A Kiss Too Late

Jen pulled away from Adam, only to find her mother peering out at them. Even from this distance, Jen could see the satisfied glint in her mother’s eyes. Behind Beth Hillard, several other faces peered out with interest, too. It was impossible to tell how long Jen and Adam’s embrace had provided a source of entertainment for the other guests, but Jen’s mother fairly beamed. She gave Adam and Jen a perky little wave from the doors of the ballroom.

“Damn,” Adam said. And Jen had to agree.

CHAPTER FOUR

O UT OF SORTS. That was the only way Adam could describe how he felt this morning. Out of sorts, as if everything in his life had subtly shifted and become just a little displaced. Could he blame this sensation on his problems with the newspaper? Or could it be the fact that his ex-wife was back in town? Back in Newport.

Adam didn’t know the answer. Apparently he didn’t know a whole hell of a lot about his life anymore, and that bothered him as much as anything. He was accustomed to being in control. Not that long ago he’d known exactly where he was headed, but these days it seemed that all the familiar signposts were gone.

For the moment, Adam stood in front of the Newport offices of Hillard Enterprises, the shipping firm that had provided his ex-wife’s family with a substantial fortune over the past few centuries. The firm was a venerable one, originally founded by Jen’s shipbuilding ancestors in the early 1700s. Not that Jen’s forebears had been all that respectable; the family history included tales of smuggling and privateering–more than a few skeletons in the closet. These days, however, Hillard Enterprises occupied itself with the mundane details of supervising its fleets, calculating tonnages and monitoring worldwide freight rates.

Even with branches in New York, San Francisco and London, the firm still maintained its original small building in Newport–almost a museum, really. Adam studied the place: its bricks mellowed with age to an ocher red, the ancient window sashes painted a fresh white as if to belie their years, the hipped roof giving the structure a rather ponderous, top-heavy air. Heritage. The place was all about heritage. It stirred something in Adam, some restlessness he couldn’t quite define. More vague dissatisfaction, it seemed. He didn’t like it, but once again he didn’t seem able to do anything about it. He also didn’t seem able to do anything about the way his ex-wife kept coming to mind. Jen, with her gray eyes and her dark hair tumbling to her shoulders….

Adam pushed open the front door of Hillard Enterprises and passed through a room where relics of the business were carefully preserved: yellowed maps, old-fashioned typewriters and adding machines, framed photographs of Hillard ships through the generations, even a crusty old anchor dating back some two hundred years. Adam climbed a simple, graceful staircase of polished pine, walked down the second-story hallway and knocked on a closed door.

“Come in,” called a voice that quavered just a little, like a scratchy phonograph recording. Adam pushed open the door and walked inside an office where the walls were paneled in more glossy pine. All of this honey-colored wood gave the room an impression of airiness, as if Adam had just stepped into a forest clearing. Jen’s great-uncle William was seated by the window in a slatted chair, taking full advantage of the early-morning sunlight. Recently old William had been complaining that Newport weather had become too brisk even in the summer. William liked to theorize about changes in the earth’s atmosphere, refusing to admit that his own advancing years might account for stiff joints and cold toes.

“Adam–right on time,” William said with obvious approval. Adam shook William’s hand with the requisite formality. He’d known William Hillard all his life, and he also knew how much William appreciated the small grace notes of respect.

Now Adam took a seat across from the elderly gentleman. “You made things sound pretty urgent on the phone, William. I came right over.”

William nodded. “Yes, it’s a matter of some importance. But where is Thomas? He knows we can’t start without him. He does this sort of thing on purpose–”

“Contain yourself, Will,” Thomas Hillard said from the doorway. Thomas, William’s older brother, had turned eighty this year. He walked slowly and stiffly into the room. As stubborn as his sibling, he refused to make concessions to his age and wouldn’t use so much as a cane to help himself get about. The Hillard brothers had other similarities. They were both tall and thin, and they both had snowy white hair. In some ways, however, the two old men were a study in contrasts. William wore outmoded flannel trousers and an equally outmoded cardigan; Thomas wore an elegant, hand-tailored suit. William favored drab, unobtrusive colors; Thomas sported a jaunty red handkerchief in his jacket pocket. The two old guys reminded Adam of a set of mismatched bookends.

