Her hand was on his thigh. He took it in his, looking at her long fingers, the painted nails. Bright pink, he thought. A ridiculous color. Yet so right on her.
“They talk to me now,” he said. “The people in town. They talk to me. I know it’s because of the lab. The jobs, the opportunity. If I fail, I fail them all.”
Linda pulled her hand free and stood. “First, you’re not going to fail. I refuse to believe that. Second, they’ve always talked to you. You just never noticed before. You were too busy feeling sorry for yourself.”
He stood and faced her. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Not anymore.”
“But before?”
She shrugged. “You were mopey.”
“Then why did you stay?”
“Where else was I supposed to go?”
She’d been with him nearly twenty years and until these past couple months, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her before. Emotion crashed through him—unfamiliar and terrifying. He wanted to pull her close and hold on like he would never let go. He wanted to beg her to stay. He wanted her to tell him again how she believed in him, because her belief had power.
“Don’t leave me,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, his hands clenched into fists to keep from dragging her to him. “Please, don’t leave me.”
She smiled. “Abram, I haven’t left yet. Why would I leave now?”
His throat tightened. “You are too good to me.”
“That’s true. You don’t appreciate me enough. Always the absentminded scientist. Always thinking of your work.”
“Not always,” he told her, and lightly touched her cheek. “I haven’t been there for you. Not the way I should have. I’ve taken you for granted. You could have left a thousand times. No one would have blamed you.”
“Where else would I go?” she asked again.
He hadn’t realized how he’d been living in darkness until there was suddenly light. “My ex-wife complained that I loved the work more than her. That I wouldn’t notice when she was gone. She was right. It’s not like that with you. I can’t survive without you. I am a selfish man who gets lost in what he does. You have no reason to care about me. I accept that. But I love you, Linda. Perhaps I always have.”
He dropped his hand. “Why would I tell you that today? When I’ve failed? I’m a fool.”
“You’re not,” she told him, then raised herself onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his. “Today is the perfect day. I love you, too, Abram. Moping and all. You’re brilliant and I have complete faith in you.”
She loved him? Why? What chain of events, what quirk of fate, would allow him to be so fortunate?
Energy swept through him, filling him with ideas. In a nanosecond, there were possibilities where there had only been failure.
“She was right,” he said more to himself than Linda. “Varying the levels could change everything. I must get back to the lab.”
He turned to leave, then hesitated. “Should I say more to you? Do you want me to stay?”
Linda smiled, brightening the room and causing his old, nerdish heart to flutter. “I want you to find a miracle.”
“I’M NOT SURE about this,” Kerri muttered as Nathan led her through the downtown Nordstrom. “It feels borderline icky. Cheap even.”
He took her hand and pulled her along. “We’re looking in the designer section. It won’t be cheap.”
“That doesn’t help.” She pulled her hand free and stopped in the middle of the aisle. “I’m not comfortable.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
He was far better at power plays than she would ever be, she discovered as he simply stared at her.
“You’re buying me clothes,” she said, her voice low.
“I asked you to go to a charity event with me. It’s formal. Your lifestyle doesn’t lend itself to dressing for events like that. The deal is you help me out, not that you incur expenses.”
Now he was talking like an accountant, she thought with a sigh. Even though he was telling the truth. There was no way she could have afforded a suitable dress. Nathan’s logic made perfect sense, but she didn’t have to like it.
Maybe what she really hated was the reminder that there were too many differences between them. When they were alone, it was easy to pretend they might have something in common, but here…not so much. Not in an elegant store surrounded by pricey merchandise. While she’d never actually been in the designer department, she had a feeling the clothes there went for a whole lot more than she paid in rent. Possibly more than she’d paid for her car.
“I know a couple of great thrift stores,” she muttered. “Or we could have gone to a consignment store.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Not your style,” she said.
“Not my style. Come on. We have an appointment.”
She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
He took her hand again. “We have an appointment with one of the shoppers. She’ll help with coordinating shoes and an evening bag. Whatever you need.”
Kerri had never made an appointment to shop. The most organized she ever got was being at Target at five in the morning after Thanksgiving to pick up a couple of bargains for Cody for Christmas. She had certainly never used a shopper.
The “she” in question was a tall, slender beauty in her forties named Antonia. She was graceful, well dressed and spoke with a slightly foreign accent. Kerri immediately wanted to be her.
Antonia introduced herself, shook hands, then stepped back and studied Kerri. Kerri pressed her lips together to keep from apologizing for the worn jeans and T-shirt.
Either Antonia was used to badly dressed clients, or she was too polite to notice. She smiled at Kerri and said, “I am familiar with the event in question.” She wrinkled her nose. “Very expensive dresses and jewelry, but they are a little short on good taste, yes? You have a beautiful face and wonderful figure. You will be a goddess. They will all whisper, wanting to know who you are. It will make for an excellent evening. What do you think?”
“That if you can make that happen, it will be amazing.”
