by Tara Randel
“It was just conversation.”
“But if you had the opportunity?”
He hesitated long enough to cause Lanie worry. “I don’t know.”
Her stomach twisted. He hadn’t come right out and said no. Could he be wishing for a different life? And when did they get so polite with each other? When was the last time they’d shared their feelings? She couldn’t recall.
“Be honest with me. Has our marriage gotten stale? Are you unhappy?”
David threw up his hands. “Where is all this coming from?”
“I feel as though we’re strangers sharing the same house.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“Am I? What about the stranger part? You work, you play golf, you and Davey sometimes play ball. When we do eat dinner together, you’re quiet or distracted.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Where is this coming from?”
Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “I miss you, David. We’ve lost our connection.” She pushed at the food on her plate with her fork. “I was talking to Nealy the other day—”
“Oh, great. The voice of reason in your family.”
“Hey, don’t pick on her. She had some wise things to say.”
“Like?”
Anger started boiling in her, adding to the turmoil twisting in her belly. “Like making sure to spend time with my husband. Putting a little excitement in our lives.”
“And what would she do? Plan a big party? Make some coffee?”
She didn’t dignify his outburst by responding. Instead, she went right to the crux of the matter. “What about romance?”
“I don’t think your sister is the role model for successful relationships.”
“Maybe not, but at least her life hasn’t lost its spark.”
David took the napkin from his lap, balled it up and threw it on his plate. “We don’t need sparks. Work and home is enough.”
Lanie wanted to cry. Is this all they had left between them? Standing, she tossed the remainder of lunch back into the basket.
“Don’t you think you’re looking for problems where there are none?” David tried to reason. “We have a good life, Lanie. We’ve been together a long time. We have a terrific family and extended family. What more do you want?”
She stopped cleaning up and stared at her husband. “Sparks, David. I want us to be so antsy to see each other we can’t get through the day. I want us to take off for a romantic getaway whenever we feel like it.”
“Lanie, I don’t know.”
“Let’s go away this weekend,” she pleaded. “My folks will watch Davey. We can drive to the other coast. I’ll find a B and B. It’ll be romantic, just the two of us.”
“I can’t. I have a big case I’m dealing with and I have to file important papers next week. I planned on working this weekend.”
She looked at him, numb. “I’ve just finished telling you that unless we do something our marriage is in jeopardy and you want to work?”
“Hey, wait a minute. You didn’t say anything about our marriage being in jeopardy.”
She scoffed. “What do you think I’ve been talking about?”
“I don’t know. I figured talking to Nealy has got you all riled up.”
“Don’t blame this on Nealy. This is between us.”
“Lanie, calm down. Things are fine the way they are.”
No, things were far from fine.
“If you don’t see that things need to change,” she threatened, “then I’m going to go ahead with running for mayor.”
He winced and then shook his head. It was the most emotion she’d seen in him in a long time. “You’re complaining because we don’t spend enough time together. If you become mayor, how do you propose that will help?”
“You don’t want to spend time with me now, so what difference does it make?”
“That’s not what I said.” He ran a hand through his neat hair, clearly frustrated. “This conversation has gotten out of control.”
Lanie stood firm. She believed every word she’d said.
“Lanie, please don’t do this. There’s no point to your starting a campaign.”
“Give me one good reason why.”
“You’ll be running against my partner. You can’t possibly win.”
“Wrong answer.” She picked up the basket and stomped away.
David hurried to catch up to her.
“Have you thought this through?”
“Yes.”
“Lanie, this is insane.”
“No. What’s insane it to keep going on like we are. I’ll let you know when my first rally is.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
DANE DROPPED THE REPORT on his desk then rubbed his eyes. No matter how much his uncle tried to convince him to agree to the Pensacola job, the numbers didn’t make sense. With a sinking sensation, he realized he might have to drive up there and talk to the potential contractor himself. Hank wanted what he wanted and Dane had to be sure he had everything in line to talk his uncle out of making a mistake.
His phone buzzed. Grateful for the distraction, he answered quickly. “Dane Peterson.”
“Dane, please tell your father to come get his things.” His mother sounded almost hysterical. “I put everything on the front porch.”
His anger and frustration rose immediately. “I’m working, Mom.”
“I’m on my lunch hour. I don’t have time to hunt him down.”
“Neither do I.”
“I want your father gone.”
For the hundredth time, that is. Until she changed her mind and wanted him back.
“I have no idea where he is.”
“Check the marina. He’s managed to keep his job.”
“Mom—”
“Please, Dane.” Her voice wobbled. “This is the last time.”
He imagined her crying and gave in, yet again. “Fine.”
He hung up, regretting the job ahead. When he’d become the middleman, it was to keep his brother, Alex, out of all the dysfunction. His parents had latched onto Dane’s willingness and look at him now. Still the errand boy.
