“Well, I can see you need packing boxes, so I might as well start out by making a chore run. You have a list of stuff you need while I’m out? Either of you start any gossip without me and you die. Gwen, don’t you lift anything.”
“Will you lay off? I’m not pregnant.” Gwen’s voice was increasingly muffled as she opened and closed cupboards.
“Her stomach’s queasy,” Paige whispered to Abby. “I think she is. And I’m guessing she and Spense aren’t going to settle for less than double the size of brood they have now. Now, about that list…”
The hours passed so fast that Abby could hardly catch her breath. She liked to think she could outwork a draft horse, but her sisters together made a familiar and unbeatable team. In unison, they started singing old dirty rock-and-roll lyrics and fell into fits of giggling in different rooms. Questions were yelled from two stories. The insults never quit. The place started smelling of bleach and disinfectant—and a bubbling French stew from the kitchen.
Gwen served dinner on the carpet in the living room, picnic-style, with crusty Italian bread and a crunchy fresh salad. By then, all three of them were comatose—but not too tired to talk. They caught up on family news, made time to call Mom and Dad, then ran the traditional female gamut from breast feeding and labor to sex and PMS.
Somewhere in the middle of the chatterfest, Gwen jogged back to the kitchen and returned with three paper cups and the fanciest bottle of wine in Abby’s rack. “It’s this or aspirin. Every muscle in my body is creaking and groaning,” she complained.
“You never drink wine,” Abby reminded her.
“Yeah, Spense teases me that my favorite hard liquor is O.J.” She battled with the corkscrew. “But I can suffer through a glass.”
“I can suffer through more than one.” Paige glanced around. “We’ve still got one full day’s hard work to go, but I think you’ll be in pretty good shape after that.”
“More than good shape—thanks to you, too,” Abby said honestly.
As soon as Gwen had it open, Paige absconded with the bottle and poured her oldest a walloping full glass. “I still think it’s stupid to U-Haul your stuff to a rented storage space here. You could truck it east just as well. Plenty of room in the attic, and Vermont’s home. Real home. A good place to heal and recharge your juices. Stefan’ll feed you chocolate and vodka and fatten you up. You can loll around—”
Gwen interrupted. “You’ve got a new baby, how would she get any rest? I think she should come home with me. How can you beat a vacation in Florida? Ocean breezes. White sands. Two nephews and a niece to keep you laughing, lots of nice, healing sun. You could stay as long as you wanted—”
“Stop, both of you,” Abby said desperately. Putting a thousand miles between herself and Gar hadn’t helped. He was still invading her sleep, her dreams, her every waking moment. But it seemed the height of black irony that it was Gar who’d sicced her sisters on her.
He hadn’t sent a rescue team. He’d sent a bomb squad.
“Abby…” Paige paused to dip the bottle back in her cup. She’d only taken a sip—and she’d noticed that neither sister had even touched hers. “We can do this easy or we can do it hard, but we’re not leaving here—or leaving you—until we get a guarantee in blood that you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.”
“And cows like bubble bath. Talk to us.”
Abby dragged a hand through her hair and, because there was obviously no escape, tried talking. “You two…I’m so proud of you both. You’re doing so great with your lives, balancing work, kids, house, your men. Love. Neither of you seem to have any doubts about what you want.”
“Maybe I’ve got it straight now,” Gwen said, “but two years ago I had a real soul-searching stretch.”
“So did I,” Paige concurred. “But you were always the one who was dead sure what you wanted, Abby.”
“I know. And that’s just it. I had it easy, because business always came so naturally to me. I had the ambition and drive, the need to achieve. Only when I was fired…I felt like I’d sold myself a lie. Because everything that mattered so much to me suddenly seemed like a rhinestone instead of a diamond.”
“Explain.” Gwen refilled her cup this time.
“I just started to realize that what drove me so hard for so long wasn’t really ambition. It was that I felt safe, working. I knew the rules. I was good at it. Because when it came down to women’s things…” She took a breath. “Gwen, you were always a born mom, fantastic with kids. And Paige, you had your art, but even more than that, you always seemed so sure of yourself as a woman. Independent. Comfortable making your own rules.”
