But not even her precious daughter could distract Jodie from her dream. She gave Merrilee and Grant the grand tour of every nook and cranny of the old building. Grant left with a coating of dust and mixed feelings. Jodie’s work was cut out for her, but he’d never seen her so pleased or excited.
Merrilee had expressed delight over Jodie’s enterprise, but she hadn’t shown the slightest interest in participating, not even when Jodie had suggested she keep a running exhibit of her photographs in the shop.
Grant couldn’t fault Merrilee, however. She remained Jodie’s staunchest friend. When his sister had discovered she was pregnant at age fifteen and decided to keep her baby, Merrilee had stood beside Jodie, her support and loyalty never wavering, even when most of Jodie’s other friends had disappeared into the woodwork.
He’d hoped the offer of a partnership with Jodie would change Merrilee’s mind about not returning to Pleasant Valley, but he wasn’t ready to admit defeat. After all, he had the entire summer ahead to plead his case.
THE WET SWIPE of Gloria’s tongue across his face brought Grant roughly back to the present. A lot had changed in seven years. Jodie’s café and craft shop were thriving. Grant had his own home. His niece, Brittany, had grown into a teenage terror. And his usually down-to-earth partner was suffering a midlife crisis that threatened to ruin a story-book marriage.
What hadn’t altered was Merrilee’s refusal to remain in Pleasant Valley a minute longer than necessary. And, Grant realized with a start, neither had his own stubborn determination to change her mind.
Chapter Four
In her turret bedroom, MJ laid her head on Grant’s broad, tanned chest and entwined her bare arms and legs with his. He stroked her hair with a gentle hand and pressed his lips against her forehead.
“Everything’s going to be all right, Merrilee.” His deep voice rumbled through the muscles beneath her cheek. “You’ll see.”
She snuggled closer, taking comfort in his words and soaking up his body heat. “Are you talking about us or my parents?”
When he didn’t answer, her eyes flew open.
SHE FOUND HERSELF ALONE, her pillow clutched in her arms. She hadn’t dreamed about Grant in months and the experience left her dissatisfied, lonely and uneasy about the future.
The extraordinary quiet must have awakened her so early. Only the trill of a mockingbird in the sugar maple outside her window broke the silence now. She missed the constant growl of New York voices and the screech and grind of traffic on the street below her apartment, a cacophony she’d grown accustomed to over the years.
Staring at the ceiling, she analyzed why home didn’t feel like home. The house’s eerie quiet lacked its usual peacefulness and sense of refuge. Her thoughts swirled and her heart ached as she pushed aside remnants of the too real dream of Grant to contemplate the breach between her parents.
Yesterday afternoon, after Jay-Jay had recharged the battery on Nana’s car, MJ had driven her grandmother to Asheville. They’d lost their way twice before locating the forlorn complex of inexpensive student housing, badly in need of a gardener, new roofs and a coat of paint. MJ had shuddered, unable to imagine her mother with her fastidious taste and love of order and pretty things living in such a place. Both her parents had morphed into strangers in the months since she’d seen them last.
The dereliction of the off-campus property had been nothing compared to her mother’s distress. One look at Cat’s pale, stricken face when she opened the door informed MJ that her mother already knew the horrible news.
“Your father called this morning,” Cat explained after embracing her in a welcoming hug.
Anger surged through MJ; if her father had been in the room, she’d have smacked him. So totally unlike the man she’d loved and respected all her life, he hadn’t had the nerve or decency to tell her mother face-to-face about his terrible betrayal.
Maybe Nana and Grant were wrong and her dad really had gone bonkers.
“His callousness is consistent with his erratic behavior.” Nana’s tone was biting as she cleared a stack of books and papers from the faded sofa before taking a seat. “If Jim Stratton was in his right mind, he wouldn’t act so cowardly.”
Cat sank into a chair as if her body could no longer support itself. When she spoke, her voice was as limp as her muscles. “It’s not all Jim’s fault.”
Nana gazed at her sharply. “Don’t tell me you’ve been dallying, too.”