William watched with a frown as his brother lowered himself inch by inch into a chair. “You’re almost late, Thomas.”

“Check your watch, Will. I still have fifteen seconds to spare.” Thomas finally settled all the way into his chair and gave Adam a roguish smile. “You’re in for it today, my boy. Will’s on a tear about Jenna.”

Somehow this didn’t come as a surprise to Adam. William was always on a tear about his great-niece.

“I’ll explain, given the chance.” William stared at his older brother, looking peeved, but that was nothing new, either. William always looked peeved with Thomas. “Adam, we’re worried about Jenna. Very worried, I might add–”

“Speak for yourself, Will,” Thomas interrupted. “I’m not worried about Jenna at all. It’s the best thing she could do for herself, kicking up her heels in New York. Let her have at it, that’s what I say.”

William looked more annoyed than ever. Now he pointedly ignored his brother, addressing Adam once again. “We called you here so you could do something about Jenna before it’s too late. This escapade of hers has gone on long enough. Keep her in Newport, Adam. That’s what we’re asking.”

Thomas interrupted once more, lifting a hand that shook slightly. “Calm yourself, Will. I think it’s fine that Jenna wants to be an actress in New York. Just fine.”

Now it was Adam who glanced at Thomas. “Jen? An actress? What are you talking about?”

Thomas’s expression seemed purposely bland. “You haven’t suspected? But it’s true, you know. That’s why Jenna ran away to New York–to become an actress.”

Adam stood and began pacing. This office, for all its sunlight and airiness, felt too confining. Perhaps it was the age of the place, or the age of its inhabitants, but Adam felt restless. Besides, he was having a difficult time accepting this claim Thomas had just made. Jen, an actress. He’d been married to her all those years, and she’d never once mentioned anything about wanting to act.

“It can’t be true,” sputtered William. “It can’t possibly… But, Tom, if you knew something about Jenna, why didn’t you tell me?” William sounded hurt, like a kid asking why he hadn’t been allowed to join the sandlot baseball game. Occasionally that happened–William seeming to echo the long-ago child he’d once been, longing to be let in on his older brother’s secrets.

Thomas appeared pleased to have stirred up a reaction. He was always trying to stir up his younger brother. “I’m telling you about Jen now, Will. Not that it’s a very sporting thing to do–she’s made it clear she doesn’t want anyone to know what she’s up to.”

William looked offended. “You seem to know all about her. Are you implying that she’s confided in you?”

Thomas looked complacent. “Let us say she almost confided. I was speaking with her yesterday, and she started to tell me about her acting class. She tried to catch herself, but it was too late. After that, I made a few phone calls. I still have friends in the theater, you might remember, and I’ve learned that Jenna’s been making the audition rounds in New York.” Old Thomas leaned back with all the satisfaction of someone who’d just displayed his trump card.

“You investigated…and you didn’t tell me,” William muttered.

Adam thought about Jen. She’d always loved to attend the theater, but she’d never confessed to having any serious acting aspirations. It bothered the hell out of him that his own wife hadn’t confided in him….

“Adam, it’s more imperative than ever that you do something about Jenna,” William continued. “It’s absurd for her to be alone in New York chasing some wild fancy. What are the chances she’ll succeed? The odds are against even the most talented…” For just a moment, William sounded forlorn, and Adam could guess why. Almost fifty years ago, William, too, had chased a wild fancy, causing his own brief scandal. He’d announced to his parents that he wished to be a novelist, instead of joining the family shipping concern. Against all their admonishments, he’d moved into a small apartment in Boston and proceeded to write. He’d actually completed a novel and sent it off to one editor after another. Unfortunately even the Hillard name hadn’t helped him sell the book. He’d given up in discouragement and returned quietly to the family fold.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know if his ex-wife had any acting ability or if this really was just some crazy dream of hers. No matter what, though, her great-uncle William was right. The odds were against Jen. She’d chosen a very difficult career, one notorious for its harsh disappointments.

