Windy City Romance: Boxed Set: Prequel - Book III

by Barbara Lohr

  By the end, Vanessa had this dreamy look on her face. “Sure beats Disney World. Sounds wonderful. Also sounds like you have some things to work out with Mallory.”

  How was that going to happen if she didn’t speak to him? By the time the three of them said good-bye, Amy was wavering. McKenna gave her the evil eye, and Vanessa had pulled her aside, whispering suggestions that sent Amy into a tailspin. Ten minutes later, she was waiting for the light to change on Harlem when her phone gave the tiny ping indicating a message.

  Mallory’s text flashed up. “I wish you would answer.”

  She tossed the phone onto the seat beside her.

  When the light changed, she floored it. Dreaming of the Rialto Bridge, she drove under the tracks of the rattling “L” train on its way to downtown Chicago. By the time she got back to her apartment, all she wanted to do was climb into bed and pull the covers over her head. Maybe being in love was exhausting. She didn't recall ever feeling like this. Not with Jason. Not with anyone.

  Her world had reverted to black and white. Before entering her apartment building, she’d turned and taken a good look. The street, the cars, even the changing leaves of the trees—everything was black and white. She dragged that sad thought up the stairs behind her, and it followed her to bed.

  That week with Mallory the world felt so vibrant. Seeing everything through his eyes had brought a new dimension to her life. In class, they often discussed point of view. The students liked to speculate about how The Great Gatsby would be different if told through Daisy’s eyes.

  She'd loved seeing Italy through Mallory’s eyes, even though his comments often led to questions in her mind. He’d been so sweet, with that soft southern accent and his exquisite manners. Blocking him out completely didn't really seem fair. After all, hadn’t she kept her own truth from him?

  Amy missed him. This went way beyond sex.

  “Too tired to talk tonight,” she texted back before she drifted off to sleep. “Soon.”

  “Soon?”

  “At last. A light at the end of the freaking tunnel.” Mallory stared at the phone in delighted disbelief.

  “The tunnel of Amy?”

  “Correct, my man.” He slapped the phone down next to his soup bowl. Mallory and Chad were sitting in Corleone’s, sipping chianti while they wolfed down pasta fagioli with a chaser of Italian bread dipped in pesto. His favorite meal but tonight, tasteless. Every bite took another chunk out of his heart.

  What would he give to be eating pesto again with Amy back in Monterosso? Anything. Every blessed car lined up in his garage.

  “Making any progress?” Chad asked.

  “Not really. Well, one text. I’ve pleaded with both her mother and sister to help me out here. I am in a heapa trouble, Chad. I've been all over hell and half of Georgia trying to think this out.”

  “Maybe you need a therapist. You’ve been jumpy as a kerosene cat lately,” Chad grumbled.

  Rolling his eyes, Mallory took another gulp of chianti.

  His cousin set his fork down. “How many times do I have to apologize?”

  “It's not your fault. Not really.” Mallory pushed the saucer with pesto aside. “I should have explained everything to Amy while we were in Italy. But I just couldn’t, Chad. Truth is, I was terrified. For the first time in my life, scared to death.”

  “Of what?”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t take long to realize I wanted this woman in my life. I was terrified that she’d run like hell if she ever knew the truth about how I got there.”

  “You do have it bad.” Chad broke off another hunk of bread. “Thought I was supposed to be the best man in your wedding.”

  “We already did that. This was different.” An understatement and Chad’s bemused grin told him as much. “I’m dying here. Amy’s last text was hopeful. I have to believe that.”

  “Final call, Mallory. Cameron Fairchild wants that car. Time to fish or cut bait.”

  He pushed back from the table. “Told you what you can do with that car.”

  Chad squirmed. “Painful option. All right then. Car goes to Cameron.”

  As Mallory drove home that evening, he took his usual Bull Street route, passing the squares of Savannah. End of September, but still felt like summer. In Savannah, fall ambled in with studied gentility. He always enjoyed the season’s understated arrival. When he reached Forsythe Park, he stopped the Jag. He loved the sight of the moss dripping from the live oaks leading to the fountain. Couples strolled in the soft darkness or cuddled on benches.

