Condemn Me Not

by Dianne Venetta

  “I was going to announce my promotion today,” Simone said quietly.

  Claire turned to Simone, gripped by the faint quality to her voice, eerie in its surrender to the events unfolding around them.

  “I imagined this to be a dual celebration of sorts,” she continued. “Mariah going her way into the world, me going mine. This day was supposed to begin a new chapter for us all.”

  “It still is,” Claire told her, scrutinizing the blank expression on her friend’s beautiful face, her makeup flawless, her hair combed to sleek perfection. Yet despite the festive occasion, Simone appeared forlorn, detached.

  Withdrawing her gaze from the girls, raw emotion swam in the brown of her eyes. “I know,” Simone replied. “Just not the one I was planning on.”

  Claire tried to smile. “Plans change.”

  The corner of Simone’s mouth tipped up. “I’m learning that.”

  “How did Len take the news?” Claire asked.

  “He wasn’t pleased. Tried to talk me out of it. Told me Ed would jump at the chance. Pete Smith, too.” Simone shrugged. “Those two, along with half the other VPs in the company.” She glanced out over the room. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Claire’s apprehension eased. “You know Len doesn’t think any of them can handle it like you. You were his pick.”

  She sighed. “Maybe, but he thinks I blew it. Said there might not be a next time.”

  “It’s an idle threat, Simone. When you’re ready, he’ll come up with another opportunity.”

  Simone gave a short shake to her head. “It’s neither here nor there. I’ve made my choice.”

  Claire followed Simone’s line of sight to Mariah. Logan stood behind her, his hand comfortably resting on her shoulder as Claire’s brother Rob entertained them, most likely with one of his horse tales.

  “Promotions come and go, but kids don’t,” she said.

  Claire nodded. “Well, call me selfish, but I’m glad you’ll be staying.”

  Simone turned to fully face her. “You won’t go through this alone. I’m going to be here every step of the way for you.”

  “Simone...”

  “But I’ll warn you right now...”—a glint of challenge lit up her eyes—“you’re getting a paint brush and easel for your birthday.”

  Claire laughed, pleasure coursing through her every pore. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “I don’t, and neither will you, Mrs. Atkins.” She placed a finger square in Claire’s chest. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  Simone turned back to the party and Claire wrapped an arm around her pal, hugging her close. She tapped her head to Simone’s. “I love you. And just to prove it, I’ll paint you a picture.”

  “I prefer something in the floral department,” Simone returned. “My patio’s a bit bare, and since I’ll be spending a lot of time there this summer...”

  Overcome by a sense of gratitude and love, Claire replied swiftly, “You got it. Flowers it is. And I’ll make them all your favorite colors.”

  Jim and Michael strolled up beside them. “How are you ladies holding up?” Jim asked, handing Claire a glass of ice water.

  “As well as can be expected when a woman has to say goodbye to her daughter,” Claire said, shifting her focus to the glass with a fleeting nod of thanks.

  “Who’s saying goodbye?” Simone pitched back. “I’ve officially become the parent of a Boomerang Kid!”

  The men laughed.

  Mitchell stroked her back. “Does the title still count if it was the parent who asked the child to stay?”

  She eyed him with mock warning flaring in her eyes. “Official or not, the grocery bill stays the same.”

  Mitchell kissed Simone and said, “I’ll cook less, if it will make you feel better.”

  Simone gave him the lamps, but without the heat. “Not a chance.”

  Truth be known, she was glad Mariah was staying home and the three of them would have more time together. Telling Len she wasn’t going to Chicago had been unexpectedly freeing. Not that the pressure to achieve was off, but the time table had been breached. The timeline for her career track had to be adjusted, which rendered old goals null and void. It felt new and fresh, like starting with a clean slate. How long before Mariah’s venture would prove itself one way or another was yet to be seen, but Simone was surprised that it didn’t much matter. It was like she and Mitchell were forging a new path, drawing new lines in the sand, contemplating new horizons as they stared into the sunset of their lives.

  Did she want to return to Chicago? It had been her plan from day one, but did she want it to remain so? What about North Carolina or Florida? Hell, why not California? Major financial institutions existed across America—she could take her pick of states! Once she had released her hold on Chicago, Simone realized she could go anywhere.

  “It must have been a hard thing for you to do, Simone,” Jim said, “giving up that promotion.”

  She turned to him and smiled. As a small business owner, Jim understood what it meant to strive and achieve. He understood competition, ambition. He also understood what it meant to say the buck stopped with him. Failure forever loomed, forever threatened. “It has its moments,” she said. “But then again, some of my most valuable lessons in life have been the hardest to come by. I’ll live through it.” And the more she said it, the more she’d believe it to be true.

  “Ditto,” Claire replied.

  Concern sideswiped Jim’s demeanor and Claire touched his forearm. “I’m talking about Sarah, honey.” Then to the group, she announced, “I received a journal from her yesterday.”

  “A journal?” Mitchell questioned.

  She nodded. “It’s going to be our way to reconnect.”

