by Nell Dixon
“He asked a few questions. The usual — can’t they cure you? Are you sure? Then he didn’t really say anything else.”
“Oh.”
Nathalie looked up at the disappointed note in Gemma’s voice. “Yeah. ‘Oh’ about sums it up. Still, I’m better off now, aren’t I? I mean, I won’t set myself up to get hurt all over again.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asked.
“I’m sure.” Nathalie resumed her polishing, determined not to cry in front of her friend.
Gemma looked out of the window. “I hate to make a bad day worse, but Karen’s coming.”
“It’s okay. I’ll deal with her.”
The shop bell jangled, and Karen breezed in. “Just thought I’d call and see how everything’s going. It’s the rehearsal and dinner on Wednesday, don’t forget.” She pulled her planner from her bag.
Nathalie tucked her duster out of sight and steered Karen across to the counter. “Everything is in hand. Are the bridesmaids coming tomorrow for their final fitting?”
“Yes. My fitting is right before the rehearsal, isn’t it?” Karen peered over Nathalie’s shoulder at the shop diary.
“That’s right. The seamstress will be here in case there’s any last-minute adjustments.” Nathalie snapped her diary shut so Karen couldn’t glean any information about the other clients.
The shop bell jangled again and a deliveryman came in with an enormous basket of dark red roses.
“Gorgeous!” Gemma and Karen exclaimed together.
“Delivery for a Miss Nathalie Mayer,” the man read from a clipboard he carried in his other hand.
“Tali, they’re for you,” Gemma breathed.
“Wow, you must have an admirer.” Karen’s face was alive with curiosity.
Nathalie quickly took the basket from the man. “Thank you.” She rested the flowers on the counter.
Karen and Gemma crowded around as the deliveryman left. “Open the card,” her assistant urged.
“Who are they from?” Karen asked.
Nathalie’s hand trembled as she slid the small white card from the envelope, even though she already knew whom they had to be from. “Evan!” Karen announced triumphantly before Nathalie had a chance to hide the card from view.
Nathalie pushed the card into the pocket of her jacket. “Can you take these through into the back of the shop please, Gemma?”
She looked puzzled. “I’ll put them in your office.”
“Just friends, hmm?” Karen queried.
“The flowers were a thank-you for something I’d given his daughter,” Nathalie fibbed. She didn’t want Karen to spread her private life all over town. Unfortunately, Nathalie had a feeling it might already be too late. The other woman had drawn her own conclusions.
“Are you bringing him to my rehearsal dinner?” Karen asked.
“I told you, no. We aren’t on those kinds of terms.” Nathalie flushed.
“Well, those flowers look to me like the kind a man sends to a woman when he wants to be on those sorts of terms.” Karen picked up her handbag, ready to leave. “Dark red roses? Please. Those are the flowers a woman gets the morning after a night well-spent with a man.” She nudged Nathalie’s arm. “And you look as if you didn’t get much sleep last night.” She swept off out of the shop.
Nathalie was left to stare after her in outraged silence. Gemma emerged from the back of the shop. “What did she say?”
“Oh, that woman! She drives me crazy!”
“What did the card say?”
Nathalie reached inside her pocket and pulled it out. Evan had written it himself — she recognised his penmanship and the distinctive fountain pen he always used. She read the message aloud. “‘We need to talk. Evan.’“
“You should call him,” Gemma advised.
The shop bell jangled again, and a woman accompanied by two excited little girls came in. Gemma went over to meet them. Nathalie stared at the card for a moment longer, then returned it to her pocket. More customers soon entered the shop. She had no choice but to put off her call till later.
Throughout the afternoon, Nathalie tried to work out what she would say to Evan when she did call him. All too soon, it was time to close. “Do you want me to stay while you lock up?” Gemma offered.
“No, it’s okay. You go.”
Nathalie saw her friend out and locked the door behind her. She fingered the card in her pocket as she walked into her office. The smell of the roses met her in the doorway, rich and dark. The petals were soft and velvety under her touch as she stroked the largest flower. It reminded her of Jenni’s wedding bouquet and the ridiculous superstition.
