Suspicions. Lisa JacksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
A crafty look came over the wrinkled face, and she turned to lead Erin into her apartment.
“Oh, no, Mrs. Cavenaugh, I couldn’t…”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Cavenaugh sputtered. “Now, you come in here and tell me what’s really bothering you!”
Erin stopped protesting to smile and follow the bent figure into her apartment. The poor dear woman wasn’t really looking for Erin to complain about the cold floors at all, Erin realized. Mrs. Cavenaugh just wanted some company to brighten the long afternoon and evening. Erin decided the least she could do was enjoy a cup of tea with her elderly tenant, even if it was the foulest concoction ever to be poured from a silver teapot.
As Erin expected, the long, lace-covered coffee table was already set for two. A service of shining silver teapot and fragile porcelain cups adorned the table, and the air was scented with the strong aroma of chamomile.
Erin sat graciously in the floral side chair while, with slightly shaking hands, Mrs. Cavenaugh poured the pale ochre liquid into one of the cups. “Sugar?” she suggested, and without waiting for an answer, dropped two lumps into the light-colored brew.
Erin took the cup and sipped at the tea while Mrs. Cavenaugh settled herself into her favorite worn rocker. “So now, Erin, tell me about your problems at work.” Light blue eyes sparkled with interest as Erin briefly sketched out her morning at the bank. Erin glossed over a few of the details, carefully omitting any references to the bevy of emotions that her new boss had aroused in her. But Mrs. Cavenaugh’s knowing eyes saw more than Erin had hoped to divulge.
“So this new boss of yours…what’s-his-name…” Mrs. Cavenaugh began.
“Mr. Webster.” Erin supplied the missing words.
“Yes…what’s he like?” Eyes, crinkled at the corners, stared earnestly at Erin over the rim of the tiny cup.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Erin said with a shrug, hoping that she appeared aloof. “He’s…all business, I suppose. You know, the typical banker type.”
“I wonder…” The old woman paused dramatically, but Erin refused to rise to the bait and defend her position. “You say that he let Mitchell Cameron go? Why?”
Erin frowned into her teacup. “I don’t know,” she replied earnestly. “But I intend to find out!”
Mrs. Cavenaugh’s laughter crackled through the apartment. “And I don’t doubt that you will.” Why did Mrs. Cavenaugh seem so pleased? “Do you expect to corner Mr. Webster at work on Monday and get to the bottom of this?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it. He wants me to meet him tomorrow—show him the city, let him know firsthand about the bank. But I don’t think it would be a good idea. You know how I feel about my free time…”
“Oh, nonsense!” The sweet, wrinkled woman smiled and waved her hand, dismissing Erin’s argument as if it were a bothersome insect. “Yes, I know all about your need for privacy, and I know why. But, Erin, it’s been eight long years since that louse of a husband walked out on you, and you can’t hide away forever. Why not have some fun with this Mr. Webster? How could it hurt?”
“I have no intention of ‘having fun’ with Kane!” Erin exclaimed, bristling. Mrs. Cavenaugh’s eyes seemed to dance at Erin’s familiar use of her employer’s first name. “If I were to go, it would be strictly as a business meeting!”
“Call it whatever you will, it doesn’t matter. But for goodness’ sake, honey, go!” Mrs. Cavenaugh seemed to sense that Erin was wavering, and she added one final incentive. “How else do you plan to find out about Mitchell Cameron, unless you confront this Webster? I would think that you would prefer to do it while you were alone with the man.” She seemed thoughtful for a minute, letting her teacup rest in her hand. “This isn’t the kind of thing that you would want to start a scene over—now, is it? It just wouldn’t do to let on to all of the employees. It’s too scandalous, don’t you think? What would it do to employee morale?”
Erin laughed at the thinly veiled attempts of the kind but conniving old woman to persuade her. “Why is it that I feel manipulated?”
Mrs. Cavenaugh spread her palms upward in a helpless motion, suggesting that she didn’t have the faintest idea what Erin was implying, but a devilish twinkle remained in her eyes.
“Look, Mrs. Cavenaugh, I just may go with Kane tomorrow. But don’t make anything more of it than what it is—a business meeting. I’ve seen that look in your eyes before, so don’t go playing matchmaker for me,” Erin warned with a pleasant smile as she set her empty cup on the table.
Mrs. Cavenaugh chose to ignore Erin’s bit of advice. “More?” she asked, holding the teapot in midair over Erin’s cup.
“No, thank you. I’m sorry, but I really do have to get upstairs. But you’re right,” she added, placing her palm on the hardwood planks of the floor, shiny with patina. “I think there’s a draft coming from the bay window.” She walked over to the window in question and ran her fingers around the sill. The cold air made her frown. “I’ll see to it that somehow we warm this place up before winter really sets in.” Erin dusted her hands off against her jeans. “Thanks for the tea.”
“Don’t mention it,” the elderly woman responded with a wave of her hand. “You know you’re welcome here anytime.” She was smiling smugly to herself, seeming quite pleased.
Erin let herself out of the quaint little apartment and headed up the stairs. She glanced at her watch and realized that it was too late in the day to get anyone out to weatherize Mrs. Cavenaugh’s apartment this weekend. She jingled the keys in the lock and gave a hefty shove to her own sticky front door. There were so many things that needed to be done to the apartment house and so little time and money to do them with.
With a sigh she took off her jacket and headed for the kitchen. As she made herself a quick sandwich she thought about Mrs. Cavenaugh. She was right, of course. The only logical way that she would find out the circumstances surrounding Mitch’s dismissal would be to confront Kane directly, especially since Mitch was so mysterious and cynical about the situation. However misguided Mrs. Cavenaugh’s motives were, Erin had to admit that the little old woman made sense. And, no matter what, she couldn’t run away from private discussions with her boss forever, could she? Any emotions that had started to entangle her would just have to be straightened out and dealt with in a professional manner.
The pastrami sandwich that she created tasted like mustard-covered cardboard, and after a few nibbles she put it back into the refrigerator. Mrs. Cavenaugh’s biting words came into her mind. “It’s been eight long years since that louse of a husband walked out on you. You can’t go on hiding forever!”
Is that what I’m doing? Erin wondered as she flopped down on the soft cushions on the couch. Am I hiding? From what—or whom? Ever since her personal life had been thrown open to the public, and she had become the object of speculative gossip, Erin had vowed to keep her privacy securely guarded. Lee’s open affair with Olivia had scarred Erin so badly that even today, eight years afterward, she refused dates with coworkers in an almost paranoid way. With the exception of a few close friends no one at the office had any ideas about her love life.
Some love life! She had to laugh at herself at the thought. Except for a couple of men who had interested her only slightly, she had hardly dated since the divorce. It was easier, and she preferred to keep her feelings under tight rein, thus avoiding any further conjecture about her personal life.
Eight years ago Lee had seen to it that Erin was the topic of conversation in the bank cafeteria. Whether he had intended that she discover his affair with Olivia, Erin couldn’t guess. But it hadn’t taken long to find out about his clandestine meetings with one of the most seductively beautiful women in the bank. When she had discovered the affair, Erin had crumbled. But Lee had seemed to blossom and feed upon her humiliation. Even during the first confrontation he hadn’t been upset or contrite but rather smugly proud. Erin and Lee had separated, and Lee’s fascination