Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13)

by Heather Wardell

  I nodded slowly, wondering who he was now.

  "You didn't do that," he said, leaning forward. "You could have married me and then made me change."

  Trying not to let the words "you could have married me" tear me apart, I said, "But then you wouldn't have been the same person. That wasn't what I wanted."

  He leaned closer. "What did you want?"

  I had to take a sip of my coffee before I could tell him the truth. "You. You, with me all the time."

  He leaned away again. "Without the traveling. Yeah. But you were honest enough to go. She wasn't. And she's not..." He sighed. "She's not honest enough not to cheat on me with her damned lawyer."

  "Blair?" I'd thought he was good-looking, but I decided to keep that to myself.

  "Yup." The bitterness in that single syllable somehow made the room feel darker and colder. "I'd been wondering for a while what she was up to, why she seemed so different, and then I saw a newspaper story about you and told her that we'd dated and had agreed to share our winnings. Just a casual mention, you know? But she got... strange. Quiet."

  "Then what?"

  He shook his head. "She sent a bunch of text messages to 'her sister'," he said, the sarcasm obvious, "and then seemed much happier. She went for a shower and I..." He grimaced. "I know I shouldn't have done it, but I took her phone and read the messages. Hadn't talked to her sister in ages, but she'd sure sent some interesting stuff to Blair. All about how they should fight for that money and then she'd leave me with her share. And more than I needed to read about exactly what'd they'd do in bed together to celebrate getting rid of me and getting rich."

  I shivered. It was too much like Sydney's plans for me, although her 'getting rid' had been far more permanent.

  "Yeah. So anyhow, I need you to keep fighting. Don't give them, me, anything. Okay? I'm trying to figure out how to get it all shut down."

  "I can talk to Tyler and see what he--"

  "Your lawyer?" He shook his head. "The next time I looked at Liz's phone the messages were all gone, and I haven't seen anything since, or any other signs they're having an affair. They'll just deny it if I do anything about it now. No, let me investigate and find something they can't deny, and then I can use that to make them drop the lawsuit."

  I could see his point. "Yeah, okay. I'm sorry she's cheating on you and all that. What a mess."

  "I'm only sorry about one thing. Marrying her. But enough about her. What's new with you? Besides the money, I mean."

  Besides that, I couldn't think of much. I couldn't tell him I'd basically been stuck in a holding pattern since he left. "Not a lot. I was writing for a wine magazine, up until a few weeks ago, and that was going all right. Oh, and I keep bonsai trees now, and my brother-in-law gave me the cutest thing at Christmas." Wanting to amuse him, I pulled out my phone and showed him the picture I'd sent to Murray of one of my favorite trees with the tire swing attached.

  Shane looked at the picture, then raised his eyes to me with a half-smile. "You carry around pictures of your trees. Like people carry their kids' pictures."

  I blushed, and didn't want to. "Well, just one picture. I took it to send to my brother-in-law and then I guess I just didn't delete it." I had actually kept it deliberately, since it made me smile every time I saw it, but it felt wrong to admit that to Shane.

  He didn't respond to my comment. Instead, he said, "You don't have kids, do you?"

  I shook my head. "Haven't had the opportunity." Of course, now I couldn't have them at all regardless of my opportunities.

  He studied me, and the intensity in his eyes made me think he was about to say something meaningful, but he just said, "That IS a cute tree, I must admit. Does it have a name?"

  I laughed. "I don't hang around all the time chatting with them. If it's got a name I don't know it."

  "The secret life of trees," he said, making an 'away with the fairies' kind of face. "I wonder what they're doing right now."

  I held my arms out as if they were branches and stared off into the distance. "Probably this."

  We laughed, and from there we chatted for ages. It felt like we'd never been apart.

  At least, it did whenever I kept my eyes from the heavy gold wedding ring he wore.

  I did that as much as I could, and we had a wonderful half hour together. All too soon, though, we were both out of coffee and he said, "I should go. If Liz finds out I was here..."

