by Ginny Baird
People like Richard could come on board. Folks with skills—like Richard had with carpentry. Wellington International would pay these workers salaries, as they organized community efforts for the homeless…shut-ins, others in need… The pilot operation could begin in Savannah, then who knew where it could lead. Eventually, Heath could position a charitable arm in every location where there were Wellington banks. That way, it would be easy to transfer and reassign displaced workers, without any of them needing to relocate. The new ventures could be funded from a portion of the proceeds from any new acquisitions.
Heath’s blood pumped harder as the ideas began formulating in his mind. He pressed his intercom button and called for Kristin. “Mind coming in here to take some notes?”
“Sure, boss,” she answered cheerily. “What are you planning?”
“How about changing the world?”
Chapter Seventeen
The following week, Tara was surprised to get a call from her dad asking her to meet him for coffee. He rarely took a break from the bank unless it was important. It wasn’t even lunchtime, just after ten thirty, and Tara’s workday had barely gotten started. She left Jeannie in charge of the shop, and asked Jeannie to give her regards to their regular Wednesday customer if Tara wasn’t back in time to greet her. She entered the Moosejaw Mudhouse on Main Street, and spotted Richard sitting at a small table by himself.
Tara unwrapped her scarf and pulled off her gloves, taking a seat beside him. His brow was furrowed and his mouth creased in a frown. Tara reached out and gently touched his shoulder. “Dad? What’s wrong?”
A swath of silvery hair swung forward as he ducked his chin. “I’ve been let go.”
“Let go?” Tara couldn’t imagine it. Hadn’t he just been promoted at the end of last month? “I’m not sure I understand,” she said. “Has something happened?”
Richard looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “Yeah, something’s happened,” he barked harshly. “Wellington International’s what happened.”
“What?”
He tightened his fingers around his paper coffee cup. “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend about it?”
“Heath?” she asked, confounded. “But, what…?” Suddenly, Tara recalled how preoccupied he’d been, and how he’d said it had to do with bank business. Had Heath known about this in advance? Was he directly responsible for her father losing his job? She asked because she had to know. “North Shore Central’s closing?”
“Being taken over by big business.” Her dad sneered. “Just as I suspected all along. Can’t trust ’em as far as you can throw ’em. And that includes that big-city beau of yours.”
Tara swallowed hard, unwilling to believe it. “Why would they promote you if that’s the case?”
Richard pursed his lips before answering. “One of their little tricks, I guess.” He slowly shook his head. “Only management’s getting the shaft. We’re being replaced by the Wellington team. The tellers, customer service reps, and admin folks are safe.”
Tara sucked in a gasp. “You mean, if you hadn’t been promoted—?”
“That’s right,” her dad said harshly. “I would have stayed. Not that I would have necessarily wanted to, given the unsavory nature of the takeover. Nobody heard anything about it until just this morning.”
“Why today?”
“Folks are getting their two weeks’ notice.”
Tara ran the calculation in her head. “Two weeks before Christmas?” she asked in horror. “You can’t mean it. Whose decision was this?”
“Probably a joint one,” Richard said. “Or, maybe it’s all on Wellington’s head.” He shrugged despairingly. “Who knows?”
Tara sagged in her chair, feeling the sting of moisture in her eyes. Had Heath really known this was coming, yet kept his mouth shut? Where was his sense of decency? Of charity? “I’m so sorry, Dad—”
She leaned toward him, but he gruffly nudged her away. “Not here. We’re in public.”
She eyed him sadly, her heart breaking for him.
“Going to keep my head held high,” he continued. “I’ve already told my friends about my upgrade, and I’m not backing down on any of it. I’ll stick with the new position until the bitter end. Which will come sooner rather than later,” he added grimly.
“What will you do?” Tara asked, her voice cracking. Her dad was still in his fifties with lots of working years left, but job pickings were slim in this part of Maine. He’d been lucky to hold onto the position he’d had for so many years.
“I’ll think of something,” Richard replied, sounding totally unconvincing.
The shock and despair inside Tara began to turn into something else: hurt, anger…a sense of betrayal. Heath had to have known. He was the top man at Wellington International. He was bound to have to approve all the takeovers. What a fool she’d been, believing he was different. Thinking he was trustworthy and kind.
“We’ll get through it. Somehow. Together.” She reached for her dad’s hand, but he pulled it away.
“And you and Heath?” he asked hoarsely. “Now, what’s going to happen there?”
****
Tara had trouble focusing on her job for the rest of the day. When she told Jeannie what had happened, Jeannie couldn’t believe it.
“He sounded like such a nice guy,” she said with a frown.
“I know…” Tara’s voice trembled, so she turned toward the register to disguise her quaking lower lip. Thankfully, they were experiencing a lull and no one else was in the shop. While Tara was always grateful for business, she couldn’t have one of her customers see her fall apart, and she felt like she was about to at any minute.
When books sales had dropped off in October, at least she’d had her new love affair to distract her. When she’d been with Heath, anything had seemed possible. Restoring her business to top form…falling in love with a Savannah banker…building a bright future. Now, her lofty hopes and dreams had suddenly crashed and burned.
