by Beverly Farr
Apparently Ted was well known and trusted in the company, for she picked up a telephone receiver, pressed a button, and spoke into it. “Mr. Landon, there is a woman named Ginny Russell to see you.”
From the five feet distance between her and the secretary, Ginny couldn’t hear Derek’s response through the phone. Would he see her? Ted seemed to think so, but Ted had always been an optimist.
“He’ll be with you in a few minutes,” the woman said calmly. “Please be seated.”
Ginny sat in a large, overstuffed chair. She tapped her fingers on the armrest, then stopped as she saw Ted watching her.
After ten minutes, he said, “Hey, I’ve got to run, but it’s been great seeing you. Maybe sometime you and Derek can visit me and Claire. We’ve got three kids now. I know Claire would love --”
Ginny shook her head. “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Ted frowned. “But I thought you and Der–--”
“No,” she cut him off before he could say more. “I’m just here to talk to him for a few minutes, nothing more.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “Well, it’s still great to see you.”
Ginny watched him leave. Good old Ted. He’d been a great friend to Derek in college -- hiring him to write computer programs, lending him a car when he needed one. She was glad Derek had found a way for them to work together again.
Finally the door to Derek’s office opened and several people wearing suits left. Ginny stood and straightened her shoulders. Here I go, she thought. Straight into the lion’s den.
#
Derek steeled himself before walking out of his office. Ginny was here, in his territory, and he was going to keep the upper hand. He wasn’t going to let his guard down and kiss her like he did the last time they spoke.
She didn’t smile when she saw him. She wore a flowery skirt and short sleeved sweater, the color of her eyes. He saw that her hair was a little longer than nine years ago. She wore it straight down today, and it brushed her shoulders. Hell, she was beautiful.
Don’t go there, Landon.
“Ginny,” he said pleasantly. “I’m sorry you had to wait. But you know lawyers. Sometimes it’s difficult to shut them up.”
She didn’t exactly smile, but her eyes gleamed with amusement. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them?”
“Exactly.” He turned to his secretary. “See that we aren’t disturbed.”
“Yes sir.”
He welcomed Ginny into his office. “At least here, you can sit down.”
She surveyed the large room with its wall of floor to ceiling windows, then sat down on a black leather couch. “Nice,” she murmured.
She crossed her slim legs and he made himself look away. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Do you have iced tea?”
“I’ll get you some.” That was one of the cultural differences he’s discovered since moving to Texas. In California, people drank more mineral waters. Here, they drank more iced tea. He spoke to his secretary. Ginny waited, saying nothing, swinging one foot, until the drink arrived.
She had changed, he realized. The old Ginny would have come in talking, wanting to solve the problem immediately.
The new Ginny waited until his secretary had closed the door. She sipped her drink, then placed it on a coaster on a side table and said, “You’ve put an invitation to my wedding up for sale.”
There was no point in denying it. “Yes.”
“I’m asking you to withdraw the auction.”
“No.”
She leaned forward. “It’s not worthy of you, Derek. It smacks of revenge. It’s petty and mean.”
“Nothing’s petty to a man who’s willing to sell his grandmother.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not? At least I know what you think of me.”
Ginny hesitated. He could guess what she was thinking. She was trying to be honest, yet trying not to offend him further.
He said, “It always comes back to that necklace, doesn’t it?”
“Just because you’re not sentimental doesn’t mean –”
“It was a only a gesture. Howard Russell went off with his second wife, started his new family and forgot all about you.”
“Miranda had full custody. She wouldn’t let him have access --”
“He didn’t even try.”
She stiffened. “You don’t know that.”
Derek was tired of being made the bad guy for telling the truth. “So, after years of ignoring you, his conscience strikes him, and he sends you a trinket for your sixteenth birthday. It was meaningless. It assuaged his guilt, nothing more.”
“Don’t you dare judge him.”
“Was he ever there for you? Did he ever try to contact you? Did he even mention you in his will?” Derek shook his head. There was nothing to be gained by talking about it. Ginny was completely blind when it came to her parents. “Do you know what your problem is?”
She folded her arms in front of herself defensively. “No doubt you want to tell me, so go ahead.”
“You are oblivious to the relationships around you. You keep pretending that the people who don’t love you, do, and not appreciating those who do.”
She sniffed. “Then you must be glad to be rid of me.”
Was he glad? A month ago, he would have said yes, but now, he couldn’t tell.
She reached down to get her purse, then stood to go. “I’m wasting my time here.”
“Maybe not.”
“I don’t want to argue any –--” She paused as she realized what he had said. “What did you say?”
“Maybe you aren’t wasting your time.”
“Meaning?”
Careful, Landon. “I will withdraw the auction under one condition.”
Ginny beamed. “Now you’re talking. What’s your condition? Cookies, cakes? I’ll bake you whatever dessert you want. Name it.”
“Since when could you cook?”
