Until We Say Goodbye

by Jane Drager

  She hadn’t discussed his offer any further. In her heart, she couldn’t be indebted to anyone—not even Deems, especially in the role as mistress. While not adverse to spending more time in New York, she loved the hills of Adams County too much to move permanently. Harrisburg had been a hop, skip, and jump to Arendtsville whenever she wanted to clear the smog and crowds out of her system. If only Deems agreed to a visit…

  But he was right. His life and business were here, and she hadn’t any expectations on a compromise. He was, after all, a self-made billionaire who dictated rules to everyone around him. She didn’t belong in his world nor he in hers. End of story.

  “Lauren, you have a visitor!”

  “Be there in a minute.” Truthfully, she wouldn’t hurry even if the Queen of England waited.

  Barefoot, Lauren left the bedroom to see Jan pacing the living room, looking like a flowing flower in her loose clothing. Deems stood behind the kitchen counter chopping vegetables for their noontime meal. From the way he whacked the knife onto the cutting board, he was none too happy with his sister.

  Both brother and sister shifted their gazes onto Lauren.

  Throwing a hand over her mouth, Jan cried out and ran to Lauren. Her hands reached but never touched, and her gaze circled Lauren’s face. “Oh, Lauren, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into him.” She bit her lip. “Do you hurt?”

  “Everywhere but my feet.”

  Jan stiffened her back, jutted her chin, and glared. “You scared him away.”

  Wow. Jan transformed from wimpy little co-ed to a woman defending her man. Right or wrong, Lauren gave her credit. Frankly, she didn’t give a damn if Jan hated her guts. Whatever Eric wanted from her backpack drove him to desperation. She wandered to the sofa and curled into the corner.

  In daylight, the penthouse took on a whole new look. Soft, tan leather sofas faced each other with a round, glass table in between. Two matching chairs sat at opposite ends, gold-stemmed lamps rested on glass tables at all four sofa corners, and accents with orange pillows were placed for color offset. Beautifully decorated by a professional, no doubt.

  Deems slammed the knife onto the cutting board, making both women jump. “I warned you about him, Jan. He was no good.”

  Jan flopped onto the opposite sofa and buried her face in her hands. “No one cares about my fiancé.”

  How could one argue with such a close-minded mentality? In Jan’s eyes, Eric was a saint. She had no clue Eric planned to skip town without her—and drag Lauren along for fun and games.

  Lauren glanced at Deems, who stood behind the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest, his right hand yielding his chopping knife. He looked like a Samurai warrior posing for a photo, complete with stern expression. When their gazes met, he smirked, relaxed his stance, and unfolded his arms.

  He placed the knife on the counter. “You owe Lauren an apology, Jan.”

  Straightening, Jan glared at Lauren. “I won’t apologize for Eric.”

  “No, you should apologize for not believing Lauren’s side of the story.” He clanged a pan onto the stove burner.

  “Oh.” With a quick glance at Lauren, Jan cringed. “Deems is right. I should apologize. I’m sorry.” She leaned forward with elbows on her knees and gaze staring at the rug. “I still don’t believe everything you told me, Lauren.” She glanced up. “Eric never looked at another woman whenever he was with me.”

  Lauren stopped her mouth from falling open. Holy crap. Jan’s naivety reached a whole different dimension. Stifling a retort, she wagged a finger. “You can’t keep a man on a leash, Jan. From the moment Eric moved in, his aggression grew progressively worse.”

  Shifting her gaze, Jan shuffled her sandaled feet on the rug. “I should have told you our plans before springing the news, but I wanted you to stay.”

  “If I was left alone, I would have stayed, and if he loved you enough, he wouldn’t come after me.” Hint, hint. Like talking to a brick wall.

  Deems’ condo phone rang—a bright yellow one hanging on the wall in the kitchen.

  After a brief conversation, Deems replaced the receiver and approached the sofa. “Detective Baylor just got in the elevator.”

  Seconds later, a chime echoed through the penthouse. Deems walked over to a set of double doors and opened them to show Detective Baylor standing in the middle of the elevator.