“How were November sales?” she asked Jeannie, looking for some good news to lift her spirits. Jeannie had been compiling the numbers for the past week and was supposed to be done this morning.
“I’m afraid not any better than October’s, Tara.” Jeannie’s gray eyes glistened. “You know, I’ve been thinking…with our receipts being what they have been…maybe having two people working here full-time is too much of a stretch?”
Tara gaped at her. “Jeannie, no.”
“I mean it, Tara,” she said kindly. “I’ve already spoken with Dave. With us getting married in the spring, I could go part-time. We’ve been talking about starting a family right away, anyhow.”
Tara clasped her hand. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Once there’s a baby coming, you might find you really need the hours. Children are expensive, and—”
“Tara,” Jeannie said solemnly. “Just let me help you out a little. At least, say that you’ll think it over.”
If Tara was low before, she felt even more abysmal now. Her dad had been sacked, her boyfriend had betrayed her, the bookshop was failing, and she was about to cause her best friend on earth to partially lose her job. “You really are amazing,” she said, hugging Jeannie tightly.
Jeannie returned her fierce hug then patted her back. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”
“Sure,” Tara said, though she couldn’t in a million years see how.
****
By the time Heath called at eight o’clock, Tara had reached a boiling point. She’d gone from hurt to confused to dismayed—then furious, all in the course of one day. And, the emotions kept circling back around on themselves. Heath had texted when she was closing her shop to ask about calling later. When she hadn’t replied, he must have assumed she’d simply never seen the text. She’d seen it all right, and had decided against issuing a few choice words in return. Those were better reserved for the telephone. For Tara had no intention of seeing Heath in person—ever again.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he
began in a cheerful tone.
“Not great.”
“I’m sorry, Tara.” She couldn’t believe he had the nerve to sound sympathetic. “Bad day at the bookshop?”
“Bad day all around,” she said flatly.
He hesitated a moment before asking, “Want to talk about it?”
She drew in a deep breath and released it, gathering her courage. “Not especially, but I will.”
He waited in stunned silence while Tara sat weightily on the futon. At length, she questioned, “How long, Heath? How long have you known?” She hated to find her voice rising with emotion.
“About…?
She bit out the words. “North Shore Central.”
“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” he asked worriedly. “Your dad, Richard—?”
“He was fired today,” she rushed in heatedly. “But you probably already knew that.” She paused and gaped at the receiver. “Maybe you even arranged it.”
“Tara, no… I would never—”
“Would never what, Heath?” she balked. “Lie to the woman you love? Deceive her father? The man who welcomed you into his home?”
“If you’d just slow down and let me explain—”
“You had to have known before then,” she charged. “Before you came to Maine.” Tara choked back a sob, thinking what a reckless fool she’d been. She thought she’d guarded her heart until precisely the right moment. Now, she saw her judgment in that department had failed miserably. “Did you?” she asked, her world tearing apart. “Did you, Heath? Did you know what was going to happen with North Shore Central…before you came here for Thanksgiving?” And said you that loved me and took me to bed? The notion was almost too painful to bear.
“I…well…yes, I did know about the North Shore Central acquisition, it’s true.” Zing. There it was: a red-hot flaming arrow straight through her heart. Tara clutched her free hand to her chest, her gut searing, as tears burned down her cheeks. “But Tara, it was so long ago. I mean, the deal was cut months before you and I met.”
“But it was still on the table.”
“Yeah, but I’d completely forgotten about it, to tell you the truth—”
“That’s a fine turn of phrase for a man who wouldn’t recognize the truth if he saw it.”
“Careful, Tara. You’re upset. You don’t really know what you’re saying.”
Tara sniffed, roiling from his hurt and deception. “Don’t I?”
“No, because you’ve yet to hear me out. If you’d only let me explain—”
“Will your explanation get my dad his job back?”
“At North Shore Central? No, probably not. But, I—”
“Then, I can’t see what’s left to discuss.”
“How about us?” he asked hoarsely. “I was calling to ask about my plane tickets, and seeing you in mid-December?”
“I don’t think that’s such a hot idea.”
“Okay, then. We can wait a while. Let things cool off first. You don’t have to come to Savannah for Christmas. I’ll come there—to you.” His voice faltered unsurely. “If you’ll have me?”
“And what kind of holiday do you imagine that would be?”
“I was hoping…” His voice shook noticeably. “…a white one?”
“Heath, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t going to work.”
“But it can work! You don’t understand. I’ve been doing everything in my power…trying like crazy to find a solution. And, I have!”
“Well, I’m afraid it’s a little too late.” Heath may have found a way to mend her tattered heart, but then he’d broken it apart again into a million tiny pieces. Tara’s voice warbled, the words catching in her throat. “I’m done with your solutions, Heath…and love…and stupid messages in a bottle.”
“You don’t mean it,” he said, pleading. “You’re not done with us?”
