by Sylvia Nobel
“Okaaaay. But, why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
“I tried.”
That shut me up for a minute. Damn. That must have been the number on my caller ID I hadn’t recognized, and I didn’t check the messages. Eying him suspiciously, I pressed, “And the second reason you’re here?”
He hesitated, his intense gaze boring into mine. “To see you.”
Immediately on guard, I stiffened. “Why?”
“To find out what it’ll take to get you to forgive me.”
My emotions seesawed wildly as snippets of our white-hot love affair danced in my head, only to be tempered by the crushing humiliation caused by his infidelity. “Forgive you? After what you did to me? Why should I?” Unable to suppress the sarcasm in my tone, I tacked on, “And how is the lovely Elise these days?”
Appearing chastened, he ruffled his pale blonde hair. “If it makes you feel better, we’re not seeing each other anymore.”
“What a pity.”
“Look, I don’t blame you one bit for being pissed at me. I’ll be the first to admit that I acted like a complete, and I mean complete, shitheel—no assembly or parts required.”
“You got my vote on that.”
His eyes softened into that irresistible, little boy look that I’d known so well. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to try to make it up to you.”
“I don’t believe this.”
His expression became truly angelic. “I mean it. Losing you was the stupidest mistake of my life. I’m sorry as hell that I hurt you.”
Unable to muster a reply, I just stood there blinking at him in amazement.
Again, he flashed his award-winning smile, the one that used to make me melt. “My mother sends her best wishes.”
I nodded in silence.
“You did know she had hip replacement surgery last week, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t. Is she all right?” I wondered if that was why my mother had been trying to reach me.
“She’s doing okay.” He jammed his hands into his jacket pocket. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Absolutely not! In fact, you have to leave. Now. Go!”
He looked crushed. “Oh, come on, Kendall. I’ve just come three thousand miles to see you. I’ve been driving in circles for over an hour in this godforsaken empty desert hunting for your place…” he paused, adding dryly, “No surprise it’s called Lost Canyon Road.”
“Grant—”
“Have a heart. I’m starving, I’m tired…and it’s pretty nippy out here.” With naughty observation he arched one perfect blonde brow. “Don’t tell me you’re not freezing your buns off.”
Actually, the scalding embarrassment was keeping me toasty, but when headlights suddenly slashed the darkness, panic speared my stomach. Oh, shit! Tally! What was he going to think of me standing here dressed like a French hooker talking to my old boyfriend? For interminable seconds I stood motionless, squinting into the glare of lights before he cut the engine, stepped out, slammed the door and marched towards us. It was difficult to envision a more awkward scenario.
“Hey,” I began, smiling sheepishly as he reached the front step, “guess who just showed up out of the blue?”
The moon, now high overhead, was bright enough to easily see Tally’s expression of incredulity. Critically, he scrutinized my mode of dress before turning toward Grant. “I have no idea.”
“Grant Jamerson,” he said breezily with a sunny smile, extending his hand. “Investigative reporter for the Philadelphia Inquirer.”
Tally fired me a startled look as his name registered. “Bradley Talverson,” he replied, his voice devoid of warmth.
Blue eyes appraised brown ones as the two men shook hands warily. It was one of those supremely embarrassing moments where I would have been elated if the ground had opened and swallowed me. “Wait thirty seconds and then you can both come inside,” I announced, slamming the door.
As fast as I could manage in the high heels on the tile floor, I sprinted across the candle-lit living room to the safe haven of my bedroom. Standing behind the closed door, I expelled a long breath. Suddenly shivering all over, I stripped off the flimsy garments while attempting to collect my wits. Replaying the inconceivable scene over and over in my mind brought tears of humiliation to my eyes. How the hell was I going to handle this thorny predicament?
