Twist of Fate Page 3

  “Tell me more about your vacation plans,” Gideon was saying conversationally as he worked on his curried lamb. “Where in the Caribbean are you going?”

  “To a little island near the U.S. Virgin Islands. It’s called Santa Inez. My aunt had a home there.”

  “Had?” He glanced up politely.

  “She died a couple of months ago. I’m going to go down there and pack up her things, especially her books and notes. According to her will, she wanted me to have them. She lived down there for several years, but she was always something of a recluse. No one but members of the family knew where she’d retired. She forbade us to tell anyone else. A fanatic about privacy.”

  “Were you close, you and your aunt?”

  Hannah thought about that, remembering the vivid, intelligent woman she had seen only occasionally during her life. “I don’t think my aunt was close to anyone, not even her sister, my mother. Aunt Elizabeth was rather a loner. Very brilliant in her field. She was a cultural anthropologist. Her best known work is probably The Amazons of Revelation Island.”

  Gideon looked surprised. “That rings a bell.”

  Hannah chuckled. “Which only goes to prove that somewhere along the line you must have taken a class in cultural anthropology. It’s a classic text in the field. Still being used even though she wrote it in the forties. It was based on work she had done on Revelation Island in the South Pacific.”

  “I don’t really recall too much about it. I’m afraid my interests were more focused on business classes. I only lasted a couple of years in college.” Gideon searched his memory. “Something about a matriarchal society, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. It upset a lot of theories about male-female relationships among primitive peoples. It was very controversial at the time. My aunt didn’t mind being controversial, though.”

  “As I recall the controversy was generated by the fact that no one could ever disprove her conclusions,” Gideon said slowly. “Didn’t something happen to Revelation Island?”

  “It became a strategic piece of ground during World WarII. By the time the U.S. and Japan had fought back and forth across it a few times there wasn’t much left of the original culture, let alone the inhabitants. After the war it became a long-range supply depot for ships. By the time anthropologists got back to Revelation Island in the early sixties everything had changed. There have been a lot of arguments about my aunt’s work but no one has been able to discount it.” Hannah grinned. “A fact my aunt found vastly amusing. She was quite a character. Had absolutely no respect for the formal academic world even though she was a product of it. I think she saw herself more as a philosopher than an anthropologist.”

  “Did she ever marry?”

  “No. Followed a fine tradition of unmarried women, which litters my mother’s side of the family. Back in the last century there was another female relative who was equally outstanding in her field. She never married either.”

  “What field?” Gideon asked.

  “Mathematics. She did very sophisticated work in the area of number theory. And don’t ask me to tell you anything about that. Math is not my strong point. I was strictly liberal arts in college. Then there was the artist. She lived around the turn of the century. Her work brings huge amounts at auctions today. There were a few other maverick ladies in the family whom I’ve heard about over the years.”

  Gideon surveyed her with genuine curiosity. “Are you going to follow in the tradition?”

  Hannah’s eyes gleamed for an instant. “Of not marrying? It has its merits.”

  “Somehow,” he murmured, “I don’t see you as the celibate type.”

  “Who said anything about celibacy?” She took another bite of stuffed salmon and wondered what had possessed her to order salmon in the desert. A mistake. She was spoiled by the fresh fish that was so available in Seattle. “Let’s get back to the main subject here. I assume you’re willing to take my bet?”

  “Don’t ever make the mistake of assuming too much about me, Hannah. I could be here simply because I didn’t have anything better to do this evening.”

  “You don’t have anything better to do. What’s your alternative? Pick up some blond bimbo of a showgirl whose main concern is getting you to spend money on her? You can do that anytime. How often can you play a game such as the one I’m providing? Even here in Vegas, this will be a novelty.”

  “You seem awfully sure you’re going to win.”

  Hannah sucked in her breath, knowing now that he was going to do it. “I have a chance. If I can’t convince you to play then there’s no chance at all. My brother will ultimately lose Accelerated Design. All he can do at this point is stall and make the takeover process as expensive as possible for you.”

