Kay would’ve loved their salesmanship, but she was at the hospital, waiting on the birth of her grandchildren. She’d been assisting with the setup for the silent auction when the call came from Bay Water Hospital. Sophie was still in awe of Kay and Evie’s swift and easy friendship. Evie had even promised to head to the hospital after the event so Kay wouldn’t have to wait alone. Thanks to Mayor Harrington, Evie and Kay, only ten seats hadn’t been purchased. She was thankful for the women’s ability to rally so many of their friends to this cause.
Sophie heard Brad’s laughter and turned toward the brothers. Brad toasted her with his glass from across the room. He was handsome when he was in jeans and a T-shirt, but now he was second-glance worthy in his suit and tie. She congratulated herself for controlling her emotions and wrangling the lock back in place around her heart. No silly heart flip-flopping or one-sided yearning for her.
More thumbs-ups flashed on her screen from Ruthie and Troy. Sophie had everything in hand.
“I knew you’d pull this off. Never discount a Callahan.”
A warm hand slipped around Sophie’s waist. She twisted as her father dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Dad?”
“I returned like I promised.” He adjusted the knot on his tie and tugged his white shirt cuffs out of the sleeves of his pin-striped suit jacket. “The girls let me in when I told them I was your proud father.”
He smiled over Sophie’s shoulder. She turned to see an older woman touching her necklace and grinning back. Grabbing her father’s elbow, Sophie steered him toward the back of the ballroom. “Where have you been?”
“Plenty of time to talk about that later.” He scanned the silent-auction tables running the length of the wall. “Is this a couples’ event or are there singles here, too?”
His voice was too pleasant and the speculation in his tone and scheming in the narrowing of his eyes made Sophie tighten her grip on his arm. “You can’t just show up here.”
As if he’d been invited. As if he belonged. As if he’d assisted in her success, not her potential downfall. Sophie pushed out a wide smile for the couple discussing one of the pet spa baskets and guided her father away from the auction items.
“I got a voice mail reminder about your event. I had to support my daughter.” He pulled free with a quick twist and soft pat to Sophie’s fingers, and eased beside an elegant woman reading the information card about a weekend wine getaway. Her father whispered in the woman’s ear, drawing out a cultured laugh before she bid. He returned to Sophie and nudged her in the side. “See that. She’s paying the buy-it-now price. I can be very persuasive and very helpful.”
“Helpful would be giving me my money back,” Sophie muttered.
Suddenly her father grabbed her arm and towed her backward toward the door. “Tell me that isn’t Evelyn Davenport by the stage?”
Sophie spotted Evelyn stepping from behind the black stage curtain. She approached the emcees. Her black skirt flowing and the black feather motif embroidered on the sleeveless white top made the older woman look classic and timeless. Sophie wanted to steal a pinch of Evie’s poise for herself. Sophie smiled at her father. “That’s Evie. How do you know her?”
“It’s not important.” He adjusted the silver tie at his neck and stretched his shoulders. “You know, you’re right, honey. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t buy a ticket and this is your event. Walk me out, we need to talk.”
Her father spun and sprinted into the hall. Sophie paused, but no one shouted an SOS and only thumbs-up images flashed on her phone screen. She looked at Brad and saw him with his cell phone to his ear, his expression dark and angry.
But she could only deal with one crisis at a time. She hurried into the hall after her father, trying not to seem frantic or uncoordinated in heels she never wore and in a gown she didn’t own. She’d risk a ripped seam and blisters before she’d let her father walk away. “This is the part where you return my money, right?”
“I haven’t forgotten what I owe you.” Her father stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and rocked back and forth in his polished dress shoes. “I just need a loan and then I can bring us all even.”
“A loan?” Sophie stuttered and pinched her hips, trying to loosen the vise of her sheath gown. The sequins became like chain mail, no longer shimmering and elegant.
“Not a big one.” Her father tugged on his jacket sleeves and rubbed his hands together. “I’ve got a real good plan. Something’s already in the works.”