Curled in her usual spot on my pillow, Marmalade woke up, yawned and stared at me curiously. I’d begun to learn that cats are amazingly intuitive creatures and can sense a change of mood in their humans. “I am in deep guano, my little friend,” I murmured to her as I pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. What had possessed Grant, whom I hadn’t heard a word from in eleven months, to pull such a stunt? After our heart-wrenching breakup and my hasty exit from Philadelphia last spring, I had not expected to see or hear from him again. It was curious timing for him to show up at my doorstep now…but then maybe not. I suspected there was a connection between his sudden appearance and the note I’d written to his mother last week. Had the two of them joined forces with my mother to try and thwart my marriage plans? The timing was more than a little suspicious.
My hand on the doorknob, I inhaled a few deep breaths, hoping to restore a modicum of composure. The thought of having to go out and face both men sent my stomach into an uproar. More than anything I wished I could just stay in my bedroom and never come out again. Unfortunately, the reality was that I had no choice but to deal with the situation. Dragging my feet, I returned to the living room to find that Tally had turned off the music, extinguished the candles and switched on every light—a sure sign our romantic rendezvous was dead in the water. Grant stood with his back to the fireplace. Neither man looked happy. Still shaken by the unexpected events, I wasn’t sure how to proceed. But we were all mature, civilized adults, right? I should be able to diffuse the situation. “So? Can I get either of you anything to drink?”
Simultaneously, Grant answered yes and Tally no. They exchanged an emotionally charged glance and I cringed inwardly at my poor attempt at diffusing.
“Actually, if it wouldn’t be too inconvenient,” Grant said to me, maintaining a matter-of-fact tone, “I was sort of hoping maybe I could stay here tonight.”
“What makes you think that would be even a remote possibility?” Tally growled, his face as obstinate as an angry bulldog.
Grant raised a defensive hand. “No harm intended. It’s not my fault you guys have only three motels in your little burg and it just so happens they’re all full. Something about a big art and craft show starting tomorrow,” he concluded with a small shrug. “Anyway, there won’t be a room available until Monday afternoon.”
“Just how long are you planning to stay?” Tally inquired, his jaw muscles hardening.
“I don’t know. A couple of days, possibly a week.” I could tell he was baiting Tally, who slid me a ‘so what’s the deal?’ look. We both knew Grant was telling the truth about the shortage of motels in town and it seemed ungracious to insist that he leave now.
“We have plans this evening,” Tally informed him with a tone of finality, making no attempt to hide his annoyance. I signaled him with my eyes to cool it. After all, this was a man who’d held a very important part in my life at one time and there was no cause to be boorish.
Looking victimized, Grant directed his gaze at me. “I was thinking maybe I could crash on your couch, but if it’s going to create a huge problem I’ll head back to Phoenix and see if I can find a place to stay.”
A decisive nod from Tally. “Good plan.”
Arizona was heavily into the snowbird season and he’d be downright lucky if he could find a room at this late hour, considering the fact that there was a huge convention, a car show and a national marathon in town. Mammoth fireworks would erupt if Tally knew the second reason Grant was here. Nevertheless, it seemed petty to send him packing at this hour. “That won’t be necessary.” Shrinking beneath Tally’s flinty glare I said, “I’ll be
glad to make you a sandwich and you can stay here tonight, but you’ll have to make other arrangements for tomorrow.” I stepped beside Tally and took his hand. “We both have to get up early so—”
Grant’s grateful smile was nothing short of endearing. “Thanks. I’ll be on my way first thing in the morning.” He rubbed his palms together. “Okay then, I’ll get my bag.”
The front door had no sooner clicked shut than Tally took my elbow and swiftly steered me into the kitchen. Exasperation ruled his face. “Well, you were right. This isn’t a night I’ll soon forget.” I wouldn’t either. “What’s the big idea inviting him to stay?”
“Take it easy. It’s just for one night. You’re going to be here too—”
“You better believe it.”
“Okay then, so what’s the big deal?”
“I don’t want him here.”
I frowned at him. “What would you suggest? Should I ask him to sleep outside in his car?”
“I don’t have a problem with that.”
“Oh, come on, Tally, don’t be silly. It’s freezing.”
Eyes narrowed to slits, he griped, “You think I don’t know what he’s up to?”