He grabbed his keys and sunglasses, locked the office and let the general manager know he’d be gone for a while. He drove to the marina, white-knuckling the steering wheel the entire way.
He parked and stopped at the marina office, inquiring about his father’s whereabouts.
“He’s on Wyatt Hamilton’s boat. Slip fifteen.”
“Thanks.”
His footsteps thumped on the wooden pier as he strode toward the boat. Water lapped the pilings, deceptively calm, much like his outer expression. His emotions, however, were anything but. He found his father sitting on a low post, paper bag in one hand, a sandwich in the other.
“Mom wants you to come get your stuff,” he said, forgoing polite greetings.
“Uh-huh. She screamed at me before I left for work.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed. “I’ll get to it.”
“You two sort this out on your own. Don’t call me anymore.”
A pained expression pulled at his father’s once-handsome features. “Giving up on me?”
“I don’t want to be in the middle any longer.”
“Ah. Taking your mother’s side now?”
“I’m not taking sides here.” Dane stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and glanced up at the sun. Seagulls played in the sky and he wished he could fly away, too. “I’m done.”
His father peeled a piece of crust from the sandwich and tossed it into the water. Seagulls dive-bombed, fighting over the scrap of food. Appropriate imagery, considering his parents’ relationship.
“Where am I supposed to go?” his father asked
.
“Anywhere.” Dane took a breath. “I gave you the message. I’m out of here.”
His father’s brittle laugh carried over the water. “Word of advice, son. Never let a woman get a hold of your heart.”
As if Dane hadn’t been privy to his father’s wisdom all his life. He turned, walking away from the pain and constant battle of being involved with his parents at their worst. Angry with himself for wishing they’d be different. Thankful for the stark reminder of a life he’d avoided. “Don’t worry,” he muttered. “Not gonna happen.”
* * *
BEFORE THE MEETING with Dane at the hotel, Nealy hurried back to her grandmother’s house. She’d closed the shop at exactly four and had just enough time to change from her casual coffee-shop outfit into a raspberry-colored blouse, black pencil skirt and black pumps. She might not work for Dane, but she felt more comfortable dressing in a professional manner for this occasion. In her mind, being professional made their interaction less personal. Around Dane, she found she had to keep personal out of the equation.
Yes, she’d agree to barter her services. And to be honest, after two days spent mulling over coffee machine systems and handling the regular crowd, she looked forward to taking on a creative type of endeavor. Since Dane had gone above and beyond what she would have expected for the storefront’s face-lift, the least she could do was lend her expertise in throwing a tea party. How difficult could that be?
She parked and reached for her briefcase. Just as she stepped onto the hotel’s veranda, her cell phone dinged, alerting her to a text.
“Not again.”
Crystal had texted Nealy five times this afternoon about an L.A. event Friday night. While Nealy appreciated her boss’s faith in her skills and commitment to the company, Nealy had left detailed notes about the party. All Crystal had to do was sit still and read the list Nealy had compiled.
Crystal: Time of flower delivery?
Nealy tapped out her response: Three p.m. at main house.
She hit Send, hoping Crystal would quit bothering her for the rest of the day, but with the three-hour time difference, Nealy doubted it. Tempted to turn the cell off, she hesitated, afraid she might miss an important development if she did so. After all, the call from Ashlee James’s people might come at any time. She needed to know the minute that happened, so she dropped the cell in her purse and pulled open the door to the hotel, running into Dane’s uncle Hank Peterson.
“Oh, excuse me.”
Hank stepped back and motioned for Nealy to enter.
He’d aged well, still fit and healthy. His dark hair had become a distinguished gray. He was frowning though, so Nealy assumed his negative opinion of her had also remained the same.
She swallowed. “Mr. Peterson. How are you?”
“Doing quite well. And you?”
“Busy.”
“And being in Cypress Pointe is part of being busy?”
“Yes. I’m sure you heard about my sister’s engagement party.”
“And its cancellation.”
“Yes, unfortunately the relationship didn’t work out.”
“Seems to run in your family.”
She felt her face flush.
“And you are here today because?”
“I have an appointment with Dane.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “My nephew mentioned you’d be working with him. I can’t say I approve.”
Regardless of what she did or did not do, it seemed he was as disapproving as ever, and so she wouldn’t be cowed by him.
“It didn’t take long for you to insert yourself into Dane’s life.”
“If anything, Dane came to me. I didn’t ask for his help at the coffee shop, he offered.”
“Just like you didn’t hesitate to fill in for the hotel’s event coordinator?”
“We’re exchanging services, nothing more.”
His shrewd eyes narrowed. “I don’t want your short time in Cypress Pointe ruining Dane’s hard work. Please don’t let memories of your youthful mistake take his eyes off of important business matters.”
