Chapter Nine

By Wednesday afternoon Andrea was still bathed in the hazy afterglow of her romantic encounter with Madison. Although his calls from Tucson were agonizingly brief, each one served to reinforce her growing love for him. She hummed a happy little song to herself as she headed for the main kitchen area. If all went well with his case, he'd be back by tomorrow afternoon and would call her the minute he got in. She could hardly wait.

In addition, Mo's rapid recovery lifted a great weight from her shoulders. She and Christopher were already caught up in plans for a welcome home party.

Andrea finished her conversation with the cook concerning the dinner menu and had just entered the foyer when the phone rang. As she reached for the receiver, she caught a glimpse of her dreamy expression in the antique mirror. Her skin had a radiant glow and she couldn't seem to get rid of the smile on her face.

"Hey, kiddo, you making me lots of money?"

"Mo! You sound great! You must be feeling better."

"Not a hundred percent, but at least my head isn't pounding like a kettle drum anymore. I paid the price though, I'm bald as a cue ball. How do you think I'll look in a blonde wig?"

"Ravishing. What's more important is you're well again. We can't wait to have you home."

"Ditto. Now, fill me in on what's happening there. Any interesting mail?"

"Hang on a second. It's back on your desk."

Andrea rushed to the office, picked up the extension and read the return addresses on the envelopes to Mo as she sifted through them.

"Whoa! Back up. The one from the city. Read that to me."

Andrea tore open the envelope. "It's an agenda for a meeting at the city council on Thursday."

"Damn! That's tomorrow. I was hoping the final arguments for the rezoning case would be postponed until I got back."

There was a long silence. "Mo?"

"I'm here. I'm thinking." Andrea didn't miss the note of consternation in her friend's voice. "Hmmmm. This is a toughie. Seems like I've done nothing but put you on the spot since you got here last week but . . . I've got to ask you to do me one last favor, and it's a big one."

"Ask away."

She heard Mo sigh. "I need you to go there tomorrow and represent me, but I want to be sure you can handle it."

"Why, what would I have to do?"

"I already have my presentation prepared. It's in the folder in the bottom drawer. All you have to do is read it."

"Why wouldn't I be able to handle that?"

"Because . .. you'll probably be pitted against you-know-who, and from the little I do remember of what you said the other day, if what I think happened between you two when you were out there alone there in the woods, did happen . . . well ..

Andrea suppressed a twinge of uneasiness at the insinuation and cut in quickly, "Don't you worry your little head. It says here the meeting is scheduled for eleven A.M. and Madison won't even be back in town until tomorrow afternoon. Besides, maybe this won't turn out as badly as you think."

"Why? What did he tell you?"

Andrea hesitated. No matter how she tried to fool herself into thinking that it wasn't so, she'd managed to trap herself in the middle of this seemingly no-win battle. "He promised me he would try to resolve it to everyone's satisfaction."

"And you believe him?" Mo's voice rang with sarcasm.

Andrea's heart sank. At that moment she hated herself for loving Madison. "Whatever happens, you know I'm always on your side."

"Thanks a bunch, kiddo. I'm counting on that. Call me tomorrow after the meeting. Adios!"

"Wait! You haven't told me when you're coming back."

"The doctor thinks I'll be up to traveling by Saturday."

"That's super! I know one little boy who's going to be awfully happy to see you."

"It can't come too soon for me either."

Andrea had barely cradled the phone when it rang again.

"Andrea, please," said a woman's voice.

"Speaking."

"Oh, hi. This is Shirley Wilcox from tennis last week. Some of us gals are trying to get a doubles game for this evening if we can get a fourth. Are you interested?"

"What time?"

"Seven. Is that okay?"

She already had Debbie lined up to sit for Christopher and everything seemed to be running smoothly at the restaurant. "As far as I know it should be fine. But give me your number, Shirley, in case things get hectic around here and I can't make it." Andrea jotted down the number as Rose bustled in the door carrying a big box. "Whew! Those people sure know how to give you the runaround."

"What have you got there?" Andrea asked.

"The guest checks. They were supposed to be ready last week." She laid the box on the desk with a dramatic thump and collapsed into the chair, wiping beads of perspiration from her forehead.

"You look tired. Now I feel guilty for accepting a tennis invitation for this evening."

