Falling Awake Page 9

  “I need to think for a m–minute.” Mostly he needed to clear his brain of the panic that was nibbling at the edges. He should have known that his father would find a way to ruin everything for him, even from beyond the grave.

  A few seconds of silence ticked past. Webber and Amelia waited, their impatience obvious.

  He took a deep breath and reached toward the intercom. “First, I’ll get the word out to the staff that Wright’s departure was the result of a misunderstanding that has been cleared up. I’ll have Mrs. Johnson let it be known that Isabel will be resuming her responsibilities immediately after she returns from a well-earned vacation.”

  Webber nodded wisely. “That may help put a stop to the office gossip.”

  “It shouldn’t be that hard to talk her into returning to her old job,” Amelia added quickly. She looked relieved. “According to her personnel file the only other work she’s qualified for is answering phones at a psychic hotline. She’ll be desperate by now. Make your offer a good one and she’ll come flying back.”

  “Let’s just hope that the two anonymous clients haven’t found out that she’s gone,” Webber muttered darkly.

  Randolph shuddered and punched the intercom. “Mrs. Johnson, has anyone called this office to inquire about Isabel Wright recently?”

  “Why, yes, as a matter of fact there was one call. I explained that Isabel was no longer working here.”

  Webber and Amelia exchanged worried glances.

  Oh, shit. Randolph told himself to stay calm. “Did the caller identify himself, Mrs. Johnson?”

  “It was a woman, sir. I believe she said she was with a credit card company.”

  Randolph allowed himself to take another deep breath. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Webber and Amelia relax slightly. If Isabel Wright had financial problems, that would make it all the easier to convince her to return.

  “From now on, you will refer any and all questions c–concerning Ms. Wright directly to me. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There has been a serious m–misunderstanding, Mrs. Johnson. Isabel Wright was not fired. She is on vacation and will soon return to her position here at the center. Please make certain that everyone else on the staff is aware of that.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sandra Johnson’s voice brightened. “If you don’t mind my saying so, I’m delighted to hear that. I know a lot of other people will feel the same way. Isabel was very well liked around here.”

  “Yes, I got that impression.” Randolph cut the intercom connection. He looked at Webber. “All right, that’s all I can do in the way of damage control for now. The next step is to find Wright and let her know that she still has a job. I’ll get her c-contact address and phone number from HR and call her personally.”

  “As soon as she knows you want her back, she’ll realize that she’s in the driver’s seat,” Webber warned. “She’d be a fool not to try to negotiate an increase in salary.”

  “She can have whatever she wants, including caviar pizza delivered every day for lunch so long as she comes back,” Amelia snapped. “We’re talking about a potential bankruptcy here, in case no one else has noticed.”

  “Trust me, I’ve n-noticed,” Randolph said.

  The anger was so thick in his throat he was about to choke. Damned if he would let the old man do this to him, he thought. The center was the only thing of value he’d ever gotten from his father. The bastard never had any time for him when he was growing up, never showed any signs of approval no matter how hard he tried to please him. Martin Belvedere had cared only about his dream research.

  “The s-sonofabitch set me up for failure,” he said, reaching for the phone. “But I’m not going to let him s-screw me over this time.”

  9

  who was that man I saw you having coffee with yesterday?” Leila asked.

  Startled, Isabel laughed.

  Leila frowned. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing really.” Isabel closed the Kyler Method instructor’s manual she had been studying. “I just realized that it’s been quite a while since anyone asked me that kind of question.”

  Leila’s brows rose. “What kind is that?”

  “One that makes it sound like I might actually have a social life.”

  They were sitting in Leila’s office. All of the Kyler executive suites were first class, Isabel reflected, just like everything else involved in the business, but her sister’s position as vice president ensured a particularly fabulous view. The darkly tinted, floor-to-ceiling windows looked directly out over the bay.

  The elegant space was decorated in rich, warm neutrals with accents of black and Kyler red. The furnishings were expensive, modern pieces imported from Italy. Leila had overseen the interior design of every building at the Kyler headquarters. She had excellent taste.

  But then, that was Leila through and through, Isabel thought. Her younger sister was not only extremely attractive, with her delicate features and excellent figure, she had a natural flair for style. Her hair was streaked with subtle blond highlights and cut into a fashionable bob. Her close-fitting cream-colored silk blouse and camel trousers sent a message of good breeding and refinement.

  They were only two years apart, Isabel reflected, but they had always been opposites in many ways. Leila had played the role of the overachieving good girl, the one who made their fiercely competitive, highly successful executive father proud and pleased their socially ambitious mother.

  From time to time Isabel had tried to warn Leila that her efforts were for naught. It had been clear to her early on that nothing either of them did was going to hold their parents’ marriage together, but Leila kept on trying to do just that by being Miss Perfect.

  Even after their parents had divorced and remarried, Leila continued to be the good daughter. She was the one who brought home the long strings of A’s on her report cards, signed up for endless after-school activities in order to make herself look good to potential college acceptance committees, got elected to the student council and dated the kind of boys who were voted most likely to succeed. She attended an excellent college, established herself as a successful interior designer and topped off her list of accomplishments by marrying Farrell Kyler, a fast-rising executive in their father’s corporation.