Tara couldn’t see another way around it. Heath had broken her trust, and was ultimately responsible for causing her dad misery. How could she ever feel the same way about him? Tara couldn’t believe she’d misread him so badly. In so doing, she’d made everything about her life worse.
She would have been so much better off if she’d never responded to his e-mail in the first place. But, she had, and now the only thing left to do in order to preserve her dignity—and her dad’s—was cut things off. Tara had always believed herself strong and capable. But, even for her, this was too much. Her words broke apart as she said her farewell, stammering past her heartache.
“Goodbye, Heath. Have a…really nice…Christmas…in Savannah.”
Then Tara clicked off her phone and cried her eyes out, her wails competing with the winds slamming the outside of her old barn building. She never should have been so trusting; she might have known. No good things come from taking chances. Rather than improve her life, she’d totaled it completely.
Tara felt very, very small and terribly cold, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She drew her knees up to her chest and wept some more, sobbing in fits and starts until her lungs heaved from the effort.
Tomorrow, she would do better. She’d pull herself together and devise some sort of plan, maybe a way to help her dad and save her bookshop. But tonight, she was way too overwhelmed and weary to consider it. All Tara wanted to do was curl into a ball and will the rest of the world away. Far, far away… And the place she wanted the most distance from was Savannah, Georgia.
Chapter Eighteen
“I’m sorry, man,” Byron said as they sat at the corner bar. “What are you going to do?”
Heath set his mug of beer down on the counter. “I thought I had a game plan, but she shot it down without even listening to me.”
“You going to spend Christmas in Charlotte with your folks?”
“Nope. I think I’ll just stick around here and take strolls down Tybee Beach.”
“Now, that’s maudlin.”
“I’m thinking of putting in a petition to rename it.” He quirked a sad smile Byron’s way. “Heartbreak Shores, what do you think?”
“It will never fly.”
“I hear Caroline’s getting married.”
“What? Already?” Byron blinked in shock. “To Will?”
“That’s the word on the street.”
“Which street?”
“Caroline’s dog walker and my assistant, Kristin, are friends.”
Byron shook his head. “Ouch. Talk about moving on.”
“Yeah well, I did too.” Heath pensively sipped from his beer. “I mean, I thought I had.”
“I know. Sara and I believed you. She was already placing bets on the date of your wedding.”
“My wedding?” Heath asked, surprised.
“She said you had the look.” Byron raised both eyebrows. “The look of a man in love.”
Heath heaved a sigh. “Well, maybe I was.”
“I wouldn’t go putting anything in the past tense,” Byron cautioned.
“I hardly see the difference semantics make.”
“It’s all about attitude, Heath.” Byron soundly patted his shoulder. “That can-do spirit!” Then he leaned toward Heath with a conspiratorial whisper. “What on earth happened to yours?”
****
Jeannie peered out the bookshop’s front window in awe. A white van parked at the curb and a uniformed man holding a flower arrangement dashed through the snow to their door. “Another flower delivery! Wow! What’s that make? The fourth one this week?”
Tara sighed in resignation. Heath had sent her a bouquet each day for the past eleven days, and would likely be sending another tomorrow. He’d sent them to her store during the week, and to her apartment over the weekend. There were so many vases competing with books for table and counter space in here, the place was beginning to look like a florist’s shop rather than a bookstore.
“I know! This is crazy. I wish I could make him stop.” The only thing was, that would mean Tara talking to him, and she was fully deter
mined not to engage in discourse with Heath. If she did, she feared she might crumble, and fall into a heap of emotion again. Tara was finally getting herself together, and trying to see beyond what might have been.
She’d investigated a smaller rental space at a boutique that was closing near the bakery, and thought she might be able to convert it to a bookstore with some renovation work. Her dad had offered to help, and she insisted on paying him in return. They were still fighting over that, but Tara understood it was good for her father to have something concrete to look forward to in the lean days ahead. Jeannie and she had compromised on Jeannie cutting back her hours to seventy-five percent, and Jeannie said her fiancé, Dave, who was a builder, might have some contacts for Richard to pick up carpentry contracting work, if he was interested.
Tara was doing her best to construct a future far away from Heath, but he kept butting in—day after day—with a beautiful new bunch of flowers. Jeannie handed her the card that had come attached to the latest delivery, and Tara set the envelope down on the stack of others beside the cash register.
“Aren’t you even going to open it?” Jeannie questioned. “I can’t believe the curiosity’s not killing you!”
It was, but Tara didn’t want to get yanked back in like some helpless fish on a line. Not when she was finally making headway swimming on her own. If she reconciled with Heath, what would that say to her father? That his feelings didn’t matter anymore? Tara couldn’t do that to Richard. Not after he’d made so many sacrifices to raise her well. “I’ll look at them later,” she said glumly, not entirely sure when that would be.
Jeannie gazed around the fragrant room at the colorful flower displays. “What are you going to do with these?”
“I thought I’d drop them by the retirement home after we close on Christmas Eve.”
Jeannie clasped her hands together, pleased. “What a beautiful thought. I know the residents will appreciate them.”