MJ caught her breath at her grandmother’s accusation and waited for her mother’s answer while the unfolding scenario grew more and more unreal.
“Don’t be silly, Mother,” Cat said with a weak smile. “I’m too busy working on my dissertation to have time for extracurricular activities.” Her expression crumpled, her usually cheerful countenance seemingly on the verge of tears. “That’s the problem. If I’d been home, looking after Jim as I’m supposed to, things would never have progressed this far.”
“Fiddlesticks,” Nana said heatedly. “Nothing excuses his behavior. He should know better.”
Cat shook her head. “He wasn’t himself when he spoke to me. He sounded strangely detached.”
“You need to come home, Mom,” MJ insisted. “Between the two of us—”
“I can’t come home,” Cat said with an uncharacteristic flatness to her usually bubbly voice. For a woman who’d often been mistaken for MJ’s sister, she appeared to have aged decades since MJ last saw her.
Nana bristled. “If your Ph.D. is more important than your husband—”
“That’s not it, Mother,” Cat said sadly. “I know Jim. If I confront him, his stubborn streak will kick in. The more we try to sway him from this Ginger Parker slut, the more determined he’ll be to prove he’s doing the right thing.”
MJ felt as if she were living in a bad dream. She had never considered her father the stubborn type, but then, she’d never thought of him as a philanderer, either.
“Mom, you can’t just stay here and do nothing,” she protested.
“I’ll be better off here,” Cat said with obvious unhappiness. “It’s as clear as the nose on your face that your father has blocked me and our marriage from his mind or he wouldn’t be acting this way.”
“You’re not going to fight?” MJ gazed at her mother with disbelief.
“Ginger Parker is clearly a woman with no morals or conscience,” Nana announced with distaste. “When you fight a skunk, even if you win, you come out stinking.”
Cat nodded. “I’ll have to wait for Jim to come to his senses. In the meantime, at least here I won’t have to face gossip and pitying looks.”
“What if he doesn’t come to his senses?” MJ said.
Panic filled her. Her parents’ perfect marriage had been like the Holy Grail, a standard she had aspired to if she ever married, a shining beacon of the best things in life. Recognizing the imperfections in a relationship she’d always considered ideal rocked her world like a 7.0 earthquake on the Richter scale.
“Don’t worry,” Nana assured them both. “This insanity is only temporary.”
“How can you be sure?” Cat looked hopeful for the first time.
“Jim Stratton’s a good man at heart,” Nana said. “His values are solid and run deep. When he slows down long enough to recognize his folly, he’ll come running back to you, begging your forgiveness.”
Cat frowned. “If I let him.”
“Mom!” MJ gasped with surprise.
Cat reached over and squeezed MJ’s hand. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I haven’t invested three decades of my life in this marriage to allow a cheap piece of New Jersey trash to ruin everything.”
“That’s the spirit.” Nana rubbed her hands together with satisfaction. “I knew there was some fight left in you. Now, let me tell you what Merrilee and I have planned.”
Her mother had listened to Nana’s proposal about the photographic essay and her spirits appeared to lift slightly, but when the trio had gone out to supper at a fast-food restaurant
afterward, Cat had only played with her food. After a promise by MJ to visit Cat often at her apartment, they’d said goodbye.
Upon returning to her parents’dark and empty home, MJ had been so depressed, she’d gone immediately to bed. If she hadn’t been exhausted from staying up the previous night, her worries would have kept her awake, but she’d dropped off instantly.
And dreamed of Grant.
She flung the covers back and strode toward the shower. Not only did she need to reconcile her parents quickly for their sakes, she had to get out of Pleasant Valley before Grant worked his magic on her again.
Gloria, she reminded herself. As long as Grant had a new love, he’d leave MJ alone.
Another reason to leave quickly, she decided. She didn’t want to hang around a minute longer than necessary to observe Grant’s newfound happiness.
