Strauss took off his gla.s.ses and rubbed them furiously with his linen handkerchief. After returning the heavy gla.s.ses to his face, Henry sat straight in his chair and faced his former boss.

"I've been doing everything possible to ensure that the extent of MacKenzie's ruin remains quiet. At least until after the auction."

"You have not been entirely successful, have you?"

Strauss's eyes were haunted. "No."

"The stock is falling."

"A few points. It happens."

"We both know that is only the beginning. The pattern is too obvious. They will plummet."

Color rose along Strauss's collar.

"Has it not occurred to you, Henry, that someone is deliberately leaking this information? That someone wants me out?"

Strauss's silence spoke volumes.

"I see that it has. Well, that someone is going to a lot of trouble for naught." C.W. proffered a cold, silent stare. When he spoke his voice was hard. "I have returned to New York because I have made a decision."

Henry leaned forward slightly. His ears almost wagged in their attentiveness.

"I intend to resign from the bank."

The surprise was evident in Henry's face. He was, for the moment, speechless.

"The fact is the loans bear my name. The bank cannot afford another scandal." He leaned forward on the table. "Nor, frankly, can I."

Relief visibly flooded Strauss's face. His chest actually heaved. "I am sorry it came to this," Strauss said. "Your immediate resignation may very well prevent further action." His eyes widened slightly. Henry had slipped, for a fraction of a second, but it revealed too much knowledge. They both knew it.

C.W.'s response was visceral. He wanted to go in for the kill.

"Somebody set you up," Henry said quickly, offering C.W. a look of conspiracy. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have found out who."

C.W. tapped his fingers together. "That somebody is either Sidney Teller or Agatha Blair. Any comments?"

"Sidney Teller. Got to be. He's had a bad year, and his name will be tied to this MacKenzie fiasco as well."

"Yes, but I'll take the fall for the MacKenzie scandal. With my sister's share of stock, Sidney would be able to pull out from under and rebuild the stockholders' confidence."

"That may be a problem. Apparently-" he shuffled his papers "-their marriage is in trouble."

C.W.'s gaze sharpened. He observed the slight smugness in Strauss's features. Gossipy old woman, he thought with distaste. Still, the comment rankled.

"Yes. Well. My resignation should ensure that no scandal touches the bank." He paused to capture Henry's full attention. "You'll pa.s.s the word on, I trust?"

Henry Strauss did not even shift his weight. C.W. realized that the man was incapable of feeling guilt.

Henry waited, with surprising calm, for Charles's next move.

C.W. leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee. He wanted to enjoy the moment. "I'd like your resignation," he said in an icy voice.

Henry sat up straighter in the cheap chair. "What do you mean?"

"Don't be a fool, or take me for one. You were the one who processed the loans."

"You have no proof of that."

"No, that is true. But it's only a matter of time."

For the first time, Henry smiled. It was a faint, sickly move of his muscles. The smile of a man pulling his last trick.

"You're finished, Charles. Your reputation's shot. n.o.body would consider risking their neck for you. Quite simply, dear boy, you can't do anything anymore." He eased back in his chair with relaxed arrogance.

C.W. gripped the arms of the chair lest he reach out and grip Strauss by his fat neck. Fury surged through his veins. At his peak Strauss would never have dared such a comment. That he dared now meant he was confident of the power behind him. Fool.

Strauss was watching him now, with those pale gray eyes, gauging his reaction. C.W. would not give him the satisfaction of revealing his anger. He stood up, abruptly terminating the interview. When he turned to face Henry, he offered not anger, not fear, only boredom.

"You are a small fish, Henry. As I said, I am after the whale."

Henry's lids fluttered, but he staunchly fixed his smile.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I should think it was rather simple. I no longer need you. You are entirely expendable, which I am sure someone else figured when he-or she-sent you here today."

Henry shifted his gaze to the TV and stared at the blank screen with seeming avid interest while a small muscle worked in his cheek.

