Abby's fingers curled into the lapel of his tuxedo jacket. "How long are we supposed to wait?"
"Until the detective comes to get us." The quiet rumbling from the ballroom had begun to escalate. Ethan lifted her chin. "Have I told you lately that you're the bravest woman I know?"
She gave him a half laugh for his troubles. "No, I'm not. I'm shaking like a leaf."
The week had been hard on her. The interminable waiting had exacted a high price on her peace of mind. He'd done what he could to help her through it, but with the moment finally at hand, he knew she was feeling the pressure. The voices were beginning to sound agitated. Abby glanced at the dividing wall with a frown. "What do you think is happening in there?"
The question was followed by a burst of applause. Ethan pressed a kiss to Abby's temple. "Baldovino's sponsors are congratulating themselves."
"Rachel seemed to be doing well," Abby said. "I hope whatever happens with David doesn't cause too much of a disturbance."
As if on cue, a shrieking scream emanated from the ballroom. Abby gave Ethan a startled look, then took off at a run.
The scene in the Festival Hall confirmed her worst fears. David had obviously used the distraction of the speeches to approach Harrison with his demands. Somehow the argument had escalated out of control, and soon the assembled crowd had grown more interested in watching the spectacle than in listening to the collected wisdom of Baldovino's corporate sponsors.
Abby had no idea when things had turned physical, but David's glasses lay smashed on the floor and Harrison's face was red with fury. Detective Nick Krestyanov was standing to one side with his hand inside his tuxedo jacket where his firearm was holstered. He was waiting, Abby knew, for a confession. Two thousand witnesses would make a fairly ironclad case.
"Damn you, Montgomery," David was saying. "Why the hell couldn't you just do what I told you to? Everything would have been fine."
Harrison scowled at him. "You spineless bastard."
David's face was as flushed with rage as Harrison's. The two were standing near one of the enormous display units featuring cakes and pastries and themed decor. David looked around and seized a gold sword—a la Excalibur—from its resting place inside a large cake. The crowd gasped. David brandished the icing-smeared sword with theatrical finesse. "All you had to do," he said with low menace, "is what I told you to do. I told you where to find the money. I told you how to get it."
Deirdre had worked her way through the crowd and now stood next to Harrison. "David," she said chidingly, "be a nice boy and put that down."
The words seemed to enrage him. "Shut up," he barked. "Just shut up."
Harrison mopped his sweating brow with his handkerchief. "Don't talk to her like that."
David's laugh was bitter. "Why the hell not? What have I got to lose now?"
"You should have thought of that when you tried to blackmail me," Harrison snapped.
David stalked forward with the sword. "It would have worked if you hadn't been so damned stubborn." He slashed the air and bits of frosting plopped onto the carpet. "You sold the company and bankrupted yourself just to avoid paying for your mistake."
Abby saw Detective Krestyanov step forward. "Your uncle made plenty of money off my mistake," Harrison said coldly.
David swore loudly. "You arrogant asshole!" He charged forward with the sword. Deirdre extended her foot and tripped him. He stumbled, then fell heavily into the display table, crashing into a giant pie. The crowd shrieked as the pie crust gave way beneath his weight and the entire, concoction collapsed onto the floor. From inside the cavernous display unit, birdcages tumbled open, releasing a swarm of blackbirds into the crowded ballroom.
Four and twenty, Abby guessed, of the large birds shrieked and fluttered above the crowd, adding to the cacophony of noise. Krestyanov had lunged forward and pushed David facedown on the floor. He was cuffing him and quietly reading him his rights amid the chaos.
Abby watched the scene unfold with a growing sense of horror. One of the birds had evidently developed a fixation for Baldovino's hair and was tangled in the jet-black coiffure. Baldovino was yelling orders into the microphone while two young men dressed like knights tried to free the hapless bird from his hair.
The detective hauled a handcuffed David to his feet and shoved him in Abby's direction. Deirdre, she noted, was observing the entire display with thinly disguised glee. Ethan draped his arm over Abby's shoulders. "Do you think," he whispered in her ear, "that Baldovino is going to announce the winners soon?"
