by Tracy March
But it wasn’t.
Instead, she’d gone home, blocked Cole’s number from her phone, then turned it off and sat on her balcony for hours, staring out at the harbor. Although the hurt was different, it reminded her of the many nights she’d spent in the exact same spot, grieving for Wes. It had gotten pretty chilly during the wee hours—even with a blanket thrown over her—but feeling cold beat feeling numb. How could she have been naive enough to fall in love with Cole? And to think Frank had been willing to donate a half-million dollars to BADD if she didn’t.
After getting a few hours of fitful sleep, she woke up to a gray morning with steady rain.
How appropriate.
Thank goodness she’d taken a vacation day, having planned to be with Cole no matter what the outcome of the World Series had been. She could spend the day alone, but she’d learned from grieving where too much alone-time could lead, and she didn’t want to go there again. Paige was the one person who wouldn’t ask too many questions or judge Liza for being so stupid.
So. Stupid.
Liza powered up her phone and texted Paige.
Coming by this morning. See you then…
She slogged through the motions of showering and getting dressed in her most comfortable jeans, a long-sleeved tee, and a cozy, soft-yarn sweater that always felt like a hug. No doubt she could use one of those today.
She got to Sweet Bee’s around nine, both happy and sad to see that business was slow. Jingly bells rang on the door as she opened it.
Paige caught sight of her from the kitchen. She came out grinning, waving a section of newspaper, appearing tiny in her big white apron. “Look who’s in the paper again!” She gave Liza a once-over and lowered her eyebrows. “Where’s Cole?”
Liza shook her head, her bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to fall.
Paige furrowed her brow and rushed Liza into the kitchen, tossing the newspaper onto a stainless steel table. “What happened?”
Liza grabbed the newspaper. On the front page of the Washington Post, above the fold, was a shot of her and Cole, him on one knee, putting that gorgeous ring on her finger. Liza had looked in the mirror countless times in her life and never seen herself so happy. Tears blurred her vision as she read the headline.
“Perfect Play: Collins Gets the Girl.”
Liza couldn’t help but read some of the article.
“Prior to clinching the World Series with a two-run homer, Nationals first baseman and Series MVP Cole Collins hit a run-scoring triple, then defied the odds and stole home. He’s also been busy stealing the heart of Liza Sutherland, to whom he proposed marriage during the seventh-inning stretch…”
Paige grabbed Liza’s hand. “Where’s your ring?”
With plenty of tears and tissues, Liza told Paige what had happened—including her deal with Frank. Paige hugged her, way better than a sweater. She didn’t judge her for being so drawn in by Cole or for agreeing to such a sleazy deal.
“He had me convinced, too.” Paige shook her head.
“It was a pretty clever plan, and I fell right into it. With the press showing up at the farm that first night—”
“And me,” Paige said, “stupidly letting him come here for the pie war.” She scrunched her face.
Liza smiled wanly. “At least you got some business out of this embarrassing mess.”
“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. I would’ve fallen for his charm a heck of a lot faster than you did.”
Liza blotted her eyes, glad she hadn’t bothered with mascara. “He used me as a tool in front of forty-one thousand people—just like he did when he proposed in front of those reporters—all to get himself a contract.”
Paige looked like she was fighting a smile. “A tool?”
“Whatever. You know what I meant.”
Paige cocked her head. “A hammer? A screwdriver? Maybe a socket wrench?”
“Stop.” Liza shook her head. “I’m not in the mood to laugh.” But she did grin a little. She glanced over at the opposite table where Cole had made his pies in their pie war. On it sat a cake that caught her eye.
Paige followed her line of vision and frowned. “That was supposed to be for your engagement.”
“What is it?”
“A cake.”
“I see that, but what is it?” Liza stepped to the other side of the kitchen to get a closer look. Paige trailed behind her.
“I had a baseball player cake mold that I use for kid’s birthday cakes, so I fixed it up for you guys.”
Paige used a Sugar Sheet overlay of a Nationals player in a batting stance, put Cole’s number on the jersey and gave the guy blond hair. She’d even put a little mole on his cheek. Where the player’s hands met the bat, she’d stuck a gumball-machine diamond ring.
Liza sniffled, trying not to tear up again.
“It was the best I could do on short notice,” Paige said.
“Thank you, really. I should’ve guessed you’d do something thoughtful like that. I’m sorry you went to the trouble, considering….”
“No problem.” Paige squinted at the cake, deep in thought. “Cole believes in voodoo magic, right?”
Liza had no idea where she was going with this. “Yes?”
Paige took the cake out to a table in the front, farthest away from her one customer. Liza followed her.
“Have a seat.” Paige hurried back into the kitchen, and returned a few minutes later with two cups of espresso, plates and napkins, a knife, and a packet of pink-striped cake pop sticks.
Paige opened the cake pop sticks, handed several to Liza, and grinned mischievously. She took one herself and stabbed it into the cake, right on the baseball player’s butt. “There’s some voodoo magic for you, mister.”
Liza couldn’t help but laugh this time. Only Paige would’ve thought of something like this.
“Your turn,” Paige said.