“Have you forgotten what you owe me?” a woman demanded from behind Sophie.
Sophie peeked over her shoulder and caught Evie’s steady approach, the older woman’s gaze fixed on her father. Sophie looked to him. He was holding a hand up as if a spotlight blinded his view. Then she went back to Evie and noted her set face, anger thinning her mouth. Sophie’s gown contracted another inch, slowing her movements; otherwise, she’d have whiplash jumping back and forth between the pair.
Sophie lowered her voice, trying to hide the slow-burning accusation. “Dad, how do you know Evie?”
“You remember I mentioned E.D. I tried to introduce you last fall.” Her father swiped his hand over his mouth as if to slow his words.
But he failed to temper his panic. Sophie heard his dismay in the way his words tripped over each other. “That was Edie, not Evie.”
“Evelyn Davenport. I called her E.D. for short.” He lifted his hands toward Sophie and shrugged. “Simple and easy like Soda-Pop.”
Only roosters lived simple and easy, never laying an egg or ending up on the dinner table. More Grandmother Callahan wisdom. Sophie dropped her chin and stared at the black sequins on her gown: dull and somber and grim like the betrayal and shame that consumed her.
Why hadn’t Evie told her? How could her father have fleeced a wonderful woman like Evie? Did Evie pity her?
“Sophie?”
Brad’s voice reached her like an escape route in a dungeon. Sophie moved toward him, seeking the safe shelter she’d only ever discovered in Brad’s arms.
Two police officers flanked Brad, who nodded and said, “That’s George Callahan.”
One of the officers pulled out a pair of handcuffs as he read her father his rights.
Those iron bars slammed shut, making her a prisoner in that dungeon. That shelter only an illusion. Always an illusion. Always a lie. Sophie swayed on her heels, fighting against the weight of her gown dragging her lower. “What did you do?”
“What I asked him to do.” Evie stepped forward. “Find George Callahan, the man responsible for stealing my retirement fund.”
Sophie pitched forward, forcing her words out in a blast of distaste and disgust. “Is that true?”
Her father winced. “I borrowed it.”
The only strength left inside Sophie lashed through her voice like a whip. “Like you borrowed the money in my savings account?”
“That was our savings account, Soda-Pop.” His eyebrows pulled together and his chin stiffened. “I had every right to it.”
“You had no right,” Sophie shouted. Her father looked at his dress shoes and straightened the pleat on his pant leg. Always more worried about his appearance than the truth. Sophie’s gaze narrowed on her father, remembering his landlord’s rant. Bile crawled up the back of her throat. “What have you done? Evelyn and I aren’t the only ones you’ve stolen from, are we?”
“It was all gifts.” Her father jerked his gaze to her, but his head shook and his focus slid off her face like tires on black ice. “And E.D. has property in the city. A place in Pacific Hills. She has more money.”
Desperation infused his words again. Sophie countered, “But it wasn’t your money!”
“Would’ve been once we married.” Resentment scratched up his attempt at a smooth, placating tone.
Evie coughed.
Sop
hie didn’t need to look at the older woman. “But Evelyn refused you.”
“She needed more time to make our arrangement permanent,” he said.
“But you didn’t have any more time.” Sophie’s bank account, her father’s distracted phone calls, the intrusion of his world into hers: everything clicked into place like the magnetic ends on a black titanium balance bracelet. “You never called Teddy Gordon, by the way.”
“He’ll wait. He stands to double the money he loaned me.” Her father stretched his hand toward her and slowed his words into a plea. “If you’d just spot me, Soda-Pop.”
“There’s no more money.”
“You’re wearing that fancy dress for this fancy ball with your new fancy friends. You got your store.” He shook his finger at her as if ratcheting up his anger. As if she’d insulted him. “You’ve got access to money. If you’d only listen to my plan.”
