“We are. I love you. I worry about you. I didn’t want you to be stressed out.”
“And I’m not stressed now?”
Amelia blinked. This wasn’t how her imagined conversations had gone, because the issue of love hadn’t come up in those. She forced herself fully awake. The whispers weren’t inside her head. They were coming from the other side of the door.
“Carolyn had no reason to email you about the layoffs. My job is none of her business.”
“Carolyn’s my friend and was concerned. I’m glad that she told me because apparently, you don’t believe your job is any of my business, either.”
“Don’t say that, Jenny. You’re everything to me.”
“You made a fool out of me, Wilbur.”
“Baby—”
“Don’t you ‘baby’ me. Summer hours, my foot. Lancaster Cabinets never did that before. I should have known it was a crock. A charade. A lie. But like a fool I kept packing your lunch every morning. I should have realized why you hadn’t been finishing it. You hadn’t done anything to work up an appetite.”
“Sweetheart—”
“How long have you been laid off? Tell me the truth.”
“Since the end of June.”
“That’s six weeks!”
“They said we should be called back to work any day now.”
“Fine. Until they do call you back, you can do my job. I’m going out.”
“Jenny...”
Footsteps retreated down the hall. Moments later, the back door slammed. The noise woke Timmy, who wailed crankily for his mother. Will’s footsteps pounded up the stairs.
Amelia wouldn’t have intentionally eavesdropped, but there was little privacy in a house as small as this one. She lay motionless as she sorted through what she’d overheard. The mere fact that Will and Jenny had been arguing was difficult to absorb. She’d never seen them argue before. They seemed like the perfect couple, functioning as true partners in all aspects of their lives. Their love for each other and for their children was obvious. It surrounded them like a warm, fuzzy aura.
Then again, even people who loved each other argued. Her parents used to from time to time. Their arguments had tended to be loud, though, and frequently had involved breaking crockery.
The floor overhead creaked. Timmy’s complaining tapered off at the sound of Will’s voice. There was a sudden thud, which she recognized as Eric jumping down from his bunk bed. Owen’s taunts echoed from the stairwell as he raced his brother downstairs to the bathroom. The older boy won, as he did most mornings. Eric pounded on the bathroom door while his brother laughed. Toto’s nails scrabbled on the stairs as the dog added his barking to Eric’s complaints. The daily circus was beginning, whether Jenny was here or not.
Amelia rolled off the futon and reached for her clothes. At the movement, pain shot through her right shoulder and down her chest. She took shallow breaths until it receded, then carefully pulled off her nightgown. A bruise in the shape of a seat belt angled across her skin. The discolored area had enlarged overnight as the line of purple had gone blue along the edges. At least the swelling had subsided. She’d been lucky to get away with such a minor injury. It could have been much, much worse.
Hank had been wonderful. His sensible driving had likely saved their lives. He couldn’t have understood her desperation to reach the Whitcombe Gallery, yet he’d remained patient and calm and solid as a rock throughout the accident’s aftermath. His car hadn’t been fit to drive—the engine was fine, but the collision with the fence had jammed one of the front wheels against the wheel well so it couldn’t be steered. He’d talked the owner of the garage where it had been towed into renting him another car, but it had been well after five by then. He’d driven her home, walked her to the door and instructed Will and Jenny to keep an eye on her overnight, just in case she suffered any aftereffects.
Amelia yanked on her clothes and tugged a brush through her hair, despite the pangs the motions sent through her shoulder. She would have liked to blame her insomnia of the previous night on the physical effects of the accident, but she’d known her conscience had been the cause. She’d come close, oh, so close, to telling Hank the truth about the ticket, but in the end she’d chickened out. It hadn’t seemed like the right time. They’d just been in an accident. He had enough to deal with. He’d claimed he wasn’t hurt, but she’d noticed the stiffness in his movements, so he was probably as bruised as she was. And he’d been so kind, so considerate, she couldn’t bring herself to disillusion him. She couldn’t think of any way to tell him without hurting him.
