THE MILLIONAIRE SHE MARRIED

by Christine Rimmer

  Lacey made a small, tender noise and held out her arms.

  "And then there's the divorce," Jenna said. "Mack gave me the papers. I have to take care of that. Can't have it dragging out forever this time. It's best if I cut it clean."

  Lacey just looked at her, arms still outstretched.

  Jenna stared back, defiant—and aware of her own foolishness. Was there really anything to be gained by rejecting an offer of comfort and love?

  Jenna rose from her chair and went to kneel beside her sister. She rested her head in Lacey's lap and felt Lacey's gentle hand stroking her hair.

  "You still love him?" Lacey asked.

  "Mmm-hmm."

  "And he still loves you?"

  "Yes."

  "So why did he leave?"

  Jenna sighed again. "Can we just … let it go? I don't really want to go into it now."

  "You're acting as if it's pretty much final."

  "It is." Jenna lifted her head and looked into her sister's eyes. "It's absolutely final. He's gone and he's not coming back."

  The small blue box, tied with a white bow, was waiting on her pillow when Jenna went to her room a few minutes later.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the box and turned it over in her hands.

  There was a card attached.

  Jenna,

  I bought this years ago. In New York. Right after I won the lawsuit and I had the money I'd always wanted, but I didn't have you. I went into a certain store on Fifth Avenue

  , and I saw this and I wanted it for you. I could damn well afford it. So I bought it. And I've kept it. And I've thought that I would probably never give it to you.

  But somehow, this seems the right time.

  The note ended there. She turned the card over, hungry for some final word of love, of endearment, of sweet tenderness. There was none. Not even his name.

  She tugged on the end of the white ribbon. It fell away into her lap. She lifted the lid.

  Inside, on a bed of white satin, sat a small, perfect pin in the shape of a cat. A cat made of diamonds. With twin emeralds for eyes.

  She lifted the little cat free of the box and went to the mirror above the big bureau. With great care, she pinned it over her heart.

  It wasn't the kind of thing that looked right with the T-shirt and khaki skirt she was wearing. But she admired it anyway, turning it slightly, back and forth, so the stones caught the light and winked at her.

  Then she took it off and laid it back in the box. She wrapped the box in the white ribbon and tied the ribbon in a bow. After a little pulling and smoothing, it looked just as it had before she had opened it.

  She took the card and the blue box and put them in the bottom drawer of the bureau. The drawer also contained the silver rattle her great-aunt Matty Riordan Bravo had sent from Wyoming when Jenna was born. And a garnet ring Jenna had prized as a child. And also the little velvet case that held her wedding band.

  Jenna treasured every item in that drawer, though they were all things she wouldn't wear or use again.

  * * *

  Five days later, on Friday at seven in the evening, Erin Kettleman came knocking on Jenna's door. Her hair was neatly combed, held back with two butterfly clips at her temples. She wore a faded brown jacket and carried a small tan purse.

  "Is he here?" she asked. "Mr. McGarrity?"

  Jenna's heart gave a little lurch at the sound of his name. "No, he left on Sunday. For Florida, I believe."

  Erin Kettleman put her hand, palm flat, against her chest. "I've left Riley with the children. He's very responsible. And Lissa's asleep." Her thin lips tipped upward in a wobbly smile. "I don't know how long she'll stay that way, though. I—"

  "Mrs. Kettleman, please. Come in." Jenna reached out and took the other woman by the arm.

  Erin Kettleman allowed herself to be led inside, to the front parlor.

  "Have a seat." Jenna offered the Chippendale-style chair near the sofa.

  "Thank you." Erin Kettleman took the chair.

  Jenna went to the sofa and perched on the end, close to her guest. "Something to drink?"

  "Um. No. I really can't stay long."

  "Your jacket?"

  "I'll just keep it on." The dark eyes scanned the room. "This is a beautiful old house."

  "It was my mother's."

  "Your mother's." Erin Kettleman folded her hands over the tan purse that lay in her lap. "Well. That's real nice."

  The two women stared at each other. Silence yawned, then both began speaking at the same time.