She’d borrowed her fancy dress from Ruthie’s twin sister, Becca. The clutch purse belonged to Evie. The heels belonged to Ruthie. Kay had lent her the jewelry. She might have begged and borrowed, but she’d never stolen like her father. “No, you need to listen. I have no money.”
“None that you’ll share.” His mouth dipped into a pout worthy of any toddler denied his favorite toy. “I just want to make us whole like I promised. Everything I’ve done is for Ella.”
Sophie’s stomach dropped. She struggled to draw a breath as if something or someone had seized her scream. How dare her father blame his granddaughter. Sophie swallowed, searching for her voice, searching for strength, searching for a reason not to vomit. She looked at the officers. “You can take him now.”
“I’ll call you, Soda-Pop. We need to talk more.” Her father walked with the officers as if he believed everything would still work out in his favor.
Sophie turned her back on him. Turned her back on the fantasy family she’d dreamed about as a child. Turned her back on the past. But she didn’t move from her spot. Hurt should consume her, but only emptiness poured in.
“Sophie?”
The familiar voice dislodged her numbness and made her ache. She hurt, after all. Now there was someone else she needed to relegate to her past.
Sophie stiffened her shoulders, yanking her spine into place to block out Brad’s soft voice trying to lead her in another direction. A hand landed on her waist, the warm touch jarring through the cold seizing her. She jerked away and rounded on Brad, digging her heels like spikes into the concrete floor, anchoring her knees and her resolve.
“We need to talk,” he said.
It was way too late for that. “I love you.”
Brad rocked back as if she’d pierced him with a knife. Her revelation shocked them both. She’d heard the accusation and threat in her tone, the lack of warmth and friendship. But there was just too much pain for her heart not to be involved. And the hurt wasn’t for her father. George Callahan had broken her heart years ago and had yet to repair that damage. No, this pain was new, fresh and all Brad’s fault. “But those words don’t matter.”
He grabbed her hand and held her in place. “It matters.”
“I trusted you.” That cracking in her voice matched the splintering in her heart. The heart she’d locked away. The heart she’d sworn no man would ever break like her father had. What a liar she’d turned out to be.
“I’m sorry.” He wrapped her hand inside both of his and squeezed. “We can still make us work.”
She stared at her hand cradled in his, protected and safe. But a chill blew through her as if the cold breath of reality sighed against her bare neck. She jerked her hand free and stepped away from another illusion. “I need to see to my guests and volunteers.”
“That’s it.” He reached for her, his arms stretching toward her, his bewildered voice circling her. “You tell me ‘I love you’ and then walk away.”
“It’s not enough.” The pieces of her shattered heart pinged against the concrete like crystals from a broken necklace. Wasn’t that enough?
“It’s everything,” he said. “But you’re too scared to trust your heart.”
The truth in his words stung.
He attacked again, his next words pricking even deeper. “You’re too scared to trust in love. In our love.”
She notched her chin up and pressed her lips together as if that would cut off his words. As if that would crush the sting.
“Just like you’re too scared to be called Mom.” He hadn’t softened his attack, never restrained the ruthless edge to his tone, never concealed his anguish. “But you aren’t your sister or your mother. When are you going to see that?”
She couldn’t see through the hurt, the emptiness or the lies. So many lies, she’d lost the truth. “I have to go.”
“Don’t walk away, Sophie.” Brad shook his head and focused on her. “Don’t deny us.”
“I can’t do this.”
“You’re not a runner.” His gaze narrowed on her as his voice lowered. “You don’t quit because it’s a little too hard. A little too overwhelming. A little too much.”
“But you are a runner.” She sealed her arms against her sides, as if that was enough to insulate her from any more pain. “You are still sailing away on your boat, right?”
He quit reaching for her and squeezed the back of his neck. Everything inside Sophie squeezed as if she hadn’t shattered enough already.
“I have to.” He tried smiling, but his smile was too small, too weak to push through the guarded look in his eyes. “You and Ella could come with me.”