  Pain cut a swath through Mallory as wide as Sherman’s march to the sea. Public displays of affection, or PDA, happening all around the park. He’d always hated it, but Amy had totally changed his mind. Lordy, she’d changed his mind about a lot of things, including marriage.

  Approaching his property, Mallory hit the remote. He didn’t feel the usual thrill of satisfaction when the gate at his entrance swung open. Driving through the portico, he lowered this window. The gardeners must have been working that day, and the sweet scent of freshly mown grass filled the air. After parking in the garage, he tapped out his password on the keypad to the rear entry and entered the coolness of his climate-controlled mansion.

  Nellie always left a light on in the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he took out a carton of milk. That wine was wreaking havoc with his stomach. After pouring half a glass, he rooted around in the larder until he found the ginger snaps. Milk and cookies might ease the burning pain that plagued him since his return from Italy. The spicy soup hadn’t helped. He hardly knew what he was eating until it took a sharp knife to his insides. Or was this infernal burning in his heart?

  Trudging up the wide front staircase, he thought about the couples in Forsythe Park. Damn lucky and they didn’t know it. Reaching into the box, he came up with a handful of cookies. Anything to stop this stomach pain.

  In the upstairs hallway hung family portraits, including an oil of his mother. Only in her twenties, Anne Thornton exuded girlish charm. Not hard to see why his father had fallen in love with the belle of Atlanta. Owen Thornton had commissioned the painting shortly after Mallory was born, and it had hung in his father’s private office at Thornton Enterprises until his death. Portraits of the three of them as a family were also showcased against the green moiré wallpaper. One family grouping always brought a smile. As his mother had told it, Mallory had caused such a ruckus at the sittings that the artist threatened to abandon the project. Finally she allowed the use of photographs as a reference points for her rambunctious little boy.

  His parents had treasured that painting, commissioned when Mallory was about three. His father’s left hand rested on Mother’s shoulder with genuine affection, her right hand clasping his. Romance and passion, that was what his parents had held for each other. One for grand gestures, Owen Thornton had plied Anne with trips and gifts galore. Sure, his father had been driven by the corporation he created, but he’d been madly in love with his wife.

  Love.

  The floor shuddered, and his box of ginger snaps slipped to the carpet. Earthquake? He grabbed the banister that circled the upper hall. But all was still.

  All but his beating heart.

  Damnation. He was in love with Amy.

  In his mad rush to seal the deal, had he told her?

  This might call for a grand gesture.

  Chapter 24

  Amy sat in her car outside her mother's house. Mom and Aunt Em were expecting her and Caitlin for Sunday dinner. For the past week, she’d done nothing but send text messages to Mallory saying she didn’t want to talk to him. The misery of waiting had made her sick.

  Truth was, she was too afraid to talk to him. Afraid to hear words like “mistake.”

  Shoving open the car door, she made it up the steps to the red brick house. Her mother never locked the door on Sundays. The smell of meatloaf curled toward her when Amy entered the living room, and she pressed one hand to her heaving stomach.

  “Finally, we'
ve been waiting for you!” Wiping her hands on her apron, Aunt Em bustled out of the kitchen and gave her a good, sound hug. “How you doing, chickadee?”

  “Pretty good.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  “Good to know.” Her aunt wanted a smile and Amy gave it to her.

  “Dinner in ten minutes. I'm stirring the gravy,” her mother's voice sang out. Door still open, Aunt Em peeked over her shoulder. “Looks like Caitlin's right behind you.”

  Her sister had pulled up behind Amy’s car, parking under one of the oaks that bordered the walk. One brisk gust of late September sent dry, red leaves skittering over the sidewalk. Amy would have to come over and help Mom and Aunt Em rake, a task that today seemed impossible. Where was her energy?

  “Hello, hello. Sorry I’m late. Kurt can’t come. Off to a Bears’ game.” Unzipping her brown quilted jacket, Caitlin pushed the door closed behind her. “What happened to Italy and warmer weather?”

  “Not asking the right person.” Amy gave her a hug.

  Aunt Em retreated to the kitchen while the two sisters set the table. Amy always laid the plates while Caitlin took care of the silverware.

