by Kara Lennox
“Mr. Remington. You’re looking better. And is this Mrs. Remington?”
“No,” they both said at the same time.
Sara stepped back self-consciously. “I’m not really his wife. I said I was Mrs. Remington so I could see him.”
“Sara was just leaving.” He didn’t want to say goodbye to her so abruptly, but neither did he want her privy to his stress issues.
“Right.” She gave him a sad little smile. “Take care.” She left, and it didn’t feel right at all.
“Can I go now?” Reece asked impatiently.
“Not so fast. You weren’t having a heart attack, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have some serious issues here.”
Reece listened with a sinking feeling as the doctor described the state he’d been in when he arrived-gasping for breath, elevated blood pressure, racing pulse.
“We want to keep you overnight for observation. Then we can release you, but only if you schedule some tests.”
“I can’t stay,” Reece said. “I have to get back to New York.”
“I guess you haven’t heard about the hurricane.”
“That’s why I have to leave now. It’s extremely important that I be on a plane in the next twenty-four hours.”
“Well, all right,” the doctor said on a sigh. “They carry defibrillators on planes now. You should be fine.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mr. Remington, you’re a walking time bomb. Next time, those chest pains really could be a heart attack. If you don’t slow down and address your stress issues, you might not live long enough to become CEO or CFO, or whatever it is you aspire to become.”
Reece closed his eyes. Good God, what was he doing to himself? Was a stupid job, or pleasing his father, worth killing himself over?
To hell with his meeting. He’d have to miss the damn thing. When the doctors cleared him, he would fly back to New York, but only for long enough to resign his job, pack up his stuff and put his condo on the market. Then he would move back to Port Clara.
He would do just what Allie had suggested. He’d start a little accounting business, maybe take up running again. He would take care of himself.
God help him, he would learn to eat exotic vegetables and whole-wheat whatever. He would take yoga classes, if that was what it took to reclaim his health.
He wanted to live to be an old man, and he wanted to do it with Sara.
SARA’S FACE WAS WET with tears as she drove back to Port Clara in Valerie’s rental car. She tried to tell herself they were tears of relief that Reece wasn’t dying.
But that wasn’t it.
She’d been crushed with disappointment when Reece had called to tell her he was heading home early to beat the hurricane. But she’d been able to convince herself-just barely-that she shouldn’t be so selfish, that Reece’s job was a huge priority in his life even if she didn’t understand that. Just because he was going back to New York didn’t mean they were finished.
But when she’d seen him in the E.R., gorgeous even hooked up to machines, she’d seen the truth in his eyes. He hadn’t wanted her there. Then he’d iced the cake. He’d told her he wanted to pay her to drive his car up north.
She was still Sara the B and B maid to him. Someone who needed his money, not an equal at all. Maybe they could have a good time in New York, and maybe it would never happen. But his attitude had brought everything into clear focus.
He didn’t care for her the way she’d come to care for him. And if she’d learned one thing about relationships, it was that it never worked when one person was wildly in love and the other wasn’t.
She was going to have to break things off with Reece. She would come up with some excuse why she couldn’t drive his car to New York, and that would be that.
Oh, hell. What about the baby?
She had to tell him. But only after she’d figured a few things out, like how she was going to live and pay for things. If Reece wanted to be a part of his child’s life, of course she would welcome it. But she wasn’t going to be his burden, his charity case, the big mistake he would always regret.
Chapter Fourteen
By the time Reece was released from the hospital the next day, he felt he’d aged twenty years. Although the doctors had assured him there wasn’t an imminent danger of dying, he’d been diagnosed with hypertension and his cholesterol was seriously out of whack.
He’d been given numerous lectures, seemingly from any doctor or nurse who felt like letting loose on some hapless patient. Loaded down with a couple of prescriptions, a number of tests he needed to schedule and a healthy eating plan he’d sworn to follow, he finally escaped from the medical profession’s clutches.
Max picked him up. “How’s it going?” he asked casually.
“I might live to the end of the year, at least.”
“You look better.”
“I feel better. Seriously.” And it wasn’t just because his symptoms were gone. Having made the big decision about his life, he felt as if a huge anvil had been lifted from his shoulders. His neck no longer felt stiff. He could breathe.
“So where to?”
“Airport.”
“Um, you sure about that? I mean, the weather-”
“Yeah. I can’t resign over the phone. I have to face Archie in person.”
“All right!” Max high-fived him. “About time you saw the light. That company was going to chew you up and spit you out eventually.”
“It almost did.”
“So what’s your hurry? There’s no rush to make the meeting now. Who cares if Archie fires you?”
“It’s Bret. I need to help him get ready for the promotion. But then it’s over. He’ll have to manage on his own.”
“I wish you luck, man.”
The airport was worse than before, but somehow it didn’t bother Reece at all. He stood in various lines for hours, almost got on a plane at five-thirty but didn’t, and returned to ticketing.
Although the hurricane had been downgraded to a tropical storm, the winds were picking up.