Liza picked up one of her sticks, hesitated, then poked the player in the eye. As juvenile as it was, she got a strange sort of satisfaction from it. She grabbed another stick and went for the knees. Before long, the cake looked like a pink-striped porcupine, and Paige had Liza laughing and sipping espresso.
“We got him pretty good,” Paige said, cutting the cake amid all the voodoo sticks, and somehow managing to come out with a couple of pieces that were only partially mangled.
“Delicious,” Liza murmured through a mouthful of almond-tinged pound cake that melted on her tongue.
Paige looked pleased. She might be the only person who doubted the deliciousness of anything she baked. “I know you don’t want to hear this—”
Liza gave her an exaggerated frown. Just when she was starting to cheer up…
“But I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I didn’t say it.”
She looked at Paige skeptically, but she knew that wouldn’t stop her.
“You and Cole both misled each other…at first. You started dating him because of a deal. I get why—even why you didn’t tell me—but still. Frank might’ve told him to settle down if he wanted another contract with the Nats, but Cole didn’t have to do what Frank said.”
Liza scowled.
“Okay. Maybe, in the beginning, he might not have been a hundred percent sincere—even though I think he was into you all along. But there was nothing fake about the way he looked at you all starry-eyed. He’s not an actor. He’s a baseball player.” Paige hurried to the kitchen and came back with four sections of newspaper, all featuring pictures of Liza and Cole, including the one from last night. She spread them across the table. “See? Look at him. Look at you. From the very beginning, it was there. That it that everyone dreams about finding. You two are in love, however you got there.” She crossed her arms and gave Liza the Paige-stare. “Both of you.”
&nbs
p; Liza hated to admit it, but Paige had made some good points. If she hadn’t known the couple in the pictures—hadn’t been one of them—she would’ve bet they were in love, too.
“I understand why you reacted the way you did. I would’ve done the same thing.” Paige stuck her finger in the icing, came away with a dollop, and ate it. “But think about it this way…if he was putting on an act, dating you just to get a contract from the Nats, he was doing a bang-up job already without having to freakin’ propose. Jeez, he’d already skated by with a practice one. How was he gonna get out of that huge seventh-inning-stretch production if he was just faking it? That ring alone must’ve set him back a few fat paychecks. Sure, he’s rich, but that was an investment he didn’t need to make. Besides, how much negative publicity do you think he’d get for breaking it off with you after he went and made you the sweetheart of the World Series?”
She chewed on the icing end of one of the cake pop sticks. “And America doesn’t want a sweetheart with puffy eyes and a naked ring finger. You should see what he has to say for himself. You didn’t give him a chance last night.”
“I blocked his number from my phone.”
“Why?” Paige’s eyes widened. “I would’ve at least wanted the satisfaction of seeing how many times he called or texted.” She winked.
Liza gave her a wan grin. “You would.” She took another bite of the sinfully good pound cake and promised herself she would go for a run later.
“Maybe you’re afraid he’ll have a good explanation for what he did and you just don’t want to hear it.”
Was Paige right? Liza had what she thought was a good explanation for making the deal with Frank, even though Cole might not like the idea. Then again, Cole probably felt the same way about his agreement with Frank.
“Maybe you’re right,” Liza said. “I’m so used to being alone—”
“And sad.”
“And seeing my future like that.” Things were becoming clearer in her mind—probably thanks to the sugar and caffeine. And to Paige. “So at the first sign of trouble with Cole, I bailed, and headed back to my comfort zone.”
“That about covers it.” Paige nodded, and a section of pink-striped hair fell in front of her shoulder. “Do you still like feeling that way, or did you like how you felt when you were with Cole?”
Liza’s heart sank. She studied the barren spot on her finger where her engagement ring should’ve been, then picked the fake one off the cake and put it on. “Oh, God, Paige. What have I done?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Liza stepped into her office at the foundation, feeling better after spending yesterday with Paige. She’d pretty much gotten in the way while Paige baked to fulfill several large special orders. Paige had helped her work through the situation with Cole, and Liza had woken up this morning feeling better about things. She’d unblocked his number from her phone and made a pact with herself—if she didn’t hear from him before lunchtime, she’d make the first move and call him. Or text? She still couldn’t decide. And she had no idea yet what she would say or write.
She took off her jacket and draped it over a chair, catching a glance of her wall calendar. November already. Time had rushed by since she’d been with Cole. And the days had been happy ones, with all the late-season baseball and postseason play. With all of Cole’s tender kisses and nights wrapped in his arms. Liza smiled a little. Should she even wait until lunchtime to call him?
She pulled her chair away from her desk and almost sat, but then noticed the white envelope that had been left on the seat. Her name was written on the front in handwriting that bordered on block lettering. She picked it up, opened it, and pulled out the paper inside—a blank page folded around a check from Frank Price, made out to the foundation in the amount of five hundred thousand dollars.
A tingly surge of adrenaline radiated through Liza. Her hands trembled and she sank onto the chair. Frank must have dropped the check off yesterday—or had a courier bring it—because Liza was the only person in the office so far this morning and probably would be until midday. She’d unlocked the door herself.
