Heart's Reward (11 page)

As he prepared for bed he knew that part of what
was holding him back not only from Grace but from living life to its fullest was a freak accident. Right up to today he still remembered getting the call, not understanding what was taking Regina so long to get to the church. The guests were getting restless. So it made no sense to him what the officer on the phone was saying. Accident. Truck. Regina. Fatal. Sorry.

He crawled under the covers. The sheets were cool against his skin. He buried his feelings when he buried Regina. That was how he was able to survive, to move from one day to the next. Until he grew weary of the emptiness.

He turned out the bedside lamp and rolled onto his left side. He'd hoped that when he found someone it would be gradual, building from an attraction, to friendship, to love. That was the way it had happened with him and Regina. He never expected Melanie. She went against the way he'd planned it in his head and he couldn't deal with that. Not to mention that she, in essence, worked for him.

How twisted was that? Not to mention that no matter what he may be feeling or thinking, it was all business to Melanie.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. Was she with Rafe right now?

M
elanie barely slept a wink. Throughout the night her dreams were plagued with images of Claude and Grace. Her business side hoped that the evening was wonderful for the both of them. But Melanie the woman hoped that it was a flop.

She couldn't remember ever being in such an awful position. This was so unlike her not to have total clarity in her life. She always knew what she wanted and how she was going to get it, but from the moment she'd met Claude, all things rational went out the window and it was making her crazy. This was the kind of thing that happened in novels and chick flicks, not to her.

To compound the problem her sense of judgment had gone out the window, as well. She'd been wrong about everything lately, particularly about Rafe Lawson and Claude Montgomery. Neither of them had been what she'd expected and had shot her theories about them straight to hell. What did that say about her ability to do her job, to find the right matches, if she could be so utterly wrong in her own life?

Maybe what she needed was to get away for a little while and gain some perspective. But with the planning of the party in full swing, now wasn't the time. Somehow she'd have to work her way through it.

At least the house was quiet today. Jessica was at her apartment in town. Veronica had a date, Vincent and Cherise were away for the weekend and Evan was off until Monday. Melanie was in the big sprawling house alone.

She wandered downstairs and went to retrieve the paper from the front steps, then went to the kitchen to fix a pot of coffee. While the coffee perked she flipped through the paper, stopping to read the headlines.

She poured her coffee and sipped thoughtfully. Today was a new day, she determined. What was done was done. It was time to move on. She snapped the paper closed and took her coffee to her office. Just
as she sat down at her desk, the business line rang. She started to let it go to voicemail but decided to answer just before the message came on.

“Hello?”

There was a moment of hesitation. “Hello. This is Claude Montgomery.”

Her heart thumped. “Good morning,” she said, pushing cheer and enthusiasm into her voice.

“Sorry to call on the weekend, but I'll be leaving to go back to D.C. Sunday night. I, uh, know that Veronica was anxious to hear what happened last night.”

“Oh.”
Going back to D.C.
“Everyone is off today. I'm actually here alone. How did it go?”

“Everything that you all did was wonderful. No complaints. Grace is…a fabulous woman.”

She could hear the “but” coming and almost welcomed it.

“We both decided that…well she decided that it wasn't going to work.”

There was an immediate sense of relief, almost exultation, which she hid behind a barrage of words. “Sometimes even our best efforts don't always work the first time. I know that Veronica will want to speak with you more in-depth about what we could have done better,” she rambled on until he cut her off.

“It wasn't anything that The Society did or didn't do. I don't want you to think that at all. It's…it's me. I
thought this was something that I wanted but maybe I'm not as ready for commitment as much as I thought I was.”

Her shoulders slumped. Whatever faint inkling of hope she'd harbored was dissolving with every beat of her heart. “I see.”

“So, I want to thank you for everything. For trying. I don't see what sense it makes to drag this out and put Dayna through this with probably the same outcome.”

“You don't know that,” she said, suddenly desperate—not to hold onto a client but to not let Claude go. Even if he was with another woman, she still, in some weird way, had him in her life. “Why don't we…talk about this some more before you make a final decision?”

“Like I said, I'm leaving on Sunday and I need to start packing.”

“I could come to you,” she blurted out. “I mean, we could meet, in Manhattan.”

“Is holding onto a client that important to you?” he asked, his tone suddenly sharp and accusatory.

