Silver Linings

anywhere at all until I've had a chance to think.”
    “You can think later. Right now you're just going to move.” He was already vanishing into the greenery.
    Aunt Charlotte's pet wolf was apparently accustomed to giving orders and having them followed. He had been known to give orders to Charlotte, herself.
    Mattie stood irresolute near the wall of the mansion, the string bag dangling from her fingers. Common sense told her she should be running after Hugh. He was, after all, the expert on this kind of thing. But a sickening combination of disbelief, shock, and an old irrational anger held her frozen for an instant.
    Hugh glanced back over his shoulder, eyes narrowing. “Get moving, Mattie. Now.”
    He did not raise his voice, but the words were a whiplash that broke through Mattie's uncertainty. She hurried forward, fighting with her purse and the string bag.
    Two steps past the barrier of broad leaves, Mattie found herself completely enveloped in an eerie green world. Her senses were overwhelmed by the rich, humid scent. The ground beneath her shoes was soft and springy and nearly black in color; a giant compost pile that had been simmering for eons. It sucked at her two-hundred-dollar Italian shoes as if it were a living thing that feasted on fancy leather.
    Massive ferns that would have won first place in any garden show back in Seattle hovered in Mattie's path like plump green ghosts. Long, meandering vines studded with exotic orchids billowed around her. It was like swimming beneath the surface of a primeval sea. A couple of fat raindrops landed on her head.
    “Hugh, where are we going? We'll get lost in here.”
    “We're not going far. And we won't get lost. All we have to do is keep the house to our backs and the sound of the ocean to our left. Cormier was a wily old fox. He always made certain he had a bolt hole, and he kept the escape plans simple.”
    “If he was so clever, why is he dead back there inside that mansion?”
    “Even smart old foxes eventually slow down and make mistakes.” Hugh pushed past a bank of massive leaves that blocked the way.
    The leaves promptly sprang back into position. A mass of beautiful white lilies slapped Mattie right in the face. “Ariel was right,” she muttered under her breath at Hugh's disappearing back, “you really aren't much of a gentleman, are you?” She pushed at the lilies, the string bag and her purse banging wildly about her sides.
    “Watch out for these leaves,” Hugh advised over his shoulder. “They're real springy.”
    “I noticed.” Mattie ducked to avoid the next swinging mass of greenery. She was grateful for the aerobic exercise program she had begun nearly a year ago on her thirty-first birthday. She had taken it up as one of many antidotes to the stress that seemed to press down on her from all directions these days. Without that regular exercise, she never would have had the physical stamina to keep up with Hugh Abbott as they raced through a jungle.
    Not that it was ever easy for a woman such as herself to keep up with Hugh under the best of circumstances. As he had once made very clear, she was not his type. Mattie winced at the memory of that old humiliation.
    “Not much farther now. How you doing, babe?” Hugh vaulted lightly over a fallen log and reached back to give Mattie a hand.
    “I'm still here, aren't I?” Mattie asked between her teeth. The rain was getting heavier. The canopy of green overhead began to drip like a leaky ceiling. Mattie heard something tear as she scrambled over the log. She thought at first it was the seat of her beautifully tailored olive green trousers but realized it was the sleeve of her cream-colored silk shirt instead. It had gotten caught on a vine.
    “Damn.” Mattie glanced down at the rip and sighed. “Why would Cormier show you his escape route?” she asked, raising her eyes to Hugh's back. “I didn't know you even knew him.”
    He didn't turn or even slow his pace as he answered. “You'd have found out I knew him if you'd stuck to your original schedule and been on the plane to St. Gabe this morning the way you were supposed to be. Didn't Charlotte's travel department make the reservations for you?”
    “They made them. I altered my plans at the last minute when I saw the itinerary. I recognized St. Gabriel Island and realized I was being set up. I decided I didn't need you for a tour guide.”
    “Even though you were going straight into Purgatory?” he asked dryly. “Come