  I nodded. I didn't know exactly what would happen but I couldn't imagine she'd appreciate us being together.

  He reached across the table, and let his hand hover over mine for a moment before lowering it and giving mine a firm grip. "Keep fighting, okay? She does have printouts of some of our old emails, but none of them mention lottery stuff, just casino winnings. Your lawyer will know to fight her on that point, but just make sure to mention it if it doesn't occur to him." He gave me a wry smile. "Of all the ways I thought one of us would hit it big, I'd never have thought of the lottery. Not with what we called it back then."

  I frowned, not sure what he meant, but as he took a breath to answer I remembered and we said together, "A tax on people who can't do math."

  He smiled, and I did too but it was forced. We hadn't called it that. He had. I had played before him, but not while we were together because of his attitude. When I'd bought a ticket on a whim about a year after we split up I'd won thirty bucks, which had encouraged me to make it a weekly treat. If we'd been together, I would never have won the fifty million. Sitting with him now, I felt like the life I could have had was worth more to me than the money.

  We threw out our paper cups and walked to the door together. Outside, he looked around as if checking for spies then drew me around the corner of the building. "It really was good to see you."

  "You too," I said, feeling my heart start to race at the rising heat in his eyes.

  He slipped his hand around the back of my neck and took a step closer. "Do you ever wonder about us? What would have happened?"

  I nodded because I couldn't speak.

  Leaning even closer, so near me that I could feel his breath against my lips, he murmured, "Good. Me too."

  His hand behind my neck eased me toward him and he moved in for a kiss.

  There wasn't anything I wanted more, but I couldn't let this happen. Could I? "Shane, I... um..."

  His mouth on mine stopped my attempt at words and stopped the world around me. Nine long years, gone as if they hadn't existed. This was what I'd been missing, all that time, and I finally stood again at the crossroads and could take the right path this time.

  I slid my arms around him and kissed him back like my life depended on it.

  After a few glorious moments he drew back, his eyes dark and hungry. "We can't do this right now. It could ruin everything. I'd better go." He brushed his fingertips over my cheek. "Don't give up. Remember what I said. Okay?"

  "Okay," I whispered, too overwhelmed to speak.

  He turned and left and I stood until I felt like my knees wouldn't collapse then headed for the subway.

  I'd remember, all right.

  He'd said, "We can't do this right now."

  Right now.

  We.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Due to the whole 'someone's trying to kill me' thing, I hadn't been able to get to John's hockey game the previous Sunday, but I made up for it by hanging out with Zack this week as his dad raced around the ice with the other guys.

  John seemed a bit slower than his teammates but since he hadn't been able to play for a few months that made sense. They were between periods at the moment, down in their dressing rooms, so Zack and I were chatting to pass the time.

  "It's good you missed last week," Zack said through his last mouthful of the hot dog I'd bought him with the money John had given me before the cops showed up the week before.

  "How come?"

  He laughed, sending bun crumbs everywhere.

  I shook my head. "Disgusting beast."

  He
brushed off his shirt and swallowed. "Sorry. But Dad kind of suc-- he wasn't very good last week. He's better now."

  "He hadn't played for ages, so no wonder. Did he have fun, though?"

  Zack nodded. "But he was sore after. Hey, can we play that airport game again?"

  Zack's Christmas present from Tiff had been the same phone I'd bought myself, and we'd found a game we could play head-to-head. "Sure."

  As I went to start the game, though, I thought of something else. "Did you put my phone number in that thing?"

  He looked up from his phone. "Nope. Dad said I'd better not in case someone figured out it was you and tried to get money from you."

  John was so sweet. "Good point. But what if something bad happens? You know you can call me any time, right?"

  "Yeah. The number's on our home phone."

  "Won't help if you can't get to that phone." I looked out over the small crowd watching the game and noticed a gray-haired man wearing a "Williams" jersey. "What about using a fake name? Put me in as Forrest Williams or something."

