by Josie Brown
Well, tonight, he’d make it a point to find out.
11:44 a.m.
“The boss will see you now,” said Jen, Ally’s assistant.
Ally winced. “Since when is Ellis Conway my boss?”
Jen pursed her lips. “Sorry, Ally! Honestly, it was a slip of the tongue. Of course, he’s not your boss.” She blushed. “It’s just that…Well, I’m feeling a bit stressed right now, what with you working just part-time, and with all the layoffs going on around here. Did you know they’ve got me doubling as his assistant, too?”
“You’re kidding!” Ally shook her head, confused. “What layoffs?”
“A third of the customer service staff and half of Foot Fetish’s warehouse personnel got laid off just after Christmas.” Jen frowned. “Didn’t you get the memo?”
“Apparently not.” Ally felt guilty. No, make that angry. Was Ellis purposefully keeping her out of the loop?
She had started the company. When she sold it to Bracknell Industries, the corporation’s board insisted she be part of the package. She agreed to do so, but only part time, now that Zoe was the single most important part of her life. One of Bracknell’s rising stars, Ellis Conway, had come onboard to run the day-to-day operations.
Suddenly the idea of asking him to advocate Bracknell’s investment in her pie shop proposal seemed futile.
But Ally’s trump card was her knowledge that her continued role in Foot Fetish was integral to its financial success. She was its tastemaker. She was the one with the connection with footwear designers. As recent as last quarter, sales had been doing better than their CFO’s projections. How had things come off the rails the past few weeks, and during their busiest season no less?
That was the first question she asked Ellis.
He swatted away her concern. “Ally, you’re over-reacting. It’s got nothing to do with you, believe me.”
“You’re wrong. Everything about this company has to do with me. Including the layoffs which, by the way, no one informed me were about to take place, nor any explanation as to why they were necessary!”
“That’s quite a presumptuous statement for a part-time employee who would prefer to be a full-time mommy, isn’t it?”
She wanted to slap the smirk off Ellis’ face. To keep her cool, she murmured, “Unless she’s the founder of the company, and she still sits on its board. So tell me. Why are you fucking up so badly?”
Ellis blanched at her question. “I’m not. It has nothing to do with me. I’m just following orders. The Bracknell men’s apparel division has a large customer support staff. Why duplicate efforts here when we can lateral the calls there?” He shrugged. “The same thing goes for our warehouse facilities. Corporate already has it covered. We’re just cutting out service redundancies.”
“But shoes are something women find personal. Customer support has to be trained to best explain their advantages! And my warehouse guys were handpicked because they were quick and efficient.”
Ellis put his hand on Ally’s shoulder. She tried not to shudder, but she couldn’t help it.
Feeling it, he frowned and pulled away.
Damn it, she thought. I’ve blown it. Now Ellis won’t give my pie shop proposal a second glance.
“Your renewed commitment is refreshing,” he said icily. “In fact, word from above is that we’ll be expanding Bracknell’s corporate board. If you want to suggest a candidate, Mr. Bracknell is all ears. Then again, I doubt your mommy duties have allowed you to rub shoulders with anyone with the biz chops to make the list.”
“As a matter of fact, I could recommend Brady Pierce, if you want. He is—I mean, he and his wife are dear friends.”
She regretted the retort even as the words left her mouth. What the hell was she thinking? If Brady sat on the board with her, it would be more difficult than ever to be simply friends.
Friends. Really, could they ever be just that?
Who am I kidding, she wondered.
“You know the Brady Pierce?” Ellis’s eyes glimmered with new respect for her. “Well, well, well! I’ll certainly pass that tidbit to Mr. Bracknell. Now, what was it you needed from me?”
Ally shrugged nonchalantly, but her heart was racing. For once, she might actually have Ellis on her side. She smiled up at him. “I’ve put together a prospectus on a new business, something Bracknell may want to get in on the ground floor.” She handed him the prospectus folder for Life of Pie.
“A pie shop?” He raised a brow.