He was more intuitive than I’d given him credit for. I turned away to pull lunchmeat and bread from the refrigerator. “I can’t control what’s in his head, but there’s nothing for you to worry about on my account. I’m so over him.”
“Really? Well, you’d never know it judging by that little show you put on, strutting around in that skimpy outfit.”
I edged him the evil eye and slapped sliced turkey onto the bread. Without much conscious thought, I added mayonnaise, lettuce and sweet relish, just the way Grant always liked it. And that stopped me cold. The feel of Tally’s eyes drilling into my back alerted me to the fact that he’d also noticed the personal touch. I turned to him feeling slightly defensive. “That little show, as you put it, was for your benefit and you know it. Who else would I be expecting at this time of night?”
He considered my explanation for a couple of seconds before adding, “I don’t buy the story that he’s merely here to cover Riley’s funeral.”
Oh brother. If Ginger was here, she’d pronounce this a fine kettle of fish. My gut instincts told me I should level with him right now regarding Grant’s dubious intentions and my decision to move forward with Ruth’s request. But I knew him well enough to know the outcome of such a confession and I sure didn’t want to start a rip-roaring argument in front of Grant. “Us sniping at each other won’t solve anything. The situation is what it is.” I sliced the sandwich with force and plopped it onto a plate before swinging back to face him again. “The last thing on my mind tonight was having a fight with you so let’s just call a truce. The fact is you’re the one I love, you’re the one I’m going to marry and you’re the one who’ll be spending the night with me. Grant will be out of here in the morning.” I walked over to him and planted a kiss on his unresponsive lips. “So, quit your bitchin’.”
He started to respond, but clamped his mouth shut when the front door opened. I don’t know why, but the sound of Grant’s familiar whistle made my insides tense. Warning bells clanged in my ears as my heart remembered how deeply I’d once cared for him. In my wildest dreams I never expected to be caught in the middle of such a conundrum.
Grant appeared in the doorway announcing in a genial voice, “Can I join the party?”
When we both responded in stony silence the smile fell off his face. I pulled a soda from the refrigerator and set it plus the sandwich on the table. I pointed to the hallway. “The bathroom is the first door on the left. I’ll get some bedding.” I wished now I’d gotten around to cleaning out the spare bedroom, which was piled high with boxes I’d never unpacked and the bed was buried under a stack of stuff I’d planned to get around to sorting through some day—and that some day was almost upon me since I had out-of-town company coming soon.
I had to hand it to Grant. He was doing a superb job of ignoring Tally’s ‘I’d like to punch your lights out’ expression. “You guys are really helping me out of a jam,” he said, suddenly solemn, “and um…I’m sorry if I spoiled your evening.” He was making a heroic effort to be cordial, but when Tally made no effort to reply, I decided it would be best to separate them as soon as possible.
“We’re going to hit the hay now.” I didn’t miss his pointed expression as his eyes strayed to my engagement ring. Even though I’d convinced myself that my feelings for him were nonexistent, as Tally and I headed towards my bedroom, I couldn’t help but feel a measure of empathy for him. It was also disconcerting to admit that the characteristics that had drawn me to Grant in the first place—his charming personality, Nordic good looks, sunny disposition, quirky sense of humor and zest for adventure—were still strangely appealing.