  Isabel was well aware that she, on the other hand, had been a major disappointment. She loved her parents and as a child had wanted to please them. But as she grew older, the mysteries of her rapidly developing capacity to dream extreme dreams fascinated and consumed her. She needed answers but no one she talked to even understood her questions.

  She had been labeled an “overly imaginative child inclined to daydream,” a diagnostic understatement if ever there was one, and had spent a lot of time chatting with some very nice people in the counseling profession who tried to get her to participate in more school activities.

  But the long line of therapists failed to draw her away from the consuming strangeness of her dream world. Her life, until she met Martin Belvedere, had been a lonely journey of exploration, self-discovery and low-wage jobs.

  “I saw you with him out on the terrace in front of the café,” Leila explained. “He didn’t seem to be your usual type.”

  That gave her pause. “You really think I have a usual type?”

  “Brian Phillips, Jason Strong and Larry Higgins, for starters.”

  “Huh. I see what you mean.”

  The three were among the handful of men she had dated in recent years. All followed the familiar pattern: a roller-coaster ride that started out with a lot of enthusiastic conversations about their dreams, followed by steep plunges into boredom.

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better,” she continued, “Ellis Cutler is not a hot date. If I’m lucky, however, he may turn out to be a client.”

  “You mean he’s thinking about signing up for your new seminar here at Kyler?”

  “No.” She spread her fingers on the cushions and dug her nails slightly
into the soft leather, bracing herself. “I did some dream analysis work for him while I was at the center. He’s thinking of contracting with me for some more of the same.”

  Leila grimaced. Isabel pretended not to notice. She was used to that look on the faces of her relatives whenever the subject of her career path arose.

  “You’re serious about trying to establish yourself as a freelance dream consultant?” Leila asked.

  Her tone implied that she had moved beyond her initial reaction of acute disapproval and was now resigned to the inevitable.

  That was progress of a sort, Isabel thought, applying the positive thinking techniques she was studying in the Kyler Method manual.

  “Yes,” she said, going for upbeat and optimistic, “but it could take time to build up a client list. That’s why I’m very grateful to you and Farrell for giving me a chance to work as an instructor here for a while.”

  “You’re family,” Leila said flatly. “Can’t have you out begging on the streets.”

  “I don’t know that I would have ended up on the streets,” Isabel said, trying not to let her irritation show. Leila meant well, after all. “If push had come to shove, I could have gone back to my old job.”

  “Answering phones for that psychic hotline operation? Don’t be ridiculous. Mom and Dad were horrified when they found out what you were doing there.”

  “It was a living.”

  “It was an embarrassment.” Leila sighed. “By the way, have you told Mom and Dad that you got fired?”

  “No.” Isabel slouched deeper into the sleek leather sofa. “I learned a long time ago that it’s best if I don’t give them too much information until I’ve settled into a new job. It just upsets them.”

  “I suppose there’s no need to e-mail them the bad news.”

  “Look on the bright side. They’ll be giddy with relief when they find out I’m going to work for you and Farrell for a while.”

  “Yes, but they’re not going to be so thrilled when they find out you’re planning to set yourself up as some sort of psychic dream consultant.”

  “We’ve been through this a million times, Leila. I’ve told you over and over again that I do not consider myself to be psychic.”

  “You’ve worked for at least two so-called professional psychics, to my knowledge.”

  “You know, some folks would say that giving seminars designed to teach people how to tap into the creative potential of their dreams is not a whole lot different from doing psychic dream consulting.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Leila said instantly, outraged. “The Kyler Method is a proven technique that can be applied to any aspect of one’s daily life. There’s no reason it won’t work with dreams.”

  “If you really feel that way,” Isabel said quietly, “would you mind telling me why Farrell doesn’t want me here?”

  Leila froze. “Of course he wants you here. Why do you say he doesn’t?”

  “Call it a wild hunch but every time I run into him in the hall he seems to be looking for a way to avoid me. I get the impression that it wasn’t his idea to offer me this job.”

  Leila’s mouth tightened. “It will work out.”

  “Damn. I knew it. I was afraid of this.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “You convinced him that he had to give me a job because I’m family, didn’t you?”

  “For the past year, Tamsyn and I have been encouraging Farrell to add new courses to the syllabus. Kyler, Inc., must stay competitive. Classes in dreams are trendy. They’ll pull a new market.”

  Her sister’s strange mood sent a trickle of unease through Isabel. “In other words, Farrell did not want to bring me on board as a new instructor. You and Tamsyn pressured him into it, didn’t you? No wonder he isn’t acting real happy to see me.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about Farrell, if I were you.” Leila abruptly rose to her feet. “It certainly isn’t your fault if he isn’t happy. As far as I can tell, nothing pleases him these days.”

  Isabel was shocked by the bitter edge on her sister’s words. “Leila, what’s wrong?”