“What?”

“Look, you can keep the fifty grand if that's what you're concerned with.”

Her neck snapped back. “We don't need your money, Mr. Montgomery. Our business is built on satisfied clients. And the list is long.”

“I'm sure it is,” he said, the sarcasm sharp and hurtful. “Do you make sure that all of your clients get the same treatment that I did?” There, he'd said it, the question that had tormented him from the moment he'd opened his eyes and found the space in the bed next to him empty.

Melanie was so stunned she couldn't speak.

Hot, tension-laced air hung between them.

“I'll have the check delivered by messenger,” she said, finding her voice, though she barely recognized it. “Do what you want with it. Have a good day, Mr. Montgomery.” Her hand shook as she hung up the phone.

Is that what he thought of her? Oh God. Her eyes burned with tears of shame. She had no one to blame but herself. She looked at the phone. She was so tempted to pick it up and call him back. Explain that night. Explain why she'd left. Explain how she'd been feeling ever since. She reached for the phone and before she could talk herself out of it, she hit “last call” and his number dialed.

Her pulse raced as she listened to the ringing, waiting what seemed to be an eternity before it was answered. “Montgomery residence.”

Was this the woman from the hospital? Her brain seemed to freeze and she couldn't think.

“Hello? Montgomery residence,” the voice repeated.

Melanie cleared her throat. “Yes, I was calling for Mr. Montgomery.”

“I'm sorry. You just missed him. May I take a message?”

“Oh…no, thank you.”

“May I tell him who called?”

“Don't worry about it. I'll try him later. Thank you.” She hung up before she was pressed for any more details.

She covered her face with her hands. Her insides shook. Was he really gone? Did he know it was her and simply refused to answer? Who was that woman?

The questions ran behind each other like children playing follow the leader.

She pushed back from her seat and stood, then began pacing the room. Maybe it was best that he didn't answer after all. She probably would have only made matters worse. If that were possible. She inhaled deeply. There was nothing she could do about it now. She returned to her desk and pulled out the checkbook from the drawer.

In the history of the company they'd never returned a client's money. As she filled in the amount of fifty thousand dollars, she consoled herself with the fact that there was a first time for everything. Her next
hurdle would have to be explaining it to the team. At least she had a couple of days to think about what she would say. Just before she stuck the check in an envelope she ripped it into tiny pieces and threw it away. She took out her personal checkbook and rewrote the check from her account. Simply because she'd been a fool was no reason for the business to pay the cost of her stupidity.

After she wrote the check she called the messenger service that she used. She wanted the check off of her desk, out of her house and in his hands sooner rather than later. The service assured her that someone would be there within the hour.

With that nasty task out of the way, she went downstairs to the home gym in the hopes of working off some of her frustrations.

 

As promised, the messenger service arrived and she handed over the check. The sun was still high in the sky. A balmy breeze blew in from off the water. She could hear the laughter of beachgoers in the distance. She shut the door behind her. A perfect day. And she had no one to share it with.

Just as she was heading upstairs to look for a good book to curl up with, she heard the sound of a car pulling into her driveway. Must be one of the kids, she thought until she heard the doorbell ring.

She went back down and came face to face with the last person she expected to see.

“What are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to greet your clients?” His grin was infectious.

“Come in, Mr. Lawson.”

“I thought we'd gotten past that,” he said, stepping inside.

“Rafe.” She smiled and shook her head. “You still haven't answered my question.”

“Actually, I finally took the painting out of my trunk and opened it up. Don't know if all the banging around did it, but the frame was cracked. I just took it back to the gallery to have it fixed. Cynthia was off today.” He shrugged and his dimple winked at her.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“Hmm, ummm. You should be home getting ready for your date tonight.”

“Oh, I figure I'll just throw something on.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, right. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets.

“Getting a little muggy out there. But at least you get the breeze from the ocean.”

“Thankfully. Come on in the kitchen.”

He followed her out. “House is quiet.”

“Yeah, everyone is off today. Have a seat. Tea, coffee, juice?”

“Whatever you're having.” He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair and sat down.

She poured him a mug of coffee, then took the half and half from the fridge and brought both to the table. She sat opposite him. “I think you'll really enjoy your evening tonight.”

