She sobered. “Now, tell me how Luke is doing.”
The last thing he wanted to talk about were the cuts and bruises on Luke’s face, the weight loss, the fetid jail cell. Instead he relayed the only piece of truth he could.
“He’s still in good spirits. He categorically denied having a degree from the Naval Academy. He looked me straight in the eye as he said it.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he said truthfully. He relayed the rest of the conversation to her, growing more exhausted with each passing moment.
Caroline noticed. “Don’t look so glum. I’ll work on gettinga presidential pardon for Luke, and then I intend to solve all your problems, too. Maybe Samantha Riley isn’t the perfect woman for you, but I know dozens of other eligible ladies. Just you wait! I’ll find a wife for you yet.”
He snorted. “Please don’t bother.”
“Why not? For pity’s sake, you’reforty, Gray. We don’t have the luxury of time! In the next few months there will be dozens of election parties. I’ll arrange for you to escort a different lady to each one. Trust me. I can have you engaged before the new year.”
He tried not to shudder. It had been difficult enough trying to court Samantha Riley when his heart was still firmly lodged with Annabelle, and that part still hadn’t mended. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Now, Gray,” she said in her best schoolmarm’s voice, “don’t tell me you are still obsessing over that woman.”
He said nothing. The last time he had seen Annabelle was the morning she came to the vanilla distillery to tell him the rumors about Luke. She had walked in on a difficult conversation as he attempted to disentangle himself from the overly eager clutches of Samantha Riley, who couldn’t be more different from Annabelle. He infinitely preferred Annabelle’s wholesome curiosity to Samantha’s coy sophistication.
Caroline bristled. “You and I both know she is an unacceptable choice.”
“Do we?” he finally asked after a long hesitation.
Apparently those were fighting words, for Caroline shot to her feet and began pacing in the narrow kitchen. “Yes, we do. Don’t eventhinkabout reconciling with her.”
The scorn in her voice rubbed him the wrong way. “This isn’t any of your business, Caroline.”
“Don’t forget who she is,” his sister warned. “She’s already stabbed us in the back once, and Dickie says she’s now working with the committee at Agriculture, investigating how to passfood purity laws. Picture it: armies of government bureaucrats tromping through your factory, looking over your shoulder, nosing into your business.”
He instinctively recoiled from the prospect. Once the government got their foot in the door, they wouldn’t stop with inspections. They’d have the power to seize goods, shut down operations, and drive companies out of business.
Then again, if someone had been watching, perhaps the Magruders would never have gotten away with selling tainted coffee.
“Maybe she was right,” he said quietly.
“Bite your tongue!”
“I’m not talking about Luke. I’m talking about adulterated coffee and fake applesauce. About using chemicals to flavor food in ways we can’t even begin to imagine. Maybe the price of freedom in this industry is simply too high.” He flexed his hands, mulling through his options. “Did you ever get your hands on a copy of the contract the Magruders are about to sign with the military?”
She nodded and quickly described the nature of the multi-year contract to supply tons of canned food to military outposts all over the world. Thanks to an avalanche of government regulations, large-scale contracts such as these required public meetings before they could be finalized. It gave journalists the opportunity to observe government spending and competitors a chance to throw their hat into the ring.
“I think I can use the public meeting to force the Magruders to clean up their operations.”
Caroline looked intrigued. “I’d love to score one over the Magruders.”
The only problem was his name. It would be better for the charge to come from someone whose last name wasn’t Delacroix. Ideally, it should come from a government agency that was already on the march, and there was only one.
“Annabelle has connections in the Department of Agriculture. We should get her on board.”
The comment set off a bomb in Caroline.
“Forget about her,” she said. “I have all the connections you need.”
Maybe. But he still wanted Annabelle. “It will look like a personal vendetta if I take the lead on this. I’ve worked with Annabelle before, and she’s up to the task.”
Caroline narrowed her eyes. “Let me be blindingly clear. That woman is poison. She isn’t worthy of you. She’s as bad as Benedict Arnold or Judas Iscariot.”
