by Susan Crosby
Two hours later he arrived at the terminal. She was engaged in conversation with an attractive, well-dressed man with graying temples, and...presence, an air of authority. Michael hung back, watching, wondering, especially when she dug something out of her purse and passed it to him. Her business card, Michael figured, seeing the man give her one from his pocket, too. Some guy had come along, seen a damsel in distress and came riding over on his steed to rescue her.
Michael’s world turned green with envy. She was smiling at the man, who laughed in return.
“All set?” Tanner came up beside Michael.
“Yeah.”
After a few seconds, Tanner said, “Are you going to get Felicity?”
“Maybe you should.” He turned and walked away, remembering where he needed to go to board the charter aircraft.
The copilot was already on board, so Michael went up the stairs and settled in his seat. Tanner and Felicity arrived a couple minutes later. Tanner stowed her luggage, then went to the cockpit without a word. She sat in the seat that had been a bed on the way down. They faced each other, but they weren’t next to each other.
He wondered if she could last the whole trip without talking, but then she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
I don’t want to be held to this marriage, she’d said.
Her rejection hurt. It hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced. And all because he couldn’t say the three words she wanted? Maybe he should just do it. Say them. If it would set his world right again, what did it matter?
She woke up when they landed, grabbed her suitcase and went down the stairs as soon as they touched the tarmac.
“Do you need a ride home?” Tanner asked her.
“She’ll ride with me,” Michael said.
“Felicity?” Tanner’s voice was gentle.
“It’s fine. Thank you.” She gave him a smile, picked up her bag and headed for the parking lot.
Michael caught up with her, matching strides. He put their luggage in the trunk. He’d no sooner gotten into the car than his phone rang. His sister Jordana. Tanner hadn’t wasted any time reporting to his wife that there was trouble between Michael and Felicity.
Michael didn’t answer it, nor later when his sister Emily called. After that one, he turned the phone off altogether.
“Do you want to be dropped off at home or the shop?” he asked.
“The shop, please.”
He pulled around the back, where she could go in through the rear door and avoid being seen by the curious masses. No one needed to know she was there unless she chose to let them.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said, polite to the end, as he set her suitcase at the door.
“Felicity—”
“Please don’t,” she said, looking at the ground.
“I have to go home for a couple of days. I had a message from my father when we landed. A problem with the buyout. But I’m coming back. I want to work things out with you. I’m not giving up.”
“I can’t tell you not to come back—you have a lot of family here, after all—but don’t try to see me unless you’ve got annulment papers for me to sign. Goodbye, Michael.”
She rolled her suitcase behind her into the shop. The door slammed in his face. As a farewell line, it’d been a good one. The problem was, Felicity didn’t know that when someone told him he couldn’t have or do something, it made him work harder for it. That was why he’d never failed to get what he wanted.
His winning streak wasn’t about to end now. He did want to be held to his marriage.
Now all he needed was a plan.
* * *
“What did he do?” Sarah-Jane almost shouted as she flung open the back door of True Confections.
Felicity was trying not to show any emotion, not to her aunt, and now not to Sarah-Jane. “What did you hear? How did you hear?”
“You know this town. I got three phone calls in two minutes saying you and Michael weren’t speaking, that he’d broken your heart.”
Felicity forced herself to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Of course we’re speaking. He drove me here. And why would everyone assume he broke my heart? Why don’t you think I broke his?”
“Is that what happened?”
“Nothing in particular happened, Sarah-Jane. We just discovered that we weren’t right for each other. It was just like you and Wyatt said. We’re opposites. We attracted, then we found nothing important in common.” She washed her hands, wanting to do something, make something. “Who’s holding down the store?”
“I put up the Gone Fishin’ sign,” Sarah-Jane said. “People will wait or come back.” She moved closer to Felicity, made her look at her. “You’re in pain.”
Felicity rolled her eyes. “I am not. I had a good time actually. I swam in the Caribbean Sea. I had a lovely dinner as the sun set. He got a two-bedroom suite, so I had my own room. It was fine.”
“Fine.” Sarah-Jane tossed her head. “Fine,” she muttered again as she walked out the door.
“So, how did we end up for Valentine’s Day?” Felicity asked her aunt brightly.
“I ran a total for you, kept it in my pocket in case you called and asked.” She passed it to her niece, her gaze steady. “Not only that, but business continues to come online. And others have called to say their friend/mother/whoever said they were given some of your truffles for Valentine’s Day and they had to try them.”
“Wow.” Felicity stared at the numbers. “That’s amazing.”
“You paid for a lot of help, too, of course, so your expenses are higher, but you made a tidy sum. If you keep this up, you could buy that little house you want a lot sooner than you expected.”
“I met a gentleman at the airport who plans conventions all over the world. He wants to talk long-term contract with me.” She put a hand against her stomach for a second. “It’s happening.”
“If you want it. You’re not deep enough into it at this point that you couldn’t go back to the way things were.”
