The distinguished-looking older man cleared his throat. “You may wonder why we chose this particular evening for our dinner.”
He glanced at his impressive wristwatch. “Those of you who have been counting will now realize it has just struck midnight and the dog known as Brutus has survived the twenty-one days specified in the will of the late Walter Stoddard.”
Yes, Brutus was alive and well and snoring in Nora Green’s apartment—she’d called to check on her cell phone only an hour ago. But why did that warrant enthusiastic applause from the table of Jackson, Jones, and Gentry senior partners and their wives? Politely Maddy clapped, too, without being sure why she was doing so.
Then the table quieted as Clive continued. “I think we can assume the very substantial bonus agreed on by Mr. Stoddard for Tom—and thence to our firm—on condition of the dog living the specified time will be coming our way. Well done, Tom. You’ve handled this case superbly.”
Frozen to her seat, Maddy felt the blood drain from her face. Clive Gentry’s voice seemed to come and go in waves. A bonus to Tom? What bonus?
Vanessa Kent nudged her into lifting her glass when Clive asked everyone to toast Tom’s success. Champagne glass in hand, Maddy stared over the table at Tom, scarcely registering that he looked as pale as she felt.
Frantically she searched back in her memory. Tom had never mentioned he was due a bonus if Brutus survived twenty-one days. She was positive of it.
Maddy swallowed hard against the nausea that rose in her throat. The whole thing had been a fraud. His concern for Brutus. His concern for her. Working together to thwart Jerome. The court hearing. All along it had been about Tom O’Brien’s interests and ambitions.
Dollars were evidently what counted in a law firm like this and no one could have been as motivated as Tom in his quest for partnership. He was a complete and utter phony. And she a total fool for having been taken in by him. How could she ever have let herself trust such a handsome man?
She clenched her hand so tightly around the stem of her glass she was in danger of snapping it. What felt worse—the humiliation or the hurt?
She cringed at the memory of how naïve she’d been. Insisting on cooking for him in return for his giving her and Brutus sanctuary. Admiring his honesty and sincerity. But worst, worst, worst of all—being stupid enough to fall in love with him.
Feeling as though she was moving in slow motion, she drained the glass of champagne and placed it back down on the table. Through her shock and anger she noted Tom trying to push his way toward her through the throng of people con gratulating him.
Pointedly, she turned her back to him and forced herself to smile and make small talk to one of the partners about his wine collection. She couldn’t trust herself not to make a scene if she had to confront Tom just then.
But she couldn’t hide from Tom for long. As the party rapidly wound down she forced herself to make polite good-byes to everyone, to accept their wishes that they might meet with her again. Until at last she found herself alone with Tom.
At the end of the table in the by-now-emptying restaurant she faced him. “Why didn’t you tell me about that bonus?” she said, her hands tightly gripping the strap of her evening purse.
Tom looked rather like Brutus when the little dog had done something wrong and knew he’d been caught. But Tom was too much the alpha male to cower in a corner.
He shrugged and gestured with his hands. “Maddy, I’m sorry, I just didn’t get a chance to mention it.” He paused. “But from that look you’re giving me, I don’t suppose you’ll believe me.”
It was an effort but, conscious of the waiters clearing up around them, Maddy kept her voice low and steady. “You’re right. I don’t believe you. A huge bonus for keeping Brutus alive isn’t something that would easily slip your mind.”
“When we first met, it wasn’t appropriate to tell you about the bonus and then—”
“Not appropriate? How can you say that?” She could feel a hot flush burning up her neck.
“I was Walter’s lawyer. You were . . . well, you were an unknown quantity. I didn’t need to disclose to you the details of my fee structure with my client.”
She swallowed the hurt that rose in her throat. “Because you thought I was a gold digger on the make.”
“Maddy, that isn’t fair.You know I—”
“Fair? What was fair about letting me think you were looking out for Brutus and me out of . . . out of the goodness of your heart? Not for a big, fat bonus that would help you make partner.” Her voice rose higher with every word.
He winced. “Maddy, the bonus had nothing to do with it.”
“So you deny you never thought about your bonus when you told me stop feeding Brutus cupcakes?”
