by Judith Yates
“We just went out to one of the terraces to dance—it was a little less crowded.”
“And ten times more romantic.” Nancy had stars in her eyes.
But Holly’s head hurt and she wanted coffee. She didn’t want to continue this conversation. “I’ve got to run to the general store for a pound of coffee. Watch the shop for me, please?”
Scooting out into the cool, calm morning, Holly hoped her friend wouldn’t be too annoyed. She was sick about what had happened after the dance. Recalling how Jordan had left her standing on the porch steps pained her heart. It wasn’t the same as being left standing at the altar, yet she felt the same shock and disbelief, and the same aching sense of betrayal she had experienced on her ill-fated wedding day.
At the store, Holly skirted around the four old men gathered at the coffee machine and went straight to the beverage aisle. She was in no mood to pass the time of day with them. But Howie McGovern and Earle Stacy spotted her when she headed toward the checkout counter.
“Hey, Holly,” Earle called. “Come on over a minute.”
“Can’t right now. Got to get back to the shop.”
“We hear your fella’s been spreading some cash around town,” Howie added as she brushed by them.
Holly just waved and kept on moving. The General Store Four had been calling Jordan her “fella” for weeks. As far as the spreading of cash was concerned, Holly figured it was just another one of their tales blown out of proportion.
Jonathan Warren rang up the can of coffee. “Those guys are in fine form this morning. They’re all up in arms over Jordan’s donations.”
“You mean donation,” she corrected, “the one he made to the town library.”
The manager shook his head. “The word is he’s presenting a check to the PTA’s computer fund during their monthly meeting.”
She tried to hide her surprise. “What’s the matter with that? Everyone knows the PTA’s trying to raise money to buy computers for the school. I’ve contributed to their fund-raiser myself, as I’m sure you have.”
“We’re not talking twenty-five or fifty bucks, Holly.” Jonathan handed back her change. “He’s giving them enough money to buy a computer for every classroom in the elementary school.”
She felt her mouth drop. “That much?”
“Regina Harwood told me so not more than twenty minutes ago. And she should know—she’s PTA treasurer.” With a glance over his shoulder, Jonathan lowered his voice. “Like I told Jordan at the dinner dance, I’m behind him on the zoning issue. But Holly, you’ve got to tell him to be careful. He’s not doing himself any favors flashing money around that way. People are getting the wrong idea.”
She thanked Jonathan and left. She doubted Jordan would take anyone’s advice to heart. He had everything figured out for everybody. And since he’d decreed that the two of them needed to step back, Holly didn’t know when she’d be speaking to him again.
“Jonathan Warren’s missing the boat,” Nancy insisted when Holly told her about the conversation. “Every parent in town is going to be thrilled when they hear Jordan’s buying new computers for the school. Look, my kids aren’t even old enough to attend yet, and I think it’s great. And I bet you’re glad for Steph’s sake, too. ”
“I suppose I am,” she replied, opening the new can of coffee.
She’d be even more glad if she knew how to tell Stephanie Jordan wasn’t going to be around much anymore. Yesterday, her daughter had asked about the dinner dance over and over again. Tomorrow, she would be asking for Jordan, wondering where he was.
Holly doubted Jordan had considered what taking a step back meant for Stephanie. Of course not. His entire argument that night had been about what he needed and what he wanted. And she’d been left to pick up the pieces. Again.
The week passed at an excruciatingly slow pace. Although she had told Stephanie that Jordan’s work would prevent him from visiting, the child kept running to the door every time she heard a noise outside. Stephanie’s resulting disappointment was hard to take. As was her own. Without Jordan, each day seemed endless.
True, he had left the ball in her court. When she was ready to forget who had hurt her and how, he’d come back with arms opened. Yet forgetting was impossible. And Jordan’s harsh, emotional words had made revealing why just as impossible. If he resented his brother’s mistakes, as he had claimed, how would he feel about Stephanie once he knew? Would Scott’s daughter become another mistake in Jordan’s eyes?