She gave him a chilling look. The more Baldovino resisted the bird, the more hopelessly tangled it got. To add to the confusion, event security was trying, somewhat vainly, to restore order and calm to the hall. They were aided and abetted by the costumed knights, most of whom, Abby suspected, moonlighted as exotic dancers.
"Oh, God," she groaned. "When he finds out we're responsible for this, Rachel will never be able to show her face again."
Ethan's fingers curled around her elbow. "There's always San Francisco."
Before she could respond to that, Nick Krestyanov pushed a sputtering David in front of them. David glared at Abby. "All you had to do was mind your own business," he told her angrily. "Everything would have been fine."
She felt fury rise in her and turned the hill force of it on him. "You tried to terrorize me, David. You're a weak, pathetic little man who took advantage of your uncle and everyone else around you."
Without giving him time to respond, the detective shoved him hard. "Go," he barked. "I'm sick of looking at you." His partner eased forward and guided David out the door. Krestyanov looked at Abby. "I'll be in touch, Ms. Lee. If you want us to pursue—"
She shook her head. "No, it's over." She slid her hand into Ethan's. The stakes of pursuing the truth any further were higher than she wanted to pay. "I'm really ready for it to be over."
He hesitated, then said, "I'll see you soon." He nodded in the direction of the booths. "Tell your sister I'll taste that meal she promised when the ambience is a little calmer."
Abby watched him leave amid a swarm of guests who streamed through the exit as the birds swooped down and began to settle on the buffet table.
Ethan squeezed her hands. "I'll handle the birds," he told her. "You take Baldovino."
Baldovino yelled again. Abby groaned and started forward. "I don't care what you have to do to them," she told Ethan. "Just get rid of the damned things so we can grab Rachel and scram out of here." Finally, Baldovino's knights freed the bird from his hair. It joined its companions near the ice sculpture. As the birds picked at and pranced around the hors d'oeuvres, Abby made her way determinedly toward Monsieur Billaud's booth. She saw Rachel deep in conversation with Deirdre. On the stage, Baldovino had collapsed dramatically onto a chair and sat fanning himself in a near swoon. Harrison bounded onto the platform and seized the mike.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please…" His voice had little effect on the tumult in the room. "Please, if you'll just remain calm."
Behind him, Baldovino shrieked, "Calm? My God, it's worse than an Alfred Hitchcock movie."
Harrison gave him a quelling glance. "Pio, please. We have everything under control."
Abby eased around the debris from the fallen pie and continued weaving through the crowd toward her sister.
Ethan, she noted, was rounding up the security staff and issuing instructions while making vague gestures in the direction of the buffet table.
Several reporters had shoved their way toward the front of the stage and were snapping pictures of Baldovino and Harrison.
"Montgomery," one of the reporters yelled. "Do you have a comment on this?"
"Who was that man?" another asked.
Harrison held out his hand to quiet the storm. "Please, please. I'm sorry this had to happen. If you saw the statement I issued this afternoon, you know that I have decided to sell MDS and all its subsidiaries as a result of the blackmail threat I've been under for the past several months."
"Was that the blackmailer?"
"Yes," Harrison confirmed.
The crowd noise escalated. Abby was a few feet from where Rachel and Deirdre were still engaged in an intense discussion. She was relieved to see that her sister didn't look overly distressed by what had happened here.
The microphone squealed as Harrison started to speak over the din in the ballroom. "Ladies and gentlemen, please. I think we have everything under control. I'll be happy to answer any questions you may have, but I don't want us to forget why we're here tonight. Pio Baldovino works hard all year to bring this competition to our city and provide opportunities for aspiring culinary artists across the country. We came here to support and encourage them—" He glanced at the buffet table, where Ethan and the security staff had managed to net the bulk of the birds. "Although you'll probably want to avoid the buffet." He won a beleaguered laugh for that.