“I'm sure I will.” He lightened his coffee just a bit and dropped in a cube of sugar.

“Why do you do this?” he asked, looking at her over the rim of his mug.

“Do what?”

“Spend all your time getting other people together?”

“I enjoy making people happy.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Who makes you happy?”

She glanced away. “No one at the moment. This isn't—”

“Maybe I could,” he said cutting her off.

She drew in a sharp breath. She looked him square in the eye and was stunned to see what almost looked like sincerity in his brandy-toned eyes. “I don't get involved with my clients.”
At least not anymore.

“We can fix that right up.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his checkbook. “Fifty grand, right?”

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you back your money. If I'm not a client, you don't have any excuse not to take me up on my offer of making you happy.”

Had the whole world gone crazy in one day or was it just her? What was going on?

“Don't be silly. I'm not going to take your money. And I'm not going to get involved with you.” She stood and folded her arms.

Rafe chuckled and slowly stood up. He looked down into her upturned face. “I always get what I want, cher, and I don't have to pay for it. It may take some time, but I do. So get ready.” He took his coat from the chair. “Thanks for the coffee. I'll be sure to let you know how the date went.” He turned and walked out.

Moments later she heard the front door close and the sound of Rafe's car engine. She stood there until she couldn't hear anything except the pounding of her heart.

C
laude returned home from his doctor's appointment with an all-clear to return to work. Getting back into the swing of the job was just the medicine he needed. The past month and a half had been a pure roller coaster ride: from meeting Melanie, sleeping with her, the accident, the mess with Traci and now today's blowup with Melanie. He'd come full circle, and he wanted to get as far away from the center of the storm as possible.

He shook off his lightweight jacket, which he really hadn't needed, and hung it on the hook in the hallway. The house was quiet. Lin must have left early to beat the thunderstorm that had been building all day.

He walked into the living room and turned on the television. The weatherman was trying to explain the unexpected storm that was powering across the East Coast. The weatherman needed a new job, he thought absently. He crossed to the bar and fixed a short drink. That's when he noticed the package on the table. He bent to pick it up. It was from a private messenger service. The address was from Sag Harbor. He ripped the envelope open. A small white envelope was inside. He opened it and took out the check. His jaw clenched. He stared at the neat handwriting before carefully folding it and tucking it in his back pocket. He fixed himself a drink, then went up to his bedroom to finish packing.

 

During the course of the next two weeks, Rafe had been set up on three perfect dates. Any one of the women would be right for him. They all but gushed when they spoke about the fabulous time they had, how attentive he was, how funny, sexy, such a gentleman. They couldn't wait to see him again.

Rafe, however, was lukewarm about each and every one, and it was driving Veronica crazy.

“I think he's intentionally giving us a hard time. This is a game to him,” she said in frustration as she looked over a slide show of potential candidates.

“The thing that kills me,” Jessica added, “is that he comes across as totally into them. If you listen to
the women talk about the time they spent with him, you'd have no doubt that we'd done our job.”

“Exactly. Until we talk to Rafe.” Veronica shook her head.

Melanie listened without comment. It was a game to him. He'd said as much that night weeks ago at the Embassy. It was a challenge, something for him to do. She hadn't told Veronica or Jessica that he'd been to the house or what he'd said. It was probably all part of his game.

“For the time being let's not subject any more women to Mr. Lawson's endless charms,” Melanie said. “We'll restrategize after the party. The next few days are going to be crazy and I don't want us to be distracted with Rafe's foolishness.”

“And what's the story with Claude Montgomery?” Jessica asked. “I would have thought that he and Grace would have really hit it off.”

Melanie ran her teeth across her bottom lip. “He had a change of heart.” She shrugged. “It happens.”

“But we promised Dad,” Veronica said. “Maybe we should try again. I know there are—”

“Forget it!”

Two pairs of eyes landed on Melanie.

“Just forget it,” she said with more calm.

“What's wrong, Aunt Mel?” Veronica asked. “You've been out of it for a while now. What's going on?”

“Nothing. I'm trying to focus on this party,
that's all. I have a lot on my mind. And if we have troublesome clients that we can't seem to satisfy, I say the hell with them.” She pushed back from the table and stood, then walked out of the room, leaving her nieces with their eyes wide and their mouths open.