Unruffled, he got another reservation for Monday morning, when they believed the worst of the storm would be over. He wouldn’t make the meeting, that was a given.
He called his father and gave him the bad news.
Archie reacted worse than Reece had anticipated. He yelled and cursed and threatened, but Reece just held the phone away from his ear until his father calmed down.
“I don’t care how you get here,” Archie said. “Take a train, car, ox cart, but you be at that meeting or don’t bother coming back at all.” He hung up.
“Well, that didn’t go quite as I’d hoped.” Reece found a semicomfortable chair and went to sleep while the storm raged outside.
THE MEETING WAS long over by the time Reece rolled into Remington Industries’ Manhattan headquarters Monday afternoon. He greeted the receptionist with a smile, wondering if they were going to stop him and call security, since he probably no longer had a job.
“Good morning, Mr. Remington,” she said, smiling a little more broadly than usual. Maybe it was because she saw something in him that hadn’t been there before. Something like love.
When he got to his office, he was dismayed to find it empty. Other than the battered furniture, nothing was left to indicate he had spent eight years of his life here.
He guessed his dad hadn’t been kidding.
Strangely, he wasn’t terribly bothered by the fact Archie had carried through with his threat. His father’s actions saved him the trouble of resigning.
“You’re back.”
Reece whirled around to find Archibald Remington III standing right behind him, but not looking as intimidating as usual. Was that a…smile on his face?
Archie patted Reece on the shoulder. “I trust you got my nephew married off in fine form.”
“Um, yeah. The wedding was great.”
“I heard something about a hurricane. Is that what delayed you?”
Hadn’t Reece tol
d him that, like, six times? “Yes.”
“Well, at least you’re back now. Come to my office, we have things to discuss.”
Dead man walking, he thought as he followed Archie down the carpeted hall. Did everyone already know?
Once inside his palatial office, Archie reached for a wooden box on his desk and held it out to Reece. “Cigar?”
Cigar? Archie had never offered Reece a cigar in his life. “I don’t smoke.”
“Oh, right.” He snapped the box closed, then slid behind his desk and sank into his plush leather desk chair, indicating a wing chair for Reece. “I’ll get down to business, then. Bret told me everything.”
“Every…what?” What the hell was he talking about? How much did he know about Sara?
“Today’s meeting was an unmitigated disaster. A train wreck.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” He genuinely was. Though he was leaving Remington Industries, he had no desire to do harm to the company or his father’s department.
“Your brother came off like a flaming imbecile. Afterward, he told me you’ve been doing all his work for years, and he’s been taking credit for it.”
“Dad,” Reece objected, “that’s just not true.”
“Yes, it is, and I should have seen it. Without you there to prop him up, Bret couldn’t answer the simplest questions.”
“I’m sure he’s just having a bad day.” Reece had never felt he was doing Bret’s work for him. He’d felt more like…like the go-to guy, the one who solved sticky problems, freeing up his brother for more important things.
“He’s having a bad decade,” Archie declared. “There’s no way he can do my job, and he freely admits it. He suggested that if I want a Remington to step into my shoes when I retire, it ought to be you. And after giving it some thought, I agree.”
“Say what?”
“I’m offering you the vice presidency. The board will have to approve, of course, but they’ll go along with whomever I endorse. We’ll have to put in some long hours to get you ready. Are you up to it?”
“So I’m not fired?”
Archie laughed. “Fired? Where would you get that idea? Oh, your empty office. I had your things moved into Ed Jameson’s old office. We’ll be working closely over the next few months, and Ed’s old office is closer to mine.”
The corner office?
To buy time, Reece stood and walked to a side table where a pitcher of ice water and a couple of glasses had been set up. He poured some water and gulped it down.
Vice president. Reece Remington, vice president.
From a professional standpoint, it was everything he’d ever aspired to be-the title, the respect and the chance to chart a course for the company’s financial future.
He let the possibility shimmer in his mind for all of fifteen seconds before he set down his glass with a thud and shook his head. “I can’t do it.”
“Pardon me?”
“Dad, I’m grateful you want to put your faith in me. But I can’t be a vice president. In fact, the only reason I came back here today was to turn in my resignation.”
Archie gaped at him.
“The real reason I didn’t make it back in time for the meeting is I was in the hospital. I’m on the short list for a heart attack if I don’t get rid of the stress in my life. I’m moving to Port Clara, opening a small accounting practice, and if all goes well I’ll get married and give you some more grandchildren, and I’ll live long enough to see my own grandchildren.”
All the color drained from Archie’s face. “You’re quitting? Leaving the family business just like that?”
“I’ve given it a lot of thought.”
“You can’t leave,” Archie declared. “I won’t let you make the biggest mistake of your life. Cooper and Max lost their minds when they quit and moved to that backwater town, but I thought you had more brains than that.”
“It’s the smartest thing I can do for myself,” Reece said with utter certainty. He felt bad, knowing he was disappointing his father. But he would feel worse if he knuckled under to Archie’s demands.
“You do understand what you’re giving up? That I just offered you a vice presidency?”