“I’ve learned a few things over the years.”
“I’m glad. I remember eating a lot of dried out meatloaf and burned eggs.”
“That’s not fair. You were just as much to blame as I was -- if not more.”
He smiled, remembering. “That’s right. I had a bad habit of distracting you whenever you were cooking.” He used to sneak up behind her and kiss her neck when she was working. After one of those stealth kisses, she had splattered spaghetti sauce all over the kitchen, and then in retaliation, she had chased after him with a wooden spoon. By the time they remembered dinner, they hadn’t cared what it tasted like.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Where was I? Oh yes, as tempting as your culinary skills may be, I had something bigger than a few brownies in mind.”
Her eyes widened, then she snapped, “I won’t sleep with you, if that’s what you’re thinking!”
He laughed. So Ginny wasn’t as cool and emotionally detached as she pretended to be. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, then corrected himself. “At least not as part of a trade ––”
She flushed red.
“I want you to decorate my house.”
“No.”
“Don’t be so hasty. I thought we agreed to be friendly acquaintances. Think about it. It’s a reasonable request. I have a big empty house that needs furniture and rugs, and whatnot, and you’re the expert.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You said you already had a decorator.”
“I did, but after we spoke, I decided to hire someone else.” He smiled wryly. “Until you mentioned it, I hadn’t noticed how -- purple -- my office was.”
Ginny glanced around. “It works here. He did a good job. Your office has a very calm, regal feeling.”
A calm feeling as long as Ginny didn’t come to visit, he mentally added. “Thank you, but upon reflection I decided that I’d like a different feeling in my house. And I want you to create it.”
Ginny’s cell phone started vibrating. She
ignored it. If it was important, they’d leave a message. She said, “You don’t want me to decorate your house. For all you know I’ll make the place look like a Roman bath house with fake fountains and chaise lounges.”
The visual picture her words created was not unappealing, especially if she were in the Roman bath house with him. He wouldn’t mind lying on a lounge with her feeding him grapes. “You might be tempted to do that out of revenge, but I don’t think you’d stoop so low.”
“Try me.”
“You’re too much of a professional. You wouldn’t risk having me tell all my friends that you had done the work.”
She bit her lip, considering. She knew he was right.
“Besides, I’ve spent some time the past few days reading your website, looking at your work. I think your style and my personality will be a good match.”
“It’s out of the question.”
“What’s the real problem? Is my house too big for you? Is it too much of a challenge?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what is it? Give me one good reason why you won’t trade.”
She hesitated, as if hunting to come up with a viable excuse. “The monetary value of my designer services outweighs the value of the invitation,” she said finally.
“That remains to be seen. Last I saw, bids for the invitation was close to a thousand dollars. Who knows how high they might go? But the monetary value is irrelevant. It is the emotional value I’m trading.”
“It’s blackmail.”
“Call it what you like. But if you’re worried about the money, I’ll pay your standard designer fee.”
He could tell that she was tempted, but something held her back.
“I’m only asking for a few weeks of your time, Ginny,” he persisted.
“It will take longer than that to decorate your house.”
“I only have three weeks.”
“What’s the rush?”
Make it sound good, Landon. “Texas Business is doing an article on me and I’d like some pictures of me in my house rather than the office. Think of the great publicity it would be for you. And you can be done before you go off with Phillip on your honeymoon.”
She considered the matter for a moment. “No. We drive each other crazy as it is. If we worked together, we’d kill each other. I won’t do it.”
He wouldn’t push the conversation any further. “Your choice,” he said and leaned back in his chair. “Do you have any recommendations for some other designers I could use?”
“I’ll email you a list,” she said coolly. Once again she turned to leave.
Derek cleared his throat. “I have one more question.”
She looked over her shoulder, impatient to be gone.
“Why did you send me an invitation in the first place?”
She seemed surprised. “I didn’t. Miranda invited everyone on Adele Circle.” Her eyes narrowed. “You thought I had sent it. That I had some underlying motive -- like I was taunting you or something?”
“It crossed my mind.”
“And in response, you decided to sell the invitation. But why -- to get back at me, or to show me that it was meaningless to you?”
“A little bit of both,” he said slowly.
Ginny pressed her point. “But now that you know I didn’t send the invitation, will you withdraw the auction?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged, not wanting to give her any more ammunition. “You know the answer. You said it yourself: I’ll sell anything.”
#
Ginny sat in her car for a few minutes, trying to collect her thoughts. Derek wouldn’t give up the auction. She had known from the beginning that asking him to withdraw it was a long shot. Derek would do whatever he wanted, regardless of her wishes. She didn’t like the idea of her photograph and the information about her wedding being online, but it wasn’t too far different from the announcement of her engagement in the newspapers and on the websites. If she were lucky, only a few people would notice the sale.
As for her mother, well, Miranda would just have to deal with it. After being married four times, she should be immune to idle gossip.