“Keep talking,” Paige ordered.
“I can’t bake cookies. I can’t do crafts.”
“Well, hell. No wonder you’re depressed. Those are giant failures,” Paige said dryly.
“I can’t do men, either.”
“Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere,” Gwen put in. “You know how often you’ve given us great advice on men? Like with my Spense—and Paige’s Stefan.”
“But that’s different I always got along fine with men, working with them, competing with them. I like that whole half of the species, for Pete’s sake. But being one of the guys was part of the problem. Because I didn’t want to be one of them. I wanted to be me. But on the inside, I always felt…flawed. Unfeminine. Like something was missing, because I could never seem to do any of the traditional women things well…why are you two looking at each other?”
“Is she talking about sex?” Paige asked Gwen.
“Were you born yesterday? How long have we been sisters? Of course she’s talking about sex,” Gwen said impatiently. And then, to Abby: “You’re a doofus for not telling us this before. I watched you push away every guy who tried to get too close. I just didn’t understand why. So. You were especially scared of screwing up when the lights went off-—how’d that go with Gar?”
“Fine.”
“Clarify fine.”
“All right. It went damn well splendiferous.” Cripes, the two of them were more relentless than hounds. And the wine, Abby knew, was starting to go straight to her head. “That part was wonderful. But it doesn’t mean I have the first clue how to make a real relationship work. Or that I’m good for him. And lately it seems like I’ve failed at everything I’ve tried to do—”
“Get specific,” Paige ordered. “What specifically have you failed at? Besides making cookies.”
She didn’t know how to sum it up except simply. “Being strong.”
“Well, get a noose,” Paige said to Gwen. “That’s certainly a hanging offense. Everyone else in the universe, of course, is always strong all the time.”
“You don’t understand. He had someone before. A woman whose signature tune was ‘Lean on Me.’ It’s the last thing he needs. Another woman who doesn’t have her head straight, who can’t seem to even make up her mind where she’s going next…”
“I get it now. Because you’re in the process of making a major life change, it means you’re no good to anyone right now. Worthless. Useless. A total turkey. No one anyone could love.”
“You’re making fun.” Abby gulped down a little more wine. “But there’s more to the picture.”
“So tell us.”
“Honesty matters to him. Gar’s just the kind of man who values integrity to the bone. And honesty seemed to be the one thing I couldn’t give him. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I’d been fired, or this whole failure thing I’ve been going through…”
“Why?” Paige asked bluntly. “What do you think would happen, what’s the worst-case scenario you can think of, if you laid a little of that honesty at his feet?”
Abby wrapped her arms around her knees and held on tight. “I don’t know. He could lose his respect for me. He could change his mind about ever caring for me. I don’t know how to explain this, but everything was different with him. With him, I was more…the woman I wanted to be. But I never believed h
e saw the woman I really was.”
When Gwen started to speak, Paige put a quelling hand on her arm. Her voice turned sober, quiet. “So we’re down to pay dirt. You think you’ve been lying to him all this time? Fooling him that maybe you’re a better or a different woman than you really are?”
Abby swallowed. “Yes. Exactly.”
“Then I think you’re being selfish, sis,” Paige said frankly.
“Selfish?” Abby had been wallowing in guilt about everything she’d done wrong from here to Sunday, but selfishness was the one sin her conscience seemed clear of.
“Uh-huh. It’s obvious that the man seriously cares. He would hardly have tracked us down if he didn’t. Maybe breaking it off is the best thing, but it’d be selfish not to talk to him first. You think he’s fallen in love with this mistaken image of an incredibly wonderful and loving woman. God knows how he could have gotten an insane idea like that, but the point is…you left him hanging.”