  “Assumptions. You really ought to be cautious about making assumptions, Hannah.”

  She waved that aside. “I’ve got a pack of cards in my purse. We’ll draw for high card when they clear the dishes. The staff will assume we’re just cutting the cards to see who pays for dinner.”

  He watched her face for a long moment. Then he appeared to reach a decision. Hannah had the feeling that he always made decisions that way—quick and sure. It was another piece of the puzzle.

  “All right, guidance counselor. I’ll take the bet.”

  “Yes. I thought you would.”

  Without a word she removed the deck of cards from her leather shoulder bag while the busboy cleared the table. Her hands were trembling. Why on earth was that? She had nothing to lose. But her fingers were still shaking faintly as she handed Gideon the pack. Dear God, the man was no doubt very good at cards. Her only hope lay in the fact that he would not expect her to cheat. She knew her own image, knew how most people perceived her. Pleasant and innocuous were two common adjectives she suspected appeared frequently in the minds of other people when they looked at her. She didn’t have the sort of face people thought belonged to a woman capable of blatant cheating. Guidance counselors tended to cultivate a sincere look. Or perhaps they were just born with it.

  Carelessly, as if nothing at all were riding on the outcome, Gideon shuffled. Then he handed back the cards. His eyes never left her face as she fanned the pack out in a giant arc across the white table cloth. She looked up.

  “You can go first.”

  He reached forward and unhesitatingly flipped over a card. “Three of clubs.”

  She had to do this without being obvious, Hannah told herself. Her palm was damp as she turned over a ten of diamonds. The relief was in her eyes. She knew it but couldn’t disguise the emotion.

  Mouth curving ironically, Gideon drew a six of hearts. Then he leaned his chin on his hand and waited.

  Hannah was aware of an extra strong stab of pain from her knee. Tension, she assured herself. Pure, unadulterated tension. She put out her hand and removed the king of hearts. She didn’t dare meet Gideon’s eyes for several taut seconds. She tried to massage her knee again without being obvious about it.

  “It looks like you’ve just won control of Accelerated Design for your brother.”

  He was so casual about it. “Is this the way you always play here in Vegas? As if it truly doesn’t matter?” she whispered.

  “I have a rule, Hannah. I never gamble on anything that really matters. Remember that when you go home.” He got to his feet and handed her the cane. “Are you ready? You look a little wrung out.”

  “I feel a little wrung out.” She stood awkwardly, not sure if the unsteadiness was from nerves or pain. Perhaps it didn’t matter. She’d won. Silently she allowed herself to be escorted out of the restaurant. The clanging of slot machines and the low hubbub of the casino gaming floor greeted them. It was impossible to get anywhere in a Las Vegas casino without having to cross the gambling arena. Suggestive selling. But tonight Hannah wasn’t buying. She’d already done her gambling for the evening.

  She pushed back a curl that had escaped the tortoise-shell comb she was wearing. Something inside her was bubbling with unnatural energy.
The relief she felt was almost overwhelming. It made her lightheaded. She halted abruptly and put her free hand on Gideon’s arm.

  “Thank you, Gideon.”

  He lifted a hand and coiled one curl around his finger, eyes pensive. “You’re sure I’ll abide by the outcome of that stupid game?”

  “Yes,” she said simply. “I’m sure.”

  “What makes you so positive, guidance counselor?”

  She smiled tremulously. “I told you, I have an instinct for people. You’ve agreed not to take over my brother’s firm. I know you’ll honor your word. You know, if you give it some thought, you might learn something from what happened here tonight, Gideon. Trust me. I’m not even going to charge you for the advice.”

  He moved his head in a gesture of disbelief. “You think that by making me alter my plans for one business deal you’ve broken my bad habit of always winning?”

  “It’s a start.”

  “Christ, lady, you’re an idiot. But an amusing idiot. You really believe what you’re saying, don’t you?”

