She’d been happy with comfortable and wondered if the attraction he felt for his British physician would ultimately evolve into the kind of lasting love he seemed to think it would. He’d claimed to want to be one of those elderly people hobbling along, still holding hands, still in love because they’d weathered the ups and downs of life together.
Karan had wanted to be angry with him for ruining a perfectly good partnership. She should have been, too, but hadn’t quite managed it in the long months since he’d moved out. He’d handled the difficult situation with such integrity that it had been hard to rally much more than hurt that he’d felt he was settling with her. And nurse a bruised ego. No denying that.
“Is it Patrick?” Susanna prompted.
“If he wants to be a little old person holding hands with his soul mate then I hope he finds what he’s looking for.”
“That sounds noble, but you’re out of sorts.”
“Don’t worry about me, Suze.” Karan exhaled a heavy sigh that didn’t take any of her tension with it. “I don’t even have alcohol in the house. Well, Marynia might keep something on hand to cook with. I have no clue. I’d have to search the cabinets.”
“Don’t bother. You could probably get plowed on mouthwash with your sugar issues. Besides, drinking isn’t the way to go. You know that better than I do.”
“No argument there.”
“Then talk to me.” Susanna sounded so serious.
Karan closed her eyes, blocked out the sight of her beautiful bedroom. She’d remodeled after deciding to spend some time here after the divorce, had tried to bring the life she’d loved in Manhattan to Bluestone Mountain. Appropriately, she’d gone with an urban contemporary, Italian leather platform bed, tone on tone neutrals and a lovely birch wood. She’d needed a change, she’d told herself, and creating a new environment had kept her busy, for a while at least.
“I’m going to miss this place when I sell it.” She tried to summon up some enthusiasm for redecorating another house, couldn’t manage even a spark. “Not Bluestone, of course, but this house. I really outdid myself this time.”
“You did,” Susanna agreed. “But you’re not supposed to make life-altering decisions within a year of a traumatic event.”
Susanna would know as she’d made a second career out of learning how to deal with traumatic events in a healthy manner.
“With real estate what it is, it might take a while to move this place. It could be over a year by then. You’ll let me stay with you when I come to visit, won’t you?”
“Of course. You can add on an in-law suite. Or take Brooke’s room. To hear her tell it, she won’t be back after leaving for college. I’ll be lucky if she visits for Christmas.”
“She’ll come home again. Trust me. She’s spreading her wings and discovering who she is, which is exactly what a beautiful young woman should be doing. We were beautiful and young once, too, doing the same thing.”
“Well, then, sell the damned house and come stay with me because Brandon’s not far behind Brooke. It’ll be like we’re rooming in college again.”
Karan opened her eyes and felt a little better. That was exactly what best friends were for. Susanna knew Karan would never get away with staying in a hotel on visits when her mother still lived in town. But she could get away with staying with her best friend and her mother wouldn’t give her too much grief.
“I’m in hell, Susanna. And, for the record, Skip isn’t here if you were worried about him.”
“You are so not funny. I’m not worried.”
“Liar. You worry more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
A pause. “I am worried about you.”
“Ha. What did I tell you?”
“Why don’t you come over here tonight? We’re overdue for a slumber party and I might be able to talk Brooke into watching a movie with us if you’re here. I’ve only got six weeks until she leaves. I want to make the most of every moment.”
“I suppose I could walk—”
“Don’t be silly. Brooke will leap at the chance to take the car. She’s still put out with me that I won’t send her off to college with one.”
“I understand entirely. I’m still put out with you about that. Poor girl.”
Susanna gave an exasperated huff on the other end of the line. “Don’t start on me or you will walk. She’s a freshman. She can’t have a car. How is this remotely my fault?”
“You’re the one making her live in the dorms, remember?”
“She doesn’t need an apartment at eighteen. Please. A few controls in place until she gets the hang of independence is entirely appropriate. Besides, I don’t want her missing out on the whole college experience.”
“A dozen girls sharing one six-stall, four-shower bathroom is an experience she can live without, I’m sure.”
“Four roommates, including her, two bathrooms, and one common area. Dorms have improved since we were in college.”
“Thank goodness. Seems like forever ago, doesn’t it, Suze? I’ve unloaded two husbands and you buried one. But at least you have two wonderful kids to show for your effort.”
Another sigh. Karan could practically see Susanna, curled up in one of her comfy chairs, abandoning any thoughts of accomplishing anything with what remained of the night. Usually Susanna folded laundry or cleaned the kitchen or engaged in some other domestic-type task to rationalize her time spent on the phone. But tonight she wasn’t winded from rushing around multitasking. Tonight she was devoting every speck of her attention to Karan, probably listening to hear what she wasn’t saying. Susanna must really be worried.
“Are you ever going to get around to talking about Charles?” she finally asked. “Or are we going to keep touching on everything that pops into your head to avoid discussing him?”
Ah, Suze and the scalpel again.
“Not much to say.”
“How’s that? The man is back in your life. And not being particularly civil, it sounds like. I’m rather annoyed, to be honest. I may have to visit the hospital.”
