Текст книги "Spring Fever"

Автор книги: Mary Kay Andrews

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

“Fine,” Davis said tersely. “You seem to have it all figured out. I’ll leave it to you.”

“Davis, enough!” Mason snapped. “Annajane didn’t hire Donnell Boggs because she wanted to party with a bogus celebrity. You did. Now stop with the pissy attitude and let’s get this fixed.”

Davis stood abruptly and dumped his nearly full Quixie can into a metal trash can, where the sound of metal meeting metal made a hollow clang.

“You can’t fire me,” he told his brother. “And you can’t stop the inevitable. You can slow it down, but only until next week, when old man Norris gets off his ass and tells us how the trust works. But we both know how it’s gonna go down. Mama’s tired of watching this company slide into the dumper. She’ll vote to sell. And when that happens, you’ll be out. I guarantee.”

*   *   *

Mason watched his brother’s exit with a pained expression on his face. He turned to Annajane. “Fun times, huh?”

She winced. “That was pretty brutal.”

“At least we cleared the air,” Mason said. “No more of this bullshit passive-aggressive radio silence. He knows how I feel, and I definitely know where he stands on things. Also, it’s gonna be expensive, but at least we’re shed of that slime-dog Donnell Boggs. I knew that guy was trouble the minute I laid eyes on him.”

“I guess we’re just lucky he got arrested before the new campaign rolled completely out,” Annajane said.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Mason said. “I’ve had a private investigator following him for weeks. As soon as he saw Boggs pull into the motel parking lot with that girl yesterday, he called me, and then he tipped the cops.”

30

An unfamiliar woman’s voice on the other end of the line asked, “Is this Annajane Hudgens?”

She glanced at the caller ID screen on her phone, but it said UNKNOWN.

“Yes,” Annajane said cautiously. “Who’s calling?”

“My name is Katie Derscheid. I’m a friend of a friend of your friend, Pokey Riggs. I understand you’re interested in knowing something about Celia Wakefield and Gingerpeachy?”

Annajane’s pulse quickened. She got up from her desk and closed and locked her office door. Just in case. She’d been working furiously all day, trying to rebuild and rebook the summer Quixie promotion, had even worked straight through lunch, so she’d fortunately managed to avoid Celia. But she wouldn’t put it past Celia to be lurking somewhere nearby.

She sat back down at her desk and straightened her shoulders. “Hi Katie. I was actually going to call you today, until I got involved in putting out assorted forest fires around here.” She lowered her voice til it was just above a whisper, and still deliberately avoided saying Celia’s name out loud. Just in case. “So … you do know her?”

“Ohhhh yes,” Katie Derscheid said. “She’s, uh, not a friend of yours, is she?”

“No,” Annajane said, a slight shiver going down her spine. “Definitely not.”

“Oh goodie,” Katie said. “Now we can really talk girl to girl.”

Annajane laughed ruefully. “She’s a bit of an enigma, isn’t she?”

“She’s a scorpion,” Katie said. “Absolutely deadly. And not in a good way. She screwed my former company, Baby Brands, big-time.”

“Interesting,” Annajane said. “The company I work for, Quixie, hired, um, that person, as a consultant, based on her reputation as a sort of girl genius with branding and business development.”

“Yeah, what’s genius about Celia is her ability to totally bullshit her way through life,” Katie said.

“Did she really sell her company for ten million? That’s what we all heard. In fact, I think she kind of alluded to that herself.”

“The purchase price was actually just under half that—five million,” Katie said. “The deal was structured so that Celia would be paid in staggered amounts. She did take Baby Brands for more than a million in cash, but she’ll never see another dime of their money—not if their lawyers have their say.”

“Oh my,” Annajane breathed. “So … what happened?”