“Yes, of course I considered it.”
“And what about when . . . when . . . we became . . . close?”
“The bonus was the last thing on my mind. Maddy, I—”
“Huh!” she said loudly. Then, aware of a waiter hovering nearby, she said more quietly, “I wish I could believe you . . .”
Tom didn’t seem to notice the waiter slowly picking up cutlery piece by piece so he could listen in on every word. “Maddy, I honestly intended to tell you about the bonus. Especially when the press started questioning our relationship. But then Jerome became such a threat. When he contested the will, it became a race to prepare for the hearing. I didn’t give the bonus another thought.”
Maddy glared at the waiter, who by now had stopped making any attempt at clearing the table. Then she shifted her glare to Tom. “And you expect me to believe that?”
Tom’s eyes blazed. “Yes, I do. I didn’t want to see Brutus or you in danger. Protecting you two became my only motivation.”
Tears began to smart her eyes. She blinked down hard on them. “How can you say that when by lying, all you did was hurt me?”
Tom went to touch her arm but Maddy quickly stepped back from him. He glared at her. “I never lied to you, Maddy. I made a mistake. Okay?”
“Well, it was a darn big mistake.”
Now Tom was back in full grim mode. “Yes, it was. And I’ve said I’m sorry. How many times do you want me to say it?”
The waiter by this stage was making no attempt to hide the fact he was eavesdropping. Maddy glared at him again.
To her astonishment the man put down the water jug he was holding and joined in. “He sounds sorry to me. Why don’t you give him a break?”
Maddy stared incredulously at the nosy waiter. “You can stay out of this.” Behavior like this would never be tolerated in any restaurant where she was chef.
“Sure. But I think you should kiss and make up.”
Maddy felt like whacking the waiter over the head with her purse. “This is none of your business. I know the chef here. I’m going to complain about you.”
The waiter shrugged, then stacked plates one on top of the other. He grinned. “Report me. He’s my boyfriend.” He winked at Tom as, balancing a handful of plates, he sauntered off.
Then he called over his shoulder. “By the way, Brutus is a terrible name for a kid.Why didn’t you call him Bruce?”
Maddy felt her face blazing. Now she understood what it meant for someone to say her blood was boiling.
She turned back from the waiter to find Tom fighting a battle to suppress laughter, his face contorted with the effort, his shoulders shaking.
“You! You think that’s funny?”
Tom struggled to keep a still face. “Of course not. I . . . uh. Terrible guy. Impertinent. Should be fired immediately. I, uh . . .” He lost the struggle and started to laugh, his dimple out in full force.
“You’re laughing at me!”
“No. No. I’m not. Really. It’s the waiter. The Brutus-Bruce thing. Maddy, come back!”
Maddy stalked as fast as three-inch heels would let her away from the table and out of the restaurant. A salty breeze from the water cooled her face but did nothing to cool her temper.
Tom caught up with her at the end of the pier, took her arm. Furious, she shook it off. “Maddy,” he said.
“Don’t you ‘Maddy’ me,” she spat. “You lie to me, you make a fool of me in front of your colleagues—you should have seen the pity in Vanessa Kent’s eyes when she realized I didn’t know about the bonus—and then you take sides against me with a waiter, a waiter whose boyfriend, by the way, is an old rival of mine and who’ll make sure everyone in the Bay Area hears about this.”
Completely out of breath, she paused. Her heart was pounding so loudly she felt it would burst from her chest.
Tom didn’t look at all like he was laughing now. “Maddy, you’re blowing this all out of proportion. Let’s go home and—”
“Home? Did you say home? Back to your apartment where you’ve kept me—and Brutus—prisoner to ensure that you get to cash in on the millionaire mutt? Is that what Clive Gentry meant by the ‘superb job’ you’ve done? Is that what . . . ?”
Her words petered out at the look on Tom’s face. Shock? Hurt? Disillusionment? Whatever it was she didn’t like it. And she knew she’d caused it.
“If that’s what you think, Maddy, there doesn’t appear to be much I can do to change your mind.” Tom was as grim-faced as at their first meeting, his eyes impenetrable, his mouth a rigid line.
