Night Heat

‘I guess he sleeps on the plane. It does have a bed.’ And at her astounded expression: ‘The plane belongs to Mr Korda, Sara. He doesn’t have the time to use the scheduled service.’

‘Oh! Oh, I see.’ But it was a bit too much for her to take in. Private planes; private yachts; private islands; it made her wonder how she had had the nerve to stand up to him.

‘So …’ Masters buttered a croissant. ‘Have you settled in? Are your rooms comfortable?’

‘Very,’ Sara assured him, glad to get on to firmer ground. ‘I’ve never slept in a bed on a pedestal before!’

‘And it’s quite some view, isn’t it?’ Masters agreed. ‘If I owned this place, I don’t think I’d ever want to leave.’

‘No.’ Sara silently endorsed his words, content for the moment just to gaze at the ocean.

‘Of course, it depends who you share it with,’ Masters commented after a moment. Wiping his hands on a napkin, he gestured towards the house. ‘I guess this place doesn’t have too many happy associations for Link.’

Sara turned to look at him. ‘No?’ she ventured enquiringly, and consoled her conscience with the thought that the more she knew of the boy’s background, the easier it would be to understand his personality.

‘Mmm.’ Masters seemed to be thinking. ‘You see, the house and the island used to belong to Mrs Korda’s parents.’

‘I know.’ And in explanation: ‘Cora told me.’

‘Ah.’ He grimaced. ‘Well, that’s true. Link stepped in when Michelle’s father got into financial difficulties. If he hadn’t, the old man could have ended up in jail. He was an attorney. He used to handle wills, probate, that kind of thing. But he’d been defrauding his clients for years, setting up trusts in his own name, and using clients’ funds to finance his fancy life style. He was facing an indictment for grand larceny when Link bailed him out. Don’t ask me how he did it, because I don’t know. Maybe he bought up the jury, or the judge—or both.’ He grunted. ‘All I know is, old man de Vere was allowed to live out his days here, on Orchid Key.’

Sara moistened her lips. ‘He’s dead now?’

‘The old man? Yes. I guess he should never have married Michelle’s mother. She’s years younger than he was, and my guess is it was Mrs de Vere who spent all the money.’

She hesitated. ‘Does she still live here?’

‘Hell, no!’ Masters snorted. ‘Mrs de Vere’s like her daughter. Orchid Key’s too quiet for her.’ He paused. ‘She never comes here now.’

‘Not even to see her grandson?’ Sara frowned.

‘Not even for that,’ replied Master wryly. ‘She married again some years ago, and I somehow think a nineteen-year-old grandson would cramp her style.’

Sara was amazed, but she kept her own counsel. She still had questions, of course, dozens of them, not least how Jeff came to have his accident, where he was living at the time, and if it was his choice to live at Orchid Key, or his father’s. But they could wait. Right now, it was time to make the acquaintance of her charge.

Taking a deep breath, she said: ‘Tell me about Jeff: where are his rooms? On the ground floor, I suppose, if he’s confined to bed.’

‘Jeff?’ Grant Masters grimaced. ‘No, Jeff’s rooms aren’t on the first floor—they’re upstairs. There’s a lift at the other end of the hall. I’ll get Cora to show you around later, so you can find your way about without it being a problem.’

‘Thank you.’ But Sara had less interest in the house than its occupant. ‘When can I see Jeff?’

Masters finished his coffee before replying. But then, putting aside his napkin, he made a careless gesture. ‘Whenever you want, I guess. But there’s no hurry.’ His eyes moved speculatively over her shining hair and slim figure. ‘What say I show you over the island this morning? We could swim and get some sun. You do swim, don’t you?’

‘Oh, yes, I can swim,’ Sara agreed diffidently. ‘But I think I ought to meet Jeff first, don’t you? I mean, he is the reason I’m here.’

He sighed, his expression hardening. ‘If you like,’ he essayed, abruptly getting up from the table. ‘Okay, let’s go. Right about now, Keating should be getting him his breakfast. It’s probably a good idea for you to meet him while he’s still comatose.’