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Lara moaned out loud. How could she have forgotten? She and Sandy had made a date last week to have breakfast this morning. She’d promised to pick Sandy up more than an hour ago! She hurried to the front door and threw it open, apologizing before Sandy could even get inside and shake off the snow.
“God, Sandy! I’m sorry! I completely forgot about our breakfast—”
“No problem, it’s okay. Really. My car’s in the shop again so I just trudged up the sidewalk in a snowstorm, that’s all. I’m up to it.”
She waved toward the street, and Lara followed her movement. Footsteps proved Sandy’s point. She looked back at her friend. “Why did you walk, for heaven’s sake? Couldn’t Matthew have given you a ride?”
Sandy’s husband, Matthew Oakley, was Conley’s right-hand man and former college roommate. Conley depended a lot on the brilliant hardware designer.
“He had to go in early. Something about some chip or something…” Sandy patted her bulging stomach. “The baby didn’t mind. He likes cold weather. Really…”
Lara rolled her eyes at Sandy’s elaborate exaggeration. Friendly and outgoing, Sandy was the exact opposite of her quiet and intense husband, although just as smart. She and Lara had developed a close friendship over the years, mainly because Sandy was one of those people who never missed an opportunity to announce how she felt about anything. She kept Lara honest.
Shaking out of her coat, Sandy turned around to add to her litany of woes, then she saw Lara’s face. “Oh, my God. You told him, didn’t you?”
Lara nodded, her eyes filling. Sandy enveloped her in a hug; then, with her arm around Lara’s shoulder, she guided them both back to Lara’s kitchen. “Sit down,” she said. “I’ll fix us some tea.” Sandy got out the mugs and tea bags, and within seconds, the smell of lemon and honey filled the kitchen.
“Tell me.” She placed the steaming cups on the kitchen table and sat down in the chair Conley had vacated a scarce half hour before. “What’d he say?”
Lara shook her head. “It didn’t go well. He…he wasn’t thrilled.”
“Did you expect him to be?”
“I thought he was ready.”
“But he’s not.”
Lara sipped her tea and grimaced. Sandy always made it too sweet. “He threw a mug into the sink, then stormed out. It wasn’t like him at all.” She looked up. “You know how he is. Mr. Strong and Silent.”
Sandy waited a heartbeat, then she said just what Lara expected, her reaction sharp and to the point. “You’re an idiot, Lara. A total, complete idiot.”
Outside the back door, the wind suddenly picked up. Snow swirled and the fir tree beside the window tapped a staccato beat against the glass as if it agreed with Sandy’s pronouncement.
“I had to do it,” Lara said stubbornly, not meeting her friend’s eyes. “And you know why.”
“I know why you think you had to do it, but I refuse to believe your suspicions. Conley isn’t that kind of man. You don’t really think that anyway. It’s an excuse, that’s all.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Lara spoke quietly, sadness coloring her words. “There’s an emptiness between us that I can’t fill by myself. We aren’t the couple we used to be. We aren’t close. We aren’t a family. We don’t even seem to care. And it hurts too much to keep trying.” Her eyes went to her friend’s swelling stomach. “Maybe if we’d had children…”
“Having a baby doesn’t make you a family. Love makes you a family. You could get it back if you tried.”
“I did try, Sandy. But it takes two.”
“You and Conley just got on the wrong track, that’s all. If you’d both—”
“There’s nothing either of us can do now.” Lara interrupted her friend. “It’s over. Believe me, it’s over.”
The wind continued to howl, the gusts growing stronger. Sandy waited a beat. “I’m well aware that’s what you think. But what if it isn’t what Conley believes?”
Looking up at her friend, Lara gripped her tea mug a little too tightly. “I don’t see—”
“Throwing dishes isn’t a typical sign of consensus, is it? Did he say straight out that he’d agree to a divorce?”
“He stormed out the door, Sandy. It was obvious—”
Sandy cocked her head to one side and raised her right eyebrow. It was a familiar move; Lara had seen her do it a thousand times…usually right before she made some horrendous point Lara hadn’t considered. “Did he or did he not actually say to you that he would give you a divorce?”
Lara felt her heart thump. “He—he didn’t actually say the words but…”
“Lara, Lara, Lara…” Sandy shook her head slowly. “Colorado’s a no-fault state and Conley’s got plenty of money. You and I both know money makes the impossible…possible. And vice versa. If he doesn’t want a divorce, it could get nasty.” She put her teacup down carefully. The deliberate movement reminded Lara of Conley. Instead of mere hours, she felt as if a lifetime had passed since they’d talked.
“If he wants to fight you, he can.” Sandy raised both eyebrows this time. “If I were you, I’d be worried about that possibility.”
SANDY STAYED a little while longer, then Lara took her home. The streets were completely empty, the snow coming down in sheets of solid white. When they pulled into Sandy’s driveway, she turned to Lara and paused, her fingers on the door handle.
One last question, Lara thought with dread. God, hadn’t she said enough already?
“Have you told Ed?”
Lara grimaced. Her father would go ballistic when he heard her news, and then there’d be hell to pay. When Ed was unhappy, everyone was unhappy. He made sure of it.
