Wishing and Hoping Page 8

  “Maybe I should fire her.”

  “Oh, no! Don’t do that!”

  “Tia, it’s only because she’s here that we have to sleep together.”

  “I thought you were sleeping on the floor.”

  Great. “Yeah, that’s right. I said that.”

  She shook her head. “It really doesn’t matter since I’m leaving tonight.”

  “You’re leaving tonight?”

  “I have to be at work bright and early tomorrow. About an hour ago I realized it would be smarter for me to leave as soon as we finished dinner, rather than try to get up early enough to drive in the morning.”

  “Oh.” All Drew’s hormones dropped dead as if they’d been shot. “Oh,” he said again, not nearly as concerned with his dearly departed hormones as he was with the disappointment that spiraled through him. “I didn’t realize you had to leave so soon.”

  “The campaign that kept me in Pittsburgh for the past two weeks hasn’t been redone yet.”

  He couldn’t complain about her failed campaign since it had saved them from spending two long weekends together before their wedding, when they could have slipped up. It had also saved them from taking a fake honeymoon. He should be applauding it. He should not feel disappointed.

  “So, does this mean you can’t come home next weekend?”

  “No. We now have a new concept for the cereal account. The team leader has already run it by Mr. Barrington, who sort of growled his approval.” She grimaced. “There’ll be no surprises in our presentation, but also no big failure, either. The point is, I’ll be able to come home on weekends.” She peeked at him. “That is, if you think it’s a good idea.”

  “Considering that we aren’t taking a honeymoon, I think it might look suspicious if you don’t.”

  “Me, too.” She glanced down at her cleaned plate, as if finally realizing she’d finished eating. “So, I guess I’ll just go upstairs and get my makeup case.”

  “Great.”

  “I’ll leave my other things here…in the drawers. Since I’ll be back next week.”

  “Fine.”

  “Okay.”

  She rose and left the room and when the door swung closed behind her, Drew also rose and went to the foyer to wait for her. At first, he considered kissing her goodbye at the bottom of the steps, putting on something of a show for Mrs. Hernandez, but his heart wasn’t in it. He scolded himself, once again reminding himself that he should not be disappointed because technically he was getting out of a long night of torture. But he was disappointed and he couldn’t figure out why.

  When she came downstairs, he walked her outside, across the porch and to her car. She tossed her makeup case onto the passenger’s-side seat and said, “I’ll see you Friday night.”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Just give me a quick kiss so I can get going.”

  The way she said that made his blood simmer. He knew this was a charade. He knew he shouldn’t feel disappointed. He knew he should be glad to kiss her outside, in the dim glow of the pole lamps he used to light the way to his garage and stables. He also knew he should be glad it could be a quick kiss, but he wasn’t any of that. He didn’t know what in the hell he was. But he wasn’t glad. Not even a little bit.

  In the end, he gave her the quick kiss, refusing to fall victim to the temptation of her mouth. He watched her drive down the lane, waving, and then stormed up to his room. He would shower, put on something comfortable and watch TV before going to bed and getting a decent night’s sleep. If it killed him, he would be glad she was gone.

  But the second he stepped into his room, he smelled her and he realized it was going to be a long night anyway. He reminded himself that if he made this marriage real the divorce would be much more painful, but it didn’t help. He might have been able to use that line on himself before this, but tonight it didn’t work. All he could think of was that she was his wife.

  And she was already pregnant.

  And he was having the devil’s time convincing himself that he had to keep his hands off her.

  Chapter Six

  As Drew entered his kitchen the following Thursday morning, Mrs. Hernandez said, “I heard you walking around last night.”

  Heading for the breakfast nook, Drew said nothing. As far as he was concerned, his pacing around his house for the past four nights as if lost made perfect sense for a newlywed whose brand-new wife worked in another city. It made no sense at all for a man who wasn’t supposed to want to be married. But that didn’t matter. Mrs. Hernandez knew only the charade. So she should think his behavior normal.