Then there was the other matter -- decorating his house. Although working for Derek would be a nightmare, she had to admit she was tempted by the challenge. She had thought about his house and how to decorate it ever since she had seen it two weeks before, but to see him on a daily basis -- that was asking for trouble.
She checked her cell phone and saw that Charlotte had texted when she was in Derek’s office. She pressed the redial button and waited for her secretary to answer.
“Innovative Designs,” Charlotte began.
“What’s up?” Ginny asked.
“Oh, Ginny, it’s a mess. The bank called. They’ve put a hold on our checking account.” She sounded like she was going to burst into tears.
“How could that happen?”
“Apparently one of those checks I deposited bounced, and now we’re bouncing, too.”
Ginny winced. “All over town? How many bad checks are we talking about?”
“I don’t know what to do.” Charlotte wailed.
“Don’t panic,” Ginny said with more confidence than she felt. “I’ll be back at the office within twenty minutes. I’ll go over the account with the bank and I’ll see what I can do.”
This is what comes from living too close to the edge, Ginny thought dismally as she drove to her office. The bad check fees would eat them alive, and it was disastrous for her reputation. She didn’t want her suppliers to think she was unreliable.
She’d need money fast. She didn’t have much savings; she’d been reinvesting everything into the business. And a bank wouldn’t mortgage her condo overnight.
But maybe it wasn’t as bad as Charlotte thought, she told herself bravely.
An hour later she knew it was worse. She had to exhaust her line of credit to take care of the problems and now she had no more funds to operate Innovative Designs. She was wiped out.
Charlotte knocked on the doorframe. “How does it look?” she asked.
Ginny made a face. “Not good.”
Charlotte said, “If it will help any, you can put a hold on my automatic deposit.”
For a moment, her generosity overwhelmed her. Charlotte was a single mom; Ginny knew how tight her budget must be. She remembered what Derek had said about her not valuing the people that really loved her. She blinked back tears. “No, thanks for the offer, but no.” She smiled grimly. “It’s your money, you’ve earned it.”
“Is it time for me to start pounding the pavement?”
Ginny took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Give me the weekend, okay? I’ll let you know on Monday what I’m doing.”
“Fair enough,” Charlotte said. “But it just doesn’t seem right for you to do all the work and not get paid for half a year. And then when you are paid, for the check to bounce.”
Ginny nodded. “It may have been an honest mistake. To many of my clients, ten or twenty thousand dollars is pocket change.”
“I’d like to have that kind of pocket change,” Charlotte said wryly. “Good night, Ginny.”
“Good night.”
That evening, she told Phillip her situation after dinner. He was astounded. “I thought Innovative Designs was doing well.”
“It has done well, but the past six months have been slow, and my overhead hasn’t changed.”
“You’ve talked to Miranda, naturally.”
Ginny stiffened. “No, I haven’t.”
“Why not? She’s the first person to go to.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you would help.”
“Me?” Phillip looked dumbfounded. “I could raise ten thousand dollars by Monday, but my stock portfolio isn’t doing very well this quarter, and I wouldn’t want to go into debt for your business. Especially if it’s not doing well, as you say. It’s never a good i
dea to throw good money after bad.”
That was a practical answer, but it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Irrationally, she’d wanted him to believe in her, to risk something to help her. After all, he was going to be her husband in less than a month. Shouldn’t he want to help her -- for better or worse?
She realized, belatedly, that in all their pre-nuptial conversations, they had never discussed money. Phillip drove a fifty thousand dollar car, he owned a large house in one of the better Dallas neighborhoods. He must earn a good salary from the University, but beyond that, she didn’t know his assets and liabilities and he certainly didn’t know hers. Maybe it was time for them both to come clean, financially.
“Talk to Miranda,” he said again. “I’m sure she’ll transfer enough funds to tide you over.”
Was he saying that it was fine for Miranda to waste her money because she had so much, but not for him? Ginny frowned. “You don’t understand. If I ask her for money, I’ve given up. I’ve failed.”
“That’s absurd. You’re letting her pay for the wedding. Why not let her help you out with your business?”
Ginny looked at him, amazed that she had to explain the difference to him. “The wedding is just a party. It’s the kind of thing Miranda loves to do. She’d be offended if I didn’t let her pay for it. But it’s not that important to me.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
She reached across the table to take his hand. “Of course it’s important to marry you. But it doesn’t matter where or how. I don’t need ten bridesmaids. I don’t need truckloads of flowers and champagne and a live band. That’s all fluff. It’s nice, I appreciate it, but it’s not what matters.”
“I think you’re too upset to think clearly,” Phillip said firmly. “Your mother loves you, and she has the financial means to help you. You’re letting your pride override your common sense.”
Was this going to be their first fight – arguing over Miranda’s money? Ginny chose her words carefully. “Just how important to you is it that Miranda is my mother?”