 

Melanie closed the door to her bedroom. She hadn't heard a word from Claude since she'd returned his money. She hadn't told the team that she'd even given it back. That would lead to questions of why and she wasn't ready to answer them. But she had heard from Rafe. Often. When he would call, the conversation would start off as business, generally a follow-up to a date and before long he would have her engaged in conversation about a movie that she must see, or a book he'd read, places they'd both traveled, music, politics, religion. Rafe Lawson was well-versed on many subjects, which is why she could see how the women he dated were totally captivated by him—in addition to which, he made you feel that listening to you was the most important thing he could do.

When she talked to him she had to keep her wits about her and not be sucked in by his southern charm, and, she had to admit, it wasn't always easy, especially if the call came late in the evening and she'd been thinking about Claude, who she'd catch glimpses of on the news from time to time among the cadre of politicos flanking the senator.

But it was getting a little easier. The sting wasn't as bad and she didn't beat herself up as regularly as she once did. Good signs, she consoled herself.

But today, for some reason, she'd lost it. She'd blown up at her nieces for no good reason, at least not one that she could explain to them, which was the fact that the party was in two days. They'd have a house full of guests. And she had no idea if Claude would be among them.

 

On the morning of the party the house was buzzing with activity and delivery trunks were in a waiting line to get to the front door. Party planners were busy in all of the rooms, draping, moving furniture, adding centerpieces and floral arrangements among other things. Coat racks were delivered and new linen had arrived for the tables along with extra tables, chairs, dinnerware and glasses. The catering trucks were unloading most of the morning and were finally setting up to begin preparing the food. The wait staff arrived at noon and were met by the head chef and the six bartenders. Vincent met with the head valet and attendant and gave instructions on where the cars should be parked. Spotlights had been set up on the lawn. A professional cleaning crew had been brought in to clean the house from roof to basement and would return for the big cleanup the morning after the party.

The guest list had been rounded out to one hundred
and fifty and all of them planned on attending. It was going to be a big, loud night. The two bands were scheduled to arrive soon so that they could set up and do sound checks.

Once all the players were in place, Melanie and the girls slipped out and let the party coordinator deal with all the details while they went to get their hair, nails and toes done.

 

“Ahhh,” Veronica moaned in pleasure as hot sudsy water swirled around her submerged feet. She wiggled her toes.

“We've been doing this for years,” Jessica said as she held her hand out to the manicurist. “You would think we'd be used to the craziness by now.”

“I know, but it never seems to get easier. There are a zillion details even with a coordinator.”

“Hey, Aunt Mel.” Veronica peeked her head around her cousin. Melanie was seated in the next chair with her head back and her eyes closed.

“Hmm?”

“I was just thinking that with all this technology at our fingertips, we should move into the twenty-first century and have a virtual party.”

Melanie opened her eyes and peered at her niece. “What?”

“You know, everyone could party from the comfort of their Web cam.” She laughed at the novelty of the idea. “It would sure cut down on the craziness.”

Melanie slowly shook her head. “That's what's wrong with you young people now. You've lost the art of conversation and socializing in the real world. Everyone is connected by a gadget, an email address or some social network that really only exists in cyberspace, wherever that is. The art of really getting to know people is being lost. I can pretend to be anyone I want behind a screen or some name I make up for my email address,” she snapped, her tone growing testy. “But at some point you have to come out from behind all the façades and actually meet people face to face, write a real letter, without texting and deal with a person.”

Her nieces looked at her for a moment, then they both laughed. “Aunt Mel, you are too funny. You're getting old.”

She grumbled deep in her throat, then returned to her mini nap while her feet were being massaged. Of course technology had its place, she thought, drifting along on a cloud of relaxation. But it couldn't take the place of real communication. Sitting behind some computer screen, the person on the other end can't see your sincerity and you can't see theirs. They can't tell if you are lying, hurt, crying or even paying them any attention. You can be whoever you chose to be for the moment.

Just as she hid behind her screen and read Claude's
email that he'd sent to her personal BlackBerry early that morning.

 

Sry. won't b abl 2 attend. njoy ur party. sry 2 miss it. Regards 2 all. CM.

 

And that was it. He couldn't see the hurt in her eyes and she didn't have to pretend that it wasn't there.

