“Who said I’ve forgiven her? She stole my boyfriend. Jimmy was my first love. That kind of thing stays with a girl a long time.”
“Oh, pisshaw. You and Jimmy weren’t really in love. All that twittering and moon-pie eyes was just your hormones kicking in. That’s why I sent you to your aunt. I figured it was a lose-lose situation. If I fired Jim, you’d see him on the sly because he was the victim. If I ordered you not to date him, you’d probably have run off together. I couldn’t shoot either one of you, so I put you on a plane.”
“You could have trusted me to be smart. Even if I’d have had sex with Jimmy, I would have used birth control. I wasn’t dumb.”
“You were fifteen. I was raised in a time when that kind of thing—con-sen-tual or not—was against the law. I know times have changed, but I haven’t changed quite as fast.”
“You could have bought me a chastity belt.”
“We didn’t have eBay in those days.”
His joke was so unexpected, she laughed outright. And nearly sideswiped a FedEx van. She took her foot off the gas. “Oops.”
He made a pointing motion with his index finger, indicating she should turn at an exit she’d never used before. “We’ll take the back way in. Wanna show you something.”
A few miles later, her nose prickled as an unpleasant odor crept in through the open vents. “Eew.”
She looked around for a dairy but all she could see was rows and rows of nut trees.
“What you smell is turkey manure. It’s a great additive to the soil. I use it myself, but there’s no way to deodorize it. For the first couple of days, if the wind is blowing in the right direction, it’s enough to make you choke.”
Casey was desperately trying to breathe shallowly through her mouth, but the smell permeated her entire respiratory system and left a bad taste on her tongue.
“Now, imagine this produced daily, weekly by the turkeys your husband’s company wants to put next door to me.”
She stepped on the gas and once they’d cleared the offending orchards rolled down the window. “It’s not Nathan’s company.”
Red didn’t reply.
Casey knew what she had to do. She’d known before she left San Francisco to accompany her father to his doctor’s appointment. She couldn’t sit back and not help. She was, after all, her father’s daughter.
“I’ll call Sarah and set up a meeting before I leave today. I have to put on a dinner party for Nathan’s staff on Saturday, but I’ll be down next week to get the ball rolling.”
Red let out a satisfied sigh. “Good. Then, I guess, I’ll schedule my little procedure, too.”
Casey was glad, but there was a part of her that wanted to cry.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE FOOD WAS OUTSTANDING. Crab cakes so fresh they could have come straight from Nantucket. Vichyssoise chilled to perfection. Rack of lamb with some amazing rub that tasted Middle-Eastern without being overpowering. Dessert—a chocolate raspberry torte—was too beautiful to cut, but they did anyway. Casey ate every bite and part of Nathan’s.
“Gwyneth, everything was fabulous.”
“Thank you, Casey. Nathan deserves the credit for picking up the tab, of course.”
A few satisfied chuckles were accompanied with a toast. “To Nathan. Our new commander-in-chief.”
“Here. Here.”
Everyone lifted their snifters of port. Everyone except Casey. Although she’d had a few sips of chardonnay, the first sniff of dessert wine had made her stomach react most unpleasantly.
She added her water goblet to the mix and exchanged smiles with the group. Five male lawyers and their wives. Two female lawyers. One with her female partner and one who came alone. With Casey, Nathan and Gwyneth, that made sixteen. Casey stifled a shudder, imagining how crowded their apartment would have been with this group squeezed into it.
“Coffee or espressos, anyone?” Gwyneth asked. “I splurged and bought a new Breville espresso maker. Felt positively uncivilized without mine.”
Casey glanced at her husband. She couldn’t deny that Gwyneth was gorgeous, smart and organized to the max, but surely that comment was just a bit too much. Right?
Their gazes met, but she couldn’t tell anything from the look he gave her. He’d seemed inordinately closed and tense since the moment she’d returned from the valley. Probably because she’d dropped the turkey bomb in his lap the minute she walked in the door.
