Halfway to Paradise

by Neesa Hart

  Maggie cast a quick glance at the door. “Carl, what about the structural design?”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. “I don’t know.”

  Maggie’s heart started pounding. “He didn’t give you any indication at all?”

  “No. He’s playing this really close to his chest. I don’t know what Pete has told him, and I’m not sure what Max is thinking. He did say something about wanting to keep the bid local.”

  “Local?”

  “Yeah, you know, use an in-state company.”

  “But, Carl—”

  “Look, Maggie, Max is leaning on Pete for this. I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t have much influence.”

  “Scott’s designs are perfect for the tone of the resort.”

  “Maybe Max thinks awarding the bid in-state will save him grief with the zoning commission.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “It’s business. It’s not supposed to be fair.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Just sit and wait. Max is so unpredictable, I hesitated to even call you tonight. I just figured things were a little rough on you right now, and some good news might help.”

  Maggie realized with something of a shock that it almost seemed unimportant to her whether By Design was awarded the bid or not. Scott had invested so much of himself, staked his career, possibly his future on the Cape Hope Resort. If Max Wedgins awarded it to another firm simply because of some stupid advice from Pete Sherban, it would be disastrous.

  “Maggie?”

  She started. She had all but forgotten that Carl was on the other end of the phone. “I’m still here, Carl. I was just thinking.”

  “Listen, you and Ryan have a good Christmas. I just wanted to call and let you know things look good for you.”

  “Thanks. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

  “I’ll talk to you as soon as I know something definite.”

  “OK. Bye, Carl.”

  “Bye, Maggie.”

  Maggie dropped the receiver back in its cradle. She stared at it, frowning.

  “Who was that?”

  She jumped at the sound of Scott’s voice. She hoped she didn’t look guilty. Somehow, she didn’t want to talk about the bid, or Carl, or Max Wedgins. Not tonight. “Lily,” she said. “She called for a recipe.”

  Scott slipped his arms around her from behind. “Why are you frowning at the phone like it’s going to bite you?”

  “I—I think I told her the wrong amount of flour.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “Call her back.”

  Maggie tipped her head to the side. “No. I’m pretty sure it was right. It won’t matter that much anyway.”

  He turned her around in his arms to give her a lingering kiss. “Come see the tree. It looks good.”

  Maggie hedged. “Dinner’s ready. Why don’t you guys come eat first.”

  “You can’t put this off forever, Maggie. Come on. It’s just a tree.”

  “You know why I don’t want to do this.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I know. It’s important to Ryan, Honey.” He laced his fingers through hers.

  “Scott, I—”

  “Maggie.” He gave her hand a gentle pull. “It’s going to be all right. I promise.”

  She dropped the dish towel she was holding onto the counter. “All right. Let’s go.”

  Scott ushered her through the swinging door. The tree that had seemed so short and fat when she’d cut it looked massive now that it was inside the house. The lace angel tree-topper scraped the ceiling, and the boughs spread well into the living room.

  “What do you think, Mom?” Ryan asked, pointing proudly to the tree. “See what we did. We put all the ornaments on by color. The blue ones are on the bottom, then green, then red, then gold, then mixed-up.”

  “Very impressive,” Maggie said, staring at the white lights. “I see you found the lights.”

  “Yeah.” Ryan adjusted an ornament to a lower limb. “They were crammed in a box way in the back of the attic. I had to use the flashlight.”

  Scott’s fingers tightened on her hand. “It wouldn’t have been a tree without lights,” he said.

  “No.” She felt her throat tighten. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t you like it, Mom?”

  Ryan was looking at her with obvious concern. She managed a weak smile. “It’s wonderful, Ry.” She jerked her hand from Scott’s. “L um, I need to wash up before dinner. Can you guys set the table?” She fled the room without waiting for an answer.