Felicity nodded. “Lots to think about. Why don’t you go home, Liz? I caught up on my sleep. You must be exhausted.” She hugged her aunt. “I couldn’t have done this without you. No way.”
“I had a whole lot of fun, you know. You’ve built a business that isn’t anything like mine was when you took it over. I wish I’d had your talent and determination. I’m so proud of you.”
Liz left and the kitchen was empty and quiet. Felicity pulled out some bittersweet chocolate and heavy cream. She’d had in mind a new truffle ever since she’d gone to the Sweets Market with Michael. Without thinking about it, she’d just pulled out the chocolate he’d loved best. Next she reached for a bottle of amaretto liqueur.
When she was done making the small, experimental batch, she topped each one with an almond, then drizzled a chocolate heart over it.
Felicity sat back and stared at what she’d created. She’d planned all along to make it for him, with the flavors that had appealed to him, even down to the heart on top. She was going to call it the Fortune Truffle and surprise him with it the next time he came to town.
She took a bite, closed her eyes and let it melt in her mouth. Only then did the tears start to flow. She laid her head on the table and let them fall, mourning the loss of him, missing him like a piece of herself. He’d been worth the wait—until he wasn’t.
After a while, she got up, dumped the candy in the trash and vowed never to make them again.
That chapter of her life was closed for good.
* * *
“Crisis averted.” John Michael poured himself and his son a bourbon on the rocks. “Good job, son.”
“Thanks.” Michael had turned off his emotions as he’d dealt with the new financial demands Trexler had made, but now they crept back. He was cold inside. Ice-cold. He’d gone from the highest high of his life to the lowest low in the blink of an eye.
He didn’t want to be here, but he sipped his drink from the chair across the desk from his father, who
suddenly decided instead of sitting behind his desk, to take a seat in the visitor chair next to Michael.
Michael hid his surprise. His father always kept his desk between them, establishing a barrier between boss and employee, if not father and son.
“I’ve been giving some thought to our conversation the other day,” John Michael said. “You seemed to be contemplating creating a business of your own, which means you’d leave the company.”
Michael didn’t acknowledge the statement. He hadn’t said that to his father, but to his mother, so she’d obviously told. John Michael smiled a little, raised his glass, then went on.
“I can understand your being frustrated in your position, knowing it’s a long time until you completely assume command, but I see you need to take on a more active role.”
“One with autonomy,” Michael said. “I’ve proven I have vision. I’ve proven I make good decisions.”
“You have. So, here’s what I’m proposing. I’ll add president and creative director to your title. I’ll remain CEO, but my role will change. I have strengths in different areas from you. I’ll focus on keeping current customers happy. I know how the good ol’ boys’ network works. You can do what you’ve been asking to for years—use the new technologies to expand our business in whatever way you think will work. It’ll almost be like creating your own company. What do you think?”
He was granting Michael the wish highest on his career list, one he’d hungered for. And yet...he’d been giving a lot of thought to starting from scratch himself, building from the ground up. Maybe in San Antonio, which was close enough to have a house in Red Rock. He wasn’t cut out for ranching like his cousins, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t live in ranch country.
Plus he had the incentive of his wife already living there and probably not wanting to move. His wife may have other ideas, like ordering him to end the marriage, but that was not an option to Michael.
“I appreciate the offer, Dad. I need to give it some thought.”
John Michael had let down his guard, so Michael saw the surprise and disappointment in his father’s eyes. “So, the young miss from Red Rock has spun a sugar web around you.”
“That’s part of it.”
A short knock on the door preceded his mother sweeping into the room, dressed to the nines, as she liked to say.
“Hello, darlings,” she said, as both men rose. She gave Michael a hug, then sat in the chair that John Michael vacated, while he returned to the one behind his desk.
“You look beautiful, Mom.”
“Thank you. Your father is taking me to dinner at Aria.” She gave her husband a loving look, something Michael had never seen before. Had she always looked at him like that?
He glanced quickly at his father, whose expression remained the same, not bored, exactly, but definitely not openly loving. Was that how he and Felicity would appear to other people? One aloof and one adoring? Wouldn’t people feel sorry for Felicity? Because he had to admit, he felt sorry for his mother.
“Your father and I would like to meet Felicity, Michael. Could you arrange that now that her Valentine’s Day rush is over? We understand that her shop is closed on Sunday and Monday, so perhaps she could fly here Saturday night and come to Sunday brunch with the family. Emily and Max will be in town. Blake and Katie said they could make it.”
“Probably not this weekend, Mom. Maybe another time.”
“Trouble in paradise?” his father asked.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” He caught his father’s gaze. “Your scheme worked, by the way. Her business went wild.”
“Did it make her happy?”
“I think she has mixed feelings about it. I think it was too much too soon. She’s smart, and if she’d grown the business exponentially, she would be more comfortable. Having it crash around her wasn’t fair. You had to know—because you’re an astute businessman yourself—that setting her up that way wasn’t a good idea.”
“Do you think I was trying to sabotage her? Why would I do that? I don’t know the woman. I do know you. You would need a strong partner. It sounds like she survived just fine.”
