Nancy seemed reluctant to leave the table without a firm commitment from Faith, but her husband's sharp glance made her get to her feet. "I'll start the dishes."
"I'll help you, Mom," Kim said.
The room fell silent with the exit of the Porters, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, counting off the seconds of her life, Faith thought. She glanced down at the beautifully cut diamond ring. It was a gorgeous ring, and suited to her taste, but that didn't surprise her. She and Ben had always shared the same taste in jewelry. Was that enough to base a marriage on?
Of course not, she told herself. Then again, she'd lost the love of her life. Maybe it was time to settle for a comfortable love, to find joy in being part of this family, to have the babies she yearned for. Ben would make a good father. What was she thinking? They'd never even slept together.
"Did I blow it?" Ben asked quietly.
"You surprised me."
"I was hoping that would work in my favor,'' he said with a guilty smile.
"I don't know what to say."
"Don't say no."
"How can I say yes, Ben? I--"
He cut her off with a shake of his head and a pleading smile. "Don't say no, Faith. I know you still love Gary, but consider this. My parents love you. My sister loves you. And I love you. We could make you happy if you'd let us. We want you to be a part of our family."
Ben was bringing out the big guns, hitting her where she was the most vulnerable, the most needy. And Faith caved in like a marshmallow on a hot fire. "Okay, I'll think about it."
A smile spread across Ben's face. He turned his head toward the kitchen door and called, "You can bring out the champagne now, Mother."
"Ben, I said I'd think about it."
"Close enough."
"Oh, I'm so happy," Nancy said, bursting into the room. She flung her arms around Faith and gave her a tight hug. "This is just the best news."
"I said I'd think about it," Faith said again.
Nancy stopped abruptly, looking from Ben to Faith. "What's to think about?"
"She needs a little time," Ben cut in. "But I'll take a maybe right now, because I'm convinced that she will say yes."
"Of course she'll say yes," Chuck boomed out as he popped the cork on the bottle of champagne. "She knows a good man when she sees one."
"I'd love to be a bridesmaid," Kim said. "But only if you want me. If you'd rather have a friend, I'll understand. I'm just so happy that you and Ben are in love."
You and Ben are in love.
Faith wasn't in love with Ben. She was in love with Gary. Faith tried desperately to conjure up Gary's handsome face, but the image in her mind was dull and vague, and his features kept blending into someone else, maybe Ben … maybe this was the way it was meant to be. Gary fading into the shadows so Ben could take his place.
Faith squeezed her eyes shut, trying to concentrate, trying to see the answer. When it came, her eyes flew open in astonishment, because the face her mind had conjured up was not Ben, but Alex Carrigan, or maybe it was the devil -- a devil with sharp blue eyes and a dazzling smile.
* * *
Alex took a deep breath and raised the weights over his head one more time, feeling his biceps strain with the last repetition. Slowly he brought the weights down and took another deep breath of satisfaction. He exercised every day, determined to make his body as lean and mean as any athlete he worked with.
Alex sat up and reached for the white terry cloth towel he had set next to the treadmill. He wiped the sweat from his face and stood up. Four miles on the treadmill, a series of weights, and he still felt tense, not the usual euphoria that accompanied a good hard workout but rather a feeling of anxiety about a life that was spinning out of control.
The sound of canned laughter playing on his television in the living room and the sound of baroque music coming from his guest bedroom reminded him that his small weight room/laundry room was his only oasis of privacy in what had once been his castle. He was now relegated to the dungeon, so to speak.
Alex walked over to the window, picked up his water bottle on the way, and took long, deep gulps while he stared out at the city of San Francisco. The lights of the Golden Gate Bridge sparkled through the fingers of fog creeping across the city. He loved this town, the crowded, narrow, crooked streets, the bicycle messengers dashing between the cars, the honking horns, the delicious smells coming from every neighborhood: garlic and oregano from the Italian restaurants in North Beach, the mysterious Far Eastern scents emanating from the Chinese restaurants in Chinatown, and the raw, fresh smell of the sea coming from Fisherman's Wharf.