Could she ever tell Jordan now? Perhaps going directly to Lawrence was the only way to reveal the truth. Perhaps it always had been.
When Holly arrived home from work Wednesday evening, Gracie was putting the finishing touches on a tuna noodle casserole. “Haven’t made this in a couple of months. I thought it would cheer Stephanie up some. She’s been kind of mopey lately.”
Holly remembered well the last time Gracie had prepared Stephanie’s favorite dish. It was the day Jordan had first shown up in Golden.
“Where is Steph?” she asked, pushing the memory aside. “Out in the tree house?”
“Upstairs reading to Taffy. Or pretending to, anyway.”
Holly poured herself a glass of iced tea, feeling Gracie’s eyes on her. “Is there something on your mind?”
“Well, ah...” Hesitating, Gracie bit down on her bottom lip.
“Come on, Gracie.”
Wiping her hands with a dish towel, Gracie joined Holly at the kitchen table. “It’s just that we haven’t seen Mr. Mason around here since last Saturday night and, ah, I’d been wondering...”
Why wouldn’t Gracie be wondering about Jordan? After all, he’d been at the house practically every day. Still, even after four days, Holly found the entire situation difficult to talk about. So she gave Gracie the same excuse she’d given Stephanie. “The town meeting’s this Saturday morning, and he has to have his presentation ready by then.”
“Sure, he must be real busy,” Gracie said kindly.
But Holly could see she didn’t believe her, and the older woman’s motherly pat on the hand confirmed it.
“That’s what I told Steph. She’s been asking, you know.”
Holly looked down at her glass of tea and squeezed back an unwanted tear. “I do know.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll be all right.” Gracie patted her hand again. “And I hope things will be all right at the town meeting, too. For your sake.”
“I suppose you’ve heard some of the grumbling around town. About Jordan’s donations.”
“That’s the last thing you need to be worrying about now,” Gracie said, getting up from the table. “People are gonna say what they want, no matter what.”
“What have you heard?”
“Not so much. A few eyebrows were raised when he gave the parks association money for installing a new water fountain on the common. But that quieted down real fast until—” Gracie stopped herself in midsentence.
Holly stiffened. “Until what, Gracie?”
“I take it you haven’t heard where the retirement home’s new van came from?”
“No. Don’t tell me he paid for it.”
“That’s what I heard at bingo last night,” Gracie revealed. “Apparently, he gave them the money for it right after he moved to town.”
“He never said a word about it to me.” She couldn’t believe it. Had Jordan been giving away money all along?
“Well, it was the talk of the church hall, I’ll tell you.”
She could just imagine. “What kind of things were they saying?”
Gracie grimaced. “Not much good. Some, like Howie McGovern and Earle Stacey, say he’s trying to buy off the town to make the town meeting go his way.”
That was what she’d been afraid of. “I’m sure a lot of other people feel the same way.”
“He’s gonna hear about it on Saturday for sure. Maybe you should warn him.”
She had warned him against throwing his money around town. Apparently, he hadn’t l
istened. Or—in good old Jordan Mason fashion—he had simply decided that he knew better. As her ire rose, so did her pulse. Did the man’s arrogance have no bounds? What kind of game was he playing with the town? And how dared he jeopardize the future of her business?
“You’re right, Gracie.” She grabbed her purse. “Jordan should know what kind of mess he has on his hands.”
Holly was still fuming when she drove up to the old Paget manse. She pulled in behind Jordan’s shiny new pickup truck—the one he’d bought because his Mercedes stuck out like a sore thumb when he parked it in town. She shook her head at the sight of it. It took more than a fat wallet and a truck like everyone else’s to be accepted into a community.
A glimmer of surprise flashed in Jordan’s eyes when he opened the door. Then his entire face lit up with a smile full of hope. “Are you a sight for sore eyes.”
She steeled herself against the resolve-melting effect of his intense blue gaze. “I have to talk to you.”