  Everyone understood the breadth of the statement, the lost years, the heartbreak of distance and time. Simone knew it lay at the crux of her resistance to Rebecca’s move to Paris. Claire had been devastated when her sister moved on, almost as though it were a personal insult to her. Even now, Simone noted how Claire clutched at her glass, her grip tighter than need be.

  “We have so much to talk about—the phone bills would be outrageous,” Claire continued, “so we’re going to write.” Claire’s budding excitement ballooned as she caught glimpse of Rebecca across the crowded room. Her daughter was absolutely glowing as she shared her big day with her friends.

  Immersed in her dreams, the adventure ahead, the girl was radiant, happier than Claire had ever seen her look. Her heart pitched. She was so proud of Rebecca. So proud of everything she’d accomplished to date, so proud of everything she had yet to do. Her baby was happy. Claire’s emotions squeezed within her chest. She couldn’t ask for more—other than to share the future with her.

  Today wasn’t about what she’d lost. It was about what her daughter was gaining.

  Would Rebecca forget her modest home in the suburbs of Boston? Would she become enamored with the glamorous life of Parisians, the rich history of the Champs-Élysées, the romance of lamp-lit boulevards? Maybe. But Claire would do everything in her power to keep the home fires burning in her daughter’s heart.

  While browsing the shelves of the bookstore the day before, she’d picked out a journal to give to Rebecca as the two boarded the plane to France next month. Shiny red leather with gold-edged pages, it had the image of a globe embossed on the front cover. She’d chosen it because she wanted her daughter to know that she supported her travels. Around the continent, around the world, wherever Rebecca went—she would support her. She would not lose touch. Claire’s heart constricted, and she forced herself to breathe. Breathe in, breathe out, that’s what the doctor told her. Relax.

  “She’s gonna be all right,” Jim murmured beside her.

  Claire nodded, privately vowing not to lose touch with her daughter. Not for one day, not for one hour, not for one second would she lose touch with Rebecca. She’d made that mistake once. She would not do so again.

  “She’ll fi
nd her way and make something of herself, you’ll see.”

  “I know,” she mouthed to her husband, overwhelmed by the sentiment. Claire didn’t doubt him for a second. But how was a woman’s worth measured—her family and home life? Her success at the office? How did one decide there was value in her contribution? And who should do the defining? Parents, society?

  She shook her head, lifted her shoulders a little higher and glanced about the room. Her children were surrounded by affection. They were happy and healthy and she couldn’t ask for more. Claire’s life held value—because she loved, because she was loved. And Simone. She gathered her best friend close within her sights. Mitchell’s arm was comfortably around his wife’s waist, the two standing shoulder to shoulder, proud and confident. Simone was no different. She loved, and she was loved, the two a solid team. They were a partnership in every sense of the word.

  “Congratulations,” Teresa said, idling up behind the group.

  Everyone turned toward her, Claire seized by a fleeting tension. Of course Teresa would be in attendance. Had she and Simone made amends? “Thank you,” she said quickly, her gaze darting to Simone.

  Dark eyes sparked with challenge as Teresa said, “You’ve raised a fine young woman. You too,” she added, including Mitchell in her praise. She arched a brow and glanced in Mariah’s direction. “To hear her tell it, she’s got some pretty big plans ahead of her.”

  “Yes, she does,” Simone replied, a touch too cool for Claire’s comfort.

  Teresa smiled. “You should be proud of her.”

  Simone looked Teresa and responded head on, “I am.”

  “We are,” Mitchell agreed.

  Teresa chuckled, mirth simmering in her expression. “She told me about your promotion.” Emotion swamped her eyes, glittering in the black of her gaze beneath the bright chandelier. “I’ve got to hand it to you. You’re a great mom.”

  Simone stared at her sister.

  Claire stood by in stunned silence.

  “You raised a sharp, intelligent and loving child whom you obviously love more than your career. I’m proud of you, Simone. Not every career woman would have done that.”

  The first hint of pleasure pulled at Simone’s lips.

  Mitchell hugged Simone to his side. “I didn’t marry just any career woman.” He pecked her cheek. “I married the top of the line.”

  Relief flooded into Claire’s chest. “That you did,” she said to him, and allowing her gaze to drift about the room, the people, the celebration, she inhaled the comfort of her closest friends and family. It filled her with peace. It filled her with satisfaction. She was happy. They were happy. Living was about being with family, celebrating love.

  # # #

  The End

  Did you enjoy the read? Would love to hear your thoughts! Take this link to the Amazon review page for Condemn Me Not - http://ow.ly/hpikp

  About the author:

  Dianne Venetta lives in Central Florida with her husband, two children and their part-time Yellow Lab Cody-boy! An avid gardener, she spends her spare time growing organic vegetables, surprised by what she finds there every day. Who knew there were so many amazing similarities between men and plants? Her discoveries provide endless fun on her garden blog, BloominThyme.com.