If that seemed like some heavy-duty rationalizing, it was. She’d thought of plenty of excuses why she should remain silent. Number one on the list was the possibility Hank would quit before she actually recovered the ticket. He’d left her high and dry once before, hadn’t he? All right, that relationship had been personal rather than professional, but she couldn’t risk having him dump her again. Too much was riding on this. Regardless of how her conscience twanged, she couldn’t reveal the truth until it was over.
No wonder her brother had reacted so gleefully to the news that she’d won the lottery. His need for money was more urgent than she could have imagined.
There. Another excellent excuse.
Without Jenny’s stabilizing presence, breakfast was an ordeal. Will put up a good front as he doled out cereal and juice for the boys, and Amelia helped as much as she could, but the children sensed there was trouble. Neither Owen nor Eric seemed comfortable with their father’s claim that their mom had simply gone for a walk. The older boys were quarrelsome, and slunk off to the backyard to work on their fort. Timmy was too fussy to finish his breakfast. Even Toto was subdued, snuffling disconsolately as he licked spilled cereal from the kitchen floor.
Amelia cleared the dishes from the table and set them beside the sink. The dishwasher had gone on the blink three weeks ago. She understood now why Will had put off getting it repaired. “Want to talk about it?”
Will shook his head. “It’s Jenny I need to talk to.”
She stepped to the kitchen doorway so she could see into the living room. Timmy was sulkily building a lopsided tower of blocks on the coffee table. “Just so you know, Will,” she said, speaking quietly so there was no chance of the child overhearing, “I heard your argument through the door this morning.”
He grimaced. “Then you know I was laid off last month?”
“Uh-huh. And you pretended to go to work each day.”
He fitted the plug into the sink, added a squirt of dish detergent and turned on the taps. “I know it’s lame, but I didn’t want Jenny to worry. It’s not good for the baby or for her.”
“You wanted to protect her.”
“That’s right, only she doesn’t see it that way.” He watched the sink fill. Morning stubble bristled as he flexed his jaw. “I never meant to hurt her. I hadn’t meant to make her feel like she didn’t count. She’s the glue that holds this family together. I love her more with every year—” His voice cracked. “I hope she’s okay. She sure was mad when she left.”
Amelia rubbed his back. “Jenny loves you, too. And she wouldn’t do anything that would endanger the baby, no matter how mad she was. She’ll cool down.”
“I bet she went to Carolyn’s. That woman’s a busybody. Ever since her divorce her favorite pastime has been man-bashing.”
“Well, a divorce does tend to leave a person cautious.”
“Now I’ve hurt your feelings, too. I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t, I’m not that fragile. And we’re not talking about me here. If Jenny did go to her man-bashing friend’s place, then at least she’ll be able to blow off some steam.”
“Yeah.”
“But from what I know of my sister-in-law, she’s more likely to be lighting into Carolyn for stirring up trouble than to be criticizing you.”
That brought the hint of a smile from Will.
“I wish I could help,” Amelia said. �
�Do you want me to call her for you?”
“Not yet. Let her punish me a while longer. I deserve it.” He transferred the pile of dishes to the sink. Cutlery clattered against the stainless steel. He plunged his hands into the suds. “I knew she’d find out the truth eventually. Too bad it had to be like this.”
Amelia’s conscience stirred, but she batted it back down. “You had your reasons for what you did.”
“Yeah. It’s just that once I started to lie, I couldn’t see how to stop.”
“Believe me, I understand that all too well.”
“I see how you would. Does Hank know about the ticket yet?”
“No.”
“You still don’t trust him.”
“I can’t afford to, but that doesn’t mean I feel good about deceiving him. Actually, I’m feeling worse about it every day.” She took a tea towel that had been hanging from the stove handle and lifted a bowl from the dish rack. “But as I said before, this isn’t about me. Jenny thinks the world of you. You two will get past this.”