C.W. closed the books on the table before him and neatly stacked them. When he spoke, it was as in summary of a long, unspoken lecture.

"I cannot put you in jail, where you belong. So instead I will personally see to it that you are never hired in a position of trust or authority again. To put it simply, you are through."

C.W. paused, briefly, changing to a menacing tone. "I will destroy you."

Henry looked back now and C.W. leaned forward slightly.

"Investment by investment, dollar by dollar. You will never realize your newfound profits. I shall pursue you, relentlessly, until you truly understand the meaning of finished. You know me, Henry. You know I can do this. Easily. You know I will."

For the first time, Henry Strauss looked afraid.

Now, only now, did C.W. ease into a smile. The knowing smile of a man with great power and wealth. Of a man in complete control.

"You may go now."

C.W. didn't watch Strauss leave. Whether he ran under the skirts of Agatha Blair or off the nearest bridge, he didn't care. Soon, it would all become perfectly clear.

C.W. walked again to the window and looked out at the blur of traffic lights. Slowly, he brought his hand to the curtain and squeezed the grimy Herculon fabric into a tight ball in his fist. A gut-wrenching realization surged through his veins.

My G.o.d, he had enjoyed it.

Watching Henry squirm. Playing with him like a cat with a fat mouse. He had relished the power that only his immense wealth and influence could wield. It was like a drug, an addiction. One entirely more seductive than alcohol ever was. Tonight he tasted it again, after a year, and it was intoxicatingly sweet.

He brought his hand to his forehead and rubbed it hard.

"I've got to get out of here," he swore under his breath. "Got to get out of this business. If I don't, I'm going to kill someone else."

C.W. stood and stared out the grimy hotel window at the autumn moon. He wanted to go home.

Miles away, Nora stared out at the same moon. The air outdoors was too temperate for October and too inviting for a troubled soul. She couldn't breathe in the stagnant air of the house. Three times she paced the floor. On the fourth round she grabbed her jacket and headed down the dark road. She walked fast, her boots kicking rocks down the steep incline. The sound of her footfall in the gravel echoed in the dark.

It was a black night. The moon, shadowed by the drifting clouds, left eerie patterns upon the woods. Only the light from her flashlight cut through the darkness, bobbing on the road ahead as she marched down the hill. She didn't know where she was going. She wasn't afraid. Whatever menace this mountain held was minor compared to the disaster that loomed outside it.

As she rounded the final curve and entered the lower pasture, she pa.s.sed the rams, Studly and Brutus, in their small fenced part.i.tion. The stud and the teaser-what a pair, she thought as she stopped to flash the light upon them. Studly stood at attention, ears p.r.i.c.ked. Beside him, lying in the tall gra.s.s, Brutus eyed her lazily. Which was C.W.?

As she approached the barn, she heard the rustle of a large animal along the fence. The hairs on her neck stood as she stopped short and swung her flashlight toward the noise.

"The Bible says not to hide your light under a bushel, but you don't have to blind a soul with it, neither."

"Seth," she cried in relief. She moved the light away from his face and walked toward the figure leaning on the railing of the fence. She wondered how the rotted wood supported his heavy frame. "What are you doing out here at this time of the night?"

"I might ask you the same question."

"I needed a walk."

She sensed his nod in the darkness.

"If you flick off that light, your eyes will get used to the dark and your senses will pick up the rest. Go ahead. Trust your senses, like the animals do."

She clicked off the light and closed her eyes while she took long, deep breaths. The pounding of her heart subsided and she stood, motionless, in the darkness. As she stood, she became aware of a new world of sounds and sensations. The wind caressed her cheeks with its cool, dry breath. The air smelled sweet, like water.

And she heard the nightsongs. The sheep were quiet, and from the distance she heard the music of Seth's c.o.o.n dogs baying at the moon and the mysterious, atonal cry of an owl. When the howling ceased, to her ears sprang the raspy sound of dried stalks rustling in the wind. A branch snapped to her left-a rustling beyond. The quiet was so intense she could almost hear the clouds move in the sky.

