He watched her with watery eyes, searching her face as if waiting for her to crumble.
She took a shaky breath and stood, reaching for her brother’s hand.
He wrapped his hand in hers and stood, sniffling. “Will you ever forgive me for leaving, for not stopping it?”
“Yeah. I forgive you.”
And she knew that this time, she meant it.
Fifteen
Cole followed Angie’s laughter through the house and into his den. She gripped the phone to her ear and leaned back in his chair. Her hair was twisted into a bun and held in place with a pencil. Frizzy tufts escaped.
“I appreciate the extra effort, Todd. This was a last minute sponsor; otherwise, I’d have gotten the order to you much sooner. You’re sure you’ll get the banners done it time?”
She looked up and waved Cole into the room.
“Hopefully by this afternoon,” she said into the phone. “Tell Sheila I owe her a few dinners for making you work late the next couple of nights. Okay…take care…bye-bye.”
Angie hung up the phone and smiled down at her hand on the receiver.
“We need the print for the banners ASAP,” she said to Cole, steeling her expression as she glanced up at him. “And preferably they’ll give it to us already formatted. It’ll make Todd’s job easier and we’ll get the banners by Thursday, instead of Friday morning. That’s cutting it way too close as it is. Next year we’ll refuse to accept sponsorships less than thirty days out from the event.”
“Next year?”
“Sure,” she said absently as she noted the time and date of the call on the inside of the file. “I won’t be here, but the arena still will be.”
She glanced at the open laptop and then turned the screen so he could see the balance sheet.
“Indeed it will be,” he smiled. “But I’m not sure those numbers will look as good once you take that magic wand of yours away.”
Angie averted her gaze from his, busying herself with stacking and straightening papers on the desk.
Cole pretended to study the balance sheet.
Her time here was almost up. She and Cole had not spoken of the night of the July Fourth picnic in the three weeks that had passed, and this was the first time they had been alone together since then.
Angie had thrown herself completely into planning the annual pro rodeo event, and she had managed to dig up enough sponsorships to make it a successful one. It should have been an exciting time, but something important had passed between them, and all this unfinished business still hung in the air. He knew she was angry with him for sharing her secrets with her brother, but there was more to it than that.
She could never forget what she had remembered, but she could leave it all behind, just as she did fifteen years earlier. And he wondered if she had even thought about any of it since the night she remembered.
His time was almost up, as well. The cast had been removed and replaced with a brace. He'd started physical therapy. He had no desire to be involved in a pro event after all these weeks away. There’d be famous cowboys, television coverage, and the excitement of a competition that mattered. Everything he had been trying to pretend he didn’t miss.
He looked at Angie and realized she had been watching him. He didn't want her to leave, but he could tell by the look in her eye that she was already half out the door, just biding her time.
“If it’s too hard to get this done by the event, we can always tell them we don’t want their money.”
Angela knitted her brow. “It’s money we need. I just wish I knew who our last minute benefactor was. Have you had any luck reaching them?”
“Yeah.” Cole took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “Sykes and Steeple. An investment firm. I had to work it out of them, but they’ll get us the formatted print by this afternoon. Now why do you suppose they’d send us money from an unnamed account, and then give us flack for wanting to give them some advertising in exchange?”
Angie stared at the folded paper for several seconds before taking it from him and unfolding it. Her eyes widened as she scanned the page.
“Because it’s not about the advertising.” She slammed the paper on the desk. “What a little weasel…”
“I hope you don’t mean me.”
She ignored his comment and picked up the letter again. “This is the firm I work for…Worked,” she corrected. “Past tense. I asked Jeffrey –my boss…ex-boss – to shop the arena for me, try to find an investor. I didn’t expect this.”
“Maybe he just wants to help you out.”
“Jeffrey only helps himself.”
“I take it he’s the boss, slash, boyfriend you told me about?”
She moved her shoulder and evaded his gaze.
“He hurt you, didn’t he? Is that why you quit your job before coming here? Is that why you stayed?”
She steeled her gaze and said nothing.
Cole wondered if Angie had it in her to sleep her way to the top.
“Do you want me to tell him where to stick his money?”
Angela chewed on her lower lip and considered. “No,” she said after a moment, “We could use the money, so we’ll take it. And we’ll give him his advertising. But he’ll get nothing else.”
“Good.” Cole smiled hesitantly. “Because I’d guess he's already taken enough from you.”
****
Angela sat on top of the announcers’ stand after a long day and looked out over the hollow arena. She had meant to keep her distance from this place, from the memories. She was immersed in both. With her legs dangling off the edge of a wood-planked platform, she tried to imagine what it would be like to walk into the corner market in the Village, or to order the usual at her favorite coffee shop. But the images wouldn’t hold. The scent of fresh dirt stole her focus and she thought only of bulls and horses and the excitement that would fill this space when the pros came to town.
It was only a few weeks away. After that, she'd be gone.
Her muscles ached from overwork and her head ached from thinking too much. She jumped off the stand, her sneakered feet clunking on the old wooden bridge that crossed over the main chutes.
Across the arena she saw Jeremy talking with Tina. The girl held onto Jeremy’s arm and laughed at something he had said. It reverberated throughout the arena, the sound like a salve to Angela's ears.