“I hope so. She got really anxious when I was laid off the last time, and I didn’t want to put her through it again.”
“It wasn’t your fault if the factory didn’t have enough orders. Times are tough everywhere.”
“Tell me about it. I wasn’t pretending to go to work. I was working a lot of those days, only not where Jenny thought. I delivered telephone books for a while. I cut grass down at the fairgrounds once. Last week I skimmed algae clumps off the water around the yacht club. Yup, I worked with pond scum. Talk about low! But money’s money.”
“Why didn’t you tell Jenny about that?”
“It would have worried her, too. She would have known as well as I did that my unemployment insurance checks and a few part-time stints wouldn’t be enough money to support the family indefinitely. And the only reason I got those jobs was because I knew the guys who were hiring.”
“At least Jenny’s medical bills won’t be an issue.”
“Yeah. Good thing the government covers health care whether I have a job or not. That’s one thing I don’t mind paying taxes for.” He took a deep breath and blew it out in a man-sized sigh. “Anyway, we’ll ride it out. I’ve put in job applications everywhere. If the factory doesn’t call us back, something else is bound to turn up.”
“I’m sorry that I’ve added to your burden, Will. You didn’t need another mouth to feed.”
“Forget it. You’ve bought more groceries for us than you’ve eaten, and don’t think I didn’t notice how you had your meals at Mae B’s whenever you could. And that’s not even counting the help you gave us with the furnace when you moved in.”
“I should have found a place of my own weeks ago. At the very least I should have insisted on paying you rent.”
“If you paid rent, then we’d have to pay you for all the housework and babysitting you’ve done. Believe me, we’re getting the better end of that deal. The word’s gone out about those two mechanics and the rug rat, not to mention the dog. The last teenager we talked into watching them wanted hazard pay.”
“I love my nephews. I wouldn’t take a cent for spending time with them.”
“And I wouldn’t take a cent for giving my little sister a roof.”
“But, Will,” she began.
“No buts.” He rinsed off the last cereal bowl, dried his hands on the towel she held and crossed his arms. His chin angled forward in what she recognized as his stubborn pose. “I know you don’t like when I bring this up, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten. It’s because of you that we have a roof in the first place. By rights you should have taken half the money from the sale of Mom and Dad’s house. Their will split everything fifty-fifty between us.”
He was right. She didn’t like to talk about that period of her life—it had been too painful. But this was the second time in two days she was recalling it. “This issue was settled ages ago. My scholarship covered my tuition and my living expenses. You needed the money more. You and Jenny had just bought this place. It made economic sense to decrease your liabilities by paying down your mortgage. You got to use what you earned instead of making the bank rich on interest.”
“Absolutely, it did make a lot of sense. That was the best financial advice I ever got. It’s because of you that we could manage on one salary and Jenny could stay home and raise the boys. The way I see it, this house is half yours.”
“No. Will—”
“We’re family, Amelia. You have a place with us for as long as you need it, so that’s the end of the discussion.”
His generosity humbled her. Now, more than ever, she had to get that ticket back. It would solve not only her own problems, but her family’s.
There’s no shortcut to the future.
Hank’s words from yesterday drifted through her mind. His approach to driving might have proved to be right, but when it came to the future he was dead wrong. Fifty-two million dollars would pave quite a shortcut.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE WHITCOMBE GALLERY was in the center of a three-story commercial building with yellow stucco walls and oversize, round windows on the ground floor. More round windows dotted the upper stories in a random pattern. It was probably supposed to be sophisticated, cutting-edge architecture, but it reminded Hank of a road sign that had been used for target practice.
He drove past slowly while he searched for a parking spot. The location was a good distance from the office towers that clustered in the downtown core, but apparently the site was close enough to a subway stop for a developer to consider it worthwhile to invest in a high-rise condominium complex. The billboard across the road pictured a soaring structure with lots of blue glass and balconies, although nothing was visible beyond the boards that had been set up along the sidewalk except the top of a construction crane.