He glanced at Baldovino, who still sat in a boneless heap on the chair. "Pio, I have to hand it to you. I attend fifteen to twenty of these benefits a year. I've never been to a more memorable one." This was met with more laughter and scattered applause. Harrison continued. "I regret that my personal situation put a pall on the festivities, but I think you all should know what Pio told me earlier. Thanks to your support, this event has raised over half a million dollars for Chicago's public schools and enrichment programs." This time the applause was louder and sustained. "So I'd like to thank everyone for coming, for your support of Pio's work, and I encourage you to come again next year." He chuckled. "I'm sure you'll want to tell your friends this is an event not to be missed."
The crowd roared its appreciation. Harrison switched off the mike. He caught Abby's eye and gave her a sad smile. She blew him a kiss, then made her way toward Rachel.
Rachel and Deirdre were laughing. "God," Rachel said as Abby reached them, "can you believe this?"
Deirdre patted Rachel's arm. "It'll be the talk of Chicago for years."
Abby regarded her sister closely. "I'm really sorry, Rach. I know how much this meant to you."
Deirdre shook her head and pointed to where Ethan finally had the birds back in their cages and on the way out of the ballroom. "Things aren't nearly as bad as they probably seem, Abby. You'll see."
Another hour passed before the staff had cleared away all the debris. By mutual consent, Baldovino and his board had agreed to wait until the next day to announce the winners. Fortunately, the tasting portion of the competition had concluded before David made his move.
Ethan had insisted that Abby and Rachel leave with him shortly after Harrison's speech had concluded. They'd met Harrison and Deirdre at a small coffee shop near the MDS building. An exhausted Abby sat beside Ethan with a wet linen napkin draped over her forehead. Rachel, he noted, seemed buoyant. The night at Festival Hall hadn't taken the same toll on her that it had on her sister. Deirdre, too, seemed energized, while he sensed an undercurrent of anger in Harrison. It echoed his own. Ethan was beginning to see how much he had in common with his father.
Rachel and Deirdre were rehashing the events with glee. Abby groaned and leaned her head against Ethan's shoulder. "What did I do to deserve this?" she asked him.
"You know what part I liked?" Rachel said, drumming her fingers on the table. "I liked the part where the crow landed on Baldovino's hair."
"It was a blackbird," Abby said with another groan.
Beside her, Ethan's chuckle was warm and rich. "You have to admit, Abby, it was a priceless moment."
"Did you see all those reporters?" Deirdre asked. "The publicity should be spectacular."
"I've never seen so many cameras in my life," Rachel remarked.
"Great," Abby said. "Maybe we'll make the front page of the Tribune tomorrow."
"Can't you see it?" Ethan exclaimed. "A full-page spread of Baldovino with that bird tangled in his hair and the caption, 'Can you find the old crow in this picture?' "
Harrison continued to stare broodingly into his coffee. Rachel erupted into a fit of giggles. Deirdre's shout of laughter sounded slightly more sadistic. "Serves him right. That man is so histrionic."
Harrison regarded his sister stonily. She laughed and patted his arm. "I know, darling. You're thinking I've got no right to comment."
"You seemed to enjoy yourself tonight," he said.
"I did," she agreed. "Immensely. I wouldn't be a Montgomery if I didn't love spectacles."
Abby pulled the napkin off her forehead. "Rach, are you sure you're all right? I didn't want this to ruin the night for you."
Rachel shrugged. "I'm fine. Aunt Deirdre and I had a long talk about it."
Deirdre patted Rachel's hand. "Just remember what we talked about, dear. No one's going to forget your first competition."
Rachel nodded. "And it wasn't like I expected to win or anything. Cripes, there's always next year."
"If Baldovino lets us come next year," Abby muttered.
"He will," Deirdre said confidently, "for the right amount of sponsorship money."
Rachel nodded again, emphatically. "And frankly," she continued, "I really don't think it was all that bad. I mean, everything was basically okay until that stupid David and the birds."
"He's behind bars now," Harrison said moodily.
Ethan linked his hands behind his head. "And he's going to stay there."
"And we have notoriety," Deirdre said. "Nothing is better than having notoriety."
