Crossed Hearts (Matchmaker Trilogy) (2 page)

“Tell me more.”

“You like the city.”

“Tell me, Victoria.”

Again Victoria paused, this time entirely for effect. “It’s in the middle of the woods, and it’s small,” she said with caution.

“Go on.”

“We’re talking mountain retreat here.”

“Yes.”

“There are two rooms—a living area and a bedroom. The nearest town is three miles away. You’d hate it, Leah.”

But Leah wasn’t so sure. She was intimidated by the idea of moving to a suburban neighborhood, but something rustic … It was a new thought, suddenly worth considering. “I don’t know as I could buy it.”

“It’s not for sale,” Victoria said quickly. “But I could easily loan—”

“Rent. It’d have to be a rental.”

“Okay. I could easily rent it to you for a little while. That’s all you’d need to decide whether you can live outside New York. You could view it as a trial run.”

“Are there people nearby?”

“In the town, yes. Not many, mind you, and they’re quiet, private types.”

So much the better, Leah thought. She didn’t care to cope with throngs of new faces. “That’s okay. I could do my work at a mountain cabin without any problem, and if I had books and a tape deck—”

“There’s a community of artists about fifteen miles from the mountain. You once mentioned wanting to learn how to weave. You’d have the perfect opportunity for that.” Victoria considered mentioning Garrick, then ruled against it for the time being. Leah was smiling; she obviously liked what she’d heard so far. It seemed that reverse psychology was the way to go. “It’s not New York,” she reminded her friend gently.

“I know.”

“It’d be a total change.”

“I know.”

“A few minutes ago you said you didn’t want to leave New York.”

“But my apartment’s being stolen from under me, so some change is inevitable.”

“You could still look for another apartment.”

“I could.”

“Or move to the suburbs.”

Leah’s firm head shake sent thick black hair shimmering along the crew neckline of her sweater.

“I want you to think about this, Leah. It’d be a pretty drastic step.”

“True, but not an irrevocable one. If I’m climbing the walls after a week, I can turn around and come back. I really wouldn’t be any worse off than I am now, would I?” She didn’t wait for Victoria to answer. She was feeling more enthused than she had since she’d learned she was losing her loft. “Tell me more about the cabin itself. Is it primitive?”

Victoria laughed. “If you’d had a chance to know Arthur, you’d have the answer to that. Arthur Lesser never did anything primitive. For that matter, you know me. I’m not exactly the rough-it-in-the-wild type, am I?”

Leah had spent time in Victoria’s Park Avenue co-op. It was spacious, stylish, sumptuous. She’d also seen her plush summer place in the Hamptons. But neither Manhattan nor Long Island was a secluded mountain in New Hampshire, and for all her wealth, Victoria wasn’t snobbish. She was just enough of a nonconformist to survive for a stretch on the bare basics.

Leah, who’d never had the kind of wealth that inspired total nonconformity, liked to go into things with her eyes open. “Is the cabin well equipped?”

“When last I saw it, it was,” Victoria said with an innocence that concealed a multitude of sins. “Don’t make a decision now, sweetheart. Think about it for a bit. If you decide to go up there, you’d have to store your furniture. I don’t know how you feel about that.”

“It shouldn’t be difficult.”

“It’d be a pain in the neck.”

“Being ousted from my apartment is a pain in the neck. If movers have to come in, what difference does it make where they take my things? Besides, if I hate it in New Hampshire, I won’t have to worry about my furniture while I look around back here for a place to live.”

“The green room’s yours if you want it.”

Leah grinned. While she’d never have taken a monetary loan, the use of that beautiful room in Victoria’s apartment, where she’d already spent a night or two on occasion, was a security blanket she’d welcome. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Well, you’d better remember it. I’d never forgive myself if, after I talked you into it, you hated the mountains and then didn’t have anywhere to turn.” Actually, Victoria was more worried that Leah would be the one without forgiveness. But it was a risk worth taking. Victoria had gone with her instincts where Deirdre and Neil Hersey were concerned, and things couldn’t have worked out better. Now here was Leah—tall and slender, adorable with her glossy black page boy and bangs, and her huge round glasses with thin red frames. If Leah could meet Garrick …

“I’ll take it,” Leah was saying.