“I have to do this, Nathan. He’s my dad.”
“And I’m your husband.”
“And you’re not going to make me choose between you, are you? I’ve been wracking my brain trying to come up with a compromise, but the best I can do is try to stay in the background. At this point, nothing has really been decided anyway. The planning department will present their recommendations to the planning commission and the public will be invited to speak. There are plenty of people who can make our position known. I don’t have to do that.”
“But you will.”
He knew her too well. He’d picked up his briefcase and left with a “I have to go back to the office.”
She’d curled up in bed and tried to relax, but images she hadn’t liked much kept dancing through her fertile mind. Finally, she’d made a cup of tea and watched a little Letterman. When her eyelids felt heavy enough to stay shut, she’d returned to her big, empty bed. At last check of the clock—twelve twenty-seven—her husband still hadn’t returned home.
“So, Casey,” Gwyneth said, coming back into the room with a tray of demitasse cups, cream and sugar. “Nathan said your father wasn’t well. I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”
Casey felt all eyes turn her way. “Worry. Oh, wait, I’m doing enough for ten people.” Those around her chuckled. “Actually, I feel a little more optimistic after meeting with his doctor. The statistics on curing prostate cancer are quite high.”
“His prostate?” the fiftysomething lawyer across from her asked. Casey was pretty sure the man’s name was Eric, but she couldn’t recall his last name. His wife, Rosaline—or Roz, as she’d asked to be called—appeared to be several years younger, but she seemed friendly and very down-to-earth. “My dad had that.”
Casey had heard that a lot in the short time since she’d learned of Red’s diagnosis. “How’s he doing?”
Eric looked at Nathan. “He passed away, but that was nearly twenty years ago. They’ve made a lot of advances in treatment, I’ve heard. Especially with early diagnosis.”
Casey ignored the little flutter in her chest. She wasn’t ready to be an orphan. “I was very impressed with my father’s doctor. He took his time and explained each step thoroughly.”
“Where is he being treated?”
When she told him the name of the facility in Fresno, Roz let out a little gasp. “What a small world. My sister is a nurse there. I’m from Clovis. Where does your dad live?”
Casey glanced at Nathan. She’d promised to keep a low profile. This wasn’t a good way to begin. “The Central Valley,” she mumbled, taking another sip of water.
“Casey’s father is a prominent rancher and nut grower near Chowchilla,” Nathan announced loud enough for everyone to hear. “His place is in close proximity to the land one of Eric’s clients wants to build a new turkey hatchery on. Just to be clear on the matter, Casey and I are both professionals and know to keep our personal and business lives separate but to avoid any potential hint of conflict of interest, I’ve made Gwyneth second chair.”
Nathan stood up, lifting the demitasse cup Gwyneth had set before him. “I’d like to make a toast. To a fine group of lawyers.” Casey’s hand was shaking despite the fact that she was pinching the tiny handle as tight as she could. “May all of our current cases turn into wins.”
She brought the cup to her lips, but her stomach was too full and too nervous to cooperate. Even one taste would probably have pushed her over the edge.
“Is the espresso not to your liking, Casey?” the ever-vigilant Gwy
neth asked. “Or would toasting compromise your integrity?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Gwyneth shook her head as if the answer to Casey’s question was obvious. “It must be difficult to choose where to place your loyalty—with your husband or your father. I don’t envy you that decision.”
The room had grown still. She looked at Nathan, whose handsome face was frozen in a mask she’d seen all too often when he was unhappy about the way a case was going. She put down her cup and stood up. The fine china made a light clatter against the saucer, which was just enough noise to attract the attention of the people at the other end of the table. “It was so nice to meet all of you tonight. I hope you’ll excuse me, but I’m still getting used to West Coast time.” A tragically lame excuse.
“Would you like to lie down in my room?” Gwyneth asked.
Several images—none pleasant—washed through her mind, making her slightly ill. “No. Thank you. It’s been a very long and stressful week. I really need to say good-night.”