8
Sleep was elusive that night. It was quite some time before Tally finally drifted off to sleep, and even as I cuddled close, listening to his even breathing, I couldn’t shut off my brain as memories of my year-long romance with Grant paraded endlessly through my mind. Sensing my distress, Marmalade decided to park herself on my chest. Her steady rattling purr, reminiscent of my grandmother’s old sewing machine, combined with the rhythmic kneading of her razor sharp claws contributed to my restiveness. After hours of trying to lie still so I wouldn’t wake Tally or the cat, I finally eased Marmalade onto my pillow, rose and crossed the room to stand near the window. The extreme blackness of the clear winter sky accentuated the radiance of the stars. Indeed, the Big Dipper looked close enough to reach up and touch as it hung winking above the dark outlines of those magnificent piles of rock and dirt that make up Arizona’s mountain ranges. There appeared to be no hint of the storm that had been predicted, but the hazy corona ringing the moon as it edged towards the western horizon heralded a weather change. The elation I’d felt earlier in the evening diminished even further as I continued to second-guess myself. What was I thinking? Even if I were successful in discovering some piece of evidence that would help track down Riley Gibbons’s murderer would it really change how Ruth felt about me? Unlikely. No matter what I did would she continue to be a source of friction between Tally and me? Very likely. That grim realization had me looking back with fondness on my fun-filled involvement with Grant. None of the tensions that punctuated my relationship with Tally had existed between us and on top of that I’d truly adored his mother. I wished the evening could be a do-over so I could back out of my agreement with Ruth. But envisioning that confrontation seemed far worse than sucking it up and confessing to Tally. Backed into a corner of my own making and super annoyed with life in general, I returned to bed and slept fitfully for a couple of hours.
I awoke in the pre-dawn hours head throbbing, stomach icy and feeling worse than if I’d not slept at all. I slipped from the bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. A couple of aspirin stilled the headache and a hot shower revived me somewhat. As I pulled on slacks and an emerald green turtleneck, I heard Marmalade’s plaintive mewing outside the door. I cracked it open and lifted her into my arms after she squirted inside. “Hey, baby love,” I whispered, nuzzling her face against mine, “want some breakfast? I need coffee. Gallons of it.”
The digital clock glowed six-thirty as I crept past Grant and slid the pocket door to the kitchen shut behind me. After feeding Marmalade I brewed coffee, poured a cup and then opened the window over the sink, welcoming the sweet smell of a newly minted day and the refreshing sensation of cold air caressing my face. The faint halo of aqua-gray glowing above Castle Rock blotted out the stars as dawn slowly siphoned the darkness from the sky. It’s funny how daylight helps diminish the demons of the night. Within a half an hour I had fried up a pan of bacon and was scrambling eggs when I heard the door slide open behind me. I turned and smiled a greeting as Tally walked in, searching his eyes for signs that his black mood had improved. “Everything okay?”
Cognizant of the underlying meaning of my words, his pensive gaze was steady. “So fa
r.”
“Want some breakfast?”
His glance strayed to the wall clock as he pulled out a chair. “Sure, but I don’t have much time and I’m not leaving until he’s out of here,” he announced, thumbing over his shoulder, “so you’d better wake his ass up.”
Okaaaaay. He was obviously still in a snit. On the one hand his protective stance was deeply flattering but another part of me wanted to fire back, “Don’t tell me what to do!” Instead, I bit my lip and set his breakfast in front of him. He’d get no more ammunition from me. “What time do you think you’ll be finished with your buyers today?”
“Don’t know for sure. I’ll be tied up most of the day and probably a good portion of tomorrow.”
“Are we still on for dinner tonight?”
He shrugged. “Depends. I’ll have to call you later.”
Yeah, he was still pouting big time. “Okay, well, I’ll have my cell phone on. Let’s plan for six o’clock at Angelina’s.” He nodded and I added quickly, “I hope you can make it because I need to talk with you about something.”
“What?” The angst in his tone revealed his unease.
Quick to reassure him, I soothed, “Relax. It pertains to a couple of things your mother said to me last night.”
“Just tell me now.”
I hesitated. “It’s too long and too complicated. I’d rather wait until…we won’t be interrupted.”
Before he could question me further I walked into the living room and roused Grant, who complained loudly about having to get up at such an ungodly hour. Tally extended the coldest of shoulders when he finally entered the kitchen. But true to his curious nature, Grant refused to be ignored and launched into a series of questions about Arizona—the weather, population growth, real estate and job opportunities—while he dug into his bacon and eggs. It didn’t take long for the conversation to come around to Riley Gibbons. “Got any ideas on who might have taken the old guy out in such a dramatic fashion?” he inquired, looking straight at me while piling jelly onto his toast. “You must be all over this story.”