A fist squeezed her heart so tight she could hardly breathe. “I never meant to do that. Hurting him is exactly what I was trying not to do in any way—”
“Well, you did. For all you know, he’s sitting there in Tahoe, blaming himself for whatever went wrong. If you really want to let him off the hook, the kindest thing would be to lay some of this stuff on the line. Give him the truth about what a terrible, hopeless failure of a woman you are. You’d be giving him a reason to be glad it’s over.”
Abby clawed a hand through her hair again. “Sheesh. I never once thought of it that way, that I was being selfish.”
When Abby’s head was averted, Paige delivered a high five to Gwen—but she kept talking in that sin-cere-as-a-judge voice. “Sometimes it takes a sister to deliver the cold hard truth. We hate to be hard on you, but there it is.”
“No, no. I’m glad you were hard on me. I needed it…” Abby climbed unsteadily to her feet, her mind so wine-muzzy she was weaving. “But I wouldn’t try taking that con routine on the road.”
“Con?” Gwen was the best at expressing innocent shock at the accusation.
“I saw the high five. I watched you two pouring wine down my throat. Did you forget I’m the oldest? I taught you two everything you ever tried to pull on me. Thanks, you two. I love you. But for heaven’s sakes, let’s call this quits and hit the sack.”
Both sisters said, “Abby…” in unison.
“I’m going back to Tahoe. I’m going to see him. I promise.”
It was all she had to say to squelch any further serious talk. The three of them mass-exodused toward the stairs and bed, all so beat they were stumbling on their feet. When the lights were out, though, Abby couldn’t stop thinking about her return to Tahoe.
And what she needed to say to Gar.
Chapter Fourteen
It was late afternoon when Abby turned into the lodge parking lot, her pulse thumping with nerves and her palms slick with anxiety. When she parked the car and climbed out, the wind tore at her face, mean as a wolfs teeth. A fresh snow glinted on the ski slopes, glistening like a glaze of whipped cream.
As if she owned the place and had a vested interest, her gaze automatically counted the number of cars and bodies milling around. A good cash day for Gar. The true hard-case skiers went manic after a fresh snowfall, and they couldn’t care less about a little cold. Neither did she. She seemed to have hopelessly lost her heart to Tahoe.
If she had a critical problem with cold feet, it had nothing to do with the weather.
Head down, jaw firmed, she forced her coward’s cold feet to make fast tracks toward the main lobby of the lodge. She was well aware her sisters believed they’d talked her into this, and in Abby’s unbiased opinion, Cinderella had had nice sisters compared to hers. Both her younger siblings had a shameful ruthless streak—calling her selfish and unkind, using guilt to manipulate her into seeing Gar again.
They loved her. So much that Abby didn’t have the heart to tell them that they’d never talked her into anything.
She’d always intended to come back. Always planned on seeing Gar again. Abby had never failed to own up to her mistakes before, and she couldn’t have lived with herself if she ran away from this one. She’d hurt Gar by her failure to be honest with him. There would always have come a point when that had to be made right, no matter what it cost her…no matter what it lost her.
The Los Angeles trip might have postponed this confrontation with Gar, but that part of her life also needed a period at the end of the sentence. The last of her ties there were now severed, and the few things she’d put in storage could stay there indefinitely. L.A. was where she’d started making the mistakes that were still haunting her now. Going back, rubbing her nose in it, had made those mistakes infinitely clearer. More to the point, that entire distraction was now out of the way.
She opened the door to the lobby. The blast of warm air was as comforting and soothing as hope.
But this wasn’t about hope. It was about taking a risk so scary that her stomach was clenched in panic-size knots. The taste in her mouth had the flavor of dread. She thought of the black-and-white cameo her sister had made her and reminded herself—for the dozenth time—that some things were black-and-white. There was no compromising the kinds of truth that really mattered.
And love, she’d irrevocably discovered, was one of those truths.
She ditched her jacket on the coat rack off the lobby, ran a fast brush through her hair and smoothed the red sweater she was wearing over jeans. The casual attire was a far cry from the dress-for-success maxim she used to live by. But that was her old life. And for Gar, especially this time, no prettying up the package would do. She needed to be just herself.
