So the MacKenzie table was intimate, with everything served family style in bowls and serving dishes Brynn was told had come west in covered wagons. All the tradition both overwhelmed and warmed her. Although she had a few precious mementos from her grandmother, there was little she could claim as family heritage. Brynn pictured her mother, no doubt outfitted in the latest ski wear, swooshing down the slopes with her latest young lover. Hardly a Norman Rockwell image.
A knot formed in her throat as Brynn thought of giving up warm moments like this; of not sharing more days with Matt; of walking out of his life forever.
As if in unspoken agreement, her eyes met his.
Although they were all grateful for Frank’s shaky presence at the table, Brynn noticed that Matt, too, was quiet. Feeling their time ticking away as though a pendulum marked each second, she sensed a desperation hovering darkly over the gay voices and happy chatter that ringed the table.
The wide double doors leading into the dining room were closed in order to keep the public out. Only the serving door to the kitchen was ajar. So when the double doors were suddenly flung open, everyone at the table reacted in startled confusion.
“Surprise!”
Silence filled the room before a babble of excitement and cries of joy erupted as nearly everyone jumped from their chairs.
Gregory stood at the entrance, as big as life. His mother, aunt, sister, and youngest brother hung all over him like birds on a scarecrow. Frank rose painfully to his feet, not bothering to check the tears that silently ran down his cheeks as he embraced his oldest son.
Brynn met Matt’s eyes, saw the indecision there before he, too, rose to hug his brother, then pound his arm in an age-old gesture of affection. Only Brynn remained rooted to her chair.
Well, the jig is up, she told herself. And the reckoning is now. She tried to summon up some of the feelings she’d had for Gregory—the hopeless infatuation that had fueled so many fantasies. But nothing stirred.
The MacKenzies took turns hugging Gregory, then hugging him again, before examining him, commenting on his thinness, then hugging him again. Brynn knew she should be happy for them. And in a strange, detached corner of her emotions, she was. But her joy for them was overwhelmed by her own despair.
Wishing she could escape, disappear into a quiet puff of invisible smoke, Brynn had to sit quietly since both entrances were blocked. The main door was filled with the family, the kitchen door blocked by beaming staff dying to share the special moment.
As the babble lowered to a mild roar, Gregory glanced around the room. When his puzzled gaze landed on her, Brynn straightened her spine, calling on her courage, wondering where the bottom of her stomach had disappeared to.
“Who—” Gregory began.
But Miranda clasped his arm, enfolding him in another hug. “You rootten boy. You’ve worried me sick.”
“Aunt Mir, you’re just put out because I didn’t send you chocolates from Paris like I promised.” Gregory’s smile flashed, lighting his handsome face, and gave her a tight hug.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming home?” Ruth demanded, sniffing away happy tears.
“I swore the State Department and my firm to secrecy. Thought it would be a nice holiday surprise.” As he spoke, Gregory glanced meaningfully at his father.
Frank returned his gaze with a steady look of his own. “Now we truly have something to be thankful for.”
Gregory clasped his father’s shoulder. “We all do.” From the telling gesture, it was clear that Gregory had learned about Frank’s close call and his still-precarious situation.
Turning back to the table, Gregory’s gaze landed again on Brynn. “You’ll have to intro—
“Gregory!” Miranda practically shrieked. “I know you barely got here, but I need to drag you away for a minute.” Not allowing him to answer, she literally tugged him through the doorway.
A chorus of voices protested.
“Miranda! But Brynn hasn’t even—”
“Won’t be a minute,” Miranda called out cheerily, slamming the dining-room doors.
Gregory walked along with her, a look of concern on his face. “Auntie Mir, are you okay?”
“That stands to be seen,” she replied, guiding him across the lobby to the library, leading him inside and then locking the door.
“Another kidnapping?” he joked.
But she took his hands, ignoring his light tone. “You know I love you dearly, Gregory. You’ve always been very special to me—my favorite nephew, in fact.”
