"Yes."
"Is it what I think it is?” She heard the words, but it sounded as if someone else had spoken.
"It's the kind of diamond that says till death do us part. Which with a cop might be sooner rather than later."
She looked down at the box. “I'm not pregnant."
Rick gave her an angry glare. “If you were, I would have frigging well expected you to tell me."
Georgina felt color flood her cheeks. “Sorry. Yes, I would have.” She dropped her gaze down to do the diamond. “We hardly know each other."
"I know what I need to know. And because of Angelina, there can't be any half measures. She needs to know it's for keeps."
Georgina locked her eyes on the ring. Silence grew like a gulf between them. She could hardly breathe. A storm roared inside her head, and sharp pain stabbed her chest between her ribs.
"Well, do you want it or not?” Rick said, his voice terse.
"I'm going back to London. They're giving me Compliance."
Rick stared at her. “Compliance?"
"A department with dozens of people working in it. At the moment, I'm a technical expert. I don't have any line management responsibility. When I get Compliance, I'll have a big staff. It's a huge promotion."
"I see,” Rick said stiffly. “I guess I can't compete with Compliance."
Georgina snapped the box shut and handed it back to him. “I'm sorry,” she said. Her icy arm should have cracked when she moved, but to her surprise there was no sound of anything breaking.
Rick shrugged his shoulders. He took the box from her hand.
"Sorry,” Georgina said again.
Rick gave an angry shake of his head. “Stop saying that.” He turned to go, but hesitated at the door. “Angelina will be back next Friday. Will you be here? I know she'd like to say goodbye."
"I'll be here for two more weeks."
When Rick was gone, Georgina stood still for an hour. Her mind emptied of any thoughts as she concentrated on making the ice inside her thaw. When she could move again, she went back into the bedroom. She continued to arrange her clothes, without realizing that she was now methodically hanging up everything she'd spent the last two hours taking down and folding away.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Thirteen
For Georgina, the next few days were a curious mixture of life lived at two different speeds. There were spells of frantic activity, when time rushed by at an incredible pace. Punctuating those were brief periods of animated suspension, when everything around her faded away, and time stood still as she fought to suppress the turmoil inside her.
Annabel had handed in her notice at the bank. She had wanted to do it earlier, but had put if off out of loyalty to Georgina. They would both leave on the same day, Georgina to go back to London, Annabel to work full time in her husband's real estate business.
"What about Rick?” Annabel asked when they went out for one final dinner at the Squid's Inn.
The wine in Georgina's glass sloshed as she flinched. “What about him?” The effort of not thinking about Rick in the last few days had exhausted her. She had used all her energy to close her mind against the memories of his calm reassuring presence, the heat of his body against hers during the few nights they had spent together, his steadfast devotion to Angelina, and the unexpected tenderness that had shattered her defenses.
Now her concentration faltered, and a recollection broke through of how he had asked her to marry him, honesty in his eyes and a vulnerable catch in his voice. He had made her heart lurch and her body tremble with longing, but she had managed to gather her feelings back into the safe icy core she carried inside her to protect her from hurt.
Georgina lowered her gaze. She'd felt ravenous when they first arrived, but now, almost two hours later, the plate of Cesar's salad stood untouched before her. The edges of the shredded lettuce were beginning to shrivel up in the heat.
"I thought you might continue seeing him now that he's back,” Annabel said. “He seemed kind of smitten."
"Smitten,” Georgina said dully, closing her mind against the image of Rick that had broken through the mental barriers she'd erected. “That's the sort of word my grandmother would have used."
Annabel ignored the attempt to change the topic. “I thought you two might have something good going."
"It was just a project.” Georgina forced the words out in a casual tone, ignoring the hollow ache insider her. “Something I needed to achieve. Something I had to prove I could do. Now it's time to move on."
"But surely, that part about a project was just a joke. Something to laugh at, to give you a bit of extra courage.” Annabel tilted her head and examined Georgina's face. “Wasn't it?"