Before she could change her mind, Nathalie picked up the phone and dialled Evan’s number. Voice mail. She replaced the receiver on the handset without leaving a message. She still didn’t have any clear idea of what she wanted to say beyond thanking him for the bouquet.
****
Evan had switched off his mobile the minute he judged Laurel’s plane to have landed. He was thankful he wouldn’t need it for work over the weekend. Laurel would give him no peace if he left it on.
He wondered if Nathalie had liked her flowers. All day long he’d been kicking himself for his failure to react properly to the news about her condition. She had taken him by surprise, and by the time he’d recovered his wits, she had gone.
Polly knelt on a chair at the kitchen table with her colouring pencils. He admired her handiwork. “That’s a nice drawing.” The picture was of a man and a woman holding hands, with crowns on their heads. A drawing of a little girl with yellow hair, also wearing a crown, was next to them.
“That’s you and Nathalie getting married,” Polly explained. “I’m in my princess dress because I’m the bridesmaid.”
Evan swallowed. “Um... Poll, sweetheart, Nathalie and I are just friends. We aren’t getting married.” Even as he said the words out loud, he knew he wanted to marry Nathalie, had always wanted to marry Nathalie. The revelation quickened his pulse as it hit home like a thunderbolt.
“I saw you kiss her. I peeped round the door when she said goodnight. That means you’ll marry her,” Polly declared confidently. She began to colour in Nathalie’s hair with a black fibre-tip pen.
“Poll, it’s not that simple, okay?”
His daughter silenced him with a look and a shrug. At least he should be grateful that Polly didn’t want him to remarry Laurel.
He toyed with the idea of calling Nathalie, but he felt the initiative needed to come from her. If he pushed too hard, he could make everything worse. He rubbed his hand through his hair in frustration. The cases he dealt with in court weren’t as tricky to handle as Nathalie and his feelings for her.
The house phone rang, and he rushed to answer it, hoping it would be her.
“Your cell phone is off. I’ve been calling ever since I arrived.”
His heart sank as his ex-wife’s peevish tones hit his ear. “Hello, Laurel. Where are you?”
“I’m at this crummy country club. Thank goodness I’m only here for one night. Bring Polly over after breakfast,” she commanded.
“What time?” He knew Laurel seldom started her day early when she wasn’t working. “Breakfast” could mean any time up to twelve noon.
“About ten. Is she there now? Put her on.”
Evan gritted his teeth. “Polly, Mummy’s on the phone.”
Polly heaved a dramatic sigh and walked across the kitchen to take the receiver from him.
“Hello.” She listened for a while with a bored expression on her face. “We can go into town. Okay, see you tomorrow.” She hung up without handing the phone back to her father.
“Mummy’s going to take us into town for shopping tomorrow,” Polly announced and went back to her drawing.
“That’s nice.” Evan tried to put a positive spin on things. Polly liked to shop, and an outing in the fresh air might do her some good. The forecast for tomorrow was mild, so it shouldn’t trigger her coughing. The bi
g downside would be spending the day with Laurel.
****
Nathalie slept badly. All evening she had turned over in her mind what she planned to say to Evan, yet again without any success. She had picked the phone up several times to call him, but she’d lost her nerve each time. Consequently, by the time she’d gone to bed, her nerves felt as if they had gone through a cheese grater.
Min seemed to sense her mistress’s discomfort and mewled for attention. Nathalie was late leaving for the shop. Her appointment book was full — several brides and bridesmaids were due in to try on dresses. The seamstress and her Saturday staff were already inside the shop by the time Nathalie arrived.
“You don’t look as if you caught up on your sleep,” Gemma observed in a low voice as she shepherded Karen’s bridesmaids toward the fitting rooms.
Nathalie sighed. Her makeup techniques must’ve been slipping.
The previous night, it had been raining, so she’d left the roses at the shop. Their perfume filled the air. She’d moved them into the fitting area to make the place look nice. Already several customers had admired and commented on them.