  She sat down on the side of her bed and stared at Mark’s picture on the dresser. “You’re being ridiculous,” she scolded herself. “You’re being totally ridiculous. It’s just a tree. What’s the big deal?” She pressed her lips together, determined not to cry.

  “Maggie?” Scott said from the doorway.

  She didn’t look around. “I’m fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  He shut the door behind him. He crossed the room to sit down next to her on the bed. “Maggie, it’s okay.”

  “This is so silly,” she said. She wondered if he could hear the slightly hysterical note in her voice. “It’s just a tree. There’s no reason why I should be acting like this. You think I’m acting silly, don’t you?” She blinked several times to keep tears from falling.

  Scott put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m the one who sat in my apartment all day yesterday and stared at the walls. I’m not going to tell you you’re acting silly.”

  “Well, I am,” she said. “Why should I be so upset over a tree?”

  “It was the lights, wasn’t it?”

  Maggie choked back a sob. “Yes.”

  “Tell me about the lights, Maggie,” he said quietly.

  She kept staring at Mark’s picture. “He was supposed to be home the week after Christmas. Ryan and I promised him we’d wait. I told him I wouldn’t light the tree until after he got home. The day”—she gulped back a sob—“the day his body arrived, I came home and tore the lights off the tree.”

  “Oh, Maggie,” Scott pulled her against his chest. “Honey, it’s all right.”

  “I don’t want to cry over this. I don’t. It’s silly.”

  “It’s not silly.”

  She pushed at his chest. “Stop being so nice. I’m going to start bawling. I don’t want Ryan to see me like this.”

  He gave her hair a gentle tug. “What do you say I go and tell Ryan to unplug the tree? You can meet us downstairs in a couple of minutes, and we’ll eat.”

  “Okay.” She sniffed.

  “Then after Ryan’s in bed, you and I will sit on the sofa, and you can cry all over me.”

  Maggie choked out a slight laugh. “You have no idea what you’ve let yourself in for.”

  “I think I can handle it.” He rubbed his hand over the soft fabric of his shirt. “See. Flannel. High-absorbency.”

  She sat back, wiping her eyes. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  “We’ll be waiting,” he said.

  Maggie entered the kitchen five minutes later to find Scott and Ryan making a miniature teepee out of spoons. “That’s some centerpiece,” she said.

  Scott flashed her a smile. “Yeah, well, it was either this or a clown made out of oranges, strawberries, and toothpicks. My repertoire is sort of limited.”

  “Good choice.”

  Ryan balanced a fork on top of the teepee. “That is so cool.”

  Maggie carried the Stroganoff to the table. “Okay, Ry, wash your hands so we can eat.”

  He climbed down from his chair. “Can I have tea instead of milk?”

  “I guess it’s all right,” she said.

  Scott took the pot from her. “All right?” he asked, his hazel eyes filled with concern.

  Maggie nodded. “All right.”

  It was after ten o’clock when Ryan finally wound down enough to go to bed. Maggie finally had to bargain with him by agreeing to let him listen to Christm
as carols for another thirty minutes as long as he stayed in bed. She switched out the light. “Good night, Ryan.”

  “Good night, Mom.”

  She trudged down the stairs, bone-tired. Scott had built a fire in the living room, and the orange glow of the flames cast dancing shadows on the walls. The scent of the Christmas tree, coupled with the spicy woodsmoke, made the house feel particularly cozy. Maggie sank down onto the soft couch with a tired sigh.

  Scott slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Tired?”

  “Exhausted.”

  “I’ll bet. It’s been a rough day for you.”

  She momentarily thought of her conversation with Carl, but thrust it aside. “I’m sorry I got so emotional over the tree.”

  He rubbed his knuckles on her arm. “No apology necessary.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “Maggie,” he said, “you’re overwrought. Who wouldn’t be in your shoes?”

  She curled her fingers into his shirt. “I think Mark would expect me to be taking this better.”

  “Mark’s not here,” Scott said. Maggie noticed a slight edge to his voice. “I am, and I don’t expect you to be taking this any differently than you are.”

