Redstone, Incorporated: The Best Revenge Part 11

With an effort, she made herself focus on the here and now.

"I heard something interesting yesterday," she said. He waited silently. "Ran into Joe Winston, who works at the bank in River Mill. He was quite rushed, he said, because it seems the bank is being audited."

"Happens." His expression betrayed nothing, but she knew.

"He said the only thing they've turned up so far is a data-entry clerk who apparently made some errors posting payments."

He still said nothing.

"It probably would have ended there, but they found out that same clerk had made some large cash deposits in his own account at about the same time as the errors were made."

"Stupid."

"Yes." She waited, but he was apparently determined not to be lured into admitting anything. So she went on. "The clerk at the post office told me there's been a reporter from the Ledger, the big county newspaper, nosing around. Asking about Alden's finances, his dealings, even his wife's suicide and...his son's death."

That at least got more words out of him. "Real investigative journalism?"

She leaned against the front counter, keeping her gaze on him steadily. "Not much call for that these days, is there?" she said, almost conversationally. "Why do you suppose they care about our little election, when there's much bigger news on the county level?"

He gave her a one-shouldered shrug that told her nothing, but the fact that he didn't meet her eyes told her much more.

"But the most interesting thing I heard this week, while you were...wherever you were, is that Mr. Alden had a very strange reaction to a large personal loan he made suddenly being paid back in full."

"Did he." The low, soft-voiced words were not a question.

"He was furious. One of his clients was in his office when the phone call came, and heard it all. He was, apparently, screaming that whoever he'd loaned the money to couldn't get out of their deal so easily. That he owned him."

Something came into his eyes then, something dark and deep and deadly. It was there only an instant, but it made a chill sweep through her, and the old joke about being someone's worst nightmare suddenly wasn't funny anymore.

He owned him....

She shuddered as she thought of the other contexts those words could be used in, contexts that could have caused that look in his eyes. And she understood.

"Do not vote for me because you loved my father, or because you feel tradition demands having a Hill in the mayor's office. Although I appreciate the sentiments, those are not good reasons to entrust me with the future of Cedar. Trust me, vote for me because I share your vision of what we want this town we love to be. Because I, like you, want us to proceed into the future without losing the parts of the past that make us what we are."

It was good, St. John thought. She was reaching the crowd. And there was a crowd. Not as big as her opponent's, perhaps, but they were more attentive. He was guessing they were the ones who were more aware, more active.

"I'm not a politician, you all know that," Jessa was saying, "because I won't make promises I can't keep, just to get your vote. I won't make backroom deals that result in policies that help the loudest group. I won't try to buy this office-it has to be earned."

That got, as he'd expected, a bit of applause and a lot of buzz started. And that was encouraging, that they so quickly realized what she meant.

It also had an effect he'd expected; a man yelled out, "Why should we trust you, when you can't even run your family business?"

St. John spotted the man, recognized him as an Alden plant he'd seen in the opposition's campaign headquarters. A man from River Mill, not Cedar. His gaze shot to Jessa, willing her to keep her cool.

She laughed. "Why, if you lived here in Cedar you would have seen that I posted our profit and loss statements right in the store window, so everyone could see that we're actually doing even a little better than last year."

Yes!

The triumphant word shot through him as she handled it perfectly, beautifully. In one sentence she countered his false accusation, and pointed out to the crowd that he wasn't one of them. Her gaze flicked to him, and he read the acknowledgment in her eyes; he'd antic.i.p.ated this, and that was why she'd posted those figures for all to see.

"We could do better, of course, if we charged more, carried no specialty items, but we think our customers are special, and deserve the same kind of service we've provided for decades. The same kind of service you'll get from the mayor's office."

That neatly, she brought it back to the matter at hand, and this time the applause outweighed the buzz.

"Hey, he works for Bracken's!" someone yelled out.

And suddenly the tenor of the meeting changed. They were on her side now, local girl versus outsider, and they were looking at the intruder in their midst with suspicion. The man looked uncomfortable, and began to back out of the crowd amid the murmurs. He wasn't a pro, St. John thought, or he would have stuck it out, been better prepared.

Alden, he thought, wasn't going to like this. Which was exactly what he wanted. Because he knew too well what Albert Alden did when confronted with things he didn't like.

Chapter 15.

"I've never seen anything like it," Marion Wagman was saying. "To scream at the poor woman like that, out on a public street."

Mrs. Walker, s.h.i.+fting the bags full of groceries she held, shook her head. "It's hardly Janelle's fault that the bank is being audited."

"She was very upset, I'll tell you. Said that he didn't even bank there until a couple of years ago, but acts like he owns it. And the employees."

Jessa kept her head down, studying the boxes of cake mix as if they held the answers to all the mysteries of the world. When the women left the store, she wheeled her cart to the checkout, her mind racing.

When she got home, she found her mother bustling in the kitchen, a pleasant surprise, and her uncle sitting in the breakfast nook, a cup of coffee before him.

"h.e.l.lo, honey." She kissed Jessa on the cheek as she took the bag of requested items. "Thank you."

"Sure, Mom."

"Next time I'll do it, I promise."

Jessa looked into her mother's eyes, so like her brother-in-law's, minus the slightly fey quality. They did seem a bit brighter, more alive today, and if Uncle Larry had accomplished that, she was thankful.

