Some Enchanted Season (32 page)

Finally Ross broke his silence. “No, she never did work in the business. But she waited tables, cleaned motel rooms, clerked in a convenience store, and emptied bedpans in a nursing home to put me through school, to get me started.”

“And you paid for her to finish her degree. You’re even now.”

Ross’s smile was thin and empty of humor. “No. We’ll never be even. But you’re right. I have been reconsidering. I’m not sure—”

A creak in the hallway was followed by the closing of the front door. Ross looked toward the hall, and Tom followed his gaze. A moment later Maggie appeared in the doorway. She wore only a sweater against the day’s chill, and her hair was windblown, her cheeks pink. Her arms were filled with two large platters. In spite of the red and green plastic wrap that covered them, he smelled chocolate.

“Hey, Ross—” Whatever she’d been about to say was forgotten when she saw Tom. Her smile disappeared and her behavior became a shade more subdued. “Hello, Tom.”

“Maggie.”

She looked good. Strong. The fragile air she’d had for so many months was gone, along with the hesitance
and unsureness. This was a Maggie he’d never really known—the Maggie when he’d first gone to work for Ross. The happy one. Though she wasn’t his type at all, he found himself noticing that she was beautiful. Vibrantly, passionately beautiful, in ways that the women in his life could never match. For the first time, he understood why Ross had stuck around so long.

Then he looked at his boss, who was looking at his wife, and felt the first hint of concern.
I have been reconsidering
, he’d said before she interrupted them. Tom had thought he’d meant the divorce settlement. Now he knew he’d meant the divorce. He was thinking about staying with Maggie.

The idea didn’t sit well with Tom. It wasn’t that he had anything against her, but he recognized a bad marriage when he saw one. For years they’d done nothing but fight. Ross had nothing to give a marriage, and Maggie had had nothing to give him.

But it looked as if that had changed.

She came farther into the room, setting the plates on the desk. “I just came over to get some pans and parchment paper.” To Tom, she explained, “We’re making candy at the neighbors’. Would you like some?”

“No, thanks.” Tom had few weaknesses. Cool, elegant blondes were one. Fine liquor was another. Chocolate didn’t make the list.

She gave Ross a look that plainly said she wished they were alone, then picked up one plate. “I’ll put these in the kitchen, then I’d better get back. Nice seeing you, Tom.”

She wasn’t even out the door, when Ross excused himself. Too wired to sit still, Tom paced to the nearest
wall, examined the titles that filled the bookcases there, then was turning toward the back wall, when a sound from down the hall drew him closer to the door. Ross and Maggie were standing just the other side of the doorway into the kitchen, talking quietly, and he was combing his fingers through her hair, undoing the disorder the wind had brought.

It should have been a meaningless gesture—hell, Tom had done the same thing on occasion with one woman or another, and it’d been careless, thoughtless—but this wasn’t. Maybe it was the way they were standing so close, or the way they were looking at each other. Maybe it was the way she touched his jaw, then squeezed his fingers. Whatever the explanation, there was absolutely nothing meaningless about the scene.

Feeling uncomfortable for spying, Tom returned to his chair. When Ross had told him that he was going to Bethlehem to live for two or three months, Tom had thought he was crazy. He’d thought he would never last two months away from the office. He’d been positive Ross would never survive two months alone with Maggie.

It seemed he’d been wrong.

A moment later Maggie left and Ross returned to the office with two cups of coffee.

“You mentioned you’ve been rethinking the settlement offer,” Tom said.

Ross swiveled his chair around to stare out the window, and Tom knew without looking that he was watching Maggie, knew when he turned back that she’d disappeared inside the neighbor’s house. “No,” he said flatly. “I’ve been rethinking the divorce.”

Damn. Tom hated to be wrong, but this was one time when he wouldn’t have minded. “So Maggie’s agreed to move back to Buffalo.”

“No. I wouldn’t ask that of her.”

“Why not? You’re the only one with a job, and that job is in Buffalo.”

“The office is in Buffalo. The job is wherever I want to do it.”

“So you’re considering staying here.” Tom gave a cynical shake of his head. “That must make Maggie happy.”