This was his town. He had arrived as an awkward youth escaping from a past and a childhood that had been more embarrassing than joyous. In San Francisco he had become a new person -- a man. He had built a business in the industrial area in the southern part of the city. He now had offices, employees, a warehouse, inventory, and a name, a name he was proud of, a name he wanted to make into a household word -- Top Flight Athletic Shoes.
He wanted every kid to lust after a pair, every parent to run frantically through malls trying to find the shoes on the night before Christmas. He wanted professional athletes to mention his shoes every time they came before the camera. He wanted advertisements that people would remember. He wanted the public to feel as if the shoes freed their souls -- as they had freed his soul.
Alex smiled as the familiar fantasy grew in his mind. As a child, he'd spent fourteen years in orthopedic shoes because his feet turned inward. His parents had been oblivious to his embarrassment and shame and simply told him he'd have to wear the shoes until his feet changed. They didn't care about the taunts he'd suffered at school and on the playground. They'd never realized how hard he had had to fight to play the games he wanted to play, to wear the shoes he wanted to wear.
Nobody had ever understood him. Nobody had ever tried, he thought cynically. Certainly not his mother or his father, nor his grandfather for that matter. After his parents split up, Alex had truly done everything alone, and he'd grown accustomed to the solitude of thoughts and plans and dreams. Now his grandfather wanted a piece of his life. And Jessie wanted another. But neither one of them would last.
He'd suffered through more entrances and exits than his grandfather, who'd been in the theater all of his life. For Alex, the departures had always come from people who promised to stay, who promised to care about him. Well, no more.
He didn't believe in long-term relationships. He knew his grandfather would be gone with the first new show opening on Broadway, and Jessie -- well, eventually her real father would show up to claim her, the way he had before. And Alex would once again be left alone. It would be easier if they'd just leave now before he started to care about them.
With a sigh, Alex checked his watch and realized it was almost ten. It was time Jessie got to bed. Maybe he could talk his grandfather into retiring for the night, so he could have a few minutes of peace.
Alex swung the towel around his shoulders and walked out of the laundry room and through the kitchen. Off to his right, a hallway led to two smaller bedrooms. Off to his left was the dining room, living room, and master bedroom at the far end of the apartment. It was a spacious apartment and one he had worked long and hard to afford. Only, now it didn't seem as big as it used to be. Jessie was sleeping on a futon in the den, and his grandfather had taken over the guest bedroom.
Alex decided to go after Jessie first, and he knew exactly where he'd find her, in front of the television set. As he walked down the stairs into his sunken, usually starkly neat black and white living room, he found Jessie had tossed the pillows from the couch onto the floor and was lying on top of them. A bag of corn chips on the oak coffee table was ripped open and spilling onto his baseball-card book, and two cans of Coke had left wet rings on the wood.
He'd never considered himself a neat freak, but Jessie was bringing out a new side in him. "Time to clean up, Jess."
She didn
't even acknowledge his presence.
"Jessie. I'm talking to you."
He leaned over and snapped his fingers in front of her face.
"What?" she asked with annoyance.
"It's time to clean up, hit the shower, and go to bed."
"It's early, and I'm not tired. Besides, I took a shower a couple of days ago."
"It's almost ten."
"So? I stay up until midnight."
"Not here you don't. Come on, let's go." He walked over to the television and turned it off.
"Hey, that was the best part."
"If you know that, you must have already seen it."
Jessie made a face and slowly got to her feet. She took a moment to stretch, and with her arms raised over her head, she looked very thin, her collarbone and ribs standing out in sharp relief against her thin knit T-shirt. Why the hell hadn't someone been feeding her better?
Catching him staring, she lowered her arms and crossed them self-consciously in front of her waist. "I'll take a shower," she said, "But only because I want to, not because you told me to."