  “All you have to do is stop and think about what you did tonight,” she told him earnestly. The ever present urge to put someone on the right path was breaking free inside her again. She wished she could restrain herself, but the temptation to try straightening someone out was too great to resist. She was so damn good at it. “You can use this experience as a turning point. From now on you can analyze future business deals in a different light. Decide what you really want and only go after the things that are important. You didn’t need Accelerated Design. Winning just for the sake of winning isn’t very satisfying in the long run. The high you get can’t last, and it’s never quite as good the next time. The only thing that makes winning work at all is the threat of losing. That threat hasn’t existed for you for a long time. The adrenaline won’t give you what you think you need. Not for much longer. You’ve been living off of it for too long. I think your life has become severely unbalanced because of it. Everyone needs balance in their lives, Gideon.”

  “At least in Vegas the dealers don’t treat you to a short session of psychoanalysis after the game.”

  “No, I suppose they don’t. Maybe they should. But I guess it wouldn’t be good for business.” Hannah stepped away from him, releasing the light grip on his arm. “I’m only trying to tell you that there are other things in life besides making the next business kill. You should start looking for them before it’s too late.”

  “You’re trying to save me from myself?”

  She tilted her head to one side, studying him. “As a professional guidance counselor, I can’t resist the challenge. I can’t help giving advice sometimes. Occupational hazard, I suppose.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s ever tried to save me before.”

  “Someday you must let me know if I succeeded.”

  “Someday I will.” He touched her shoulder as she started to turn away from him. “Hannah, there’s just one other thing.”

  She froze. “What’s that?”

  “Could I have your deck of cards?”

  Her leg began to throb in earnest. “Why?”

  “Just as a souvenir.”

  She managed a smile. “I was going to keep them myself for that very reason.”

  He nodded and made no further comment. But much later that evening, alone in her hotel room, Hannah fished around in her purse for a pain tablet and noticed that the deck of cards was missing. The knowledge haunted her all the way back to Seattle.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THERE WAS A CAR that she couldn’t quite see in the blinding rain, a guardrail that couldn’t withstand the impact of a swerving Toyota, the bite of seat belts as they took hold and then the odd feeling of weightlessness. The weightlessness lingered longer than usual.

  For the third or fourth time Hannah swam up out of the anesthetic haze, and on this occasion she was able to stay awake long enough to register both her brother’s presence in the room and the pain in her leg.

  “I thought it wasn’t going to hurt anymore.”

  The disappointment and resentment she felt at the continuation of the agony in her leg was almost childish. It was probably the remains of the anesthesia in her blood stream that made her sound as though she were near tears. Mustn’t whine, Hannah thought. She had promised herself she wouldn’t whine. She hoped Nick would ignore the precarious state of her emotions.

  Her brother turned away from the window as he heard her voice, coming toward the bed with a concerned expression. In Nick the tawny hair that Hannah had inherited from their mother had come out almost blond. His hazel eyes leaned more toward true green than Hannah’s did. He was a good deal taller than his sister, almost six feet, and built without her obvious tendency toward softness. At twenty-nine, he worked out frequently and took pride in his lean frame. He was a natural for the successful Yuppie life-style. It made Hannah tired just to look at him after he’d been running.

  Her younger brother was not a puzzle for Hannah. She’d worked him out long ago as she’d watched his sharp, technical mind evolve along with a healthy ambition. One of the new breed of incredibly young, incredibly bright men who had found their niche in the world of high tech, Nick Jessett had come too far, too quickly. He’d become arrogant during the past couple of years as his Bellevue-based firm exploded with success, but Hannah had been tolerant, knowing that sooner or later reality would catch up with him and that he was intelligent enough to learn from the experience. She hadn’t expected reality to take the shape of Gideon Cage or to be so very nearly disastrous.

  “How are you feeling?” Nick asked.

  “Terrible.”