  “You know, if you wanted to, you could drive to Pittsburgh.”

  Halfway between the breakfast nook and the back door, Drew stopped dead in his tracks and faced Mrs. Hernandez. If he didn’t at least address this, she’d nag him for the rest of the day. “Drive to Pittsburgh and do what?”

  Mrs. Hernandez shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe just be there when she gets home?”

  “She’s busy, Mrs. Hernandez. She doesn’t need me underfoot.”

  “Or maybe what she needs is a supportive husband waiting with dinner when she gets home?”

  Drew squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. She had him. There was no way he could win this argument. Any reason he gave for staying home made him look like a bad husband. At the same time, he couldn’t actually go to Pittsburgh and be at Tia’s house tonight. Talk about a way to give his pretend wife all the wrong ideas. Tia would only be hurt in this deal if he allowed her to get her hopes up that this marriage could become real. And she’d only think the marriage might become real if he started doing things to lead her to believe that. He couldn’t make a surprise trip to Pittsburgh.

  Instead of continuing on to the breakfast nook, he walked to the front door and grabbed his hat. His only recourse was retreat. “I don’t have time for breakfast.”

  “But—”

  Drew opened the door and ran across his back porch and down the three steps to the sidewalk. It was a damned shame that a man’s home ceased to be a haven. But his haven was now gone. Not only could he smell Tia in his bedroom and feel her presence in most of the other rooms of his house, but now Mrs. Hernandez was starting on him.

  In the end, he gave her the quick kiss, refusing to fall victim to the temptation of her mouth. He watched her drive down the lane, waving, and then stormed up to his room. He would shower, put on something comfortable and watch TV before going to bed and getting a decent night’s sleep. If it killed him, he would be glad she was gone.

  He jumped into his truck and drove to town. Too long before six o’clock in the morning for it to matter, he found himself on the threshold of the diner, about to pay for food that was probably going to waste on his kitchen counter. Unfortunately, as he pulled open the diner door, he caught sight of Mark Fegan, Rayne’s dad, sitting at a table in the back. He didn’t recognize the man with Mark, but he didn’t care. Running into Mark Fegan that morning would absolutely cap his bad mood and he didn’t want that. Somehow or another, he wanted to put himself in a good mood. He wouldn’t do that by staring at Mark Fegan the whole way through breakfast.

  He backed himself out of the diner door and was about to turn to leave when he noticed Mark and his companion rise. If Drew had arrived two minutes later, he would have missed them. Which meant that if he stayed out of sight for the time it took Rayne’s dad to pay his bill and leave, he could simply walk in and have the nice, peaceful breakfast he wanted.

  He ducked into the space between the diner and the hardware store on the right, knowing that Mark’s office was down the street to the left so he would be out of Mark’s way. It took a minute before the diner door opened. Mark and his friend passed close by Drew as they made their way to a Chevy Suburban parked on the street in front of the diner.

  “I’m not going to sugarcoat this,” the balding, sixty-something man said. “The people I represent think you’re failing them. Putting a few editorials on an op ed page might
have made Capriotti look bad, but he isn’t running scared, and nobody’s talking about voting for Auggie Malloy in November.”

  Mark combed his fingers through his thinning brown hair. “Exactly what do you suggest I do?”

  The man laughed. “Mark, you seem to keep forgetting that you’re the one who promised he could get Capriotti out.”

  “I thought I could. But I got all the mileage I possibly could out of Ben’s heart attack. Even casting aspersions on his sons didn’t create enough stress to push him into bowing out of the race!” Mark countered angrily. “I can’t start making things up.”

  “If you’d check on his daughter, you wouldn’t have to make things up.”

  “Why? You think there’s something noteworthy in her marriage?” He laughed. “She’s had a crush on Drew Wallace since she was a kid.” Drew rolled his eyes. Did everybody know that but him? “Their wedding wasn’t a surprise to anybody.”

  “Her wedding might not be news, but I bet a few people might be surprised to hear Ben’s brilliant daughter is on the brink of being fired.”