"Nonsense. You've worked like a slave these past two days. We have light reservations tonight and Lee will be here any minute to take care of the phones. I'm just going to sit here, do the books and catch up on back filing."

Andrea tapped her on the shoulder and picked up the money pouch. "Thanks, Rose. I'll make the bank deposit before I get Christopher from school."

Madison loosened his tie and undid the stiff collar of his shirt as he maneuvered the Range Rover through knots of rush hour traffic clogging the Tucson streets. If the freeway wasn't too crowded, he'd be back in Phoenix before dark.

He pushed an Elton John CD into the player and gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. All the parties in the case had been able to reach a workable compromise at the last minute, thus avoiding the court battle he'd geared up for. He'd wanted to call Andrea again to tell her he'd be getting in a day early, but decided to wait and surprise her. With luck, she'd have time to see him tonight. His blood surged at the thought of taking her in his arms again.

They'd only been apart a little over two days, but it felt like forever. He was still overwhelmed by his feelings for her. He felt young and reckless, so utterly different from his usually controlled manner.

Getting back to Phoenix early would also mean he'd be able to make the Council Meeting in the morning himself, rather than send his associate to represent the firm.

Madison reached for the visor to block out the blinding rays of the late afternoon sun and his stomach coiled with elation when he thought again about the idea that had occurred to him last night. If Russell Stanton and Maureen Callaway would both agree to it, the problem of what to do with Sundial House would be solved. More than anything, he wanted to share his plan with Andrea, but decided it would not be prudent until he'd had a chance to convince Russell. He didn't even want to think about what would happen to the relationship between him and Andrea if he couldn't work things out.

It was ten to seven when Madison unlocked the private elevator and stepped into his penthouse apartment The lingering odor of ammonia told him that the cleaning lady had been in earlier. He flung his suit jacket over the back of the bleached oak armchair, grabbed the cordless phone and crossed the expanse of white tile toward the balcony.

He tugged the vertical blinds and slid open the arcadia door with one hand while dialing Andrea's number with the other, as he stepped outside. While he waited for someone to answer, he leaned against the wrought iron railing and marveled at the spectacular view he had of the city, no matter what time of day, what time of year. Spread out before him, encircled by jagged, purple mountains, lay the wide valley glittering like the Crown Jewels in the soft twilight He vowed the next time he stood here, Andrea would be enjoying the sight with him.

Finally the hostess answered. He felt encouraged when she told him Andrea was not at the restaurant. She must be at home with Christopher, he decided. Perhaps he could persuade her to get a sitter and spend the evening with him. He swiftly dialed Maureen's house. The line was busy. Impatient, he redialed. Busy again.

He moved into the kitchen and snapped open a beer, still trying the number. As he was about to press the redial button once again, the phone rang in his hand.

"Hello," he answered expectantly.

"Mack?" He was startled to hear Victoria's voice.

"Hey, stranger, I haven't heard from you in a month of Sundays."

"Where have you been?" She sounded cross. "I've been trying to reach you for hours. I need to talk."

"I have to make one quick call then I'll buzz you right back."

"No! I can't discuss this on the phone. I'm at The Grille Room. How soon can you be here?"

Madison felt somewhat perplexed at Victoria's tone. She'd always been demanding, but never this forceful. Damn, he wished he hadn't answered. Seeing her tonight was not in the cards, but the urgent note in her voice disturbed him.

"Mack, did you hear me?"

"I have plans for tonight."

"Are you my friend or not?"

"That's a dumb question."

Apparently sensing his irritation, her voice took on a note of pleading. "I'm sorry, Mack. I know it's short notice, but . . . I must talk to you tonight. Please?"

Madison sighed heavily. "What am I bailing you out of this time?"

"Not on the phone. Here."

He consulted his watch. He'd give her one hour and if all went well, he'd still be able to see Andrea.

"Okay. I'll just take a few minutes to shower and change." He hung up and tried Andrea's number again. The busy signal droned in his ear.

Madison paused in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the dimly-lit room until he spotted Victoria. Clad in bright red, she was seated near the front window waving to him. He nodded in response and threaded his way through die tables, stopping briefly to acknowledge acquaintances on the way.

He smiled to himself as he drew closer. Because of her celebrity status, Victoria never appeared in public unless dressed to the 9's, her white-blonde hair perfectly coifed, her make-up carefully applied, no matter what ailed her. She was nervously smashing a cigarette into the ashtray as he slid into the chair opposite her.