  Zack laughed. "You think that'd stop my friends from trying to call you?"

  I smiled. "Guess not. What would?"

  He tapped something into his phone then held it up to show me.

  "Grandma? Yeah, that'd do it."

  Offering me the phone, he said, "Give me your number, Grandma."

  I raised my hand in mock threat. "I'll give you something but it won't be my number."

  He laughed. "Bring it on, Grandma."

  "Shut your trap, knucklehead." I took the phone and entered my cell number. "There. And do call me if you need me, okay?"

  He took the phone back. "If I need someone to beat at Call of Duty, I'll let you know."

  "Good luck with that, punk."

  He chuckled while tapping away at his phone, then the phone began playing the theme from our favorite of the "Call of Duty" games and he burst out laughing. "Yeah, perfect. That's your ringtone."

  I patted his arm, trying to look wildly sympathetic. "It doesn't bother you to hear it knowing that I always beat you?"

  He jerked his arm away with a dramatic head toss and we laughed.

  "What ringtone did you use for me?"

  "Same as your dad's. The one where the announcer says 'he shoots, he scores!'."

  He nodded. "Awesome. Okay, let's play with the airplanes."

  We started into the game, and after a few minutes he said, "Lacey was here last week, you know."

  I hadn't. "Ah."

  "She asks the stupidest questions. 'How come the goalie's so fat?'" His high-pitched whiny tone was clearly intended to imitate Lacey. "He's not fat, he's wearing tons of pads under his jersey because guys are shooting pucks at him, yeesh. How stupid can you be?"

  I tried not to smile. I didn't know much about the game either, but I knew enough to understand the general gist and I also knew Zack didn't like talking when he was watching a game on TV never mind one in which his dad was playing. "We're all good at different things, I guess," I said, feeling like I should defend Lacey though I didn't like her much myself.

  "Makeup and shopping," Zack muttered, "don't count."

  I couldn't hold back a chuckle, though I knew I shouldn't encourage him to talk about John's girlfriend like that.

  Zack grinned, then said, "Hey, they're coming back."

  His phone went away, and I sat thinking about Shane for a few minutes then went into my email since daydreaming about our kiss while sitting next to Zack felt wrong.

  Hey, Ang! Long time no talk.

  Look, I heard about your win - congrats! I tried calling but the new number you gave me isn't working so I figured I'd go with this. I know you've probably been trying to reach me.

  Anyhow, talk soon!

  Jackie

  A little of the brightness went out of my day. I did like Jackie, a friend I'd made at a wine convention a few years back, but I found her frustrating too so I hadn't given her my phone number again after its latest change. She'd always been a dreamer, which I did admire, but unfortunately she never supported her dreams with any hard work. In the years I'd known her she'd started and let fail five businesses, and when we'd last talked a few months ago the sixth and newest one was already struggling.

  Was she contacting me to talk about number seven?

  Hoping not, I made my first temporary phone number with the app the guy at the kiosk had given me and emailed it to her.

  Minutes later my phone rang, and I walked to the back row of the arena as I answered it so I could still see Zack but wouldn't interfere with his concentration on the game.

  "Ang!"

  I'd told her many times I didn't like the nickname but it had never sunk in so I'd given up. "Hey. How're you doing?"

  She laughed. "Good, but not as good as you. Fifty mill! I always say you're the luckiest and nicest person I know."

  I'd never heard her say that. "Well, thanks. What's up with you? How's the web design coming?"

  "The what?"

  Before I could remind her about her sixth business, she said, "Oh, that. I'm out of that. No money in it. Wow, it has been a while since we talked, hasn't it? I kept meaning to call you but it just never happened, and then your number wasn't working when I did. And of course I've been expecting you to call me."

  She could have meant that in just a 'phones go both ways' sort of way, but it sounded like more. "Why were you expecting that?"

  She laughed, sounding shocked. "Because you're loaded now, and no doubt in search of places to invest all that lovely money. And I have a great one for you."