  “I’m so tired,” she said. “It’s like it never goes away. Every time you think you have it under control, something else sneaks up on you.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, realizing she didn’t. “I don’t. I’ve done all the talking I can. I just want to sit here for a while and be close to you. All right?”

  Scott shifted so they were stretched out on the couch. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  As Maggie dressed the following morning, she thought about the wisdom of what she was about to do. Scott had never returned to his hotel last night. Instead, he had stayed on the couch with her, and sometime, late in the night, she’d managed to talk about Mark’s death and what it had done to her.

  She had been surprised that she had not been more emotional. Perhaps she owed that to the fact that she’d already told Scott so many of the things she’d been through. Persistently, though, her thoughts had returned to her conversation with Carl. The longer she talked with Scott about Mark, the more she thought about how long she’d dwelled on the past. That, in turn, made her think about the future, which naturally led to thoughts about Cape Hope.

  During the night, Scott’s touch had been comforting, rather than passionate. He had seemed to realize that what she needed was his companionship. Unselfishly, he had given it. Even his kisses had been soft and compassionate. He didn’t push. He gave instead. Maggie had felt cherished. Loved. Valued.

  Shortly before dawn, they’d fallen asleep. When Maggie woke, Scott was in the kitchen fixing breakfast for three. She had stretched like a languorous cat, enjoying the unique feel of being pampered. Scott had carried a cup of coffee to her. “You keep this up, and I’ll get spoiled,” she said.

  “You mean after all the trouble I went to arranging dinner at the ice arena, all that was really needed was a cup of coffee on the couch?”

  Maggie smiled slightly at the memory as- she tied a silk scarf into a loose bow. She had reached her decision to pay a visit to Max Wedgins while she was drinking that cup of coffee. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, or what kind of game Max was playing with the bidders, but she did know that Scott Bishop deserved a whole hell of a lot more than a brush-off from Pete Sherban.

  She had told Scott that she had to drop some things off for a client, then finish up her Christmas shopping for Ryan. Scott had volunteered to keep Ryan with him that morning, which gave Maggie the perfect opportunity to call on Wedgins. The trick would be getting in to see him.

  She eyed her reflection once more. The forest green suit was flattering and professional. It was also the most expensive outfit she owned. It had seemed outrageously extravagant when she’d bought it, but now, she was glad she had splurged. She figured she would need every confidence booster she could get, and every little bit would help, even if it was just a two-hundred-dollar suit.

  She walked down the hall to Ryan’s room. She could hear him singing “Rockin’ around the Christmas Tree” at the top of his lungs. She rapped on the door. “Ryan?” He didn’t answer. Maggie pushed open the door to find Ryan dancing on his bed. “Ryan,” she said, louder.

  He bounced around. He gave her a toothless grin. “Hi, Mom.”

  Maggie switched off the stereo. “I have to go out for a couple of hours. Scott’s going to stay here with you.” Ryan’s hair was standing straight up on his head. She tried to smooth down a particularly untidy cowlick.

  “Where ya’ going?”

  “To see a client.”

  “You look good,” he said. He sounded quite matter-of-fact.

  “Thanks.”

  Ryan bounced twice on the bed. “When will you be back?”

  “Before lunch.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why?”

  “Can Scott and me do something while you’re gone?”

  “I guess you can do whatever you can talk Scott into.”

  His eyes widened. “Wow.”

  Maggie kissed his forehead. “Be nice to him, Ryan. He’s new at this.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  Scott was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He was holding her briefcase and keys. “You look great.”

  She smiled at him. “I try.”

  He handed her the briefcase. “Have a nice day at the office.”

  “This is terribly domestic.”

  He swept her into a dramatic embrace, dipped her, and gave her a sound kiss. “Better?”

  Maggie laughed. “Yeah. Better.”

  “Do I get any last-minute instructions for the kid?” he asked.

