“Understatement.” Her blue eyes took on a faraway look. “He kept sending things afterward, too, as if nothing had changed. I think that’s what bothered me most. He really expected us to pretend life was the same...that what he had done was somehow normal or justified. I threw each gift away unopened.”
He leaned forward, setting aside his untouched plate. “You never told me that before.” What would have happened if he’d been patient about listening before rather than just growing angry over her lack of trust? “I’m sorry if my gifts were triggers for you.”
“You’re always thoughtful in what you give. It’s not some generic present... Not that I know if my father ever got better at his choices.” She toyed with the spear of cheese and veggies. “I should have donated the presents to charity. It was wasteful to trash them.” She popped a mozzarella square into her mouth.
He noticed she still hadn’t denied his gift giving had been counterproductive. Meaning well wasn’t good enough. Gifts weren’t a substitute for heartfelt actions.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I get too wrapped up in my own pain, past and present. I know that.”
He’d always considered her to be strong, so much so he didn’t always know what he had to offer her. “You have reasons to grieve. We both do. You lost your father. We’ve lost children...and we’ve lost our marriage.”
She set down her plate, looking as disinterested in food as he felt. “I wish I remembered more.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“That bad, was it?” A tear slid down her cheek.
“Parts,” he said honestly. He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her, knowing she would push him away as she’d done in the past.
“Okay then.” She stared at him bleakly. “Where do we go from here?”
“If you’re going to leave me, I just ask that we wait to tell everyone until after the big shareholders’ gala next week.” Not that he gave a damn about any celebration, but he wanted an excuse to keep her here to recover before they finalized any decisions. “Can you promise me that, for my family?”
She nodded wearily. “Until then.”
Two words.
Just two words that signified the second and final end of their marriage.
Eleven
The week passed too quickly for Shana to process the shift in her life. Flashes of memories kept knocking her off-balance just when she thought she’d found a hint of stable ground.
Sitting in her spacious dressing room with her mother and Alayna, Shana struggled to hold back tears. Makeup and cosmetic brushes spread out in front of her, she prepped for the steampunk-themed ball, sweeping shadow on for a smoky eye effect. She blended the warm brown tone on the outer corner of her eye, letting the soft brush bristles distract her from the messier aspects of the forthcoming night. Patting a shimmery gold into her inner eye corner, she took a deep breath, debating which shade of red lipstick would best complement her saloon-girl-inspired gown. She adjusted the straps on her dress, her hair piled on top of her head in a mass of curls.
The past week had been...hell.
Staying with Chuck while the end of their marriage ticked away was like inflicting paper cuts on her already raw emotions. Having her mother on hand had offered a buffer of sorts by keeping things from imploding into a horrible argument.
Not that Chuck showed any signs of temper. He seemed to be just counting down the clock until they could both officially call things quits between them.
Their only interaction all week had been about the investigation. She’d traced the man photographed at the hotel and it wasn’t the infamous Uncle Lyle.
They’d also looked into Sage Hammond, all done with computer searches in bed while Shana rested and recovered. It had been difficult to imagine Sage might be involved. The woman was a shy relative, much like Alayna. A solid worker for the company. For all appearances, she seemed to be loyal, with an unblemished record.
There was no more work to accomplish on that front. No more days left to maintain the facade of a happy marriage for the family’s business reputation.
Pretending at the gala tonight would be yet another, deeper level of hell.
At least Chuck’s family had stayed away for the most part, respecting Chuck’s request for space. Unusual in his big family. She remembered that much from her slowly returning memories. His relatives were a caring lot, but a bit overwhelming. She didn’t know how so many of the Steeles—and now Mikkelsons, too—managed to live under the same roof, even with individual apartment-style suites of their own.
Apparently, the close quarters grated on Alayna, too, as she had shown up on Shana’s doorstep tonight. The teen’s makeup brushes were spread on the marble countertop, too. Shana’s soon-to-be ex-sister-in-law swept bold neutrals onto her eyelids. Things had blown up at the Steele home when the teens were confronted by their parents. The argument had resulted in Aiden threatening to quit college and go work in the oil fields.
Heartbroken, Alayna had raced over to Shana’s. At least the teen had already been dressed for the big gala so once she calmed down, she could still attend.
Any family member’s absence would be conspicuous and a sign of dissention among the ranks.
Not good.
And for that reason, Shana was attending, even though her heart was shattered, too.
Alayna was rocking leather pants and spike-heeled boots with a cream-colored bustier, mining gear hung from her belt. The shy mouse was roaring for the steampunk gala.
Shana’s mother, Louise, smiled brightly, costumed like a Victorian matron with a saucy little pillbox hat perched on top of her upswept steel-gray hair. She took over helping the teen with her makeup while Shana finished her own.
“There’s no hurry to fall in love, sweetie.”
Alayna rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to say that.”
“If you feel that way, perhaps there’s something to what I’m saying.” Louise swirled a plump brush in a bright shade of fuchsia before tapping off the excess.
“I’m in love. I knew the moment I saw him.”