Gwyneth started to stand up to, but Nathan beat her to the punch. “Stay. Everyone. Please. I’ll be right back.”
She grabbed her jacket—a puffy, quilted silk the color of fine champagne. The nights in this city, more often than not, were downright cold when the misty fog rolled in off the Pacific.
“I’m sorry, Nathan. My head is pounding, and I really don’t feel well. Maybe the crab…”
“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down here until I can leave, too?”
His concern touched her. She could tell he was worried. This wasn’t like her at all. “Can’t. Sorry.”
Was this a smart move? Heck, no. Strategically, wimping out was playing into Gwyneth’s hand, but the pulsing beat in her head said, “Bed. Now.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll call you when I get there. I got around Boston just fine without a bodyguard. It’s probably just the emotional turmoil that’s zapped me. I’m sorry.”
Nathan pulled her close. “Don’t apologize. I was an idiot to schedule this party without taking into account what you’ve been going through with Red. Forgive me?”
She melted against him. How could she not? She loved him. “Will you be late?”
He shook his head and kissed her, sweetly.
As she settled back in the cab a few minutes later, it struck her that he hadn’t really said when he’d be home. Whenever Gwyneth let him out of her clutches? Casey knew without a doubt that she and the barracuda were going to have words—at the very least.
“SO WHAT ABOUT the third of June?” Eric Mathers asked Nathan as they stood on the balcony, as far away as possible from the smokers.
Casey had left half an hour earlier and had just called to tell him she was curled up in bed. He wished he was with her instead of freezing his butt off trying to keep his party from crashing. He honestly hadn’t realized until tonight just how much he relied on Casey’s support, her wit and charm, to make a party a success.
Gwyneth had done her best, but she lacked Casey’s compassion and tangible interest in the people around her. The difference in the two women’s styles had never been more apparent.
“Sorry, Eric, you lost me. What’s the third of June?”
“The first Saturday of the month. Weather permitting, Roz and I would like to take you and Casey out in our boat. There’s a group that gets together once a month for a little social cruise.”
“Sounds great. I did some sailing with college friends, but don’t think I’ve been out on the Bay except once when my parents took us to Alcatraz.”
“Excellent. I’ll go tell Roz. She really likes Casey.” He hesitated. “Um, I hadn’t planned to tell anyone about Casey’s dad, but it was probably smart to get your connection to the opposition out in the open. Less chance of it coming back to bite you on the butt.”
Nathan’s respect for the man continued to grow. Eric was smart, levelheaded and had integrity. “Well, I had hoped that Casey would be able to stay out of the fray, but her father’s illness pretty much torpedoed that idea.”
“Completely understandable. You’re both going to be under a lot of stress in the next few weeks, which is why you’re going to love getting out on the boat.” Eric grinned. “We like to tell people we’re taking them on a three-hour tour.” He walked away humming the theme song from Gilligan’s Island.
Nathan was still chuckling when he opened the door and walked inside. “What’s so funny?” Gwyneth asked.
Nathan decided not to mention the invitation Eric had extended. The last thing he wanted was to have Gwyneth and Casey on the same boat—those three hours would seem more like forty. “I’m surrounded by smart and witty people,” he said. “You did an outstanding job tonight, Gwyn. I really can’t thank you enough.”
She ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her brandy snifter and gave him a patently sexy look. “Oh, you could probably come up with a way if you thought about it.”
He swallowed and glanced sideways to see Roz Mathers watching, just a few steps away. His blush felt like one of those hot flashes his mother had complained about last Sunday. “Um…people are starting to leave. I’d better play host.” To Roz, he said, “We really haven’t had a chance to talk. Do you have a minute?”
With a wide, genuine smile that reminded him slightly of Casey, Roz took his arm. “Sure.”
As they strolled toward the entrance, he said, “Eric probably told you we have a tentative date to go boating. I have to check with Casey, but if it works out, be sure to call her and let us know what we can bring.”