  Drew cursed under his breath.

  But Mark looked at his companion as if he were crazy. “Exactly how can I use Ben’s daughter getting fired to make Ben look bad?”

  Mark’s companion shook his head. “You said yourself, this isn’t about reality, but about stress. Pushing Ben until he realizes he has a choice between the election and his health, and hoping he chooses his health.”

  “He’s a lot stronger than I thought.”

  “That’s not my problem. You’re the one who said he could get Ben out. That was the deal you made, and I’m tired of holding your hand. You told us this would be easy. The next time I come back here, I won’t be alone and the guys I’ll bring with me won’t take no for an answer on the money you owe them.”

  With that, the stranger jumped in his Suburban and sped off. Mark stared down the street after him for a few seconds, then blew out a frustrated sigh, turned and began walking down Main Street toward the newspaper offices.

  Drew emerged slowly from the small space between the diner and hardware store. Mark wasn’t flexing his journalistic muscles. This was serious. Not only did Mark Fegan owe money to the wrong people, but it sounded as if Auggie Malloy had probably agreed to change the ordinances or zoning laws necessary to allow an industrial development in Calhoun Corners. So somebody wanted Ben gone. Badly.

  Drew removed his Stetson and combed his fingers through his hair. At least now he knew the reason Mark was trying to get Ben out of office. Even better than that, he knew that Mark had run out of ammunition—except for Tia’s troubles. Though even Mark admitted he couldn’t think of a way to spin that against Ben.

  Drew was tempted to believe that Ben’s problem with bad editorials was over, but his typical pragmatic intuition told him that he couldn’t get too cocky. Mark could be pretty damned crafty if he wanted to be. Drew couldn’t quiet the sixth sense telling him he couldn’t let this loose end hang.

  He smacked his hat against his thigh. Tia had given him the impression her failed cereal campaign was under control, and, since he didn’t think she had lied, that could only mean there was something else going on, or maybe there was another aspect to her original problem. Something she didn’t feel at liberty to confide. He could ask Ben and Elizabeth, but then they’d figure out that Drew and Tia never really talked, so that wouldn’t work, either.

  But even as he thought about talking to Ben and Elizabeth about their daughter, something else struck Drew. Though the vows he and Tia had spoken the Saturday before were supposed to be temporary, he felt a loyalty to his wife that couldn’t be denied. He couldn’t just go to her parents and ask them whether they knew she was about to be fired.

  Of course, if he made a quick trip to Ben and Elizabeth’s to say hello, Tia’s troubles might come up naturally in conversation. If they did, then Drew could analyze whether there really was something to worry about and maybe get a head start on figuring out how to help fix whatever was wrong.

  Drew turned away from the diner and toward his pickup. Ten minutes later he was driving down the Capriotti’s lane. The sun was beginning to come up, so when Drew jumped out of his truck, he headed for the stables rather than the house. He found Ben standing by the corral with one booted foot on the bottom rung of the fence, watching a chestnut mare.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  Drew took in the horse’s well-defined musculature and her shiny coat. “She’s going to produce some terrific foals.”

  “If I can find the right stud, I’m thinking she might just produce my Triple Crown winner.”

  Drew whistled low. “You do have plans.”

  “A few,” Ben said, turning to lean against the fence. “My kids are all gone now, settled. Unconventionally as it may be in Jericho and Rick’s cases. The point is the kids are gone and I’ve got enough put away to live well.” He shrugged. “I can take some risks.”

  Drew nodded.

  “So what brings you by?” Ben asked.

  Drew shrugged. “I don’t know.” He’d already decided he couldn’t ask Ben directly if he knew what was going on with Tia at work, so Drew knew he had to wait for it to come up natuarlly. He grinned and punched Ben’s arm. “I guess I missed you.”

  “Right,” Ben scoffed. “You usually need something when you come over this early.”

  “Really?” Was he that selfish and that predictable?

  “Yeah. So what is it?”