“Smoke and mirrors,” Katie said cryptically. “That was the essence of her company. When Baby Brands bought Gingerpeachy, they were told she had millions in orders from several chain retailers—Gymboree, Pottery Barn Kids, Macy’s. We bought everything—the name, the outstanding orders, the inventory. And all of it was bogus. The order numbers were wildly inflated, and as for inventory—there was none. A couple bolts of fabric and a ton of factory seconds that were unsalable as far as we were concerned.”

Annajane’s eyes widened. “How did she manage to pull that off?”

Katie’s laugh was the deep, throaty chortle of a woman who’d seen a lot. “Celia Wakefield has ESP—extrasensual perception. She meets a guy, and within a couple hours, he’s begging her to ‘beat me, hurt me, make me write bad checks.’”

“And that’s what happened at your company?”

“She met the president of Baby Brands, Reeve Sonnenfeld, in the lobby bar at the Mansion at Turtle Creek, in Dallas, during the Winter Mart week. Celia was repping her own line in a little showroom at the time.”

“I think I know where this is going,” Annajane said. “She met my boss in the exact same way.”

“Gotta love a gal who trolls hotel bars, right?” Katie said with a chuckle. “She’s one step up from a whore, that Celia. Anyway, she strikes up a conversation with Reeve, tells him she’s got this great line of dresses, reversible, all cotton—she even whips a sample dress out of her purse to show him. And then she acts all surprised when he tells her he IS Baby Brands. They have a couple more drinks; then Celia gives him her business card and takes off, leaving Reeve begging for another look, if you know what I mean. Of course, they meet later that night, after Reeve’s wife Sandee has gone back to the suite.”

“Right there in the same hotel with his wife?” Annajane asked.

“Oh, it was all business,” Katie said. “At first. Reeve came back from Dallas raving about this brilliant young entrepreneur he was going to ‘mentor.’ It was revolting. I mean, she’s two years younger than his daughter, for God’s sake. Pretty soon, he’s flying off to meet Celia in Atlanta and LA for Marts there, only those times, he made sure Sandee stayed home. Everybody in the company knew what was going on with those two. Everybody but Sandee.”

Annajane leaned back in her desk chair and looked out her office window. It was getting late in the day. The parking lot was emptying out. She got up and walked over to the window. If she stood at just the right angle, she could see Celia’s parking space. It was empty. She exhaled noisily.

“Hey, are you still there?” Katie asked.

“I’m here,” Annajane said. “What happened next?”

“The inevitable,” Katie said. “Reeve got the brilliant idea to buy Gingerpeachy. As soon as the deal was inked, Celia and Reeve were history. And we were left holding a big bag of Gingerpeachy crap. It couldn’t have happened at a worse time. You know what the economy’s like.”

“Is Baby Brands in trouble?” Annajane asked.

“They’ll survive,” Katie said drily. “Of course, it meant some belt tightening. Which meant I lost my job.”

“Oh, wow, I’m sorry,” Annajane said. “So, how does she get away with something like that? I mean, isn’t what she did fraud or something?”

“Or something,” Katie said. “It’s all been kept pretty hush-hush. But yeah, I think Baby Brands has started legal action against Celia.”

“You mentioned Celia met your vice president at a hotel bar,” Katie said. “Are they having a fling?”

“No. Davis was infatuated with her, but strictly on a professional basis, as far as I know,” Annajane said. She was somehow reluctant to reveal to this stranger that Celia had targeted a much bigger fish at Quixie, in the form of Mason. “He brought her into the company as a consultant, based on what he thought was her marketing expertise and, of course, because of her track record starting and selling a successful retail business like Gingerpeachy.”

Katie’s laugh sounded sour. “Let me just fill you in on Celia Wakefield. First of all, is she still peddling that line of crap about how she designed the original PopTot dress?”

“Yeah,” Annajane said. “I’ve seen the dresses. They really are adorable.”

“They’re very adorable,” Katie said. “But there’s some question of who actually came up with the idea for them.”

“Really?”

