“Plus your dad could be pretty persuasive.”
“That, too. That’s where the fear came in. I was more afraid of his disapproval than of losing what I wanted most. I mean, what if I struck out on my own and failed? Sound familiar?
“On my first case, I was part of a team that defended this sleazebag rich kid accused of armed robbery. He didn’t need the money, he just got a thrill out of holding people up. I got him off on a technicality. Me, the newest and youngest member of the team.
“He went right back to robbery. Only the next time, he killed a convenience store clerk.
“His father was a big client, and when they put me on the team to defend him again, I refused. My father said that was the way the law worked; I said it wasn’t my way. I quit on the spot and came back to Crescent Cove. My father doesn’t speak to me, but I’m doing what I want.”
“God, how awful for you.”
“Yeah, it was. I still have nightmares about it. But sometimes shit has to happen before you have the courage to do what you really want. I was torn, but in the end, I followed my heart home.”
“You think I should stay?”
“I think you should follow your heart.”
“How can I when it’s torn in two.”
Grace pushed to her feet. “Whatever you decide, remember we all love you, even Bri, who’s just a little pissed right now. She’s lost a lot, she doesn’t want to lose you, too.”
She climbed down the rocks and started across the beach. Margaux watched until she was just a small dark shadow on the setting sun. She wanted to call her back, tell her she’d decided to stay in Crescent Cove. But she couldn’t. She loved them and she knew if she left, things would never be the same between them. But if she stayed she might grow to resent them all.
Margaux’s car was gone when Nick came home that night, but Brianna was just coming out the front door. His first instinct was to pretend he hadn’t seen her and go up the stairs like everything was normal.
But their eyes met and he could tell she had been crying.
So it was over. Margaux was leaving.
Brianna gave a disjointed little shake of her head as she passed him, but she didn’t stop and Nick didn’t call her back.
He stood rooted to the sidewalk as everything in his life blew to pieces. He should never have let down his guard, never allowed himself to . . . whatever it was he had done. How did he go on from here? And how could he explain to Connor when he didn’t even understand it himself.
He loved her. Had always loved her. He’d even be tempted to follow her to New York knowing he would never fit into her world. But he couldn’t. He had responsibilities and that was enough—had to be enough—for him.
Margaux pulled out her suitcase with all the black clothes she shut away. She might need them now. It was late, Nick should have been home by now. Here, she amended, should have been here by now. Everybody else had given their opinion about her life. And he hadn’t even weighed in. Maybe he didn’t care.
She sniffed. Of course he cared. He had to care, though it would be easier if he didn’t. Where the hell was he?
At last she heard the truck come to a stop outside. The door slammed, but he didn’t come inside. When she couldn’t stand it any longer she went to the kitchen and looked out. Nick was leaning up against his truck, his arms crossed.
“What are you doing?” she asked from the doorway.
“Contemplating the meaning of life.”
“Come to any revelations?” She stayed in the doorway. Something about the way he was acting kept her from taking another step. The few yards between them seemed impassable.
“Are you going to come in?”
“Are you going to New York?”
“I have to. I’d be irresponsible not to see what they’re offering.”
“To see if it’s better than what we have to offer?”
“No. It’s not like that. Why is everyone so against me going? I can be back by dinnertime.”
“If . . .”
“If what?”
“If you don’t decide to stay there.”
She wanted to say she wouldn’t, that she would be back, but she couldn’t. “I have to make a living.”
“And you can’t here?”
“Nick.”
He pushed away from the truck and came toward her.
She waited. She wanted his touch, his kiss. She wanted him to understand.
“New York isn’t so far. I can commute. The city during the week and weekends here.”
“Until you get busy with a show, or you’re sent to Paris or Rome or any of those other places.”
“You and Connor could come to New York.”
“Margaux.” He took her in his arms, lifted her nearly off her feet, and kissed her. Long, hard, and she gave in to him. “Isn’t this enough to keep you?”
“Nick,” she pleaded.
He released her. “I guess not. Go inside. Don’t forget to lock your door.” His voice was bleak, he was leaving her before she could leave him. But she didn’t want to leave him.
“Nick. You’re not being reasonable.”
He opened the door, waited until she finally stepped inside, then he closed the screen and held it closed.
Just like he’d done the day Louis had come to threaten her. It was the first time they’d made love.
Only this time she knew he wouldn’t be coming inside.
“Why are you doing this? You won’t even consider giving us a chance. You control your mother and you control Connor, but you can’t control me. So you’re cutting me off. Don’t you realize how selfish you’re being?”
He stared at her. “Me?” he said quietly, his anger vibrating his words. “You can come and go at will and I’m selfish because I can’t?”
“No, but—”
“You think I’ll leave my mother and Connor to fend for themselves, or uproot Connor and follow you to New York? What happens to us when you get too busy for us, or when you get tired of us? Of me?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Can you promise that?”
“How can anybody promise?”
“I didn’t think so.”