  “Mom tells me you’re not answering Mallory’s calls.”

  “Texts only. Just not now, okay?” Had Mallory mentioned the bet to her family? She’d avoided them since her return, but he obviously hadn’t. The air felt thick with disapproval.

  “But you two are married! How can you not talk to him?”

  Amy studied the table. Always the same mistake…since second grade. “The blade faces in, Caitlin.”

  “Does it matter?”

  Caitlin’s sigh weighed on Amy. Maybe she was the one just a beat off. Circling the table, she flipped each knife. “Yes. No. Oh, Cait, I don’t know anymore!”

  Throwing up her hands, she wandered out to the kitchen. Mom’s face was flushed from the heat of the stove as she handed Amy the platter of meatloaf circled by browned potatoes. Usually Amy’s favorite, but not tonight.

  “How you doing, honey? Haven't had much time to talk to since we got back. Mallory just started right in with us, and it’s been so busy.”

  “He can be like that.”

  “We’re learning about business plans.” Aunt Em held the swinging door open for Amy.

  “How’s that coming?” She couldn't help but smile even though the meaty scent was turning her stomach.

  “You'd be surprised. Of course, Mallory’s so patient…” Aunt Em’s voice took it from there.

  Amy nodded. Didn’t she know how charming the man from Savannah could be? Sitting at the table in the heart of her family, Amy felt something was missing. She remembered all the meals her mother had served in this room while she was growing up. A time of coming together—that’s what each meal had been.

  So, why did she feel lonely?

  ~.~

  Glenn has just finished the morning’s announcements the next day when Al Wesley appeared at the door of room 207. “Time to write in your journals,” Amy directed her junior writing class before turning to Al, who taught in the classroom next to hers. First period was his prep period, so what was he doing here? “Hey, what’s up?”

  She couldn’t read her colleague’s smile. “Haven’t got a clue. Glenn sent me up to get you.”

  Her heart stuttered. A family emergency? “Is everything all right?”

  “Right as rain.” A bear of a man, Al waved his coffee mug and stared down the students who were way more interested in them than in their journals. “Not to worry, okay? Just happened to be passing by and he sent me down. Some paper for you to sign or something. I’ll stay here ‘til you get back. What’s your lesson plan for today?”

  “Thesis statements. That’ll teach you not to hole up in the lounge during your prep period.” She took off, not wanting to inconvenience Al for long. What paper could Glenn have for her?

  The second floor hallway was quiet except for Darlene’s voice carrying out into the hall as she discussed Beowulf with her freshmen. Amy took the stairs down to the main office on the first floor. When she opened the door to the first floor, the strong smell of flowers engulfed her, as heavy as the sweet scents of Rapallo or Venice. Amy’s stomach lurched.

  Was that really her mother, beaming as she stood next to Aunt Em in the pretty dress she’d bought for her original wedding? A sight for sore eyes in his navy jacket and blue striped shirt, Mallory was flanked by McKenna and Vanessa. Bright-eyed and looking oh, so pleased, McKenna and Vanessa smiled encouragement, while Caitlin grinned. Mallory looked decidedly nervous. From somewhere, a squeezebox played and she was transported. If she closed her eyes, she was back in Italy.

  Glenn hovered in his doorway, a look of bemusement on his face. His assistant threw Amy a secret smile before disappearing back into the office.

  “What’s going on?” Clutching her green sweater around her, Amy gave her head a good shake. She could swear the song played by the musician with dark curly hair was “Return to Me,” one of the numbers she’d listened to again and again on her Dean Martin CD since she got back from Italy.

  With the endearing smile she’d carried in her heart since Italy, Mallory began to sing, off-key and wonderful. At the end, he sank to one knee while her mother wiped away tears. “Amy, I love you. Be my wife. Return to me, darlin’. I’m begging you.”

  Her mother and aunt burst into applause. In the commotion that followed, Amy might have been the only one to hear Mallory’s words. Gathering her into his arms while her heart brimmed with love and her stomach did a back flip, Mallory told her he’d given up the reins of his company to his cousin. He intended to stay here in Oak Park, helping her family. “As long as it takes for you to know you’re my wife.”

  The idea was crazy, wild and wonderful.