“After Baby Brands bought out Gingerpeachy, Parenting magazine did a nice spread on the dresses,” Katie said. “Not long afterwards, the reporter who did the piece called to let us know that she’d had a call from a woman claiming that Celia stole the idea from her.”

“Why do I have a mental image of the theme music from Jaws in my head?” Annajane asked.

“A shark would be insulted to be compared to Celia,” Katie said. “Celia happened to be working at a boutique and she got hold of one of this girl’s sample dresses, which she was sewing at home with her mother. So Celia, sniffing an opportunity, drew up a business plan, hired a sewing room, and turned out a line of dresses exactly like the ones from the boutique. The next thing you know, she’s the girl genius of retailing.”

“Did you do anything to check out the other woman’s claim?” Annajane asked.

“Nope,” Katie said. “It’s not like she trademarked the dresses. Anyway, there wasn’t anything we could do about it. We listened to her story, but what could we do? We’d been victimized, too. By then, Celia was long gone.”

“I know,” Annajane said, putting down her pencil. “By then, she was here.”

There was a knock at Annajane’s office door. Her pulse quickened. “Katie, I have to go now. There’s somebody at my door. Thanks so much for the information.”

*   *   *

Mason stood in the hallway outside her office, his laptop case slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, you,” he said, looking puzzled. “You’re locking yourself in now?”

“Sorry,” Annajane said. “I had so much going on; I just couldn’t deal with distractions today.”

“Wish I could lock myself in. Or other people out,” Mason said. “Look, it’s nearly six. Wanna go get some dinner?”

Annajane looked up and down the hallway. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “I’ve still got a ton of work to catch up on.”

“Let it go until tomorrow,” Mason said firmly.

“It’s not just that,” she said. “You know how people are. If they see us out together, it’ll just fire up the rumor mill again.”

“So?” He brushed his hand through his hair, impatient. “I’ve got news for you, Annajane. People in this town already think we’re having some big flaming affair.”

“I hate being the topic of gossip,” Annajane said.

Mason rolled his eyes. “Me, too. Especially when I’m not even getting to do the things people suspect we’re already doing.” He caught her hand. “Come on. Please? We’ve wasted five years pretending we don’t care about each other. I don’t want to waste any more time. Do you?”

She felt so torn. She wanted to see him, be with him. Why was it so hard to say yes to making herself happy?

“Annajane?”

“All right,” she said finally. “But I’ve got to finish up a couple things. I’ll meet you. Where?”

“There’s a new place, Blueplate, in Creekdale. Where the old Emile’s used to be? But it’s silly to drive all the way over there in two separate cars. I’ll go home, check on Sophie, shower and change, and meet you back here—in an hour?”

“It’s a deal,” Annajane said. On impulse, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Now you’re talking.”

31

Blueplate was located in a small wood-shingled cottage set back from the road in Creekdale. Annajane had eaten there once when it had been Emile’s, but hadn’t cared for the ersatz French menu—or the haughty waiters.

Now, though, the place had been transformed. Rough whitewashed plaster walls replaced the overblown red damask wallpaper, and the furnishings were a friendly mélange of wooden tables and mismatched chairs. A small bar took up most of the entryway, and, beyond, they could hear the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversations in the dining room.

The hostess, a slender brunette with pale skin and tattoos wreathing both wrists, identified herself as Tabitha, the owner and wife of the chef, as she gathered up a menu and silverware for them.

“It’s such an awesome night; I think we have a table out on the patio, if you want,” Tabitha offered.

Annajane looked to Mason for approval. “That’d be great,” he said. “We’ve both been cooped up in an office all day. It’ll be nice to have some fresh air.”

As they were led through the dining room, Annajane kept her face lowered and stayed a couple steps ahead of Mason. Realizing that she still felt awkward and self-conscious about being seen in public with him, she gave herself a mental scolding.

Stop hiding! You’ve done nothing wrong. Anyway, it’s only dinner.

