“Oh, yeah. She’s a Green Bay fanatic. Mari and I brought her back a cheese-head hat when we went to a game at Lambeau Field. She loved it. Drove us crazy wearing it every time we all watched football together.”
“Good God. I’m surprised she didn’t wear it when we watched the Bears/Packers game together.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “You watched the Bears/Packers game together?”
“Yeah, at her place, complete with a comfort food buffet. She sure can cook.” Jack picked up the night shot of the JPH Building. “Wow. Look at this. How the hell did she get this shot? She must have been hanging from a helicopter.”
“Actually she was. She was coming back from the train wreck in Kentucky.” Charlie took the photo out of Jack’s hand. “Let’s get back to football at Lizzie’s house. When was this?”
“A few weeks ago.” Jack shook his head thinking about Beth hanging out of a plane over a conflagration. “She was flying over that chemical fire in a helicopter? More than a dozen train cars ignited. She’s got a lot of courage.”
****
Charlie thought about the years he’d known Lizzie. She had been fearless in Guatemala. Lizzie and Mari went into areas where there was guerilla warfare to rescue children. Lizzie was in Sarajevo and the Middle East during the Gulf War while bullets flew, traveled in tanks in Iraq. She faced a world without parents as a young adult and stood up to him when he tried to withdraw from a world without Mari.
“She has more courage than you and me put together. She’s gone through a lot. It’s amazing she’s not bitter. Lizzie is the original softie. Even with all the assignments, she still manages to dedicate her free time to Mari’s orphanage. Her pictures have raised more money than any other fundraising.”
Jack looked at the photo of the JPH Building again, gestured at others on the table. “She takes the most astounding pictures. I think she was drawn to the ‘necklaces’ on the top of the buildings. She loves sparkly lights. Have you ever been to Zoolights at Lincoln Park Zoo? Beth took me to see them Sunday night. Blew me away.”
I’ll be damned. “You’ve been seeing Lizzie?”
“Let’s look at the rest of these proofs.”
“Not so fast. Are you and Lizzie dating each other?”
“No.” Jack put the proof down and focused on the next image. “I lost a bet and took her to Lou’s for pizza. Then we met the next day at church, by chance. Whatever. When does the book come out?”
“I want to run this by Lizzie, too, but I was thinking of a book launch party on New Year’s Eve.” Charlie wasn’t about to let this go. “What’s going on with you and Lizzie?”
“Nothing. She isn’t interested in me, either, so it’s mutual. She still has the hots for Prescott,” Jack sneered. “I do not see what she sees in that jackass. I played my part well enough to make Wally jealous.”
Charlie studied Jack, read his body language detecting the “tells” that he was skirting the whole truth.
Doesn’t look me in the eye, a slight raise of his shoulders. Oh he’s interested all right.
“Hey, I forgot to tell you. I beat Prescott out again. I got the GC Building contract.”
Charlie’s head spun with Jack’s quicksilver change of subject, but he returned Jack’s high five. “Congratulations. You deserve it.”
For now, he’d let the subject of Jack and Lizzie go. Maybe. “I’m thinking about inviting Lizzie to dinner on Thanksgiving at Grandma Viv’s. She showed me I have a lot to be thankful for this year, and Grandma mentioned she would be welcome. Do you have a problem with her being at dinner?”
Jack tugged at his shirt collar. “No. Doesn’t affect me either way. Do what you want.”
“Think I will.” Color crept up Jack’s neck.
“So, anyway,” Charlie continued, on thin ice with his brother. “I have an idea for the launch party. What do you say to our holding it at JPH? The book is all about your buildings. It would be the perfect venue.”
“Sure. Fine. Want anybody in my shop involved with the arrangements?”
“Maybe with setting up the room. We’ll take care of the guest list, invitations and arrangements for the party here at my office. All you have to do is show up.”
“If you need any extra help just give Eileen a call. She’ll organize it for you.”
Jack stood and moved along the edge of the table until he reached the end of the row of proofs.