Georgina picked up her fork and stabbed a few limp squares of lettuce. “Rick has asked me to marry him."
"Marry him?” Annabel cried. “When? What did you say?"
Georgina kept her focus on her salad. She loaded the fork with more lettuce, and then with an angry flick of her wrist she pierced a crouton which broke into several pieces. “Of course I told him I can't marry him.” Her voice sounded as brittle as the crumbling crouton. “I'm going back to London. I need to relocate for my promotion."
"The bank would let you do your new job out of San Diego,” Annabel pointed out. “Heck, they'd set up a branch for you on the North Pole, if you told them that's where you wanted to be based. They've finally woken up to your talents. You know that."
Georgina shoved the forkful of salad into her mouth. To chew and to swallow required an enormous effort. The food choked her, turning into a hard lump of fear and doubt inside her chest. “I've got to go back to England,” she said curtly. “I have responsibilities. There's the house in Brighton, and my flat in London. I need to get back."
"You never said those were a problem until Rick got you all confused. I thought you were planning to stay in San Diego at least three years."
"It's different now,” Georgina insisted, leaning back in her seat, trying to hide from the probing questions that threatened to weaken her resolve. “Getting Compliance is a huge opportunity. I can't afford to let myself be distracted."
Annabel reached to lay a hand over Georgina's. “Life's not a distraction,” she said softly. “It's what we're here for. To live, and to love, and to take a few risks along the way. I thought you'd finally discovered that."
"Don't.” Georgina snatched her hand away and dropped it in her lap. “I've got to stay focused. This promotion is what I've worked for, ever since I joined the bank."
"All right.” Annabel's words came out on a gentle whisper. “I understand. But think about it. Nothing's final. You can always come back."
"No,” Georgina said. “Once I'm gone, how could I come back?"
"Of course you can come back. It's not as though you're dead."
Georgina looked up, every cell in her body going numb. “No,” she said, her voice hoarse. “When people are dead, they can never come back. Never.” She blinked, forcing herself not to feel, forcing herself to turn into a block of cold and unfeeling ice.
A gentle smile played around Annabel's lovely mouth, and the green eyes grew moist with compassion. “It's not going to be like that. Rick isn't going to die, like your parents did. Don't let irrational fears keep you from reaching out for happiness."
"I don't know.” Georgina shook her head, barely daring to breathe. “I feel as if I don't know anything any more. I feel that to get through each day I need to write down a set of instructions, and then tick off the tasks one by one. Get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, drive to work. If I don't follow a plan, I'll stop functioning altogether."
Annabel's face softened. “I know it's scary,” she said. “Just don't decide anything in a rush, all right?"
"All right,” Georgina said, but she knew she was saying it only to please Annabel. What was there left to decide? Everything that needed deciding had already been decided.
Had it not?
* * * *
On Friday night at the end of her penultimate week, Georgina worked late. She wasn't fooling herself. She knew she was doing it as much to avoid Andy as to clear the backlog in her in-tray.
When she finally got home at half past nine, Andy sat cross-legged on the landing outside Georgina's door. An empty bottle of Diet Coke and a crunched-up candy wrapper littered the carpet, evidence that the girl had been there for some time.
"Georgina,” Andy scampered up to her feet. “I really missed you.” She charged out like a little torpedo, throwing her arms around Georgina's waist, crushing her Yves Saint Laurent suit in the process. A streak of chocolate was left behind when Andy pulled away.
Georgina was too numb to react, either to the hug, or to the stain on her jacket. “Let's go inside,” she said. Hearing her own voice, she thought she sounded like a machine set on too slow speed.
"It was so cool,” Andy enthused. “Gramps is really important. He has a driver whose name is Joe and who wears a uniform and he never lets me sit in the front because that's not the proper protocol and—"
"Andy?” Georgina cast a glance over her shoulder. Her trembling fingers were not getting the key turned in the lock. And it troubled her that the child seemed so totally unaffected by the fact that in exactly one week and one day they'd say goodbye to each other forever.
