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A Little Secret between Friends
C.J. Carmichael
It's amazing how one decision could change your lifeBack in law school Sally Stowe and Colin Foster argued in and out of class. One night, after a study session in the library, Colin offered to drive Sally home. They ended up in his dorm room making love. The next day Sally discovered that her best friend, Beth, was really into this guy in Sally's class–Colin. Sally stepped aside and started seeing someone new.Sixteen years later Sally is a distinguished lawyer, up for a judicial appointment, and Colin is Beth's widower. As Sally and Colin spend more and more time together, a horrible suspicion takes hold. Could Sally's daughter be Colin's?
Sally’s first instinct was to drive away
But Colin was already walking toward her car. He had on jeans and an old—a very old—University of Alberta sweatshirt. She’d probably seen him in that sweatshirt a hundred times.
Including, if memory served her correctly, that one, fateful night over sixteen years ago…
When Colin was close enough to touch her car, she lowered the passenger-side window.
For a moment they just looked at each other, and in his eyes she recognized the sorrow that she’d been feeling.
She also saw that he was concerned about her. But there was something else she couldn’t name. It was like a spark, alive and glowing. And it reminded her that despite how she felt at times, she was a woman with half her life still in front of her.
Dear Reader,
A difficult moral dilemma is at the heart of many stories I write. This story is no different.
Imagine you are a student in your last year of university. There’s this guy who has been in many of your classes…and something about him really gets to you. He’s good-looking, charming and way too smart for his own good. You keep wanting to show him up. Then one night you’re at the library late at night together and he offers you a ride home. Sparks fly, and before you know it, this guy you thought you couldn’t stand is someone you just can’t resist.
The next morning you check in with your roommate and best friend. Before you can tell her what happened last night, she tells you about this guy she really likes—and it’s your guy!
Do you tell her to back off? Or do you leave the field clear for your friend?
In the story you're about to read, Sally Stowe faced just this situation. Sally decided to date someone else and leave the guy for her friend…and the repercussions of that decision still live with her—and her daughter—sixteen years later.
I hope you enjoy this story. If you would like to write or send e-mail, I would be delighted to hear from you through my Web site at www.cjcarmichael.com. Or send mail to the following Canadian address: #1754-246 Stewart Green S.W., Calgary, Alberta, T3H 3C8, Canada.
Sincerely,
C.J. Carmichael
A Little Secret Between Friends
C.J. Carmichael
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For sharing her knowledge of family law
and the challenges of juggling a career with motherhood,
I thank Sandra J. Hildebrand, barrister and solicitor.
Thanks also to Joe Nolan, retired RCMP officer,
and Terry Evenson, Executive Director of the Canadian
Bar Association of Alberta (and also a lovely aunt!).
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER ONE
“BE CAREFUL with that knife, Sal. You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”
Sally Stowe froze. The unexpected sound of her ex-husband’s voice had a similar effect to a steel blade running lightly down her spine.
Keeping her back to him, she resumed chopping the red pepper with precise, measured slices. She took a beat to catch her breath, then said coolly, “We have this custom in North America, Neil. It’s called knocking before you enter a home that isn’t your own.”
Though her exterior was unruffled—she hoped!—her mind raced. Why was Neil here? He knew Lara was on a birthday sleepover party tonight. Sally had learned long ago to get his permission for every single thing Lara did. If she so much as booked a dentist appointment without his approval, Neil would turn ballistic.
“The door was unlocked.”
As if that were an excuse. Still, it was a good reminder to be more careful. Sally crouched to reassure the six-month-old puppy whining anxiously at her feet—the cause of the unlocked door. He needed to go out so often she’d become lazy with the dead bolt, which would only engage if you aligned the door just shy of fully closed.
“It’s okay, Armani.” She gave the mutt a scratch behind his ears, then patted him on the side gently.
Strangers—and Neil—made the poor thing nervous.
In his most scornful voice, Neil said, “Armani? Who calls a dog after a fashion designer, for God’s sake?”
Still avoiding eye contact with him, Sally did her best to answer calmly. “Your daughter.” And he, of all people, ought to know why. He was the one who had fostered Lara’s taste for expensive, designer clothing—although even Neil drew the line at Armani, fortunately.
“Well, the dog’s black, at least.”
Yes. And with the patch of white on his chest, he looked a little like he was wearing a tux. But Sally didn’t share that piece of trivia with Neil. She shared nothing with her ex-husband that wasn’t required in their joint-custody agreement.
An agreement that she, as a lawyer, understood inside and out. Neil, also a lawyer, knew the agreement equally well, since he had drafted it.
As Sally went to the sink to rinse her hands, she glanced out the window at the thawing April landscape. The grass was still brown, but there would be pussy willows soon. Chunks of ice were breaking up in the river that bordered the western edge of her property.
She’d moved here, to the Elbow Valley community on the outskirts of Calgary, two years ago when Lara had turned fourteen. Sally was determined to keep her young teenager away from the influences of shopping malls, corner stores and video arcades, where Sally knew trouble could be found as easily as a super-size Slurpee.
Their stone-faced bungalow was one of the smaller homes in the estate neighborhood, but it sat on a full acre of land, backing onto the Elbow River. Sally reveled in the fact that they weren’t even considered part of the city of Calgary, though she was only a twenty-five minute commute from the office.
