Always in Her Heart

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“Originally, Davis and I were equal partners.” He clenched the chair arms. “Actually, he put up most of the start-up money, but he insisted on a partnership.” Most of the Conrad fortune was gone by that time, but there was still enough for Davis to invest in their futures. “Then when we wanted to expand, we divided the pot. Davis and I each owned thirty percent of the company. The remaining forty percent was split among four investors—Frank, Delbert Conrad—Davis’s great-uncle, and two friends of his father, Harvey Ward and old Doc Adams. Davis was company president, I was chairman.”

“Davis’s share goes to Marcy, but with the custody still not settled…” Annie let her voice trail off.

“Exactly. It leaves us in limbo. Davis and I would vote together on any decision, and together we had a majority.” He didn’t want to voice what he’d been thinking, but he forced himself to. “Even without Marcy’s shares, Frank could outvote me if he got the rest of the board on his side. With Marcy’s share, all he’d need is his great-uncle’s vote for complete control.”

She leaned forward in the rocker. “But why would he want it? He doesn’t know anything about building, does he?”

“No.” Chet answered for him. “Frank manages the rental properties he inherited and sits on the boards of a few institutions. He likes running things. And there’s that lakefront property. He’s said more than once that it’s a potential gold mine, and I’ve had the impression lately that his expensive tastes are outrunning his income.” He stood. “All I can say is that you should continue the way you are. The rest of the board won’t rush into any changes. I certainly wouldn’t advise it.”

Link stood, too, holding out his hand. “Thanks, Chet. For everything.”

Annie joined him as Chet moved to the door. “Yes, thank you.” She managed a smile. “I don’t know how we’d have gotten through today without you.”

“Just doing my job.”

They stood together like any married couple saying good-night to a visitor. Was that what Annie was thinking, too? How were they going to do this, especially with a social worker looking over their shoulders, taking note of every mistake?

He closed the door, realizing that thought had been lurking at the back of his mind ever since the judge’s ruling. Annie, with her nice, stable, middle-class up-bringing, couldn’t possibly guess what terrors the threat of a social worker raised in his mind.

They’ll take you away and put you in a home. His mother’s voice, slurred with alcohol, sounded in his memory. Those were the words she’d always used when he got too much for her to handle.

At five or six, he hadn’t understood what she meant, but it had terrified him enough to keep him in line through yet another move to yet another rented room in another town that didn’t welcome them….

“Do you want anything to eat?” Annie gestured toward the kitchen.

“No.” He didn’t realize how sharply that had come out until he saw anger flare in her eyes.

“If you think I should have produced a six-course dinner after a day like this—”

“No, of course not. I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking about food.”

She looked a bit mollified. “What were you thinking about? The company?”

“Not exactly.” She didn’t need to know he was remembering a childhood she couldn’t begin to imagine. “Just all we have to do to make this work.”

Annie rubbed her forehead, as if the very idea gave her a headache. “Home visits, social workers. How do you prepare for something like that?”

That was certainly the last thing he wanted to discuss. “We’d better start with telling your parents what’s going on. I know your father’s worried. And then there’s your job. You’d better apply for a leave of absence.”

He stopped, realizing that Annie no longer looked tired. She just looked mad.

“We?” she said pointedly. “It sounds to me as if all those things concern me, not you.”

He picked up her hand, touching the plain gold band on her finger. “Married, remember? We have to start acting that way.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to tell me what to do.” She yanked her hand away. “But then, you’re really good at telling people what to do, aren’t you.”

Something seemed to snap inside him. “Are you still talking about the past? Get over it, Annie. We’ve got more important things to handle now.”

“Definitely more important. And that reminds me that I couldn’t trust you once before.”

He put his fists on his hips, glaring at her. All the things he’d wanted to say for years bubbled up inside him. Only now, he didn’t have any reason to keep them back. Everyone involved in his original promise was gone.

“It wasn’t a matter of trust,” he said evenly. “I made a promise.”

“A promise to do what? Keep Davis safe from unworthy females like Becca?”

He could only stare at her. Of course that was what she thought. He hadn’t given her any other possibilities.

“It wasn’t that. Don’t ever think that. Becca was probably the best thing that ever happened to Davis.” As you were to me. His first love had come back to haunt him. “It was Davis, not Becca. His parents made me promise to look out for him that summer.”

Her chin set firmly. “Did they expect you to keep him from falling in love?”

“No.” He took a breath, knowing it was time to speak. “They expected me to keep him from acting irrationally. Davis had bipolar disorder. They didn’t want him doing anything rash while he was in a manic phase. I was supposed to prevent that.”