AFTER BREAKFAST MJ drove through town and headed west. The peaceful, sheltered valley for which the town was named unfolded before her. Deep, lush grass filled the rolling pastures along the narrow, winding road that followed the meandering course of the Piedmont River, swollen with melted snow and frothing white as it rushed over its rock-filled bed. Mountains rose on either side of the valley, their slopes colored with the warm russets, silvery grays and earthy browns of trunks and branches thick with buds. Leaves would be bursting forth any day.
Her camera sat ready on the seat beside her and, although she passed several scenes that provided fantastic shots, MJ didn’t stop. She’d only be postponing the inevitable and she wanted to get through this initial awkward meeting with her father as soon as possible.
Conflicting emotions warred inside her. Anger for the pain he was causing her mother battled with pity for his emotional state that allowed such uncharacteristic behavior. MJ prayed she’d find the right approach. If she alienated her father, Nana’s scheme wouldn’t stand a chance of success.
The thought of having a stepmother named Ginger strengthened MJ’s resolve. And scared the living daylight out of her. She hoped she wouldn’t have to meet the woman. She didn’t trust herself to keep her anger and disgust under control.
Around the next river bend, MJ caught sight of the clinic, a long, low building of rustic clapboards with a green-metal roof. Behind were dog runs enclosed by chain-link fences and a matching barn and corral that included a quarantine area for large farm animals. Her father’s car wasn’t in the parking lot when she pulled in, but he often parked behind the barn, out of sight.
With a queasiness in her stomach, MJ left the car, climbed the front steps and entered the waiting room. Its only occupant was a middle-aged woman with a butterball of a Yorkshire terrier on her lap. There was also a young Irish wolfhound curled at her feet.
MJ crossed to the reception desk, separated by a sliding window from the waiting room, and rapped on the glass.
Fran Dillard slid the window open. “Merrilee June! What are you doing home?”
The elderly receptionist, who’d been with the clinic since its beginning, had no sooner spoken than she stammered in confusion to cover her gaff.
“I mean, it’s, uh, good to see you. It’s been over a year, hasn’t it?”
An intelligent woman who’d helped keep the business end of the practice running smoothly for three decades, Fran apparently had guessed why MJ had returned to Pleasant Valley.
MJ answered quickly to ease the receptionist’s discomfort. “It’s good to see you, too, Fran. Is Daddy with a client?”
Fran shook her head, then tucked an errant gray strand from her French twist behind her ear. Her brown eyes shimmered with unspoken sympathy but her tone was business-like. “He’s out of the office all day.”
“Oh.” MJ didn’t ask where, afraid Fran might say Ginger Parker’s.
“Is that you, Merrilee?” Grant’s voice sounded from one of the examining rooms.
She cursed silently at the corresponding flip-flop of her heart and took a deep breath before answering, hoping to sound nonchalant. “I came to see Daddy.”
“I have one more client.” Grant popped his head around a door, looking, if anything, even more attractive than he had yesterday in a beige British walking sweater with brown suede patches on the shoulders and elbows that matched the hue of his eyes. “Can you wait?”
“Sure.”
With her meeting with her father postponed, she had nothing else to do. And asking Grant her father’s whereabouts would be less embarrassing than asking Fran. Somehow not acknowledging her dad’s indiscretion to others made his treachery seem less real, even though she knew her attitude was irrational.
She settled into a chair in the waiting room and picked up an issue of Dog magazine. She was leafing through, admiring the artistry of the photographs, when she felt a pressure on her knee. The Irish wolfhound had left its owner and placed its head in MJ’s lap. The middle-aged woman didn’t appear to notice, so MJ petted the dog’s large regal head. Its soulful eyes locked on hers and she felt an instant kinship with the animal, as if it were telling her it understood her distress.
“Dr. Nathan will see you now, Mrs. Ware,” Fran announced.
The middle-aged woman with the Yorkie under her arm stepped through the door to the examining rooms and the wolfhound followed.
GRANT DISPATCHED Mrs. Ware and Bon-bon with strict orders to limit the canine’s food intake. The dog was aptly named. Its owner was constantly plying it with treats, which resulted in its creeping obesity.
