Against All Odds. Gwynne Forster

approval, before Wayne took one of Adam’s bags, and they climbed the wide staircase to Adam’s room.

      “What do you know about the new manager you hired for Leather and Hides? I’m sure you investigated his references. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s competent...but, well, can we trust him?”

      Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “He came with excellent references, but if you’re suspicious...” He let the thought hang. Wayne’s question raised a possibility that he hadn’t considered. He went to find his mother, to let her know he’d come home.

      * * *

      With several hours remaining before dinner, Adam decided to visit Bill Henry, his mother’s youngest brother. He figured he’d be seeing a lot of his uncle. If any man had come to terms with life, B-H was that man. And with a stressful two months ahead of him, he was going to need the relief that B-H’s company always provided. He entered the modestly constructed, white clapboard house without knocking. When B-H was at home, the door was always unlocked, and in summer the house was open except for the screen doors. It amused him that his wealthy uncle chose to eschew the manifestations of wealth, while his neglected investments made him richer by the minute.

      “Why’re you home in midsummer, Adam? You usually manage to avoid this heat.” Not only did Bill Henry take his time speaking, Adam noted—his uncle, though still a relatively young man, did everything at a slow pace.

      “Wayne asked me to come home. I expect you’ve heard about the near fiasco at Leather and Hides. I hope it was a simple error, but I’m beginning to suspect that someone wants to sink Hayes/Roundtree Enterprises. We don’t know who’s masterminding it, or even if that’s the case, but one of our employees had a hand in it. It couldn’t have happened otherwise.”

      Bill Henry rocked himself in the contour rocker that he’d had designed to fit his six-foot four-inch frame. “What kind of mix-up was it?”

      Adam related the details. “That’s burned-up money, B-H.” He wiped the perspiration from his brow. If Bill Henry chose to live close to nature, he could at least have something handy with which his guests could fan. The man must have sensed Adam’s discomfort, for he passed an old almanac to his nephew, and Adam made good use of it.

      “Any new men on the job?” When Adam shook his head and then looked hard at him, as though less certain than he had been, B-H probed.

      “Anybody mad at you?”

      Adam shrugged. “I’ve thought of both possibilities, and I’ve got some ideas. But I can’t act until I’m positive. In the meantime I’ll install a variety of security measures. If you have any thoughts on it, give me a call.”

      Adam took his time walking the half mile back home in the ninety-six-degree heat. A new man was on the job, but what did that prove? He had no reason to suspect Calvin Nelson. The man was too experienced to have permitted such a blunder, so he couldn’t have known about it. If it was deliberate... But why would he want to do such a thing? Unless... Adam didn’t want to believe that Melissa would engineer the destruction of his family’s company, that she would participate in industrial sabotage, producing the perfect candidate for the job. One who could destroy his family’s livelihood. No, he didn’t believe it. But she was a Grant, and there had never been such a mishap at Leather and Hides in the plant’s sixty-five years. Not until Calvin Nelson became its manager. It was a complication that he’d prefer not to have and an idea that he couldn’t accept.

      * * *

      He didn’t want to think about Melissa, but he couldn’t get her out of his head, because something in him had latched on to her and refused to let go. He’d taken a chance in letting her think their relationship was over. If she knew him better, she’d know that he finished what he started, and that she was unfinished business. He meant to have her, and leaving her for two months only made it more difficult. Melissa was special, and she appealed to him on many levels. He liked her wit, the way her mind worked, her composure, the laid-back sexy way she glided about. And he liked her company. He was tired of games, sick of hollow seductions, disgusted with chasing women he’d already caught just because good taste demanded it. It was always the same. A woman allowed him to chase her until she decided enough time had elapsed or he’d spent enough money, and then she let herself be caught. He never promised anything, but she’d go to bed and then she chased him. He was sick of it. Done with it. Melissa didn’t engage in such shenanigans, at least not with him, and that was part of her attraction. He wondered if she’d miss him.

      * * *

      A phone call from her father was reason for apprehension, though Melissa had learned not to display her real feelings when his treatment of her lacked the compassion that a daughter had a right to expect of her father. But when her father called her office and began his conversation with a reminder of her duties to her family, she knew he was about to make one of his unreasonable demands. She geared herself for the worst, and it was soon forthcoming.

      “Melissa, you’ve been ignoring your mother,” he began, omitting the greeting. “I’m taking her to the hospital so the doctors can run some more tests. They can’t find anything wrong with her, but anybody can see she’s not well. Your mother’s getting weaker every day, and I want you to come home.” She didn’t want to argue with him. She had talked with her mother for a half hour the day before, and Emily Grant hadn’t alluded to any illness, though she had said that she got tired of taking test after test just to please her husband. But Melissa knew that her father’s views about his wife’s health would be the basis on which he acted, not the opinions of a doctor.

      A strange thought flitted through her mind. She had never heard her father call her mother by her given name. Did he know it? It was my wife, your mother, she, her, and you. She didn’t want to go back to that depressing environment. It wasn’t a home, but a place where trapped people coexisted. Her brother had found relief from it by taking a job in Kenya.

      “Father, I have responsibilities here.” She’d told him that many times, but he denied it as many times as he heard it.

      “And I’ve told you that if you come home, I’ll support you.” She didn’t want that and wouldn’t accept it, but if her mother needed her, she couldn’t ignore that. Annoyance flared when he added, “And I need a hostess and someone to accompany me on special occasions. Your mother isn’t up to it, or so she says. She isn’t up to anything.”

      She terminated the conversation as quickly as she could. “I’ll call you in a day or two, Father, and let you know what I can do.” Why hadn’t she told him no? That he could hire someone to help with her mother. Wasn’t she ever going to stand up to her father, stop begging for his approval? She closed her office door, kicked off her shoes, and began analysis of her financial situation to determine the effect of a move to Frederick, Maryland. Her father was insensitive in some ways, but she’d never known him to lie. Maybe her mother didn’t want to worry her by admitting that she was ill. She thought for a while. Yes, that would be consistent with her mother’s personality. Three hours later she walked down the corridor and knocked on the door of two lawyers who’d just begun their practice. If they agreed to her proposal, she’d move her business to Frederick. Later that afternoon she telephoned Burke’s Moving Managers and set a date.

      * * *

      Melissa entered her apartment that evening and looked around at the miscellaneous artifacts that had eased her life and given her pleasure for the five years she’d lived there. She loved her home, but she could make another one, she rationalized, fighting the tears. Ilona’s phone call saved her a case of melancholy.

      “Melissa, darling, come down for a coffee. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

      “You saw me yesterday when I was hailing a taxi. Give me a minute to change.”

      Ilona hadn’t indicated that she had a guest, and Melissa winced when she saw the debonair man. A boutonniere was all he needed to complete the picture of a Hungarian count. Melissa had dressed suitably for one packing to leave town with all of her belongings, but not for the company of an old-world gentleman. At times she could throttle