by Donna Alward
“And you lost your wife, too, right?”
He gave her a cold look. “Don’t act like you care about that. Her lawyer certainly didn’t. It was all about the numbers, and putting a price tag on the six years we were married. Apparently I was such a horrible husband that she deserved five million a year in compensation.”
She knew that wasn’t how it worked, but that he was speaking from a place of bitterness. Moreover, he had to be loaded. Thirty million? He’d paid his ex-wife thirty million dollars?
“Your lawyer should have done better for you,” she said firmly, picking up her coffee cup. “Children?”
“None, thank God.” She sloshed some of her coffee and he shrugged. “Not that I dislike children. Quite the contrary. I’m just glad we didn’t have any to get caught up in a custody battle.”
She relaxed a little and met his gaze. “I know.”
“Do you?”
His tone was accusatory but this time she let it bounce off her. She did know. Her parents had stayed together but custody agreements were tough, and if anything made her cry in her job, that was it. Children were not possessions or assets. And sometimes there was an internal struggle between fighting for her clients’ interests and trying to do what was right for the kids.
“I think I’ll go up now.” She put down her cup and started to push out her chair.
“Nantucket,” he said, his voice firm and definitive. “You outbid me, Ms. Quinn.”
Her cheeks flamed as she put her napkin on the table. “Yes—yes, I did. I wasn’t sure you remembered. Mr....?”
“Chambault. And I remembered.” His gaze was hard, his body language sharp and edgy as he reached for his drink. “You held out to the last minute.”
“I play to win.”
“Not everything is a game.”
“No, but strategy matters. Good night, Mr. Chambault.”
She turned on her heel and walked away, her heart pounding. The evening hadn’t gone as she might have liked, but at least she’d ended it with the last word.
CHAPTER THREE
MOLLY STRETCHED IN front of her window and took a deep breath, taking in the view. Dawn had come about an hour earlier, and now the morning sun sparkled off Victoria’s inner harbor and the pristine white sailboats docked within it. She’d slept soundly; despite the turmoil of dinner, the mattress had been most comfortable, the pillows plump, and the dose of melatonin she’d taken for the time-zone changes had carried her off to sleep. Today they’d leave for the Cowichan Valley, where they’d visit several wineries, do some tasting and spend the night in luxury before heading for their more “rustic” adventures.
She was just about to head for the shower when her phone rang. A quick look at the screen showed it was her father, and she let out a sigh before answering. He’d thought her trip was foolish and ill-timed, but then she realized that her parents had kept to the same schedule for most of Molly’s life. A condo in Antigua every January for a week. Two weeks in Europe in May, before it got too hot. They stayed in the same places—the right places—with the right people and never varied. The idea of taking off on a whim had caused such an uproar that she’d had to postpone her originally planned trip and rebook.
Now he couldn’t even leave her alone for the ten days she was gone. She didn’t want to resent it, but she did. A lot.
“Good morning, Dad,” she said into the phone.
“It’s noon here.”
“I know.” She rolled her eyes. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to keep you up to date on the Morrison-Cleveland case. She’s asking for less alimony in exchange for full custody.”
Molly pinched the top of her nose and closed her eyes. “Which arrangement benefits the children more?”
“He’s our client, Molly. Not the children.”
A familiar feeling of rebellion rose into her throat. “Well, you know how I feel about this. Look, I know he’s our client but he had affairs and got caught, and then got stuck with a DUI charge. They’re going to have a more stable life with their mother at this point, and it would be great if we could keep them from using their children as leverage. He’s not a family guy, Dad. He’ll pay less in alimony and you can negotiate a fair visitation schedule.”
“I knew that was what you’d say.”
“Then why did you call?”
“You dropped the ball on this one. The idea is that he gets to keep his kids and a bigger portion of his money. You know that.”
Molly sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not sure I agree.”
“You’d damn well better, for the fee he’s paying. Molly, we didn’t get where we are by being soft.”
There was a long pause, and then Molly said, “I’m on vacation, you know.”
“Oh, believe me, I know.”
The words I’m sorry sat on her lips. For leaving, for leaving her caseload with him, for disappointing him, for whatever else she might need to be sorry for. For being the child who’d survived? But she didn’t say it. She was so tired of apologizing when something didn’t go exactly to plan. Of daring to actually try to have a life of her own. She couldn’t always be Jack. His death hadn’t been her fault. But placating her parents was her fault. She’d got into the habit and now had a hard time getting out of it.
“You know you can do this in your sleep, Dad,” she replied instead. “You don’t need me there.”
“Not really the point, Molly. You left your clients in the lurch.”
Now she was getting truly irritated. “So you’ve said. But even you take a vacation. I’m back in ten days. The firm won’t fall apart.” She sighed and stood once more. “I’m late, so I’m going to have to cut this short. Bye, Dad.”
She hung up, knowing she’d catch hell later for hanging up on him. But seriously. Wasn’t she entitled to a holiday? And at twenty-nine years old she could figure out when and where she wanted to go. She didn’t need his approval, though for some reason both her parents seemed to think she did. She turned off her phone and shoved it into a shoulder bag. Her stomach growled. If she didn’t grab some breakfast soon, they’d be on the road and she’d be running on empty.
