by Peggy Bird
“I see.”
“No, Trace, I don’t think you do see. I need to close out that part of my life. I don’t know yet if it means going back to work in the D.A.’s office. But I do know I have to figure it out. And going to talk with Jeff is the first step.”
“And what about us?”
“Do you think you won’t be an important part of figuring it out? Of course you’ll be. All I’m asking right now is for you to cut me a little slack. I know this isn’t easy for you, but it isn’t easy for me, either. Nothing related to that part of my life has been easy for a long time now.”
“Why can’t you let it go? It’s over, done.” He dropped his hands onto the desk. The expression on his face made her heart ache. He was hurt; he was confused. He was probably still a little angry.
“I want to let it go, believe me. But it won’t let go of me.” She leaned onto the desk. “I don’t know why it matters so much, but it does. It’s like an itch I need to scratch or I’ll go crazy. Please, can you bear with me for a week or two while I sort this out?”
She could see a series of expressions wash over his face. First a frown, then a puzzled look. Finally, a softening of the twitching muscle in his jaw, then a rueful smile. “I’m being a selfish dick, aren’t I, thinking about myself instead of you. My only excuse is the whole thing came out of nowhere and knocked me sideways. Not much different from the way it hit you, I guess. I’m sorry.”
He reached across the desk for her hands. “You have to figure out what you want. Then we’ll go from there. What can I do, other than behave more like someone who wants what’s best for you? Do you want company on the drive up on Wednesday? I have some business in Portland I could do in person rather than by phone and email.”
“Tempting, but I think the time driving up and back will give me a chance to think everything through.”
She got up, walked to the other side of the desk, and kissed him gently. “Will you have dinner with me before Wednesday?”
“Is that code for ‘can I seduce you some night this week?’” he asked as he took her hands again.
“Well, it was an invitation for dinner at my house, but if we ended up in bed, I wouldn’t mind.”
“How about tonight?” He kissed the tips of her fingers. “I missed you this weekend.”
“I missed you, too. I have a light afternoon, so I’ll be home by four. Come when you want.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s the plan.”
• • •
For the rest of the day, Trace was only able to get the basics done. He signed off on the pay records for the month, took all his incoming phone calls, returned calls, and answered emails. But the strategic plan he was working on couldn’t keep his attention for more than a half hour, the speech he was supposed to give at the Chamber luncheon next week, even less. It was the least productive day he’d had since he’d arrived in Ashland.
He couldn’t get out of his head what was now the very real possibility Julie would return to Portland permanently so she could put the ghost of her past to rest. Just when he’d gotten over falling for her so fast and so hard it unnerved him, this had happened. He was on a ledge looking down, wondering how it would feel when he hit the sidewalk.
He knew she’d been devastated by her Portland experience. It shouldn’t have surprised him she wanted to find a way to finally and forever put it behind her. And yet it had. It had knocked him off balance. Badly. She’d been so successful at making herself indispensible to the community here, he’d assumed her experience had been sufficient to fill the hole in her self-confidence. It clearly hadn’t.
He’d thought she’d be content to stay in Ashland with him. But in truth, if he put himself in her place, would he do what he was asking her to do? Probably not. He would want to find a way to get back some of the dignity and sense of worth he’d lost, just as she did.
Understanding the significance of what she was going through, however, didn’t make it any easier for him to accept what he believed would be the outcome of this decision: The woman he loved, yes, loved, dammit, would move almost 300 miles away.
She was asking for time and space to make up her mind. Of course he’d give it to her. And while she thought about a decision capable of changing both their lives, he’d keep his mouth shut and his feelings to himself. If he could.
Chapter 15
Julie planned the dinner menu as carefully as if it were their first date. She got a fresh bottle of the Scotch that Trace liked for Rob Roys, and the merlot he always ordered with red meat. For dinner, she would serve his favorite peppercorn steak, a Caesar salad, bread from the bakery they both liked, and for dessert, chocolate cupcakes from the same place. She didn’t know if she was preparing a peace offering, a thank you, or the last meal she’d ever have with him. Because she wasn’t really sure what the outcome of the evening would be.
In only a few days, she’d swung from expecting a declaration of love from him to considering leaving him so she could return to the rat race of the D.A.’s office. She didn’t exactly know how it had happened. And if she couldn’t figure it out, how the hell could she expect Trace to understand? He’d put a good face on it today in his office. But how would it be tonight? It was hard to believe it would be smooth and easy. There would be an elephant the size of … well, the size of an elephant … in the room with them. Even the best sex in the world, which she knew they were capable of having, wouldn’t move the elephant back out into its natural habitat.
As much as she wanted to reassure him she’d turn the job down if it were offered to her, she wasn’t sure she would; not sure she could. Until she’d talked to Margo at the theater, she hadn’t realized how much the humiliation still stung. What was worse, she didn’t know exactly what taking a job back in the D.A.’s office would get her. Vindication? Maybe. The chance to make amends? Could be. The opportunity to restore her professional reputation with her former colleagues to some level of respect unsullied by what had happened? Possibly.