Roz made a hand gesture that said, “Don’t worry.” As he helped her into her coat, she said, “You know, I’m an Okie by birth. My parents did the Grapes of Wrath thing, only thirty years later. Eric hates it when I tell people that, but I’m proud of my heritage. People who grow up poor see things differently. Money. Looks. Possessions. You can hold on tight to any of them, but in the end, what do you have when you’re ready to cross over? Family.”
Nathan nodded, not exactly sure he understood the point behind her message.
“Just tell your wife that if she needs a hand on the antiturkey picket line, she can call me.”
“Won’t your husband be upset?”
“Of course, but it wouldn’t be the first time we didn’t agree on something and it won’t be the last. Doesn’t mean we don’t love each other.”
Her words were still in his head when he let himself into his and Casey’s apartment two hours later. For the first time in a week, he felt optimistic that he and Casey would get through this ordeal in one piece.
He hung up his coat and changed into slippers—the tile floor was bone chilling at times, then tiptoed to the bedroom to check on Casey. She was sound asleep. Sitting partially upright with her open laptop resting on a pillow atop her knees.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, kissing her brow.
Once he picked up the computer, she gave a little groan and fell over sideways to curl up in her usual sleeping position. Her regular breathing told him she was out for the count, so he carried the laptop to the small antique secretary that Casey had set up in the corner of the bedroom. She claimed it was bad Feng Shui, but the lack of space was just one of her many complaints about the apartment they’d settled on.
Casey’s lack of enthusiasm about this move had been apparent from the start, but Nathan had been certain once they got back to California, she’d feel more at peace with things. To his surprise, Casey seemed to have made the adjustment more quickly and with considerably more grace than he had. She and her father were getting along swimmingly, while Nathan felt more disconnected from his family than he ever had.
Impulsively, he carried the unit into the living room and sat down. He touched the mouse pad, intending to log off whatever Casey was working on and check his e-mail.
The image that filled the screen was a ball of speckled white-and-gray fur with pale blue eyes and a shiny black nose. The pup appeared to be smiling for the came
ra. His mind couldn’t help jumping to certain conclusions.
His guess was confirmed when he closed the little X in the corner of the page and found the original e-mail that had included the photo as an attachment.
Casey T,
Doc says she checks out just fine. A few worms. Took care of that and got her shots. Still needs a name. Have you told your husband, yet? Shake a leg, girl. She’s your dog. Whimpers every time I say your name. Gotta go.
R
Nathan shook his head and sighed. He needed an antacid tablet but was too tired to get up and find the bottle. The rich food, liquor and the fat cigar someone had pushed on him had definitely done a number on his stomach. Now, he had to figure out what to do with a dog.
“Damn.”
He switched to his e-mail and scrolled up until he found his sister’s online name. Her e-mail voice was just as rushed as she was in person.
N
Mom got an offer on her house today. Sounds good. Will keep you posted.
C
Double sigh.
He signed off and got up. Although restless and cranky, he decided to go to bed. He slipped between the sheets slowly to avoid disturbing Casey, but she woke up with a yawn so wide he could see her tonsils.
“Glad you’re here,” she mumbled, holding out her arms as her eyes closed again.
He went happily, inhaling her smell, absorbing her warmth. She was back asleep within seconds, but he nuzzled her neck, tasting her. As he closed his eyes, his mind flashed to his mother telling him, “Big boys don’t need fuzzy rabbits to sleep with, Nathan. Give Mr. Bunny to me.”
Maybe she’d gotten tired of washing the dilapidated thing. Or sick of patching its threadbare wounds. Nathan didn’t know, but he’d given up his best friend without so much as a murmur. He was glad his mother didn’t have any say in his current sleeping partner. Casey beat the heck out of a security blanket. He didn’t plan to give her up without a fight. He just wasn’t sure who he was fighting: Red? The turkeys? Or himself?
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