Antonia laughed. “I have so much to work with. Your excellent genetics and Mr. King’s credit card. Both make my job very easy. Come. This way. I have picked out a few dresses. We will see how they look on you. That will give me an idea for direction.”
As they walked toward the dressing area, Nathan leaned close. “Good trick,” he murmured in Kerri’s ear. “She put both of us in our places.”
“At least you have value because of your business success. I’m nothing but good genetics.”
He grinned at her. “I’ve always admired that about you.”
“Don’t let my excellent bone structure fool you. I know how to throw a punch. I could have you doubled over in pain and gasping for breath in about three seconds.”
“Tough talk.”
They stared at each other, both smiling. Kerri found herself getting lost in his eyes, in the humor there, and something else she wanted to call affection. She knew he liked her, so it wasn’t a huge stretch. What she didn’t know was how much he cared. Was it friendship or something more?
She started to tell herself it didn’t matter, when suddenly she realized it did. It mattered a lot. She wanted Nathan to think well of her, to like her. But why? He was a means to an end. At least he had been.
Panic swelled up like a blowfish, making her stomach hurt and her chest tighten.
Don’t think about it, she told herself. This wasn’t the time. They were shopping. She needed to focus. She would panic later, when she was alone and could think things through. Tonight she would wrestle with the fact that she’d been so busy being sure no one could possibly touch her heart that she hadn’t noticed someone had.
“Mr. King, I have the Wall Street Journal here for you, along with the remote.” Antonia motioned to a comfy-looking leather chair in front of a flat-screen television.
“Would you li
ke me to order you coffee or something to eat?” she asked.
Nathan shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
“I will.”
Kerri leaned close. “It’s not like this at the discount store, although you can certainly go stand in electronics and catch the game.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave her a push. “Quit stalling and go find a dress.”
“Yes, O great leader.”
She followed Antonia into the biggest dressing room she’d ever seen. There was a full three-way mirror against one wall, a love seat and five dresses hanging on hooks on the walls.
Each was more beautiful than the one before. There was a midnight-blue strapless gown with a draping skirt, a pale pink slip dress with exquisite lace and beading at the bodice and tulip hem. A simple black dress seemed out of place until Antonia turned it, exposing the plunging back.
“I don’t have a bra that will work with any of these,” Kerri said.
“Not to worry. Someone from our lingerie department will be by shortly to fit you with an assortment of bras. Everything is to be perfect.”
Kerri wasn’t sure she was up to perfection, but she kept that thought to herself.
Twenty minutes later her breasts had been through their most thorough exam ever. She had been fitted for several bras, each designed to go under a different dress. Any lingering hint of shyness had long since disappeared. There was nothing like having a tiny woman in her sixties staring at one’s breasts to get over the whole being-naked-in-front-of-strangers thing.
Antonia slipped a long, flowing print dress off the hanger and held it out. “We’ll start here. The pattern is bold enough to be noticed, but not so large as to overwhelm your body.”
“Lord knows we don’t want that,” Kerri murmured as she stepped into the dress and pulled it up. Antonia worked the side zipper, then fluffed the skirt and walked around Kerri.
“We can pull it in some,” the personal shopper said, apparently talking to herself. “The straps sit well. I don’t like the way the front hangs.”
She moved in front of Kerri and began gathering pinches of fabric. Kerri stood still, waiting to see how this all would end. Finally Antonia stepped back.
“What do you think?”
“That I don’t love it. I would prefer a solid color.”
Kerri half expected to be told she was wrong, but Antonia only nodded.
“Then that’s what you will have.”
Three dresses later, Kerri held the midnight-blue strapless dress in place while Antonia fastened it in the back. There was a zipper and several small hooks and eyes. The bodice was tight, pushing up Kerri’s boobs until she looked positively lush. Of course, some of that was the very expensive, very well-fitted bra she had on.
Antonia set a pair of metallic high-heeled sandals on the carpeted floor. “Try these on. With a long dress, a sense of length and height is important.”
Kerri slipped into the shoes, then stared at her reflection. She looked tall and thin and sophisticated. All she needed was some serious jewelry and a small dog on her arm and she could easily pass for a B-list starlet.
“I like it,” Kerri said.
“I agree.” Antonia fluffed her hair. “Up, I think. In a simple but sophisticated style. Some jewelry and you’ll be set. Come. You can show Mr. King.”
Kerri wasn’t sure if she was being offered a suggestion or given an order. Either way, she walked out of the dressing room to the alcove where Nathan waited.
He glanced up from his paper, then set it aside and stood. “Wow.”
“Wow’s good.”
“You’re beautiful. The dress isn’t bad, either.”
She laughed. “Flattery really works.” She turned in a slow circle. “I love the dress. I love it with a fiery passion that borders on unnatural.”
“Should I be jealous?”
“Of course. You don’t make me look nearly this good.”
“Can you dance in it?”