  Raising a brow, Lauren turned to Jan. “The elevator opens into the living room?”

  Waving her hand, Jan nodded. “Those doors are like a front door. The person in the elevator can’t enter without a key.” With a quick glance at her brother, she smiled. “I can see you two have something special brewing. I’m glad.”

  Heaviness settled in the center of Lauren’s chest, and she stared out the wide expanse of windows where a bright, blue sky beckoned. Too bad Deems hadn’t proposed. She’d stay in a heartbeat. “I’ll leave in two weeks.”

  Leaning forward, Jan gaped. “He didn’t ask you to stay?”

  “Yes, he asked.”

  “Oh.” Jan blinked several times then cocked her frizzy head. “You’re giving up a lot.”

  More than she cared to admit.

  The two men approached.

  Baylor’s gaze locked onto Jan. “I’m glad you’re here, Ms. Lambert. Has Drummer contacted you?”

  Shoulders slumped, Jan shook her head.

  Deems waved the detective toward a chair. “Have a seat, Baylor. You look done in.”

  The detective dropped into a side chair with a grateful sigh. “I haven’t stopped moving since yesterday.” He glanced at Lauren. “How do you feel?”

  Smirking, Lauren toyed with the edging on the sofa cushion. “Like I completed ten rounds in a boxing ring.”

  A smile touched one side of his mouth. “We have an APB out on Drummer, and two cops positioned to watch the brownstone. If he found what he wanted in the pack, then he’s probably long gone.”

  Deems stood at Lauren’s end of the sofa. “Who was the man in the stairwell?”

  Frowning, Baylor tugged on his white tie. “An insurance investigator who followed Torres’ and Drummer’s trail from the Bahamas. He and his partner were out to recover the seven-million-dollar, diamond-studded necklace stolen from a courier.” He eyed Jan through slits. “A courier who was murdered not far from your hotel, Ms. Lambert.”

  Brows fluttering, Jan shifted her gaze from her brother to Lauren then to Baylor. “Don’t look at me like I know anything about a courier, and I certainly know nothing about a necklace.” Her mouth pinched. “You’re accusing my fiancé of murder?”

  Deems held up a finger. “You mentioned Eric disappeared for a whole day, Jan.”

  Mouth twisting to the side, she waved aside the comment. “I thought he got lost or something.”

  Baylor coughed. “According to our information, your fiancé tucked the necklace inside the lining of your backpack, Ms. Lambert. You carried the bag through customs.”

  Eyes wide, Jan stared.

  Lauren shook her head. “I found no necklace in the pack, Detective. You examined the lining yourself.”

  He turned a sharp gaze onto her. “How do we know, Ms. Howell? According to the Arendtsville PD, your financial situation is bleak. Finding a valuable piece of jewelry can be tempting.”

  Great. First, the Harrisburg cops accused her of being in cahoots with Jo-Jo’s embezzlement scheme. Now, jewelry theft. Sighing, she glanced at Deems, at a loss for a defense. “I didn’t steal anything.”

  Sitting on the arm of the sofa, Deems patted her shoulder while directing his attention toward Baylor. “By chance, was this insurance investigator driving a black sedan with tinted windows?”

  Using a hand, Baylor stifled a yawn then gave a quick nod. “The same one. His partner was still sitting in the driver’s seat when all the hoopla started. He provided us with a lot of details about the robbery.” He crossed his legs. “Since the necklace was no longer in the pack, why was your fiancé so desperate to retri
eve it, Ms. Lambert?”

  Avoiding eye contact, Jan shifted on the seat cushion. “I don’t know.”

  “I understand the pack was originally yours. He had to tell you something.”

  She shook her head. “He told me nothing.”

  Jan’s voice spoke volumes. Like most men, Eric kept secrets. He wouldn’t dare brag about a seven-million-dollar heist to a woman with Jan’s innocence, especially if he had every intention of leaving her behind. Catching the detective’s gaze, Lauren pursed her lips. “You know, the day Jan and Eric returned from the Bahamas, Eric received a phone call and left with the pack. You remember, Jan?”

  Her brows lifted. “Yeah. He had to dump the dirty laundry, but he never explained why he ran out.”