"Yeah?” Andy stopped her torrent of words and beamed up at Georgina.
"Can you just take it easy for a few minutes? Until I get a cup of tea? I've had a rough day at work, and I'm kind of frazzled."
"Sure.” Andy nodded at her and then darted down to collect a small box from the floor. It was wrapped up in red and gold, with a golden bow on top. “I almost forgot. This is for you.” Andy held the box high with both hands.
"Why don't you bring it in? Take it into the kitchen. I want to go and change first."
Georgina hurried into her bedroom, feeling as though she was escaping, although in reality, however slowly she changed, it would only give her a few minutes of respite.
When she strolled into the kitchen, wearing a sweatshirt and her baggy drawstring pants, Andy bustled around making tea.
"I hope you don't mind,” Andy said. “I know what I'm doing. I filled the kettle first, up to where it says four cups."
"That's good.” Georgina said. Then she collapsed into a chair.
"Open it.” Andy gestured at the box she'd placed on the table. It was obvious to Georgina that the child could barely contain her excitement.
"Later. After I've had a cup of tea.” Georgina slumped over the table, leaning on her elbows.
"No.” Andy pouted at her. “You've got to do it now."
Georgina sighed. “All right.” Too exhausted to even pretend enthusiasm, she tore off the wrapper, and opened the flap on the plain cardboard box.
"It came in a diplomatic pouch from the Embassy in London,” Andy explained. She edged closer and rose on her toes to peek into the box. “One of the secretaries there knew exactly where to get them."
Georgina lifted up the mug with the black and white cows.
"There's a spare, in case you have another accident, and a spare piglet cup too. That way I don't have to wet my pants if I ever break mine."
"Thank you,” Georgina said. She heard the quiver in her voice, and steadied herself before she carried on. “How did you know?"
"Dad asked me to look out for them. He wrote down what it says at the bottom of the cups and emailed it to me. Grandma and I tried all the shops in Washington, but they didn't have any. Gramps arranged for the US embassy in London to buy them and ship them over."
"Thank you.” Georgina realized she'd been cradling the mug against her chest. She forced her arms to move, and handed the mug over to Andy. “Here. You'd better wash it before I drink from it. You must always wash new china and cutlery before useing them for the first time."
"I didn't know that,” Andy said, taking the mug from Georgina. “I thought new things would be clean. Why do they need washing?"
"People may have handled them in the shop, and they may have chemicals on them from the packaging. At least, that's what my grandmother used to say.” Georgina leaned back in her seat, observing Andy.
The girl turned on the tap and squirted a huge arch of dish soap into the washbasin. Georgina knew she ought to have made Andy aware that it was too much for only three mugs, but somehow it didn't seem important right now.
"Did your father tell you that I'm going back to England?” Georgina asked. She felt compelled to take the initiative, rather than wait for Andy to say something.
"Sure he did.” Andy opened and closed the bottom cupboards, until she found a towel hanging inside one of the doors.
It was the hand towel, not the tea towel, but Georgina lacked the energy to point out the error. “And you are okay about it?” she asked.
"I told him he must have misunderstood,” Andy explained, turning around, rubbing the towel vigorously over the first mug with cows.
Georgina stared at the girl in disbelief. Out of all the reactions she'd expected from Andy, a brazen confidence that everything would turn out according to her wishes hadn't even featured on her list of possibilities. “Why do you think it's a misunderstanding?"
"My dad's in love with you,” Andy said flatly. “You can't just leave him and go back to England."
Georgina swallowed, feeling something caught in her throat. She didn't want to be having this conversation, but neither did she want to simply take off the following Saturday, leaving Andy to make the discovery that she was gone. “What makes you think your dad's in love with me?” she asked. “Did he say something to you?"
Andy stared at her in horror. “Are you nuts? My dad would never talk about love and stuff. He'd rather be trampled to death by a herd of angry elephants."