That got Karan’s attention, and she sat up, tucking her legs beneath her. “Oh, that’s exactly what I need. Then he’ll exile me from New Hope entirely. Thanks, but no thanks. You know Wannabe Jenny is itching for a reason to send me to jail. No passing Go. No collecting two hundred dollars.”
Susanna groaned. “You’ve left a trail of bodies in your wake. That’s the real problem here.”
All too true, unfortunately. “It’s my gift.”
“Spare me.”
“It’s not as if I try to make people angry.”
“It’s not as if you don’t try.”
Also too true. But Karan had always been focused on her goals. And to achieve them, she’d had to make choices. Sometimes the choices were easy. As when she’d used her influence to stack the cheerleading team with competent people, trained and capable of bringing the team to the state championship. A team’s performance was a direct reflection of its captain, and people like Wannabe Jenny were collateral damage.
Sometimes the choices were much harder. As when she’d finally had to admit her marriage to Charles was over. There had been nothing left for her to do to get him to face the problem.
She’d tried everything, and failed. She’d been left standing in a room filled with people, making excuses, when each and every one of their friends and loved ones knew that Charles didn’t care enough to show up when she asked him to. She’d had to make a choice then—to end the misery or let the situation degenerate further and the fallout get more humiliating, more hurtful… But she couldn’t admit that. Not even to Susanna.
“Okay, Susanna. I won’t deny it. I can be brutal. There, I’ve said it. Are you appeased?”
“You don’t have to appease me,” she shot back. “And I don’t consider Charles one among the trail of bodies you’ve left behind. He was responsible for his half of your marriage. Do you have any clue why he’s being so horrible?”
“You mean that he obviou
sly hasn’t forgiven himself for letting me get away?”
“Karan.”
“Or because I seem to be dismantling all his hard work at New Hope piece by piece? And interrupting his fishing trips. Let’s not forget that. It might explain the hostility.”
“Honestly.” Susanna huffed. “Be serious. That’s exactly what I’m talking about—the way you two divorced. I know things were difficult with Patrick, but at least you both had closure. You resolved the situation with respect for each other and your marriage. You never had that with Charles.”
Another mild understatement. Patrick might have been stupid to give up their perfectly companionable marriage, but at least he’d been responsible for his behavior.
He could have involved himself with his British physician before ending their marriage. But he’d made sure Karan and their joint obligations were cared for. And she couldn’t complain since she’d made out very well in the divorce. He’d handled the situation with typical Patrick integrity and thoroughness when he’d decided to take a shot at a life of hand-holding. Poor man had no clue what he was in for. Love hurt.
Wasn’t that a song?
By comparison, her divorce from Charles had been Pompeii. “You’ve got a point,” she admitted. “But I’m not entirely sure why the man would be put out with me so long after the fact. He forced me into leaving. You know how long I waited for him to come to his senses before even talking with an attorney.”
“I know. But I also know he probably doesn’t see things the way you do. Skip could positively stun me with his logic.”
“Well, I’m not sure what else I was supposed to do. He wouldn’t even discuss the issues. All he did was hide in his residency and blame the long hours he had to spend in the hospital for not being involved in our life. He managed to get the day off to show up in court.”
“There we are again,” Susanna said. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. How many years has it been—five almost? And you still get worked up discussing him. He could be doing the exact same thing.”
“I am not worked up about him.” She might have let him suck her in earlier, but she’d managed to get a grip.
“Could have fooled me. I’m only saying you both could be facing the aftereffects of your divorce. That’s all. You used to be in love. Maybe seeing each other again is bringing some unresolved feelings to the surface. It’s a thought.”
“Fair enough.” Which is precisely why people shouldn’t let love around marriage. Susanna wouldn’t want to hear that, though.
Karan and Charles had loved each other once, in that wild, fearless way of young people. Tonight had proven that love also made things messy and hurtful and let otherwise rational people fall prey to their emotional states, which could be so volatile when chemistry and hormones were involved.
Patrick had been very right about that, which was why Karan had chosen not to marry for love the second time around. She’d shopped around until she’d found the perfect husband. Marriage was challenging enough without throwing in uncontrollable variables into the mix.
“Maybe Charles needs a reminder that you did care once,” Susanna suggested. “You’ve got enough on your plate without him making life more difficult. That’s selfish. Your involvement at New Hope is a limited engagement.”
“Three hundred and thirty-eight hours and counting. I logged every second I spent in that place today including the time it took Charles to exile me. Should have gotten time and a half for that.”
Susanna completely missed the attempt at humor. “So, are you coming over? We won’t have time to watch a movie unless you get here soon. The kids can sleep in because it’s summer, but I’ve got to work in the morning.”
Karan glanced around her stylish bedroom, tried to see the streamlined photographs clustered on the walls from an up-and-coming artist in Soho, the floor-to-ceiling windows where twilight was already shadowing the mountainside, but saw only another long, lonely night.
“Please tell my goddaughter to heist the car and play chauffeur. I’ll make it very worth her while.”