“Of course. We need to talk,” he said, drawing her inside. He seemed happy just to have her there. “I’m fixing myself something to eat. Have you had dinner?”
“Jordan, I’m not staying long,” she said firmly as he led into the big country kitchen. An unopened bottle of beer stood on the counter by the refrigerator. A bag of sandwich rolls and several packages of cold cuts were spread out on the round oak table. “Is that your dinner?”
“You know me—I’m not much of a cook,” he said with a shrug. “One thing this town could use, though, is a good deli.”
She glanced again at the plastic-looking selection of supermarket meats. Sometimes he did need taking care of... Catching herself, Holly pulled back from the undertow of her own tenderness.
Leaning back against a counter, she folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve upset a lot of people with your extravagant donations, you know.”
“What?” Jordan flinched as if he thought he’d heard wrong. “You’ve come about that?”
His disappointment was palpable, but she refused to acknowledge it. She couldn’t.
“Do you know how many people you’ve upset? I mean really—a computer in every classroom?” She flung out her arms in disbelief. “Jordan, what were thinking?”
“I still have a lot of friends in the industry, Holly. I’m getting those machines at below cost.”
“That’s not the point. People are questioning your motives.”
“No one has complained to me.” He uncapped the beer bottle with a furious twist of his fingers. “The PTA is thrilled about the computers. I’ve received notes from little old ladies thanking me for a van with air-conditioning.”
“Jordan, listen to me,” she snapped in frustration. “It looks like you’re trying to buy votes to get the zoning approved.”
“That’s ridiculous. And you’re being naive,” he insisted, plunking his untasted beer onto the table. “All I’m doing is contributing to the well-being of the town. Good-faith investment in a community is part of doing business.”
“Not in Golden it isn’t.” She moved away from the counter. “It smacks of greasing palms. The town doesn’t like it, and neither do I!”
“Aren’t you overreacting?” His voice was calm. Too calm. “I’ve been in business a long time, and I’ve dealt with thornier problems than getting a piece of property rezoned.”
His dismissive attitude set her teeth on edge. “I’ve told you—small towns are different. Golden is different.”
“People are people. Business is business.” Jordan’s eyes cooled into two steel pools. “I’ve had a lot more experience handling these situations than you. I know what to do.”
That was the last thing she needed to hear. The last thing she wanted to hear. A bubbling anger roiled over the last piece of concern in her heart. “Yes, you always know what’s best. How could I have forgotten?”
He took a step toward her, his face hardening. “Holly, please.” It sounded more like a warning than a plea.
“You go ahead and handle the town meeting the way you want. I don’t really care anymore.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Believe it.” Fresh anger merged with days of resentment, and there was no stopping it. “But I’ve got more news for you, Jordan. When it comes to what I feel and what I need, you know nothing. And when it comes to my daughter, you know even less.”
“Wait a damn minute.” His eyes were dark and wild as he clamped his hands around her wrists. “I’m crazy about that kid, and you know it.”
Although his vehemence frightened her, the hurt she felt for Stephanie was overwhelming. “While you step back to pout in your corner, Stephanie’s wondering why you dropped off the face of the earth.” She yanked her wrists from his grip. “Did you even think how this might affect her?”
The color drained from his face. “I think about her every day. I wouldn’t hurt her for the world—not knowingly. I miss her. Almost as much as I miss you.”
Holly shrank from his outstretched hand. “The damage has been done, Jordan.”
“Look, I’ll go talk to her—try to explain.”
“She’s just getting used to not having you around.”
“You don’t want me to see her?”
The anguish in his voice shook her. See her? Of course he had to see Steph—he would always have to see her. Blood was the tie that bound Jordan and Stephanie. Not her. With all the confusing emotions swimming inside her head, Holly had lost track of that undeniable fact.
“You have to wait. Please. Wait until—”
His eyes narrowed. “Wait until when, Holly?”
She had almost said wait until she talked to Lawrence. Yet such a slip would be nothing short of disaster. The truth about her child’s father couldn’t come out in the midst of the anger and hurt unfurling between them.