“It wouldn’t mean much if I had a heart attack and died.”
Finally Reece’s arguments seemed to get through to Archie. The older man pressed his lips together and gazed off into space.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“Well…” Archie sighed. “When you put it like that…God knows your mother would never forgive me if I gave you a heart attack.” He rose and walked to the window, staring out at the Manhattan skyline, and Reece gave him a few moments to absorb the news.
Finally Archie turned back to face his son, and he was smiling again, though not quite as convincingly. “So when do we meet Sara? I presume she has something to do with your decision.”
“She has a lot to do with my decision-but she doesn’t know it yet.” He could only hope she would welcome his change of plans.
Chapter Fifteen
Sara had a bad feeling about this meeting Miss Greer had called. The two of them and Valerie sat in the kitchen, drinking tea and eating some cookies Valerie had baked. But despite the informality, Sara knew Miss Greer was going to tell her something she wasn’t ready to hear.
“Miss Greer, you aren’t sick, are you?” Sara blurted out.
“Oh, no, dear, I didn’t mean to worry you. My hip is healing up just fine. But I’m not as young as I used to be, and keeping up with the bed-and-breakfast is getting to be too much for me. I’ve depended on you far too much lately, and you might not always be here if a certain young man has his way.”
“Who, Reece?”
“Who, Reece, she says.” Miss Greer shared a conspiratorial smile with Valerie. “So, anyway, I’ve decided to sell the Sunsetter.”
“Oh, no!”
“Now, Sara, don’t take it that way. My daughter wants me to come live with her, and it would be crazy to say no. Imagine, after all these years with no family, I suddenly have a daughter and grandchildren who want to get to know me.”
Sara struggled not to be selfish. “Of course I understand. But are you sure? You’ve lived here almost your whole life.”
“I’ve run this business for sixty-odd years. I’d like to retire and enjoy whatever time I have left.”
Sara could have argued that it would be cold in Michigan, that Miss Greer would miss Port Clara’s balmy weather. But if Miss Greer wanted to be with her newfound family, who was Sara to argue?
“Then I’ll wish you the best of luck in your new life. Can I come visit? I’ve never been to Michigan.”
Miss Greer finally smiled. “I’m counting on it. You’ll bring Reece, and the grandchildren, too.”
“Grandchildren?” Sara squeaked. Did Miss Greer know something? Was Sara’s pregnancy oozing from her pores?
But Miss Greer moved on. “There’s something else we need to discuss.”
What now? Sara didn’t know if she could take any more bad news.
“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see own the Sunsetter than you. Would you be interested in buying it? I would sell it to you on very friendly terms.”
“Oh! Gee, I never thought of myself owning real estate.” Owning a home seemed so permanent. Yet she had called this place home for more than ten years. And now that she had another life to think about-a child who would require space and a yard to play in, maybe a dog…
“I don’t know that I could swing it,” she admitted. “I don’t have any money for a down payment, and if I did…well, I really need a new car.” She had no idea how much the B and B was worth, but she imagined it to be far out of her reach.
“Why don’t we talk to my banker?”
“I’ll think about it.” But she was pretty sure she already knew her answer. She loved the Sunsetter. She knew every nook and cranny, every cabbage rose on the living-room curtains, every squeaky floorboard, every inch of the oak molding. But now that sh
e’d lived here with Reece, shared meals with him in the kitchen and dining room, made love to him in his room and hers, she couldn’t stay here.
She still half expected to run into him every time she rounded a corner. And though she had eradicated every scrap of his existence from his room, the smell of the soap they’d used here for years now reminded her of him.
The entire B and B had become a painful reminder of the fact he’d chosen his work over her. She’d been toying with the idea of leaving, starting something new. Only Miss Greer’s dependence on her had stopped her. Now that she knew Valerie and her mother would be taking care of Miss Greer, Sara could make her own plans.
Sara tidied up the kitchen, then stepped out to the front porch to pick up the mail. There was a strange envelope addressed to her, from the Princess Cruise Line.
She almost tossed it, thinking it was junk mail. But then she remembered that she had applied for a chef’s job there months ago. She tore it open and read the letter.
Holy cow. They wanted her. The job was probably low on the galley totem pole-she had nothing prestigious in her references. But on a cruise ship! It was something she’d always wanted to try.
Besides, anything beat waiting around here, thinking about Reece. The salary wasn’t half-bad, and she would have health insurance. Maybe a job on a cruise ship was only a stopgap measure, but it would give her some time to think and plan.
She called the personnel director and told them she would accept the position. He instructed her to report for work the following Monday.
REECE’S PALMS FELT clammy as he boarded a plane at LaGuardia. He would fly to Dallas, where he would catch another plane to Corpus Christi. Max would meet him there and drive him to Port Clara. Then he would freshen up at Max’s condo and head for the Sunsetter.
His damp hands had nothing to do with the engagement ring in his pocket. He’d never been more sure of a decision in his life. As crazy at it was, he and Sara were meant to be together. Their life together would not be without adjustments, to be sure, but it would certainly never be boring.