When she opened her eyes again, the darkness was not nearly so black. In the distance she could make out the conical forms of pines, the lines of fence posts, and scattered within their borders, round bales of hay resembling sleeping beasts in the fields. She followed the shadows as they crept across the pasture to Seth's face. He was watching her with eyes as knowing as the owl.

"I see. It's beautiful here at night, so peaceful. Do you come out often?"

He turned to lean again over the fence. "Most nights. Nights like tonight. Something's in the air." He turned his face toward her. "What do you hear?"

She p.r.i.c.ked her ears and closed her eyes. After a moment's silence she replied, "I hear-or feel-change."

He didn't reply but brought his hand to his chin and looked up at the sky. Slowly, his gaze shifted from the sky to her face. "Some people have an instinct about Nature, her animals and her garden. They're just born with it. Sure, anybody can learn her signs and signals. But some, well, they can hear her direct. I like to think I can. I think you do too."

She looked up, surprised. "Me?"

"Yeh-up. I've watched you with the animals. You and them understand each other. Go with your instincts."

"I don't trust them."

"If'n you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?"

She thought of C.W.'s same words. And Oma's.

"When I close my eyes like this, I feel a peace so deep it stretches beyond this world. I feel if I can just go on living like I am now, working hard, loving hard, all will be right. But then the outside's realities. .h.i.t hard. Bills to pay, pipes to fix, my problems with the estate, New York. Doubts. Before I know it I'm caught in the grind, and I'm struggling so hard to keep it going that I forget the inner peace I had. And I'm lost. I make mistakes." She shook her head. "I'm rambling."

"When you get all screwed up inside, that's when you should git your nails into the soil. When you're busy, the whole world may be going to h.e.l.l, but you ain't got time to worry about the details."

"Seth." Nora laughed.

He pursed his lips and scrunched his weathered face. With his missing teeth, Nora thought he looked like an ancient wise man or a shaman.

"When you gonna ask me what you really want to know?"

Nora's head bobbed up. "What do you mean?"

"A ewe don't b.u.t.t against a bucket lest she wants some grain. You've been walkin' around, kickin' up the dirt, and sniffin' for something. I can't give an answer lest I knows the question."

Nora blushed in the dark. It was no wonder his family adored him. "Seth, how well do you know C.W.?"

"Well enough."

His answer was quick, his lips tight. She shuffled her feet, knowing he wasn't going to offer details even if he knew them. "Do you trust him?"

"With my life." He rubbed his bristle and gave her a quizzical look.

She needed someone to talk to. Some sage advice. Yet, what could she ask? Does C.W. have a dark past? Should I link my future to his? All were questions she had to ask herself.

"Well." She paused, letting him know she understood his reluctance to talk about C.W. "It's late. I'd better get going."

"Yeh-up."

"Good night, Seth. See you in the morning."

"Bright and early."

She turned to walk back up the mountain.

"It's a long road up," he called after her. "Take small steps."

She nodded and savored his words.

On the way up the mountain, she felt the strain of the climb, pausing as she rounded Mike's Bench. Moss clung thick to the marble. Like a silent film, visions of her years with Mike played in her mind. The early, happy years, when love was so easy to give and take. The later years, when ambition dominated, when time together grew short and silences grew long. Their love was lost before either of them realized it, and once realized, apathy gave rise to cruelty. In war, there can only be the victor and the vanquished.

Love wasn't all that was lost in those years. Nora lost her values, her dreams, and worst of all, her self-esteem. Now she had them back; she'd worked hard for them.

Tonight she felt she was standing with one foot in her past and one foot in her future. It was time for her to listen. It was time to trust her instincts. It was time to forgive and, though not forget, to move on.

Nora looked at the bench, and like a visitor at a grave, made peace with her past. She forgave Mike. She forgave Esther. Mostly, Nora forgave herself.