He shook his head in disapproval. "Are you aware that the rest of the world has stopped smoking?"

Her eyes blazed with irritation. "I'm really not in the mood for a lecture."

He studied her more closely. The dark circles made her amber eyes appear almost cat-like. She looked pale. Something was very wrong.

"Nice to see you too, Vicky," he said quietly, folding his hands in front of him.

"Sorry, Mack." Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the Martini glass to her lips and took a long sip.

"How've you been?"

He smiled. "I'm fine, but I gather you're not. What's the crisis?"

Her eyes misted with tears. "I have a terrible, horrible decision to make and I don't know what to do."

"More horrible than canceling our wedding?"

"Oh, stop! You can't begin to know the guilt I've suffered for breaking up the families." She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin while giving him a sheepish smile. "And for letting you shoulder the blame all this time."

"Well, my shoulders are a lot bigger than yours."

She shook her head. "They threw away the mold when they made you."

"That's true," he said, feigning conceit.

She looked down when the waiter approached their table. "Another Martini, Ma'am?" he asked, removing her empty glass.

She nodded.

"Sir?"

"I'll have the same, and bring me a grilled chicken salad as well." He turned to Victoria. "Have you eaten?"

She shook her head.

"Make that two."

There was a moment of silence after the waiter left, then Madison reached across the table and took her hand. "Okay, let's have it."

"It's about Derek."

He rolled his eyes. "What a surprise." He released her hand and leaned back in his chair. "Let me guess. It took a smart girl like you four long years to realize he'll never leave his wife."

She thrust her chin forward defiantly. "Wrong!"

Madison drew back in surprise. "Oh?"

She fumbled for another cigarette and lit it. "Yes, and that's the problem. Can you imagine what my life's been like these past years? The holidays alone, canceled dates at the last minute, seeing him at parties and pretending we're just co-workers, sneaking around everywhere, the whole damn cloak and dagger existence! Oh, God, it's all been so .. . degrading."

"Whoa! You've lost me. He's finally leaving his wife and you're upset? Why? Is he dumping you for someone else?"

"No, Mack. He wants to marry me."

He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Vicky, quit talking in riddles."

She picked up her cigarette, inhaled and blew out a long stream of smoke. "I found out a few days ago that his wife is pregnant"

Madison gave a low whistle, "He told you he wanted to marry you, but now he's changed his mind."

"No, but now I'm not sure I want him."

"Come on, Vicky, You didn't really believe he wasn't sleeping with his wife."

She blinked away fresh tears. "How could I have been so stupid? I was so positive this was the man I wanted. And to think what I did to you," she said, looking at him mournfully.

"It's all water under the bridge now."

"What should I do, Mack?"

Madison reached for her hand again. "Do you still love him?"

"Yes. But, I don't know if I like him anymore. It's not only because he lied to me, but what kind of a man would leave a pregnant wife?"

Madison gave her a level stare. "I think you just answered your own question."

She said nothing for several seconds, just stared back at him. Then she rose and moved behind his chair, draping her arms around his neck. "You're the greatest, you know that?"

He patted her gently on the arm. "You're not so bad yourself."

"Gotta go powder my nose," she said, sniffing. She took a step, then suddenly turned and kissed him full on the lips. "And to think what I gave up."

Andrea tossed the tennis racket into the back seat and eased behind the wheel, waving good-bye to Shirley as her car left the parking lot. She rolled down the window and filled her lungs with the soft night air, infused with the delicate scent of honeysuckle. It was a beautiful night. Everything was beautiful. Removing the visor, she absently fluffed her hair and took a deep, cleansing breath. She felt invigorated from the game and almost giddy with anticipation at the prospect of seeing Madison when he returned from Tucson tomorrow.

As she slid the key into the ignition, she looked toward the clubhouse dining room directly in front of her. The young couple seated at the table by the window, holding hands, caught her eye. The blonde woman, dressed in red, got up and moved around the table, draping her arms around the the man's neck. When she planted a kiss on his lips, Andrea smiled dreamily. How good love felt.

It was not until they drew apart and the man turned his face to the window that her heart faltered. She craned her head forward. No, it couldn't be. Madison wasn't even in Phoenix. "Oh, my God!" she whispered aloud. It was him!

The intoxicating halo of beauty that had surrounded her these past few days suddenly closed in, suffocating her, shattering around her like walls of glass.