  Look for Dianne Venetta’s other novels:

  JENNIFER’S GARDEN

  LUST ON THE ROCKS

  WHISPER PRIVILEGES

  # # #

  Coming April 2013: The Ladd Springs series

  Read an excerpt…

  Chapter One

  Crouched in the Tennessee mountain brush, Delaney Wilkins pushed up from her knees and moved further into the thicket for a better view. Beneath the canopy of laurel and oaks, the scent of wet earth and decomposing leaves rose thick in the air around her. She craned her head to look between the trees. Some blackened, others gray, trunks stood in varying stages of decay, victims to the slew of storms that ripped through the area several years back. From what she could tell, there were two of them. Two strangers. By the outline of their build, the rough jerk to their movements, they appeared to be men. But gender didn’t matter. Trespassers were trespassers and they were on her land.

  Delaney held her breath and suppressed all thought but one. No one was supposed to be in this part of the woods. Whoever they were, they were trespassing. Did they venture too far off the USFS trail and get lost?

  Her instincts hummed. These two were up to no good, she was sure of it. They seemed pretty intent on whatever it was they were doing to be lost hikers. She could hear their voices, but was unable to make out the details of their conversation, or what—exactly—they were doing. Damn it, she had to get closer.

  A quick survey of her surroundings told her the answer wasn’t here. Not unless she wanted to take up cliff diving down the slope before her, causing a ruckus that would obviously reveal her presence. Delaney scanned the upper ridge beyond the men. The trail behind her would take her to the top, but it was a twenty minute hike at a good clip. She dropped focus back to the strangers. But they could be gone by then. There was one other way. She spied the narrow trail leading off to her left. It was a footpath she had forged years ago, one created as her secret weapon in games of “seek and destroy” played with her cousin, Jeremiah Ladd. It was their version of “hide and seek” and at one time, she had used the trail to kick his butt. At the moment, it would serve to get her thirty feet closer. Unfortunately, the pace she’d have to travel to remain undetected would prove excruciatingly slow.

  Delaney considered her options. Her Palomino, Sadie, was tied to a post at the base, the landmark her family had built to mark the opening for this trail. If she had to get anywhere fast, she knew Sadie would take her. Though physical confrontation wasn’t her concern—not with the pistol holstered snug in her boot.

  Gravel and sticks crunched behind her. A thunderbolt of fear slammed into her. Shooting hand to boot, she whirled, ready to pounce.

  “Hi,” came the whisper.

  With a sharp intake of breath, Delaney recovered from the initial shock and took in the unexpected sight of Nick Harris. What the hell?

  There, in the middle of the path, the six foot four man stood like a fool.

  Balancing herself with a hand to a cold rock, she waved him downward. “Get down,” she hissed, her pulse continuing to hammer. Surprise swirled around the distinct mark of suspicion teeming in his swarthy black eyes as he spied the hand sliding free from her boot. With a quick check on her quarry, she growled under her breath, “And be quiet!”

  Squatting, he glanced in the direction she’d been looking and asked, “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” she said, her focus darting between him and the men. “Why are you following me?”

  “I saw your horse tied to the post and became concerned.”

  “Don’t be,” she snapped.

  Across the woods, the men rose to their full height and it was then Delaney got her first decent look at them. One was tall and bulky, the other was short and wiry. Wearing tattered cowboy hats and dirty T-shirts, they weren’t tourists. Were they squatters?

  Laughter punctuated the quiet, drawing Nick’s quick attention. “Who are they?” he demanded instantly.

  “Don’t know,” she replied, wondering what the men would do next.

  “Let’s get out of here.” He came forward and pulled at her arm. “Those men could be trouble.”

  Delaney shot him a hard glance and jerked away from his grasp. “Those men are trespassing on my land. If anyone needs to get out of here, it’s them.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “If they’re trespassers, you need to call the police.”

  She privately scoffed at the notion. Calling the police would not help her discover why they were here. It would only alert these men to the fact that she was onto them. The larger man suddenly slapped the shorter on the back and said something, but not loud enough for her to discern the first word. Angst shimmied through her belly
as they collected their belongings. They were leaving!

  Within seconds, the strangers took off in the opposite direction. Delaney shot to her feet. Where were they going? That trail didn’t lead back to the government forest land. It led straight back to her cabin.

  “I’m getting you out of here,” Nick said, his voice closing in on her back.

  Delaney wasn’t going anywhere, especially with Nick Harris. “I’m going after them,” she said, right after she searched the vicinity from whence they departed.

  “Oh, no you’re not.” Nick encircled a large, firm palm around her bare bicep.

  Hot and unwelcome against her skin, his hand tightened. The hair on the nape of her neck prickled in rebellion. She turned to him and looked up into his face, noting his thick brow gathered in a storm of its own. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not about to let you run off and chase after strangers. Those men could be up to no good.”

  “You’re damn right they are—and on my property!” Delaney yanked her arm only to find it immovable. “Let me go,” she spat.

  “No.”

  At the force of his objection, she stopped. Glaring at him, Delaney performed a rapid assessment of the situation. While trained in physical defense, taking on the over two hundred some-odd pound muscular Mr. Harris was not what she wanted to be doing at the moment. She wanted to get over there and find out what those two men had been doing. She wanted to follow them to see where they were going. She stared up at Nick, her displeasure intensifying as she noted the hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why are you here again?”

  “I told you. I saw your horse back there without you on it.” He relaxed into a smile. “I became concerned.”