  "I don't know how to—"

  "Did you cash the—?"

  They both stopped, smiled, apologized.

  Then Erin Kettleman said, "Yes. I cashed Mr. McGarrity's check. Riley talked me into it. He can be very convincing, that boy." A wistful gleam came into her eyes. "He's a lot like his daddy, to tell you the truth."

  Jenna took in a breath, then released it in a rush. "I'm so glad. That you cashed it."

  "And I'm so grateful. And sorry for how rude I was last Saturday. I didn't believe it. I couldn't let myself believe it. Lately I've had the feeling that one more disappointment would finish me off. My husband, Riley senior, he died just six months ago. We … we never had much, but when Riley was alive, somehow we always got by. Since he's been gone, though, things have just seemed to go from bad to worse. I've been real scared. Scared we just weren't gonna make it. Scared that…" Erin Kettleman decided against finishing that thought. She pressed her mouth tightly closed and looked away.

  Jenna leaned closer and brushed a hand against Erin's worn coat sleeve. "But you weren't disappointed this time, were you?"

  "No. No, I was not." There was that quavering smile again. "Let me tell you, that was some moment I was shaking when I signed the back of that check. And then the teller took it, along with my ID, and punched up some numbers on her computer. Then she said, 'How would you like that, Mrs. Kettleman? In hundreds?'" Erin Kettleman let out a short, high-pitched laugh. "My heart just stopped, I'm not kidding you. Just stopped dead right there in my chest. I thought there would never be another moment quite like that one. But I was wrong."

  Jenna frowned. "Wrong? How so?"

  Erin Kettleman unsnapped the clasp on her purse. She reached in and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She held it out. Jenna took it.

  It was a letter from Mack, a curt, straight-to-the-point letter on plain stationery with no return address. Jenna scanned it quickly.

  Dear Mrs. Kettleman,

  I have decided to establish a trust fund in your name. For the next twenty years you will receive five thousand dollars per month to help cover living expenses for yourself and your family. Also, since the cost of education continues to rise, I have set up college funds for each of your four children.

  Please contact the Meadow Valley office of Dennis Archer, attorney-at-law, at your earliest convenience to receive your first payment from the trust. Mr. Archer will be happy to answer any questions you may have concerning this bequest.

  All my best to you and your family,

  M. McGarrity

  "It came today," Erin said, her voice hushed, hollow with something very close to awe. "I called that attorney. He said…" Erin closed her eyes, breathed deeply and opened them again. "He said that he'd been waiting for my call. I have an appointment, for ten o'clock Monday morning. I can hardly believe it. Why? Why would he do such a thing? He doesn't even know us. We're strangers to him."

  "Strangers?" Jenna smiled. Oh, Mack, she was thinking. Oh, Mack. What a lovely, perfect thing to do…

  Erin Kettleman was staring at her, waiting for her to go on.

  Jenna tried to explain. "I think that, in a certain way, Mack feels … very close to you and your family."

  "In what way? Please tell me. Please help me to understand. It's so hard to believe that this is really happening. I keep thinking I'm gonna wake up in a few minutes and find out it's all just a crazy, impossible dream. Maybe if I knew why he did it … please
, Ms. Bravo. You've got to tell me."

  There was no resisting such a plea. Jenna didn't even try. She told Erin Kettleman of Mack's childhood, of the father he'd lost and the mother who had given him and his sisters into the care of the state. Of the funeral the two of them had attended recently in Southern California.

  Erin's eyes were misty by the time the tale had been told. "How sad," she murmured. "How awful for him and his sisters—and for his mother. That poor woman. There was a time I would have judged her for what she did. But after the past six months … I think it's the worst thing that can happen to a mother, to wonder if you're going to be able to take care of your own. To find yourself thinking that maybe they'd be better off without you. Oh, that is painful. That is the worst thing in the world."

  Jenna nodded. "I think he wants your family to have a better chance than his did."

  "Well." Erin stood. "Thanks to him, we will."

  Jenna rose and handed her the letter. Erin tucked it back into her purse. "I plan to write to him. To thank him. I suppose I can just … give the letter to the lawyer?"