“Not yet. I’m dreading it, though.”
Sandy’s expression turned sympathetic. “He’s not an easy man to break bad news to, that’s for certain.”
Lara tucked her hair behind one ear and smiled grimly. “He’s not an easy man, period.” For just a second she was six years old again and in the first grade. That’s when she’d learned other kids called their fathers “Dad” or “Pop” or even “Father.” Anything but their first name. The argument had been short, and Lara had learned quickly how much her opinion—or anyone else’s for that matter—meant to Ed.
“He won’t like it,” Sandy said.
“Yep. He told me when I got married to make it last. I guess I haven’t followed his advice.”
Sandy snorted. “He’s a big one to be giving advice about marriage.”
Ed had been to the altar four times. Lara’s mother, his first wife, had deserted him when Lara was five. Unable to stand his overbearing ways and need to control, Alicia Bentley had fled, leaving her baby daughter behind. She’d died shortly after that in a skiing accident. And Ed had been with a number of women since.
“You’re right,” Lara conceded. “But I’m sure Ed would tell you he loved every one of them.”
“Well, he can be charming.” Sandy grinned. “But there’s that other side of him…”
“You mean the side I’ll see when I tell him about the divorce?” Lara gripped the steering wheel. “He likes Conley. He’ll believe this is all my fault.”
The silence stretched out, then Sandy reached across the seat and put her hand on Lara’s right arm. Her expression held a wistful note. Married longer than Lara and Conley, Sandy and Matthew had never had a perfect relationship but since the pregnancy, things had gotten more tense. Sandy had always idealized Lara’s marriage, mainly because she idealized Conley.
“Are you sure about this, Lara? I mean, really, really sure? Conley’s the kind of man every woman dreams about….”
Lara stared through the windshield. She’d asked herself that very same question a thousand times the past few weeks, and each time, her answer had been the same. Yes. Absolutely. Positively. Without a doubt. She wanted a divorce.
She wanted it because things weren’t working out, but for other reasons as well. Lara had vowed a long time ago that she would never be like the women her father had always married. Except for one—Bess MacDougal—they had been helpless and insecure, women who didn’t know who they were without a man. When Ed’s interest flagged, Lara had read the desperation in their eyes; she’d be damned before she’d see it in hers.
A few years ago, she and Conley had reached this same point and had almost separated. They’d decided to give the marriage another try, but after a while, a very painful while, it was clear to Lara nothing had really changed. The agony of that realization was something she never intended to experience again.
To top it all off, there was the Other Problem. She couldn’t bring herself to use the actual term because then the situation would become too real for her so she always thought of it as the Other Problem.
She turned to her friend and spoke. “Yes,” she said. “I’m absolutely sure. I don’t love Conley anymore. It’s time to move on.”
WHEN SHE CAME BACK through the kitchen door, Lara’s phone was ringing. It was probably Ed, she decided, wondering why she wasn’t yet in the office. She loved her job, but sometimes she found herself wishing someone other than her father owned the company. He was a hard boss and it was a hard job. Bodyguards to night patrols, employee checkouts to prenuptial investigations, Mesa Security offered very discreet services to very wealthy clients. The firm kept a low profile—so much so it was known only in certain circles. But it was the best, and when someone needed help with a delicate situation, they called Mesa. Mainly responsible for the day-to-day operations, Lara left the heavy-duty bodyguard service to the fleet of freelancers Ed managed. A few years back, personal security was all she’d done, but she’d put that part of the business behind her.
She’d had to.
The phone rang again and with a moan, she shrugged out of her coat and grabbed the receiver off the wall. But the person at the other end wasn’t Ed.
“Lara? This is Theresa. Did I…catch you at a bad time? You sound out of breath.”
“I just came in the door. I had to run Sandy home. She’d stopped by.”
Catching her reflection in the window over the sink, Lara pushed her hair out of her face and tried to imagine Theresa Marchante, Conley’s attorney, appearing as Lara did right now. Sweats, no makeup, in need of a shower. The woman had to exercise—she was too svelte and attractive not to—but somehow Lara couldn’t picture the lawyer bedraggled and mussed. Theresa always looked wonderful, her suits tailored and in flawless taste, her red hair shining and pulled back. Normally such perfection would have made Lara dislike Theresa immediately, but because of the attorney’s attitude that was impossible. Conley valued her opinion in all his legal matters. Theresa was a hard worker and loyal to her clients—she’d been Conley’s counsel for several years now.
“I’m sorry to have to bother you, but…” She paused and seemed to hesitate.
A rush of coldness swept over Lara, shaking her to her toes. Theresa Marchante didn’t flounder over anything. God, had Conley already contacted her? Had he already told her to start the paperwork for the divorce?
Lara dropped her coat on a nearby kitchen chair then gripped the phone with both hands. “It’s okay, Theresa. What can I do for you?”
“I…I have some bad news, Lara.”
Lara’s chest went tight. He had told her! Conley had gone directly to his office and called his attorney! Damn, he might have even called her from the Suburban. Lara’s initial feeling of dismay, even though she’d been the one to bring it all up, morphed illogically into anger. His little act of rage this morning had been just that—an act. He couldn’t wait to be free of her, could he?