Julian applauded from the doorway. "Very nice exit line, my dear," he said with a twinkle in his eye as Jessie headed for the hall. "But you might want to tilt your head up just a bit more. There's nothing quite so beautiful and proud as a boldly upturned chin."
"You're nuts," Jessie proclaimed as she walked down the hall.
"At last, something the kid and I agree on," Alex said.
"Excellent comeback." Julian walked slowly into the room with the aid of his cane and gradually settled himself into the black leather reclining chair that was Alex's favorite.
Alex didn't know if Julian was playing the part of a crotchety old man or if he truly had become one. That was the problem with his grandfather. Julian was a very good actor.
Julian let out a sigh and rested his head against the back of the chair. "That's better."
"Are you all right?" Alex sat down on the couch. He knew the words sounded grudging, but he was afraid that Julian would suddenly laugh and yell "Gotcha," the way he'd done so many times when Alex was a boy.
"I'm old," Julian said in a somber tone.
Alex didn't know what to say. He could talk up a streak at work. He could sell just about anything. But with his grandfather, silence stretched between them like a high wire, and Alex feared one misstep would lead to a terrible fall.
He shook his head at the wimpy thought, because it reminded him of how often he'd felt like a coward where family was concerned, and how many risks and challenges he had deliberately taken to prove to himself and everyone else that he was as brave as they come, only to find himself, in moments like this, terrified of a simple conversation.
"What are you going to do with her?" Julian asked.
It took Alex a moment to switch gears. "I don't know."
"Is she yours?"
"No. Her mother told me I wasn't the father. She had no reason to lie."
Julian smiled cynically. "There's always a reason to lie."
"Let's talk about you. We need to discuss our long-term plans. If you can't live alone anymore, then we'll have to find you somewhere to live where you'll be comfortable." Alex frowned, remembering his grandfather's earlier lies. "And you won't be strapped to a bed or tortured."
"I want you to help me find Suzannah," Julian said abruptly.
"What? No." Alex shook his head. "I will help you find a condo. I well help you move your things down from Seattle. I will even let you live here for a while, but that's it."
Julian leaned forward, his weary eyes suddenly sharp and piercing. "I must do this, Alex. I don't have much time, and I need your help."
"She's probably dead, Grandfather. It's been years."
"We won't know until we try to find her."
"You've had decades to find her. Why now?"
"Because I'm dying."
Alex swallowed hard, the simple statement taking the breath out of his chest. "You're exaggerating."
"And if I'm not?"
"It's pointless." Alex stood up and paced around the living room, which had once seemed large and carefree but now seemed cramped and filled with responsibilities. "I don't have time to look for some woman you spent a summer with fifty years ago. I have a company to run. I am this close to signing Elijah James," he said, putting his thumb and index finger an inch apart.
"Elijah who?"
"A basketball player, Grandfather, a giant in terms of height, ability, and celebrity recognition. If I can get him to endorse Top Flight Shoes, we'll be on our way to the top."
"The top of what?"
"The top of everything, the athletic shoe business, the money, the -- well, everything."
"Your total happiness and success in life depends on having this giant wear your shoes?''
Why did his grandfather always make his dreams sound foolish? "Elijah is a good part of my future success, yes. I've spent the past ten years building this company. It may not seem important to you. I'm not opening on Broadway or anything, but it's important to me."
"I can see that. More important than me."
"Since when was I first on your list?"
Julian ignored that comment as he always did. He could dodge insults better than anyone. "If you won't help me, I will ask Miss Faith."
"Who? No, absolutely not. You will not involve her in this fantasy of yours."
"I'm doing it for you," Julian said as he got to his feet. "For your own good."
"She's going to think you're a crazy old man, if she doesn't already."
Julian smiled knowingly, his blue eyes twinkling. "You liked her."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"She's not for you."
"Who said I wanted her?"
"You will."