Abby sighed. "Why don't I feel comforted?"
"Oh, come on, Abby," Rachel protested. "It was hilarious."
Abby frowned. "If you say so."
Harrison set his coffee cup down and pinned Ethan with a shrewd look. "So what are you going to do now?" he asked him in an abrupt change of subject that had the impact of a nuclear bomb.
Ethan felt Abby go still beside him. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"You've got no reason to stay in Chicago now. The case is closed. Wilcox is through. MDS is as good as sold. When are you heading back to San Francisco?"
"I haven't decided yet," Ethan replied.
Harrison held his gaze. "I've never tried to give you fatherly advice, and I won't start now. But at least listen to the voice of experience." He shook his head. "You don't always get a second chance. It might seem like too much of a risk right now, but if you don't take it, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
seventeen
Of all the qualities the man had to recommend him, Abby thought—and they were many—what appealed to her most about Ethan Maddux was his incredible passion.
Abby strolled into his San Francisco office and studied him from behind. He was on the phone, staring out the window at his prizewinning view of the San Francisco Bay. It had been a week since she'd seen him. After that night in the coffee shop, he'd stayed in Chicago long enough to ensure that the charges against David Wilcox stuck.
But she'd felt him withdraw. Rachel had come back home, and Ethan had moved back to his hotel room. Day by day, little by little, she'd watched as he'd carefully reconstructed the walls around his heart. She'd spent a long time convincing herself that she couldn't accept him on those terms. She wanted everything, or nothing at all.
Deirdre had been the one to convince her that "nothing at all" was an awfully high price to pay for not being willing to compromise. They had met for lunch yesterday, ostensibly to discuss the final arrangements for the fund-raiser. With smart-bomb precision, Deirdre had pinned Abby to the wall. "You look terrible," she'd told her.
Abby had shrugged. "I haven't been sleeping well."
Deirdre had laughed. "I can imagine. Missing someone in your bed?"
"Deirdre—"
She'd shaken her head. "For God's sake, Abigail, are you going to mope about that man or are you going to fight for him?"
"He made his choice."
"He did not," the older woman had insisted. "He left the choice up to you." She'd leaned across the table and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's a thing men do to a
void taking responsibility. I should know. I've had five husbands."
"And you yourself said that the Montgomerys can't commit to one person."
"I was wrong about the men, evidently," Deirdre admitted. "I had no idea Harrison felt so deeply about Lina. I don't know how I missed that."
"He loved her."
"So much that he never married."
Depressed by the conversation, Abby had picked at her meal. Deirdre hadn't relented. "Ethan is so much like his father."
That had gotten Abby's attention. "He is not."
"Yes, he is, dear. That brooding nature. All that pent-up angst." His aunt's eyes sparkled. "No wonder you think he's so sexy. What woman wouldn't?"
Abby drew a deep breath. "He made absolutely no indication that he's interested in continuing his relationship with me."
"Except that he fled back to San Francisco hoping you'd chase him."
"Don't be ridiculous."
Deirdre's expression turned serious and concerned. "Abby, are you really going to let pride stand in the way of getting what you want?" She paused. "You love him, don't you?"
"Madly," Abby confessed.
"Then fight for him, darling. He's just waiting for an excuse to tell you he can't live without you. Sometimes men need help seeing that."
"I don't know what to do."
Deirdre had reached into her purse and produced a first-class ticket to San Francisco. "Your plane leaves in an hour. You won't have time to pack." She handed Abby an envelope. "Harrison sent you this to cover whatever you need to buy."
There was a thousand dollars in cash in the envelope.
By the time Abby arrived in California, her stomach was tied in knots. It was after seven, and she'd asked her cabdriver to take her to the Maddux Consulting offices, thinking she'd find a hotel nearby and confront Ethan in the morning.
But the light in his office was on. She'd seen him silhouetted against the window. The security guard in the lobby had taken pity on her babbling explanation and admitted her into the elevator. She'd passed Ethan's secretary on the way out. Edna had waved her into his office with a muttered "Thank God you're here," and now she was back where it all began.
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