  She’d follow him anywhere.

  “Yes, yes, but I should tell you something…”

  Wearing the smile that had won her heart in that restaurant in Monterosso, he waited.

  “Mallory, I have to use the restroom…”

  Epilogue

  Nine Months Later

  Amy stood back to study her handiwork. Cheerful giraffes and mischievous monkeys smiled at her from the green and yellow wallpaper of the nursery. “What do you think?” she asked Caitlin. “Appropriate for a miracle child?”

  “I think you should be sitting down.” Gently, Caitlin took the wallpaper brush from her sister’s hand and nudged her into the white wicker chair they’d found at a flea market. “Look at your ankles. Too much time on your feet.”

  Amy glanced down and then remembered she hadn’t been able to see her ankles for more than two months. Thank goodness school had just ended for the year. She’d lumbered through the last weeks. Resting one hand on her bulging stomach, she smiled. “Gianna likes it.”

  “What if it’s a boy? You wouldn’t get the ultrasound,” Caitlin scolded. “Everyone at McKenna’s shower complained about all the yellow baby clothes.”

  “I like surprises. That much is certain.” Hadn’t this pregnancy been the surprise of her life? Mallory’s too. The man was over the moon…or the marsh, as he would say

  “Cara,” he’d told her, nuzzling her neck. “I hope we have a little girl. She’ll be beautiful, like you.”

  “You couldn’t handle two of me.”

  “That’s more than true, darlin’. It most certainly is.” He’d laughed with delight.

  After his surprise declaration in the middle of Immaculate Heart of Mary High School, Mallory had settled in with her in Oak Park. Of course, the small apartment drove him crazy so he’d found this house, not far from her mother. Said he wanted to keep a place in Oak Park anyway, making her family very happy.

  After the baby came and things were settled, they would move to Savannah. She felt awed by his mansion that sat in the historical district, but they would be together. When he made short business trips back to Savannah, she felt so lonely. His board had insisted he return to head the company and Mallory had
agreed, but on his own terms. She was so proud of him.

  Caitlin edged closer, lips curled into a curious smile. “Can I feel? Just one little pat?”

  Amy nodded. Throughout the pregnancy, her sister had been a gem. She was the only one who could totally share in the wonder, since only Caitlin knew of Amy’s earlier prognosis. According to Amy’s new doctor, Logan Castle, she’d defied the odds with this unexpected pregnancy.

  “McKenna says the head’s in position,” she murmured. How great was it that one of her best friends was a midwife? Amy’s desire to have their baby here, surrounded by friends and family, had Mallory’s total support. McKenna would deliver the baby in her water birthing suite down at Montclair Specialty Hospital, where McKenna worked.

  Taking one of her sister’s hands, she rested it where a foot poked upward. The pregnancy and all the discoveries of the last nine months were still a mystery to her. Vanessa had laughed with delight as Amy’s situation unfolded.

  “Pregnancy by mistake,” Vanessa had teased her at their monthly meeting at Petersen’s Ice Cream parlor. “Worked for me.”

  Now Amy placed one hand carefully over her sister’s, and they shared a smile. The baby felt busy today. Then Caitlin went back to work. Heaving herself to her feet, Amy pressed a hand into her aching back. The wallpapering must have stretched muscles she hadn’t used in a while.

  Her sister began packing up the wallpaper supplies. Mallory had wanted to hire someone to decorate the nursery but Amy has insisted on handling it herself. Caitlin had agreed.

  Feeling as if a bowling ball was weighing down her lower stomach, she kicked off her sandals and rubbed her rigid tummy. “Whew, take a nap, Gianna Anne.” Mallory had been so pleased when she’d suggested they use his mother’s name.

  What felt like a cramp caught Amy by surprise, only this was the worst cramp she’d ever had. Wow, she couldn’t get her breath.

  “You okay?” Caitlin came closer.

  Amy waved her away. “Perfectly fine.” After all, the baby wasn’t due for another two weeks.

  Caitlin shook her head. “You’re probably hungry. I’ll go out and pick up something. Don’t mess with the newspapers on the floor. I’ll take care of it when I get back. When will Mallory be here from the airport?”