Shana chased feathery memories of the first time she’d seen Chuck. He’d come to her office to subcontract out some security work. She’d fallen hard and fast for the sexy mogul with a rugged edge. Their wedding had been a fairy tale, her mom helping her with makeup then like tonight.
So many memories.
And no doubt so many more that would filter through and break her heart all over again.
Louise dabbed blush on Alayna’s cheeks. “That’s attraction. Love grows over time.”
“How much time?” Alayna asked desperately, testing lipstick shades on the back of her wrist.
Shana’s mother sighed, placing a hand on Alayna’s shoulder, her pearl ring gleaming in the light. “There’s no magic formula. But it takes time to learn about each other and to learn if you’re compatible for the long haul.”
Shana outlined her lips in a dusty red, satisfied with the edgier look that reflected her mood. “It takes time to figure out if someone’s a smooth talker or genuine.”
She’d thought Chuck was genuine. And in many ways, he had been. Memories of their time together this past week collided in her mind, reminding her how good they could be together.
Alayna dabbed her finger in sticky sequins and patted a line along one eyebrow, then the other. “And if the person’s genuine, then it’s love at first sight after all.”
“What do your mother and Jack say?” Louise pressed wisely.
“They just keep freaking out. They’re so into us being stepbrother and stepsister they seem to forget that Broderick and Glenna are married. It’s like their romance doesn’t count since it started before this whole big, weird family merger.”
Shana adjusted her peacock feather and gear-inspired wrap bracelet. “You
should be talking to your mom, Alayna.”
“You can keep saying that, but it’s not so easy. Everyone thinks she’s, like, some kind of saint.” Alayna looked up at Louise standing beside her. “Our family has secrets. You should meet Mom’s sister. She actually abandoned her own son—Trystan—and let my mom and dad adopt him.”
Shana put a hand on Alayna’s arm. “Maybe we should table this discussion for now.”
“I’m tired of how nobody talks about things. Don’t you want to know all the things you’ve forgotten?”
One part of Shana wanted that more than air. Another part winced at the thought of any more heartache.
“That can be tricky since every person who tells me something has their own interpretation of what happened. I need to get a stronger sense of who I am now before I let people start coloring in the blank slate of the past five years.” She leaned forward. “I think that’s what my mother was getting at, when she said you were too young to be sure of love at first sight.”
“Are you saying I’m a blank slate? Because I think that would be a little offensive.” Alayna scrunched her nose.
“I’m saying you may not fully know yourself yet. You don’t have as much perspective as people like our mothers. Give it time.”
Yet even as Shana offered the advice, she knew the answers weren’t always so simple. Especially since time had run out for her and Chuck. All she had left was a chance for one last dance with her husband, one final chance to be Mrs. Mikkelson before she said goodbye.
* * *
Savoring the new-wave folk tunes, Alayna swayed from side to side, each movement sinking her deeper into her spike-heeled boots.
The band was dressed in eclectic Victorian garb. The piano resembled a saloon upright. Alayna lost herself in the music pouring from the speaker—an oversize gramophone.
Her gaze picked its way across the room, working overtime to spot Aiden in the midst of Western memorabilia and technological gadgetry. She did her best to casually squint past the giant leathery hot air balloon in the center of the room. The open basket on the ground sported a flurry of cocktail tables with saloon girls and their pocket-watch-wearing dates.
Attempting to feign interest only in the impressive details of the ball, she let her gaze go up to the balloon’s full height, admiring the twinkling lights arranged to look like faux fire.
Imagination wandering, Alayna pictured what it’d be like for Aiden to grab her hand, whisk her past that hot air balloon and to the dance floor, past steel-framed lightbulbs staggered and hanging from the ceiling connected by rust-kissed chains. A manufactured night sky of possibility that Alayna wanted to entertain. Big-time.
While not as cumbersome as finding him in a masquerade ball, the job of locating Aiden among the hat wear that made fascinators seem as boring as ball caps was proving difficult.
Normally, she would enjoy a party like this. The music, the historical riff—it sure beat the stuffy formal balls her family usually dragged her to. Her mom’s assistant, Sage Hammond, had outdone herself with this edgy celebration for the Alaska Oil Barons, Inc., shareholders and board of directors.
If only Alayna and Aiden could be in the middle of the dance floor, partying...
She wanted to take the advice given to her, but it was hard being okay with the fact that Aiden was leaving, and not to a place she could follow him, like a college transfer to Juneau.
Everything was changing.
The lump in her throat threatened to return. Shoving those thoughts aside, she redoubled her search, moving through the crowd of coattails and wigs of piled curls.
“For the next few songs, we’d like to welcome to the stage Miss Ada Joy Powers,” the lead singer of the band called into the microphone.
Alayna stopped on her heels, turning back to see the famous vocalist burst from behind the massive clock that featured oversize wheels and hands. Dry ice spewed fake fog as the noted soprano emerged, looking as mysterious as all get-out.
The crowd went wild.