He strode ahead of her toward the taxi rank. In her high heels Maddy had a struggle to keep up with him.
“Tom, wait up,” she called.
He stopped just long enough for her to draw up alongside him, then he continued to walk, more slowly this time. And in silence. Huh! So he wasn’t talking to her now? Proof of his guilt.
Her footsteps dragged as they neared the line of taxis. Maddy knew without Tom having to say a word that he’d be back on the sofa tonight.
She took in a great gulp of fresh, midnight air. Maybe that was for the best.
For all his apologies for neglecting to tell her about the bonus, Tom hadn’t broached the subject of what lay beyond the twenty-one days other than a nebulous reference to “us.”
After all, she wasn’t written into his famous five-year plan. Even though she and Brutus had—inadvertently—helped him get to his goal of partnership. She’d been forced into Tom’s life for the time specified by Walter’s will. And now that time had expired.
In silence she waited beside Tom behind another couple waiting for a taxi. There was no one behind them. When the next available taxi drew up in front of them, she stepped away from Tom.
“Tom, I’m going to take this taxi home to my apartment. By myself.”
A tightening of his mouth was Tom’s only reaction. “That surprises me. But if you think it’s a good idea.”
“I do,” she said, wishing he’d tell her it wasn’t. But he didn’t.
“Jerome is locked up so you don’t have to worry about him,” he said. “But take care, won’t you?”
She nodded. “I will. I’ll . . . uh . . . drop around tomorrow to pick up Brutus and my things.”
“It might be easier if I brought him to you.” He didn’t look anywhere near her eyes as he spoke.
“Whatever.”
“Fine,” he said.
She slid into the taxi. Wasn’t he even going to try to stop her? She gave the taxi driver her address.
Tom raked his fingers through his hair until it stood up on end. He leaned down toward the car door. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow sometime,” he said.
“Great,” she said.
“Great,” he said.
She banged the door shut, wounded beyond belief that he hadn’t even kissed her good-bye.
As if she would have let him.
Twenty-five
Very early the next morning, Maddy indulged her misery in the best way she knew—by baking. The tray of peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies, salted with her tears, was in the oven. She was beating her hurt and anger into the batter for a coconut and lime syrup cake when she heard a knock on her door.
Tom!
Surely not this early? But who else knew she was back home? At the thought of facing him after the dreadful scene last night, her heart started a furious pounding.
Her hands went automatically to smooth her hair. She must look awful after a night spent alternating between sobbing into her pillow and pounding it in pain and frustration.
Was Tom a calculating, self-serving phony or a warmhearted, genuine guy who had tried to stay on top of an impossible situation? Had he lied about the bonus or had he genuinely overlooked it? Oh, why hadn’t she listened to him last night instead of going overboard on wounded pride? She felt like running home to her grandma. But her home was in San Francisco now, no matter what. And, besides, she wasn’t too sure her grandma would be on her side.
At dawn she’d given her pillow a particularly hard whack at the thought of the interfering—but quite possibly well-meaning—waiter and then gotten out of bed and started to bake.
How would she handle this? Cool and composed? Yes. She liked cool and composed.
“Good morning, Tom,” she would say, not even giving him a hint of how upset she was. “How nice of you to bring Brutus home.”
Then she would suggest they sit down and discuss like civilized adults what had happened between them last night.
Forget reckless, remember cool and composed, she told herself before she opened the door. To find a basket-load of puppies thrust at her by an agitated woman dressed all in black.
She didn’t recognize Mrs. Porter until she spoke. “Here, take them, they’re yours.”
The dog breeder looked so different. Her curly hair was cut short and straightened in a spiky, butch style. Dirty yellow streaks swept back from her ears. She wore tight leather pants and a leather top, with a heavy, spiked black collar around her neck. Matching leather bands encircled her wrists. It even seemed like her slim frame had bulked up.
“Thank heaven you’re home at last,” she said. “This is the third time I’ve stopped by.”
Bewildered, Maddy clutched the basket of wriggling, heaving puppies to her. Little paws reached up to scrabble at her chest and pink tongues to lick at her arms. “Mrs. Porter, I don’t—”