Unfortunately, because of the construction, there were no vacant parking spaces along the street. The parking garage Hank found two blocks away was almost full—he had to wind his way to the fifth level before he found an empty spot. As soon as he’d eased the rented car into the space, Amelia picked up her purse and grabbed the handle of her door.
“Hold on a sec, will you?” Hank asked. He pulled a coiled tie from the pocket of his sport coat, flipped up his shirt collar and looped the tie around his neck.
“What’s that for?”
“Credibility, seeing as how we’re planning on buying some art. Whitcombe’s not running any flea market.”
“You look fine already.”
He couldn’t tell whether she meant it or whether she was being polite. He peered into the mirror on the visor as he fumbled with the knot of his tie. He’d taken extra pains with his appearance this morning, since the rumpled shirt-and-jeans look wasn’t the best way to impress a woman who used to run a multimillion-dollar business. And yes, that’s what he was trying to do. He wanted to impress Amelia more than he wanted to appear solvent for some gallery owner. At least he was being honest with himself and could admit it now—that was one thing the accident had been good for. He cleared his throat. “Thanks. You look terrific, by the way.”
That was an understatement if there ever was one. Like him, she had opted for less casual clothes today. City clothes. Her suit was made out of soft, cream-colored fabric that must have been custom tailored to fit her figure. She wore it over a shiny, scoop-necked blouse that was a shade of rich brown. The combination somehow subdued her red hair into the auburn she liked to claim it was.
She seemed surprised by his compliment. She brushed at a wrinkle in her skirt, then set her purse primly on her lap. The purse was another item he hadn’t seen before. It matched her shoes, which were strappy, tan leather and had heels at least three inches high. They made her legs look shapelier than usual, if that was possible. “Thank you,” she said.
“Is that outfit from before?”
She thought it over a beat, but she must have known what he meant. “Good guess. I didn’t get rid of my entire wardrobe whe
n I moved in with Will and Jenny. I put a few of my favorite outfits in a Rubbermaid tub and stored it in the attic.”
“You look classy. Like one of those fancy pastries with whipped cream and chocolate in the middle.”
“Uh, thank you again.”
“How does it feel?”
“What?” She smiled. “To be dressed like a chocolate éclair?”
He extended his tongue between his teeth and pretended to bite down on it a few times. “Yup. Still tripping over it. I meant how does it feel to be back in the city?”
Her smile faded. “I’m not sure. I hadn’t thought about it.”
“You lived in Toronto for close to fifteen years. Don’t you miss it?”
“I miss some things.”
“Like going to ritzy restaurants and concerts?”
“Not really. Going out was nice, but I doubt if I’ll ever be completely comfortable in a restaurant again. Not unless I give the waitstaff huge tips.”
“So what are the things that you do miss?”
“My job mostly.”
“This might be a dumb question, but what exactly does a financial advisor do?”
“Essentially, I helped people make the most of their money. To do that, I got to know each individual client so I could devise an investment plan that suited their income and their needs. That’s one part of the job I really enjoyed. I liked the challenge of trying to outguess the market, too.”
“You were always good at math. You must have been a wiz at investing.”
“Sure, I made oodles of money for my clients. All the more for Spencer to steal.” She tapped her fingers on her purse, then twisted to reach for his tie. “Here, let me do that or we’ll be here all day.”
He dropped his hands and tilted up his chin. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his sudden intake of breath as her knuckles brushed his throat. She was just trying to be helpful. She seemed to know what she was doing, too. Her fingers made quick work of the knot that he’d skewed. She must have had plenty of practice tying Spencer Pryce’s ties.
The resentment that usually arose at thoughts of Amelia’s ex-husband didn’t happen. That was too bad. It made resisting the urge to kiss her that much harder. Her scent surrounded him. Her face was only inches from his and she still had the old habit of pursing her lips as she concentrated on her task. It wasn’t an invitation, but...
Winning Amelia Page 10
