Annie was the kind of woman who did believe in the lasting variety. Who would keep looking for it until she found it. He did not need a flashing neon sign to tell him that; the very way she lived her life gave it perfect illustration.
And he hoped that she did find it.
He wasn’t a man who could give that to her, but in the short time he was here, did that mean they couldn’t be friends?
ANNIE LAY AWAKE, staring at the ceiling.
She glanced at her alarm clock. Twelve-thirty.
Strange that Clarice hadn’t called yet.
She always called after a first date to report initial impressions to Annie and get her read on them.
Ah, Annie, maybe she hasn’t called because the date’s not over yet.
That realization came at her like a blast of arctic air.
She fish-flopped onto her side and gave her pillow a quick jab it did not deserve.
Go to sleep, Annie. Just go to sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
SHE WAS ON HER WAY out the door to take Tommy to school the next morning when the phone rang. Certain it would be Clarice, Annie picked it up and said, “Hey. Can I call you back from the car?”
“Ah, sure,” came a surprised male voice. Jack Corbin’s surprised male voice.
Annie froze where she stood. “Jack. I’m sorry. I was sure you were Clarice.”
“No problem. I’ve come across an interesting lead. I thought I’d drive down to North Carolina and check it out. I could use someone to ride shotgun.”
“Today?”
“Short notice, I know, but yeah. I’d planned to leave pretty much right away.”
Annie’s thoughts went in a zillion directions. This, she had not expected. But she’d offered her help in getting to the bottom of anything that might alter the future of Corbin Manufacturing. The fact that she’d spent the night dreaming about his wedding to Clarice shouldn’t affect that. “Um, sure. I’d be happy to come along. I was just taking Tommy to school. How long do you think we’ll be gone?”
“Maybe early evening?”
“I’ll need to check with Mrs. Parker then and make sure she can pick up Tommy. If I don’t call you back, that means everything is all right.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you in your office parking lot. Thirty minutes?”
“See you then.”
Annie hung up and dialed Mrs. Parker’s number. The older woman assured her it would be no problem for her to fetch Tommy after school. Annie thanked her, then hurried out the front door to where Tommy was already waiting in the Tahoe. Funny thing, too, she felt as though she’d been pumped full of helium, her feet not even touching the ground.
ON THE WAY to Tommy’s school, Annie called the office and left a message for Peggy, her receptionist, that she wouldn’t be in today. No sooner had she put the phone down than it rang again.
“Morning,” Clarice said. “You taking Tommy?”
“Uh-huh,” Annie said, starting to tell her about her change in plans for the day, then deciding to ask about Clarice’s date first. “So tell me. How did it go?”
“Pretty good, I think. The meal was a hit.”
“Good.”
“You know men, though. Never can tell what they’re thinking.”
“I thought you might call last night.”
“It was kinda late. Didn’t want to wake you.”
Clarice always called Annie after dates. Always. The fact that she hadn’t this time meant something. What, though?
Should she tell her about going with Jack today?
She started to, then stopped. What was the point? Annie had no intention of intruding on what she now considered her sister’s territory.
So why aren’t you telling her then?
Because she might read something into it that wasn’t there.
They chit-chatted for another minute or two and then hung up, Annie wondering at her sister’s reluctance to go into the specifics of her date. Her normal pattern was to give Annie such a clear picture of events that she might have been there herself.
So what about her own normal pattern? You never keep things from Clarice! Unease swam through her. She should have told Clarice about today. Gotten it out in the open so that it wasn’t any big deal. Or maybe she should just call Jack back and tell him she couldn’t go.
Not professional.
On the assumption that his asking her had been nothing more than a continuation of Saturday’s efforts—and that was what she assumed—how could she back out now?
She would call Clarice as soon as they got back, explain how ridiculous she’d been in not telling her, and that would be that.
She did not like being off-kilter with her sister. Clarice meant the world to her, and she would never do anything to hurt her. Men might come and go for both of them, but sisters were forever.
CLARICE HAD JUST SAT down at her desk with a cup of coffee and a story to edit when Tim Filmore swaggered up looking as if he had a secret to sell.
Clarice raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have some stories to write, Tim?”
“How about this for one? Mayor seen leaving town with playboy factory owner.”
The words delivered the blow of a two-by-four. “Perfect if you want to go work for the National Tell-All,” she managed to answer.
“Probably pay better,” he muttered, taking his leave.
“Probably would!” she called out after him, repressing the urge to add she’d be glad to send them his résumé.
Awful thought number one followed: she was in the same boat with Tim. They were both jealous! Awful thought number two: she’d talked to Annie less than an hour ago. Why hadn’t she said anything about going somewhere with Jack?
The answer was so obvious it hurt. She hadn’t wanted Clarice to know. So why? Because she hadn’t wanted her to think it was something it wasn’t? Or because it really was?
DAMN IT ALL to hell. J.D. thumped the steering wheel of his red Ferarri with the heel of his right hand. He hated L.A. traffic. He’d been out here a little over a year now, and he’d spent half that time sitting on one or the other of the city’s freeways.
