Her grandfather seemed confident that she knew what to do with the plantation. A puzzling circumstance, since he didn't really know her.
He was relying on her and she wasn't sure what to do.
"I wish he'd been clear enough to tell me what he wanted me to do about selling Oakleigh," she murmured, navigating the crumbled surface of the front walk.
"He was perfectly lucid about that," Cole said flatly.
"Then you must have heard something that I didn't." Elinor stopped on the sidewalk, glaring at him with frustration.
"He said to do what you thought best," Cole reminded her, his face enigmatic. "So do it."
"That's easy for you to say," she snapped. "But this isn't just a house we're talking about. It's something you wouldn't understand. Oakleigh is my grandfather's life, not just another business deal."
"I can't believe this!" Elinor bounded out of her chair as if she'd been branded.
"Believe what?" Blinking, Daisy looked up from her section of Elinor's morning paper.
"This!" Holding the front page of the Bayville Sentinel with rage-quivering fingers, Elinor slapped the paper.
The two women had been sitting at the breakfast table in the cottage kitchen sharing a quiet cup of coffee.
"I can't believe the gall of that man! He named me as trustee!" Elinor shrieked, throwing the paper on the table.
"This must have something to do with Cole," Daisy commented with certainty. "That man sets you off like dynamite."
Ignoring her friend, Elinor stared into space, her mind working at a furious pace. "I'm not going to let him get away with it. I can see what the snake's up to even if no one else can. And I'm going to tell him a thing or two about it."
"I bet you will," Daisy said, shaking her head in sad amusement as Elinor grabbed the paper off the table and bolted out of the kitchen, her robe billowing around her.
Taking the stairs at a gallop, Elinor headed to her room. She dressed in record time, which was no mean feat considering that she was never one to linger over her wardrobe.
Fastening her mother's small circle brooch on the lapel of her short peach jacket a few minutes later, Elinor scooped her purse off the dressing table and headed back down the stairs.
"Lock the door behind you, Daisy!" she called out, retrieving her bulging briefcase from her office.
"Happy hunting!" Daisy called out from the kitchen.
Elinor slammed the front door and headed across the gallery, her heels sounding a hollow cadence on the wood. She reached her car, slung her briefcase into the backseat and slid beneath the wheel.
Setting her up as trustee of a million-dollar fund without saying a word to her about it first.
Cole Whittier was a snake. This last stunt proved everything she'd ever accused him of. And she planned to tell him that to his face, as soon as she quit crying.
Why did it hurt so much that he'd turned out to be everything she suspected? She'd known the pitfalls from the first, but that hadn't stopped her from falling for his charm. It was his laughter that snared her first, she knew, the amused gleam in his eyes that invited her to join in the joke.
Only now the joke was on her. She'd lost her heart to the very man who could least be trusted with it.
Pulling her car up in front of the town hall, minutes later, Elinor turned off the engine. Drawing in a few gulps of air to calm herself, she tried to wipe away the traces of tears on her face. A fast makeup retouch was called for, and she accomplished it as quickly as she could with shaking fingers.
She got out of the car, the newspaper clutched in her hand and she barely remembered to put change in the parking meter. Fragments of accusations formed in her brain as she crossed the pavement. She would give it to Cole Whittier with both barrels.
She'd come to the town hall because Mayor Stephens had offered Cole temporary space in an unused office in the building. Another indication of the lack of official objectivity in the Whittier plant negotiations, Elinor thought to herself, fuming as she entered the building.
She had no idea if Cole would even be in his office at this time in the morning. He'd never seemed terribly slothful, but men like him made their own rules.
"Good morning, Elly," the mayor's secretary called as she passed by.
"Good morning, Mrs. Nutt," Elinor answered, barely registering the woman's surprise when she didn't stop to chat.
Her heels clicked belligerently on the tiled floor as she marched down the hall.
Cole's temporary office was located at the back of the building. Several secretaries glanced up in surprise as Elinor passed swiftly through a larger room that Cole's office opened onto. A makeshift sign had been tacked to a half-open door. Whittier Incorporated.
Elinor rapped firmly on the door, the movement making it swing open.
"Elinor!" Cole looked up in surprise. He sat behind a beat-up wooden desk that had clearly never seen better days. His jacket lay thrown across a nearby chair, and his pristine white shirt, sleeves rolled up, was open at the collar.
He looked so strong and industrious that she had to pause for a fraction of a second to regain her momentum. Her fingers curled around the newspaper in her hand.
"How dare you do this?" Elinor stormed into the room after her brief hesitation, slapping the newspaper down on top of the litter of papers on his desk.
Cole leaned back in his chair, an amused gleam in his eyes. "Good morning to you, too, El."
"Do you think all you have to do is wave your checkbook and people will bow down to you?"
He looked at her a long moment without answering, his gaze lingering on her heated face.
"Well?" she burst out.
Getting up, Cole walked around the desk and closed his office door. "I assume," he commented, turning to face her, "that you're a little upset over the Whittier escrow account."
"Upset? I'm furious! How could you set this up and name me as trustee without asking me?"
"I thought you were the best person for the job." His eyes twinkled. "I can personally vouch for your incorruptibility."
Elinor felt her temperature rise. No man had ever gone further in corrupting her than Cole Whittier.
"Why don't you just call this escrow account a bribe?" she asked scornfully, trying to ignore the hyper beat of her heart.
The office was small, occupied by a desk and a few chairs. Cole leaned with his back against the door, so close to where she stood that her every breath drew in the clean smell of his soap.