“The green room? Of course you will.”

“No, the cabin. I’ll take the cabin.” Leah wasn’t an impulsive person, but she did know her own mind. When something appealed to her, she saw no point in waffling. Victoria’s mountain retreat sounded like a perfect solution to the problem she’d been grappling with for seventy-two hours straight. It would afford her the time to think things through and decide where to go from there. “Just tell me how much you want for rent.”

Victoria brushed the matter aside with the graceful wave of one hand. “No rush on that. We can discuss it later.”

“I’m paying rent, Victoria. If you don’t let me, the deal’s off.”

“I agreed that you could pay rent, sweetheart. It’s just that I have no idea how much to charge. Why don’t you see what shape things are in when you get there? Then you can pay me whatever you think the place merits.”

“I’d rather pay you in advance.”

“And I’d rather wait.”

“You’re being pertinacious.”

Victoria wasn’t sure what “pertinacious” meant, but she could guess. “That’s right.”

“Fine. I’ll wait as you’ve asked, but so help me, Victoria, if you return my check—”

“I won’t,” Victoria said, fully confident that it wouldn’t come to that. “Have faith, Leah. Have faith.”

*   *   *

L
EAH HAD FAITH
. It grew day by day, along with her enthusiasm. She surprised herself at times, because she truly was a died-in-the-wool urbanite. Yet something about an abrupt change in life-style appealed to her for the very first time. She wondered if it had something to do with her age; perhaps the thirties brought boldness. Or desperation. No, she didn’t want to think that. Perhaps she was simply staging a belated rebellion against the way of life she’d known from birth.

It had been years since she’d taken a vacation, much less one to a remote spot. She remembered short jaunts to Cape Cod with her parents, when she’d been a child and remote had consisted of isolated sand dunes and sunrise sails. The trips she’d taken with her husband had never been remote in any sense. Inevitably they’d been tied to his work, and she’d found them far from relaxing. Richard had been constantly
on,
which wouldn’t have bothered her if he hadn’t been so fussy about how she looked and behaved when she was by his side. Not that she’d given him cause for complaint; she’d been born and bred in the urban arena and knew how to play its games when necessary. Unfortunately Richard’s games had incorporated rules she hadn’t anticipated.

But Leah wasn’t thinking about Richard on the day in late March when she left Manhattan. She was thinking of the gut instinct that told her she was doing the right thing. And she was thinking of the farewell dinner Victoria had insisted on treating her to the night before.

They’d spent the better part of the meal chatting about incidentals. Only when they’d reached dessert did they get around to the nitty-gritty. “You’re all set to go, then?”

“You bet.”

Victoria had had many a qualm in the three weeks since she’d suggested the plan, and in truth, she was feeling a little like a weasel. It was fine and dandy, she knew, to say that she had Leah’s best interests at heart. She was still being manipulative, and Leah was bound to be angry when she discovered the fact. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“There isn’t any air-conditioning.”

“In the mountains? I should hope not.”

“Or phone.”

“So you’ve told me,” Leah said with a smile. “Twice. I’ll give you a call from town once I’m settled.”

Victoria wasn’t sure whether to look forward to that or not. “Did the storage people get all your furniture?”

“This morning.”

“My Lord, that means the bed, too! Where will you sleep tonight?”

“On the floor. And no, I don’t want the green room. I’ve about had it with packing. Everything’s ready to go from my place. All I’ll have to do in the morning is load up the car and take off.”

A night on the bare floor. Victoria felt guiltier than ever, but she knew a stubborn expression when she saw one. “Is the car okay?”

It was a demo Volkswagen Golf that Leah had bought from a dealer three days before. “The car is fine.”

“Can you drive it?”

“Sure can.”

“You haven’t driven in years, Leah.”

“It’s like riding a bike—you never forget how. Isn’t that what you told me two weeks ago? Come on, Victoria. It’s not like you to be a worrywart.”

She was right. Still, Victoria felt uncomfortable. With Deirdre and Neil, there had been a single phone call from each and they’d been on their way. With Leah it had meant three weeks of deception, which seemed to make the crime that much greater.

But what was done was done. Leah’s mind was set. Her arrangements were made. She was going.