  Jenna understood Erin's unspoken question: Should I give it to you? "Yes, give it to the attorney," Jenna said firmly. "He'll know where to send it so that Mack will be sure to get it."

  "Well. All right, then. I suppose I'd better get on home." Erin turned for the front door.

  Jenna followed behind her, then moved past her in the foyer to open the door. The night air outside was cold. Erin shivered and wrapped her jacket closer around her.

  And Jenna went ahead and asked the question she'd been wanting to ask since she'd answered the door and found Riley's mother standing on the porch. "Do you think you might bring the children by now and then? I'd love to see Riley again—and maybe hold little Lissa…"

  It was Erin's turn to touch. She clasped Jenna's shoulder. "I'd love that, too." She grinned. Jenna thought she looked very young at that moment. "But I've got to warn you. They can be a handful."

  "That's all right with me."

  "Then I'll call you. In a week or two. We'll drop on by."

  "That would be wonderful."

  "Maybe Mr. McGarrity could come by too and—"

  Jenna shook her head. "I'm afraid he's not coming back."

  "Oh?" Erin let go of Jenna's shoulder. "But Riley said he thought the two of you—" Erin cut herself off, blushing a little. "Well. What does an eleven-year-old boy know, anyway?"

  Jenna smiled. "He knows enough. Unfortunately, it didn't work out, between me and Mr. McGarrity."

  Erin sighed. "I'm sorry."

  "So am I."

  There was a silence. The two women regarded each other. Then Erin wrapped both arms around herself again. "You're standing here in just that light sweater. I should let you go."

  "Come any time. I mean it."

  Shyly, Erin promised that she would.

  Jenna waited until Erin had climbed into the battered green hatchback before she closed the door. Then she leaned against the door frame, wrapped her own arms around her middle and stared down at her shoes.

  She felt joy, she realized, for the Kettleman family. And pride. It was a truly fine thing that Mack had done.

  She also felt sadness. Always, she felt sadness lately.

  She did miss him so.

  And the house seemed so quiet. She could use a little company. But the door to the back parlor was shut. It had been shut when Jenna came home from her store. Apparently Lacey was hard at work and didn't want to be disturbed.

  With a sigh, Jenna pushed herself away from the wall and turned for the kitchen. She would brew herself a nice pot of tea to cut through the evening chill. And maybe in a little while Lacey would emerge from behind the louvered doors. They could share the tea and Jenna could tell her sister what Mack had done for Erin and her children.

  But an hour later, Lacey's door remained firmly shut. Jenna rinsed out the teapot and went to her own room.

  * * *

  The next morning when Jenna entered the kitchen to fix herself some breakfast, she found the coffee brewed and her sister fully dressed, leaning on a crutch and frying eggs at the stove.

  "Lace? It's seven in the morning. Are you feeling all right?"

  Lacey turned her head and looked at Jenna over her shoulder. Her eyes were shining, her face flooded with excited color.

  Jenna stared. "You look … terrific."

  "I'm fixing breakfast," Lacey said in a strange, hushed tone. "We'll eat. And then I think it's time you saw what I've been working on." Lacey pushed a heavy lock of hair back off her face and added, "I think it's pretty good, but—" She cut herself off with a nervous shrug. "Well. Whatever you think of it, you're bound to see it sometime. Might as well get it over with."

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Jenna followed behind as her sister stumped into the back parlor.

  The painting was waiting where Lacey had somehow managed to prop it, against the side of the sofa bed. Lacey gestured at it with a toss of her bright head.

  "There it is," she said grimly. Then she stepped to the side and waited for Jenna's reaction.

  At first, Jenna could do no more than stare.

  "Well," her sister demanded after a minute. "Hit me with it. What do you think?"

  Jenna didn't know what to think. It was a nude, a male figure, and it was utterly breathtaking in its sensuality and power. A mask covered the face—a stark, simple mask that seemed carved from dark stone. In spite of the mask, Jenna knew who her sister's model had been. There was something in the tilt of the head, the shape of the shoulders—though of course, Jenna herself had never seen Lacey's subject in the nude. And she had certainly never perceived the stunning sensuality that her sister must see when she looked at him.