She gripped the steering wheel as her mind frantically tried to expel the horror her eyes were witnessing. She wanted to flee, but sat frozen in shock, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Remembering his touch, his passion, their pledge of love for each other, she tried to make some sense of this living nightmare. She'd trusted him. How could he have been so cruel as to toy with her emotions? And why? Why had he lied? How could he have led her to believe that she was the only one? What a fool she'd been. Hadn't she learned anything from her experience with Bernard, his treachery, his manipulation?

The despair in her heart and the churning in her stomach became one monstrous, gouging pain inside her. It was as though there'd been yet another death in her life.

She'd been unaware of anyone nearby until she felt the door from the adjacent car bump into hers. The tumultuous feelings that had been building inside her came together in an explosion of rage. "Are you out of your mind?" she shrieked to the bewildered man standing next to her in the semi-darkness. "Have you no respect for other people's property?"

"I . . . I'm sorry," he stammered. "I was just trying to get into my car." He smoothed his hand along the paint on her door. "It was barely a tap. There's no harm done."

With the realization that she was unfairly transferring her anger onto this innocent stranger, she opted for a hasty retreat. Shoving the car into reverse, she squealed backward and peeled out of the parking lot, tormenting herself with thoughts of how she'd encouraged Madison, actually seduced him. She'd never done anything so wanton, so brash before in her life. Was it because they'd been at the mercy of the elements that her resistance had weakened, or was it the intimate seclusion, the firelight, the fact that she was so cold and frightened, that she'd needed his closeness to warm her?

"None of the above, you fool," she sobbed. Admit it, Andrea. You let your guard down because you love this man, pure and simple.

She drove aimlessly, oblivious to time and space until, miraculously, she ended up at Mo's house with no memory of how she got there. Dropping her forehead onto the steering wheel, she sat motionless for a few minutes, until the screen door squeaked open. She looked up to see Debbie silhouetted in the doorway.

"Are you all right?" the girl asked.

Just great, Andrea thought. "I'm fine. Sorry I'm late," she said, sliding out of the car.

Debbie held the door open for her as she trudged up the stairs and went inside.

"How'd everything go?" Andrea asked wearily.

"Just dandy. Christopher was in bed by eight." The girl pulled on her shoes, gathered her books from the couch and walked toward the door. "By the way, Mo called to remind you about the meeting tomorrow."

"Oh, I forgot the file," she mumbled.

"Rose dropped it off. I left it on the coffee table," she said over her shoulder as she went out the door.

Andrea tiptoed into Christopher's room and gently tucked the sheet around him. She watched him sleeping peacefully, then left the room, envying his innocence, wishing she were a small child again with only small problems.

She roamed listlessly through the house, tortured by her thoughts, wondering whether there was a plausible explanation for what she'd seen at the clubhouse. What was she doing, making excuses for him?

Stepping out onto the front porch, memories of that first evening with Madison invaded her mind. Absently, she stroked the railing they'd leaned against as they talked. Her throat clogged as she remembered his tender kiss.

She looked up at the sky. There'd been a full moon that night, beaming its blessing down on them. All that remained of that moon now was a thin sliver of light as though it was cowering, retreating from its part in the conspiracy against her, leaving behind a heavy cloak of melancholy.

The sudden jangle of the phone shattered the silence. Before she could reach it, she heard the answering machine click on and froze in her tracks at the sound of Madison's voice.

"Hi, it's me. I finished up in Tucson earlier than expected and I've been trying to reach you, hoping I could see you tonight. I can't wait to show you how much I've missed you. Call me the minute you get in."

She stood still, as though in a stupor. Then anger began to well inside her as she dropped into a chair and banged her fist on the machine. To her horror, she reactivated the message and the deceitful words came pouring out again.

"Stop it! Stop it!" she hissed through clenched teeth, pulling at her hair to arrest the scream that rose in her throat.

"Damn you, damn you, you liar." The words triggered an avalanche of tears and, for what seemed like hours, she sat weeping, surrendering completely to her grief.

After the racking sobs subsided, she sat unmoving in the chair, staring into the darkness until a blessed numbness began to flow through her, bequeathing a curious sense of strength. She'd lived through unhappiness before, she would survive. Squaring her shoulders, she rose from the chair and headed for bed, knowing that she'd already begun the arduous process of resurrecting the protective fortress around her heart.