  The muscle beside my eye began to twitch. "Which is what?"

  "You're going to love this. I'm starting a yarn store!"

  Too many thoughts rushed through my mind for me to be able to speak. As far as I knew, Jackie had no retail experience. I hadn't got the impression recently that retail outlets were a great business investment given how many people were buying online. And investing in the seventh business of someone who'd let six others collapse felt about as likely to provide a good return as investing in Zack to start a fan club for Lacey.

  "Hello?" Jackie chuckled and said, "You're stunned. I know, it's perfect, right?"

  Hardly. "Where are you planning to have the store?"

  "Somewhere in Toronto," she said, sounding surprised I cared. "Probably near my apartment, but wherever there's a place to rent, I guess. And then I get to fondle all the lovely yarn."

  A mental picture of Jackie at that first conference, listening to the speaker while knitting away at amazing speed, made this all make sense. She didn't want a store to sell to other people. She just wanted to stockpile yarn for herself. Which was fine, but wasn't a business. "Is there any profit in yarn?"

  "There has to be, the stuff costs a fortune."

  I'd noticed that, while shopping for Sydney. But that didn't necessarily mean profit for the seller. I took a breath to explain that to her, then John's suggestion about using Tiff as an excuse came back to me. "Look, I can't just jump into anything. My accountant would kill me. But email me your plan and I'll look at it. Okay?"

  A silence, colder than the ice in the rink, fell before she said, "Um, why?"

  "Why what?"

  "You know I work hard and you know I'm smart. Of course I can make this work. Why do you need a plan? It's not like you can't afford the money."

  I tried several times to find the words to respond to this, but they wouldn't come.

  "You're serious. You really expect me to write up a business plan," she said, sarcasm heavy in her voice at the terminology, "and send it to you. Just like anyone else who asks you for a little money."

  Annoyed I said, "What's a little? How much do you even need?"

  "Two hundred grand? I don't know exactly. But that'd be a good start."

  So she was essentially asking for an unlimited loan. "I need a plan. Send it and we can talk."

  She hung up.

  I considered calling her back but decided not to. I
nstead, I returned to my seat beside Zack. My timing was great, because right after I sat down John scored a goal.

  Zack and I clapped and cheered, and John turned and waved his stick at us, his grin lighting up his face behind his clear face shield.

  "That's awesome," Zack said. "He loves hockey. Cool he gets to play again and that we get to watch him." He turned to me. "Do you like watching him?"

  I nodded, still studying John. I did, actually. More than I'd have expected. He looked good in his hockey gear, big and strong and masculine. I didn't usually think about him that way but seeing him out of his usual context made him even more handsome than usual.

  "Cool. That's good."

  Yes, John being able to play again was one good thing that had happened because of my money.

  Sadly, though I tried for the rest of the game I couldn't think of many more.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  On Wednesday Tyler and I again met with Shane and Liz and Blair, and this time Tyler said that since my "generous offer" of ten percent had been rejected I would be giving them precisely no part of my winnings and would never consider renewing the offer. He was thrilled to say it, but I'd seen his sharp mind wondering why I had changed mine. He hadn't asked, though, which was good.

  How would I have told him I'd kissed the guy who wanted half my money?

  Of course, it wasn't Shane who actually wanted it, and refusing to give it to Liz felt a lot better than holding it back from Shane. Now that I knew their marriage was in trouble and knew she and Blair were involved, I could see both things so clearly. She turned to Blair far more often than to Shane, even when getting Shane's opinion would have made more sense, and there was a light in her face then that went out whenever she glanced at her husband.

  Blair told us, at the end of our unproductive meeting, that he was going ahead with the filing of the lawsuit. Tyler politely told him that he could do whatever he wanted, and Blair stood and left in silence. Liz followed him without a word or a look back at Shane, and Shane said, "Goodbye, Tyler," then turned to me and said, "Angela," in a calm voice before leaving. I hoped only I could hear the passion in it.