“So. Lizzie approved the proofs. Do I have your approval?” Charlie put a form in front of Jack for his signature.
“Of course, they’re great.” Jack scribbled his name on the paper under Lizzie’s signature and shuffled his feet.
Charlie recognized that body language, too. “Don’t bolt on me yet. We have to go over the food options for the ball. I was looking it over before you arrived. Why does everything have a special sauce and mushrooms? Let’s go to my office and look at the menu.”
“Okay.” Jack took the lead out of the conference room. “Steak and potatoes sound good to me.”
Chapter Fifteen
The buttery, cinnamon-spice smell of two freshly baked pumpkin breads cooling on a wire rack, enticed Lizzie. She stood at her stove, comfortable in an oversized pair of flannel pajamas, and stirred a spoon in a pot of chocolate milk to enjoy while watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on TV.
This was the first year in a long time she had been home for Thanksgiving. She had run away from the holiday every year since her parents died, starting with her years in Guatemala where she could ignore the non-existent holiday there with ease.
For the past few years, Kay had invited her to their family celebration, an invitation that she had always declined due to assignment conflicts. Sometimes she had legitimate work conflicts, and sometimes she had manipulated the truth a bit.
An assignment began tomorrow with a reporter from NewsWorld Magazine to return to Niger. Lizzie had hoped to leave yesterday, but the reporter wanted to be home with his children. Couldn’t blame him, but it left her home alone with her memories.
Kay’s mom had called her the week before to extend this year’s invitation. Again, she fibbed her way out of accepting it, and claimed she would be on a plane headed for Africa. She’d kept the specifics about her departure date vague.
As much as she loved Kay, she had never wanted a substitute family on this day of the year. She might consider next year when the twins celebrate their first Thanksgiving.
Charlie’s call yesterday had her racking up more fibs. He’d asked her to join him, Jack, their father and grandmother at his Thanksgiving table deciding to be a host instead of letting his grandmother cook for the family. Thrilled that Charlie felt strong enough to carry on Mari’s holiday tradition, she had almost accepted, especially when he had remarked, “It might be fun for you because Jack will be here.”
Odd that Charlie let that last sentence hang. Jack. That slow smile, his scorching kisses snuck up on her in daydreams and during her vulnerable nights. But as sisterly as she was with Charlie, there was no way she wanted to be Jack’s little sister at the holiday table. Jack, after all, hadn’t extended the invitation.
On this day of gratitude, she was thankful she’d met Jack. He made her reconsider her opinions of men, in general. He made her forget Wallace almost entirely. But why did he shy away from commitment? What deep dark secrets did he keep locked inside?
She could handle celebrating Thanksgiving alone, instead of pretending it away. Her mother’s treasured recipe for the bread that spiced the air and made her stomach grumble had been dusted off and put to use. A turkey potpie would suffice for the main meal. She’d brave watching the parade, a first since she’d lost her parents. They’d taken her to watch the floats and the gigantic balloons several times as a child. Those happy memories tore her apart.
She had spent the last months telling Charlie to get on with his life and instead of avoiding his traditions with Mari he should treasure them to keep her memory alive. So she’d practice what
she preached to Charlie, watch the parade and enjoy one of her mother’s Thanksgiving recipes.
Hot chocolate poured and a slice of bread on a plate, she settled in front of the TV. Marty secured the spot next to the coffee table, vigilant for any runaway crumbs.
The phone rang several times before she registered the need to get up and answer it.
“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Darla. Who? He is?” She looked down at her flannels in dismay. “Would you mind sending him up? Great. Thanks.”
Damn it. Wallace was here?
Lizzie opened the door as soon as she heard the elevator bell. He walked toward her dragging his feet slightly as if hesitant. He stopped a few feet in front of her open door.
Lizzie stood in the center of the doorframe, blocking it. “Wallace you really should have called first.”
“I was walking around the city. Took a chance that you’d be here. I didn’t want to be alone.” His hands in his coat pockets, he had a dejected expression on his face.
Wallace sounded like he wanted her to do him a favor by spending time with him, a surprising twist.
