“Oh … that question.”
“Yes, that question.” Rooster walked into Max’s office, and, seeing that Max was on the phone, started to leave. Max didn’t think this conversation would last much longer, not in his current frame of mind, at any rate. He was annoyed and frustrated, so he gestured for Rooster to take a seat, which his friend did. Rooster lounged back in the chair and crossed his long legs, balancing his ankle over his knee.
“Did I hear someone come into your office?” Bethanne asked.
“Rooster. You’re avoiding the question, which tells me I’m not going to like the answer.”
“You probably won’t. Grant and I went out to dinner to celebrate Andrew and Courtney’s news.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Yes. It didn’t mean anything, Max. I was married to Grant for nearly twenty years. We have a long history together.”
Max didn’t need a reminder. After a disastrous second marriage, Grant had realized what a huge mistake he’d made leaving Bethanne and their family. He’d made no secret that he wanted Bethanne back. When he abandoned her, he didn’t have a clue what an incredible woman she was. Her ex-husband had learned a painful lesson.
When Grant realized Max was in the picture, he’d panicked and done everything he could to convince Bethanne to take him back. His ploy hadn’t worked, and Bethanne chose Max. Grant’s loss was Max’s gain. That, however, wasn’t the end of the story. A man who cheated on his wife wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. While Max trusted his wife, he had no faith in Grant’s sense of honor and fairness. The other man was capable of using whatever means available to destroy Max’s relationship with Bethanne.
“Grant has made no secret he wants you.”
“I’m married,” Bethanne returned, as if that decisively settled the matter. While she might have that mind-set, Max was all too aware that Grant didn’t.
Rather than argue the point, he moved on, doing his best to sound as casual as possible. “Where did you go for dinner?” If she told him the little Mexican place that had been their favorite spot early on in their marriage, Max was afraid he might lose it.
“Zapata’s.”
“I thought so,” he said, his jaw tightening. “Are you really so naive that you can’t see what Grant is doing?”
“Naive?” she snapped, paused, and took in a deep breath as if she, too, were struggling to control her own impatience. “I resent that.”
“What else would you call it? You seem completely oblivious to Grant’s manipulations.”
“I’m married to you,” she reminded him again. “I know Grant far better than you do. You’re overreacting, Max. This isn’t like you.”
Max ignored her comment. “What time did you get home?”
“From Zapata’s?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Just what are you implying?”
“Nothing. You didn’t call.”
“No, I didn’t. It was after ten, and I knew you’d had a busy day, and I didn’t want to wake you.”
She needn’t have worried; he was up well past midnight waiting. He would have phoned Bethanne, but in his frame of mind it wouldn’t have been a good idea. The fact that she’d taken nearly twenty-four hours to connect with him had done little to cut the edge off his frustration. He was both annoyed and aggravated, and struggling not to let this conversation break into a full-blown argument.
“Did you have a good time?” he asked, downplaying his displeasure as much as possible.
“As a matter of fact, we did.”
Bethanne was unwilling to offer him reassurances, it seemed.
“Grant and I talked about when I learned I was pregnant with Andrew and how excited both sets of our parents were when we told them the news.”
“Fine,” he muttered. She could have gone all day without mentioning these details. How easy it was to picture the two of them with their heads together, laughing and reminiscing over the early, happy years of their marriage. He clenched his jaw so hard that his back teeth ached.
“Listen, Max, as much as you’d like me to forget the twenty years I was married to Grant, I can’t. We have children together. Andrew and Annie will always link me to my ex-husband. That doesn’t mean I love you any less or that I’m susceptible to Grant’s less-than-subtle attempts to build the very bridge he chose to tear down. What I expect from you is a bit of patience and trust.”
Max didn’t want to get into these issues with her. What he wanted, what he needed, was reassurance.
“Will you be seeing Grant again anytime soon?” Max asked, as conversationally as he could manage, knowing at this point he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Bethanne, and most certainly not Rooster. Max caught a glimpse of Rooster rolling his eyes.