According to Fran, his ten-thirty appointment was a no-show, so he was glad to have time for Merrilee. Thoughts of her had kept him awake last night. He’d been plagued for years by nagging questions she’d never answered about breaking their engagement, and he welcomed an opportunity to demand some answers and to get a few things off his chest.
He strode to the waiting room door. “Come on in, Merrilee. I’m free for a few minutes before my next appointment.”
Merrilee tossed aside the magazine she’d been reading and followed him down the narrow hall to his office.
Grant took satisfaction in the impeccable neatness of the small room with its bay window overlooking the barn. A handful of file folders lay on the desk beside the computer monitor, the only items not in their proper place. In uncharacteristic self-analysis, he wondered if he cultivated order in his office to make up for the shambles he’d made of his love life.
Merrilee sat in the leather club chair he offered and he settled in the one behind his desk. She wore her pale blond hair in an alluring French braid. Dressed in designer jeans, calf-hugging boots that looked like Italian leather, and a navy cable-knit sweater that accented the blue of her eyes, she retained the wholesome good looks of a homecoming queen. Her years in NewYork, however, had added a polish of sleek sophistication, creating a knock-out effect.
She surveyed his office with a quick glance. “I’d forgotten how organized you are.”
“You make it sound like a vice.”
She shrugged. “Not unless you’re compulsive about it.”
“I like to think of myself as amazingly efficient.” He noted the smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes and the tired slump of her shoulders. Damn. Now definitely wasn’t the time for confrontation. His questions would have to wait. “You okay?”
Merrilee appeared to fight back tears. “Seeing Mom last night was tough.”
“How’s she holding up?”
“Not well. She put up a brave front for Nana and me, but I can tell she’s devastated. Where’s Daddy?”
“Thompson’s dairy. He’s vaccinating the herd. It’s an all-day job.”
“So he’s not avoiding me?”
“He’s not aware you’re in town, as far as I know. You sure you’re okay? You look pale.”
“I’d psyched myself up for seeing him, hoping to spend the day with him. Now I’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”
“Merrilee—” He paused, uncertain how to continue.
“Yes?” She lifted her gaze and he felt himself drowning in her sad blue eyes
.
“Forget it. Your family dilemma isn’t any of my business.” After all, Grant was no longer family.
She cocked her head in an appealing little-girl fashion he remembered so vividly. “Nana dragged you smack into the middle of this, whether you want to be or not. That gives you the right to speak your mind.”
He took a deep breath and dived in head-first. “I’m worried about you.”
“Me? Daddy’s the one with the problem.”
Grant shook his head. “You know how you are, Merrilee June.”
“MJ.”
“Whatever,” he said with exasperation.
She arched an eyebrow. “How am I?”
“You’re a patron saint of lost causes.”
She bristled before his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean.”
“Admit it,” he said gently. “You’re always off on some crusade. As early as middle school, you were recruiting Jodie to help you protect the rain forests or save the whales.”
Her eyes flashed blue fire. “And we did some good. Don’t forget, we kept the city from tearing down the old railroad depot. It’s the historical society museum now, thanks to our efforts.”
He nodded to concede her point. “But your campaign to ban fur coats turned out differently.” He couldn’t contain his grin.
She scowled. “What’s so funny?”
“The only woman in Pleasant Valley who owned a fur coat was your nana.”
“She still owns it,” Merrilee admitted with a rueful smile.
“That’s what’s so funny.” Grant’s grin faded. “But this scheme you and your grandmother have hatched is much more personal than your other crusades. I don’t want you hurt if it fails.”
Merrilee’s back stiffened and her chin jutted at a defiant angle. “It has to work.”
Grant fought the urge to round the desk and pull her into his arms. She was determined to save Jim from the clutches of the “other woman,” but Grant wasn’t sure his partner wanted saving. If Jim had been thinking clearly, he wouldn’t be in Ginger Parker’s clutches in the first place.
Almost Heaven Page 5