“Bipolar disorder?” She looked up at him, and he could see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to make sense of the term. “Well, for goodness’ sake, why make such a big secret out of it? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You know that. I know that. But Davis’s parents never coped with it very well, and at the time, there was more of a stigma attached to it. And the least change in Davis’s routine could trigger a problem.”

“And Becca was a trigger?” She flared up again, anger making her eyes bright. “You should have told me. You should have told Becca! She certainly had a right to know.”

“I couldn’t. Will you get that through your head? I knew it was dumb, but I’d promised to keep it a secret, and I keep my promises.”

Quite suddenly the anger in her eyes was drowned by tears. “Becca never told me. She did mention stress a few times, when Davis didn’t come with her on a visit, but she never explained. All these years I thought we shared everything, and she never told me about it.”

He felt helpless in the face of her tears. “She probably never thought it was necessary.”

“Necessary? I was her sister!”

He certainly had a gift for making a bad situation worse. “I mean, she probably didn’t even think about it as a problem. His medication was so much better in recent years that it rarely became an issue. I worked with him every day, and I’d nearly forgotten about it.”

Annie brushed tears from her cheeks. “I thought—” She stopped, shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s ridiculous to be falling apart over that now.”

Sympathy welled up in him. No, not sympathy. Empathy. He knew exactly what she was feeling, because he felt it, too. They were both being blindsided by grief.

He touched her cheek gently, wiping away a tear. “I don’t think that’s why, is it? But if it helps, go ahead and be mad at me.”

Her sudden smile knocked him off balance. “Can I really?”

He was being drawn into that smile. He couldn’t help himself. All the warmth Annie hid behind her cool exterior blazed in it, drawing him closer and closer.

His wife. The words seemed to twitch a chord inside him. Annie was his wife. He’d thought he was immune to what that phrase represented. He wasn’t.

That sham wedding night had been bad enough. He’d seen the wariness in Annie’s face as she’d said good-night and scurried up the stairs. He’d deliberately stayed downstairs, giving her time to settle, aware of every footstep overhead, every creak of the bed.

Then she’d been at a safe distance. Now she was inches away, her warmth drawing him closer and closer.

Oh, no. He drew back, his hand dropping away from her face. No, indeed. This business of marriage was going to be difficult enough as it was. If he let himself give in to that surge of attraction for Annie, it would be impossible.

Chapter Four

Oh, Becca, why didn’t you tell me about Davis’s problem? I thought we told each other everything, Annie thought as she looked at the photograph on the bookshelf. Becca, Davis and Marcy smiled at each other in the pewter frame. Their love fairly radiated into the room, catching at her heart.

Well, if she were being honest, she hadn’t actually thought that—not since Becca married Davis. Certainly a married couple would have secrets they shared only with each other.

A chill seemed to touch her spine, like the frost that would soon claim the flowers Becca had planted alongside the house. She and Link were a married couple now, but the only secret they shared was the reason for that marriage.

She straightened the picture gently, then dropped the paper she was carrying on the end table next to the leather couch. She crossed to the French doors and looked out at the enclosed play yard.

Rain pelted down, as it had all day. It glistened on the red plastic slide and soaked into Marcy’s sandbox, turning the sand from beige to brown. She traced a droplet that shivered down the pane as she thought about that wave of feeling that had swept over her when Link touched her cheek the night before, wiping her tears away.

Forget it, she told herself fiercely. It had been a temporary aberration, a moment of empathy in their shared grief—it had meant nothing. It wouldn’t come again, because she wouldn’t let it. This whole situation was difficult enough without letting emotion get out of control.

She didn’t do that, ever. She was run by her head, not her heart. Except perhaps that once…

The click of the side door cut off a line of thought she’d rather not pursue.

Link paused, peeling off his windbreaker and shaking it outside before coming in. He eyed her with what she suspected was caution, probably no more eager than she was to venture into the emotional territory they’d found themselves in the previous night.

She pinned a smile to her face. “You’re home earlier than I expected. Marcy’s still napping.”

He nodded, hanging his jacket on the closet hook. “Too wet for most of what we planned to do at the site today. I sent the men home early.” Something that might have been worry darkened his eyes for an instant. “Hope we don’t have to do that too often. We need to get those houses under roof before the weather turns.”

Of course he was worried about the job. She’d learned enough in the past few days to guess that the company was overextended where this new project was concerned.

“Accountants don’t have to worry about the weather. Just tax season.”

He nodded, then turned a questioning look on her. “Speaking of that, have you talked to your boss about taking a leave?”

“Not yet.” The words came out more sharply than she had intended, and Link couldn’t know she was annoyed at herself, not him. The step was necessary, but she’d put it off all day, as if to hold back the moment at which her life in Boston would come to a halt.