Wicked Forest (DeBeers 2)

"I apologize for asking you to do that," I said. "I should have spoken to him myself."

She nodded.

"I don't knew the details, Willow, but it's better to just let him know how you feel and get that over with rather than prolong the pain for both of you."

"You're right. I'll call him," I said.

She was right. What was the paint of hiding and lying? This was his game, not mine. I told myself, and went to the phone. When I called his office, however, his secretary told me he wasn't there.

"He has to be there," I insisted. "He just called me. Tell him I'm on the phone."

"I'm telling you he's not here," she fired back. "As a matter of fact, he just left and he didn't leave a forwarding number.' Before I could say another word, she cut me off.

Fuming. I slammed the receiver down. Rather than do any more complaining to my mother. I shot out of the house and went down to the beach, pounding the sand with every step. I found a nice, secluded spot and flopped down, closing my eyes and letting the sound of the sea calm my jolting nerves. It worked, The ocean could be mesmerizing, a true panacea for all mental pain. After a little while. I actually fell asleep.

I woke when I sensed a coolness over me. When I opened my eyes. I saw it was a long shadow. I sat up quickly and saw Thatcher standing there, looking down at me, a tight smile on his face. With the sun behind him. I had to shade my eyes when I moved an inch either way.

"I know why you're angry and avoiding me," he said quickly.

"Really, Thatcher? And why might that be?"

"I heard what happened at the beauty salon." he said, folded his legs, and sat beside me on the sand. In the purplish light of the failing day, his glimmering eyes met mine, but his good looks had an opposite effect on me at the moment. They merely made me feel even angrier. Those were the good looks he apparently shared with any and every attractive and available young woman in Palm Beach.

"What, did the little bird tell you?"

"News travels quickly in this town," he said. "GTS."

"What's that?"

"Gossip telephone system," he replied, and smiled,

"Nothing seems funny to me. Thatcher."

"I know. I know. Look. Willow, for years the Shiny has been featuring me in gossip columns. If you're seen with the same woman more than once and you're an eligible bachelor, rumors pop out like pimples everywhere. For some reason. I'm more of a prime target than most."

"I can't imagine why," I said.

The point is, none of it is true. This last series of rumors has been spread mainly by my sister and my mother. They believe that if they get it in print, it will happen eventually." he said, and raised his hands. "It's nothing more than that."

"Really." I was quiet a moment, and then I turned on him. "I saw her picture in the paper. and I know that Vera Raymond was the woman I saw you with in the cafe, Thatcher. She was not someone in the midst of a bad divorce. One lie by necessity gives birth to another and another until they're swirling around you like bees, and just like bees. Thatcher, they can sting."

He widened his smile.

"I don't know what possessed me to think that I could keep anything from you. Willow. Yes, that was Vera with me. but I -was talking about a case, just not a divorce case. Her parents, especially her father, have been throwing her at me, if you want to know, and it just so happens he's a major client for my firm as well, so I humor him by escorting his daughter to affairs and letting the fantasy continue. But I'm bringing that all to an end. I swear," he said.

"Won't your mother and sister be heartbroken?"

Not any more than usual," he said. "I should have warned you about the gossip columns and all that. but I didn't think you would take any of it seriously."

"This is a place in which the true and the false are sides of the same coin most of the time. Whatever way it flips is the way it's accepted. How would I know what is to be taken seriously and what is not?"

"Take this seriously." he said, and reached into his pocket to produce a robins-egg blue ring box with the word Tiffany scrawled over it.

I simply stared at it.

"Open it and see what's in it. Willow."

Gingerly, I did, and there inside was an engagement ring with a diamond that looked to be at least two if not three carats in a platinum setting. My heartbeat quickened so fast, I lost my breath,