Taking a deep breath, Victoria produced first a reassuring smile, then two envelopes from her purse. “Directions to the cabin,” she said, handing over the top one. “I had my secretary type them up, and they’re quite detailed.” Cautiously she watched Leah remove the paper and scan it. She knew the exact moment Leah reached the instructions on the bottom, and responded to her frown by explaining, “Garrick Rodenhiser is a trapper. His cabin is several miles from mine by car, but there’s an old logging trail through the woods that will get you there on foot in no time. In case of emergency you’re to contact him. He’s a good man. He’ll help you in any way he can.”

“Goodness,” Leah murmured distractedly as she reread the directions, “you sound as though you expect trouble.”

“Nonsense. But I do trust Garrick. When I’m up there alone myself, it’s a comfort knowing he’s around.”

“Well—” Leah folded the paper and returned it to the envelope “—I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“So you will be,” Victoria declared, holding out the second envelope. “For Garrick. Deliver it for me?”

Leah took it, then turned it over and over. It was sealed and opaque, with the trapper’s name written on the front in Victoria’s elegant script. “A love letter?” she teased, tapping the tip of the envelope against her nose. “Somehow I can’t imagine you with a craggy old trapper.”

“Craggy old trappers can be very nice.”

“Are there lots of them up there?”

“A few.”

“Don’t they smell?”

Victoria laughed. “That’s precious, Leah.”

“They don’t?”

“Not badly.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, that’s good. Y’know, this trip could well be educational.”

That was, in many ways, how Leah thought of it as she worked her way through the midtown traffic. The car was packed to the hilt with clothing and other essentials, boxes of books, a tape deck and three cases of cassettes, plus sundry supplies. She had dozens of plans, projects to keep her busy over and above the crossword puzzles she intended to create.

Filling her mind with these prospects was in part a defense mechanism, she knew, and it was successful only to a point. There remained a certain wistfulness in leaving the loft where she’d been independent for the first time in her life, saying goodbye to the little man at the corner kiosk from whom she’d bought the
Times
each day, bidding a silent farewell to the theaters and restaurants and museums she wouldn’t be visiting for a while.

The exhaust fumes that surrounded her were as familiar as the traffic. Not so the sense of nostalgia that assailed her as she navigated the Golf through the streets. She’d loved New York from the time she’d been old enough to appreciate it as a city. Her parents’ apartment had been modest by New York standards, but Central Park had been free to all, as had Fifth Avenue, Rockefeller Center and Washington Square.

Memories. A few close friends. The kind of anonymity she liked. Such was New York. But they’d all be there when she returned. Determinedly squaring her shoulders, she thrust off sentimentality in favor of practicality, which at the moment meant avoiding swerving taxis and swarming pedestrians as she headed toward the East River.

Traffic was surprisingly heavy for ten in the morning, and Leah was the kind of driver others either loved or hated. When in doubt she yielded the road, which meant grins on the faces of those who cut her off and impatient honks from those behind her. She was relieved to leave the concrete jungle behind and start north on the thruway.

It was a sunny day, mild for March, a good omen, she decided. Though she’d brought heavier clothes with her, she was glad she’d worn a pair of lightweight knit pants and a loose cashmere sweater for the drive. She was comfortable and increasingly relaxed as she coasted in the limbo between city and country.

By the time she reached the outskirts of Boston, it was two o’clock and she was famished. As eager to stretch as to eat, she pulled into a Burger King on the turnpike and climbed from the car, pausing only to grab for her jacket before heading for the restaurant. The sun was lost behind cloud cover that had gathered since she’d reached the Massachusetts border, and the air had grown chilly. Knowing that she had another three hours of driving before her, and desperately wanting to reach the cabin before dark, she gulped down a burger and a Coke, used the rest rooms, then was quickly on her way again.

The sky darkened progressively. With the New Hampshire border came a light drizzle. So much for good omens, she mused silently as she turned one switch after another until at last she hit paydirt with the windshield wipers. Within half an hour she set them to swishing double time.

It was pouring. Dark, gloomy, cold and wet. Leah thanked her lucky stars that she’d read the directions so many times before she’d left, because she loathed the idea of pulling over to the side of the road even for the briefest of moments. With the typed words neatly etched in her brain, she was able to devote her full concentration to driving.