The patio was just as charming as the interior of the restaurant, with a rough-beamed peaked ceiling lined with twinkling white lights and a flagstone floor. Despite her earlier internal scolding, Annajane was grateful when the hostess seated them at a table shielded from the rest of the room by an enormous potted hydrangea whose platter-sized blue blossoms formed an effective screen.

They ordered drinks. Mason looked surprised at her order.

“Since when do you drink martinis?” he asked, sitting back in his chair and regarding her with interest. “You always used to like those girly drinks—what, cosmos?”

“Tastes change,” she said lightly. “People change. But I know you still like bourbon.”

“I’ve changed in other ways,” Mason said. “Older and wiser, I hope. More cynical, definitely.”

A single candle in a low jar in the center of the table illuminated his face. She studied it now. His thick blond hair had a few streaks of gray, and crow’s feet etched the corners of his eyes, which somehow seemed a deeper blue, not the clear blue she remembered from their youth. His jawline was still firm, and she realized, with surprise, that he seemed to have lost weight, his cheeks somewhat hollow, his worn blue blazer hanging awkwardly from his shoulders. And now that she thought about it, his khaki slacks bunched at the waist where his belt cinched them too tightly.

She wrinkled her forehead. “How much weight have you lost?”

He shrugged. “I don’t keep track. Maybe twenty, twenty-five.”

“You’re not dieting, right? You never used to have a weight problem.”

He shrugged. “Not dieting. Just kind of distracted with everything going on in my life.”

Annajane laughed. “I wish I had that problem. I can’t think of too many foods I don’t like.”

“Don’t say that.” His voice was sharp. “You’re fine exactly the way you are.”

The waiter brought their appetizer, a sizzling skillet full of sweet briny shrimp sautéed in garlic and olive oil, swimming alongside tiny Greek olives and feta cheese. A loaf of hot crusty bread accompanied the shrimp, and they busied themselves dividing up the shrimp, dipping the bread into the fragrant juices.

“Mmm,” Annajane said appreciatively between bites. “Heaven. I like this place so much better than Emile’s. I’ll have to come back here.”

“How was the rest of your day?” she asked, after the waiter removed the remains of the shrimp and brought their entrées.

Mason took a bite of his flounder, chewed, and considered. “Difficult. Davis is determined to battle me on every issue, large and small. Business decisions that should be routine, things like truck maintenance or contracts with vendors, all of a sudden, he’s questioning, objecting to, second-guessing.”

He shook his head. “It’s like he feels like he has to stir every pot.”

“Maybe he’s trying to prove himself.”

“To whom? He’s family. It’s not like I can fire him, as he so aptly pointed out today.”

“I don’t know,” Annajane admitted. “Being an only child, your family dynamic is kind of hard for me to read. Maybe he feels he has to prove himself to himself. Or your mom.” She took a sip of water and had another thought. “Or Celia.”

“Celia,” Mason put his fork down and frowned. “Much as it pains me, I think this is a topic we can’t keep avoiding.”

“You don’t have to talk about her,” Annajane offered.

“Yeah. I do.” He picked up his fork and took another bite of fish. And then another.

“It’s like she casts this giant shadow over us. I can’t get around it. Can’t seem to get away from her.”

Annajane giggled. “You make her sound like this huge presence, when in reality, she’s this teeny-tiny little person.”

He grimaced. “Her physical size is one of many deceptive aspects to Celia. I guess I found that out the hard way. It’s like she … wills something, and it happens. She showed up at Quixie, and she was smart and hardworking…”

“And sexy,” Annajane put in. “Glittery and fascinating and compelling.”

“On the surface, maybe,” Mason agreed. “But when you get her alone, one on one, after a while, you realize there’s just nothing much there. She doesn’t read, except business stories, doesn’t watch movies or television, except CNBC. Really, the only thing I think she’s passionate about is money. Making it, and spending it.”

Annajane took a sip of the wine he’d ordered her, gathering courage. “You two did seem like an odd match to me.”