She was still mulling it all over when the doorbell rang. After the usual “hello, beautiful” and a casual kiss, Trace mixed a pitcher of Rob Roys, and they went into the living room. A silence more awkward than the first time he was in her house ensued.
“How was …?” she began, as he said, “So, what did …?”
After a nervous laugh, she said, “We don’t usually discuss the hacking issue but maybe tonight it would be a good idea to break our rule. It’s a safe subject, at least.”
He nodded. “There’s really not much to report. The IT department in Portland has finished investigating every other branch to see if anything similar has happened. They came up dry. The problem is confined to Ashland. IT is looking at other possibilities now.”
Julie looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “I wonder. The intellectual property thefts, the ones my … uh, boyfriend … acquaintance … whatever … was involved with, they weren’t always done by hacking into computer systems, although some were.”
“If not by hacking, how was the information stolen?”
“It was transferred to flash drives, CDs, external hard drives. Laptops were stolen. It seems there’s an endless number of ways to access supposedly inaccessible information.”
“Why wouldn’t our IT guys think of that?”
“Maybe they have. Or maybe they’ve been so pressured to find out how the system was hacked, they haven’t had a chance to look at anything else.”
“I guess.” He drained his glass. “I’ll ask the head of IT. He wants to talk to me at the end of the week. I assume to give me a report on what he’s found—or not found, as the case may be. I’ll pass along what you suggested, and I’ll let you know what he has to say.”
The subject exhausted, the conversation ground to a halt again.
She got up from the couch. “Maybe I better go put the finishing touches on dinner. It should only take me about fifteen minutes.”
“No hurry.”
• • •
/> No hurry indeed. Trace was happy for the break. He needed time to collect himself before they sat down for dinner, when the conversation was sure to die again. Last week they’d had so many things to talk about, they couldn’t stop. Tonight, when they’d tried to talk about something other than the business they had to deal with, the strain between them was only too obvious.
Maybe seeing her tonight hadn’t been such a good idea after all. He’d hoped a quiet evening would get them back into the close relationship they’d established. But it didn’t seem to be working. The whole job thing stood in the way of everything—making plans for the next month, the next week, hell, the next day. Everything he could think to bring up would hinge on what her plans were when—he was sure it wasn’t if—she was offered the damn job.
He wanted to go with her to Portland, to have her undivided attention while they drove up and down I-5 so he could lobby her. Yes, it felt like he was lobbying an elected official. He’d done some of it in his career and was pretty good at it. He’d presented his best case for the action he’d wanted, highlighted what was in it for the official, and answered questions. When he had been lucky, they had paid attention to the merits. When he hadn’t been, they had referred him to their campaign manager and waited to see what he had contributed.
She didn’t need a campaign contribution, so that was out. Unfortunately. Which left him with only the option of convincing her of the merits of his arguments. Which he’d been unsuccessful at thus far.
Going back to Portland was the wrong decision for her, he knew. Or thought he knew. Maybe it was only the wrong decision for him. Was it really fair of him to try and talk her out of what she needed to get past what had happened? After all, he wasn’t the one who felt humiliated by a misjudgment. She was. He knew if he were a better person, he’d let her go if she needed to go. But he wasn’t sure he was that good a person.
He checked out the pitcher in the ice bucket and, when he saw there was quite a bit of the cocktail left, poured it all into his glass. The Rob Roy didn’t have a chance to lose one degree of chill from the pitcher before he had it half gone. Luckily, he’d walked from his house to hers. Because at the rate he was going, he would be too impaired to drive.
But instead of clouding his thoughts, the alcohol seemed to clear them. There really was only one thing he could do. He had to tell her what it was before he left tonight.
• • •
An hour later, dinner was gone, a bottle of wine almost finished, coffee poured, and the silence back. They’d avoided eye contact during the meal and talked only about the food. Trace had no idea he could say, “Nice dinner,” in so many different ways.
The time had come to ’fess up. He looked across the table at her, cleared his throat, and said, “Look,” as she said the same thing.
“Ladies first,” he said.
“I didn’t think this would be so awkward tonight. I’m sorry,” she began. “It’s all my fault for being so up in the air about Portland.”
“No,” he said. “It’s my fault for being clueless about what it meant to you.”
“So, now we fight to see who’s the most sorry?” She finally smiled for the first time all evening.
“I don’t want to fight about anything. So, I’ve been thinking …” He stopped, played with the empty coffee cup, then looked her squarely in the eye. “I think we should stay out of each other’s way for the next few days.”
“You mean break up?”
He heard the squeak in her voice that meant she was afraid. “No, no. Not break up. Just not hang out together. I thought we could patch things up tonight; have dinner, be like we were. But talking to each other has been harder than it was the first time I came here.”
“I know, but maybe if we …”
“Do what, beautiful? Spend more evenings like tonight?”
“It hasn’t been the best evening together, I’ll grant you.”
