"How's the water?"
"Feels terrific. Want to get in?"
"No, not tonight."
Lilah emerged from the pool and reached for a beach towel. As she dried off, she was conscious of Adam's eyes on her. For that very reason, she usually used the pool when he was upstairs resting.
Tonight, however, he had insisted on sitting outside longer than usual after dinner. The moon was up. It was a gorgeous night. After holding out as long as she could, hoping Adam would retire to his room, Lilah had yielded to the pool's temptation, dropped her cover-up, and dived in to swim several laps.
"Any of that mail interesting?" she asked as she rubbed her wet hair with a corner of the towel.
"Not really. Just plentiful. I'll never get finished sorting it all, much less answering it."
"Must be tough to be loved by thousands," she remarked tongue-in-cheek. "What do the piles represent?"
He had formed three hills of correspondence on the patio table in front of him. "The good, the bad, and the ugly," he said, enumerating each pile.
Lilah leaned out of her chaise and dug into the "ugly" pile, coming up with an envelope. She held it up closer to the flaming torch that was burning from the metal pole cemented in the flower bed behind her. "Thad and Elizabeth Randolph," she said, reading the return address on the envelope.
"Oops, they got in the wrong pile."
"I don't think you're paying much attention to that sorting method of yours." Uncaring that the letter had been addressed to him, she worked her finger into the slit of the envelope.
"I wasn't paying attention. I was watching you swim." Lilah's finger got stuck. She looked up at Adam. "Why don't you skinny-dip?"
"Why don't you behave?" she asked, slightly breathless.
"It would be a helluva sight."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally breaking the gaze, Adam nodded at the forgotten envelope in her hand. "What do the Randolphs have to say?"
She ripped open the envelope and took out the letter. Her eyes scanned it, though after that brief but potent exchange with Adam, it took awhile for her sister's words to sink in.
"They hope you're doing well and that I'm not causing you too much grief." He grunted with amusement. "She failed to ask how I'm doing. Thanks a lot, Lizzie," Lilah muttered. "It says here that Megan got upset when her softball team lost in the city playoffs."
"Poor baby. How's Matt?"
"Uh-oh. He had to spend an entire day in his room for teaching his best friend a nasty word."
"He must have picked it up from his Aunt Lilah."
She threw her wet towel at Adam's head. "Matt's my buddy. He thinks I'm terrific."
"How is Elizabeth feeling?"
Lilah read on. "She says she feels great. Thad is her main pain. 'He's acting more absurd as my due date draws closer.' Oh, my gosh, listen to this. He bought new tires for both their cars on the outside chance they'd have a flat on the way to the hospital." Lilah made a scoffing sound. "The guy's gone bonkers over this kid."
Adam laughed, but his voice sounded reflective when he said, "Must be nice though."
"What?" Lilah asked, replacing the letter in the envelope.
"Knowing you'd created another human life." When he turned his head and looked at her, his eyes caught the wavering torchlight.
"Oh, that. Well, I guess it is a nice feeling. If you're into that."
"Yeah, if you're into that."
They were silent for a moment. Lilah spoke first. "About these letters, can I help? I wouldn't mind forging a few cursory responses for you. Something to the effect of, 'Thanks for your concern, period. Sincerely, comma. Adam Cavanaugh.'"
"I've got offices of people who can do that. I'll have Pete box them all up and send them to the corporate headquarters."
"Even the personal notes?" She was indirectly referring to the scores of letters he had received from Lucretia. They had been set aside and read but as far as she knew, had gone unanswered.
"I guess I should attend to those, it's just — " He sighed deeply. "I feel detached. You know?" He looked at her for confirmation. She nodded her head, even though she wasn't sure what he was leading up to.
"I missed the gala grand opening of the Hotel Cavanaugh in Zurich last week. Ordinarily I would have been there, running the show, finalizing details, checking this and that, personally making sure that everything went well and according to schedule. But" — he paused and made a negligent gesture — "I don't really think I missed much."
"You've got more on your mind. There's much more at stake now than the opening of a new hotel. The accident changed your perspective on things. You've got a different set of priorities."
"I guess that's it. Or maybe I'm just tired. Since my father died and I launched out on my own, I've been driven to have more, make more, do more."
"Overachieve."
"Yes."
Lilah knew his story through Elizabeth. Adam had inherited a small chain of mediocre motels from his father. He had sold them as soon as the will was probated. With the profit he had built a first-class hotel that had enjoyed immediate success. That first hotel had grown into a chain of eighteen. No matter where in the world it was located, a Hotel Cavanaugh stood for excellence in quality and service.
Adam had had a head start, granted, inheriting sizable legacies from both his parents, but it could be said truthfully that he was a self-made millionaire.
"I was bored with my life even before my accident," he admitted to Lilah now. "That sounds insensitive, doesn't it?"
"A little," she told him with a soft smile. "You're to be envied for all you have."
"I realize that. The boredom wasn't something I was proud of. Why was I bored?"
"You had reached all your goals and had run out of challenges. That's why you invented them, like climbing that mountain."
He turned introspective. "It seems a lifetime ago when Pierre, Alex, and I planned that climb. It's hard for me to envision myself involved in things like that again. I've been invited to spend a month next spring with friends on a yacht in the Mediterranean. I never take that long a vacation from work, but even if I did, the prospect doesn't sound appealing. I feel so distant from it all — the beautiful people, fast cars, rich food, fancy boats. The hotels. The women." He turned his head and fixed a hard stare on Lilah.
She swallowed with difficulty. "That'll pass. You feel detached and distant because you are. Out of necessity your focus has to be on getting back to normal. Once you are, you'll get into the swing again."
"I'm not sure."
"Oh, yes," she said. "That drive to overachieve is in your character. The passion to succeed is in your genes just like your dark eyes. Elizabeth says your energy is so boundless you always leave her feeling breathless. She describes you as being constantly in motion. That'll come back."
"But I'll never be the same. I don't mean physically," he said when he saw she was about to disagree. "I'll never think the same about life, the human condition."
"No, Adam, you'll never be the same. At some time in the distant future you might be very glad this happened to you." She left the lounger and moved toward his wheelchair, pulling it away from the table. "Tell you the truth, Ace," she said in a much lighter tone, "all this philosophy is wearing me down. Why don't we call it a night, huh?"
"I'm not tired."
"Don't argue — Adam! What are you doing?"
With a strength and agility that amazed her, he reached behind the chair, grabbed her hand, and dragged her around to the front of it. She landed hard in his lap. He encircled her with his arms and clasped his hands together, trapping her.
"What am I doing?" he repeated playfully. "Don't you recognize it? I'm putting the make on you."
His words made her heart flutter, but she looked at him sternly. "You could have hurt yourself. Such impulsiveness could be harmful."