It had taken Frank only hours to make good on their deal. Had Cole told Frank to pay her off and be done with her? She hated to admit it, but she’d hoped Frank would make an argument that Cole had really wanted to date her, and had really fallen for her, too. But if Cole had been sincere about being with her—being her husband—then there would’ve been no need for Frank to have written the check at all.
Liza tossed the envelope on her desk and pressed her eyes closed. What little hope she had that things would work out had been dashed by the stroke of a pen. She felt even worse to have been let down a second time.
More camps, more kids, better equipment…
She thought of all the good a half-million dollars would do for BADD, but it was little comfort. Regardless of the good it would do, she couldn’t take Frank’s donation after all that had happened.
Maybe Paige could help her see a bright side to the situation, but Liza didn’t have the energy to call her. Besides, she’d dumped on Paige all day yesterday. After hearing about the check, Paige might hurry over with another voodoo cake, and Liza didn’t have the stomach for that this morning. She could, however, use some coffee.
She went into the kitchen where, while she’d been off yesterday, her coworkers had posted all the newspaper pictures of her and Cole on the white board and written “Congratulations Liza!” in huge colorful letters. Someone had even drawn a giant diamond ring. Thank goodness they were all out working on the anti-doping video project that was wrapping up. How was she going to explain to them what had happened, and to everyone else? Especially her parents.
She brewed some coffee and went back to her office, determined to caffeinate herself and review the applications she’d received for summer camp attendees. Surprisingly, several hours passed while she read the touching stories in silence.
Around eleven, she heard someone come in the front door. Moments later, her mom called from the hallway. “It’s me, sweetie.”
Her mom came into her office, looking a little tired but still lovely in tailored black slacks and a spice-orange jacket. The woman was a true-blue Orioles fan, Series win or not. Liza felt for her parents. They’d had such high hopes for the team, then the disappointment of coming so close and losing. She didn’t have the heart to pile on with more disappointing news. For today, she’d have to fake it.
“Hi, Mom.” Liza hugged her tightly. “You doing okay? And Dad?”
“We’re all right.” Her mom nodded. “Looking ahead to next season now.”
“Go Os.” Liza’s words sounded flat.
Her mom glanced out the window at the last of the leaves falling from the ginkgo trees in the courtyard, and Frank’s check caught her eye.
Crap. Liza had meant to put it away, then mail it back to Frank.
“Good gracious.” Her mom picked up the check. “Frank Price gave us five hundred thousand dollars?”
Liza shrugged one shoulder and smiled as if she were excited. “Wow, huh?”
“Wow is right.” Her mom shook her head. “Poor Frank is really trying to make amends, isn’t he? Tell you what, put this in your purse and we’ll take it to the bank on our way back from lunch.”
“Lunch?” Liza couldn’t imagine keeping up this act during a long Friday-afternoon lunch with her mom. But the alternative was staying here and facing her coworkers even sooner.
“Naomi Tyler just opened a little bistro in Middleburg so I thought we’d check it out. You know, a little mother-daughter engagement celebration lunch.” Her mom’s eyes glimmered.
“That’s quite a drive for lunch.”
“So take the afternoon off—my treat.” Her mom ran the place, so Liza could hardly say no. She didn’t care about appearances right now. And this way, she could avoid her cow
orkers altogether. Until Monday.
“And what’s a little drive when there’s so much to talk about?” Her mom beamed. “We’ve got a wedding to plan.”
Liza rubbed her forehead where a headache was setting in.
Her mom’s gaze followed Liza’s hand. “Where’s that gorgeous ring?”
Liza’s heart skipped ahead a few beats. “Getting sized.” She hated lying to her mom.
“Then it will fit just right.” Her mom smiled.
Lisa turned away and got busy shutting down her computer and gathering her coat and purse. Given enough time to look closely, her mom would figure out that nothing was just right anymore. Just right was just a fairy tale.
They locked up the office, headed out, and got in her mom’s car. Liza quickly put on her sunglasses to hide her eyes. But her mom was distracted enough by traffic, wedding ideas, and plans for Frank’s donation, that Liza didn’t have to try too hard to play along. She could tell that, as excited as her mom was about the idea of a wedding, she was treading lightly with the subject. They’d already planned one for Liza and Wes. Without coming out and saying it, her mom seemed uncertain how similar Liza would want her and Cole’s big day to be. No worries there, really. Neither wedding was ever going to happen.
Liza had thought a drive in the rolling countryside on a gorgeous fall day would soothe her soul a little. And it did. Until she realized that she and Cole had traveled this way together a couple of times, back and forth to the storybook farm. Liza’s chest tightened.
“I promised Charlene Shelton I would swing by and drop off a program from the Series.” Her mom’s voice still sounded sad when she mentioned it. She gestured to the backseat where several programs were stacked along with a few folded sections of newspaper. Liza hoped they weren’t the ones with pictures of her and Cole. From now until forever, she’d have an aversion to newspapers. They were good for nothing but lining birdcages and house-training a puppy.
“Who is Charlene Shelton?” Liza asked. Her mom and dad knew so many people that Liza couldn’t keep them all straight.