“Yes.”
“We will miss you, you know.”
You could have fooled me, she thought. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll…miss you, too.”
He was quiet, just looking at her through the gap between two of his computer screens. She had that feeling again, of something crackling in the air, coming as much from him as from her.
“Faith, I…”
She realized she was sitting forward in the chair. “Yes?” She sounded ridiculously eager. She made herself sit back again.
“I’ve behaved badly for the past week or so. And 1 want to apologize.”
Was this real? Should she pinch herself? “You do?”
“I do. Will you…forgive me, for being such a rat?”
She said nothing, though her foolish heart felt about ten pounds lighter suddenly.
“Faith? Will you please accept my apology?”
She couldn’t let him off the hook too easily. “You have been pretty terrible to me, Price.”
“I know. And I am sorry. I just didn’t want you to go. I’ve come to count on you. More than I realized, I’m afraid. And when I saw that nothing was going to keep you here, I was angry. And I took it out on you.”
She sighed.
“Faith? Come on.”
“Oh, all right. Let’s forget it.”
He looked genuinely humble and grateful. She drank in the sight; it was so rare. Then he coughed. “I’ve made reservations. At Tower on the Bay. For this Saturday night.”
She tried to keep looking alert and interested. But she couldn’t help wondering what in the world his having dinner at the best restaurant in San Francisco could have to do with her? Did he hope she’d go out and choose some little gift for his date?
If so, she was going to bluntly inform him that requests like that must now be addressed to Justine.
Price went on. “I was really hoping you might go with me.”
Faith opened her mouth. And closed it. “Excuse me?” she murmured faintly.
“I said, would you go out to dinner with me? Saturday night.”
It took her a moment more to really believe what he was asking her.
And then, as her stunned surprise faded a little, she began to understand what he was up to.
He’d finally forgiven her for leaving. His basically generous nature had surfaced again at last. He really did feel rotten about how badly he’d treated her, and he was going to be wonderful to her from now on.
Oh, she knew him. She knew exactly what he was planning. She would be getting the farewell dinner, the gold watch and the severance bonus—as well as a big fat thank-you-very-much-for-all-you’ve-done.
“Faith? Will you?”
Loving him as she did, could she bear such a thing?
“Faith?”
She smiled. You bet she could. So what if he was just being kind? She would be able to leave Montgomery House with one lovely memory to treasure for the rest of her life: her dream date with Price Montgomery.
“Thank you, Price,” Faith said. “I’d love to go.”
Chapter Five
That Saturday evening, Price was nursing a Chivas and soda in the front parlor, waiting for Faith to appear, when a small figure shot past the entrance to the music room. Price took another sip of his drink and pretended he hadn’t noticed a thing.
Having the boy in the house was working out all right after all. And as long as the child gave Price a wide berth, it would continue to work out all right.
Price heard the faint tattoo of small feet across the wood floor in the dining room. Then quiet descended as the child retreated to the central hall—probably on his way up the back stairs to the temporary quarters he shared with his mother. When Faith left, Justine and the boy would take over her third-floor suite.
Price wandered over to the tower window alcove, which was tucked between the east and north walls. Outside, it was already dark, so there wasn’t much to see in the glass but his own reflection and the grand room behind him. Nervously he patted an inner pocket of his jacket. The velvet box was there, of course, with the watch and the folded check tucked safely inside.
“Price?”
He jumped at the sound of his name, then settled down a little when he realized it was his mother’s voice. He turned and smiled at Ariel and Regis, who were just coming in from the front foyer, where the main staircase led up to the second floor and their suite of rooms.
“Mind if we join you, dear?”
He went to the nearby wet bar and opened the beveled glass cabinet. “What can I get for you?”
Ariel asked for a martini, and Regis said he’d like a Glenlivet over ice. Price was happy to make the drinks. It took his mind off how idiotically edgy he felt. His father appeared at his elbow just as he finished pouring out the Scotch. Regis took the drinks from him and carried them to the brocade sofa in the middle of the room, where Ariel had already found a seat.
Price resisted the urge to freshen his own drink. He wandered over to a wing chair near his parents, but couldn’t quite make himself sit down.
Ariel had just started to tell him how lovely she thought it was that he was taking Faith out somewhere nice when they all heard the tapping of high heels through the arch that led to the music room. Ariel stopped in midsentence.
The three of them looked expectantly toward the entrance to the room where the grand piano stood. Price heard his father’s indrawn breath at precisely the same moment he himself forgot how to breathe altogether.
Faith was there. In the archway, looking like he’d never seen her before.
She wore black. Black velvet. With a high neck and long, clinging sleeves that accentuated her slim, pale hands. The dress clung to her body, flaring out a little as it got past the soft curves of her hips. It had some shiny stuff wrapped around it at the waist, like satin, only stiffer. The skirt ended just above her shapely knees. He looked at those knees and then lower, all the way to her high-heeled black shoes.