Before she could answer, he slipped one hand around her waist, grabbed her fingers with the other and began moving to an imaginary beat only he could hear.
Kerri laughed as he dipped her, then caught her breath as she straightened.
There it was again—a sort of fluttering inside. One that warned her she was in big, big trouble. Telling herself he was the wrong man didn’t seem to be working, so she reminded herself that there was more at stake than her foolish heart. There was the life of her son.
She stepped back. “So you like it?” she asked, not looking at him. “I haven’t dared ask what it costs. I don’t think I want to know. I’m going to need shoes, too. I’m sure I can find some at a consignment store.”
He stared at her for a long time, as if he knew what she was thinking. As if he understood there were choices to be made and that when the outcome was her son’s life, there wasn’t much of a decision.
“If you like those shoes, we’ll get them,” he said at last. “Or you can try on more.”
“No, these work.” She reached out to touch him, then dropped her hand to her side. “The dress is beautiful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I have no idea where I’ll wear it again. There aren’t exactly formal events in Songwood.”
“You’ll figure out something.”
They were still only feet apart, but she actually felt him moving away. Emotional distance yawned. He knew her well enough to understand what was wrong. She knew him well enough to know he didn’t agree or approve. That he thought she was punishing herself and possibly him for something that neither of them could control.
She wanted to explain, but what was the point? Their positions were clear.
“Thank you,” she whispered again.
“Something to remember me by.”
She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry.”
“You can’t change what you believe. Not when you don’t want to.”
She walked back into the dressing room and waited for Antonia to return and unfasten the dress. As she stood in front of the triple mirror, she wondered why her reflection was so blurry. Then she saw the tears on her cheeks.
How odd, she thought. It had been years since she’d cried for herself. Until now, all her tears had been spent on Cody. Until now, she’d had nothing else to lose.
NATHAN STOOD outside the apartment building and stared at the main door. There wasn’t a doorman, or even a lock. Anyone could go inside. Yet he felt as if there were a thousand miles between him and Frankie’s apartment and light-years between him and Frankie.
He told himself there was no point in speaking with her. While he didn’t know what she was going to say specifically, he could guess the message. Still, he felt compelled to reach out, to try to…what? Connect? Was that possible? Wasn’t he doing her a favor by staying away?
A coward’s question, he told himself as he crossed the street and entered the building. He climbed the stairs to the right floor, then knocked on her door.
She answered without asking who was there, then stared at him across the threshold.
“Hello, Frankie,” he said quietly. “How are you?”
She looked like crap—wild-eyed and pale. Her clothes were mismatched and oversize, her hair was stringy. She wasn’t the pretty younger sister he remembered, but then he doubted he’d lived up to her memories, either.
“Go away,” she told him, her fingers clutching the edge of the door so tightly they turned white. “Go away.”
“I want to talk to you.”
“I’ll bet you do. You want me to change my mind. Ha! That’s never going to happen. I’m speaking at the hearing. Did you know that? I sent in a letter and they’ve agreed. I have so much I want to say. I have facts and figures and sad pictures of dying fish and animals. I’m not going to talk about the plants. No one cares about them. Not really. But if it has fur and big eyes, I’ll get TV time.” She smiled. “You are so
screwed.”
“Is that what you want?” he asked. “Will that make things better?”
“It won’t make them worse. I hate you, Nathan. Hate you. Do you hear me?”
He did, and the words were so profoundly sad that he ached for her—for them both. She was his sister—he was supposed to take care of her. But he’d failed her and she would never forgive him for that. Fair enough—he hadn’t forgiven himself.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I’m sorry for not being there. I was a kid and I just…”
“I was younger,” she shrieked. “I was younger, Nathan, and you left me alone. With him. Every day was worse. I begged you to come home, but you wouldn’t. You were gone and I was alone.”
Tears filled her eyes. She brushed them away. “So now you’ll pay. I’m going to destroy you.” The smile returned. “I’m your sister. I think people are going to find it real interesting that I’m so against your towers. People don’t like you, Nathan. You haven’t made a lot of friends. You’re too rich, too mean. You’re a bastard. People like the underdog. That’s me.”
She trembled as she spoke and there was an eerie light in her eyes.
“I don’t care about the towers,” he said. “I care about you. You need help.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want to lock me away. Get rid of your problem by locking it away. That’s not going to happen.”
“I don’t want to lock you away. I want to make things better.”
“You can’t,” she screamed. “They’re dead. Dead. Dead.” She went pale and her voice dropped. “I’ll stop you. That’s what matters. Go away.”
She slammed the door and locked it. He stood in the hallway and listened to his sister count to four over and over. He ached for her and some for himself. For what he’d callously thrown away, never imagining how much it would matter later.
She’d been right. He’d only wanted to escape. He’d ignored her pleas because he’d been young and selfish and busy. Now they were both paying the price.
“Did I do this to you?” he asked aloud.
The hallway was empty, but that didn’t matter. He already knew the answer.
He had.
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