The beard disguised how gaunt Luke had become, but Gray had felt every one of his ribs during their brief hug. It hurt to see, but Luke still flashed a warm smile as he sat down on the bench.
Gray handed him the issue ofGood Housekeeping, open to the inflammatory article about the Magruders. Luke hunkered over it, his eyes moving quickly across the page as he devoured every word.
“The Magruders are on the defensive,” Gray said once Luke finished reading. “Plenty of newspapers picked up on this story and are expressing outrage. A couple of them have undertaken their own test of Magruder products. Their ‘pure’ maple syrup has been found to be chemically flavored corn syrup. Same with their honey. The issue is snowballing, and the Magruders are backpedaling like mad. Every time Clyde makes a campaign speech, people ask him about it.”
“Do you think he can still get elected?”
Gray shrugged. “Impossible to say. He’s a glib speaker, and a lot of powerful interests are still behind him.”
Luke flipped back to the beginning of the article to read it again, a distinct look of satisfaction on his pirate’s face. In the endless days and months ahead, sheer boredom would no doubt drive him to devour every word of the magazine over and over, and Gray shifted uneasily on the bench.
“There’s another article in there,” he said reluctantly. “You can ignore it. The writer completely misinterpreted what she saw.”
Luke glanced up, questions in his eyes. It was better to answer them directly than let Luke’s imagination run wild.
“It’s on page thirty-two.”
Luke flipped to the drippy article that implied Gray was over the moon for Annabelle Larkin. It had been six weeks since he returned to Washington, and they hadn’t exchanged a single word. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t seen her.
Twice he had deliberately loitered outside the Library ofCongress, where she came each day to escort her sister home. He’d told himself it was because he was meeting Caroline and already in that part of town, but it wasn’t true. He just wanted to see Annabelle. He couldn’t explain why. She never noticed him sitting on the park bench across the street, and he fully intended to quit doing it but hadn’t quite yet.
“You’re still seeing Annabelle Larkin?” Luke asked after finishing the article.
“No. She was there and she helped, but we have both moved on. My relationship with her is completely over.”
“Really? Caroline and I both thought she was the only person who could put up with your grayer-than-Gray personality and still be in a good mood.”
Should he tell Luke? He didn’t want to badmouth Annabelle, but Luke deserved to know.
“Annabelle is the one who turned you in. She was out at Windover Landing and found what was inside the raccoon shed.”
Luke’s eyes widened, first in amazement, then relief. “I was afraid it might have been Otis.”
“No fear of that,” Gray said. “In any event, I won’t be seeing Annabelle anymore. It’s over.”
Luke braced his elbows on the table, rubbing his jaw and looking troubled. “Caroline wrote to say that you canceled the sale of thePelican. That you’re going overseas again.”
That was the plan, but as the scorching pain of Annabelle’s betrayal eased, the urge to run had faded. Gray was tired of life at sea. He was ready to settle down, and if it couldn’t be with Annabelle, he would find someone else.
“I’m keeping the ship,” he said. “Otis will be heading out in my place. He’s ready for a new challenge, and he gets along well with Captain Haig. I trust them both.”
“Good!” Luke said. “Caroline is worried sick about you heading out again. She’ll never admit it, but I think she’s in over herhead at the White House, and it would be good if you were nearby.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just reading between the lines of her letters,” Luke said casually, but then he sobered and leaned forward, an earnest expression on his face. “Look, thanks for what you did, hauling that applesauce project across the finish line. Don’t lose momentum now. The Magruders are on the ropes and might be forced to clean up their act, but I suspect they’ll subcontract with other suppliers. Keep your eye on them.”
He rattled off half a dozen tricks the Magruders might use and techniques to sniff them out. He was cold and clinical as he outlined strategy and provided contacts to help get the upper hand.
“Do everything quietly,” Luke urged. “No matter what happens, keep your fingerprints off it. If the Delacroix name gets mixed up in this, it will look like a business rivalry, and it isn’t. This is a crusade for fair play and the health of every person in America who opens a jar of food or buys a pound of coffee.”
“I hear you.” Maybe for the first time in his life, Gray fully heard what Luke was telling him. Gray had always belittled Luke’s activities, but beneath the surface of the bon vivant, it seemed Luke operated with careful, methodical planning and cunning intelligence. How could Gray have underestimated his little brother all these years?
Luke had turned his face to the sun, a slight smile hovering on his mouth as a hint of a breeze softened the prison yard. He gazed at the wispy clouds overhead as though they were the most beautiful works of art in creation.
“How often do they let you out?” Gray asked, dreading the answer.
The way Luke gazed at the sky with that blissful expression didn’t waver. “Not much,” he answered, as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