“Just wait until things settle down after the town meeting,” she told him, loathing the lie even as it spilled out of her mouth. After almost five years of protecting her daughter and herself, she’d become proficient at stretching the truth. “The rezoning may not happen, Jordan. The apple packing plant will be worthless then.”
“You helped me script a great presentation, Holly. The rezoning will pass.”
Despite everything she’d tried to tell him, he was still so cocksure he would prevail. “If the zoning doesn’t pass,” she restated firmly, “you may decide not to stick around Golden.”
“That’s not going to happen,” he insisted, his voice turning as cold as his ice-blue stare. “But thanks for showing your enormous faith in me.”
With that dry, cutting dismissal, Holly walked out of his house. She shouldn’t have wasted her time. Jordan had his own method of dealing with life—often arrogant, sometimes manipulative. The way he had tried to talk Scott out of marrying her all those years ago was a prime example.
Holly drove off, wondering if she’d been out of her mind to get involved with him. Had loneliness blinded her from seeing Jordan for what he was? Had she let herself be seduced into forgetting what he’d been?
In one particular instance, however, Holly knew she was no better than Jordan. And she knew she had to rectify that. Immediately.
After pulling off to the side of Old Paget Road, she dug through her purse for the telephone number she needed. With her heart pounding in her ears, she tapped out the digits on her cellular phone. Each ring on the opposite end of the line sounded like an alarm warning her that her daughter’s life—and her own—was about to change forever.
She drew a deep breath when someone finally picked up on the other end. “Mason residence,” announced an unfamiliar, slightly accented voice.
“May I speak to Lawrence Mason, please?”
“He’s not here. He and Mrs. Mason visit Palm Beach until after July 4,” the voice explained. “I am the maid.”
Not there? The ache of anticipation in her chest dissolved in disappointment. The Fourth of July holiday was still a week away. Yet it had to be a good s
ign if Lawrence was out and about. “Mr. Mason must be feeling better.”
“A little. But still he has to be careful,” the maid replied. “The doctor told Mrs. M. a change of scene would be good. Would you like to leave a message?”
“Ah, no, thank you. I’ll call back. Ah, maybe next week.” Then, without even leaving her name, Holly hung up.
“Mommy, Mommy.”
Stephanie rushed into Holly’s room. “Gracie says I can spend the night at her house with her new kitten. Can I, please?”
“Did you invite yourself again?” Sitting at the vanity, Holly fastened her hair back with a large silver barrette. When Steph didn’t answer, she turned away from the mirror. “Did you, Stephanie?”
Nodding guiltily, her daughter stared down at her pink canvas slip-ons. “She really wants me to come—as long as I don’t just play with the little kitty, because Jasmine will get jealous.”
Gracie appeared at Holly’s bedroom door to confirm Stephanie’s story. “I’ve been saying she could sleep over when the kitten got old enough. And since you’re going to be busy at the town meeting this afternoon, I’d just as soon take her to my place, where I can putter around.”
“Don’t you want to vote?” Holly asked.
“I can’t take those long gabby meetings. Too much hot air for my taste.” Gracie leaned against the doorjamb. “But I told Sadie Campbell to run over to the apartment if your vote looks close.”
With a weary sigh, Holly got up from the vanity. “Then you probably won’t be hearing from Sadie. It doesn’t look good.”
“That’s what I’ve been hearing, too,” Gracie said with a sympathetic nod.
The telephone rang as Gracie hustled Stephanie off to pack an overnight bag. Holly reached across her bed to answer it.
“Holly, it’s Gabe. Jordan will be starting his presentation anytime now.”
“But he’s not scheduled until after the lunch break.” She checked her watch. “It’s not even eleven now.”
“I know, but the agenda’s a mess.” Gabe sounded totally harried. “The architect who’s presenting the plans for the new firehouse had car trouble on the way in from Boston. So we had to switch everything around.”