Didn’t these people mind spending their lives lined up like ants waiting for a picnic? He threw a glance over his shoulder at the three lanes of cars beside him even though it was barely six o’clock in the morning. Nine out of ten drivers had a cell phone stuck to their ear.
A bad mood had hung over him like a stalled thunderstorm all morning. Ever since he’d picked up his mail and found a copy of the Langor County Times with a picture of his wife on the front page all cozied up with that born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-his-mouth Jack Corbin. They were at some sort of picnic at Corbin’s factory—the one he was apparently closing down.
And the kicker?
There was Tommy looking up at Corbin like he was his father or something!
Damn if he was going to put up with another man making his son forget all about him.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted a blonde in a black BMW giving him a Hey-baby stare. Chicks. This place was overrun with them. A guy could almost get his fill. And maybe he finally had. Cassie was about to drive him crazy. Certifiable.
He was getting sick of her near-daily manicure appointments and root touch-up sessions. And all she ever wanted to do was go out. This party or that club until J.D. forgot what it was like to actually eat dinner at home.
More than once in the last few days, he’d caught himself thinking about Annie and how their house had felt like a home. The house he shared with Cassie felt like a showroom where people only pretended to live. It left him with this gnawing emptiness inside that no matter how much he tried to ignore, never went away.
So maybe he’d liked the fast lane a little more than Annie had, but why couldn’t two people find something close to common ground? Some happy medium that worked for them both. Why couldn’t that be possible?
It could be. He was sure of it.
But J.D. had known Annie long enough to know
there was only one way he would ever get her back.
He pulled his own cell phone from his shirt pocket, hit the directory button, scrolled down until he found the name he was searching for and pushed send.
Four rings. “Russell, Wade.”
“Mike? It’s J.D. What’re you doing answering your own phone?”
“The receptionist is on a coffee run. Didn’t think we’d ever hear from you again since you moved West on us.” Mike Russell had played high school football with J.D., and the two of them had kept in touch over the years. During his short return to Macon’s Point, they’d gotten together for pizza and beer a few times. Mike had handled his divorce from Annie so he knew the nuts and bolts of the marriage’s demise. He was a sharp guy, an Ivy League attorney who likely could have made an enviable career for himself in some big city, but had opted for moving back to his hometown. Go figure.
“So how is life in the world of make-believe?”
“Pretty good,” J.D. said.
“Been seeing you on TV. Things must be going well.”
“Can’t complain. You seen Annie lately?”
“Yeah. Saturday night, as a matter of fact. Out at Lugar’s.”
“Was Tommy with her?”
“Ah, no,” Mike said. J.D. thought about Corbin. His face got hot. “She on a date?”
“I don’t know. Kinda looked like it.”
“Who with?”
“Jack Corbin. He’s about to close down the family business. Apparently, Annie’s been trying to change his mind. Maybe she was just trying a new persuasion tactic. Looked like it might be working.” Mike laughed.
“Is that right?” J.D.’s voice was cool. The mental image of that needled at him. Corbin had been a couple years behind J.D. and Mike in school. Smart as hell if he remembered right. Seems like he’d broken a couple track records at that fancy private school he’d gone to. And his family business had been the largest employer in town. J.D.’s father had actually worked there for a while.
“Probably wasn’t what it looked like,” Mike amended, sounding uncomfortable.
“Yeah,” J.D. said while something that felt remarkably like jealousy lit up low inside him.
“So what’s up, J.D.?”
The line of traffic J.D. was snagged in moved forward a few feet. He shifted into first and revved the Ferrari engine. “I want full custody of my son. Tell me what I need to do to get it.”
NEITHER ANNIE NOR Jack said much the first twenty miles or so out of town. Annie felt guilty for not telling Clarice where she was going. What if she saw them? What would she think? She wouldn’t have thought anything if you’d been up-front with her about the whole thing. As soon as they got back. As soon as they got back.
“So how was last night?” she finally found the voice to ask, aiming for casual.
“Nice,” Jack said. “Food was good.”
Annie glanced down quickly. “Good.”
“Clarice told me you were the chef.”
“Oh. Well, she—”
“—told me how you started cooking when you were thirteen. No wonder you’re so good at it.”
“I—thank you.” Flustered, Annie didn’t know what else to say. At the moment, she felt like a very bad, very disloyal sister.
A few seconds of silence ticked by. “Annie?”
She looked at him, something in his tone making her heart thump. “What?”
“I’m not exactly sure why I’m telling you this, but I’m not interested in Clarice in that way. She seems like a great person, but—”
“I don’t think we should be talking about this,” Annie said, the words coming out in a torrent. “I mean, she’s my sister and—”
“I know. A good one, it seems.”
“Yes. She is.”
Confusion settled over Annie like thick fog, blocking out all sense of direction. The safest spot seemed to be keeping her feet planted right where they were. A move in either direction might mean a fall from a really steep place.
