Heartwood Read online

  Table of Contents

  OTHER BOOKS FROM CATHERINE LANE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENT

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT CATHERINE LANE

  OTHER BOOKS FROM YLVA PUBLISHING

  COMING FROM YLVA PUBLISHING

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  www.ylva-publishing.com

  OTHER BOOKS FROM CATHERINE LANE

  The Set Piece

  ACKNOWLEDGMENT

  So many people to thank! Gill McKnight, who pushed me through two bad ideas into a good one. Susan X Meagher, who answered all my questions even when she was on vacation. Ann, Boz, and Liz—my awesome beta readers. Astrid Ohletz and her amazing team at Ylva, who really know how to support an author.

  And then there is Sandra Gerth, my wonderful editor, who’s been with me since the beginning and who is a fantastic teacher and mentor as well. Thank you for always going the extra mile. Heartwood wouldn’t be half of what is it without you.

  To Pat, who’s always up for a walk and a laugh.

  CHAPTER 1

  Nikka pushed the flowering cactus plant to the side of her engraved pencil holder and pulled the picture of her cats, Lucy and Desi, closer to her phone. There, that was better. No. She couldn’t suppress the grin. It was perfect.

  By big business standards, the small cubicle on the tenth floor was nothing special. Almost pathetic even. One hundred and twenty feet filled with a cheap melamine desk, an office chair with no arms, and a view of other lawyers bent over files and phones. But to Nikka it was the golden ring of the carousel of intellectual property law. For now, at least.

  She had made the jump from the hinterland of the ninth floor to mid-level associate in just three years. A record at Truman and Steinbrecker. But after sitting at her new desk with new responsibilities for just ten minutes, wild aspirations rose up in her.

  Nikka glanced down the windowed hallway that led to the partners’ offices. Somewhere on that hallowed ground were breathtaking views of San Francisco Bay and Lea Truman’s office. If she worked even harder, she, too, could make managing partner and have that million-dollar view. The to-do list materialized in her mind: find her niche, take initiative, cultivate a mentor. She would…

  “Oh shit.” A clerk’s voice drifted across the low wall to her left.

  Lea Truman strode down the hallway, a look of consternation plastered to her thin face. “All right, everyone. Stand up.”

  The whole cubicle farm rose as if they were in a flash mob dance. Nikka struggled to get up without sending her chair spinning into her file cabinet.

  “Who here has a car?”

  Half the people on their feet raised their hands.

  Nikka looked around and slowly added hers to the raised arms.

  “Who has it here in the parking lot downstairs?”

  Several hands dropped back down.

  Unbelievably, Nikka had braved the city traffic this morning since she had wanted to break in her brand-new Subaru Outback. Was this a good or bad thing?

  “A GPS?”

  Now only Nikka and an unfamiliar man with red hair and a trendy beard were still in the running. A small, triumphant smile played on his lips. His body tensed, ready to spring forward at the next question, like a contestant in a quiz show, poised to press the buzzer.

  “And a full tank of gas?”

  She had filled up just that morning, following her father’s advice to never let the gas tank fall below the halfway mark.

  The man’s arm flopped to his side. Everyone in the cubicle farm swung to look at Nikka, some with envy, others with pity.

  Her father’s words rose in her mind. Winners embrace opportunity, big or small. She fought down the nausea rising in her stomach and turned to the managing partner with her head high.

  Lea Truman met her gaze with a hard stare and waved her over. “Nikka, right?”

  Nikka nodded vigorously.

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  Nikka grabbed her purse and her keys and tried to pump confidence into her reply. “Yes, Ms. Truman.”

  “Call me Lea. I’m your boss, not your headmistress.”

  “Yes…Lea.” Nikka cringed. Make a good impression should have been number one on that to-do list.

  Lea motioned over an assistant whose arms were piled high with files and a silver laptop. The assistant thrust it all at Nikka, who juggled the bundle for a harrowing second before pulling it safely to her chest. Lea took control of the remaining manila envelope from her assistant’s outstretched hand. “Call Ace’s Town Car Service and tell Mr. We-can’t-be-there-for-thirty-minutes he and his company are fired. We’re late. Come along.”

  Nikka hung back, repositioning the papers and the computer into a more comfortable load, until she registered with a jolt that Lea was talking to her and scurried after her to the elevator.

  Lea punched the down button as if she owned it. Maybe she did. There had been a rumor on the ninth floor last year that she had actually bought the building.

  Once inside and only inches apart, Nikka took stock of her boss. Tall and thin, almost to the point of wiry, Lea radiated power. Nikka had been this close to her once before, when she was hired. Then, there had been a handshake that had crackled with energy, but now that same power hit her in a wave. This was what success looked like, and if she was being honest, what sexy looked like too. Boss or no boss, Lea was hot. Ice-blonde hair fell in a trendy razor cut over high cheekbones and sharp blue eyes, and even the age lines around her mouth gave her an alluring air of experience.

  “What floor are you parked on?”

  “Oh, C. Level C.” Nikka dropped her gaze. This was work, not a date. Although since she could count the number of dates she had been on in the last three years on one hand, she was surprised she could remember the difference.

