"If you were called on to testify, you'd be able to swear under oath that she demanded money."
"More than once," Grace agreed. "Will it come to that, Anna? Will you have to take Seth into court?"
"I don't know. If it heads in that direction, we should be able to add extortion to the list of charges you reeled off. You must have scared her," she added with a small, satisfied smile. "You'd have scared me."
"Things just come flying out of my mouth when I get worked up."
"I know what you mean. There are things I'd like to say to her, but in my position, I can't. Or I shouldn't," she said with a long sigh. "I'll type this up for Seth's file, then I suppose I'll have to compose another letter to her."
"Why?" Grace's fingers tightened on the handle of the broom. "Why do you have to have any contact with her?"
"Cam and his brothers need to know, Grace. They need to know exactly what Gloria DeLauter and Seth were to Ray."
"It's not what some people are saying." Grace's eyes flashed as she yanked a dustpan out of the broom closet. She couldn't seem to sweep away the simmering anger inside her. "Professor Quinn wouldn't have cheated on his wife. He was devoted to her."
"They need to have all the facts, and so does Seth."
"I'll give you a fact. Professor Quinn had taste. He wouldn't have looked twice at a woman like Gloria DeLauter—unless it was with pity, or disgust."
"Cam certainly feels the same way. But another thing people say is that when they look at Seth they see Ray Quinn's eyes."
"Well, there's another explanation for it, that's all." Her own eyes were hot as she shoved the broom and dustpan away, yanked out a bucket and a mop.
"Perhaps. But it may have to be faced and dealt with that the Quinns hit a rocky patch in their marriage, as people often do. Extramarital affairs are distressingly common."
"I don't give a damn about all the statistics you hear on television or read in magazines about how three out of five men—or whatever it is—cheat on their wives." Grace dumped cleanser in the bucket, dropped it into the sink, and turned the water on full blast. "The Quinns loved each other, and they liked each other. And they had an admiration for each other. You couldn't be around them and not see it. They were tied only tighter together because of their sons. When you saw the five of them together, you were seeing family. Just the way the five of you are family."
Touched, Anna smiled. "Well, we're working on it."
"You just haven't had as many years as the Quinns did." Grace hauled the bucket out of the sink. "They were a unit."
Units, Anna thought, often broke down. "If something had happened between Ray and Gloria, would Stella have forgiven him?"
Grace thrust the mop into the bucket and gave Anna a cool, decisive look. "Would you forgive Cam?"
"I don't know," Anna said after a moment. "It would be hard to because I'd have killed him. But I might, eventually, put flowers on his grave."
"Exactly." Satisfied, Grace nodded. "That kind of betrayal doesn't swallow down easily. And it follows that if the Quinns had that kind of tension between them, their sons would have known it. Children aren't fools, no matter how many adults might think so."
"No, they're not," Anna murmured. "Whatever the truth is, they need to find it. I'm going to type up my notes," she said as she rose. "Will you take a look at them, see if there's anything you want to add or change before they go into the file?"
"All right. I've still got some wash to hang out, then I'll be…"
They heard it at the same time, the wildly happy barking of dogs. Grace's reaction was pure distress. She'd lost track of the time, and Ethan was home.
Going on instinct, Anna slipped her notebook into a kitchen drawer. "I want to talk to Cam about this before we tell Seth about the phone call."
"Yes, that's best. I…"
"You can go out the back, Grace," Anna said quietly. "Nobody could blame you for not wanting another emotional hit today."
"I have wash to hang out."
"You've done more than enough for one afternoon." Grace straightened her shoulders. "I finish what I start." She turned into the laundry room and the lid of the washer clanged as she tossed it up. "Which is more than can be said of some people."
Anna lifted a brow. Ethan was in for a surprise, she decided. And wasn't it handy that she was around to see him get it?
Chapter Nineteen
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when he saw her car in the driveway, Ethan had to force himself not to rush into the house just for a look at her. A quick glimpse, just one. He could take all of her into his mind with just one look.
He hadn't known it was possible to miss a woman—to miss anything—the way he was missing Grace.
The way, he thought, that left him empty and achy and edgy every hour of every day until he was desperate to fill the void. Until he laid awake at night listening to the air breathe.
Until he thought he was losing his mind.
The control he'd kept in place for so many years where she was concerned seemed constantly shaky these days. The walls of that control had already been breached, were tumbled at his feet so that he could swear he was choking on their dust.
He supposed once a man let it go, it was hard to build it back up again.
