That realization took on even greater meaning in the course of the next few weeks.Summer ended, Labor Day came and went, and business in the city picked up where it had left off.Hillary had dinner with Cutter one night.A week after that, she had lunch with Pam.In both of them she found an air of expectancy.At her prodding, both admitted that it had to do with the company.
One part of her—the part that had loved him for years—wanted to warn John.In her mind’s eye, he stood alone, arrogant and, therefore, defenseless.He had been wrong about the legacy, the beating, and the abortion.He had been wrong about a slew of other things.But he was in for a fall.She felt it in her gut.He was in for a fall, and a part of her still wanted to help him.
She didn’t see how she could warn him.She couldn’t betray Cutter and Pam, after the way they had trusted her.Besides, she hadn’t been in contact with John since the night she had told him off.She thought of calling himnow, just to reestablish some sort of contact.But she feared he would hang up on her, and that would hurt.
In truth, she still loved him.She hated him for not loving her back, but she did love him.Her love was insane.Cutter told her so, Pam did, and Arlan did, and she knew they were right.But she couldn’t help what she felt.It was visceral, not rational.She couldn’t turn it off with a snap of her fingers.It was buried deep inside her and had been for twenty-seven long years.
John was part of her.He was the one person who had shaped her more than any other.She had learned that over the past few months.Revenge may have spurred her to write the book, but John was a force behind it in more ways than that.If she had become a dedicated writer over the years, it was to win his praise, far more than to distinguish herself from her family.If she wrote to exorcise her personal frustration, he was at the root of that frustration.
She wished it weren’t so.She wished she didn’t care what happened to him.She wished she hated him more than she loved him.But she didn’t.Whatever his fate, it would touch her.
That was why, when Pam called her on a cloudy Sunday in late September with the news that she and Cutter were meeting with John in the library of the Beacon Hill townhouse the following morning, she asked if she could come.
Chapter 27
For years Cutter had imagined setting foot inside the townhouse on Beacon Hill.He had imagined what it would look like, and imagined the sense of triumph he would feel.He hadn’t counted on the sense of disappointment he felt as he followed Christian toward the library.The townhouse looked well kept and attractive.It was traditional in decor, although it had recently been redecorated.It was perfect in the same way as dozens of other houses he’d seen were perfect.It had no distinctive character whatsoever.
He didn’t have time to dwell on the sadness of that, or on how different things might have looked had Eugene lived there.Christian opened the double doors and gestured him in with the aristocratic tip of his head.Feeling a sense of anticipation, Cutter went forward.The moment had been a long, long time in coming.
Pam was sitting on a leather sofa looking beautiful.The sight of her enhanced the anticipation he felt.Brendan was by her side, looking twenty years older than he had when Cutter had seen him last.He immediately went over and offered his hand.
“Good to see you Brendan,” he said quietly, meaning it.“How are you feeling?”
Brendan gave a dubious shrug with one brow, then relented, smiled, and nodded.
“Cutter, do you remember my mother?”Pam asked.
He heard tension in her voice along with excitement, and tried to encourage her with a look before he turned to the other side of the room, where Patricia sat in a wheelchair.He had known she would be there.He had also known what she would look like, since Pam had described her to him more than once.It had been years since he’d seen her himself.She looked older now, but lovely in a fragile sort of way.She also looked extremely nervous and vulnerable, both of which he could understand.She hadn’t been in the townhouse since the day of the accident.
He held out a hand, and, out of gut protectiveness, when she put hers in it, he covered it with his free one.Softly he said, “It’s good to see you again, Mrs.St.George.I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m not sure I am,” Patricia whispered.
He smiled and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it to greet thé man standing nearby.“It’s a pleasure, Dr.Grossman.”
“Same here.”
Cutter had never met Bob before, but he liked him on sight.Pam said he was good to Patricia, even in love withher.Aside from that, Cutter was grateful for the support Bob had given Pam over the years.
He hoped some of that gratitude showed in his look, because in the next instant anything remotely relating to pleasure or gratitude vanished from his face.With no one else present in the room to divert him, he turned at last to John.
He had seen the man over the years from time to time, but always from a distance and with people between them.The distance now was no more than ten feet, and there were no people between them, just the venerable mahogany desk behind which John sat.
The last time Cutter had looked directly into John’s eyes was on a cold night in December seventeen years before.He had been a miner then, poor, uneducated, feeling hatred and pain.There was no pain now, but the hatred flooded back, and for a split second it was as strong as ever.In that split second Cutter remembered the threats that had kept him from Pam.He remembered the big brick house in Timiny Cove that had been sold, the baby that had been aborted, the five rows of metal studs that had torn up his back.
Then the split second was over, and the hatred was muted by the civility of the setting, the presence of Patricia and Pam, and his own hard-earned dignity.
He didn’t greet John.John didn’t greet him.They stared at each other in silent challenge, until John finally announced, “If you’re done with the social niceties, perhaps we could get on with this.I have a meeting across town at eleven.”
That left them an hour, which was more than enoughas far as Cutter was concerned.He nodded, but before he could speak the door opened again and Hillary slipped in.She looked slightly breathless and more than a little frazzled.After a quick glance around, her gaze settled on John.
“What are you doing here?”he asked in a tone that made Cutter hurt for her.
“I wanted to come.”
“This is business.”
“I know.”