“Grant wants to take everyone to dinner this Saturday.”
“Everyone.”
“Andrew, Courtney, Annie, Harry, and me.”
“Harry? I thought Annie was dating some guy named Aiden.”
“That was so last month.”
“Oh.” His stepdaughter went through boyfriends the way some people went through a six pack of soda. “It’s hard to keep track of who her current love interest is.”
“Well, you’re most definitely mine. Now, please, let’s put this matter behind us.”
Max didn’t know if he could, especially in light of this family dinner idea. He didn’t like it one bit. He feared Grant had the upper edge this time around. He had proximity and a twenty-year history with Bethanne. And now Grant and Bethanne would share a grandchild.
“About dinner,” Bethanne said. “I know this weekend is my turn to come to California.”
“Yes, it is,” he said, unwilling to bend.
“Could you manage to fly up to Seattle instead? I’d like it if you could join us for this dinner.”
“No.” He flat-out refused.
“You’re acting like a child, Max Scranton. You’re going to force me to choose between you and a family function, and that’s … that’s wrong.”
“I can’t come to Seattle this weekend; I have a dinner with two wine company executives that’s been on the schedule for weeks. A dinner during which I’d hoped to be able to introduce my wife.”
“I’m sorry, Max … I—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he snapped, cutting her off. “Just be aware that Grant is going to use every excuse he can to drive a wedge between you and me. Do you honestly think the fact that you’re married to me means anything to him?”
“I can’t speak for Grant, but you should know it means a great deal to me.”
Background noise told him someone had stepped into her office.
“Grant?”
Max heard the surprise in Bethanne’s voice.
“Hold on a minute,” she said to him, and then whispered, “Sorry.”
Once again, Max was about to be set aside in order for Bethanne to chat with her ex-husband. This was exactly what he’d warned his wife would happen. Grant was on the prowl. Bethanne knew Grant’s games as well as he did, and still she continued to play. She assumed she was immune to her ex-husband. Max, however, wasn’t willing to risk losing his wife.
One of the hardest decisions Max had ever made had happened after he’d fallen in love with Bethanne. Grant had been working to win her back then, too, and in order to give her the freedom to make her own decision, Max had stepped aside and allowed Grant time and opportunity to woo Bethanne back. As hard as it was to remain out of the picture, Max had stayed away, unwilling to influence her one way or the other.
In the end, she’d chosen to marry Max. The road hadn’t been nearly as smooth as he would have liked. Their main difficulty, besides living in two different states, was his rocky relationship with his stepdaughter. And now this.
Instead of putting him on hold, Max realized Bethanne had laid the phone down on her desk in order for him to overhear the conversation. It was small comfort, but he was grateful.
“What can I do for you?” Bethanne ask
ed stiffly. “As you can see, I’m busy.”
“Yes, sorry to interrupt.” Grant sounded friendly and apologetic to intrude. “Tell me, did I happen to leave my sunglasses at the house last night?”
“No. I don’t believe you were wearing sunglasses.”
“You’re sure? Maybe I should stop by.”
“Not tonight.”
“What about tomorrow, then?” Grant asked.
“I’m going to the yarn store, and I’m not sure when I’ll be home, but I’ll check for your sunglasses again and let you know.”
“I appreciate it. They’re designer frames.”
“Okay, now if you don’t mind—”
It was about time, Max mulled. The longer the conversation lasted, the hotter he fumed.
“Goodbye, Grant,” Bethanne said pointedly.
“You’ll phone if you find my glasses.”
“Of course,” she promised.
Max would have felt better if she’d told her ex that Annie could deliver the sunglasses. Knowing Grant, he’d purposely left them behind as an excuse to stop by the house yet again.
After a pause, she picked up the phone. “I’m back.”
“Do you need any further proof?” he demanded. “Sunglasses?”