“I haven’t discussed it with her yet.” Ross briefly toyed with a pen on his blotter. “When Dr. Allen asked me to come here, it never occurred to me that we might get along just fine. I mean, our marriage was ended. It was all over but the formalities. She was ready to be free of me, and I was ready for …” He faltered, lowered his voice. “For life without her.”

He
was
ready—implying that he wasn’t anymore, Tom thought. Cold feet? He knew from eleven years of business deals that Ross didn’t suffer from last-minute doubts. More likely a reassessment of the situation. With the knowledge that the divorce they’d both wanted was just a few short weeks away, there’d been no pressure. They could both relax, put the past behind them, and just be themselves. Take away the hostility, the resentment, and the anger, and they were left with the people they really were—the people who had fallen in love all those years ago.

It was a nice trick—but it didn’t satisfy the cynic within. “You think it’ll last this time?”

Ross didn’t answer.

“You tried this deal before, and it fell apart. You ended up miserable and hating each other.”

“I never hated her. I just lost sight of what was important. I got too ambitious. Too greedy.”

“You’re still ambitious. You’re still driven.” But even as he said it, Tom knew it was no longer true—at least, not to the degree it’d been before. For eleven years he’d watched his boss put in hundred-hour weeks, year in and year out, and thrive on it. Business had been the sole purpose of Ross’s existence, taking precedence over everything else, including his wife and their marriage.

Since coming to Bethlehem, he’d worked only a fraction of his usual hours. He’d forgotten deadlines and details. He returned phone calls when he thought about it, if at all, and ignored e-mails and faxes. Even when Tom or Lynda was able to get him on the phone, he sounded distracted or was impatient to get off and on to something else.

“I’ve worked so hard for so long that I’d forgotten what it was like to have a life,” Ross said quietly, his expression distant, almost as if talking to himself. “In Buffalo it seemed normal. Everyone I knew worked hard. But here … People spend time with their kids. They go ice skating with friends. They build parade floats and take wagon rides and go to church and visit with their neighbors. They have families. They have fun.”

And Ross had never had much of either. Tom knew, because he’d grown up the same way—maybe even a little poorer in both aspects. They’d both busted their butts to get through college. They’d dedicated a hundred
and fifty percent to making something of themselves, to becoming someone no one would dare look down on or scoff at. They’d craved power and respect and the wealth that supplied them, and they’d worked damn hard to get enough, but their ambition had blinded them to exactly how much was enough. Tom had more money than he’d even dreamed existed twenty years ago, but he still didn’t have enough.

Maybe, finally, Ross did.

“You said you haven’t discussed staying here with Maggie. Why not?”

“She wants a divorce. She’s got big plans for her future.”

Maybe she’d had big plans when she came to Bethlehem. Maybe she still did. But it wasn’t likely they included divorcing Ross. Tom had seen the way she’d looked at him in the kitchen, the way she’d touched him. He was no expert on relationships, but he knew those serious marriage-and-forever kind of looks. He’d faced more than a few of them himself, but he’d always escaped intact.

It didn’t look as if Ross was going to.

“Did she tell you this?” he asked.

“When we first came here.”

Tom made a dismissive gesture. “That was a preliminary opinion. Maybe she’s changed her mind since then. You did.” When Ross’s expression remained bleak, unconvinced, Tom suggested, “Ask her. Tell her how you feel. Find out how she feels.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“She still doesn’t remember what happened the
night of the accident. When she does—” Breaking off, he shook his head.

No one knew what happened that night except Ross. All he’d told the sheriff was that they’d argued. All he’d told Tom during the endless hours of Maggie’s lifesaving surgery was that she’d left him, and all Tom had learned—guessed, really—since then was that the bracelet he’d given Father Pat was somehow involved. “Is whatever you did so unforgivable?”

“Yes.” The answer was quick, decisive, impossible to argue. “When she remembers …”

“
If
she remembers. The doctors don’t know that she ever will. You could live the rest of your lives without it happening.”

“I can’t take that risk. I can’t lose her again.”

“If you don’t take the risk, you lose anyway.”

Silence settled between them, heavy, oppressive. After a time, Ross broke it. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the sort of counsel you’re used to giving.”

