She faced Janice, tears now flowing freely. “It all came together for me. Accepting my mother’s death, deciding to go home, and discovering how much architecture appealed to me. The irony of my brother’s words, which snapped me out of my funk, hasn’t escaped my current concern about him.”
“Making your way through sorrow can be a circuitous journey.”
“It’s a strange emotion, isn’t it?” Despite the tears, it had been comforting to share her story with someone who understood. “I think meeting you at the Salsa class was meant to be. You not only saved our skins with the project concept, but you’ve helped me see my family situation with new eyes. It’s like”—she stopped for a moment, almost too shy to put her thought into words—“like having a mother to talk to.”
Janice’s eyes welled up more. “Thank you, dear. I appreciate the sentiment.” She waited a beat and then said, “Speaking of our class, how are things going with your dance partner?”
Back to Jack again. She’d managed not to think of him for at least two minutes. “It’s getting complicated…and a bit risqué. Might be more information than you want to hear.”
“Try me.”
Did she really want to tell a near stranger, growing friendship notwithstanding, what almost happened the day before? Too late. The subject was on the table. Not easy to back out now. “Things sort of exploded between Jack and me yesterday, exploded in the roll-in-the-hay sort of way. Who knows what might have happened if I hadn’t hurt my ankle about the same time.”
Her new friend cleared away plates and silverware before replying, as if needing time to process such an intimate confession. “Was your injured ankle a godsend or a nasty interruption?”
Janice was turning out to be just as insightful a friend as Celia. Damn! “A bit of both, I guess. I really wanted to go through with it. So did Jack. But it probably would have been a mistake. Even though there was no one around, someone might have shown up and seen us. Plus, office romances aren’t the smartest thing.”
“My advice? Whether it’s an office romance or not, sounds like you need to scratch the itch to find out.” Eyes sparkling, she added, “But next time? Do it behind closed doors.”
Would her own mother have counseled such action? The woman’s hippie garb wasn’t just for effect. Janice’s thinking seemed to embody the more independent thinking of the era.
Once she cleared away breakfast things, Janice prepared sandwiches and a salad for the rest of the day. “I should get over to the gallery. I don’t like to leave my assistant alone for too long. Call if you need me to come back.”
Before she left, Janice made Lacey assure her she would stay on the couch as much as possible and keep off her ankle. Once her friend had left, the hours passed slowly. Too slowly for someone who was accustomed to being constantly in motion.
The ankle continued to bother her despite the painkillers. When she wasn’t dwelling on her injury, she was wondering when Jack would call or why he hadn’t called yet. Around eleven, when her cell phone chirped, she nearly sprained the other ankle trying to retrieve the phone in time. “Hi,” she said somewhat breathlessly.
Brian asked, “Are you speaking to me yet, after our dreadful cards session the other night?”
“Oh, hi.” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
When she recounted how her flight from the bull had caused her to injure her ankle, he was both furious with Jack and immediately consoling. “Where were his brains? Traipsing around an open field. You’d think he’d grown up in New York City instead of the Midwest.”
“Don’t come down on him. He’s the one who deflected the bull’s attention while I ran for cover. I’m just a little rusty climbing over farm fences.”
“Guess your injury nullifies my idea,” he said, disappointment underlying his tone. “I thought we’d take care of the flowers for Mother’s grave this weekend rather than next Wednesday.”
“Oh.” He hadn’t given up on the tradition, even though she’d hinted she wanted to stop. Then she remembered Janice’s words about people grieving in different ways. Janice hadn’t come right out and said it, but Lacey suspected her friend had meant to add, even though her feelings were somewhere else, she should honor Brian’s.
“Tell you what, Bri. I’ll call the florist and place the order. Why don’t you pick up the arrangement from them tomorrow and go to the cemetery yourself. I’ll go next Wednesday.”
Silence on the other end of the line. Darn. She’d offended him. Or, at the very least, he didn’t like the idea.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Remember to tell them pink roses.”
He wasn’t upset. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course.”
After his call, she tried reading through her project file and redoing her sketches. Couldn’t afford to lose any more work time despite her injury. But her mind wasn’t in it, because she kept listening for the phone. Jack did have her cell phone number, didn’t he? Of course he did. He’d called last night when she was asleep. Maybe he’d come by instead? She should change clothes. She didn’t want him to see her in her frumpy gray sweats.
With great effort, Lacey hobbled to her bedroom and changed into a sheer black nightgown and peignoir. As far as she was concerned, she’d crossed the line of no retreat when she’d given in to him the day before. Sensible or not, she meant to follow through on the feelings she’d been repressing. One look at her in this get-up, and there’d be no question in Jack’s mind about her intentions and hopefully no indecision for him about what to do next.
One more trek, this time to the kitchen to put her best, and only, bottle of wine on ice, and then she returned to her nest on the couch to wait.
By eight, the waiting had become unbearable. She’d skipped her latest painkiller, because she thought she’d be imbibing the wine soon and didn’t want to mix them.
Maybe his parents were still monopolizing his time. During office hours? Perhaps, if a family emergency had brought them back to town. What kind of problem would keep him from calling her for twenty-four hours, though?