“Really, it’s the prototype for a bakery chain, with pie as its focus. Haven’t you heard? Pie is the new cupcake. My research bears out its potential.”
He smiled. “Hmmm. Intriguing. I’ll be sure to pass it upstairs.” Without further ado, he shut his door. But through the glass wall, she noticed he’d already opened the file.
At least, he’s reading it, Ally thought.
She didn’t know what made her more excited, the thought that Bracknell would finance the pie business, or that she and Brady might have a good excuse for seeing each other on a regular basis.
Just as friends, of course.
As if.
4:00 p.m.
The moment Bettina saw Caligula’s bitch, Zenobia, it was love at first sight.
Granted, the Tibetan mastiff’s swollen belly—not to mention her painful panting, groaning, and farting—did little to reinforce the nobility of Zenobia’s bloodline.
Bettina was willing to look beyond these temporary trifles. After all, the dog had been best of breed and best of show, a prizewinner many times over. The pick of Zenobia’s litter would be a worthy addition to the Connaught-Cross household.
Sybil Vidal, Zenobia’s owner, was a six-foot-two-inch redheaded giant. She laughed raucously when Bettina inquired as to the price of the pick of the litter. “Ten thousand dollars. But sorry, the pick already has a commitment. All of Zenobia’s picks are committed at least four years in advance. And there are three back-up commitments.” Sybil squatted beside Zenobia. “In fact, the sonogram shows she’ll be delivering eight pups. Seven of them are already spoken for. However, if you’re so inclined, you can purchase the runt.”
Bettina raised her head high. “I don’t think you understand. This is for Lily.” She pointed to her daughter, who was hovering in a far corner.
The poor girl looked close to tears. “Mommy, it’s okay. Maybe I don’t need a puppy. Not one from a smelly, scary old dog, anyway.”
Lily’s faux pas were rare, but from the look on Sybil’s face, this one would have to be addressed post haste if Bettina were to salvage the purchase. “What my daughter means to say is that she is humbled in the presence of Zenobia, and hopes she can live up to the honor of owning any one of the priceless pups blessed to be of her bloodline.”
Sybil sighed. “I doubt she will. Perhaps a more suitable pet will be found at the SPCA? It’s on Alabama Street.” She reached for a pen and a notepad. In a moment she was scribbling what looked to be a street map. “From here, all you have to do is wind your way up Portola and back down the other side of the hill. Eventually, you’ll hit Market. Then it’s a short drive through the Mission to Alabama—”
Bettina snatched the pen from the woman’s massive hand. She rummaged in her pocketbook until she found what she was looking for, her checkbook. Opening it, she turned back to Sybil. “I guess I’m not making myself clear. I’m willing to pay whatever it costs to ensure we get the pick of Zenobia’s litter. How much did you say? Ten thousand?” She wrote out the check and signed it with a flourish.
“As I said before, that option is not on the table. More to the point, are you willing to take what I have to offer? Runts aren’t show dogs, but they make great pets. You did say it was for your daughter, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course it’s for Lily! But it’s also for me! I mean, it will be our family’s dog.”
“Good! Then we have an agreement.” Sybil glared down at Bettina.
Bettina shrugged. Perhaps she was being sill
y. Who was to know if the dog were the pick or the runt? Besides, if she gave it enough vitamins, with its superior blood line, she had no doubt it could be another Caligula in no time.
“Okay then, I’ll take the…runt.” The word seemed to stick in her throat. “How much?”
Sybil snatched the check from her hand. “This will do.”
Bettina grabbed it back again. “But ten thousand was for the pick!”
Sybil glared at her. “I never said that. You did. In fact, you said any dog with Zenobia’s bloodline is ‘priceless.’ No arguments there. Take it or leave it. I have others who’ll gladly pay the price.”
Bettina glanced over at Zenobia. The dog had flopped down on her side beside her feed dish. Her wheezing was so loud that Lily had covered her ears with her hands.