  "You hate it," said Lacey flatly.

  "No," said Jenna. "No. It is … incredible. Beautiful. Perfect."

  "Oh." Lacey sucked in a breath, let it out slowly. "You think so? You honestly do?"

  Jenna nodded. "Words fail me. But it's good, Lace. It's more than good."

  Lacey let out another long rush of air. "You cannot know how terrific it feels to hear it from someone else—even if that someone is my sister who thinks everything I do is just fabulous."

  "This is more than a sister's loyalty talking here, Lace. I swear to you."

  "I think you mean that."

  "You know I do—but I have to ask…"

  Lacey closed her eyes. "I wish you wouldn't."

  "Lace," Jenna said softly. "Please. Look at me."

  The sisters stared at each other. Then Lacey announced, "I need to sit down."

  Jenna waited as her sister hobbled to the easy chair. Once Lacey was settled, Jenna asked tentatively, "The painting … it's Logan, isn't it?"

  Lacey nodded, then let out a short, slightly wild laugh. "I warned you I might check on him, to see how he was doing, after you left."

  "And I, um, take it you did."

  "Did I ever. I still don't really know how it happened. I thought I was going to comfort him, I guess. I knew his poor heart was broken at losing you for the second time. How we ended up in bed together … well, stranger things have happened, I suppose, but not to me. It was crazy. Totally insane. It lasted for five incredible days, until I lost poor Byron and put my foot through the ceiling, which made it necessary for you and Mack to come home."

  "Lace. Do you love him?"

  Lacey closed her eyes again, let her head fall back against the chair. "I think I do," she said in a whisper. "Can you believe it? I think I love Logan Severance. Sometimes it seems that I might have always loved him. I just didn't realize it." Lacey opened her eyes and looked at Jenna. "He was the last person I ever thought I'd love, I swear that to you. I never had any … designs on him. Until I knocked on his door after you and Mack left town together, it never even occurred to me that maybe the animosity I'd always felt toward him was based on something else altogether. I hope you don't think that I—"

  Jenna put up both hands, palm
out. "Hey. It's okay. You don't have to convince me. I believe you. And you're both honorable people. Nothing would have happened between you if Logan and I had stayed together. I know that."

  Byron appeared then, from the door to the central hall. He strutted up to Lacey and jumped into her lap. Lacey waited until he settled down and then scratched him behind the ears.

  "Logan still loves you, Jenna."

  Jenna opened her mouth to protest, but Lacey only shook her head. "It was a classic rebound situation for him, that's all."

  Jenna knelt beside her sister. "No, Lacey. Listen. It's honestly over, between Logan and me. And it never could have worked between us, anyway."

  "Tell that to Logan."

  "I will. If you want me to."

  "No."

  "But I—"

  "No. I didn't really mean that, about talking to him. Please don't say anything to him. Please just leave it alone."

  "But if you love him—"

  "If I love him, what?" Lacey had stiffened. Her eyes sparked with blue fire.

  "Well, then you can … work things out." Jenna knew that sounded lame.

  Apparently Lacey thought so, too. "Work things out?" she scoffed. "Like you and Mack did?"

  Jenna had no answer for that. She stood and backed away a step. Byron, clearly uncomfortable with Lacey's sudden agitation, jumped from her lap.

  "I just told you. Logan doesn't love me. He loves you—and you love Mack McGarrity, don't you?"

  "Lacey, I—"

  Her sister looked up at her, pure challenge in her eyes. "Don't you?"

  "I…"

  "For heaven's sake, will you just say it?"

  "All right. Yes. I love Mack."

  "And Mack loves you? Is that right?"

  "Yes. He does. He loves me."

  Lacey made an impatient sound. "I have to tell you, Jenna. If I thought Logan loved me, no one—and nothing—could keep me away from him. So I have to ask, what's your excuse?"

  "Well, I … we…"

  "You, we, what?"

  Jenna blurted it out. "I want children. He doesn't."

  Lacey frowned. "He doesn't want children … ever?"

  "That's what he says."