“She was … different. I guess that’s what fascinated me about her,” Mason admitted. “And okay, I was surprised she didn’t go for Davis, the lady’s man of the family. Maybe I was flattered that she was so openly pursuing me.”

“Or your money,” Annajane said, wondering if she should share what she’d just learned about Celia’s business dealings with her ex-fiancé.

“Davis has as much money as I do,” Mason pointed out.

“But maybe not as much power over the company. Anyway,” she added, “I get what she saw in you—besides the financial aspect.”

“And what would that be?”

She gave him a gentle smile. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

“No. Seriously. Are you still attracted to me?”

Color crept into her cheeks and she looked away.

“Annajane?” His knee touched hers lightly under the table.

Another sip of wine. “I never stopped being attracted to you, but then you knew that. Even … when my world fell apart, it was so hard, being around you, seeing you, knowing what you were capable of.”

He looked stricken. “How would I know what you were thinking back then? You deliberately cut yourself off from me. You wouldn’t return my calls, or talk to me, or even listen to reason. And then Dad died…”

She sighed. “I was crushed. I couldn’t stand to see you. It was so painful, knowing…”

“Annajane,” his voice was even. He pushed his half-eaten dinner aside. “You’ve spent five years dodging me, hiding from me, even though all that time, I was right there. You told me earlier tonight that you’ve grown up. Matured. Are you finally ready to listen to me now?”

Her eyes met his. “Are you ready to tell me the truth?”

“I never lied to you about that night,” he said, returning her gaze. “I was never unfaithful to you. Never even considered it. I loved you, and you were all I wanted.”

She felt the old shame, the bitterness welling up in her throat. Unbidden, the memories of that night—the last night of their marriage—came flooding back.

“You never came home!” she said urgently. “You knew it was the company Christmas party, that I was counting on you. But you didn’t even bother to call. I was humiliated. And then I really thought you’d been in an accident or something. You have no idea how terrified I was. But when you came home and acted as if I should have known it was ‘just business’ that you were out with that woman … Eva.”

“Christ,” he muttered. He leaned over and dabbed at her eyes with his dinner napkin. “I’d completely blocked her name from my memory.”

“I’ll never forget her name,” Annajane said, her voice wobbly. “Or her handwriting. On that CD I found in your car.”

“Can I tell you something?” He took her chin and cupped it between his palms. “I couldn’t tell you this that night. I wanted to, but I was so mad at you for thinking I’d cheated, my damned pride wouldn’t let me.”

“Tell me what?”

“You found that CD, but it wasn’t mine. It was the company car, remember? I drove it to Atlanta and back, but it was the company car.”

She stared. “Then, whose?”

“Dad’s. God help me, it was Dad’s.”

She sat back, stunned. “Your father? He was the one having an affair with that Eva woman?”

Mason nodded sadly. “That’s why we were so late getting back that night. We signed the papers for the Maxi-Mart deal, and we were all supposed to meet up afterwards at the Ritz-Carlton in Buckhead for dinner. Dad offered to drive Eva back to her hotel so she could change for dinner, and he made it clear to me that he didn’t need me riding shotgun. So I stalled for a while, and finally caught a ride over to the Ritz with one of the Maxi-Mart guys. We had drinks in the bar, and waited … and waited. I kept excusing myself to go to the men’s room, so I could call Dad’s cell, but he wasn’t answering. I didn’t know what the hell to think.”

“You had no idea he was seeing her?” Annajane asked.

“None,” he said bitterly. “He knew I wouldn’t put up with that crap. I caught him, once, years ago, with another woman. At the cottage at Wrightsville Beach. Pokey was with me. I confronted him; we had a huge blow-up. That’s the summer I left town. I couldn’t stand to look him in the face for nearly a year; I was so disgusted with him for cheating on Mom. On us.”

“Pokey told me about that,” Annajane admitted.

It was his turn to get taken by surprise. “She swore she’d never say a word. We both did.”