As she strode through the lobby toward the stairs, Simpson screeched an exuberant greeting and a few others yelled out hellos. Having a familiar face was an advantage; no one stopped her or asked where she was going or why. She flashed back a smile for everyone, but her heart was slamming, Don’t you fail this. No matter what you failed before, you have to do this right. You have to find a way.
Late afternoon, Gar was likely to be in his office, busy, but taking care of paperwork, rather than people problems. She’d considered his usual work routine before choosing the time. If she mucked up, she could escape quickly—and so could he, with the ready-made excuse of a piled-up desk if he wanted her gone.
She was badly afraid that a little absence had given him time to think. Time to consider that his life was a lot more peaceful without her in it. Maybe it was too late to ask him to listen. May be…he wouldn’t want to see her at all.
That dread pulse was kicking hard as she rounded the corner into his office. At a glance, she noticed the inner office door was closed—which was definitely peculiar. Gar never closed that door; he felt too strongly about being accessible to his staff. But Robb was typically installed at his desk, neck-deep in spreadsheets and payroll and papers. The white teeth of a grin showed through his bushy black beard. “Hey. You’ve been missed, ma’am.”
“What, you couldn’t find anyone else to fight with for a couple of days?”
“No one who’s as much fun to argue with as you. Good to see you back.”
“Thanks.” She motioned toward the closed door. “I just wanted to see Gar for a few minutes, but I don’t want to interrupt him if he’s busy or in the middle of something important—”
“He’s in there.” Something gleamed in Robb’s eyes beyond a welcoming hello. “And trust me, it’s a perfect time for you to go in.”
When she hesitated—surely Gar had the door closed for a reason?—Robb bounced out of his office chair and, thoroughly startling her, draped a brotherly arm around her shoulders. For a couple seconds, she was so curious about what motivated the sudden, comradelike hug that she wasn’t conscious of being steered. As silent as a mouse, Robb turned the knob on Gar’s office door. He didn’t precisely shove her—more pushed her inside. By the time she realized the door was click-closing behind her, she was inescapably in.
Her first thought was of murdering Gar’s executive assistant. Maybe via boiling in oil, or red ants. Plotting a gruesome murder for Robb would have given her a great deal of satisfaction, but at that precise moment, she couldn’t indulge the time for it.
Gar was in his office. But he wasn’t alone.
Although Janet was standing at the window, her face turned away, Abby easily recognized his ex-wife. The perfume scent pervading the office was sweet, soft spring flowers instead of Obsession, but the thick froth of brunette curls was easily recognizable. Her showcase figure was decked out in a lace blouse and slim skirt, nothing sultry or low-cut this time. Abby recognized well enough when a woman had worked to put together an image. This one was vulnerable, not seductive. And so was the voice.
Abby was only frozen in the doorway for a few seconds. Escaping at the speed of light—and preferably before either of them noticed her—was her first and obvious choice of action. Whatever her plan for conversation and confrontation with Gar, this obviously wasn’t the time. She’d never have chosen to awkwardly intrude on a meeting between him and ex-wife. And none of those obvious conclusions took more than a few milliseconds to register in her mind, but in the same heart-hiccuping few moments, she heard that helplessly sweet, soft voice.
“I can’t make it alone, Gar. I never could. I just could never be strong the way you are, and you know I can’t turn to my family. You’re the only one I could possibly ask for help.”
“Look, Janet. It’s not that I’m unwilling to help you, but if the reason you’re in debt is because of drugs again—”
“I’m not using anything now. It was just a small setback, and I’m trying as hard as I know how…but I need help, Gar. I’ll never ask you for money again, I swear. But I’m in trouble, and I just can’t handle it alone…”
Gar was also standing at the window, rubbing the back of his neck, when he suddenly pivoted around and saw her.
Damn. Abby’d known before this that he owned a corner of her heart, but it was as if she hadn’t breathed the whole time she was in L.A. Not air that mattered. Not the kind of air that sustained life.
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