And then up again, to her white throat and her hair, which seemed to fall like sable water, over her shoulders and down her back. Her earrings were like teardrops. Ruby-red teardrops. Her lips were redder than usual, with some kind of gloss. Her pretty white teeth were worrying them just a little.
Ariel found her voice first. “Dear. You look fabulous.” She set her martini aside and jumped to her feet, dancing lightly over to the archway, where Faith stood so still and wary.
Ariel took Faith’s arm. “Come on. Sit with us. Just for a moment before you and Price take off.” She glanced over at Price. “Price. This girl deserves a drink, don’t you think?”
He dragged a breath into starving lungs. “Absolutely. What will it be?”
Faith shifted her black wrap and her beaded evening bag from one hand to the other. “Just some tonic water.”
“Whatever you want.” Price returned to the bar area.
“Come, dear. Sit down,” Ariel said to Faith.
Price hardly recalled what happened in the next few minutes. Somehow, he dropped some ice cubes in a tumbler, filled the thing with tonic and threw in a wedge of lime. He carried the drink to Faith—and then nearly dropped it in her lap when he saw that damn dress from the side. The back was cut to the waist in a deep vee. A big bow of that stiff, satiny material perched right below where the vee ended. And her hair was tied loosely in the middle of her bare back with a strip of black velvet.
His hands itched to trace the shape of that vee, to pull on the end of that strip of black velvet until her hair came totally free.
He wondered if he’d lost his mind, to have even imagined that he could make it through a whole evening with her. He would disgrace himself; he had no doubt now. He would end up begging her for a caress, on his knees in the hope of a single kiss.
She murmured a sweet, demure thank-you when he handed her the drink.
He stood above her, by her chair, as she and his parents made small talk, about how adorable Justine’s kid was, and how well Justine
was doing at taking over Faith’s job. Once in a while, one of them would turn to him.
“Don’t you think so, Price?”
“Price, isn’t that right?”
He managed, somehow, to formulate a brief answer to each question, as if he had some idea what they were all babbling about.
At last, it was time to go. He took Faith’s drink and set it on the bar, and then helped her into the little velvet evening jacket that matched the dress. The jacket, he decided, was a real lifesaver; it covered her silky-looking bare back and made it marginally easier for him to concentrate on getting them out the door.
They moved out of the parlor and into the foyer. Ariel kissed Faith on the cheek and told her to have a wonderful time. Faith promised that she would. Regis opened the door.
Price dared to put his hand on the small of Faith’s back, right above that black bow. She stiffened, but then seemed to relax under his touch. He guided her gently over the threshold.
* nbsp;* nbsp;*
Regis shut the door quietly. Then he turned to his wife.
“Oh, my darling,” she said. “How could we not have seen it?”
Regis shook his head. “We’ve been blind, my love.”
Ariel brushed the hair from her face. “Price is fighting it. He’s been hurt so much. And Faith is…so tender, so inexperienced. It breaks my heart to watch them.” Regis heard the sadness in her voice, saw it in her violet eyes. “How will they ever find their way to each other?”
Regis closed the distance between them and gathered her into his arms. “Let’s not worry, all right? I’m sure everything will work out as it should.”
“But, Regis…”
“Shh…” He kissed the tip of her beautiful nose. “Te quiero.”
Her eyes widened. She drew in a sharp little breath. “Sagapo.”
They turned for the stairs with their arms around each other.
Beyond the window beside their table for two, a layer of clouds obscured the stars, as well as the waning moon.
Far below them lay the bay. If Faith turned her head slightly, she could see Angel Island. Before her, beyond Price’s left shoulder, the Golden Gate Bridge, studded with its double string of lights, glittered through the darkness. A yacht and a river cruiser traveled the shadowed waters, white, foamy wakes spinning out behind them.
Their table itself was an invitation to romance, complete with a glowing candle and a single red rose in a crystal bud vase. Faith sighed as she took it all in. She shouldn’t get carried away, of course. But in a setting like this, how could she help herself?
The wine steward appeared at Price’s elbow. Price ordered a vintage Dom Perignon, then grinned across the table at Faith. “Don’t say it. This is a special night. And almost isn’t good enough.”
Faith put on a patient look, which was always her response when Price insisted on having the best, no matter the cost. Years ago, for Danny’s christening, Price and Marisa had thrown a big party. Price had expressly ordered Dom Perignon for his guests. Faith had argued with him; she knew of another champagne that was much less expensive and almost as good.
Price had insisted, Almost isn’t good enough.
Faith rested her elbows on the table, on either side of her gold-rimmed plate and gleaming silverware. “You’re an extravagant man.”
“No. I like the best—and I’m willing to pay for it.”
Faith let her glance slide away, and knew that he went on looking at her, his eyes warm and full of admiration.
She loved it, to have him look at her like that.
She’d spent a small fortune on her dress, running out and buying it even though she couldn’t really afford it, because she was determined that this would be a night she’d remember all her life.
And she’d been right to do it. The dress made her feel like someone else, someone sophisticated and knowing, someone who always dined on gold-rimmed china and casually sipped Dom Perignon.