He nodded.
“Even though you’re one of the most selfish people on earth.”
Gregory pursed his lips. “This isn’t exactly the homecaming I’d envisioned.”
“I’d break this to you gently, but there’s a roomful of people in there—not to mention a turkey waiting to be carved—that demand immediate attention. So here’s the scoop.”
Quickly she outlined Brynn’s appearance in their lives, the reason, and her subsequent attachment to all of them and their attachment to her. “So you see,” Miranda concluded. “You can’t go in there and just blow everything.”
“I don’t want to sound selfish, but it sounds like she set herself up for this fall,” Gregory replied.
Miranda shook her head as she stared at him. “The fact that this all began because Brynn thought she was in love with you didn’t even make a dent, did it?”
Without waiting for his answer, she continued: “But then, you’ve led your life with thoughts of only yourself—not that I’m suggesting you’re the bad seed—but being self-centered makes it hard to see something through another person’s eyes.”
The expression on Miranda’s face firmed as she went on. “You left Eagle Point without a care, dumping the entire load on Matt. Without asking you for help, he shouldered all the responsibilities, while watching firsthand as your father deteriorated day by day.”
Gregory hung his head for a moment. “I knew he was sick—I just didn’t know how seriously until the State Department briefed me.”
“You’d have known if you’d been in touch more. But Matt knew. And he still didn’t ask for your help—even though by tradition the responsibility belongs to the oldest son. Matt knew your dream wasn’t tied into Eagle Point so he didn’t burden you—because he loves you.”
Gregory had the grace to look embarrassed. “Aunt Mir, you talk like I don’t care about him.”
“I know you do. But you’ve got to know something else. Matt’s in love. With Brynn.”
Gregory’s mouth opened, then echoed with hollow laughter. “You’re kidding.”
“No. And she loves him.”
“Sounds cozy.”
“That’s exactly what it isn’t.” Miranda leveled him with a look he recognized from childhood. “And even though Matt fell in love with her, he did everything in his power to facilitate your release. He called out every favor, every card in his deck.”
“His friend in the State Department,” Gregory murmured. “I heard his name, knew my case had been given priority status, but I didn’t think...”
“Matt.” Miranda filled in the blank. “Despite how he feels about Brynn, he never stopping working to get you home. And he never let himself step over the line with the woman he thought was your wife.”
Gregory shrugged. “Well, now that I’m home and everybody knows we’re not married, they’ve got free rein.”
“Hardly.”
Gregory stared at his aunt. “Why not?”
“Because Matt and the rest of the family will think Brynn deceived them.”
“Well, she did.”
“How can you be so smart in business and so dense in life?”
“I hope there’s a good part coming, because frankly I can’t take much more of your enthusiastic welcome.”
She swatted his arm. “You know damn well how glad I am you’re safe. Now shut up.”
Gregory rolled his eyes.
“It’s up to you to get Ma
tt and Brynn out of this impossible situation.”
He lifted his brows. “You got any ideas about how to do that?”
“Well, of course. I can’t leave all the planning up to you.”
“I’m guessing you’ve given this some thought. Which means you figured out the truth. Why didn’t you nail Brynn?”
“Because she’s a love. She’s sensitive, sweet, charming and genuine. And she needs us as much as we needed her. She kept your father going and because of it, we all blackmailed her into staying, playing on her soft nature. She doesn’t deserve to lose everything. And Matt doesn’t deserve to lose her.”
Gregory sighed. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”
By THE TIME THE DOUBLE doors opened again, Brynn was ready to bolt from the table as though jet-propelled. Feeling like a prisoner being led to the gallows, she watched as Gregory approached. She swallowed, waiting for the noose to tighten.
Instead, Gregory picked up her hand and kissed it lightly. “Brynn, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’m not sure—”
“It couldn’t have been easy, pretending to be my wife.”
Brynn froze, afraid to look at the others.