Bettina couldn’t blame her. The dog looked as if it would expire at any moment. And yet, she couldn’t shake the memory of that massive stud Caligula. So grand! So noble! So obedient!
Slowly she let go of the check.
Sybil examined it before sticking it in her pocket. “Zenobia is due any day now. That said, her pups should be weaned by Valentine’s Day.”
“Here’s hoping it’s a happy birth day,” Bettina muttered. “Come, Lily.”
The little girl didn’t have to be asked twice. She was out the door in a flash.
4:55 p.m.
Usually at midday, tiny, gated Allyne Park, at the corner of Gough and Green, was filled with idlers playing hide-and-seek with any of the sun’s rays that had found its way through the park’s tallest redwoods. But at five o’clock on a blustery January evening, the sun had already dipped behind the grand old apartment building on the park’s west side, leaving it empty except for a young collie and its owner, a father teaching his three-year-old son how to kick a soccer ball. The man’s wife, large with child beneath her cashmere coat, sat on a nearby bench. She was reading the latest edition of the Nob Hill Gazette.
But no, they weren’t alone. Brady was already there, sitting on one of the benches tucked behind a copse of redwoods. When he saw Ally, he stood up. That’s when she noticed he was holding two dozen long-stemmed roses: pale yellow, with tips that looked as if they’d been dipped in a warm pink paint.
She hesitated before opening the old wrought iron gate that separated her from the man she wished was free to love her.
Finally, she slid the gate’s lock to one side. Each step she took toward him made it harder for her to stick to her decision to let him go.
“The florist called them ‘Chicago Peace.’” He shrugged. “I just thought they were pretty.”
She nodded. “They are. But really, Brady, you shouldn’t have.”
Realizing she wasn’t going to take them, he dropped his arm to his side. The stems were so long the petals almost touched the grass.
The collie came by and sniffed them, then crouched down, wagging his tail. When he realized Brady wasn’t about to play with him, he leaped and pranced, then got back down on his haunches with a whine.
Brady laughed. “You see? He appreciates them. Why can’t you?”
Ally shrugged. “I’m not the one you should be buying them for.”
On the drive from Foot Fetish to the park, she had worked out everything she was going to say to him. Like how dropping Jade for her would ruin things for both Oliver and Zoe. And how Jade would be heartbroken.
Even if that didn’t mean anything to Brady, it certainly mattered to Ally.
She was just about to launch into her argument for why they should keep it simple and just stay friends when she noticed something on his cheek: an eyelash.
She reached up very gently with her index and middle finger and whisked it away.
He took her fingers and placed them on his lips.
Slowly she pulled her fingers away. This left his lips hovering over hers.
She couldn’t help herself. She kissed him.
No really, she devoured him.
When she felt his arms around her, she heard the collie barking like crazy, and she knew he had tossed the roses on the ground.
She also knew she wasn’t going to be keeping her promise to herself, or to Jade.
She broke away, gasping for air. “I hate myself.” She buried her head in her hands.
He tilted her head so that they were eye to eye again. “Why would you say that? Why do you feel that way?”
“Because…because I never wanted to be ‘the other woman.’”
Brady shook his head in disbelief. “How can you be ‘the other woman’ if there is no first ‘woman?’”
“Lower your voice, please.” Ally nodded toward the family.
There was no way the mother could have overheard her. Still, almost as if she had read Ally’s mind, the woman slowly heaved herself off the bench and beckoned her husband to follow her out the gate. She whistled for the collie, too, but he leaped away before she could tether his collar to the leash in her hand. Seeing that the gate was already open, the dog scurried out. The woman chased behind him.
Realizing her dilemma, the woman’s husband grabbed the soccer ball in one hand while he hoisted their son up onto his shoulders with the other, and headed out the gate after his wife.
One and a half kids and a dog, thought Ally. The typical American family. They love each other. They’re building a life together. No clinging exes, no gay fake husbands. No need for a sperm donor in order to beat your biological clock…
No jumping through hoops to get into some silly club.