They drove on a few miles, then merged onto 220 South. “This may end up being nothing more than a wild-goose chase,” Jack said in an obvious change of subject. “I hope it isn’t a waste of your day.”
“So what’s the lead?”
“Flea markets selling product that looks just like C.M. product.”
“And you think there might be a connection between that and the missing inventory.”
A horse farm lay ahead on their right. Two youngsters romped across one of the fields in what looked like a game of tag. Annie pointed at them. “Is there anything more beautiful than that?”
“My father was always crazy about them. I think out of all this mess, the thing I’m most torn about is what to do with his two old Percherons. They’re ancient, and they’ve lived at Glenn Hall all their lives.”
“Who’s been taking care of them?”
“Essie’s niece comes by twice a day to feed them.”
“Will you sell them?”
“Can’t stand the thought of it, but I don’t know what other choice I have.”
Annie pictured the two old horses she’d spotted in the field near Jack’s house when she and Clarice had gone out to see him. Sympathy tugged at her heart. What an awful decision to have to make. And yet the very fact that he was torturing himself with it gave further indication of his nonpermanent status in Macon’s Point. Not that she had questioned it.
“You know the way you talk about your dad doesn’t sound like the two of you didn’t get along.”
“I loved who he was then. Just not who he became.” Something on his face snapped closed. Annie saw it clearly. A window through which she had seen a boy’s adoration of his father dropping shut.
Part of her wanted to pursue it. But she quelled the urge. That was personal. This trip was not personal. She did not need to know anything else personal about him.
The drive to Kernersville was close to two hours. They hit I-40 just before Greensboro and followed it another forty-five minutes or so. Conversation between the two of them was sporadic and a little awkward. Something was different this morning. Some walls in place that hadn’t been there before. A distance that felt amplified by Annie’s guilty conscience.
Jack reached for a piece of paper on top of the dash and handed it to her. “Would you mind reading those directions for me? I looked before we left, but I don’t want to waste time getting us lost.”
“Exit 208,” Annie said. “Then right on Highway 57. Two miles on left.”
“Thanks,” Jack said.
The exit came up in just a couple of minutes. They followed the directions to a warehouse.
Jack turned in, stopped in front of a loading door.
They got out, walked to the door. Jack glanced over his shoulder, then tugged on the handle at the bottom of the door. He pulled on it harder. It gave, leaving a crack a couple of inches high at the bottom.
“Would you grab that flashlight out of the side pocket on my door, Annie? I don’t want to let this drop in case it won’t come up again.”
“Sure,” she said, jogging over to get it.
“Okay, if you don’t want to do this, just say,” he said.
“What?” She did a poor job of hiding her skepticism.
“While I hold the door, could you shine the light under? See if you see anything?”
Annie glanced up at the No Trespassing sign centered in clear view on the door. Her stomach dropped a little. “You are planning on bailing me out if we get caught, right?”
“Absolutely,” he said, smiling for the first time that morning.
He let go of the door, stuck out a hand and helped her up onto the concrete platform. She lost her balance a little and teetered forward into him. Looking up she found his gaze on her, something unreadable in it. The moment held as if someone had freeze-framed them. Annie felt overheated, as if she’d just run several miles past her level of endurance.
Surely, she had never been this aware of a man. All the clichés applie
d, and she understood then their origin. Because she really did have sweaty palms, and breathing suddenly required concentrated effort. Hard to believe so much could be said in the span of a few seconds, but if body language could be heard out loud, theirs would have sounded like a football stadium after a winning touchdown.
They both jerked into action at the same moment, he giving the door another heft, she flicking on the flashlight and squatting down on the concrete. “That’s not going to work.” She stretched out on her stomach facedown. “I’m going to call in favors for this one.”
“The view from up here just improved.”
Annie looked up quickly, and caught the smile on his far too good-looking face. Was he flirting with her? She felt a blush start at her toes, leap its way straight up to her neck. She ducked her head back down and peered under the bottom of the door. If, big if, that remark had been flirtatious, she had no idea what to do with it. Tim’s flirting, she knew what to do with. This, she did not. Anyway, she was wrong. Surely.
“What do you see?” Was it her imagination or did his voice sound different? A little hoarse?
“Just a second.” She focused on a shadowed object just inside the door and gave her vision a few moments to adjust. “Looks like a sofa. And a bunch of other furniture. Wood pieces. Hutches and stuff.”
“See any tags on anything?”
She flicked the light around, spotted a yellow sticker on one of the pieces. “Corbin Manufacturing,” she said.
“So it’s ours.”
Annie struggled up as gracefully as a prone woman on concrete can. Jack offered her a hand, but she said, “Got it, thanks.” Then felt a little silly at the look of surprise on his face. He was just being polite, Annie. Fair enough, but she was the one whose pulse went off like a rocket every time he touched her. Better just to avoid that altogether.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“That we need to get in this building.”
“As in breaking and entering?”
“Well, we’d rather not call it that. Let’s walk around, see what we see.”
A Woman Like Annie Page 12