"We don't have any choice," she'd reasoned with Evan as she prepared to go on her own job search. "We have a family to feed and a mortgage to pay. Besides, you'll find something else in no time. It doesn't really matter which one of us brings home the paycheck, as long as it's there."
But it had mattered to Evan. It had mattered far too much as she'd discovered during the bleak months that followed.
"Evan resented me," she finally said to Janice. She didn't bother to turn around. "After he lost his job, he resented the fact that I supported the family, and he was jealous because I had no trouble landing that job as a financial advisor with Pacific Investments. And he was jealous because I made just as much money as he ever had." When she returned to the table, her face was as expressionless as her voice had been.
"He was wrong," Janice said bluntly. "He had no right to be jealous of your success. All the while he was climbing the ladder, you were there—behind him all the way."
Her words were no less than the truth. Angie had been proudly supportive of Evan. Busy with a home to run and a small child to raise, she really hadn't had time to regret not making use of her education. And Evan had really preferred that she stay at home.
"It certainly wasn't your fault that no one wanted to take a chance on him because the bank folded," Janice continued hotly. "If anyone—or anything—is to blame, it's the economy. Is there anyone it hasn't touched? When the bottom dropped in the housing industry, everyone's been hit hard. And with cutbacks everywhere, Bill was even laid off for a while." Bill was an electrician who sub-contracted out for builders.
Angie ran a finger around the rim of her cup. "At least before he was rehired, he had enough sense to keep looking for a job," she recalled quietly. "Evan just... gave up."
It was then that the situation at home had worsened. Evan had come from an old-fashioned family, and Angie had always secretly thought of his father as rather domineering. Very much a man's man, interested in hunting, fishing and sports of all kinds, Evan had found it frustrating that he was no longer the chief breadwinner. He had become jealous and resentful of her success, bitter at the world and everyone around him.
Especially Angie—Angie whom he had promised to love, honor and cherish. The fabric of their marriage had been in tatters. Evan had become angry and surly. Countless times Angie had returned home from a hectic day at the office, nearly dropping on her feet, to find the house a mess and Evan nursing a six-pack of beer, his eyes glued to the television set. She hadn't been able to fault his care of the children, but no matter what she did or didn't say, did or didn't do, Evan had sniped at her, yelled at her, streamed at her.
Angie's nerves had begun to fall apart with the strain she was under. She loved Evan, but she simply hadn't been able to stand the present situation any longer. "Evan, this can't go on," she had told him quietly one night after the girls had been tucked into bed.
Another argument had ensued. Angie had tried to reason with him, calm him. Too late she had realized the amount of liquor he had consumed. Then it happened.
He had been as shocked as she was by what he had done. "God, Angie," he'd cried hoarsely. "I didn't mean to hit you, I swear." They had wept in each other's arms then while he begged forgiveness.
She supposed she was lucky it had only happened twice . . . Twice. Yet even if he had only struck her once, she couldn't have been more shattered.
She took a deep, cleansing breath, trying to control the sudden churning of her insides. Something of her thoughts must have shown in her face. Her eyes flickered to Janice, who watched her closely.
"I'm sorry, Angie," her neighbor said gently. "Maybe we shouldn't even be talking about Evan, especially when I know how bad things were for the two of you."
Bad? Angie fought to control a mocking laugh. That was far too mild a word to describe the hell Evan had put her through. Evan had hurt her so much, robbed her of her dignity, her sense of self-worth.
But it hadn't been just his physical abuse, the abuse she had hidden from everyone, including Janice. She'd been so eager, so vibrantly aware of her own sensuality when her marriage had begun. It hadn't ended that way—far from it. She shook off the shadow of memory and forced herself to concentrate on Janice's voice.
"There are a lot of nice men out there," she was saying.
"And I've done quite well without one for two years now." This time Angie couldn't prevent the faint note of bitterness that crept into her voice. "I'm happy with my life as it is, and I'd like to keep it that way."
