Unmasking Love: A Holiday for Romance

by Peggy Bird

  Margo Keyes, a deputy D.A. in Portland and one of the only people who had supported her in the aftermath of the scandal, was standing five feet away. Margo’s husband, his Portland Police Bureau colleague, and the colleague’s wife, were twenty feet away. All four of them were staring at Julie with surprised looks on their faces.

  Her former associate hugged her. “It’s good to see you,” Margo said. “Did you come up from California for the plays?”

  “Not exactly. I live in Ashland.” Before Margo could react, Julie said, “Margo, this is Trace Watkins. Trace, Margo Keyes.”

  The two acknowledged the introduction, but Margo immediately returned to the first statement. “You live here? I thought you moved to California. No wonder no one has been able to find you.”

  “Long story.” Julie didn’t feel like going into how she’d landed here in her new hometown, and she wasn’t going to bite on the last sentence either. Anyone from Portland looking for her would most likely be trying to find a way to further humiliate her.

  “You’re not with the Jackson County D.A.’s office, are you? No, I guess I can answer my own question. We’d have known if you were.”

  “I’m in private practice.”

  When the announcement came that the doors were open for the audience to move into the theater, Julie said, “Looks like it’s time to take our seats. You’d better get back to your husband. Enjoy the play.”

  Margo seemed to want to continue the conversation but didn’t argue. “Maybe we could have a drink afterwards? Catch up? There’s something I think you should know …”

  “Sorry. We have plans.”

  “Oh, well, then … Anyway, it was good to see you.” Margo hugged her again. Julie didn’t hug back.

  When Margo had gone back to her husband and friends, Trace said, “Brrr. It’s gonna take me a few minutes to defrost here. The ice queen is back.” He shivered and brushed off his arms, as if to remove snow.

  “Was I so bad?”

  “Beautiful, you could have frozen Ashland Creek solid.”

  “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “Yes, you did. Who is she anyway?”

  Julie explained.

  “I’ve never heard you mention her before. Not a close friend then?”

  “Not close, no. But she was a friend, I guess. Really more of a colleague.”

  “Obviously, you haven’t been in touch since you left Portland, or she would have known you were here. She caught you off balance. Is that why you were so cool?”

  “Or maybe it was being called Greer. It’s been a long time.”

  “Do you think it might have been a good idea to agree to a drink? For old times’ sake?”

  “I don’t know what we have to catch up on, and I really don’t think I care to have them know what I’m doing now.”

  She hoped the expression on her face told him the subject was closed.

  In spite of being seated on the opposite side of the theater from the Portlanders, to Julie, the foursome seemed to be in a spotlight with an imaginary neon arrow flashing “here be dragons.” Or something. She was aware of every move one of them made, every glance over at her, every laugh, every rustle of a program. Luckily the lights went down, the first act began, and she lost herself in the play.

  Then came the intermission.

  Excusing herself, she went downstairs and got in the long line outside the ladies’ room. As she shuffled ahead, foot by foot, she wondered how she was going to avoid Margo and her cohort at the end of the play. Maybe she and Trace could go out the handicap access door, which opened onto the brick courtyard shared by the two major theaters. Then all they’d have to do would be …

  “Greer, good. I have a chance to talk to you.” She turned to the woman behind Julie. “Mind if I stand in line with my friend? I don’t want to use the ladies’ room, just talk with her.”

  It was Margo, and Julie did mind. But she couldn’t bring herself to say so. Neither did the woman behind Julie.

  “I don’t use my middle name anymore, Margo. I’m Julie here.”

  “Julie, huh? You don’t seem like a Julie to me. But then, I always knew you as Greer. Anyway, Gr … ah, Julie … I’m glad to see you again. You look happy. And I can understand part of it by looking at the guy you’re with. Who is he?”

  “He’s the manager of the Northwest Savings and Loan here.”

  “Is it serious? It looks like it is.”

  “I guess.” Julie lifted her chin and snapped out, “Why this interest in someone I’m with, Margo? You’ve never cared this much before. What exactly is it you’re dancing around?”

  Margo’s eyes shifted to the side, and her slight shoulder shrug said how embarrassed she was to be caught. “I shouldn’t have tried to be sneaky. You always were good at reading a witness.”

  If I’d been that good, I’d have figured out Paul Dreier, wouldn’t I? You’re up to something, and you think flattering me will get it.

  As if reading her thoughts, Margo said, “You’re right. There is something I want to talk about with you. It’s about the office.”

  “Don’t waste your breath or my time. I don’t want to talk about it now or ever.”

  “Please, let me explain.” Margo lowered her voice. “I don’t want to embarrass or upset you, but I think you should know you’re missed.”

  Julie snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, right. Like a case of shingles would be missed.”

  “I’m serious. No one in the office has your knowledge and ability with fraud cases. Because of that, we’ve had a hard time with a couple prosecutions recently. It’s clear we need someone with your skill set. Jeff’s been looking for you. He wants to talk to you.”