That was an understatement. The only advice regarding women that anyone wanted from Tom was how to seduce them, then walk away untouched. That was his specialty. But how to stay … That wasn’t in his experience, and he doubted that it ever would be.

“It’s no problem. I’d better head back to the city.” Tom pulled on his overcoat, picked up his briefcase, then walked with Ross to the door. “I won’t do anything yet,” he said in reference to the divorce.

Ross agreed. “There’s no hurry. I’ve still got a month or two here.”

And in a month or two he could accomplish damn
near anything, Tom thought as he said good-bye, then left the house.

He might even save his marriage.

A
fter lunch Wednesday, Maggie watched Ross load dishes in the dishwasher. It was such a menial task for a man like him, but he didn’t mind and he did it as efficiently as she ever had.

Turning, he caught her watching and gave her an easy smile. “What are you looking at?”

“You. You used to work such long hours that I’d forget what you looked like.”

“Really,” he said dryly as he approached.

“No. I never forgot.” She took him willingly into her embrace—brushed her fingers along his jaw, rubbed them across the fine fabric of his shirt. With his black hair and sharp blue eyes, he looked incredibly dashing in the white shirt, open at the collar, sleeves rolled back. He looked even better out of it. “I just missed you so much.”

“I’m here now.”

It was true. Since their cookie baking late Saturday night, he’d spent more time with her than apart. Only the most urgent business took his attention away from her, and never for long. They’d made love, gone out for dinner, shopped, taken leisurely walks, and she’d been thankful for every moment.

She wondered how long it would last.

And how would she bear it when it ended.

“Maggie?”

Blinking back the moisture in her eyes, she focused on him and smiled.

“Where did you go just now?”

“Why would I go anywhere when I’m in your arms?” Right where she wanted to be. Today, tomorrow, always. Before he could press for an answer, she patted his arm. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go where? To work? Not today. To bed? Of course. To—”

“To buy a present for Shelley Walker’s baby.” Mitch had brought his wife and daughter home from the hospital only two days after the big event, and tonight their friends had been invited over to meet young Rebecca. Maggie was both looking forward to it and dreading it. It was hard to be happy and so envious at the same time.

“If you insist, though I’d rather go to bed.”

“Of course you would. Heavens, you act as if you’d gone without sex for a year.”

“And a few months. And this has nothing to do with that.”

“Then what does it have to do with?”

He touched her cheek. “You.”

A lump formed in her throat to match the one in her chest. Sometimes when he looked at her like that, when he touched her like that, she thought she surely must have a forever sort of place in his life, and the idea both touched her and scared her senseless. Could she risk believing in forever with Ross again? Could she let herself be tempted by the notion of love and reconciliation and commitment, when he’d never actually spoken of those things? When the divorce they’d agreed
on still loomed ahead? When he’d never even hinted that he might no longer want it?

Doing so could break her heart.

Or heal it.

Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re a very sweet man, Ross.”

He tried not very successfully to scoff. “Ask anyone I’ve ever done business with. I’m the toughest son of a bitch around. Powerful men tremble when I walk through the door.”

“So do I.” She kissed him again. “And it’s so very sweet.” He pressed closer and she could feel the beginnings of his arousal. With a laugh she wriggled away and headed for the closet. “Later, darlin’. Right now I need a gift for Shelley.”

The boutique recommended by the Winchester sisters was unremarkable on the outside. Inside was a child’s paradise, with bright colors, thickly padded carpet, play areas, and a wide assortment of everything a kid could possibly need. Maggie glanced over an array of cribs and cradles, car seats and high chairs, and felt a pang deep in her heart. She wished she were shopping for herself, for her own sweet little baby. He would have his father’s black hair and blue eyes, or maybe she would look more like her mother and she would wrap her daddy around her little—

“Can I help you?”

Maggie turned to the woman who’d spoken. They’d met while skating Saturday night. The blonde had been with Dean Elliott, though they were just friends, she’d insisted. Holly and the others had teased her, but Maggie had thought she told the truth. She
and Dean hadn’t looked at each other the way lovers, or prospective lovers, should. No, she’d saved those looks for Holly’s date, who’d never noticed.