She smiled and walked to the parking lot. Her phone beeped. Angela reached into her purse, smiling as she unlocked her phone. She expected a text from Tina, saying something like “Can you believe it?!?! Isn’t he cute?”
But the text was from Jeffrey. “I’m in town. We need to talk. Where are you?”
****
Angela walked into the café in town. It was late, and there were few patrons. Someone had put on jazz music, which clashed with the bright glare of fluorescent lights. He sat at a small bistro table by the window, one leg crossed over the other. His tie was still knotted tight against his throat, although it was well past ten o’clock at night. He stood, deliberately taking in her appearance, and then motioned to the chair across from him.
“I had to come see for myself.” His gaze followed her into the seat. “It appears you’ve been led astray. Coffee?”
Angela refused to look down at the mug he offered.
“Your favorite,” Jeffrey said, “nonfat vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso.”
“What are you doing here?” She fought the urge to shake out her ponytail and sneak into her purse for some lip gloss.
“I had to come see this for myself.” He laughed. “Maybe my curiosity got the best of me. I just had to come find out why you would choose slumming over a career.”
Angela bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying something she would regret. When she finally spoke her voice was cool and measured. “I’m not slumming. You know why I left the firm. As for my appearance,” she gestured to her messy ponytail and unadorned face, “is what hard
work looks like.”
He wrapped his hands around his coffee mug. He had very pretty hands. It had been one of the first things she had noticed when she had first met Jeffrey, the son of the firm’s managing partner for the first time. She had fallen in love with him several weeks later, while working together late into the evening. He had reached across the conference room table to take her hand in his.
She looked at his face across the café table. Another late night. Another table.
Thousands of miles away from where they had been.
Yet, there was something in the way he looked at her that made her remember, made her hope.
“I miss you, Angela. The firm misses you. Come back.”
Jeffrey took her hand. She intertwined her fingers with his.
“I can’t.” She looked down at their joined hands, indulging herself in the familiar feel of his touch. “I’m going back to New York, but not to your firm, Jeffrey. I have interviews lined up.”
“I know. Wilshire Moore and Greenlee Financial, is it?” Jeffrey pulled his hand away and leaned back. He frowned thoughtfully. “Good firms. I play golf with Malcolm Moore. Oh, and Arthur Greenlee belongs to my country club. We meet for drinks inthe lounge once a week. Didn’t you know that?” He tsked and tightened his tie. “What a shame, Angela. I thought we knew each other better than that. Surely you know that I make it a point to keep acquaintance with other executives in the industry. It’s the only way to maintain the upper hand.”
Angela straightened her spine. She wished she were wearing a suit and heels.
“Don’t look so crushed. It’s a compliment. You’re worth enough for me to make the effort. Here, drink.” He pushed her untouched coffee across the table and glanced at the fluorescent light overhead. “These conditions aren’t ideal for negotiations, but it’ll do. I’ll give you a thirty percent raise and you can have any apartment in the city you want. No lease, it’ll be yours for good.”
“For what?”
“Excuse me?”
“What are you giving me the raise for?”
“Incentive. A job well done.”
Angela shook her head and pushed her coffee mug away. “A job well done? In the boardroom, or as your girlfriend?”
“We make a good team, Angela. At least when things were good. And you know they were good. In the boardroom and…elsewhere.” He smiled into his mug and took a sip, reminding her of when they’d tasted that apple cider from a street vendor in Vermont, sitting on a park bench with fall leaves drifting all around them. His eyes flicked back to hers. “Can you deny that?”
She looked around the café, needing to pull herself out of her own thoughts. Mitzi tended the counter. Sensing Angela’s stare, she looked up and narrowed her eyes, then cleared some dishes and shoved through the kitchen door.
“You don’t want to stay here.” Jeffrey said, drawing her attention back to him.
“No,” she said, resigned to honesty. “I don’t. My time here is almost up. The arena is making money, and I’ll be selling my portion soon. Your money helped.”
Jeffrey laughed. “I always thought you were cute when you scrunch your face up like that, but don’t look so despondent. There are worst things than accepting my help.” He spread his fingers on the table. “When I couldn’t find an investor I knew I still had to do something. Believe it or not, I had no other motives.”
“Yet, here you are.” She signed and leaned her arms on the table, her shoulders hunched. “You can’t expect me to pick up where we left off, there were reasons we broke up. You hurt me.”
“When you come home,” he said excitedly, leaning over the table, “we’ll go to that lighthouse we found in Maine. Do you remember the lighthouse, Angela? It’ll be like it was, before we screwed it up.”
The lull of his voice brought her back to New York. For just a moment she inhaled the scents of street carts and bakeries, heard the voices rising all around her. She felt the energy of a city of people terrified of slowing down – everything contradictory to Grace. She thought of herself as she had been just a few months earlier, existing in this fast, but limited world. She had been getting by; living only for the sake of breathing.
“I’m going back to New York,” she said stiffly. “But not for you.”