Then she checked her phone. No charge. Good grief. She charged her phone every night. Except last night, when she was in too much pain, too groggy to remember. Somehow it had retained the charge through part of the day, long enough for her to receive calls from Janice and then her brother, but then…dead. As much focus as she’d placed on hearing from the guy, why hadn’t it occurred to her to check the charge?
No point waiting for a call that wasn’t going to come. She gave in to taking more of the painkiller. Around nine, she drifted into a deep sleep until morning.
The next day was pretty much a repeat of the day before, although this time she stayed in her sweats all day. When Janice called to offer her services again, Lacey begged off. Not because she didn’t want to see her new friend, she didn’t want Janice to discover the tangle of black silk lying on her bedroom floor. She’d been too weak and too disappointed to put it away properly.
Throughout the day, she debated whether she should call Jack. When she finally succumbed to temptation around four, he didn’t pick up. “Hi, it’s Lacey. Looks like I’ll be out of commission the rest of the weekend thanks to this stupid ankle, but all this staying off my feet will give me more time to think about the project. Hope things are going well with your parents.” If he was screening his calls, maybe he’d call back.
But instead of a call, she received a text a few hours later. “Urgent I contact Cam. Staying off phone, in case he calls. Sorry about ankle. Hang in there. Rest.”
What was so urgent? How was Cam involved? Did it concern their project? What about his parents—what happened to that emergency? Sometimes she hated texts. They raised more questions than they answered. The medium seemed invented for men, so they could abbreviate their communications. But if that’s how they were going to play it, she’d respond in kind. “What’s with Cam? The project? Injured, but still available by phone.”
She didn’t have to
wait long for a response. “Don’t worry. Not project. Personal. REST.”
The last part was pretty clear. He didn’t need her help nor apparently any more texts. Did he not realize how crappy she was feeling? And bored.
Okay, fine. She’d obviously read too much into their growing relationship, especially what happened after they escaped the bull. Dejected, she succumbed to a fitful sleep the rest of the night.
“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” Celia said, arriving on Sunday morning to check on her. “I didn’t hear about your injury until I went into the office on Friday, even though I was with Jack Thursday night.”
“You were?” This was news. He’d said he and Celia were quits back in the field, just as they’d been about to get it on. A hot stream of bile filled her throat. She swallowed, then commented, “I don’t recall our setting up another date for the two of you.” Did she sound too proprietary? Surely she wasn’t jealous of a fake romance?
“It happened so fast. His parents breezed into town, heard about our so-called relationship from our dear boss and insisted we all go out to dinner.”
Who were these people who seemed to be taking over his time? “What are they like?”
Celia angled her head, apparently considering her response. “They’re very nice, in their own overbearing way. They’d already convinced Cam—he’s an old friend, I guess—to give Jack a promotion.”
“Promotion?” She’d be on her own for the rest of the project? The thought sent an Ice Age glacier up her back. As much as the thought of being in charge of this huge project appealed to her, she wasn’t sure if she was ready. Besides, Jack and his outrageous style were growing on her. “Jack must have been delighted. Word has it he’s been waiting to be named principal.”
Celia bit a lip. “Actually, he wasn’t a happy camper. He sort of blew up. The new job is as Marketing Director, not principal. He planned to talk to Cam right away to get it straightened out, but I haven’t heard from or seen either since.”
Thank you, Celia. Now I know why Jack’s so anxious to contact Cam and why he seems to have gone off the radar. “Jack said something about his parents not being typical. Guess he wasn’t kidding.”
Celia suddenly noticed Lacey’s sweats. “How’s your ankle?”
“Not broken. One good thing. But it hurts like the devil, which is keeping me from concentrating on our project.”
“Ooh, that’s too bad. Good thing you’ve got Jack as a partner. If anyone can pull something out of the fire, he can.”
Right. Jack could pick up part of her share. If he’d just call.
“Can I help? Get you anything?”
“Thanks, no. My ankle just needs time to heal, time I don’t have.”
Celia winced. “Got time for a friend?”
“You? Always. What’s up? Something to do with Brian?”
Celia settled into the easy chair next to the sofa where Lacey reclined. “I shouldn’t bother you, not while you’re feeling so awful and time is running out on your project. But you’re my best friend and the only one I can turn to.”
Sounded ominous. But she couldn’t have run into Brian when she was out with Jack’s parents, or Brian would have mentioned it when he called. Something else must have happened. “What’s up?”
Celia prefaced her reply with a huge sigh. Her entire body seemed to deflate. “After Jack and I left Brian’s Wednesday night, he made me face a hard fact, throwing our supposed new relationship in Brian’s face wasn’t working. He suggested I do the opposite, stay out of Brian’s orbit. It sounded like a good idea, since our plan wasn’t working, but it was a huge risk. I could be making it all the easier for Brian to forget about me.”
The same thought had occurred to Lacey. “So you’ve decided to call off your fake dating?” Jack seemed to think so.
“I considered it. I even went to the cemetery yesterday to seek guidance from your mother.”
“The cemetery?”
“Although I never met your mother, I needed to vent. First, I congratulated her for raising two great kids and preparing them to deal with life once she was no longer here, then I questioned why she hadn’t prepared Brian better to move on. I think his reticence to make our relationship permanent is related to her.”