  Nikka shifted the bundle in her arms so she could get the keys out of her purse before the doors opened and not waste a precious second. Even before they were out of the elevator, the beeping from the pristine white Outback greeted them from a nearby parking space.

  “Better than I had hoped.” Lea peered through the car’s tinted back window. “There’s a computer plug in the center console, right?” She opened the door before Nikka had a chance to answer. She shoved over a yoga mat, hopped in, and held out her arms for the laptop and files. “Glad to see the ride out there won’t be a total waste. Get in, and I’ll give you the address.”

  As Nikka pulled up her navigation device, her heart sank. Lea didn’t want an associate to run ideas by; she just wanted a chauffeur. How was she going to find opportunity in being used for a full tank of gas and a GPS? Her father didn’t have a saying for that.

  When Lea paused to boot up her laptop and slip the charger into the plug between the front seats, Nikka asked, “What city?”

  “Steelhead Springs.”

  Nikka had tapped the S and the T into the console when her heart flipped over in her chest. Steelhead Springs? No way! Wasn’t that the official name for the Springs, a tiny town on the Tall Tree River about two hours north of the City? Maybe this day wouldn’t be a complete waste after all. The Springs was the home of Truman and Steinbrecker’s celebrated client—famous lesbian author and recluse Beth Walker.

  Holy shit.

  Gigantic, huge opportunity.

  Maggie Chalon slipped her paring knife into the radish, carving the last
delicate petal of the intricate flower design. She dropped the edible rose into ice water to keep while she cut the tomato for the sandwich. She didn’t know why she bothered. Her little works of art were never appreciated. Hell, a good day lately was when the sandwich came back with two bites out of it.

  “Is lunch ready? I need to take it up.” Vivienne stuck her head into the kitchen. As usual, a nametag reading Vivienne Tenney, Physician Assistant rode above the left breast pocket of her polyester scrub top.

  Why the hell didn’t she take that relic from another job off? It wasn’t as if they were working with dozens of new patients or staff members who didn’t know her name.

  “Yep. Almost ready.” Maggie placed the rose radish next to two elaborate pineapple happy faces. “How is she feeling today?”

  “Anxious. Irritable. It’s not a good day, the poor girl,” Vivienne said, but there was no kindness in her voice. She pulled two twenties out of one oversized pocket and slid them over the counter with a wrinkled finger. “Beth asked for broccoli soup tonight for supper. Be a dear. Zip over to the farmers’ market and get the ingredients, will you?”

  “We have what we need here.” Maggie waved to the huge subzero fridge behind her. It sat like a monster from the future in the retro kitchen.

  Vivienne pursed her lips, adding even more wrinkles to her face. “Beth especially asked for fresh broccoli.”

  “Really?” Never once in the six months that Maggie had been Beth’s personal chef had she made a request.

  “Yes. That’s a good sign.”

  “I guess.” How would she know? Maggie hadn’t seen Beth Walker in those six months either.

  Although she shouldn’t be surprised. That tall lawyer, Lea, had been completely upfront when she had hired her. “Vivienne will be your only contact in the house while you’re there. Are you okay with that?”

  “Sure, sure,” Maggie had said even though Lea leaning in to make her point made her skin crawl a little. Frankly, she would’ve said anything at that point to land the job.

  Lea had scanned her face. “Other people I interviewed asked why.”

  “Okay, why?”

  “My client has a long history of being very, very private, and sadly now on top of that, she is tottering toward dementia. Strangers confuse her, and her routines must be set and predictable.”

  “Okay.”

  Another long look. “We’ll run a background check. We’ll find out if you’re in trouble.”

  “I’m not sure you can call it trouble exactly.” Maggie had jostled her head around, trying to look cute. She got a lot of first dates with that look, why not a job? “I work for my ex, and it’s great and all. But I’m not sure it’s the best situation for either of us.”

  Lea had glanced at her phone rather than answer, so Maggie had changed tactics.

  “No worries. Lauren will give me a great recommendation. Does Beth like sweets? I make these little cake pops that…”

  “Lauren?”

  “I thought with this being Beth Walker and all, that wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “It’s not.” Lea had nodded and leaned back. “Girl trouble. I totally get it. You got the job.”

  The firm had run the background check anyway.

  “It’s a beautiful day.” Vivienne brought her back to the present as she grabbed the tray with the sandwich. She plucked the rose radish off the plate and tossed it into the sink. “Take your bike to the market. Make a workout of it, as you like to do.”

  Dark thoughts, and not for the first time in the last few weeks, circled in her mind. Vivienne would rather complain about her wasting time biking to town than breathe. Suddenly, she was pushing an outing?

  “Thanks, I will.” Maggie tried to infuse lightness into her voice.

  Vivienne didn’t fool her. She wanted Maggie out of the house. The job, which had never been standard, had just spun from following weird rules to ignoring something that smelled rotten. It looked as if now was the time to start asking why.

  Nikka eased her foot off the gas just as they passed the Steelhead Springs sign—Population 14,534—at the edge of town. She had floored the gas pedal most of the way, even though the salesman had told her to break the engine in gently.