“So you keep saying.” Jeffrey chuckled and sat back in his chair, absolutely pleased with himself. “And you have no contractual obligations to the firm, nor to me. But you and I both know that not all contracts are in writing. I invested in you.”
“And you’ll get your advertising. The rodeo will be broadcast on television; perhaps not the major networks, but we guarantee nationwide exposure.”
“What of my other investments?”
“I owe you nothing else.”
“You owe me your career, Angela. I lifted you.”
It stung to think he helped her along the way because they had been sleeping together. And everything she knew about the business, all the smarts she had gained, were whittled down to nothing in the expanse of those few seconds, under Jeffrey’s condescending stare. There was a time this would have made her roll over in surrender to him.
But she was sick of surrendering.
“I’d still be something without you, Jeffrey. Don’t give yourself so much credit. I’m something now, even without your help. I have my rodeo arena.” And she knew that was true, even if she chose to give it back.
The anger flashed in his eyes. His mouth contorted into something between a smile and a scowl. “Neither Greenlee or Moore will hire you, not after they hear what I have to say.”
She started to bite something back at him when an empty chair plopped into the open space at the tiny table. Cole sat down in it, flashing a mouthful of teeth.
“Evening,” he said cheerfully and tipped his hat.
Jeffrey smiled thinly, irritated with the interruption. “And you are…?”
“Cole Jordan. Angie’s partner.” He shook Jeffrey’s hand, his arm straining through his shirt. “And you would be…”
“Jeffrey Sykes.”
Realization dawned and Cole’s eyes hardened. His grin waned.
“I was just speaking with Angela about the rodeo arena,” Jeffrey said. “I came by to see what my sponsorship is paying for. My firm is very pleased to support a business venture that is so well run.”
“Well,” Cole said, drawing out the word purposely, “we got by just fine without your money, but more never hurts. As I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Of course. It’sall about the bottom line, isn’t it?”
“Depends on where the line is drawn.” Cole raised his chin. The small muscles in the side of his jaw flexed.
“Interesting you should mention that.” Jeffrey smiled. “Miss Donnelly seems to be sitting on the middle of a line, you and I on either side. It’ll be interesting to discover where her loyalties lie.”
Cole looked at Angela, his expression quizzical and amused all at once. “Angie’s loyalties,” he said, “are for Angie. She’s not a pit bull.”
“No.” Jeffrey said. “Her bite’s gentler. But you’d know that, of course.”
Cole stood and pushed back his chair, the hard scraping of wood legs on the tile floor gaining the attention of the other patrons. A fine layer of anger slid into his eyes; his hand fisted, but he kept his cool and loosened his fingers. She knew it cost him.
Jeffrey stood and straightened his jacket. “It was a pleasure to finally meet you face to face, Mr. Jordan.” He then turned to Angela. “It was wonderful seeing you again, Angela. The offer stands.”
She nodded. “And so does my answer.”
“You’ll change your mind. I’ll be in touch.” Jeffrey roamed his eyes over her body, leaving no doubt about his intentions. He wanted her back, as much in a romantic sense as in a professional one. As he walked toward the door she had the urge to throw her coffee mug at him. Since there were too many witnesses, she had to settle for a glare at his back.
“I was at The Wat
er Hole with Ralph. Jim Markey stopped by and said he saw you over here. Thought you needed rescuing.”
“My hero.” She tightened her jaw and rubbed the back of her neck, the beginnings of a headache creeping into her temples.
“Jim’s a good guy. Albeit a bit crazy, but he does right by his friends.”
“Agreed, but I was talking about you.” Angela shoved her trembling hands into her pockets. “Thank you.”
“He come by to rehash old times?” Cole asked.
“Something like that.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Cole said, “he’s just a pampered pretty boy with an expense account.”
“Yeah. I know. Do I need to explain?”
“What needs explaining? Seems clear to me.”
Angela nodded. “Don’t cash his check. I’m cancelling the banners first thing.”
“Angie-”
“I’m serious, Cole. We’ll get the money another way. I’ll fly to New Mexico to beg Cowhide Boots for their sponsorship if I have to.”
“Okay, Ang. You got it.” He adjusted his hat and opened the door for her. “What’d you ever see in that guy, anyway?”
Angela shrugged and stepped outside into the cool and moonless night. “A pampered pretty boy with an expense account,” she said easily, and then, “goodnight Cole.”
She walked away, leaving him to wonder whether she was joking.
Sixteen
Angela set her grocery bags onto the kitchen counter and reached for the light switch. Her fingertips brushed something warm and hairy. She lurched back and rammed into the sharp corner of the counter. Pain shot through her hip and down her leg.
“Who’s there?” A figure moved toward her, silhouetted by the moonlight streaming through the window. Angela cried out into the darkness and scurried away from the shadow. “Who are you?”
“Well, now, that’s not a nice welcome for a guest in your home.” The lights flickered on. A large man in a beige suit and a turquoise bolo tie settled companionably onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen peninsula. A large grin stretched beneath his bulbous nose. “Then again, this isn’t exactly your home, is it?”
“Who are you?” She fumbled behind her back and managed to pull a knife from the butcher block. “What are you doing here?”
Heart of Grace (Return to Grace Trilogy #1) Page 18