“But you knew how important it was and the plan worked. You convinced everyone you really were my wife.”
Darting a glance around the table, Brynn saw the stunned amazement on everyone’s faces, the betrayal etched on Matt’s. She tried to speak.
But Gregory wasn’t through. “By convincing everyone you were my wife, you kept my real fiancée safe. Despite the State Department’s precautions, she wouldn’t have been completely protected from the kidnappers if they’d believed she was still my fiancée.” He smiled easily, enjoying his role. “Of course, that’s why we had to go through with the wedding photos, having some of them published in the paper. South American connections in this country are strong. She could have been snatched at any moment. I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving her life.”
The MacKenzies continued to stare, unable to take in the information, unable to process what it meant. From the corner of the room, Miranda sent Brynn a discreet thumbs-up. Of course, her ally.
It was an easy way out. A graceful escape that could allow her to salvage her relationship with the family and perhaps begin one with Matt. But it was a lie. And if living with Charlene Magee had taught Brynn anything, it was that a life based on a lie was worth nothing. Less than nothing if you spent the rest of that life chasing happiness that would always remain elusive.
Slowly Brynn withdrew her hands, then met Gregory’s eyes. “Thank you. I’m not sure why you did this, but I have a pretty good idea.” Briefly she looked at Miranda. “And I appreciate your trying to save me from my own deception, but your family deserves the truth.”
Slowly she lifted her head, her gaze gliding around the room, touching on the faces that had become so familiar, so dear. When she reached Matt’s, she faltered for a moment. Then she began, knowing she had to before her courage deserted.
“Part of what Gregory told you is true. I’m not his wife. But he wrapped the reasons for my tricking you into a pretty package. It’s not pretty, though. I didn’t pretend to be his wife to save his fiancée. I’m not even sure he has a fiancée. You see, I fell in love with an illusion—Gregory’s illusion. It certainly wasn’t his fault.” Her saddened voice faltered. “I doubt he ever knew I existed. But I built this fantasy world around him, believing one day he would know me. That’s why I had the wedding album made. It was just supposed to be my silly little secret. I never dreamed the photographer would send you a copy.”
Brynn lifted her hands plaintively, then lowered them to her sides as a helpless note crept into her voice. “And then when you all came and took me into your family, I knew it was wrong to keep on deceiving you. But by then I cared so much about all of you. I wanted to give you hope about Gregory. I wanted to be part of your family. I didn’t count on caring so much about you...or falling in love with your other son.” A hitch crept into her voice, breaking up her words. “I’m just so sorry.” Her gaze met Matt’s. “So very sorry.”
Biting down a sob, she ran from the room, not aware of the silence she left in her wake, the sense of disbelief. Or the babble that broke out a few minutes later.
Upstairs in her room, Brynn threw her things into a suitcase, not bothering with clothes, gathering only her work papers, not wanting to be loaded down with more than she could manage. Tears ran unchecked down her face as she snapped leashes on Lancelot and Snookems, then secured Bossy in his cage.
Using the back stairs, she crept down to the employee entrance. Spotting Dustin, one of the employees she knew fairly well, she approached him. “I know it’s Thanksgiving and I know how busy you are, but can you drive me to town, please? Just to Logan. I can get to Salt Lake from there. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency.” A hiccup punctuated her words and tears continued to stream down her face.
In typical male fashion, Dustin looked helpless in the face of female tears. “Sure. I’ll just tell Matt where I’m going—”
“No! I mean, is that necessary?”
“I’m on this shift,” he replied, obviously ill-equipped to handle a near hysterical woman. “I can’t just leave.”
Brynn felt her tears increase, barely able to focus as she trieo to wipe them away. A cool hand clasped her arm.
“I’ll drive her.”
Dimly Brynn recognized Tracy, the girl who’d been so kind since her arrival. “I’d—” Brynn’s voice hitched uncontrollably “—really appreciate it.”