  The detective slapped his knees and stood. “Well, if anyone thinks of anything else, please let me know. As much as I’d like to sit here, I’ve a ton of paperwork to do.” He turned to Lauren with a slight bow. “Ms. Howell, if possible, I’d like you to come to the station tomorrow for an official statement.” He turned to Jan. “As for you, Ms. Lambert, I’m afraid you’re coming with me.”

  “Wait a minute!” Deems’ hand tensed on Lauren’s shoulder before he jumped from the sofa arm and approached Jan’s side. “Why should she go with you?”

  With an appreciative gaze on her brother, Jan released a long sigh. Her face reflected her adoration, and Deems responded with a reassuring pat on the top of her head.

  Baylor rubbed his stubbled chin as his gaze locked onto Deems. “So far, she’s guilty by association. Not a chargeable offense, but I need a detailed statement. If I uncover her lying to protect Drummer, then I’ll press accessory after the fact charges.”

  Standing, Jan straightened her flowery clothes and faced her brother. “I’ll go and tell him anything he wants to know, but Eric kept me in the dark.” Stretching on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “I think I should have a lawyer by my side.”

  “I’ll see you have the best.”

  Jan turned to Lauren. “I’m really sorry.”

  As if mere words eased the pains of broken bones. Lauren simply shrugged and toyed with her shirt hem, unable to meet Jan’s gaze. For a while, their friendship stood on solid ground. They even talked about meeting in Harrisburg so Lauren could show her apple country. She inwardly sighed. Too bad Deems wasn’t interested in a similar tour.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After the elevator descended with Jan and Baylor on board, Deems extracted his cell phone from his pocket and punched in a series of numbers.

  Lauren watched him in silence and marveled how he so easily commanded attention. From the gist of his conversation, he arranged for Jan’s legal counsel. Finished, he replaced his phone and stood stationary, head bent, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets. Her heart tumbled in her chest, for the man looked so defeated. “Jan’s a grown woman, Deems, making her own choices in life. She’ll live through the embarrassment of being associated with Eric, just as I have with Jo-Jo.”

  Grunting, he returned to the kitchen to resume chopping.

  Her cell phone chirped indicating a text message. She slipped the device from her jeans back pocket. Brows high, she glanced up at Deems. “I’ve a message from my mom. In yesterday’s mail, a letter arrived from one of our home town banks. An account has been opened in my name by Mark Jordan.”

  The chopping stopped, and he narrowed his gaze. “How much?”

  “She doesn’t say. I’m to contact the bank officer in person before access will be granted.” She grunted. “He listened to you.”

  Deems gave a crisp nod. “He has no choice, Lauren. If he rights all the wrongs, he’ll retain his job with the company. He’s still a damn good salesman.”

  And an even better liar. Jo-Jo had fooled everyone, and she wouldn’t be a bit surprised if strings were attached to the bank account. Her phone rang in her hand. She rolled her eyes at the insistent shrill and glanced at caller ID. “This is Mr. Stewart.” Cringing, she answered.

  “Ms. Howell, are you all right? Deems called this morning and explained everything.”

  She stole a quick peek at Deems. “I’m so sorry about Mrs. Stewart’s orchids.”

  “Don’t worry about them. She’ll buy more. Frankly, dear, you did me a favor by having a few plants destroyed. Hopefully, you cut down on the garden-store look. Please, don’t replace anything and tell Deems, too.”

  “I will. Thank you, Mr. Stewart.”

  “We’ll be home Friday.”

  So soon? “You’re not cutting your trip short for me, are you?”

  “No, no. My son called from New Jersey. His wife is in premature labor with their second child. Carol promised to be there.”

  “Well, congratulations then. I’ll see you Friday.” Rats. Since her art class ended on Thursday, she had hoped to spend an entire week in total luxury and simply enjoy her time with Deems. Not to be, dammit.

  Heart sinking, she disconnected and stood from the sofa, but thoughts collided all at once. Mouth agape, she whirled toward Deems. “Ohmygosh, they’re coming home. Will the repairs to the condo be done?”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “The head honcho assured me everything will be perfect in a day or two. You have time.”