“To our mother? No, I’m the one who isn’t ready to commit. Brian never lost faith in marriage like I did.”
“He told me the same thing after he overheard me talking to her grave.”
Of course! Brian had delivered the flowers she ordered and run into Celia. “What did he say?”
“He told me he wasn’t tied to your mother’s apron strings. But I didn’t leave it alone. I suggested he’d broken things off between us because I didn’t measure up to your mother.”
“Are you sure you want to tell me all this? I feel like a voyeur.”
“I have to share this with someone, Lacey, because I still don’t understand his reasoning. He said he’d never compared me to his mother. I was my own distinct, wonderful person.”
“You are! We both love you in our own ways.”
Celia’s eyes misted. “And I love you. But look at me. I’m crying, just like I did then. Brian stepped out the shadows where he’d been watching me, approached and swiped away a tear with his finger. Then he said, ‘I can’t go through this again.’ When I pressed him, he said he was afraid of losing me someday too.”
Tears deluged her face, making her gasp for air.
In tears herself, Lacey hobbled over to her friend and cradled her in her arms, though Celia was half a foot taller. “It’s okay,” she cooed, comforting as best she could. Then it hit her. “You finally have an answer, Cee. He told you why he doesn’t want to get more serious.”
Celia pulled away. “Okay, maybe, but now what do I do? He’s afraid of losing me someday. How can I get him to stop worrying?”
Lacey shook her head. “Brian needs to learn to trust in love. Unfortunately, I can’t help you there. I don’t trust in love either.”
Chapter Fifteen
Lacey awoke on Monday morning ready to take a bite out of the hide of one Jack Dalton. Or anyone else who got in her way. The color of her bruise had deepened, although the swelling around her ankle had receded somewhat. With a little persistence and grinding of teeth, she was somewhat mobile, although her ankle still ached like someone had hit it with a sledgehammer.
The steady downpour of a spring shower beat at her windows throughout the night. It refused to subside in the morning hours. The thought of negotiating her car through traffic with a bum foot, making her way to the building in the downpour, and hobbling around her office all day sapped what little energy remained. It didn’t take much to convince her to stay home another day, especially when she could polish the design concept from there.
She hadn’t heard from Jack at all on Sunday. No call, no text, no visit. Nor did she attempt to contact him. Unless she’d come up with a killer design concept, which she hadn’t, because she couldn’t concentrate while wondering about Jack through a haze of pain, there was no reason for her to get in touch with him. She felt like a fool for putting so much faith in his words, delivered with no intention of following through.
“I shouldn’t care,” she told the image in the mirror. “I must have imagined or misinterpreted his parting comment on Thursday.” He was no more interested in continuing what he started than he was in nurturing the professional friendship she thought they were developing.
He’d seen an opportunity to gain the upper hand, show her she was no different than the other women who panted after him, and he’d seized it.
Hadn’t it been his idea to get away for the afternoon? He’d even been the one to suggest a fast food picnic. How hokey could it get? But she’d fallen for it, even to the point of investigating the hillside with him. He probably knew the bull was there and staged the animal’s attack to scare her enough to forget her common sense and fall into his arms.
Talk about your cock and bull stories! She’d rea
lly been taken in with this one. Sucker!
Lacey smeared the eyeliner she’d been trying to apply. “Dammit! No man is worth the trouble of a committed relationship.” Such a thing didn’t exist. At least not for her.
She wasn’t the one who’d gone back on her word. Who’d fled the scene when her companion needed medical attention. Okay, okay. She’d told him to go see to his parents, then called Janice, even though he offered to take her to the hospital. But his minimal attempts to check on her condition really cut.
She was hurt and humiliated and tired of coping with her sore ankle. Most of all, she was upset with herself for having believed something might be happening with Jack Dalton.
****
What was happening with Jack was a nightmarish weekend second guessing his abilities and questioning the direction of his career. Nothing new there. For some time, he’d been concerned about not yet being named principal. But his parents’ little bomb of an announcement suggested he was never going to receive the title. Cam was throwing him a bone, because he owed Jack’s parents. But Jack had to be sure, and the only way he could do that was to confront Cam, in person, however the man had mysteriously disappeared Friday morning. He wasn’t at his home, because Jack had been there ringing the bell, then pounding on the door, more than once. Jack left countless messages on Cam’s phone, none of which were returned. Probably avoiding him until the shock wore off, though it still didn’t make sense. Cam wasn’t one to cave to anyone. Not even Marcia and Gordon Dalton, the infamous steamrollers.
Jack barged into the office Monday morning in a nasty state of mind, daring anyone to cross his path. At Jean’s desk, without preamble or even a “good morning,” he barked, “I want to see Cameron Mackenzie as soon as possible. Don’t take no for an answer.”
Jean snapped to attention. “Yes, Mr. Dalton. First thing.”
He slammed the door of his office, threw his briefcase on his desk and sank into his chair to rub his eyes. He’d hardly slept all weekend. He was so wired, his usual morning coffee might not be the best idea today.
Saved by the Salsa Page 16