You choose what you lose in life, Ally conceded. Brady will have to wait.
“Brady, as much as you like to pretend otherwise, Jade is still in love with you. Yes, of course she wants to be a part of Oliver’s life. But she also wants to be a part of yours.”
He shook his head adamantly. “It’s not going to happen. I’ve made that clear to her.”
“Have you, really?” Ally cocked her head to one side. “Be honest. Since she’s moved in, have the two of you…I’m asking you if you…Have you made love to her?”
His silence spoke volumes.
Finally, he turned his head toward the street. “Yes, you’re right. I screwed up! And I wish things were different. But for the time being, they are what they are.”
“That’s why we can’t move things forward. Not now, anyway.” She dropped her head until she was staring at their entwined fingers. She marveled at his. They were long, lean, and tan. She imagined them roaming all over her body, tempting her with his touch, opening her to his love…
The thought made her blush.
And it made her want him even more.
She opened her mouth to tell him so, to admit she couldn’t live without him and that she was even willing to leave PHM&T if need be, when they heard the screech of tires and a bone-chilling scream.
Someone was shouting for an ambulance.
Instinctively both Brady and Ally’s eyes went to the street corner. The family had left the gate open, and the collie, frantic, ran back into the park, barking and growling before it leaped back out again.
By the time Ally and Brady reached the street, a crowd had gathered. One man was routing cars around the father, who lay in the street, screaming in pain. His legs and arms were askew like a broken doll. The leash was in his hand. The driver of the car that must have hit him was leaning over him, chanting his apology like a desperate mantra, over and over again.
The stricken man’s wife struggled to hold her wailing son in her arms before the boy ran into the street to comfort his father. She shifted her gaze toward the park. Seeing Ally, she screamed, “Look at what you’ve done! Look at what you’ve done!”
Is she right? Ally wondered. Did I leave the gate open when I entered the park? No, I couldn’t have…
Oh my God! What have I done?
But no, the woman wasn’t screaming at Ally. She was shouting at the collie.
The dog whined mournfully before trotting off down the street, morose and lost.
&
nbsp; Ashamed, Ally turned around. Her instinct was to go back into the park. But why? It wasn’t as if she could turn back the clock.
There was nothing waiting for her there.
As she sobbed, Brady cradled her head to his chest.
She stayed there in his arms until the ambulance came and left with the injured man and his family. Slowly, the crowd dissolved, and cars once again glided right over the spot where the man had lain.
“I should drive you home,” Brady murmured in her ear.
“No!” She shook her head. “No. You should leave.”
As if reading her mind, he said, “It’s not your fault, Ally. I know for a fact you closed the gate. And even if you had left it open, the accident could have been caused by any number of variables. The driver of the car should’ve been more alert. Or maybe he shouldn’t have been going so fast. At the very least, the damn dog should have been on a leash!”
“I don’t want the guilt, Brady! It hurts too much!”
“You’re overreacting. You’re projecting your feelings about…about us onto this freak accident.”
Before he could say another word, she put her fingers on his lips. She remembered doing that before. It seemed like a million years ago.
“Let’s go home and hold our babies,” she whispered. “I’ll call you, soon.”
She allowed him to walk her to her car.
They both knew the decision she had already made.
Still, she knew he’d wait for her call.
Chapter 5
Thursday, 10 January
1:48 p.m.
“Who was that on the phone?” asked Lorna.
She’d been pacing impatiently by the front door for the past twenty minutes in anticipation of her mother’s arrival. “Was it Hera? She rarely comes into the city. And when she does, she gets lost at the drop of a hat. If need be, I can meet her down at the corner of Van Ness and Vallejo, to show her how to get up here—”
“Whoa! Calm down and take a deep breath.” Matthew’s soft, soothing tone was the same one he used when he played with Dante. “It was only Bettina. She wanted you to meet her at Mother’s today to go over the details of the Easter egg hunt. I told her you had to hang here.”