She called for a bellhop to get her cases, and once they were collected she adjusted the strap on her bag and headed for the coffee shop. What she needed was a huge coffee and something to take away the gnawing in her gut. In a matter of minutes she was sipping on strong, black brew, with a cranberry muffin in her other hand and a banana tucked into her purse.
The group was congregating in the lobby, waiting for their transportation, chatting up a storm. Molly knew she should join in, make some acquaintances. That was what last night had been for—breaking the ice. Right now she held back. She was still irritated by her father’s call and that work life had intruded when she’d been gone only twenty-four hours.
Eric was standing by the sliding doors, talking to the couple she’d met at dinner last night. He was relaxed and smiling, and suddenly he laughed at something, the warm sound carrying across the lobby and sending goose bumps over her arms. She lifted her coffee and took a gulp, the hot liquid burning her throat.
He looked over and the smile slid off his face as he offered a basic polite nod.
Well, bully for him. He had a very closed mind, judging her for her job just because he was divorced. It wasn’t her fault that negotiations hadn’t gone his way.
She wondered why they’d split in the first place. There was always a reason. She’d heard them all in her years in the firm. A few had caused some raised eyebrows but little surprised her now. She looked at him, standing with his weight on one hip, his hand tucked into the pocket of pressed khakis and his shirt taut against a broad chest. Appearances didn’t count for a whole lot when it came to a lifetime of happiness, but she couldn’t discount the way her breath caught just a little when she looked at him. It wasn’t just that he w
as handsome. There was a quiet confidence that was magnetic. Yesterday he’d been insufferably overbearing when he’d barged into her room, but something told her he wasn’t always so abrasive.
So he didn’t like what she did for a living. So what? She hadn’t come on this trip as some sort of way to meet a man or hook up. She’d done it to expand her own horizons. To take charge of her own life and live a little. Eric Chambault wasn’t going to stand in the way of that, so she adjusted her shoulder strap, put a smile on her face and made her way to the congregated group standing just outside in the sun, waiting for the luxury passenger vans that would take them to their next destination.
* * *
Eric tipped back his head and let the sun soak into his face. Their tour guide, Shawn, had told them that the first day of the trip was their easiest one—wine tours and tastings. While it wasn’t really on the extreme adventure list, the tour centered on showcasing what Vancouver Island had to offer.
Right now Eric was sitting on a patio just outside the town of Duncan, with the sun beating down on his face and the smell of tart wine and freshly cut grass touching his nose. On his next deep breath, he thought he could taste the tang of the ocean in the air. Maybe this was the “easy” day, but the relaxation came as a welcome relief from his hectic schedule.
He was one of the first back from the tour of the cellars, but his solitude was short-lived as the other eleven in the group made their way, talking and laughing, to the stone patio for lunch. He straightened and smiled as people approached, already flushed from stopping at two other wineries before their late meal. A light laugh caught his attention and he looked up to see Molly—Ms. Quinn—smiling up at someone he’d met named Rick, who was a real-estate developer from Arizona. Rick was at least fifty with a booming laugh, so Eric wasn’t sure why on earth he’d feel the least bit of jealousy.
Maybe because when Molly looked at Eric she tended to scowl, rather than smile, like she was doing right now.
The group congregated around the collection of tables, and within moments the staff began delivering wine selections and platters of local cheese, freshly baked breads, olives, roasted vegetables and fruit. Once again, Molly seemed like the odd person out, like him. Everyone else was either part of a couple or traveling in pairs with a buddy. His skin tingled as her skirt brushed his arm when she pulled out a chair and sat beside him.
“This was a consequence I hadn’t anticipated,” he said quietly as she picked up her napkin.
“What’s that?”
“Being a single in a group full of doubles. It seems as if we’re paired up once again.”
“I apologize.”
Her voice was soft but there was an underlying steel that made him smile. “I should be the one apologizing,” he replied, feeling a bit like a jerk. “I shouldn’t have used the word consequence. It has a negative connotation.”
And yet the correct word seemed just out of reach.
She met his gaze, and he was momentarily lost in her clear blue eyes. “I’m sure that as we go on, we’ll make friends in the group so we’re not always stuck with each other.”
As in, she was also stuck with him.
A server poured wine into Molly’s glass and she tasted it, savored and nodded. He indicated he’d have the same. The pinot blanc was buttery and with notes of pear, and while Eric tended to prefer reds, he found it really quite nice. For a few minutes they focused on filling their small plates with selections from the platters. Then Eric turned to her and offered an apology.
“I’m sorry for what I said last night. I’m still bitter from the divorce. But clearly it isn’t your fault.”
“Just people like me.”
He swallowed tightly, unsure of how to respond. She wasn’t wrong.