“Relax,” Annajane chided him. “She only told me the other night, at the hospital, while we were waiting for Sophie’s surgery. She said that was how she knew you wouldn’t have cheated on me. Because you didn’t want to be like your dad.”

Mason let out a long breath and sat back in his chair. “He was a hero to me in so many ways, you know? He was a great dad. As busy as he was with Quixie, he always had time to spend with us kids. And I know he loved my mother. You saw them together. He was devoted to her! So how could he? It made me sick to think about it.”

“Your dad was a good man,” Annajane said. “He did so much for this community, in Passcoe. He could have spent his time being just another rich prick, but he wasn’t like that. He genuinely cared about people. And he did love your family. Especially Sallie. I guess maybe some men just compartmentalize things. They think sex and love are two different things, and it’s okay to sleep around, as long as their wife doesn’t find out and nobody gets hurt. I can’t explain it, but I believe it’s so.”

“I’m not like that,” Mason said evenly. “I’m not like him. Not that way.”

“Tell me about that night,” she urged. “I’m ready to listen now. I want to understand what happened.”

He took a sip of wine and closed his eyes, remembering the evening. “It was getting late, so we finally ordered dinner,” Mason said. “I was beginning to think I might have to cab back to the hotel and spend another night, because I had no idea where Dad and Eva were. Finally, at around ten o’clock, the two of them came strolling in, acting like nothing had happened. It was ten o’damned clock! We were the last party left in the dining room. The waiters were literally sweeping the floors and polishing the glasses in the bar.”

“Did they have some kind of an explanation for where they’d been?”

“Dad had some lame-ass story about how they’d stopped for a drink on the way over and just lost track of time,” Mason said, his lips curling in disgust. “It was a load of crap. He reeked of gin, and her hair looked like she’d just gotten out of bed. They were screwing their brains out in her hotel room. It didn’t take an ace detective to figure it out. We ordered coffee, and finally, at eleven, I managed to drag him out of there. And then, on top of everything, it really did start snowing. The farther north of Atlanta we got, the icier the roads were.”

“You should have called,” Annajane said. “Just to let me know.”

“I know I should have. Now,” he said. “I was a selfish, self-centered idiot. I was so furious with Dad, I couldn’t even speak. And he was half in the bag. He fell asleep as soon as he got in the passenger seat. I swear to God, more than once, as I was driving, I had the urge to reach over and throttle him. For what he’d put me through. And what he was doing to Mom. I didn’t give a thought to you.”

Annajane sighed. “Why didn’t you just tell me that night—as soon as you got home?”

“I don’t know,” Mason admitted. “I remember how tired I was, and then you were so pissed at me; I just wasn’t in the mood for a fight right then. I’d made up my mind, the next day, to have it out with Dad. I was seriously thinking, on that long drive home, maybe it was time to leave Quixie. Get out from under all the family drama, and see if I could make it on my own someplace else. I hated his guts that night.”

“I wish I’d known,” Annajane said.

“I shook him awake when we got to Cherry Hill that night,” Mason said. “I didn’t even cut the engine. I just said, ‘We’re home.’ He got out of the car. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. He could tell how angry I was. I think he said something like, ‘Talk to you tomorrow,’ and he staggered toward the front door. And I just drove off. Of course, the next time I saw him, he was barely alive. All I could think about was how I’d left it with him. ‘We’re home’—that’s the last thing I ever said to my father.”

“Oh, Mason,” Annajane began.

Just then, Mason’s cell phone began to ring. He looked annoyed but pulled it from his pocket and looked at the readout screen.

His expression softened as he saw who the caller was. “Hey, Soph,” he said. “Everything okay?”

Mason listened for a moment, then laughed. “No, afraid not, punkin. Letha is the boss, and if the boss says you have to go to bed, then you’d better skedaddle. Okay? Hmm? Yeah, actually she’s right here.”

He handed the phone to Annajane. “Sophie would like a word with you.”

“Hi, Sophie,” she said.