They had been friends too long for Janice to take offense. And if it hadn't been for the durability of their friendship, she was aware she'd have been testing its limits with the line of her questioning. "You're old enough to know what you want, Angie," she said evenly. "But you have Kim and Casey to think about, as well."
Angie knew Janice was talking about the lack of a father figure in their lives. For a second she almost wished she could pretend she hadn't heard her. But she found her eyes drawn to the scene just outside the kitchen window.
Bill Crawford had just pulled into the driveway. A big, robust man with a thatch of reddish-gold hair, he worked as a purchasing agent at a nearby lumber mill. Apparently he had heard the commotion in the backyard. Nancy and Casey were laughing and giggling, huddling around his feet. As she watched, Eric toddled across the patio and launched himself at his father's legs.
The only one absent, as Angie had already known she would be, was Kim. Her eight-year-old body all arms and legs in her swimsuit, she had moved away to sit on the edge of the picnic table. She saw Bill smile and call out something to her, but Kim only nodded and drew her towel more tightly around her thin shoulders.
The child's shyness around men was something that hadn't appeared until after Evan's death. It bothered Angie more than she cared to admit. She supposed Janice was right: it was, in part, due to the lack of a male presence in the home. But there wasn't an easy solution.
She didn't say anything for the longest time. Then her gaze swung back to meet Janice's. "I know," she said quietly. "Casey was only two when Evan died, so she doesn't really remember him. But Kim...well, she's even shy with Bill and she's known him for years." She mulled over the implication of her words. "Can you imagine what she would do if I brought someone home and said 'Look, sweetie, here's your new daddy.' You know how she idolized Evan. I think she would resent any man who wasn't her father."
There was a sympathetic look in Janice's eyes as she nodded. Then she hesitated. "Kim and Casey aren't the only ones I'm concerned about." A frown appeared
between her dark eyebrows. "What about you, Angie? I know how you value your career, but you have so much else to give. Children are fine, but sooner or later they leave the nest. I hate to think of you spending the rest of your life alone."
Angie injected a light tone into her voice. "You and Georgia must be in league together. She was telling me the same thing just this afternoon." At the concern she saw reflected in Janice's eyes, she found herself yielding. It was strictly for her friend's benefit, but she heard herself say, "Maybe someday, Jan. Maybe someday." But not now, she added silently.
And maybe not ever.
***
Just around the corner from the Crawfords was Angie's house. The neighborhood was an old one, though over the years the streets had been widened and sidewalks added. Dainty flowering plum trees bordered the walkway in the block where Angie lived, and in the next stately oak trees shielded the thoroughfare.
Her house was a rambling Victorian structure flanked by a wide veranda. A sun porch had been added shortly before she and Evan had purchased it, and while Evan had thought it made the house appear slightly unbalanced, Angie had thought it lent a certain charm.
"You look pretty, Mommy," a little voice piped.
"Thank you, sweetie, so do you." Angie turned to smile at the small figure perched on the side of the wide brass bed. Aside from the one blond pigtail that had escaped its confining band and the trail of spaghetti s
auce at one corner of her mouth, Casey did indeed look very pretty in her pink gingham sundress, which was tied at each shoulder.
She frowned over at her youngest daughter. "Casey, didn't you wash your face after dinner?"
"Nope." Impish blue eyes sparkled.
"And you didn't brush your teeth, either, I suppose."
The child looked at her as if she'd never heard of a toothbrush. Angie sighed and pointed her in the direction of the bathroom. "Go, young lady. And make sure you remember to turn off the water after you rinse." Two weeks earlier she had walked into the bathroom to find it nearly flooded after Casey had been inside to wash and to brush her teeth. She'd left the facecloth in the sink, and it had blocked the drain.
Five minutes later, Angie had finally managed to shoo Casey in the right direction. She braided her hair into a sleek coronet atop her head, and after dusting a light coat of powder over her face, she stopped to give herself a brief but critical glance in the mirror mounted behind the door.