  More flattery? Maybe not. It was true the fraud cases had always been hers to prosecute because she’d done it well. Even now, it was still what she liked doing. And the D.A. was trying to find her? To talk about what?

  Margo answered both questions before Julie could ask them. “There’s an opening in the office, and for a change, we have enough money in the budget to fill it. Jeff’s been trying to track you down to see if you’d be interested. Well, I guess more accurately, to see if he could persuade you to be interested.”

  “In going back to Portland?” She couldn’t hide the shock she felt at Margo’s suggestion.

  “I understand you probably don’t have a lot of fond memories of the office. But what happened two years ago is water under the bridge, over the dam, wherever water goes in clichés. What happened is old news. People appreciate what you brought to the party. Would you give it some thought?”

  “I doubt it. But thanks.” Julie was at the head of the line and relieved the uncomfortable conversation would soon be over.

  “At least can I tell Jeff where you are so he can contact you himself and talk to you?”

  “I can’t keep him from finding me now that you know where I am.” Julie scuttled into the empty stall without saying goodbye and locked the door. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. They wanted her back. At least so Margo said. It was hard to believe, after what had happened and how she’d been treated.

  After she finished in the ladies room, Julie took some time to compose herself before she returned to her seat. The conversation with Margo must have still shown, however, because Trace said, “You were gone a long time. And you look stressed. Something happen?”

  She almost told him, but brushed it off, “Long line, as usual.” She’d think about it and tell him after the play.

  • • •

  “You’re quiet. Not too impressed with the production? I thought they did a great job,” Trace said as they walked back to her house after the play.

  “No, I liked it fine. It’s just …” She wasn’t sure how he was going to react to this, so she wanted to be careful how she told him about the conversation with Margo. “When I was in line for the ladies’ room, Margo joined me.”

  “Margo? The woman you used to work with? Did she ask you to have drinks aga
in?”

  “Not exactly. She asked me if I’d be interested in applying for a job with the D.A.’s office back in Portland.”

  “How did she take it when you said no?”

  “I didn’t exactly say no.”

  His head snapped so fast to look at her, she thought he was courting whiplash. “Why the hell not? You’d never consider going back to Portland.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I would.”

  “Seriously? After what you’ve told me about how you were treated? I can’t believe it.”

  “I couldn’t believe my reaction myself. But something inside my head kept jumping up and down saying, ‘yes, now they see how good you are.’ It would be a chance to show what a valuable asset I was, not some fuck-up.”

  “You’ve proved yourself time and time again here. Haven’t you moved beyond needing to prove yourself to them?”

  “I thought I had. I guess I haven’t.”

  He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. They were between streetlights, so his face was in shadow, and she couldn’t read his expression, but the tone of his voice made it obvious he wasn’t happy. “And what about us? I was hoping we had a future together.”

  “I hope we do, too.”

  “How’re we going to make a future work when you’re at one end of the state and I’m at the other?”

  “You wouldn’t consider moving back to Portland, then?”

  “And do what? I can’t pack up and leave the job I’ve been in for less than a year. Not after I lobbied to get it. I can’t believe you’re seriously asking me to do that so you can show people you haven’t seen or heard from in over a year how right you were. That’s not what the Juliet I know would ask. At least, I didn’t think so.”

  Not sure what to say, she started walking slowly again, waiting for him to catch up. It took him a moment or two to start. When he was beside her again, she reached for his hand. He didn’t push her away but he certainly didn’t give her hand an affectionate squeeze, as he usually did.

  “You’re angry with me.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m angry. I’m surprised. Maybe disappointed. Okay, maybe a little angry.” He dropped her hand and ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus, Juliet, what did you expect I’d do? Jump up and down at the prospect of losing you to a job you said caused you so much embarrassment and regret that you ran away from it? Even if I got past that, how the hell do you think we’ll carry on a relationship when you’re in a life-sucking job in Portland and I’m in a pretty intense job five hours away in Ashland?”

  “If we wanted to make it work, we could.”

  “How? With once-a-month conjugal visits in a motel in Cottage Grove? Meeting halfway between Portland and Ashland for sex and dinner isn’t what I had in mind for our future. Is that what you’d settle for?”

  “You’re making this into something huge long before I’ve even decided what I’m going to do about it.”

  “Oh, you’ve decided, all right. You decided the minute you didn’t tell her there was no way in hell you’d ever consider going back to Portland. That you have a good life here.”

  By this time, they’d reached her house. She started up the steps to her porch, but Trace hesitated. “You’re not coming in tonight, are you?” she said, although she knew the answer already.

  After a long pause, he said, “No, I think we both need to think this through. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can talk.”

  If she’d hoped for a change of heart or a backward glance, he disappointed her.

  His words weighed on her like a sixty-pound pack as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. A few tears fell as she undressed for bed. More made their way down her face as she brushed her teeth. Once in bed, all she could see was the shocked look on his face when she’d told him she hadn’t immediately rejected Margo’s idea.