“My mistake?”
“Dane had a difficult time getting over you. I don’t want you hurting him again.”
Dane had a hard time getting over her? He was the one who had wanted the annulment to begin with. She was the one who’d spent years getting over him—her first love. So maybe they both hadn’t used their best judgment and had jumped into something neither of them had a clue how to handle. “I assure you, Mr. Peterson, I’m only in town for a short while before heading back to L.A. I’m assisting your nephew, nothing more.”
“Glad to hear it. Dane has a lot to offer someone. He’s at the age where he should be thinking about settling down. He needs to find a good woman.”
Wait. Was it because she didn’t fall into the “good woman” category? She shouldn’t be surprised. Hank had never liked her dating Dane. He always thought of Nealy as Dane’s downfall. Funny how people could see things so differently. Dane’s uncle hadn’t been upset over the annulment; he’d looked at it as fortune smiling on his nephew. Dane would be able to find a good woman to start over with. Some woman right here in Cypress Pointe.
Who? And what would she have to offer Dane?
Would she touch his heart the way Nealy had? Understand him the way she had?
Nealy knew she was being ridiculous. She and Dane had no place as a couple. Too many years had gone by. They’d both changed. Grown up. Still, she couldn’t ignore the flare of jealousy flickering in her heart—maybe because deep down she always pictured herself with Dane.
She did not want to go there. Besides, her guilty conscience reminded her, she had Sam waiting for her back in L.A. He might not be her first love, but she should be thinking about him, not Dane.
Glancing at Hank, she saw the censure in his eyes. She’d never measure up to the kind of person he wanted Dane to marry. And therein was the problem. When Dane left her, she thought it was because she didn’t measure up. Piled on top of her heartache had been uncertainty and disappointment. A tough combination to overcome for anyone, let alone a teen girl longing to be with the boy she loved.
Hank continued to watch her, waiting for a response. Nealy got it—don’t mess with Dane’s heart. She almost laughed because it was the last thing she wanted to do. And frankly, she didn’t need Hank bullying her. Dane was capable of making his own decisions. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m running late.”
“I’m sure we’ll see each other again before you leave town.”
She hoped not, but nodded. “Have a nice evening.”
She strode across the foyer, head held high. No way would she let Hank Peterson reduce her to the insecure girl she’d once been. A lot of soul-searching had gone into becoming the woman she was today. She wouldn’t let Hank destroy her confidence with a few critical comments.
Once she reached Dane’s office door, she took a deep breath and knocked.
“It’s open.”
Nealy walked in, pushing her conversation with Hank out of her mind. “Hi. Sorry I’m late.”
He stood and rounded his desk, the consummate professional. “No problem. I was reading over a proposal my uncle dropped off.”
Good. Business right away. “Your company keeps pretty busy?”
“Yes. Can’t complain. In light of the economy, things could be worse.”
“I understand. With money being tight for many people, we still manage a steady calendar of events. I’m grateful.”
“And I’m grateful for your help.” He twisted around to retrieve a clipboard from his desk. “Tea parties aren’t really my expertise.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
He chuckled.
“So, what is the tea party for?”
He glanced
down at the papers he was holding. “Myra Hendricks, head of the Cypress Pointe Junior League, scheduled the party to acknowledge volunteers. From what I understand, it’s a mix of ages, but you should know most of the women attending.”
Nealy scrunched her brows together. “I remember Myra. Went to school with her daughter.” If she remembered from her grandmother’s updates about life in Cypress Pointe, Myra’s daughter was still single. “Lovely.”
At her sharp tone, he glanced at her questioningly.
“So, um, what had Angela come up with?” she said.
“Why don’t we go over to the room where it’ll take place. I had one of the waitstaff deliver some of the supplies there already.”
“Your hotel has plenty of multipurpose rooms.”
“I planned it that way, hoping to take advantage of groups with special events to book, like Saturday’s tea party.”
She smiled her professional smile. “Lead the way.”
Minutes later, they were in the room as Dane told her, “Thirty women signed up for the party. This room has the space needed while still maintaining privacy from the hotel guests.”
“Budget?”
Dane flipped the top paper on the clipboard and called out a number. Tight, but she’d make it work.
Nealy scanned the space. Tables had been set up with cloth coverings draped over top.
“White tablecloths? A bit dull, don’t you think?”
“Looks fine to me.”
“Didn’t Myra have any input in what she wanted for decorations?”
Dane shrugged. “I wasn’t part of the conversation.”
She snapped her fingers and put out her hand. “Clipboard, please.”
He handed it over.
“Spring flower mix? What kinds of flowers?”
“Does it matter?”
“Absolutely. If I know the flower types I can pick a colorful tablecloth.” She continued going down the list. “As far as dishes and flatware go, is it restaurant grade?”