  “The doctor says that’s normal.”

  Hannah stirred restlessly and then stilled as her bandaged leg reminded her forcibly of its presence. “He didn’t mention that before the operation. Probably figured I’d cancel the whole thing. I might have if I’d known it was going to be this bad. God, it hurts, Nick.”

  “You’ll be much better in a couple of days.”

  “Sure.” She didn’t believe it.

  Nick’s hand tightened on the bed railing. “Jesus, Hannah, every time I think of you in that car and of how bad it could have been….” His voice trailed off.

  “I know, I know,” she soothed. “I realize I should be counting my lucky stars that I got away with only some bruises and this bad leg. It’s just that right now it’s hard to count lucky stars. I’d rather count decimal places in a malpractice suit.”

  “The nurses say Dr. Englehardt did a fantastic job,” Nick told her anxiously.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on suing the man.” She managed a weary smile. “I must look awfully bad if you can’t tell when I’m joking.”

  “Well, you’re not at your best. Actually, you look pretty rotten at the moment.”

  “Honesty, thy name is younger brother.” The dark relief of sleep was pulling at her again and the complaint came out slightly blurred. But there was something she wanted to ask before she surrendered again to the dreams. Something to do with spiders and snakes.

  “Don’t try to stay awake on my account,” Nick said softly. “Get some sleep, Hannah. I’ll be back this evening.”

  “Nick, what happened with Cage and the takeover bid? Everything’s okay now, isn’t it? He dropped the attack on Accelerated Design?”

  “Let’s just say he made his final move. It’s all over, Hannah.”

  The words didn’t sound right. They weren’t sufficiently reassuring. With grim effort Hannah managed to stay awake a moment longer. “He’s left you alone, hasn’t he? He promised he would.”

  Her last conscious thought was that her brother looked unaccountably somber. “He’s out of the picture, Hannah.”

  The relief she felt was marred by Nick’s next sentence. “I just hope to hell you didn’t sleep with him because then we both would have been had.”

  The next time she awoke with any alertness was the following morning. Hannah kept her eyes closed while s
he probed for sensation in her left leg. The pain seemed to be down to a dull throb. She decided to risk lifting her lashes. The first thing she saw was a bouquet of yellow roses and she grinned idiotically. If they were from Nick, they represented a great leap forward in his social development. If they were from her parents back East, they were appropriate and expected. If they were from someone on campus, they were very interesting. She reached out and picked up the card.

  Be careful not to ask for what you want.

  You just might get it.

  Hannah’s grin faded abruptly. Instinct warned her what the name on the card would be a split second before she read it. A local florist, apparently trying for an exotic touch, had used calligraphy to write Gideon Cage underneath the message. Nick’s ominous words from the previous afternoon flashed into Hannah’s bemused brain.

  “Oh, hell.”

  A nurse popped into the room and caught the muttered words. “Leg still hurting? Only to be expected. You’ve got a long way to go before you’re fully recovered. But each day will be a little better than the last and in a couple of months you’ll be as good as new.” The woman smiled the determinedly cheerful smile of the professional nurse who saves real sympathy for real suffering. She wasn’t going to waste any on Hannah, apparently. She was wearing a name tag that identified her as Mrs. Broadcourt. “Doctor wants you on your feet as soon as possible. You’re to start physical therapy this afternoon.”

  Hannah looked at her. “Are you kidding? I’ll be lucky to make it from here to the bathroom.”

  The nurse smiled even more broadly. “If you need a bedpan, just ring for George.”

  “George?”

  “He’s on duty from eight to five this week. He’ll be glad to assist you.”

  Hannah contemplated being assisted with a bedpan by a male nurse. She reminded herself of how wonderful it was that men were getting into nursing these days and discovering the nurturing side of their personalities. She thought about the young male sophomore she had guided toward a nursing career that spring, knowing instinctively that he would be happy in a caring profession. And then she assessed the distance from the bed to the bathroom.