps more than even she realized. “I just can’t lie to Joe.”

  Charlie sighed one of those weary sighs, the kind that made me want to sigh right along with him. “Okay, you can tell him you’re helping me with a case that involves the Morrisons, but you’re daft if you tell him any more than that. You’re going to make it difficult for him, and awkward. It’s Joe you’re protecting, Jenny.”

  “I know that. But it doesn’t feel right to lie.”

  “Jenny, what are you doing?” Joe opened the door to the den.

  “Making a phone call.”

  “In the middle of our conversation?”

  I nodded. Then I threw my arms around him. “I love you, Joe.”

  He laughed. “I love you too, honey.”

  When we pulled apart, he still had a bewildered look on his face. Actually now he was looking at me as if I had Martian antennas growing out of my head, or worse, as
if I’d spent too much time meditating that afternoon.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you. I had to call Charlie. I’m helping him with a case.”

  “Is it dangerous?” Always his first question.

  “Of course not. Charlie doesn’t take dangerous cases.”

  “All of Charlie’s cases have the potential for danger.”

  “Well, not this one.”

  He looked at me, his eyebrow raised slightly in expectation. He was looking especially handsome lately, my Joe was. He did not look forty-five. No wrinkles on his rugged complexion. And his thick brown hair showed no signs of receding or balding, or even changing color. Not even an inch of a pot belly. I wondered if that was what motivated me to do my yoga exercises as often as I did.

  “Jenny, are you daydreaming again?”

  “Oh, sorry. I was just— Never mind. Okay, the reason I’m going to Rosemary’s fund raiser is because I’m helping Charlie with a case that involves the Morrisons.”

  “For the law firm?”

  How tempting it was to let him believe that. But I couldn’t. “No. This one involves them—personally.”

  “The Morrisons? What kind of a case?”

  I put up my hand. “I can’t tell you anymore. I promised Charlie. And I think it would make things awkward for you if you knew the details.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Quite.”

  “Okay. Fine. Don’t tell me.”

  “Your little boy pout won’t work.”

  “Well, maybe this will.” He grabbed me and tickled me until we were rolling around on the den floor.

  “Sorry. It’s for your own good,” I squeaked out between giggles.

  “Well, then, how about this.” He looked into my eyes, smiling softly, the smile that told me, yes, our marriage was one of the lucky ones. Then he kissed me, and for a few minutes, I forgot what it was he was trying to get me to tell him. I also forgot that we were not the only ones living in this house.

  “What are you two doing on the floor?”

  “I’d think it was obvious,” I told our daughter who was grinning from ear to ear.

  Holly raised an eyebrow. “So, you want me to leave?”

  “No, of course not.” Joe sprang up to embrace her, to cover his embarrassment no doubt.

  He twirled her around, several inches off the ground, humming their theme song, “Five foot two, eyes of blue, kootchy kootchy kootchy coo, has anybody seen my gal?” It wasn’t difficult when you were dancing with a sprite like Holly who could not possibly weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. My graceful and gorgeous daughter, with her golden brown hair and blue eyes to match her father’s.

  Despite the loss of a private moment shared with my husband, I had to cherish the father-daughter moments more, now that they would soon be dependent on memory. Only weeks now until my college-bound child departed for distant pastures, pastures where parents were not allowed without written permission.

  When their song and dance routine had ended, Holly said, “Next time you might think to close the door. And lock it.” She closed the den door for us, but it was too late. The moment was lost, but not the affection. I snuggled up to Joe and we sat on the floor for a few minutes quietly enjoying the sanctuary of our marriage.

  It wasn’t until he said, “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with the Morrisons?” that I remembered why we were here.

  I shook my head. “I’ve already told you too much. You can’t say a word to anyone about this.”

  Joe smirked at me. “You know me better than that, Jenny.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You also know I don’t like you working with Charlie.”

  “I’m just helping him out a little, especially since I have better opportunities than he does.”

  “To what? Spy on our friends?”

  “They’re not friends. Besides, I’m trying to help them, that’s all.”

  “It still feels like a betrayal. And you know I worry about you.”

  It was my turn to smirk. “I couldn’t possibly be in any danger. You’re being silly about this.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t embrace the idea of my wife being a spy.” With that, he stood up and walked out of the room, leaving me to find comfort in the cream colored Berber carpet.

  * * *

  My arm looped around my husband’s, we walked through the Morrison mansion to their garden party fund raiser. Tables were sprawled across the lawn between the pool and tennis court, but most of the seventy-five or so guests were standing—mingling as Rosemary called it. White linen cloths covered the tables upon which sat creamy bone China dishes. I wondered if they were rented, or if Rosemary stocked dishes in the hundreds for occasions such as this.