 

By the time they returned to the house the decorators had turned the mansion into a virtual wonderland of lighting, drapery that hung from the ceiling encrusted with tiny crystals that made it shimmer and, incredibly, an ice sculpture in the center of the entryway. Beyond was the magnificence of the ocean, captured in the glow of the setting sun. The lights from the votives that had been placed throughout the space gave the entire atmosphere an elegant feel.

Mouthwatering aromas floated from the kitchen and the long linen-topped tables were ready for the platters of food that would fill them shortly. It was enough to take one's breath away.

The staff who had been hired for the festivities had all changed into their uniforms and were hurrying about to ensure that everything was taken care of.

The guests were scheduled to arrive in about two hours. The ladies went to their rooms to start getting
ready. Melanie firmly believed that the hostess must be ready to greet the very first guest no matter how early they arrived. It was a credo that her grandmother had instilled in her, so she kept her eye on the clock as she bathed and dressed.

Although her preference was the short cocktail dress, for tonight's occasion she'd chosen a floor-length deep chocolate brown Vera Wang dress, strapless with a fitted bodice, jeweled across the top, fitted at the waist and tapered down to the hem just above her feet. A simple diamond necklace and matching earrings were her accessories. She wore her short hair cut away from her face, accenting her features with minimal makeup, which illuminated her near flawless complexion. Her sling-backed shoes were a perfect match for her dress. She added her favorite scent behind her ears and at her delicate wrists.

Within an hour she was ready and went to do a final check of every detail with the coordinator. Nothing was left to chance.

At precisely 7:00 p.m. the first guests began to arrive and the party started in earnest. Each time the bell rang, Melanie's stomach jumped. Even though Claude clearly said that he wouldn't be attending, she kept hoping that he would change his mind. Rafe was certainly in the house and charming every woman who came within proximity. It was quite amazing
to watch. Several of the women he'd dated through the service were also in attendance and vying for his attention in one way or the other. It was like watching a real-life version of
The Bachelor.

Melanie moved among her guests, hugging and kissing cheeks, dropping a bit of news here, picking up gossip there. From what she could tell everyone was having a great time and the staff didn't miss a beat. Not a glass was empty, not a dish out of place. The band knew when to pick up the beat and when to slow it down. The caterers kept the food coming and the bar was busy. However, she was very clear with the valets. No one was to get behind the wheel of a car if they even appeared to have had one drink too many.

Cynthia, who always stood in as a co-hostess, was totally engaged in conversation with a couple who'd met through The Society and were interested in buying art for the house they'd purchased after their wedding a year earlier.

They were moving into the third hour of the night when Veronica came up to Melanie. “Aunt Mel, have you heard from Dad? I thought he would have been here by now.”

Melanie checked her watch. She frowned. “I thought so, too. He said he might be late but I didn't think he meant this late. Has he called?”

Veronica shook her head.

“I'll see if I can reach him.” She hurried off to her office and closed the door. She went to her desk and dialed her brother's cell phone. It rang and rang until it went to voicemail. She left a message and hung up. A sense of unease moved through her, taking up residence in the center of her chest. She jumped at the sound of the ringing phone. It was her private line. It must be Alan calling to explain himself.

She snatched up the phone. “Where are you?”

“Melanie? It's me, Claude.”

The heat of fear ran through her. It was in his voice. She gripped the phone. “Claude, I…I thought it was Alan calling me back. I'm sorry. He's late as usual. And I'm going to tell him about himself when he gets here. Everyone has been asking for him.” Her thighs were trembling, but she knew she had to keep talking to keep Claude from saying whatever it was he called to say.

“Melanie. I'm sorry to be the one to call you. But I didn't want it to be anyone else.”

She slid down into the chair because the air had stopped moving in and out of her lungs. She couldn't breathe. “What is it?”

“Alan had a heart attack. He was driving when it happened. He was flown to Georgetown University Hospital. I'm sending a car for you to bring you to the airport. It should be there in twenty minutes.” He paused. “It's serious.”

“Oh God, oh God.” Not her brother. Not Alan. She couldn't think.

“Listen to me. When you hang up, go and tell the kids. Pack a bag and be sure you have ID.”

Tears were streaming down her face.

“Mel. Are you listening to me?”

“Y-es.”

“Good. I'll be here when you arrive. Someone from the State Department will meet you when you land in Washington.”