“So you were auditioning her for me?”
John Michael ran a hand down his face. “I thought I was doing her a favor, giving her exposure. You know, son, just because someone does something nice for you doesn’t mean they’re out to get you. I wasn’t killing her with kindness.”
Michael didn’t know what to believe. He’d personally seen his father manipulate people and situations. Maybe he’d never know.
“I think this conversation has gone on long enough, Michael,” his mother said.
There was much more he wanted to say and to ask. Instead, he stood, offered his father a handshake and a silent message that he would get back to him. He hugged his mother then, taking comfort in her familiar perfume and the peace that came with it. “Enjoy your dinner.”
He would go work out at the gym, where he got a lot of thinking done. He would come up with a plan, not just to win Felicity back but for the rest of his life.
Then he would implement the plan and his world would settle down again instead of being topsy-turvy and at odds. He didn’t function well in those conditions.
His life had been unpredictable since the moment he met Felicity.
It was time to stop the craziness.
Chapter Twelve
“I don’t care what words come out of your mouth,” Sarah-Jane said to Felicity Sunday morning, the only day they had off together. “Your eyes say something different. They say you’re sad.”
Sarah-Jane was headed to a barbecue with Wyatt later, but for the moment, the roommates could relax over breakfast at home for the first time in weeks.
“Those are tired eyes, my friend,” Felicity said. “After one more full night’s sleep, I’ll be good as new, I promise. I’m going to help Liz today. It’s hard for her to clean house on crutches. And I owe her big time.”
“I don’t know why you won’t tell me what happened with Michael, because I know something did. Wyatt is furious, too.”
“You should both relax. I have.” Felicity got up from the table and took their dishes to the sink, the kitchen a mess from fixing omelets, bacon and country-fried potatoes. It was the first full meal she’d been able to stomach. At least she hadn’t cried herself to sleep last night. That was progress, too.
Together they cleaned up the dishes and made a potato salad for Sarah-Jane to take with her. Sarah-Jane had done Felicity’s share of the housework, even her laundry, during the past couple of weeks, so she could just enjoy the day.
The morning was beautiful as she headed to Liz’s house. She made her way down Main Street, looking in the store windows.
When she reached the diner, Estelle spotted her and held up a finger for her to wait. Sighing, Felicity stopped.
“You hungry?” Estelle asked as she joined Felicity outside.
“Just ate, thanks.”
“You okay, honey? I heard what happened.”
Felicity spread her arms and looked up. “Exactly what did you hear?” No one could possibly know the truth, because she hadn’t told anyone. Guesswork and speculation, the root of all gossip.
“That the Suit broke your heart.”
“Well, you heard wrong. And why is it that no one thinks I broke his?” she asked, not for the first time and probably not the last. “Don’t you think I’m capable of that?”
“Of course we do, honey. But we all know you’re in love with the man, even though he doesn’t deserve it. How can anyone break the heart of an iceman?”
Felicity blew out a breath. She should just give up. They all loved her too much, which she shouldn’t complain about. “I’m good, Estelle. I’m great, in fact. Thank you for your concern.”
She walked away, only to get stopped again outside Break Time when one of the baristas ran to catch her. “I just tried to call you. Come inside, Felicity. You need to see this.”
The young woman p
ointed to the candy case, which was completely empty. “We restocked from what was in the back, but it’s all gone. What should we do?”
The diligent, responsible Felicity felt a need to get to work, to fill the case again, especially if people were driving from any distance to buy her wares.
But her inner champion talked her out of it, citing potential mental instability—or worse—if she gave in to her instincts.
“Please tell the customers we’re terribly sorry. That the demand was beyond our expectations, but we’ll have plenty available when we open again on Tuesday.”
She’d never been without stock before. If Liz couldn’t help her tomorrow, Felicity would have to hire someone. In fact, she should do that anyway, at least to wash bowls and utensils and be their gofer. Another trip to the Sweets Market would be necessary this week, too.
Hiring and firing. She really didn’t want to do that. She could plan for the holidays, but she hadn’t counted on this bonanza.
She kept walking, trying to forget about the problem for now, trying to empty her mind of everything work—or Michael—related. She found Liz on her front porch, enjoying the morning, her foot with the cast resting on an ottoman, a teapot and a plate with two cranberry scones on a small table within reach.
“Good morning, sweetheart. Come sit with me. Scone?”
“I couldn’t eat a bite, thanks.” She sat on the padded seat next to her aunt. “There’s not enough white space open on your cast for one more autograph and get-well-soon message.”
“I’m a lucky girl, aren’t I? All these wonderful friends and neighbors. And you.” She patted Felicity’s thigh. “I appreciate your offering to clean my house, but I can afford to have someone in, you know.”
It was the right opening for a question that had been on Felicity’s mind for years. “How is that, Liz? I know you never made enough money at the candy business to provide a real income for yourself. How do you afford your life? You don’t have to answer, of course, but—”
Liz interrupted her with a gesture. “I’ll tell you. It’s no great secret, just no one else’s business really.”