  I was still having trouble grasping that it was her lovely daughter-in-law, Amy, whom I was here to observe. But I shouldn’t have been surprised, considering the state she’d been in at our last social function. It just hadn’t occurred to me that she was suffering from guilt, or the unhappy consequences of having an affair.

  With me attached to him, Joe made a beeline for the comfort of home. It seemed that the rest of his law firm had done the same. They were gathered at one of the tables, drinks in hand.

  Jane Hunter, senior partner of Hunter, Fleming, and Campbell, was as subdued and serious as ever. There was always an austere quality to Jane’s appearance. With just a tweak here and there, her outer appearance would have reflected her inner loveliness. Her husband, Howard, one of the few guests who was actually seated, was sufficiently bored as to bury himself in the tennis magazine that he had sneaked into the bash via his inside jacket pocket. Maybe it was time to start another support group—for spouses of attorneys.

  Hugh Fleming, Meredith’s suave husband, was in serious discussion with Jane, about a case he was working on. I could understand why Meredith had sought greener pastures, pool side. Maybe we had more in common than I’d realized. The temptation to seek solitude alongside her tugged at my three quarter length sleeve. But today was going to be different. Mingling had taken on a whole new meaning.

  “I have to tell you, Jenny, this feels very weird,” Joe whispered before joining his cronies.

  “What, having me here with you? Willingly?”

  He cocked his head to the side in thought.

  I helped him. “Or having me here on a mission?”

  “Mmm.”

  Charlie was right. I’d have done Joe a favor by not telling him anything.

  But I had told him and we were here, and I had work to do. After greeting Joe’s partners, I excused myself and clomped off in my new pair of high heels. I headed for Meredith who was at the side of the pool lapping up the sunshine, the string quartet humming gently in the background.

  “What? Two social functions in the same week!” Meredith said.

  “Out of character, I know.”

  “Hey, nice suit.”

  “Thanks.” I smoothed the blue linen jacket that felt so unnatural to me. But Holly, as had the saleslady, assured me it was perfect for a luncheon fund raiser. Judging from the blend of linen suits and flowery dresses in the crowd, she was right. I think I would have preferred a flowery dress though. It would have reminded me, at least a little, of my era as a flower child. And it might have gone better with the homemade quilted purse that followed me everywhere.

  “So, who took you shopping?”

  I laughed. “Holly. So what do you think?”

  “I like it. Not exactly you, but. . . ” Her forehead wrinkled slightly. “I guess I’m a little disappointed. I always look forward to seeing what Jenny Campbell, if she shows up, that is, will wear to one of these functions, just to shake things up a little.”

  “You know I don’t do it to shake things up.”

  “True. So, why do you do it?”

  “I suppose I’m just trying to hang onto myself through it all.”

  “Gotcha. I might do the same if I didn’t love clothes so damn much.” She laughed
and swung her hair behind her shoulders, glints of silver shining in the sunlight. “And I do pride myself on being current.”

  Her flowery dress was definitely current, with the tiny cloth covered buttons from cleavage to waist. It did look shorter than the popular style, however, but it was hiked up a bit so she could improve the tan on her shapely legs. There was no way this woman ever could have given birth, let alone to strapping eight pound twin boys who were due to turn seventeen this month.

  “Do you think Rosemary ordered up this sunshine, specially for today?” Meredith said. “I mean, what are the odds of sunshine in May in Seattle? Even the mountain is out.”

  “True.” I glanced beyond her in the direction of Mount Rainier for a blissful moment, then brought my focus back to the bustling crowd of husbands and wives, lawyers and civilians, friends and . . . whoever else happened to be here.

  Scott Morrison was dressed more casually than usual. Although not as strikingly handsome as his father, he looked dashing. Rather than a formal three-piece suit, he was wearing grey slacks and a navy sports jacket. He was smiling his impish smile at the ladies who were gathered around him, his single dimple in full view. If he was faithful to his wife, it was not for lack of offers, I was certain.

  But despite the attention his feminine admirers were lavishing upon him, his eyes seemed to be tracking someone off in the distance. I followed his gaze directly to Amy. She was acting the proper hostess, assistant to Rosemary, making certain the guests needed for naught.

  “So, anything exciting happening today?” I asked Meredith. “Or is it just another boring bash?”

  She inhaled slightly and let out the air with a shudder. “Well, you did miss the exchange between Papa and Son.”