The country setting was perfect, but the isolation did make her nervous at times, which was why she’d finally given in to Lara’s desire for a dog. Hopefully one day Armani would develop some guarding instincts. The woman at the animal shelter had been sure he was mostly border collie, a breed known to be both protective and gentle with children.
Sally turned off the water and moved to the stove, situated on the island at the center of the kitchen. She unhooked the wok from the overhead rack and settled it on the front burner. After twisting the knob to high heat, she finally lifted her head to acknowledge Neil’s presence.
Her ex-husband still stood near the door. The family room lay to his left, the kitchen to the right. “Are you going to invite me in, Sal? Looks like you have enough food for two.”
He was right about the food. Out of habit she’d prepared enough for Lara, as well, even though her daughter was out. But if she had food for twenty, she’d never invite Neil to her table.
“What do you want? Did you forget Lara is sleeping over at Jessica’s tonight?”
“Can’t a man stop by for a friendly visit with his ex-wife?” Neil smiled, managing to look boyishly attractive, even though, like her, he’d passed forty.
He was a debonair man, her ex-husband. Medium height, slender, he wore a suit really well. His hair was dark and thick, and the lingering trace of his English accent added to his misleading appeal.
“But actually, I’ve brought over Lara’s passport application papers for you to sign.” He placed them, plus his silver pen, the one she’d given him for Christmas on Lara’s behalf, on the island.
Sally leaned over and pulled the documents closer. Neil’s father, who had worked in investment banking, had brought his family to Canada for the two years he’d been stationed to work in Calgary. When the upper executive had had a massive heart attack and died, Neil’s mother had returned to Kent. Neil, who’d been accepted to law school at the University of Alberta, had remained.
This summer Neil planned to take Lara to visit his mother. Sally hated the idea of their daughter making an overseas trip without her, but she couldn’t deny Lara the chance to get to know her one surviving grandparent.
She executed the distinctive loop at the end of Stowe, then dropped the pen. “There.”
Neil folded the pages and stuffed them into the breast pocket of his jacket. “I see you’ve poured yourself a glass of wine. Drinking alone, Sal?”
The open bottle sat on the counter behind her, next to the cutting board with the diced chicken, peppers and onions. But Sally ignored both it and Neil’s question. She’d given him what he wanted. It was time for him to leave. To her dismay, though, he sidled along the island. Moving closer.
“Come on, Sal. Let’s drink a toast to your good news. What?” One eyebrow arched in casual question. “You didn’t think I knew that my ex-wife is the front-runner to replace Judge Kendal on the bench?”
Oh, no, he’d heard the rumors. She should have guessed he would have. And that he’d be quick to react. Her professional accomplishments always triggered Neil’s worst displays of temper. Too late she wished she’d lied about dinner and said she was expecting company. Neil would never buy the story now. Especially since she’d set only one plate at the counter. Taken down just the single wineglass.
Maybe she could improvise…
“Neil, you really need to be going. I have to eat quickly. My book club is meeting here at seven.” That was only half an hour from now. And a smart man like Neil would factor in the possibility that someone might arrive early…
“Sal.” He gave her a disappointed smile. “Don’t you think I know you meet with your book club on the second Friday of every month? Not the third.”
“We had to change for April,” she said, doing her best to speak slowly. “Because of spring break.”
“I don’t think so. You always were a lousy liar. But that’s probably a good thing. Judges shouldn’t lie, should they, Sal?”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Neil. Willa isn’t retiring for another two months. And I’m sure there are other worthy candidates for the position.” Sally couldn’t be sure she would get the appointment until she had the official call from the federal justice minister.
“Who do you think you’re fooling with that bogus humility? Not me, I assure you.”
He had that smile on his face now. Beth had called it the ice-man smile. He used it in court occasionally when he was moving in for the kill on a vulnerable witness. But to Sally the ice-man smile never seemed as cruel, as ruthless, as when she felt it directed at herself.
“Whatever, Neil.”
“Justice Stowe. Sounds very distinguished, doesn’t it?”
“Neil—”
“Long-term board member of that stupid battered women’s shelter. Past president of the law society. The volunteer hours in dispute resolutions. Looks like all your goody-goody work is actually paying off.”
With each word, Sally could sense his anger building. There was no avoiding a full-scale argument now, she knew from experience. Any word, any movement, even a facial twitch on her part could set him off. Might as well get it over with, she decided.
“That’s right. It’s all paying off. With any luck, in two months I’m going to be appointed to the bench. Is that why you dropped by tonight—to offer your congratulations?”
The changes that fell over his face were utterly predictable. First his eyebrows lowered into a frown. His smile tightened. His eyes narrowed.
He moved again, rounding the island and then cornering her against the counter.
“Congratulations?” He spit out the word. “You think you deserve a pat on the back for reneging on your real job—raising our child and being a good wife?”
“I’m not your wife anymore.”
“To me you are. I may have signed those papers….”
He’d had to sign them. She’d known him well enough to serve them when he was at work, in a meeting. He couldn’t pretend to his colleagues that nothing was amiss. So he’d pretended, instead, that the divorce was his idea. She didn’t care about that. All she’d wanted was to finally be legally free of the man.
