Eye of the Beholder

Eye of the Beholder by Jayne Ann Krentz Page A

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Authors: Jayne Ann Krentz
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the conversation.
    "I think that's enough on the topic of marriage," she said in a voice that sounded too brittle, even to her own ears. "Let's find something more interesting to talk about."
    Trask picked up his fork. "Such as?"
    She thought quickly and leaped at the first obvious notion that sprang to mind. "Careers. That should be safe enough. You know a lot about mine. Tell me about yours. Obviously you followed in your father's footsteps."
    Without any warning, the incipient warmth vanished from Trask's eyes. His expression became shuttered and withdrawn.
    "I'm very different from my father," he said. "He was a dreamer."
    She realized she had wandered into treacherous territory. The smart thing to do was to retreat to safer ground. But the newly discovered, decidedly more daring element of her nature lured her forward.
    "What kind of dreams did he have?" she asked gently.
    "It's a long list. I guess you could start with his dream of playing pro baseball. That bombed, I gather, shortly after I was born." Trask forked up a bite of avocado. "Not that the failure of that particular fantasy stopped him from trying to turn me into a major league pitcher."
    "What happened?"
    "I played ball all the way through high school to please him, but when I got into college I drew the line. My excuse was that between work and studies, I didn't have time for it. Truth was , I just wasn't interested in living his dream. We had our first big battle over my decision to pursue a business career."
    "Why business?"
    He shrugged. "I wanted something I could control."
    "What were some of your father's other dreams?"
    "He tried to make his fortune in real estate. When that failed, he ran for the state legislature. Lost in a landslide. He hatched a scheme to operate a private ferry service on Lake Washington . He went bankrupt before the first boat got launched. He came up with a plan to market hot air balloon rides ..."
    "I think I get the picture. How did your mother cope with all this?"
    He hesitated. "It wasn't easy on her. But she endured. She died right after my brother Nathan was born."
    "I'm sorry."
    "I have a hunch that if she'd lived, there would have been a divorce. I don't have a lot of memories of her, but the ones I do have mostly involve listening to her plead with my father to be sensible. After she was gone, I guess I tried to take over that job."
    Alexa nodded. "Hard for a kid to parent a parent. All of the responsibility and worry but none of the power of an adult."
    His mouth twisted wryly. "I can tell you've been in therapy."
    "No wonder you pursued a career that allows you plenty of personal autonomy."
    "What can I say? I'm a control freak."
    "What about your brother?"
    Trask's expression lightened into something that resembled an almost paternal pride. "Nathan and I are a team. He's the creative one. Hell of an architect. He was the lead on all three Avalon hotels, including the one here in town."
    "If he's the creative one, what part do you play?"
    "I look after the bottom line. No creative talent necessary, but lots of control."
    "Why do you say you're not a creative thinker?" She tilted her head slightly to the side to study him. "Avalon Resorts has a reputation for crafting fantasy vacation worlds."
    "My brother comes up with the big concepts. All I do is figure out which ones will work financially."
    She propped her chin on the heel of her hand. "I think that's very definitely a creative talent."
    "I don't see it that way." He shrugged. "But I do know that I never make the mistake my father always made."
    She watched him. "What mistake was that?"
    "I know a great fantasy when I see one, but I never allow myself to get caught up in it."
    Alexa thought about that from her new risk-taking perspective. "What good is a fantasy if you don't get into it?" Belatedly old habits kicked in. "At least for a while."

12

    Trask was aware of a deep reluctance to end the evening. He tried to think of a way to make it last a little longer

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