The Clio docked in St. Petersburg at noon, gliding up the fabled Neva river to her berth at the Old City Harbor. I looked forward to the drive through the city to the Hermitage, where Catherine the Great housed her ever-growing collection of masterpieces. I also looked forward to the dinner at the Grand Hotel Europe.
The announcement of their forthcoming inheritance should please the Riordan siblings. They would never be fond of Sophia, but possibly they might be more inclined to be agreeable. After we returned to the ship, hopefully in a glow of bonhomie, I’d invite Kent to join me in Diogenes Bar. Mahogany and teak and nautical paintings combined with Oriental rugs and muted piano music to create an ultracivilized environment. I’d ask Rosie as well. Between the two of us, surely we could convince Kent that getting home to Heather was more important than confronting Sophia. I’d suggest he talk to the purser, see about arranging a flight home from our next port, Helsinki.
As I strolled toward the breakfast buffet line Thursday morning, I saw Jimmy and Sophia at their usual table. I was reaching for a plate when Kent Riordan strode into the breakfast area, handsome face twisted in a furious scowl. He’d not yet shaved. He wore a T-shirt and shorts and espadrilles.
It didn’t take a crystal ball to figure out what had happened. Heather came home and Angela told her of my call. Angela owed me nothing and I understood her eagerness to share good news. But there was no trace of excitement and joy in Kent’s face. He headed straight for Sophia and Jimmy.
I moved fast, skidded to a stop in front of him. He tried to sidestep me, not recognizing me or not caring.
I grabbed his arm. “Kent.” I spoke sharply, trying to pierce the anger that enveloped him. His arm was rigid beneath my fingers. “I called Angela, found out the truth.”
He stared at me. His breath came in quick, short spurts. “Sophia lied.” His gaze fastened on Sophia. “She lied to Heather. She lied to me. I could kill her.”
“Come with me.” My voice was loud, demanding his attention.
“Get out of my way.” Kent yanked his arm free, tried to go around me.
I moved too.
His only recourse was to pause or knock me down. He grabbed my arm, his hand like steel. “Get—”
“Heather loves you. You would not know that”—I paused between each word for emphasis—“except for me. You would never have known if I hadn’t made inquiries. That has to be worth something to you. You owe me a few minutes of your time. Now.”
He looked at me, saw me.
I pointed toward the deck. “Five minutes. That’s little enough for me to ask.”
“Five minutes.” They might have been words in another language. He loosened his grip. His hand fell away. “Sorry.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to be rude. But—” He twisted toward Sophia. His face was hard again with anger and bitterness.
“Please.” I spoke quietly. “Come out on deck with me.” There was no point in his railing at Sophia. She would never understand the injury she had inflicted.
He hesitated, shot another furious glance toward Sophia, then turned and we walked toward the door. On deck, we went to the stern and stood by the railing.
I welcomed the fresh sea-scented air. The Clio’s massive wake spread a ruffle of white against the dark blue water. Gulls squawked. In the distance, another ship’s deep-throated horn gave greeting. It was high season in the Baltic and gleaming cruise ships passed us every hour or so.
I talked slowly, hoping time would diminish some of his anger. I traced my efforts, contacting Margaret, Margaret’s e-mail, the discrepancy between what she had learned and Val’s revelations at dinner, my talk with Angela.
I held his gaze. “You understand that you would have no future with Heather if I had not intervened.”
His face creased in despair. His big hands bunched into fists. “Heather won’t come back to me.”
I was jolted. “Even though she knows that you didn’t ask Sophia to give her a check?”
He lifted one fist, rubbed his knuckles against his bristly cheek. “She has the sweetest voice.” His eyes were soft, filled with love and longing. “I was still asleep when the phone rang. It was like a miracle to answer the phone and hear her. I couldn’t believe it. On the Baltic and Heather talking to me. I’ve dreamed about her so much, I thought it was a dream. She talked fast, much faster than she ever really does. She said Angela had found out I had nothing to do with Sophia saying I wanted to be free. She wanted me to know she took the check because she thought I was good and kind and it would hurt my feelings if she turned it down, but she couldn’t ever have used any of it. She gave the money to the mission. She said she still loves me, but she knows we weren’t meant to be, that my world is too different, and if my family didn’t want her, then it would be a bad thing for her to take me away from them. She said she’ll always love me”—his voice was hoarse—“but I should find someone who was right for me. She hung up. I called and called and there was no answer. She’d turned off the answering machine. I couldn’t even leave a message. I know she was sitting there, hearing the phone ring and crying. Do you see what Sophia’s done to us? I’m going to tell her—”
“That she interfered when she shouldn’t have? That’s true. Berating Sophia won’t get Heather back. And”—I was emphatic—“you can get Heather back. The minute you get home, you can take Rosie and Val with you and they’ll sweep Heather in their arms, make her welcome. It may take time, but it can be done. It can and will happen, but it can only happen because I made it possible. There’s a quid pro quo, Kent, and I’m calling it due right now.”
The hardness of his face eased. He stared at me, brows bunched, eyes questioning. “What do you want?”
“Promise me you will keep away from Sophia this morning, take the afternoon Hermitage tour with the family—”
He took a step back, scowling.
“—and come with us to the hotel for dinner. Don’t talk to Sophia. When dinner is over”—I couldn’t reveal the announcement Sophia planned to make—“keep your mouth shut, come back to the ship, go to your cabin. That’s what I want.”
He stood with his shoulders hunched, hands jammed into the pockets of his shorts. Obviously the thought of spending time with Sophia galled him. But slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. I saw grudging acceptance in his eyes. He wanted desperately to confront Sophia, but he understood he owed me a debt.
“Do I have your promise?” I held out my hand.
Solemnly he shook it.
Disaster was averted. At least for now. Perhaps I could distract Kent enough that his initial boiling fury would drain away. “Meanwhile, there are a bunch of things you can do to fix up your future with Heather. Wire flowers. Rent a billboard near her apartment, put up a message: ‘Heather, will you marry me? Kent.’ See if you can get a flight out of Helsinki to go home. Send telegrams. Have Val and Rosie send telegrams. Does Heather have a computer? Go up to the Internet lounge, e-mail her—”
“You think she’ll come back to me?” Hope struggled against fear.
“She will come back.” There was no doubt in my mind. To someone in Heather’s precarious financial condition, ten thousand dollars was a fortune. She’d given it away. Oh yes, she loved Kent and love has a way of winning out against all odds.
A huge grin transformed his face, making him young, even more handsome, utterly appealing. A big hand gripped my shoulder. “I can get on the Net?”
I pointed toward the stairs. “Deck 10. Forward. Port side.”
I watched him go, a man in a very big hurry.
I smiled. Perhaps now everything would go smoothly.