  For a moment she thought she was not going to get an answer. Then she saw the glint of tears in Leila’s eyes. She leaped off the sofa and hurried around behind the desk to hug her tightly.

  “Tell me,” she whispered.

  Leila said nothing. But the tears spilled down her cheeks.

  Isabel rocked her gently. “Tell me, please. I can’t stand not knowing what’s making you so unhappy.”

  “Oh, Isabel, I’m afraid that Farrell may be turning into a carbon copy of Dad.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true.” Leila yanked a couple of tissues from the box on the desk and blotted her eyes. “It used to be Farrell and me. We were a team. But now it seems to be Farrell and the business. That was the way it always was with Dad, remember? The only thing he cared about was the next big deal.” Leila sniffed into the tissue. “And the next beautiful young wife, of course.”

  “Leila, you aren’t trying to tell me that Farrell has gotten involved with another woman, because I wouldn’t believe it. Not for a moment.”

  “No, of course not.” Leila grabbed another tissue. “Farrell is too honest to cheat on me. But he’s consumed by the business these days. He’s always talking about new directions and goals for Kyler. He spends half the night in his office going over marketing and expansion plans. He even postponed our vacation to Hawaii. Do you know how many dinners I’ve eaten alone in the past month?”

  “Leila, hold on here—”

  “Farrell is absolutely obsessed.” Leila sighed. “Just like Dad.”

  “Whoa, stop right there.” Isabel released her, took a step back and waved her arms to get her sister’s attention. “As I recall, and my memory is quite clear on this point, Farrell has always been passionate about his business.”

  Leila shook her head. “Not the way he is lately. He used to practice the Kyler Method. He always claimed that the hallmark of a good executive was the ability to delegate. He was conscientious about keeping a balance in his life. Until a few months ago, we both left the office at a reasonable hour. We took weekends off. Went to Hawaii a couple of times a year. But lately, Farrell seems driven to devote all of his energy to Kyler, Inc. The company is all he cares about, as far as I can tell.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I always thought you and Farrell had the perfect marriage.”

  “No relationship is perfect.” Leila turned away. “But I am very good at projecting the right image, aren’t I?”

  “Leila?”

  “That’s what I do, isn’t it? Pretend that everything is perfect. I’ve been doing it all my life. Talk about positive thinking. I was doing the Kyler Method before it was even a gleam in Farrell’s eye. I’m the original Pollyanna.”

  Isabel patted her shoulder. “Have you tried talking to Farrell?”

  “Of course. But he always finds a way to avoid the subject. He keeps saying that he just needs a little time. I’m feeling trapped. I’m not sleeping well and when I do sleep, I have the most disturbing dreams about—” She broke off, grimacing. “Never mind.”

  “Hey, it’s okay to go there with me. Dreams are my thing, remember?”

  “No offense, but I don’t need you to tell me that I’m having anxiety dreams. Who wouldn’t in my situation?”

  “Sometimes it helps to talk about them,” Isabel said. “It can clarify issues.”

  “The dreams are about children, Isabel.” Leila tossed the used tissue into the trash. “I don’t think there’s any clarification needed. I intended to be pregnant by now. You know that. I even drew up plans for the nursery.”

  “I know how much you’ve always wanted to be a mother. I thought Farrell was big on having a family, too.”

  “He said we should put it off until Kyler, Inc., was established on a firm footing. And I agreed. But things are going well now and he’s still making excuses. He says the business needs his undivided attention. Re
member how Dad always used to say that whenever he couldn’t make it to a school play or go on vacation with us?”

  “Farrell is not Dad,” Isabel said.

  “I keep telling myself that, but I’m starting to feel so alone, the way Mom must have felt when she realized her marriage was falling apart.”

  “You’re not alone,” Isabel said quietly. “I’m here. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Leila managed a watery smile. “Thanks. You know, I’m sorry you lost your job at the Belvedere Center for Sleep Research but I’m really glad you’re in town for a while.”

  “Trust me, I’m glad to be here, too.” She glanced at her watch. “Got to run. My next class starts in three minutes. Kyler Method instructors are never late. Sets a bad example.”

  “Isabel, about this Ellis Cutler. What, exactly, do you know about him?”

  “Well, he told me that he’s a venture capitalist. Advises start-up companies and finds investors to finance them. You could call him a business consultant, I suppose.”

  Leila frowned. “A business consultant? And he wants to hire you to analyze his dreams?”

  “Go figure, huh?”

  10

  he was waiting for her when she emerged from the seminar room that afternoon. She didn’t see him immediately because she was the last one to leave, but she could feel him. It was like coming too close to an electric fence. Little shocks pulsed through her.

  He was wearing his dark glasses indoors again. She wondered if he wore them to bed and immediately got a sexy vision of him walking toward her across a bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of sunglasses. She felt herself turn violently warm.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying not to look excited.

  “I told you I’d get back to you.”

  “Oh, right.” He’s a potential client. Smile, for heaven’s sake. She smiled. “Have you decided if you want to contract with Wright Dream Analysis?”