“Like I said last night, your lawyer should have done better for you,” she suggested, spearing an olive on her plate. “I would have.”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “It wasn’t just about the money,” he said quietly. “That stings, but I’ll make it back. It wasn’t my whole fortune. Not even close, really.”
He wasn’t trying to brag; it was the truth.
She chewed and swallowed thoughtfully. “Were there significant grounds for the divorce?”
“You mean, did she catch me cheating or something?”
Molly raised an eyebrow and popped a piece of cheese in her mouth.
“No,” he answered tightly. “No, I didn’t cheat. And I don’t think she did, either. We just...didn’t suit.”
“What are you leaving out?”
Her gaze had never wavered from his face, and he realized it both put him on the spot and had the consequence of making him also feel incredibly heard. For the first time, he admitted where he’d been at fault. “She called me unavailable. As in... I work too much. That she wanted a husband, not voice mail and an empty bed.”
“And was she right?”
He took another gulp of wine, the pang in his heart a reminder of how he’d failed. He had loved her. And he’d tried to provide her with a secure life, which in the end she hadn’t appreciated. Ironic, considering she was very secure now. “She wasn’t exactly wrong about work.”
Molly sat back. “So you’re taking this vacation to...”
He stared out over the sloping vines and sighed. “Well, to unplug for the first time in years, really. It was hell not turning on my phone today.”
She laughed then, the sound brushing over him like a summer breeze. “Oh, I wish I’d had your willpower. My father called me early this morning about a case. And a chance to twist the knife a bit that I’ve abandoned the family firm.”
Eric’s mouth fell open. “By leaving for less than two weeks?”
She rolled her eyes and nodded. “I’m usually the ‘yes’ girl. I was getting tired of having my whole life planned and scheduled by someone else, so I bid on the trip.” She met his gaze again. “I was supposed to do this a month ago. Instead I had to finish up a Very Important Case.” She sipped her wine and grabbed a slice of bread. “Just so you know, they’re all Very Important Cases.”
“My deals, too. I’m in acquisitions.”
She considered a moment. “So you, what? Buy, strip and resell?”
“Pretty much.”
“You’re like that guy in Pretty Woman. He didn’t build or make anything, either.”
“I make money,” he suggested and then laughed a little at himself. “That’s why I was in Nantucket. I was working on a deal in Boston. Going to the benefit was a bit of goodwill on my part. Not that it wasn’t a good cause. And hey. It got me here, and I would have missed walking into the wrong hotel room and being flayed alive by the sharp edge of your tongue.” He gave a sideways glance. “You must be terrifying in the courtroom.”
She burst out laughing, then sighed. “Oh, I suppose I am. But it’s exhausting. It’s...a mind-set, really. I have to try really hard to leave work at work. You and I have something in common, you know.”
“What’s that?” Curious now, he leaned closer to her, and a soft floral scent reached through the other delicious aromas of the day and hit him square in the gut. She smelled so...pretty.
“We both deal with The End.” She plucked another olive and chewed it thoughtfully. “You buy up businesses in trouble. I dissolve relationships in trouble. It’s not exactly the most optimistic and hopeful occupation in the world. It can be downright depressing.”
“So why do it?”
She sat back. “Ah, now that is the question, isn’t it?” Her voice was deceptively light, and she was saved from answering when a server came out with another platter, this time with handmade fruit tarts.
They both selected a tart but he wasn’t deterred. “So why are you a divorce lawyer if you don’t like it?”
“Because I’m twenty-nine years old and a full partner,” she said, but her gaze
didn’t quite meet his. She bit into the tart and crumbs went fluttering to her plate. “Why are you in your line of business?”
He looked out over the vines for a moment before turning back. “Because I joined the company right out of school and worked my way up. And then I bought it when I was thirty.”
“And that was...”
“Almost five years ago.”
He was thirty-four and what did he have to show for it? A huge bank balance but not much else. No wife, no kids... God, if he didn’t have time for a wife, how could he ever be a good father? He wouldn’t even know where to start. His own father had taken off when Eric was twelve, leaving him, his brothers and his mom to pay off the debts he’d racked up as well as paying the bills. Eric got a paper route and mowed grass until he was old enough to work. Then he got a job with a landscape company in the summer and did snow removal in the winter to help with finances. By the time he was seventeen, he was running his own crew at the company and it paid his way through university—he’d done his degree at McGill so he could stay at home and commute, saving dorm costs. His brothers had all taken similar paths. Work. Some postsecondary schooling at community college. Except they’d gone into business together, while Eric had moved on.
From the moment his dad had abandoned his responsibilities, Eric and his brothers had begun shouldering them as a team. When he decided not to join in the car dealership with them, it had been seen as a betrayal. His relationship with his family had suffered because of it. And yet if anything happened to the dealership now, Eric knew that he’d be able to step in and provide his family with the security they’d need. He never wanted any of them to go through what those early days had been like. He was the oldest. Perhaps the younger boys didn’t remember as well, but he did.
“Where’d you go?” Molly’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts. Her tart was gone but his hadn’t yet been tasted.
He gave his head a little shake. “Sorry. Just thinking.”
