Letters from Peaceful Lane (New Americana 3) - Page 7

Allison willed herself to speak calmly. “Burke’s awake and talking. I’m just a little . . . unraveled, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

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He shook his head. His eyes were bloodshot, but his thick brown hair was neatly combed. He’d changed from his dinner clothes into khakis and a fresh navy polo shirt. “You look like you could use some coffee,” he said, steering her toward the cafeteria. “Come on. We need to talk.”

We need to talk. Burke’s words came back to haunt her as Garrett steered her past the nurses’ desk and down a tiled hallway that smelled of coffee and disinfectant. It was important that she file at once, Burke had told her. Missouri wasn’t a community property state like California. Only assets acquired after the marriage were considered marital property, which in this case was next to nothing. But with Burke’s help, a sharp lawyer should be able to secure her a share of his assets before hungry creditors closed in and took everything. The American Heartland was likely beyond saving, but Burke had promised to hold off the vultures long enough for her to get her cut of his financial accounts, as well as the house and the cars.

“I owe you that much for the pain I’ve caused,” he’d said. “You’re a smart, beautiful woman, Allison. You’ll get along fine without me.”

Allison had risen slowly to her feet, feeling as if the floor were crumbling away underneath her. “I’m your wife, Burke,” she’d said, forcing each syllable out of her constricted throat. “I married you for better or for worse. If you want a divorce, you can bloody well get one yourself!”

Without waiting for his response, she had turned away and walked out of the room.

“Here you are.” Garrett guided the steaming Styrofoam cup into her hands. He had seated her at a table next to the window. Allison realized she had no memory of walking into the cafeteria or sitting down in the chair.

“Anything else? A Danish?”

She shook her head and took a sip of the scalding black coffee. It burned her tongue but the sudden caffeine jolt jump-started her brain. “What about the American Heartland and the agency?” she asked, astonished by her own self-possession. “Burke seems to think they’ll go under without him.”

He gazed at her intently over his coffee cup. “I’ll be running things in Burke’s absence,” he said. “I’ll do everything I can to keep the business going. But I’m going to need your help.”

“Why, for heaven’s sake? Burke was lucid when I left him just now. He seems perfectly capable of making decisions.” Allison winced inwardly as she remembered the scene in the ICU.

“True. But he’s had a concussion. Even if he’s sharp, he’s going to need weeks of rest, especially if he has back surgery. While he’s recovering, you can act as a go-between and keep me informed about his condition.” Garrett took a sip of his coffee. “But that’s down the road a bit. Right now I need a favor.”

He waited for her to respond. When she remained silent, he continued. “We have three contracts pending for future acts. There’s a woman who does a great Patsy Cline cover and a couple of others. Burke took them home for a final read-through a couple of nights ago. I need them by tomorrow in case we have to renegotiate. Can you find them and get them to me by then?”

“You’re sure Burke didn’t bring the papers back? Have you checked his briefcase? His car?”

Garrett nodded. “I’m certain they’re still at your house. If it isn’t too much of an imposition—”

“No, it’s fine. The papers should be somewhere in his study, most likely his desk. I’ll look for them when I go home to shower and change.”

“It might save time if we asked him where he put them.”

“No. Leave him be. He needs his rest.”

When Garrett shot her an odd glance, Allison realized she’d spoken too quickly. He was probably wondering what was going on. Well, let him wonder. She was going to need some time before she faced Burke again.

“Once you’ve found the contracts I can send somebody to pick them up,” Garrett said. “That way you won’t need to hurry back.”

“Don’t bother. In any case, I don’t plan to be at the house long. I can bring them here or to your office.”

“The office, then, if you don’t mind. The sooner I get back to work, the better. For now, I’ll be doing two jobs. I’m depending on you to keep me informed about Burke.”

You can’t just pick up the phone and call him? Allison bit back the words as she slid her chair out and rose to her feet. “What do the contracts look like?” she asked.

“About five pages each, together in a plain manila envelope. The margins should have Burke’s notes on them in red. You’ll know them when you see them.”

“Fine. I’ll drop the envelope off on my way back here.” Allison rose wearily to her feet. “If you have any questions, you can ask Burke. He’s still the man with the answers. Thanks for the coffee.” She turned to go.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “I’d be happy to drive you back to the house.”

“You have a business to run, remember?” She strode away, willing her unsteady legs not to betray her. Right now, Garrett Miles was the only person who could save Burke’s business. But he was an ambitious man, and he was clearly looking out for his own interests. She would have no choice except to cooperate with him. But she could not afford to lean on him.

As she stepped into the parking garage, the truth struck her like the flash of sunrise coming up over the hills. It wasn’t just Garrett. In her small circle of people who mattered, there was no one she could count on for support. Burke was wounded and defiant. Brianna hated her. She had no family, and her single friends, even the close ones, had moved on after her marriage. There was no one she could confide in, no one who would offer so much as a comforting shoulder when she felt beaten and bloodied.

Her safe, pretty little world was falling apart, and there was no one to help her pick up the pieces.

Tags: Janet Dailey New Americana Romance
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