The dress she wore was a simple ivory sheath shot through with silver threads. Slim, tapered sleeves fell to just below her elbow. The design was simple, almost plain, but on Angie the effect was sheer elegance. A single strand of silver gleamed against her throat, and matching studs glittered at her ears. The jewelry and the silver-heeled shoes were the only concession to her sex. She was, after all, in the business of running a city and she had chosen the majority of her wardrobe to create an effect that was more businesslike than womanly. Yet even if she wasn't mayor, she wouldn't have been inclined to buy frilly, fancy clothes.
Satisfied with her appearance, she moved to pick up her purse from the top of the bureau. It was then that she noticed Kim, dressed in shorts and a tank top, hovering near the doorway. Her eldest had Evan's thick, chestnut hair and deep brown eyes, and Angie suspected she would be tall like him, as well.
"What's on your mind, hon?" Angie crossed the polished oak floor and pressed a brief kiss on her daughter's forehead.
Kim smiled up at her. "Mrs. Johnson's here—" The sound of a cupboard door slamming downstairs brought her up short. She jumped, and for an instant there was a faint look of alarm in her eyes.
Sudden noises always affected her like that. They had for quite some time now. Angie knew better than to make an issue of it, however. She knew from experience that Kim would only clam up and retreat into that somber mood that disturbed her mother so.
Instead, she shook her head. "Casey must be into the cookies again. Try to keep her out of them so Mrs. Johnson doesn't have to do too much cleaning up after her, okay?" Mrs. Johnson lived next door and stayed with the girls in the evening if Angie had to be away. She was a spry and active sixty-year-old, the type who was there with a cloth before a drop of water could ever hit the floor. She was wonderful with the girls, but Angie worried about Casey wearing her out.
Kim nodded obediently. One bare toe nudged a braided rug in an oddly uncertain gesture that tugged at Angie's heart. She sensed that Kim hadn't come solely to tell her Mrs. Johnson had arrived.
"All right, young lady, out with it," Angie said cheerfully. She pulled Kim over to the bed, then sat down beside her.
At Kim's silence she squeezed her daughter's shoulder reassuringly. "Hon, you can tell me anything."
Angie lowered her head and added in a conspiratorial whisper, "Mommy doesn't bite like Spooky does." Spooky was the family cat, a silver tabby who was rather independent and aloof. Nonetheless, Kim and Casey adored her. When she was in the right mood, she didn't mind the girls playing with her. But when she wasn't, she didn't hesitate to let them know. And unlike other cats, instead of scratching she tried to bite.
Angie's words earned a tentative smile. Then wide brown eyes turned up to her. "Mommy, is Todd coming here to pick you up?"
Her anxious whisper wasn't lost on Angie. If Todd and Angie were going to the same social function, he often picked her up at home beforehand and drove her home afterward. Sometimes he stayed for coffee.
But the concern Angie had felt such a short time ago at Janice's surfaced once more. "No," she explained, "Todd's been on vacation all week." Knowing Kim's normal reaction to men, Angie really hadn't thought much of her behavior. But for the first time she wondered if the child hadn't been more withdrawn than usual around Todd. She almost asked her if she disliked him and why, but Kim's face had lost its worried expression.
Angie's eyes lingered speculatively on Kim as she moved from the bed. At the dressing table she picked up a bottle of perfume and shyly asked if she could use it.
"Of course you can," Angie replied readily.
When she left the house a short time later, however, she couldn't help but be reminded of the child Kim had once been—so lively and vivacious, much like Casey. But after Evan died, Kim had retreated into her own little world, a shadow of her former self. It was so bad for a time that Angie had considered taking her to a child psychologist. Then, little by little, Kim had begun to respond once again. But she wasn't the same child she'd been before Evan's death. Angie suspected much of it stemmed from the sense of loss she'd felt over losing her father. It saddened her that both of them, mother and daughter, carried scars because of Evan.