He offered the impossible. But he never offered to stay. “That’s not the life I’ve chosen.” She’d made a life in the city. A home for her and Ella. “That’s not the life I promised Ella. My niece won’t become a runner like the rest of her family.”
“You can’t make the loan payment,” he lashed out. “What do you really have here?”
“What will you have alone on a boat?” She kept her arms plastered to her sides, refusing to rub her bare skin. Refusing to reveal the cuts his words caused. She had to end this verbal duel that sliced deeper than any blade. “You’re not willing to give up anything, while I lose everything. Safe travels, Brad.”
“Don’t walk away, Sophie.” The plea in his voice pushed against her, all the more forceful in its softness.
Sophie stormed off, stuffed away useless wishes, then stopped abruptly beside Evie. The older woman’s familiar jasmine and honeysuckle perfume swirled through Sophie’s shallow breaths, linking her to those might-have-beens and what-ifs. “I don’t know what to say to you. I’m sorry feels empty and useless.”
“We say nothing tonight.” Evie touched Sophie’s arm. “And tomorrow or when you’re ready, we’ll talk.”
Sophie blinked against the tears in her eyes, refusing to break down in the lobby of her gala or anywhere in public. Her gown morphed into armor, holding her together inside its rigid, unforgiving sheath.
Ruthie appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening and her mouth thinning. One stiff head shake brought Ruthie to Sophie’s side. One stuttered inhale and Ruthie hooked her arm determinedly through Sophie’s. No words required. Just the reinforcement of a best friend.
Ruthie escorted Sophie into the ballroom. Liv appeared just inside the entryway and stood next to Sophie on her other side. Sophie inhaled and forced herself to smile. She’d survive the evening with these strong women beside her. She knew without asking that they wouldn’t leave her. She knew because that was what real family did: never left you.
* * *
BRAD PACED THE hallway. The DJ’s music pulsed against the closed ballroom doors, each beat pounding like a fist to his chest. He considered storming inside and tossing Sophie over his shoulder and leaving with her. But that wouldn’t be right, either.
Storming inside and kissing her sensele
ss held appeal. A lot of appeal. If he showed her what was between them without words, then she might believe. Then she might take a risk.
But she’d accused him of making her a runner like her family. Of turning her into everything she never wanted to become. But she wasn’t like her family. Sophie stayed. No matter what life threw at her, she stuck by those she loved. And he wanted her by his side. He needed her to stick with him.
But that wasn’t happening now. She’d told him she loved him with loathing in her tone, blame in her voice as if love had betrayed her.
Brad strode toward the hotel’s main entrance and stopped a foot from the exit, unable or, perhaps, unwilling to leave yet. If he pushed on into the night, he became the runner Sophie had accused him of being. But he couldn’t stay. Staying was never in his plans.
The music’s volume swelled before the ballroom door swung shut, blocking him out once again. There wasn’t enough music to sweep away the emptiness building inside him. He couldn’t recall ever feeling this alone. But he wanted to be alone, didn’t he?
“Why did you tell Sophie’s father about the event?”
Brad faced the tinted glass windows overlooking the hotel’s circular drive. The city lights and traffic blurred against the tint, washing through his reflection and that of his mother. Nothing could wash out his misery, though. He removed the doubt from his voice, and said, “She had to learn the truth about him.”
“You could have simply told her.” His mother stepped up beside him, her expensive jeweled necklace glittering in the tinted glass.
His mother only reached his shoulder in her heels, but they shared the same hair color and eye color. He’d always considered his mother’s eyes to be shrewd and wondered if Sophie thought the same about him now. “Sophie needed to hear the truth from her father.”
“And this was the only place you could’ve arranged that conversation?”
His mother’s vanilla scent clogged his throat. She offered no reassurance. No soothing words. No validation that he’d done the right thing. “George Callahan was desperate enough to choose to come here. I’m not responsible for his choices.”
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