“Trust me. She knows it.” Susanna let out an unladylike snort of laughter that managed to change absolutely everything about Karan’s mood.
“That’s because my goddaughter is a smart girl.” Karan hopped off the bed, suddenly ready to tackle the night ahead.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHARLES HAD KNOWN THE INSTANT he sent Karan off property he’d have to deal with Rhonda. His reasoning was solid, but he wasn’t convinced she’d want to hear his side of the story.
But after speaking at length with the deputy and getting details about who’d created the malicious program in an attempt to infiltrate New Hope’s sensitive data, Charles had all the facts he needed to defend his position.
Rhonda showed up in the office about an hour after he did carrying a plate and silverware. “Hope you don’t mind. Margaret was fixing dinner. Total zoo at the crisis center. Haven’t had a bite to eat all day, and I’m in session so I’ll miss dinner.”
Pushing away from the desk, he vacated the chair and motioned for her to sit. “Come on, enjoy your meal. Smells good, whatever it is.”
“Thanks. Chicken and dumplings. Comfort food. Perfect for my mood today.” She settled herself and dug in.
Folding his arms over his chest, Charles stared at her. “Looks good.”
“If you’re hungry, you should grab some. Margaret always makes enough for an army, but there won’t be anything left after she serves dinner. Have I mentioned lately how happy I am with that particular hire?”
“You and everyone else around here. Did the deputy fill you in on the spyware investigation?”
“I haven’t been updated since this morning,” she said around a bite.
“The police techs were able to track the program to its source. IP address leads to where Amy’s estranged husband works. Apparently, he’s involved with computers. Not sure what he does.”
Rhonda leaned back in the chair with the fork poised at her lips. “I can’t say I’m surprised. But they’re sure he didn’t get our location?”
“Our security system stopped outgoing data. Another good expense. But what happens now? Do we need to transfer Amy and the boys to another facility as a precaution?”
Rhonda nodded. “I hate to see them leave since they were getting settled, but we don’t have a choice. If her husband is already looking our way, we don’t take chances. And it’s actually a good thing.”
“How’s that?”
“Her attorney will have something to take to the judge to extend the terms of the injunction for protection.”
That would be another protective measure in place, but while there was no public information available about New Hope’s address, this emergency shelter was a physical location in the outskirts of town. Victims of domestic violence didn’t vanish off the planet when they came here. New Hope had modeled its security after other longstanding, time-tested programs, but there were no guarantees.
“With everyone who comes and goes around here, this location might not be public, but it’s not exactly top secret.”
Rhonda set down the fork and lifted her gaze. “You know as well as I do that we’re nothing without our resources. The people who come and go provide those resources. Amy and the boys will relocate to Albany or Peekskill. Not optimum, but not that far away from her family. Right now their safety is primary.”
Charles nodded. “I think we can be more selective about who comes on site.”
“So we’re finally getting around to what’s really bugging you.” Rhonda abandoned dinner and steepled her fingers in front of her. “The alternative sentence program.”
“People who are in trouble with the law don’t strike me as the best people to trust with our location.”
“I won’t argue that. But with the proper controls, we’re not only filling the holes we have here but assisting other folks who need help in the process.”
“And what exactly is Karan o
ffering New Hope?”
Rhonda hopped up, pulled a stack of papers from her in-box on the wall and handed it to him. “I haven’t quite nailed it yet, but I’m getting warmer.”
He didn’t have to glance down to know what he held. “The business correspondence she was printing for you.”
“For New Hope. Take a look. Not only are those letters professional and articulate but they’re worded expertly and delicately to encourage people to continue sponsoring us. Your ex-wife has a master’s degree in public relations.”
“I was aware of that,” he said drily. “For the record, she has zero experience. Never worked a real job in her life.”
“Neat trick if you can do it.” Rhonda smiled. “I couldn’t have written these letters nearly as well. I mean, I’m gracious and professional, but these are so far out of my league that I’m almost embarrassed. We’re setting up templates so we can use these letters from now on. We don’t have the funds to pay someone to produce these. Not yet, anyway. That’s something Karan has provided.”
“Fair enough, but I’m not willing to concede my point. We’ve got residents transferring out of this facility because of her error. She was using email on the med data station.”
“That was my fault. Karan hasn’t been properly trained. You know as well as I do the orientation workshops are filled with all the pertinent basic information. I plunked her down in front of a computer and told her to have at it.”
He was not okay with Rhonda’s defense, or with the fact that his anger was still simmering beneath the surface, waiting to flare the way it had last night.
He shouldn’t be feeling anything.
“You can’t take that on yourself,” he said. “What do you psychotherapists call it—personal accountability? If Karan had serviceable skills, you wouldn’t be trying to outthink the kind of trouble she can get into around here.”
“She does have serviceable skills. You’re holding the product of one in your hand.” Rhonda sank into the chair, thoughtful. “I’ll send her through orientation—”
“Absolutely not. It costs money to train these people and she’s only going to be here for a short time. It’s a total waste of resources. Particularly if we decide the alternative sentencing program isn’t working out.”
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