  Tall coastal redwoods grew on either side of the two-lane highway, and a picturesque river cut into the woods on the left. Signs advertising homey bed-and-breakfasts and womyn retreats popped up along its bank.

  “Oh good. We’re finally here.” Lea snapped her computer shut in the backseat. She hadn’t said a word since they had crossed the Golden Gate Bridge over an hour and a half ago. The trip for her had been a steady stream of work as she jumped from cell phone to computer to tablet with rapid-fire precision.

  Nikka, on the other hand, had spent the same time stealing glances in the rearview mirror and crafting succinct yet thoughtful answers to any work question that might come up. She wouldn’t get a second chance to make a first impression. Whatever this case was, she wanted in.

  “Have you ever been here before?” Lea asked.

  “Yes, once in college. A friend and I came up for a weekend.”

  “Let me guess. You had just read Heartwood in some women’s studies class and wanted to check out the scene.”

  “Something like that.” Stupidly, she hadn’t prepared for personal questions.

  Lea had only gotten part of the truth, though. Nikka had read Walker’s seminal book at UC Berkeley. That much was true, but the real reason she had come to the Springs all those years ago had more to do with Alexis than the book. Alexis, the soft butch who had stolen her heart and her virginity that weekend in the Springs. Alexis, whom she had dumped by text message rather than tell her parents she was gay. Alexis, whom she unsuccessfully had tried to find years later when she had finally come out.

  “Beth Walker made this town, you know.” Lea waved a hand at the colorful storefronts. The author’s face and blown-up versions of her book covers stared back at them from the windows as they drove. Rainbow banners hung down from streetlamps, advertising a dramatization of Heartwood at a local coffee house. It seemed as if the town had made Beth Walker.

  “You wouldn’t recognize this place before Walker,” Lea said. “In 1960, Steelhead Springs was just another quiet retirement community up the coast. The only thing they had going for them was the steelhead trout that ran the river from October to April. Then Walker became famous. Not for Heartwood, of course. It was for that kids’ series…about a magic composition book that grants wishes. I’ve never read them.”

  “Don’t Waste Your Wishes. They’re fantastic.”

  “Right,” Lea said, but right sounded more like whatever. “Then someone, probably from Heartwood’s publishing house, let it slip that Walker was the author of both. I mean, that’s what I would do. The lesbians started turning up in the Springs, looking for her. By then, it was the late eighties; enterprising women jumped at the chance to make a buck, so they turned the town into a destination for women.” She pointed to a bustling town center. “Damn. I wish I had thought of it.”

  Nikka nodded, but she didn’t need the lecture. Anyone who had read the book and knew even a little bit of queer history recognized that Beth Walker had captured exactly what it was like to be a dyke in the sixties. From the male oppression and sexism to the hidden life style to wild sex on the banks of the Tall Tree River. More importantly, what it would be like to live free of all that persecution here in an idealized version of Steelhead Springs.

  “Heartwood is a seminal book in so many ways,” Nikka said.

  Lea dove back into her files without comment.

  Nikka bit her lip. Were there third chances for a first impression? Because at this point she had blown chances one and two.

  They were smack in the middle of the town when the navigation device said, “Turn right in five hundred feet.”

  Nikka signaled and eased carefully into the crosswalk.

  Whoosh! A woman on an old mountain bike cut right in front of
her, missing her front bumper only by inches.

  “Oh my God!” Nikka slammed on her brakes. The car skidded to a sharp stop, and the smell of burning rubber filled the air.

  “What the fuck?” Lea cried as her files and computer flew in different directions in the backseat. A packet of legal papers appeared under the front passenger seat.

  “She…she came out of nowhere.” Nikka pointed to the woman zooming away, her long athletic legs pumping furiously. The biker hadn’t even seen them or, at least, hadn’t turned around to acknowledge the chaos she created.

  Lea stared at the retreating woman until she rounded a bend and peddled out of sight. “Let’s continue. Carefully. Can you get us the rest of the way without killing anyone…especially me?”

  “Yes, Lea.” Nikka fought the urge to switch back to Ms. Truman.

  For the rest of the journey, only the cold voice of the navigation device broke the heavy silence as Nikka made a series of lefts and rights. They traveled away from the river and into a beautiful grove of old-growth redwoods.

  “Your destination is on your right.”

  Nikka pulled up to a black security gate rising up out of nowhere in the middle of the trees. She stuck a hand out toward the keypad so she could tap the code in as soon as Lea gave it to her.

  Instead, Lea slid out of the backseat and strategically positioned herself in between Nikka and the keypad. Several quick pats and the gate swung open to reveal a long asphalt drive and a soaring estate of wood and glass.

  Nikka rolled her car slowly up the driveway, excitement growing in her belly. She was about to meet the Beth Walker. I’m a big fan. No, that was way too generic. Ms. Walker, you taught me who I was. Better, but a little embarrassing in front of her boss. No matter. She still had time to get it just right.

  She killed the engine right by the front door and hurried around the car to open the door for Lea, who was hunting through the jumble of files and papers scattered all over the backseat.