“What are you doing alone in Chicago? Doesn’t your family have dinner plans?”
“Oh, Mother will be pained because, after all, what will people say? But really, it will just be one, empty chair at the table at the club. I will hardly be missed. Mind if I come in, Elizabeth? Please.” His head tilted, his eyes beseeched her.
“All right.” She stepped aside, let him pass and closed the door. “I was just watching the parade. Give me a minute and I’ll change my clothes.”
“Sure smells good in here.” He shrugged out of his coat and laid it over the back of a chair. “Let’s watch the end of the parade together. I’ll take a slice of that bread and give me some of that hot chocolate, too.” His head nodded toward the pot of chocolate milk on the stove, and he leaned back against the counter in the galley kitchen, making himself at home.
Lizzie prickled at the wait-on-me implication, was about to pour the chocolate in an automatic hostess response when she dropped her hand from the pot handle and whirled on him, “I am not in the mood for this, Wallace. I didn’t invite you here, and you didn’t ask me if you could come. I think you should leave.”
His face pained, “Don’t throw me out, please. I had a depressing week.”
Exasperated, she’d hear him out since she didn’t know what else to do with him. “I’ll bite. What happened?”
“I lost the bid for the building here. I found out yesterday.”
“That’s too bad. Surely there’ll be other projects.”
“I put all my efforts for the last few months into it, and then I’m beaten again by JP Hamilton. The GC building would really have made a difference to my company. Father is very disappointed to say the least.”
Someone mentioned the GC building to her recently. Jack.
“I wanted to win this bid in Chicago for a more personal reason.” He squeezed her hand. “I really wanted to be here often to be closer to you.”
So he could drop in uninvited and have her wait on him? Lizzie freed her hand from his grip. What the hell did Wallace want with her?
What did it matter what he wanted? She didn’t have to settle for Wallace’s scraps of attention. Jack’s memorable kisses and the world of sensations they stirred inside her had opened her eyes to the possibilities. He might not want a lasting relationship with her, but he treated her with consideration, he desired her. She not only didn’t have to settle, she wouldn’t.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be closer to you, Wallace.” Lizzie folded her arms across her chest. “I’d really like you to leave now.”
“What are you saying?” He walked toward her closing the distance and held her by the backs of her arms, as if about to shake her.
Twisting sharply, she broke his hold and backed a few feet away toward the hallway in front of the kitchen leaving him by the stove at the far end of the narrow room. “You left for Europe without a word. I buried my parents without my fiancé at my side. You said you wanted to marry me. Do you have any idea how badly you hurt me?” Her breath came in gasps and her voice rose in fury.
Lizzie spied Marty skulking into the bedroom, tail between her legs.
“I already apologized for my behavior then. You’re the one hurting me now. You and that Jack Clark.” He stood straighter, his hand clutched against his midriff. “JP Hamilton takes great pleasure winning what is rightfully mine.”
“What are you talking about? Who is JP Hamilton?”
“Clark’s architectural firm.” Wallace reared back and forth, laughing. “You didn’t know. Maybe you should dig a little deeper into his motives for romancing you. He’s obviously using you by hiding his relationship with my firm.”
Confused and out of patience, Lizzie faced him, hands on her hips, “I’ve heard enough. I’m over you, Wallace. It’s over. Please leave.”
Gone were the array of benign expressions he’d plied to get in her door, poor forlorn, pained Wallace. Now a red blush rushed up his neck, over his cheeks and already thin lips tightened in a menacing line. She edged away as he rushed forward and pinned her against the wall. Trapped, this new person in front of her scared her.
“I’ll tell you when it’s over. There’s no way Jack Clark is going to have it all.” He yanked her arms over her head and crushed her lips with his.
Smothered, Lizzie fought to breathe, straining her neck muscles to break away from the invasion of his mouth as panic mounted and her heart beat erratically. She brought her knee up with force between his legs. He let her loose and doubled over, clutching himself.
She raced to the door, swung it wide and screamed, “Get out of here!”