She paused, and once again Max heard her set the phone aside. “Yes, Grant,” she grumbled impatiently. “What is it now?”
“Let me know about dinner this weekend.”
“I will. Would you mind closing the door when you leave the office? Thank you.”
Fuming now, Max heard the door close. He didn’t wait for Bethanne to reconnect. “That says it all, doesn’t it?”
“Max, listen—”
“I think it might be best if we continue this conversation at another time,” Max said, afraid their discussion was about to escalate to the point he might say something he’d later regret. “Goodbye, Bethanne.” Then, without giving her an opportunity to respond, he disconnected the line.
Silence vibrated through his office while he shuffled through his emotions.
“Well,” Rooster said after a moment, “that didn’t sound good. Grant again?”
“Who else?”
“Do you trust Bethanne?”
“Of course.” And he did. What he wanted was for her to confirm that she was aware of Grant’s game plan.
“Then don’t you think you’re playing right into Grant’s hands?”
Max was too unnerved to consider that. “He’s planning a family dinner to celebrate Andrew and Courtney’s news.”
“And Bethanne wanted you to be there?”
“Yes. You know that isn’t going to work. We’re having dinner with the executives from Kendall-Jackson.” It’d already been delayed once, and Max wasn’t willing to put it off a second time.
“They’ll understand,” Rooster insisted. “They are the ones who canceled the dinner the first time, and this is for family.”
Max rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Let me sleep on it.”
They left the office and walked through the warehouse. Rooster headed for his motorcycle, and Max toward his car. He’d met Bethanne while riding his bike. She’d fallen in love with him on the back of his bike. Maybe what she needed was a reminder of that. He stood outside his vehicle, thinking.
“Something wrong?” Rooster asked.
Max didn’t realize he was so readable. This matter with Bethanne had his gut twisted in knots. He loved his wife, and while he had every reassurance she loved him, too, he wanted more.
“You have plans this weekend?” Max asked his friend.
“Dinner with you and the good folks from Kendall-Jackson.”
“You up for a ride?”
Rooster chuckled. “To Seattle?”
“Seattle,” Max confirmed.
“I’ll head back to the house, get my leather jacket and chaps, and pack my saddlebags. We’ll hit the road early tomorrow morning.” It was a good twelve- to fifteen-hour ride, if not longer. Naturally, they’d need occasional stops along the way, which would add additional time to the trip.
“How soon can you be ready?” Max asked.
“Any time you say.”
“Thanks.” Max was sincere. He appreciated what a good friend Rooster was. Before he left, he’d connect with the winery and rearrange dinner. Then he’d eat and get a few hours’ rest. He was eager to hit the road. He would be available for Bethanne, show her that she and her children were important to him. If nothing else, this would prove he was willing to bend.
“You going to let Bethanne know you’re on your way?” Rooster asked.
“No. I want to surprise her.” He would make sure their reunion was one neither of them would soon forget.
Chapter Five
When knitting for a loved one, put a kiss in every stitch!
—Nicky Epstein,
designer and author
Thursday afternoon, Lauren arrived a few minutes after five at A Good Yarn. She was anxious to get started on the baby blanket for her sister and for this final dinner with Todd to be over. Breaking up was never easy, and this was sure to be hard on Todd’s ego. The truth was, this wasn’t something she wanted, either, but she was convinced it was necessary.
Ambition was one of the qualities she’d put down on her husband list, but Todd’s insistence that he become the prime-time anchor went beyond ambition and bordered on obsession. As far as Lauren could tell, Todd linked his self-worth to his ability to step into the lead newscaster slot. Everything hinged on that. It was as if the rest of his life was on hold until he got what he wanted most. And unfortunately, that wasn’t building a life with her. Todd was a great catch, but she was releasing him.
Lauren was looking for more than ambition in a husband. Much, much more. Her list wasn’t long, though. She had a few basic prerequisites—qualities she should be able to identify within short order. One thing was certain. She was completely unwilling to wait for the perfect match to come along. She was on the prowl.