  Maggie pulled her coat from the closet. “Don’t let him railroad you into anything.”

  Scott looked outraged. “Madam, I am perfectly capable of controlling a seven-year-old.”

  “Um-hmm.” She tossed the muffler around her neck. “I can’t wait to see what condition my kitchen is in when I get back.”

  “That’s not fair. He snuck up on me last time.”

  “Just watch your back, Cowboy.”

  On the long drive to Max’s estate, Maggie intermittently rehearsed what she was going to say and choked on panic Mark watched her from the passenger seat. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Maggie,” he warned.

  She turned down the volume on the radio. “And another thing, Mr. Wedgins,” she said, “I don’t think this process has been in the best interest of all parties involved. If you truly wished to plan a resort that would serve this community as well as utilize our best resources, you should have used a more open-ended bid process.”

  Mark rolled his eyes. She was in her “avenging angel” mode. “Now, Maggie, listen to me. You heard what Fortwell said. You practically have this in the bag. What are you trying to do to yourself by going up here to see Wedgins?”

  Maggie exited off the highway. “If you would be inclined to award the bid to an architect for any reason other than the viability of the project, then you have no business undertaking a project of these proportions.”

  “This is really dumb.”

  She muttered something beneath her breath. “That was dumb. Who am I to tell Max Wedgins what kind of projects he can undertake? The man has more money than God.”

  She parked in front of the steel gates of Wedgins’s estate. She tipped her head forward to rest it against the steering wheel. “I cannot believe I’m doing this.”

  “I can’t believe you are either,” Mark said. If he hadn’t been sure it was his imagination, he’d have sworn that Maggie frowned at him.

  A buxom redhead dressed in a well-tailored uniform, exited the security post to walk over to the Bronco. Maggie rolled down the window. “Can I help you, ma’am?” the young woman asked.

  Maggie looked at her name tag. “Connie. Yes, C
onnie, you can help me. I would like to see Mr. Wedgins.

  She checked his clipboard. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No. I just want to see him.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, ma’am, but Mr. Wedgins doesn’t—”

  “Look,” she paused, “Connie, I don’t want to cause any trouble, and I certainly don’t want to ruin your day, but it’s imperative that I see Mr. Wedgins. Would you just let him know that Maggie Connell is here, and she wants an appointment.”

  Connie shifted from one foot to the other. “Ms. Connell, I can’t—”

  “Connie, are you married?” Maggie asked suddenly.

  “Yes, ma’am. Got two kids.”

  “I’ll bet they’re girls. They’re girls, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She was starting to look wary.

  “Maggie, you’re scaring her,” Mark said. “She’s going to think you’re psychotic or something.”

  Maggie continued to look at Connie. “If something was so important to them and your husband that you were willing to drive all the way up here two days before Christmas to try and get an appointment with Mr. Wedgins, wouldn’t you be terribly upset if the security guard wouldn’t even ask?”

  She looked unsure. “But, ma’am—”

  “Are you going to get in trouble if you ask?”

  Connie shook her head. “I guess not.”

  “Okay then. I’ll make a deal with you. You ask, and if he says ‘no,’ I’ll leave. How’s that?”

  Connie gave her a reluctant smile. “All right, Ms. Connell. You wait right here.” Connie bounded off toward the security office. Through the tiny window, Mark could see her talking on the phone. After several long seconds, she leaned out the door and gave Maggie a broad smile. “He said ‘yes.’” Connie sounded shocked.

  Maggie waved at her. “Thanks, Connie.”

  The young woman pushed a button and the gates began to slide open. “Good luck, Ms. Connell,” she said as Maggie drove past her.

  Maggie clutched at the steering wheel. Mark’s head started to pound. “Maggie, what have I got to say to get you to turn around?”

  “I’ve got to go through with this.”

  “No,” he said. “No you don’t.”

  “I’ll just go in there, and I’ll tell him he’s a fool if he doesn’t give Scott’s designs a chance.”