“We can’t make plans until you make up your mind about what you want to do. I can’t seem to stop wanting to lock you in a room to keep you from going to Portland.” He shook his head. “And the other thing I can’t seem to do is keep from saying things like that.”
From the shiny eyes looking back at him, he knew she was close to crying. “Please don’t cry, Juliet. I don’t want to make you cry. But I don’t see how it’s going to be any better than it’s been tonight until we know what you’re going to do.”
“So, no weekend together?”
“Do you think it’ll be any better than tonight was?”
Now the tears were running down her face. He went to her and pulled her up from the chair. Holding her, kissing her hair, he made comforting noises until she stopped crying.
She picked up the napkin and wiped her face. “I gather you don’t think a long distance relationship would work.”
“I don’t know if we’re far enough into this to make it work.”
“I know a couple; one of them is a city attorney in Oregon, the other one got a job about three years ago in Seattle. They make it work.”
He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaned up the raccoon eyes she’d gotten from smeared mascara as he asked, “Are they married?”
“Uh-huh. For five years.”
“See, that I can understand. You build a good relationship over time and nothing can tear it apart. But we’ve only had months, not years.”
She sighed. “I don’t know what to say except I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work out between us.”
“I want to do that, too. But I need a breather so I can get prepared for whatever you’re going to do.”
“I guess this means you’re not staying tonight.”
He kissed her cheek. “I don’t think so. I have an early breakfast meeting tomorrow and probably wouldn’t have stayed anyway.”
“Does this mean I won’t see you at all? Talk to you?”
“I don’t know what it means. I’ll probably miss you so damn much I’ll cave tomorrow.”
“I hope so.”
Chapter 16
In spite of Julie’s hopes, Trace didn’t cave after their Monday night dinner and ask to see her, although he did call on Wednesday to wish her a safe trip. The conversation was brief and a little reserved, much as the conversation at dinner had been. On Thursday she left for Portland with a Trace-size hole in her life she couldn’t do anything about filling.
Her determination to use the time it took to drive to Portland to sort out what she’d do if the job were offered to her was thwarted. Idiots driving their vehicles too fast for the wet roads, and triple-trailer trucks boxing her in while trying to pass one another, made it impossible to do anything but pay strict attention to her driving. She arrived at the Marriott no more set on a decision than she’d been when she’d left Ashland.
The next morning she left the hotel early, making her way to the Bijou Café, enjoying being back in the city again. She’d always appreciated Portland’s quirkiness. The town was a gracious, if somewhat weird, old lady among cities. Julie wondered what it would be like to return. Would she quickly settle back into urban rhythms, or would she miss the small-town life of Ashland? It was yet another question for her to think about.
She was early for their meeting, but Jeff Wyatt had gotten there even earlier, if the evidence of a Wall Street Journal in pieces on the table and a half-empty cup of coffee in front of him were to be believed. He rose when she approached the table and extended his hand.
“Greer … sorry … Julie, good to see you.”
“Thanks, Jeff. It’s good to see you, too. It’s good to be back in Portland again.”
“You look well. Happy. Relaxed. Your time in Ashland has agreed with you.”
“It’s been a good year. Very good.” Dear God, what’s with the “goods?” I’m supposed to be good with words … oh, fuck. Is it possible to be any more nervous? No, probably not.
The server appeared and asked if they were ready to order. Julie asked for her favorite
with no need to look at the menu—a cheese omelet, OJ, and coffee. Once Jeff had ordered, he leaned onto the table and asked, “So, tell me about your practice.”
She told him about the business clients she’d served, the couple of scammers preying on seniors she’d gotten information on so the D.A. could prosecute, and the bank fraud clients. As she went on, she heard the pride in her voice about what she’d accomplished, felt the satisfaction she got from helping her clients. Her practice had become that important to her.
“You sound as if you really like it. I’m surprised. You always relished going to court to beat on the bad guys.”
The server interrupted with their breakfasts. When he left, Julie responded. “Yes, I did like going to court. And I’ve done very little of it—really none at all—since I’ve been in Ashland. I miss it sometimes.”
“Margo tells me you have a new man in your life.”
“Yeah, I met him the first day he was in town, when I went to his office to tell him I was going to sue him.” The real circumstances under which she’d met Trace made a better story but it wasn’t one she planned to share with too many people. Jeff Wyatt certainly didn’t make the cut for that list.
He laughed. “There’s the Greer I know. Even if she is Julie these days.”
“It’s not the way most relationships begin, but it seems to have worked for us.”
“From the sound of your voice when you talk about it, you’re happy with your practice. You have a new boyfriend. You’ve liked living in Ashland. So, why are you sitting across the table from me in Portland talking about an opening in my office?”
Momentarily stunned, Julie took a few seconds to recover. “You asked to see me.”
“And you didn’t say ‘no, thanks’ when I asked,” he said softly. “I’m wondering why.”
There, in a nutshell, was what made Jeff so good at what he did. Damn, there was that word again.
“I didn’t think it would hurt to see what my options were. Maybe you’ll make me an offer I can’t refuse.”