But he'd left the choice in her hands, he reminded himself. Since she hadn't made a move in his direction in days, he was afraid he knew which choice she'd made.
He couldn't blame her for it.
She would find someone else—someone she could make a life with. The thought burned in his gut as he loitered by his truck, but he refused to let it pass. She deserved to have what she wanted out of life. That was marriage and children and a pretty home. A father for Aubrey, a man who would appreciate both of them for the treasures they were.
Another man.
Another man who would slip his arms around her waist, rub his mouth over hers. Hear her breath quicken, feel her bones go soft.
Some faceless son of a bitch who wasn't good enough for her would turn to her in the night, sink inside her. And smile every goddamn morning because he knew he could do it again.
Christ, Ethan thought, it was making him crazy.
Foolish bumped into his legs, a ratty tennis ball clamped hopefully in his mouth, his tail wagging persuasively. In a habitual move, Ethan tugged the ball free and tossed it. Foolish bounded after it, yapping furiously when Simon darted like a bullet from the left and intercepted.
Ethan only sighed when Simon pranced back, sat, and waited for the game to continue.
It was as good an excuse as any to stay outside, Ethan decided. He would fool with the dogs, go fiddle with his boat, stay out of Grace's way. If she had wanted to see him, she could have found him.
The dogs worked him around the side yard, and taking pity on the slower, less skilled Foolish, Ethan found a stick to toss along with the ball. It lightened his mood a little to watch them bash into each other, wrestle, fetch, and retrieve.
You could de
pend on a dog, he thought, giving the ball a higher, harder toss that sent Simon bounding in pursuit.
They never asked for more than you could give them.
He didn't see Grace until he was well around the house. Then he simply stood.
No, one look, one quick glimpse, wasn't enough. Would never be enough.
The sheet she lifted to the line flapped wetly in the breeze as she pegged it. The sun was on her hair. As he watched, she bent to the basket, took out a pillowcase, gave it a quick snap, then clipped it beside the sheet.
Love flooded into him, swamped him, left him weak and needy. Small details hammered him—the curve of her cheek in profile. Had he ever noticed how elegant her profile was? The way her hair sat on her head, feathered at the back of her neck. Was she letting it grow? The way the trim cuff of her shorts skimmed her thigh. She had such long, smooth thighs.
Foolish rapped his head against Ethan's leg and snapped him back.
Abruptly nervous, he wiped his hands on his work pants, shifted his feet. It was probably best, he decided, if he just slipped back around the front, went into the house and upstairs. He took the first step back, then pulled up short when she turned. She gave him a long look, one he couldn't read, then bent to take out another pillowcase.
"Hello, Ethan."
"Grace." He tucked his hands in his pockets. It wasn't often he heard her voice quite so cool.
"It's foolish to go all the way back around to the front of the house just to avoid me."
"I was… going to check something on the boat."
"That's fine. You can do that after I talk to you."
"I wasn't sure you'd want to talk to me." He approached her cautiously. Her tone of voice took the blistering heat right out of the day.
"I tried to talk to you the other night, but you weren't inclined to listen." She reached into the basket, apparently unperturbed that she was now hanging his underwear.
"Then I needed a little time to myself, to settle everything in my head."
"And have you?"
"Oh, I think so. First, I should tell you that what you told me about what you went through before you came here shocked me, and it hurt me, and I have nothing but pity for that little boy and rage about what happened to him." She glanced at him as she secured the next clothespin. "You don't want to hear that. You don't want to think that I have feelings about it, that it touched me."
"No," he said evenly. "No, I didn't want it to touch you."
"Because I'm so fragile. Because I'm so delicate of nature."
His brows drew together. "Partly. And—"
"So you hoarded that nasty little seed all for yourself," she went on, calmly working her way down the clothesline. "Even though there's nothing in or of my life that you don't know. It's the way it should be, in your opinion, that I'm an open book and you're a closed one."
"No, it wasn't that. Exactly."
"What could it have been exactly?" she wondered, but he didn't think it was a question and wisely formed no answer. "I've been thinking about that, Ethan. I've been thinking about a number of things. Why don't we go back a ways first? You like to do things in neat, logical steps. And since you like things to be done your way, we'll just be neat and logical."
The dogs, sensing trouble, retreated to the water. Ethan found himself envying them.
"You told me you've loved me for years. Years," she said with such quick fury that he nearly stumbled back. "But you don't do anything about it. You don't