“I just finished my shift,” Tracy told her. “And I’m going to Salt Lake to see my grandmother. She wasn’t well enough to come here for Thanksgiving—she had a hip replacement not long ago. My uncle and his family went to see her, but I’m staying with her tonight and coming back tomorrow afternoon. So, I can take you all the way into Salt Lake.”
Tears swam in Brynn’s eyes as she tried to express her appreciation. Tracy competently picked up Bossy’s cage along with Brynn’s suitcase, leaving her to handle the leashed animals. Within a few minutes, they’d left the resort behind.
Brynn craned her head backward once, looking longingly at the place that had become her home. Finally she stared forward, unable to believe how much it hurt, knowing that Matt would never be hers; and remembering the look on his face when he’d learned the truth—a look she’d never forget.
Tracy glanced over at her, her young face wreathed in concern. “Sometimes things seem worse than they are.”
Brynn continued to stare unseeingly into the road, silent tears still creasing her cheeks. “And sometimes, things are worse than they seem.”
Chapter Twenty
Brynn erased the last frame of the comic strip, stared at the paper, then sighed as her gaze drifted again to the window. She missed having a mountain right outside. The Wasatch Range had seemed so close before. Now they were unbearably distant. A few birds braved the cold, flitting to the bare branches of the trees. They, too, looked lonely, out of place.
She’d replaced her drafting table, reconstructed her working files and turned blindly to her work. Gradually, Stephanie had reclaimed herself. Only now, she’d gained a slightly bitter edge—one Brynn disguised with biting humor. Her agent and editor were thrilled. The strip had been picked up by another syndicate and a huge marketing deal for everything from Stephanie pencils to nightshirts was in the works. It simply made Brynn sadder.
There was no thrill in her success; no satisfaction, since she had no one to share it with. Before living with the MacKenzies, she’d escaped to her fantasies, shared her hopes and dreams with imaginary heroes. Now there was no escape. And there were certainly no heroes.
To add to her melancholy, the city rang with Christmas preparations. The streets were hung with lighted garlands, and her neighbors’ homes overflowed with holiday cheer and decorations. Their gaiety was a constant reminder that this would be her loneliest Christmas yet. She knew there was
no point in contacting her mother. Charlene Magee had made it clear that she had no interest in a family celebration. The best Brynn could hope for was a postcard from Hawaii or whatever island destination her mother had chosen.
Brynn had hung the stockings she’d collected in previous years for her pets, but she couldn’t bring herself to buy a tree. While she detested self-pity, she also knew there was nothing more depressing than a tree without a single present beneath it. And though a fire now burned steadily in the fireplace, the stockings seemed like a neglected reminder of what she was missing.
Spending most of her time wondering what the MacKenzies thought of her—if any of them had forgiven her yet—Brynn could only hope they had salvaged Gregory’s homecoming. A picture of each shocked face was seared into her memory, but it was the hurt on Matt’s face that haunted nearly every moment.
What had she been thinking, keeping the truth from him? In her mind, she’d played out a thousand alternatives to her behavior, but her daydreams couldn’t change what had happened. Nothing could.
Her doorbell rang suddenly, startling her and sending Lancelot into a frenzy of barking. As the dog dashed to the window to look outside, she opened the door.
Matt filled the doorway, every familiar line of him.
Brynn couldn’t speak. All the words she’d ached to say suddenly locked in her throat.
But Matt spoke. “May I come in?”
Dumbly she stared at him, nearly tripping in her haste to move backward. “Of...of course.”
He stepped inside, this time seeming to fill the room. Although the old apartment was roomy—certainly adequate for her—now it seemed close. Faintly she wondered how one person could make such a difference.
When he looked around as though taking inventory, it struck her that he’d never seen her apartment before. She grasped at the ordinary. “Would you like something to drink? Hot tea or—”
“I’m not thirsty.”
Brynn couldn’t read anything in his words or voice. Like someone parched in a desert, she drank in the sight of him. Impossibly, he looked even better than she’d remembered.
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