For the first time in a week, Georgina felt the ghost of a smile on her lips. “In which case, how do you know?"
"I don't know.” Andy fidgeted, first scratching her nose, then pulling at her hair. “It's the way he talks about you. Like when he talks to me.” She frowned at Georgina. “Does he call you things? Like when he calls me ‘pumpkin’ and stuff.
Georgina tried to shrug it off. “It's no big deal. He calls me sweetheart. Or sometimes darling. It's just his way. It doesn't mean a thing."
"Don't you realize,” Andy said eagerly. “It's not just his way. He calls me ‘baby’ or ‘honey’ or ‘pumpkin'. You said he calls you ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling'. See? He never mixes them up. They mean something to him, but different things."
Georgina bit her lip. She realized the child was right.
"I thought you were worried about me.” Andy stepped closer. “All that stuff about kids being monsters to their step-moms.” She gazed imploringly at Georgina. “I wouldn't be a monster to you.” Her face crumpled and tears begun to stream down her cheeks. “Now that my mom's dead, I thought you'd be my new mom. All I need is you to marry my dad."
Georgina shifted uncomfortably. “What did he tell you?"
Andy shook her head, wiping the wet skin with a clumsy fist. “I found the ring when I was tidying up in his bedroom. First I thought, is this cool or what, Georgina's going to be my new mom. He had to tell me then. He said that he'd already asked you, and you'd said no."
Georgina heaved her body from the chair and trundled around the table. She draped her arms over Andy's shoulders and pulled the girl close. “I must go back to England. It's not that I don't want to be with you. It's that I have a completely different life over there. I have to get back to that life. You can come and visit any time. I have a flat in London, and a big house near the sea, where I grew up with my grandmother. That's in Brighton, on the south coast. You can come and stay with me any time you like."
"It's not the same,” Andy sobbed. “I wanted you to be my mom."
"I can't do that.” Georgina stroked the long dark hair. Tears stung like needles in her eyes. It had to be because she hadn't washed off her mascara. S
he kept blinking, which only made it worse.
"I hate you,” Andy said, her voice thick with anguish. “You make my dad fall in love with you and you make me like you, and then you just go away.” She pulled back and scowled up at Georgina. Her arms still clutched Georgina's waist, and the grip had changed into something desperate.
"You don't mean that,” Georgina said gently.
"Yes, I do,” Andy shouted through her tears. “I hate you.” Then she realized that she still clung to Georgina. With an angry shove she let go. She spun around and raced through the hall and out of the apartment.
Georgina stood still. Then she turned and took out a teabag and dropped it into the piglet mug that hadn't been washed yet. She poured hot water over the teabag, not realizing that the cup was overflowing, until the puddle trickled down to the floor and scalded her bare toes.
One week and one day. That's how long she had to make Andy understand and forgive her, so they could part as friends.
* * * *
The weekend became a weekend of lists for Georgina. She had lived by lists all her life. First there had been the neatly printed reminders Grandma Ethel had hung around the big house in Brighton, trying to bring order into a life disrupted by a grieving and willful child.
'Switch off lights when leaving room.’ ‘Check tap is turned off.’ ‘Put milk back in refrigerator.'
Georgina wondered what Grandma Ethel would have done, if she hadn't been a bright child who learned to read at four. Perhaps there would have been pictures, the kind you get with flat-packed IKEA furniture in lieu of written assembly instructions.
When Georgina got older, she compiled lists of her own. Schoolwork to do-TV programs to watch-books to read-clothes to wear-food to eat. Eventually the obsessive nature of the behavior dawned upon her. She learned not to write things down, but to keep the lists inside her head instead.
Then, when she started working at Pacific Bank, right after graduating from Oxford, the world became a heavenly place where Georgina not only lived by lists, but also studied lists made out of numbers. In them, she found patterns that others couldn't see, until she pointed them out.
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