“I know what you’re going to say, Theresa.” She forced herself to speak. “I’m just surprised he told you this fast. Did he…ask you to start the paperwork already?”
“I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing, Lara. In fact, I know we aren’t. I’m calling about Conley—”
“I don’t know what he told you this morning, but the divorce is my idea, okay? I was the one who brought it up and I’m the one who—”
“Lara, look, I don’t know anything about a divorce.” In a voice uncharacteristically shaky, Theresa broke in, halting Lara’s explanation. “I’m calling because Conley’s been in an accident. I’m at the hospital right now. He asked me to phone and let you know.”
“Wh-what? An accident?” She fumbled for the chair behind her and sat down, her coat falling to the floor. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure at this point. We were supposed to have a meeting early this morning. I was running late and when I got here, I found him in the street, right outside the building. He was shivering and banged up pretty good. He said something about a car hitting him, but I didn’t get all the details. I took him straight to the hospital. The doctor’s in with him right now.”
“Oh, my God…is he okay?”
“He doesn’t seem to be hurt too seriously, but he wanted you to know what was going on.”
Lara jumped up from the chair. “I’ll be right there, Theresa. I have to get dressed but it’ll only take a minute then I’ll—”
“Lara, don’t! The weather’s horrible and it’s getting worse. You’ll just cause another accident rushing over here.” Theresa’s voice returned to its usual firm and sensible tone. “It’s not necessary. I can bring him home when they finish. If they keep him longer, then you can come after lunch. It’s supposed to be better later this afternoon.”
Lara jogged down the hall toward her bedroom. “No,” she said firmly. “I want to see him. I have to see him. I’ll throw on something and be there in twenty minutes.”
Theresa was still talking as Lara clicked off the phone and tossed the cordless unit to her bed. The attorney meant well, but she didn’t understand. When Conley got upset or worried, his mind was like a train on a single track. Lara yanked off her sweatshirt and Lycra pants. He’d been concentrating on their angry words; he’d never seen the car or whatever had hit him and she was to blame.
Pulling a pair of gray slacks from the closet and a black turtleneck, she dressed in record time, guilt fueling her every step. Five seconds later she had her hair slicked back and lipstick slapped on. Running through the kitchen, she grabbed her purse and cell phone and headed out the door, a missed shard crunching beneath her right boot.
She didn’t stop to wonder why her heart was lodged in her throat.
“I DON’T KNOW the details. That’s all I can tell you right now.” Lara gripped the steering wheel of her truck and maneuvered out the driveway. The overhead speaker of her cell phone crackled in response.
“I don’t care if he just has a hangnail, he’s better off in Denver.” Her father’s gravelly voice boomed across the line. “That Podunk hospital in Red Feather is a disaster waiting to happen. He should be down here in Boulder, at the very least.”
Before Lara could answer, she heard her father bark instructions to someone in his office, probably Larry, her stepbrother. “Get me International Helo Service outta Denver! Earl Stanley runs ’em and I want him on the phone—”
“Ed, Ed! Hold off.” Lara spoke loudly, trying to get his attention back. “I want to check things out at the hospital before you start taking over the situation. I’ll call you from there.”
“But I can have a chopper at Red Feather in no time! We’ll airlift him to Denver then Houston if we need to—”
“Let me see him first, okay? I promise I’ll call you after I get a handle on things, then we can decide what to do.”
Something in her voice must have registered. He spoke again, this time slower. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I can—”
“I know you ‘can’ anything, okay?” Lara reached the corner, the snowbound street before her virtually deserted, a blanket of white swirling down over the trees and parked cars. Another six inches of snow had fallen since she’d taken Sandy home. “But let me see what’s going on before you go into action. The way Theresa talked, I don’t think he’s hurt that badly.”
Silence was her only answer and Lara cursed to herself. He had his faults, but the old coot could read her like a well-worn book.
“If that’s what you think, how come you’re so upset?”
Lara tightened her hands, her leather gloves squeaking inside the still freezing cabin of the truck. “What makes you think I’m upset?”
“I can hear it in your voice, dammit. What kinda imbecile do you think I am? I’ve been your father for thirty-three years! You don’t think—”
“Okay, okay…enough already!” She gunned the engine and turned the corner, fighting the skidding tires. She didn’t want to explain but telling him this way did have its advantages; she could confess what was going on, then hang up on him. He could rant and rave to Larry and his wife, Stephanie. Stephanie was the sweetest person Lara knew—she could actually calm Ed down sometimes.
“So what it is?” he demanded. “If you think Con’s okay what’s wrong?”
“We had a fight this morning.”
“Everyone fights. That’s what marriage is about.”
“Not us,” she answered grimly. “Conley doesn’t argue, you know that.”
He grunted his agreement and waited for her to continue.
“We fought because…because I told him I want a divorce.”
“A divorce! Are you nuts?” Her father’s wrathful voice filled the interior of the truck. “Have you lost your mind?”
“You don’t understand—”
“You’re damn right I don’t understand! Conley Harrison is the best thing in your life. The man’s a brick! He makes more money than you can ever spend, he obviously loves you—”