For a moment she almost hated her dead husband. Even from the grave he hadn't lost his ability to hurt her.
***
Matt stood in the shadows just outside the French doors that led to the terrace. There was a thoughtful air about him as he leaned one broad shoulder against the doorframe and gazed into the crowded banquet room.
He hated affairs like this; they triggered unwelcome memories of the endless parties Linda had always insisted he attend with her, parties filled with frivolous chatter and plastic people. Granted, this wasn't on the same grand scale and the people weren't all affluent Chicago blue bloods. But the fact remained: if he wasn't the guest of honor, he wouldn't have come tonight. He'd have much preferred to spend the evening lounging around at home, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and watching the late movie on TV, instead of being trussed up in a three-piece suit and pretending he was having a good time. And it was exactly what he intended to do as soon as he left.
But something—someone—was keeping him here. He had scarcely been able to take his eyes off her since she had first entered the room. The dress she wore highlighted her blond beauty but, if anything, made her appear even more aloof. He had no trouble picturing her driving up in her Mercedes and handing her keys to the parking valet without a word. No doubt she lived in an apartment, probably decorated in sterile whites and cool glass, something like the one he and Linda had shared for the three years they'd been married. God, how he'd hated coming home, feeling he couldn't even relax by putting his feet up on the ottoman for fear of getting it dirty.
Yet with her quiet elegance, the golden wreath of her hair and her slender gracefulness, he couldn't deny the sensual image Angela Hall projected. Nor could he repress the memory of his long-ago fascination for the ever-elusive Linda. Linda, who had promised everything ... and given nothing. She had used her sensuality as a weapon, something to be given or withheld as the mood struck her.
Apparently he hadn't learned his lesson as well as he might have hoped. He couldn't deny that Angela Hall's icy demeanor both repelled and attracted him.
His mouth turned up in a self-deprecating smile. A know-it-all psychiatrist would probably say he was regressing to his childhood, always wanting what he couldn't have.
Just as he was about to step inside, he caught her movement in the crowd once more. In a minute he told himself. Just one more minute--
Again it struck him that, even while she was talking, laughing, the mayor maintained a certain distance, a cool detachment. Yet people liked and respected her, not only for her poise and polish but also for her accomplishments during her relatively short time in office. He'd learned that much in the week he'd been on the job. The thought was still with him as he watched a man come up to her and slip an arm around her shoulders. The gesture was friendl
y. There was nothing overly sexual about it. She was even smiling. Then gracefully, deftly, she slipped away and turned to someone else.
Matt's eyes narrowed. His mind sharpened. She was subtle about it, so subtle he doubted anyone else would have noticed. But it slowly dawned on Matt that this wasn't the first time tonight he'd seen it happen, and he could draw only one conclusion.
Angela Hall didn't like to be touched.
***
Angie spent an obligatory few minutes chatting with one of the county commissioners. She felt as if her lips would crack as she continued to smile and nod politely, but at this point his voice was a faint buzz in her head. Her feet hurt from the unaccustomed height of her heels, and she could feel a headache coming on. More than ever she wished she were home.
The commissioner finally wandered off, but Angie had no sooner turned than she saw Blair Andrews coming toward her.
Under any other circumstances, Angie wouldn't have minded butting horns with her, but right now she was simply too tired. She ducked for the nearest door—in this case, two—and breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief when, from the corner of her eye, she saw someone grab Blair's arm.
The doors led to a small, enclosed terrace. Angie stepped across the flagstoned surface to rest her hands against the railing of the balcony. Inhaling deeply, she filled her lungs with the cool evening air, and, unable to resist, she bent over to free her feet from their pinched confinement.
A low chuckle sounded behind her.
Angie whirled, startled by the unexpected sound. As an unfamiliar blush stained her cheeks, she was glad for the concealing cloak of darkness—especially when she saw that the voice belonged to Matthew Richardson.
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