Adam wasn’t prepared for the sudden protectiveness he felt at this moment. Protectiveness for his Jen–

Except that she wasn’t his Jen anymore. Why couldn’t he seem to remember that?

“Adam, you look perturbed,” Thomas commented, a gleam in his eye as if he hoped for a ruckus of some type. “I’ll bet you don’t like the thought of Jenna’s being an actress, either. Maybe you and Will should join forces–lock the poor girl up and prevent her from going back to New York. Between the two of you, I’m sure you could manage it.”

“I’m talking about a realistic plan to dissuade Jenna!” William snapped. “For once in your life, take something seriously, would you?”

“If I took life seriously, I’d be long dead by now. In fact, I’m amazed you’re still ticking away…”

Adam watched the great-uncles go at each other–Thomas trying to stir up a reaction, William obliging him by getting peeved. For decades these brothers had been doing the same thing, locked in familiar, time-worn patterns. Over the years Adam had developed affection for the two difficult old men, but today it was being tested.

He went to the door of the office, glancing back for a moment. “Forget it, William,” he said. “I’m not going to interfere in Jen’s life. Whatever she wants to do, she can do it. I already asked her to come to Newport more often for visits. I can’t ask anything else of her.”

William looked disappointed. Thomas looked disappointed, too, but no doubt for different reasons. He’d probably been hoping to cause more trouble.

“Forget it,” Adam said again, and then he left the offices of Hillard Enterprises, feeling more dissatisfied and out of sorts than ever.

* * *

JEN DISLIKED being here in the rambling garden behind St. Matthew’s Church on Seabell Lane. This place stirred too many conflicting emotions in her, no matter how lovely the surroundings–wisteria vines growing over the arched gate in competition with the yellow trumpet flowers, a forsythia hedge adorning the brick wall, drifts of David’s harp and lady’s mantle spreading a froth of greenery along the walk. This was the same church garden where generations of Hillards and Prescotts had taken tea with a succession of pastors and pastors’ wives. This was also the very same garden where Jen had married Adam twelve years ago. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to remember the promises she’d made that dazzling summer day.

Now it was another dazzling summer day, the sun shining down through a sky as clear and deep and translucent as blue glass. The beauty was lost on Jen. She felt tension radiating along her neck and through her shoulders. She just wanted her mother’s wedding rehearsal to be over and done with, but it hadn’t even started yet. Reverend Kiley was deep in consultation with the under-pastor in regard to some minute detail of protocol, the musicians couldn’t decide where to set up, and the groom had abruptly disappeared ten minutes ago. For that matter, the best man hadn’t yet arrived.

As if she’d compelled his appearance with her thoughts, Adam came walking through the gate. He looked good–he always looked good. Those hints of silver in his hair only made him seem all the more virile, and she knew from experience that his mustache had an unexpected, enticing softness….

Jen curled her fingers into her palms. Adam made her feel as if she were sitting in a darkened theater, watching a movie projected boldly on the screen–a movie in which the leading man overshadowed every other player by the sheer force of his presence.

When would it stop being like this? One glance at Adam, and her tension had turned to something different–a disquieting awareness of him. She watched as he came purposefully toward her. Adam always moved with purpose.

He stopped beside her, his silk tie casually loosened, his shirtsleeves rolled up over strong forearms.

“Hello, Jen,” he said, his gaze intent on her.

“Hello, Adam.”

For a moment it seemed that would be the extent of their conversation. Adam, however, didn’t excuse himself and go off to speak to someone else; that would have been too easy. Instead, he remained beside Jen, allowing the silence between them to grow heavy and potent.