She would have to phone Evan tonight, or maybe call and see him. It wasn’t like her to be a coward or to put unpleasant things off, but this was an exception.
It was almost lunchtime before she managed to escape into the back. The last of the morning’s customers were in the fitting area with the seamstress, and Gemma had just taken a deposit on a very expensive one-of-a-kind wedding dress. She made mugs of tea for herself and Gemma.
The shop bell jangled as she lifted the teabags from the mugs. Nathalie groaned, dropped the teabags into the bin, and went back onto the shop floor. As everyone else was occupied, it looked as though her cup of tea would have to wait.
“Nathalie!” A familiar blonde-haired little girl ran forward and hugged her around the waist.
Nathalie looked up from Polly’s excited face to see Evan accompanied by a woman whose face she’d seen on a hundred magazine covers. She was fair-haired like Polly and dressed more for a night on the tiles than an English market town’s high street on a Saturday afternoon.
“I brought Mummy to see your shop,” Polly explained.
Laurel extended an immaculately manicured hand. “My daughter insisted we come. I hope you don’t mind.”
Nathalie shook Laurel’s cool fingers and noted that the smile on Evan’s ex’s mouth didn’t reach her eyes.
“I told Laurel and Polly that Saturday wasn’t a good day to visit.” Evan’s arms were folded and his stance defensive.
“Oh, but this is such a sweet little shop,” Laurel cooed.
“Thank you,” Nathalie said as Polly slipped a small hand into hers. There was an uneasy atmosphere, and she had the feeling that this was no chance encounter.
“I met a friend of yours and Evan’s yesterday when I arrived at the hotel. She told me so much about you.” Laurel flicked her gaze up and down Nathalie’s figure. “Then when Polly suggested calling in — well, it would have been rude not to come and meet you. My daughter has been singing your praises all morning.”
A shiver ran up Nathalie’s back. She hadn’t imagined the ice in Laurel’s voice. It almost sounded as if the model was jealous. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I can’t imagine who you could have met.”
Laurel’s scarlet lips curved into a smile. “A woman called Carol or Karen or something like that. She was at the hotel as I checked in. She told me about the lovely roses Evan sent you. Very romantic.”
Evan’s expression darkened at Laurel’s words. Nathalie sucked in a breath. “You must mean Karen Gillespie. She’s a client of mine.” Nathalie tried to keep her voice even, though her legs shook as she wondered what else Karen could have said.
“Come on, Polly. I think we should be going now that we’ve said hello. She really is very busy.” There was a hint of impatience in Evan’s voice as he held out his hand to his daughter. His expression looked thunderous. Nathalie guessed that calling in to the shop had not been his idea.
“It was nice to meet you,” Nathalie said to Laurel. From the looks the model had given her, Nathalie was in no doubt that Laurel had called in specifically to warn her off Evan. Why, though, she couldn’t imagine, unless Laurel and Evan planned to get back together. That couldn’t be possible, could it? Not after everything Evan said about his relationship with his ex?
“The pleasure was all mine, believe me,” Laurel purred as she followed Evan and Polly out of the shop.
Chapter Ten
“Wow!” Gemma came across the shop and gave Nathalie a hug. “Are you okay? I thought you were going to pass out.”
“I’m fine. I’d like to get my hands on Karen’s scrawny neck, though.” Nathalie took a deep breath to try to calm her agitated pulse.
“I wouldn’t like to be in Laurel’s shoes if Evan gets hold of her out of his daughter’s sight,” Gemma observed.
“It’s Polly I feel sorry for.” Nathalie could see why Evan had applied for custody. She wouldn’t trust Laurel any further than she could throw her, based on what she’d just heard.
“Yeah, poor kid! What a witch!” Gemma shook her head as she walked away to return to her customers.
Nathalie retired to the back room and took a long draught of her tepid tea. Normally, Laurel would have caught the rough edge of her tongue, but Polly’s presence had made her keep her speech in check.