"And why is that?" Alex couldn't help asking, nor could he help remembering the fire in Faith's eyes, the softness of her lips, the curves of her body.
"Simply because you can't have her. You always want what you can't have. Just like the shoes you always coveted. You've built an entire career about getting the right kind of shoes."
Alex didn't want to touch that piece of pop psychology, preferring to stay with Faith. "Who says I can't have her?" If there was one thing Carrigan males did well, it was attract women.
"Oh, Alex," Julian said with a laugh. "You may know more about business than I'll ever know or ever care to know. But you'll never know more about women."
"And you have such a great track record? Five ex-wives, and no one who gives a damn about you now." Julian paled at Alex's harsh words, and Alex once again felt guilty. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
"Of course you did. But you're right, I'm alone, and no one gives a damn about me, because we're cursed." He paused, his eyes darkening.
"I will not allow you to involve that woman," Alex said.
"You can't stop me."
Alex opened his mouth to retort, when it suddenly occurred to him that the air had grown hazy, and his apartment smelled distinctly like smoke.
Smoke!
Alex and Julian raced down the hall and into the bathroom. Jessie, with stringy wet hair and a freshly scrubbed face, sat Indian style on the floor in Alex's navy blue bathrobe, smoking a cigarette.
"Hey, I'm taking a shower," she complained. "Don't you knock?"
"I told you, no smoking," Alex yanked the cigarette out of her hand and tossed it into the toilet. "Now, where is the rest of the pack?"
"That was the last one."
"Are you lying?"
"No."
Alex shook his head. Her eyes were still defiant but a bit uncertain; unfortunately he couldn't read her any better than his grandfather. "I won't allow you to smoke, Jessie. Get that through your head."
"You can't stop me," she said, echoing his grandfather's earlier words.
"I can stop you and I will. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she said sullenly.
"Good." Alex slammed out of the bathroom, furious at the chaos in his li
fe.
Jessie looked up at Julian with an uncertain smile. "He's mad."
"He certainly is. Thank heavens. It's been a long time since I heard any real emotion in his voice."
"I don't think that's a good thing," Jessie said, getting to her feet.
"It all depends on your perspective, my dear." Julian stroked his chin. "That's the best damn exit line I've heard the boy give. There might just be hope for him yet."
Chapter Five
Faith's Fancies was quiet on Saturday morning.
Instead of the usual frenzied businessmen and women on their way to work in downtown San Francisco, the patrons were more relaxed, less stressed, content to sip their coffee and nibble on a pastry while perusing the newspaper. While Faith needed a busy work week to meet her bills, she couldn't help enjoying the leisurely pace of Saturdays.
The only drawback to today's slow influx of customers was that she had too much time to think -- about Ben and the Porters. Thankfully, Nancy didn't work on Saturdays, so Faith didn't have to put on a happy face -- or her engagement ring. Faith still couldn't believe Ben had asked her to marry him. She also couldn't believe she'd said maybe.
She wasn't in love with Ben. Then again, maybe she'd never be in love again. That depressing thought brought a sigh to her lips and a heaviness to her heart. Still, she supposed she was lucky that another man wanted to many her -- another good, honorable man. Just because Ben didn't make her heart race, or her palms sweat, or send a flutter of butterflies into her stomach, didn't make him a bad choice for a husband.
The bell over the door jangled, and Faith looked up with a cheerful smile, eager to take her mind off her thoughts. A genuine sense of pleasure filled her when she saw the old man's face, his halting gait, sharp blue eyes, and windblown hair. In the morning light she could see a trace of his grandson in Julian Carrigan, and she had a sense that he must have been quite a ladies' man in his day. After all, he'd snagged five wives. She couldn't imagine even wanting to get married that many times.
"Mr. Carrigan, good morning."
Julian walked slowly to the counter, leaning heavily on his cane at times. He had exchanged his suit coat for a long brown overcoat that was just as worn, just as wrinkled. She wondered if Alex had ever considered buying his grandfather a decent coat.
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