“Annajane, Aunt Pokey says you spent the night at her house last night.”

“That’s right,” she said cautiously.

“No fair!” the girl cried. “Petey and Denning and Clayton get all the fun. I want you to spend the night at my house.”

“Not tonight,” Annajane said. “Maybe the next time your daddy has to go out of town, I can come over and we’ll have a spend-the-night party. Girls only! How would that be?”

“Come tonight,” Sophie said.

“I can’t tonight, sweetie,” Annajane said. “It’s a school night for you, and a work night for me.”

“But Letha says I’m not going to school tomorrow, because I had an operation.”

Annajane rolled her eyes at Sophie’s logic. “I forgot about that. However, I still have to go to work. We’ll have our slumber party. Soon. Okay?”

“Oh-kay,” the child said reluctantly.

She handed the phone back to Mason, barely suppressing a yawn. “Speaking of skedaddling. Guess I better call it a night, too. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and tomorrow, I think, is gonna be another killer day.”

“We need to talk about something else,” Mason said, keeping his voice low. “It’s … about Celia.”

Annajane put her wineglass down carefully. “I’m listening.”

“First, we need to talk about us,” Mason said. “The other night, you told me—there was no us. There never could be. But then you broke your engagement to Shane. I’m kinda getting mixed signals here, Annajane.”

She gave a wry smile. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“Let me ask you something,” Mason said, leaning forward so that his knees were touching hers under the table. “In a perfect world—where we hadn’t split up, where there was no Shane and there was no Celia—do you think we’d still be together?”

“No,” Annajane said.

His face fell.

“Not the answer you wanted, I know. But I just think our lives were veering so off track, we probably wouldn’t have made it—even without the things that broke us up. Your family—mine—our jobs, our own selfishness, pride and insecurity, we had to work through all those things. I don’t know about you, but I think I’m only just now really starting to figure out how to be a grown-up. So maybe now I’m almost ready to have a mature, committed relationship.” She laughed. “Of course there’s just one thing standing in the way of that.”

“Celia.”

Annajane shrugged.

“I can’t,” he started to speak, and then reconsidered.

“No matter what else happens, I want you to know that I love you. I always have. That’s never changed. Do you believe me?”

“I guess.” Her pulse was racing. She glanced up at him, then looked away.

“No, that’s not good enough,” Mason said, taking her hand and looking directly into her eyes. “I need you to understand that there are things that are out of my control. Situations…”

She lifted her chin. “Why don’t you just come right out and tell me what’s going on?”

“She’s pregnant,” Mason said.

Annajane picked up her glass of wine and sipped slowly. She was aware of the hum of voices around them, the smell of a sizzling steak being carried to a table next to theirs, the easy jazz playing on the restaurant’s sound system, the breeze rifling the fronds of the potted fern next to their table. A tiny piece of her brain noted these things and filed them away. This is how it felt the night I learned I would never win the man I loved. I drank this wine and ate these foods, and I will never see or smell or taste these things again without thinking of that night.

“What will you do now?” she asked, putting the wineglass down because her hand was starting to shake. She rested her left hand on top of her right, to keep it from trembling.

“I don’t know yet,” Mason said. “She just told me a couple days ago.”

Annajane bit her lip and looked away. “And she’s sure?”

“So she claims,” Mason said bitterly. “At first I couldn’t believe it. I mean, we’ve been living apart for weeks now. She was obsessed with all this wedding stuff, and Sallie decided it didn’t look right to Sophie for us to be living together, so Celia has pretty much been staying at Cherry Hill. Plus, I guess maybe I subconsciously knew I didn’t want to go through with the wedding, because I just didn’t have the desire…” His face colored briefly and he looked genuinely ill. “I couldn’t even remember the last time…”

“I’ll bet Celia could,” Annajane said. She felt bile rising in her throat. Had Celia done this on purpose? Deliberately gotten pregnant just to make sure Mason would marry her?