  Her posture relaxed, and she approached the counter. “I should have told Mr. Stewart not to pay me since I messed up the place.” She slid the phone onto the counter while easing her butt onto a stool. Her gaze scanned the cutting board. Onions, green peppers, and mushrooms were chopped into tiny pieces. “What are you making?”

  “Omelets. No chewing involved.” Reaching for the stove, he turned on the burner under a pan.

  His thoughtfulness formed a lump in her throat. Amazing how this man gripped her heart in all the right ways. He was perhaps the kindest and most considerate man she’d ever met. She cleared her throat. “Can I help?”

  “No. You sit and watch. I’ll have your meal ready in no time.” He broke the eggs into a bowl, added salt and pepper, and beat them with a fork before dumping in half of the vegetables, and then pouring the mixture into the heated pan.

  She smiled at his skill. “For a billionaire, you’re handy in the kitchen.”

  “I wasn’t always rich, my dear. Besides, cooking is a nice way to relax.”

  A man of many surprises. A beautiful condo, a prestigious job, money in the bank—all right, a lot of money in the bank. He probably had a bevy of women at his beck and call.

  The vision depressed her. She hardly had the sophistication for a billionaire’s world. Her country roots ran deep inside her veins. She enjoyed driving the tractor during apple harvest time and sneaking the first taste of cider from the apple press machine. Even her field trips with her art students were a joy as they learned the details of painting a pasture or waterfall.

  “Something on your mind?”

  She snapped from her trance to acknowledge the steaming food in front of her. “This omelet smells wonderful.” The combined aromas of the vegetables made her salivate.

  He inserted a corkscrew into a wine bottle and popped the cork. “You might be eating eggs for a while. The doctor said soft food for ten days before you try something more solid.” He poured white wine into two glasses and set them on the counter before walking around with his plate to sit alongside her. “You seem reflective.”

  Using her fork, she toyed with the egg. “The first night we spent together, did you really run out for condoms or run here?”

  He sipped his wine. “I ran here.” With two fingers, he guided her chin to rotate her head, his gaze searching her face. “I don’t make a habit of jumping into bed with any woman, Lauren. I can’t even tell you the last time I had a date.”

  Again, her cell phone rang. She growled under her breath. “Why am I so popular all of a sudden?” She wanted to open a window and toss the phone to the street below. A fifteen-story drop should shatter the device into a thousand pieces. Except she had no money to replace the damn thing. She sighed heavily and star
ed at the caller ID. “I don’t know this number.”

  Glancing at the phone, Deems nudged her arm. “I do. That’s Mark Jordan. You should answer.”

  Her spine stiffened. “Why? I’ve nothing to say.”

  “But he does. Just talk to him.”

  To right the wrongs. Lauren glanced at Deems who flashed an encouraging smile. She pursed her lips. “All right, but I’m doing this for you, not him.” Sighing, she picked up the phone and hit the Accept button.

  “Lauren? It’s Jo-Jo. Please, listen.”

  At the sound of his voice, she gripped the phone and resisted the temptation to hurl the device across the room. Memories flooded her mind. His betrayal. All his lies. “What do you want?”

  “We need to talk. Can we meet somewhere?”

  Yeah, on a mountainside so I can push you over the cliff. “I don’t want to talk. We’re done.”

  “Please, Lauren. A quick cup of coffee at a small cafe at Sixty-Ninth and Madison. Okay?”

  She tightened her grip on the phone. “I’m not interested.”

  “I need to make amends. Please.”

  She closed her eyes and leaned her elbows on the counter while rubbing her forehead with her fingers. She damn near poked out her eye with the splinted pinkie.

  “Please, honey, one last request.”

  “Don’t call me honey, dammit.” She should tell him to go stuff an egg. “What about your mom and sister?”

  “I put them on the train this morning. They give you their love.”

  Oh, gee, how friggin’ nice. Like I believe them. Where the hell was a dropped phone call when she needed one? She gritted her teeth and immediately felt the twinge in her jaw. “Not today, Jo-Jo. How about tomorrow, say around eleven?”