  Knowing this was his opening to bring Tia into the conversation, Drew said the most logical thing, and hoped that Ben picked up the cue. “I guess I just miss Tia.” He shrugged. “You know. Company.”

  Ben laughed. “I thought Mrs. Hernandez lived with you?”

  “She’s not really company. Tia doesn’t talk my leg off about stupidity, yell at me as if she’s my mother or force me to eat vegetables.” Even as he said that, Drew realized it was true. Tia was a very easy person to live with.

  Ben laughed. “She’s a quiet one,” he agreed. “I think after hearing her two brothers constantly arguing, she decided to take one of life’s easier paths. She hardly talks at all.”

  “No kidding,” Drew said, frustrated, because if Ben’s comment was anything to go by, Tia hadn’t spoken to her father about her troubles, either.

  “You two haven’t hit a rough patch already?”

  “No!” Drew protested. Realizing he’d spoken too strongly, he pulled in a quiet breath and said, “I just told you, I’m here because I miss her.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said, glancing out at his horse again. “Tia’s something special.”

  Drew might only be coming to realize that, but her dad had always thought so. Tia wouldn’t spoil her dad’s image of her by admitting to a job failure. Ben wasn’t going to be able to help him.

  “I guess I’ll be heading home.”

  “Elizabeth has some pancakes.”

  Drew’s stomach rumbled and he remembered he hadn’t even had coffee yet. “That might be nice.”

  Ben slapped him on the back. “Let’s go eat.”

  Drew followed Ben into his house, strictly for breakfast. If Tia hadn’t spoken to her dad about her troubles, chances were she hadn’t talked to her mother, either, if only because she wouldn’t want her mother telling her dad.

  He considered phoning her. But what would he say? “Hey, I just called because I heard somebody tell Mark Fegan this morning that you were about to be fired. So, what’s up with your job?”

  Yeah. She’d love that. He had to think of a way to approach her that wouldn’t put her off or make her defensive, but would give her an opening to confess whatever problem she had so that he could help her fix it. Luckily, he still had all of today and Friday to think through how to do that.

  He left Ben and Elizabeth’s house after breakfast, knowing he was going back to a house that held too many memories. He smelled her in his bedroom, pictured her in his dining room and remembered kissing her in his ki
tchen.

  He drove directly to his stable, wondering what the hell had happened to his safe, sane life, and knowing he wouldn’t get even a piece of it back until after he and Tia divorced.

  Somehow, that didn’t comfort him the way it should.

  Tia pulled her sports car into the driveway of Drew’s house Friday night, exhausted because her troubles at work had turned into an out-and-out war. The week had begun normally enough. She had been assigned projects and tasks, but when she tried to ask questions of the staff members who were normally very happy to work with her, nobody would speak to her. At one point, she had stood in the center of their circle of desks frustrated and flabbergasted that in three days nobody had as much as said good morning, and she noticed Glenn Olsen watching her, smirking.

  It didn’t take her genius-level IQ to deduce that Glenn, who was next in line for a promotion and who believed management had hired Tia to groom her to take one of the executive-level positions he’d been working for, wanted her out. In fact, when she thought back to how easily he had accepted her idea for the Barrington Cereal campaign she could kick herself for not seeing he was setting her up. Because her idea had failed, she was responsible for the entire team having to redo one ad campaign while also working on their regularly scheduled project. He hadn’t simply found an avenue to make her look unqualified; he’d found a way to get the other members of her team so angry with her they were freezing her out. Right now, for all intents and purposes, she appeared to be a stupid woman who couldn’t work with people.

  Tired and feeling as defeated as a person could feel, Tia opened the front door of Drew’s house and set her suitcase in the foyer. As she straightened up from dropping her bag, she was enfolded in a bone-crushing hug.

  Mrs. Hernandez squeezed her twice, then let her go and immediately began fussing. “Why are you late? Have you had dinner?” She pushed Tia away and took a long look at her. “Have you eaten at all this week?” She peered at her face. “Are you sleeping?”