The yarn store was busy when Lauren came in. Margaret was helping one customer while several mulled around, checking out the knitted samples. Lydia was at the cash register, helping another woman purchase the same yarn Lauren intended to buy. The other woman looked vaguely familiar. It took Lauren a moment to remember. This was Bethanne Scranton. She’d been by John Michael Jewelers recently.
“Hello,” Lauren said, coming up behind Bethanne.
“Lauren.” Bethanne surprised her by remembering who she was. “Lydia told me you were coming in this afternoon.”
That explained it.
“I’m glad you’re both here at the same time,” Lydia said, handing Bethanne the credit card slip for her signature. “Do you have a few minutes to sit down? I learned a new cast-on method that is very clever, and it works beautifully for the blanket. If you’d like, I’d be happy to demonstrate.”
“That would be great.” Lauren had an hour to kill before she was scheduled to meet Todd. Besides, it’d been a while since she’d picked up a pair of knitting needles. With Lydia’s help, she collected the variegated pastel yarn, knitting needles, and stitch markers. By the time she finished, Bethanne was already seated at the table in the back of the shop.
“We’re offering a class for different methods of casting on and off a week from this Saturday, if either of you are interested,” Lydia said. “J. C. Briar is teaching it, and she’s such a good teacher. I believe there are a couple of spaces left.”
“I … I don’t know what I’ll be doing next weekend,” Bethanne murmured, keeping her gaze lowered.
“Will you be seeing Max?” Lydia asked. “Silly question. Of course you will.”
Bethanne managed a weak smile.
“Sounds like something I’d like to learn.” Lauren could use a bit of encouragement to sharpen her skills. She had the basic knit and purl stitches down, but it’d been a long time. Knitting was a craft that had long interested her. Even now, she wasn’t sure why she’d stopped.
Th
ey both cast on per Lydia’s instructions, using a long-tail method but also employing both ends of the skein. Lydia was right. This was a clever technique. Lauren picked up on it right away, but Bethanne needed a bit of extra help. Then Bethanne miscounted the number of stitches and appeared irritated with herself and started over again, jerking the stitches off the needle.
“Is everything all right?” Lydia asked gently.
Bethanne nodded weakly. “It’s fine … Max and I had a bit of a falling-out over something silly.”
“I’m sorry,” Lydia said in that same caring tone.
Bethanne sighed. “I felt terrible about it this morning, but I haven’t been able to get ahold of him all day. It isn’t like Max not to answer his cellphone.”
“Did you call his office?” Lydia asked.
Bethanne nodded. “His assistant called in sick, and the woman answering the phone said that the only information she has is that he’s out of the office.”
“Men,” Lauren muttered under her breath. She braced her elbows against the tabletop and kept the yarn in her lap as she read over the pattern. The first eight rows were knit in garter stitch, knitting every row to form an even border that would prevent the blanket from curling.
“Are you having man problems, too?” Lydia asked Lauren.
“After this evening I won’t,” she said with determination. “I’ve been dating the same guy for three years and I’m calling it quits.” She purposely didn’t mention Todd’s name because that invariably led to a discussion about him and his job with the local television station.
“You sound like you’ve made up your mind,” Bethanne said, looking up from her own knitting. Lauren noticed that she hadn’t progressed far.
“I have,” she concurred. “It’s embarrassing to admit how easily influenced I’ve been by good looks, charm, and prestige. Right now I’m more interested in intelligent, funny, hardworking, and kind.”
“You aren’t alone in prejudging a man by his looks,” Bethanne assured her.
“I’m not looking to marry the Hunchback of Notre Dame. But I refuse to overlook a potential husband because he doesn’t fit the tidy, neat picture formed in my mind as a college student. Back then I thought I knew what I wanted in a man. I assumed I’d found that, but unfortunately he turned out to be a … disappointment.”
Blossom Street Brides Page 4