“I should have known,” she said, so heartsick she could barely form the words. “It’s your way or the highway. I was right about you all along.”
Goodbye, Margaux.” He turned and walked back to his truck, his steps measured, in control. His way or the highway.
“I have to say goodbye to Connor.”
“No.”
“I have to. He won’t understand.”
He turned on her. “You should have thought about that earlier.”
“Nick, please.”
“Tomorrow after lunch.” He got in the truck and, without a look, drove away, unhurried, but final.
She watched until he rounded the corner. She watched until the faint lights of the truck were swallowed up by the night.
At one o’clock, Margaux pulled up to the curb in front of Adelaide’s Cape.
Adelaide came to the kitchen door. “They’re in the backyard,” she said, and closed the door.
Margaux walked to the back of the house. Nick was throwing a ball to Connor and Margaux lost her nerve. But Connor saw her and dropped his mitt to run to her.
She knelt down, the tears already clogging her throat, and wondered how she was ever going to say goodbye.
“Hi, sweetie.”
He stopped. “Hi.”
“Listen, I came to tell you something.”
His bottom lip began to quiver. “Uncle Nick said you were leaving. He was lying. You’re not leaving.”
“I have to go to New York.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I have to.”
“When are you coming back?”
Nick was walking slowly toward them.
“Well, I might have to work there. Grown-ups have to work.”
Tears rolled down his cheeks. “You can work here.”
“I can’t.” She was so tempted to say maybe she could, but that would be unfair, give him false hope. As much as it hurt, Nick was right, better to make a clean break. Nick had already shut her out and now she had no choice but to do what she said she wanted to do. Go to New York. She pulled him close. Put her arm around his little body and he clung to her. God, was she really about to end things?
“But I’ll come to visit on the weekends. Sometimes.”
She looked at Nick but he was looking at Connor. He’d shut her out completely.
Connor buried his head and clung tighter. “But we didn’t see the Milky Way.”
“You will, honey. You will.” She stood, nearly lost her balance.
Nick pulled Connor away.
Connor looked back at her, his eyes so full of sadness that Margaux’s will faltered. She glanced at Nick but he was closed off; there might never have been anything at all between them.
She didn’t blame him. At that moment she hated herself.
“Bye,” she managed. She turned, no longer able to stop her own tears, and stumbled toward the street.
“No!” screamed Connor. Margaux turned back to him, she couldn’t stop herself. “No!” he screamed again, and ran toward her. Nick snatched him off the ground. Connor flailed, fighting to get down, but Nick held him tight.
“Go. Just go, dammit.”
Margaux tried to back up, but her feet seemed stuck to the ground.
“I’ll be quiet,” Connor wailed. “I’ll be quiet. I promise. Don’t go! Don’t go!”
Nick’s face froze, horrified as he tried to hold the squirming boy.
Everything seemed to stop. Time, feelings, movement. I promise to be quiet.
Good God. She started toward them, at first against her will, then running until she was standing right in front of them.
“Is that what you think? That I’m going because of you? It isn’t that at all.”
But Connor was past listening. He just kept saying, “I’ll be quiet, I’ll be quiet,” until the words were a whisper.
“Connor. Listen. Do you think I’m leaving because you make noise?”
Slowly he nodded.
“That’s not true.”
“Mommy did.”
She looked at Nick but his face was so stricken that it hurt to see.
“No, honey, she didn’t. It was something else, not because of you.”
“Mommy said. And she left.”
Margaux shook her head. How could a mother leave a child thinking that? How could a mother leave her child for any reason?
You are.
“I love your noise. Do you hear me? I love when you talk out loud and make noise. And I want you to practice talking loud for when I call you on the phone. Okay?”
He just looked at her, tears streaming.
“Okay?”
He nodded.
“Go,” Nick mouthed.
“I love you. Both of you.” Margaux turned, started down the driveway. But she stopped at the end and looked back one last time. Connor struggled against Nick’s hold, his arms reaching out toward her, beseeching and totally silent.
Nick sat in his patrol car just off the road behind a copse of trees. He knew she would have to drive this way. It was the closest route to I-95. He dreaded the moment when he would see her Toyota pass by, almost as much as he dreaded that she wouldn’t come by at all. That would mean she’d taken the longer route to make sure she avoided seeing him again.
Connor hadn’t said a word since she’d left him. Nick should hate her for what she’d done to Connor. And he tried to, really tried. Mainly he just ached. A dull pain that was slowly squeezing the breath out of him. He wanted to scream. Drive away. Go back to Denver and forget these last few months.
But he wouldn’t. He didn’t run out on his responsibilities.
Maybe this was his punishment. For joining the army when his family still needed him. For not being here when Ben’s hotheadedness turned to delinquency and he began to get into real trouble. For sending Ben to a war that destroyed him. For allowing himself to dream.