She finished her tea, wrinkling her nose in displeasure at the cold dregs. Gemma’s mug still stood on the counter. Nathalie poured the cold tea away and put the kettle back on. Her resolve hardened as she waited for the water to boil. That night, she would phone Evan and find out once and for all where she stood with him. She made her assistant a fresh drink, then went back onto the shop floor to relieve her.
It was late when Nathalie arrived home. A last-minute flurry of customers had kept all of them busy long after their usual closing time. She pulled her coat off in the hall. The answerphone was silent, the light still green. No messages.
She kicked off her shoes and wandered through to the kitchen. Min trotted across the tiled floor at the sound of the fridge door opening.
“I’m looking for something for my dinner, not yours,” Nathalie rebuked as she studied the contents of the shelves. She pulled out a block of cheese and some butter. “Looks like cheese on toast tonight, Min.”
She fixed her supper and sat down with her tray in front of the television. She’d just taken her first bite when the phone rang. She swallowed her mouthful of cheese as fast as she could. “Hello.”
“Nathalie, we need to talk.”
Her pulse pounded. “Evan, I was going to call you. Thank you for the flowers.” She ground to a halt, still unsure of how to word what she wanted to say.
“Laurel insisted on calling in on you today.” He spoke in a measured tone that she assumed he normally kept for the courtroom. “Polly had been singing your praises, and I think Laurel was curious about you. She came to tell us she’s moving permanently to California.”
She sighed. “About the other night—”
“I wanted to talk to you about that. You took me by surprise.” His voice sounded low and husky in her ear.
“Evan, you don’t have to explain anything.”
“I’ve been worried about you. I knew something was wrong when you pulled up outside your house the day we went to look at properties together. I didn’t know what it was — if you had financial problems, family problems, or something else. I didn’t like it.”
Nathalie nibbled on her lower lip in anxiety as he paused. “Evan, I think maybe this has all been a mistake.” She raced the words out in a hurry.
“I don’t follow you.” He sounded bemused.
“I meant you and me, renewing our friendship.” She hesitated. Relationship hadn’t been the right word, yet friendship wasn’t it, either. To her dismay, her voice thickened, and she choked on her words as she continued. “I can’t have children, Evan. I
can never give you the family you want, or brothers and sisters for Polly.”
“I see.”
“I think we should stop seeing each other, at least for a while.” She delved in her pocket for a tissue.
“Does this decision have anything to do with Laurel’s visit?” he demanded.
She dried her eyes quickly. “No. Although Polly seems to be getting quite attached to me.”
“And that’s a problem?” She heard ice in his tone.
“No. I mean, yes. Maybe.” What did she mean? She wasn’t sure what worried her most — Polly becoming too attached to her, or losing her heart to the little girl who’d held her hand so trustingly this afternoon.
“What are you trying to tell me, Tali?”
She wished she could see his face, explain what she meant. “I can’t do this anymore.” How could she explain how it had felt to have his daughter look at her with so much trust on her small face? What it did to her when Polly held her hand?
The line went dead. She listened to the disconnected buzzing and replaced the handset. He’d hung up on her. Her chest hurt as much as if she had received a physical wound.
She sat for a moment and waited to see if the phone would ring again before she pushed her plate aside. Her appetite had gone, replaced by a cold, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. What had she done?
Nathalie dashed the tears from her face then carried her plate of half-eaten toast to the kitchen, moving like an automaton. The metal lid of the bin clattered as she threw her scraps away. It was over. Gone. Her dream of a life with Evan and Polly disposed of as tidily as the crusts from her plate.
She wandered upstairs and swapped her tailored work suit for comfy cotton pyjamas. The elastic waistband felt soothing across her tense abdomen. Once changed, she gathered up her fleece blanket and headed back downstairs. She lowered the blinds against the sleet that drummed in the darkness and switched on her lamps. One more trip to the kitchen to gather her supplies of white wine and chocolate, and she installed herself on the sofa to watch a DVD of her favourite film.