“Thank you, thank you all,” she said in a husky voice before nodding to the band to begin. “‘It doesn’t matter unless you give your heart to the moment. To the night...’” Ada Joy belted an original song into the microphone, bopping her hips from side to side in a tight bodice and saloon-girl-style skirt.
Just beside the stage, Alayna saw her cousin Sage. Her heart twinged as she saw Sage in a too-baggy schoolmarm dress. Sage appeared to be like part of the set, fading into the background. But she was the one responsible for overseeing every last detail of this evening.
Then finally, Alayna spotted Aiden—looking hot as always, rocking his costume. He wore a military-style jacket with leather knee boots and a bowler hat with pushed-up goggles.
Her heart pounded as she caught his dark, shining eyes. That signature wide smile spread across his face. He set down his drink on a nearby cocktail table and made strides towards her. His gaze lit as he took in her costume.
She savored this moment of him seeing her—really seeing her.
Alayna perched a hand on her hip as he stopped in front of her. “I can’t believe you’re really leaving college.”
“I plan to go back, once I’ve had some time to find my way and learn the business from the ground up. I finally feel like I’m stepping out of my brothers’ shadows.”
She swallowed down tears. He looked so happy. And she wanted that for him.
“Be careful out there.”
The oil fields could be dangerous. She’d grown up hearing about the accidents, and it chilled her to think of him putting himself at risk.
“You be careful chasing after crazy relatives. No going after them by yourself. Okay?”
She flipped her curled hair over her shoulder. “Sure.”
“I’m not joking around. There are people who care about you who would be glad to help.”
“Just not you,” she couldn’t resist saying.
He rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, his touch warm and tingly. “I gotta find a different path from my brothers. Different from my dad. I want to build my own future.”
She wanted to lean into his hand, to see if he would pull her close.
Not that she believed he would. Especially not here.
“You know you’re making me like you more.”
His eyes roved up and down her once more and he smiled slowly. “You’re going to be just fine, Alayna.”
“Says the guy who told me to find bodyguards in my family.”
He winked. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” And she did. If only he meant it enough to stick around. But he didn’t. “Thanks.”
He extended a hand. “Wanna dance?”
It wasn’t everything she wanted. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to turn him down. It would have to be enough.
For now.
* * *
Chuck pushed past the vintage locomotive at the entrance of the gala, ignoring the smile of the tuxedoed engineer with striped coattails and tall leather boots passing the party gifts to passersby who hadn’t received one yet. The gifts, his cousin Sage had said a few weeks ago, would be brass pocket watches with the new Alaska Oil Barons, Inc., logo plus today’s date.
He’d be damned if he wanted any additional mementos to mark the complete failure of his marriage.
He wanted to drink, to lose himself.
He couldn’t take his eyes off Shana in that saloon girl costume, high in the front showcasing her killer legs, the back of the dress trailing longer. Her hair was piled up in a messy mass of curls that called to his hands to set them free.
Even from here, he could see her swaying to the music. She seemed to fit perfectly into the alternative history theme, the copper piping framing the thick-paned circular window behind the band a natural complement to her costume. He watched
her maneuver through the crowd, toward the scaled-back nineteenth-century oil rig spewing deep red wine. And then he lost her in a sea of curls and goggle-adorned top hats.
He snagged a beer from a passing waiter dressed as a mechanic and moved toward Marshall. The middle Steele brother leaned against the high cocktail table. A plate sporting a picked-at chocolate top hat and mini savory meat pies was pushed against the vintage clock centerpiece.
Marshall brought his water glass—a vintage Mason jar—back to his lips, annoyance painting his face. He had one arm in a cast and sling, the result of a nasty horse accident last week at the close of the rodeo.
Chuck stood across from Marshall at the small cocktail table. “You don’t look like you’re having much fun. Can I get you a beer?”
“Nah, I’m good with this.” Marshall lifted his water glass, lemon wedges mixed with ice, then gestured to the space around him. “Getting dressed up for a party isn’t my gig. If I don’t hold strong, the next thing I know the family will be hiring some image consultant to give me a makeover like they did to your poor brother.”
Chuck laughed softly, his eyes skating to his brother, Trystan, happily dancing with that same image consultant who was just showing signs of pregnancy.
A fresh wave of pain, of loss, stabbed through him.
He shifted his focus back to Marshall before his gaze went searching for Shana for the hundredth time that night. No doubt she was still standing with her mom, his wife looking so damn beautiful it hurt.
“You’re wearing what you wore to the rodeo last week.”
The night Chuck’s marriage had ended for good.
“Exactly,” Marshall retorted. “I don’t like costumes.”
So he’d worn rodeo gear.
Chuck had to chuckle. “Wish I had thought of it.”
He’d chosen black leather, a mix of miner and biker.
They both took swigs of their drinks. Marshall lowered his glass, his expression going somber. “Hey, I’m really sorry to hear about your wife’s miscarriage.”
“Thank you.” Chuck couldn’t say anything more. The loss had hit him hard. There was no getting used to grief. But losing Shana too made the pain cut even deeper.
The Second Chance Page 14