He sat in his cruiser, thinking. And waiting. When Margaux finally passed by, he had to force himself not to churn up the siren and go after her. But for what? For how long? So he watched her zoom away through a shield of fog and disappointment. When she was gone, he turned on the engine, pulled onto the road, and made the U-turn back to town.
Twenty-seven
The smell was the first thing that hit her. She’d gotten used to driving with the windows down, letting the hot air flow through the car, bringing the smell of salt air and living things. Now, fumes ripped at her eyes and throat. She quickly rolled up the windows and turned on the air conditioner. She sat in traffic on her way to midtown until she was afraid the engine would overheat. She parked in a garage that cost her forty dollars.
She’d made appointments with Elsie Rule and four other designers just to compare their offers with what Sam Breed would offer her on Friday. It would give her some leverage in the negotiations. Some clout.
Elsie was her first appointment, and as far as Margaux was concerned her least interesting. She walked up two flights to Elsie’s combined workshop and business office.
Elsie greeted her with a gracious smile, probably forgetting the things she’d said about M Atelier’s last collection in the ladies’ room at Lincoln Center. Never bad-mouth anyone in a bathroom stall, it was the first rule of getting to the top.
Margaux opened her portfolio and spread several of her new designs on Elsie’s drafting table. She walked out ten minutes later quietly fuming. Elsie wasn’t even interested in her new designs. What she wanted was the black Atelier collection.
Margaux thanked her for her interest and flatly refused.
Three more designers, three more offers. They all wanted black.
After the last appointment Margaux walked along Seventh Avenue pondering her situation and calming the fear poking at her consciousness that she was only wanted for her black designs.
“Ridiculous,” she said, startling several pedestrians, who suddenly stepped away, giving her a wide berth. She made it about two blocks before her feet, already chafing inside heels she hadn’t worn all summer, began to throb.
The silk of her shirt clung to her back. She circumvented a pile of black garbage bags and went into the Korean market. She filled a tin from the salad bar, added two bottles of Evian water and an orange, and called it a day.
The apartment where she was staying belonged to a former colleague who was out of town. She didn’t have air-conditioning. Margaux opened all the windows. Took off her clothes and walked around in her underwear, eating salad out of the tin.
She wondered what everyone was doing back in Crescent Cove. If Bri had put up a Closed sign and walked away.
She kept checking her cell to see if Nick had called but of course he hadn’t. She’d pretty much said he couldn’t count on her to be all the things he wanted, maybe needed, her to be. And though his words stung, she recognized the truth in them. He had sacrificed his dreams to take care of his family. The thing that had first attracted Margaux to him had been the thing that had also driven her away.
And she’d called him selfish. She was the selfish one. With a groan, she slumped on the hard futon couch and lifted her hair off her neck, hoping that a breeze would whip in through the half-raised window. But the air stayed still, muggy and heavy, bringing no relief to her heated skin. And no relief to the shame and chagrin that burned at her heart.
She thought about calling Jude to see if she’d seen Nick or Connor. She was worried about Connor. She railed at the timing that had sep
arated them so suddenly with no time for him to get used to the fact that she was leaving.
But maybe it was better this way. One clean break, he would soon forget her; kids were resilient, they bounced back.
Who was she kidding, Connor hadn’t bounced back from his first traumas.
She jumped up off the couch, paced the small living room. Reached for the phone. Put it down. She’d wait a few days until everyone calmed down. Someone was bound to call. Jude at least would want to know that she made it safely.
And what about the boutique and the seamstresses she’d hired. She’d at least have to call someone with instructions. She glanced at her watch. After eleven. Bri would be asleep. She had animals to feed in the morning.
She’d have to wait until tomorrow. She took herself to bed.
It was too hot to sleep and she spent most of the night sitting on the windowsill listening to the sounds of traffic and arguing street people that drifted up from the street.
She finally forced herself to go back to bed. She couldn’t face Sam Breed with bags under her eyes.
She stared at the ceiling, closed her eyes, imagining the rush of the tide and the sea breeze lulling her to sleep. She awoke the next morning between sheets damp with sweat. Without thinking, she reached out. But there was only an unused pillow.
She took a cool shower and dressed in her Driftwood slacks and jacket over a Sunrise camisole. She looked in the mirror, smiled at her image, and chickened out. She changed into something more appropriate for a fashion-industry job interview. Something cutting-edge. Head of the pack. Competitive. Black.
She hit the streets with confidence; by the time she reached the S and B building she was a nervous wreck. She stood in the lobby clutching her portfolio and trying to breathe.
She pressed the elevator button and rode upstairs.
S and B was slick, urban chic, with wide halls and large airy offices decorated in muted silver gray. As she stood in the reception area, waiting to be buzzed into Sam’s office, she felt a thrill go up her spine. She was back.
“Margaux, darling. You look divine.” Sam greeted her with an air kiss and a smile. He was handsome, cultured, and impeccably dressed. The things she’d come to expect in men. Sam had probably never had to rent a tuxedo in his life.
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