  She and Trace had disagreed a few times about where to go for dinner or which movie to see, but they’d never had a serious argument. Well, assuming you didn’t count the night he’d come to her house with her Juliet mask and she had thought he was trying to pull something sneaky. But this was worse. It was the first weekend since they’d begun seeing each other that she’d be alone. The first weekend they wouldn’t fall asleep in each other’s arms after making love. The first weekend without kisses and laughter and the feeling she was cared for. And not at all the way she’d expected to celebrate her birthday.

  All because Margo Keyes had come to Ashland. If Margo had stayed home, no one in Portland would know where Julie was, and she’d be going on with her new life in Ashland as she had for over a year. But Margo had wanted to see a play, and everything had changed.

  Chapter 14

  Trace and Julie didn’t talk on Sunday. He called and left a voice mail while she was out running. She didn’t call back, not sure what there was to say until she knew what she was going to do about Portland. And she hadn’t decided.

  On Monday she got a call, but it wasn’t from Trace.

  Heather passed her a note as Julie was winding up a conference call. The note read, “There’s a caller on line one who’s very insistent.”

  Julie scribbled, “Take a message.”

  Heather wrote back, “He says he’ll wait.”

  Julie gave her a questioning look and mouthed, “Name?”

  “Jeff Wyatt,” Heather wrote.

  Julie’s blood pressure spiked. She signaled she’d be finished in five minutes. Heather nodded and left.

  In even less time, Julie was off her call and trying to calm her pounding heartbeat before she talked to Jeff. When she was as settled as she could be, she took the call.

  “Hi, Jeff, sorry to keep you waiting. I was on a conference call.”

  “Your paralegal told me. Not to worry, Greer … uh … sorry, Margo says you’re using your first name now. But I’ve forgotten what it is.”

  “It’s Juliet—Julie around here. What can I do for you?”

  “I think you already know. Margo told you we need someone with your abilities in the office, and I thought why look for a copy if we can have the original?”

  “Why would you consider me when you told me what I’d done was a career-limiting move?”

  “In the short run. I said it was career-limiting in the short run.”

  “I don’t remember that part.”

  “Well, I do. The important point is, it’s not the short run now, and there’s a place for you here. Listen, I know how tough it was for you after Dreier was arrested. I even understand why you felt you had to leave. But now you’ve had your sabbatical. It’s time to get back in the game. Is a solo practice in a small town drawing up wills really enough for you?”

  Choosing her words carefully she said, “I have a rewarding practice here. It’s not as boring as you make it sound. I’m busy and doing positive, helpful work.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you are. But you were one of my best deputies in court, and I’m betting you don’t have much court time in Ashland.”

  He’d found her weak spot, and he knew it. She’d loved nothing more than going to court and winning. Which she almost always had.

  “Would you consider coming up to Portland and talking to me in person?” he asked. After a second or two, when she didn’t answer, he added, “Please?”

  Julie had never heard Jeff say please in such a beseeching tone. Actually she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him say please at all.

  She didn’t answer right away. Memories of how humiliated she’d been, the questions from the Portland police, the embarrassing interviews with the FBI, all came back in force. The expressions on the faces of the colleagues who wouldn’t meet her eyes when she returned from those sessions were burned into her memory. As were the details of the cases she’d been working on that had been suddenly reassigned to other people.

  Mostly she remembered the session she’d had with the man at the other end of this phone call about what to expect because of her association with someone who�
��d be spending much of the rest of his life in prison.

  But now that same person was coming to her, wanting her to return. There was enough of the old Greer left in the new Julie to gloat a little bit. And be tempted.

  Finally she replied, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk to you about it. When would you like me to come up to Portland?”

  “Later this week, maybe? Let me look at my calendar.” There was the sound of papers shuffling. “I’m pretty open on Thursday morning if it works for you. Maybe you could spend the weekend, see some friends.”

  “I’ll come up on Wednesday night and see you Thursday morning. I’ll drive back right afterwards. I have plans for the weekend.” I hope.

  “Then let’s make it breakfast at seven so you can get back to Ashland before it’s dark. You remember how to find the Bijou?”

  “I’m sure it’ll come back to me.”

  “See you on Thursday. And thanks, Gr … uh … Julie.”

  She hung up wondering how she was going to tell Trace.

  • • •

  Deciding it was better to confront him at work, where there’d be no chance he’d lose it in front of his employees, she went to the bank right after lunch. He ushered her into his office and closed the door. He looked wary, as if unsure of what she would say.

  “I was worried when you didn’t call back yesterday.” He directed her to a chair on one side of his desk and returned to his seat on the other.

  “I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t call.”

  He cocked his head and squinted one eye. “But somehow, now you know what to say?”

  “Yes. At least, I know what to say about what I’m going to do in the short run.” In a soft but determined voice she said, “I’m going to Portland on Wednesday for a Thursday morning breakfast with Jeff Wyatt, the D.A. He called this morning and asked me to come talk to him.”

  Trace leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers, and put the tips of them up against his nose. The effect was to hide much of his expression from her, although she could still see his eyes, and they didn’t look happy.