"They'll be happy to see you at the market," she said, knowing it was true.

"Sit down, visit with your uncle. I'll get you some coffee."

Jessa glanced at the man at the table, saw the very slight nod he gave her, and did as her mother had suggested. The coffeemaker was at the other end of the kitchen, and gave them a few moments to speak unheard. "Thank you."

Larry smiled. "Time, not man, is the true healer."

"But you're helping."

"Perhaps." Then, as his sister-in-law approached with two steaming mugs, he s.h.i.+fted subjects. "Heard an interesting rumor in town this morning."

"Is this about Alden's public meltdown? I heard," Jessa said, secretly delighted that her mother had joined them; too often she simply retreated, a shadow of her once vibrant self.

Larry lifted a brow at her. "Now, I hadn't heard that one. What happened?"

She relayed what she'd overheard, adding as she finished, "It's really not like him. He's too conscious of his public image."

"And more charming than any honest man needs to be," Naomi put in.

Jessa held her breath; it had been so long since her mother had offered an opinion on even the weather, let alone anything requiring more thought, that she was afraid to speak lest she destroy the moment.

"Quite true," Larry said smoothly. "A man with no rough edges is either a fake or has worked on the outside until it's slippery, neglecting the inside."

Jessa couldn't stop her grin at that. "Uncle Larry, you are one of a kind."

"Blessedly so," he said, grinning back at her. "Only room for one Loony Larry in this little town."

The careless ease with which he accepted the disrespectful nickname the less charitable citizens had given him long ago was just another of the reasons she adored this man. Their inability to see the wisdom hidden in some of his more outlandish statements was their loss, she thought.

The idea flashed through her mind that following Uncle Larry's flights of fancy had been good preparation for following St. John's choppy shorthand.

"So what was it you heard?" she asked him. "Was it the reporter thing?"

"Heard that, too," Larry said, "but that's not what I meant."

"What reporter?" her mother asked.

"From the Ledger," Jessa said. "Nosing into Alden's life."

"Interesting," Larry said. "I wonder what brought it on, why the sudden interest on the county level?"

Jessa had an idea, just as she had on the bank's audit, and they both had St. John's name on them. But she didn't say anything. She had no proof, after all.

"Well, whatever the reason it's a good thing, after the shabby way the Cedar Report has treated you," her mother said, surprising her. She hadn't thought her mother was aware of that much of what had been going on. "I'm so disappointed in them. We've always supported them, and then they endorse that...charlatan."

"They didn't have much choice," Jessa said. "Turns out Alden owns a sizeable piece of them."

"Why...that's outrageous!" her mother exclaimed. "They shouldn't have endorsed anyone, then."

"Just how," Larry asked, looking at her thoughtfully over his mug of coffee, "did you pick up that little bit of information?"

"I didn't, really," she said.

"Ah. Our mysterious friend and benefactor."

She'd almost forgotten Larry had been there the first day St. John had arrived. And although to her knowledge that was all he'd seen of the man, her uncle had a remarkable knack for sizing people up quickly.

"Yes," she admitted.

"And the rest?"

"Maybe. I don't know for sure."

"I suspect he's capable of moving mountains of any ilk," Larry mused in his not-quite-in-the-present way.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Jessa said, her mouth quirking.

"Who is this?" her mother asked.

"A man who's helping," she said. "It's a long story, Mom," she added at her mother's curious look. "I hope to be able to tell it all to you soon."

Her mother's gaze switched to her brother. "Larry?"

"I'm watching," he said.

Touched by her mother's concern, more that she had bestirred herself to feel it, Jessa swallowed past the tightness in her throat. She noted her mother's nod and the easing of her concern, and envied her uncle that knack, as well.

And wondered exactly what he'd meant, if he was watching her, the situation or St. John. Or all three.

"We still haven't gotten to what you heard, Uncle Lare," she said.

"Ah. Rumor has it someone's made an offer on Riverside Paper."

Jessa's brow furrowed. "An offer? I didn't know it was for sale."

"It wasn't, but in these times solid money talks. And if what I heard is true, this is very solid money."

"That must be worrying for all the people who work there," her mother said. Jessa felt an odd combination of emotions at the words. Grat.i.tude that her mother was partic.i.p.ating so much this morning, and a dull ache because those would have been her father's first words, as well.

"Actually, not so much," Larry said.

"But if some outsider is taking over," Jessa began.

"Yes. But that outsider is Redstone."

Jessa blinked. "What? What on earth would they want with a paper company way out here?"

"Redstone?" her mother said. "You mean Joshua Redstone? Jess admired him greatly. But don't they do airplanes, resorts, that sort of thing?"

"And dabble in highly advanced prosthetics, medical equipment, high-tech gadgets, whatever their R & D department comes up with," Larry said. "I'd give a lot to meet their inventor. Not a lot of genuine inventors around anymore. Everything's done by committee."

"You seem to know a lot about them," Jessa said.

Larry shrugged. "They're fascinating. A powerhouse, privately owned company that size that is run the way it is, whose people sing its praises with no prompting, and that seems to spread benefits in ripples wherever it goes...."

"I've heard that," Jessa agreed. "But I still don't understand why they'd want to come here."

"That, I don't know," Larry agreed. "They've not dabbled in that particular line, that I'm aware of. Which makes this all the more interesting."