Wallace slowly stood and glared at her with eyes that blazed with anger. “How dare you assault me, Elizabeth? It is not over.” The anger in his eyes turned darker as he leered at her. “I will not permit him to use you against me.”
“Get out.” She stayed on the other side of the door in the outer hallway, hoping he wouldn’t notice her shaking. No neighbor had responded to her shout, and she wouldn’t go back into her apartment to attempt a call to security. She clamped her arms tight against her sides, her mind spinning out an exit strategy. If she could race inside the elevator first, she could push the alarm button.
Never taking those malicious eyes off her, he grabbed his coat and stalked forward, past her as if she were invisible.
As soon as he cleared the doorframe, she jumped back into the room and slammed the door shut. Panting, she leaned against the wall, exhausted from fright and confusion.
Wallace’s motives for using her were unclear. And apparently Jack hadn’t been honest either. Were both men setting her up as some sort of prize? No. After all, Charlie had arranged for Jack to go to her reunion with her. Charlie would never play games with her emotions. Would Jack? Why wasn’t he upfront about knowing Wallace?
The telephone rang, and she let the call go to her answer machine. “Happy Thanksgiving, Beth.” Jack’s voice filled the room. She sucked in her breath. “I hope you have a nice day. Charlie tells me you’re heading out tomorrow. I’ll see you when you get back. I’ll be missing you. Travel safe. Bye.”
The tape stopped with a click. “Who are you, Jack Clark? And why should I believe you’ll miss me?”
Chapter Sixteen
Jack missed Lizzie. She had been gone a little over a week, but it seemed longer to him. Everywhere he turned, he found reminders of her. The city streets he used to stride down unaware of his surroundings, now reminded him of walks with her. He wanted to stroll and think about her nestling close to him for warmth.
The number of times he sat back at his drafting table that week and thought of her sweetness surprised him because before meeting Lizzie he had always lost himself in his work.
He concentrated on pushing mental images of her aside. But it didn’t work.
Even during the time-honored male ritual of watching Sunday footbal
l with Charlie, Beth sat beside him in his mind. It didn’t help that his brother never shut up about her. And Jack found that he liked to listen to the superlatives Charlie attached to her.
Without a word about Beth during Jack’s visits, her presence would still be felt in the brownstone. There were pictures of her everywhere.
Charlie’s home was nothing like the musty dungeon it had been a few months ago. He had hired a housekeeper. Polished surfaces and immaculate floors gleamed. Open drapes let in sunlight or moonlight and a lemony smell permeated the air.
Framed photographs abounded in every room downstairs. All of them included Mari and most also included Beth Moran. Jack didn’t remember seeing them on mantels or on the piano when he had visited prior to Mari’s death. But it was a big deal to Jack that Charlie now wanted ever-present reminders of Mari to surround him.
Thank God things had changed. There was even half-decent food to eat while watching Sunday games.
Jack couldn’t banish the memory of Beth’s excitement when he had watched the game with her or the creative insults she concocted for referees and rivals.
After work that day, he stopped by Lou’s for takeout, and Rae spotted him at the counter.
“Hey handsome,” she greeted him. “Where’s your lady? Do you have a minute? I want you to sign something for me.” She hurried, as much as her body would allow, to the back of the store.
Grinning, she thrust an eight by ten glossy into his hand. It was the photo Beth had taken of him and Rae together. “Beth brought this by the store a couple of weeks ago. Isn’t it pretty? You’ve got to sign it for me, and I’m hanging it on the wall here. My manager gave me the OK. You are, after all, a famous architect.”
Jack laughed but took the pen she handed him, when he realized she was serious. “I’ve never been asked for my autograph before.”
He signed his name and handed the print back to her. “It’s the first time, and I’m pretty sure the last time, too.”
Inside the cab on the way home, he thought about Rae’s reference to Beth as his lady. His. Jack didn’t want to wait until the charity ball to see her again. He dialed her home number on his cell phone to leave her a message.
Reunion for the First Time Page 14