She looked at Price. He smiled at her.
She really did have to watch it. She had to keep reminding herself that this wasn’t a real date.
But keeping a grip on reality wasn’t easy. How could it be? Right now she felt as if she’d stepped out of her ordinary, hum-drum life and into an honest-to-goodness dream come true.
The champagne arrived. The waiter poured.
Price offered a toast. “To your new life.”
Faith raised her glass and drank, feeling the bubbles go down and laughing just a little at the wonderful way they tickled her throat.
He set his glass on the snowy tablecloth and leaned toward her. “You know, I just realized…”
“What?”
“You’ve lived in my house for all these years, and yet I don’t know where you grew up, what high school you went to, none of that stuff.”
Out the window now, Faith could actually see a star or two. The high clouds must have cleared just a little.
“Faith?”
She looked at him. “You don’t want to hear all that.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Yes, I do.”
He seemed so honestly interested that she found herself explaining, “I had an…unsettled life during my school years. To tell you the truth, I took night classes to finish high school.”
“So you missed all the high school things, is that what you’re saying? The homecoming games and the proms and the big graduation night?”
She nodded.
“I missed them, too,” Price said. “Or at least most of them. We moved around a lot.”
Faith felt suddenly closer to him, thinking that his childhood might have been just a little like hers. But not in the way that really mattered, of course. Price had always had two parents who loved him with all their hearts.
He looked at the candle between them, then back up at her. “You were, what—in your early twenties when you came to work for me?”
She sipped more champagne; a small sip. “Twenty-four. Almost twenty-five.”
“Okay, almost twenty-five. I seem to recall you’d had a year or two of college.”
“I did.” She set the-glass down; it wouldn’t do to get tipsy. “But only one year. At Chico State.”
“Why Chico State?”
“My sisters and I lived together in Chico for a few years, after we struck out on our own.”
“You have two sisters, right? Evie, and…”
“Nevada.” She volunteered, “Nevada lives in Phoenix.”
“What does she do? I don’t think you’ve ever said.”
“Price. Why all these questions?”
“Because I want to know. Hell. This may be my last chance to find out about you.”
It seemed a reasonable enough answer. And yet all this interest in her life made her nervous. The champagne glass seemed to beckon. She picked it up and sipped some more. “Nevada hosts a talk radio show. She gives advice to the lovelorn.”
“All of a sudden, you’re grinning.”
“I am?”
“You are. Why?”
Dom Perignon really was an excellent champagne. “You’d have to know Nevada. She’ll never marry. She rarely even dates. And yet she has a talent for telling other people how to handle their love lives.”
The flame of the candle between them gleamed in Price’s eyes. “What about you, Faith? Will you ever marry?”
The question seemed awfully personal. But that was okay, wasn’t it? She held out her glass. He refilled it. “I hope to get married someday. And have children. I’ve seen what Evie has with Erik. And I’d like to have that myself. If I meet the right guy.” The bubbles tickled her nose as she drank again.
He was watching her. “But you’re more like your other sister, aren’t you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“I mean, you don’t date much.”
Faith set her glass down and told herself not to pick it up until she’d eaten something. She leaned back in her chair and studied the planes and angles of Price’s face. She felt…
bold. And capable of a certain degree of honesty. She went with it. “My sisters and I had a difficult childhood. Our mother died when we were all pretty young. We were raised by our father…well, it was more like we grew up with our father. He never really raised us. He did what he wanted, traveled around all the time, and he dragged us around with him.”
“You resent him?”
“I used to. But I think I’ve gotten over that, as the years have gone by. My father never could hold a job. And he was…cruel at heart. Until Evie met Erik, we all three believed we’d never marry. We just had too many bad memories of what a man can be like.” She gave him a sheepish look. “No offense intended.”
He chuckled at that. “None taken.” And then his expression turned more serious. “And I know, from what happened over a year ago, that your father has serious problems.”
Price was putting it mildly. Fifteen months before, Evie had been kidnapped by their father, whose unstable mind had finally snapped.
“Your father’s in Oregon now, is that right?”
Faith straightened the silverware. “An institution for the criminally insane.” She looked out at the Golden Gate again. On the other side of it was Sausalito. And, though of course she couldn’t see it from here, she knew that high in the hills, Montgomery House stood tall and proud. Something deep and painful moved inside her. She would miss that house—and the people who lived in it. “I’ve been happy, Price. In your house.”
He raised his glass again. Faith broke her promise to herself and picked up her own glass. This time the toast was a silent one. They drank at the same time.
Then a waiter appeared with appetizers: steamed mussels drowned in herbs, prosciutto-wrapped bread sticks and fried shrimp and cucumbers with a spicy peanut sauce for dipping.
Price took one of the shrimp and dipped it in the sauce.
“Good?” Faith asked, after he’d popped the shrimp into his mouth.
He nodded. She tried one, too, then sipped more of the bubbly wine.
He said, “I’m glad you’ve been happy. You are so good at…what you do.”
She made a small noise of mock disgust.
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