“Bullet, I want to say—Gretchen and I both want to say, we are sorry. I wish I could take it back but I can’t. She’s my wife, we have kids—you have nephews that you haven’t seen. It’s time for this animosity between us to end. Gretchen and I have a life together but I want my brother back. Believe it or not, I love you and I truly am sorry for everything, brother.” He’d said it all in one breath, as if he could hardly wait to get it out, but I knew Slate meant it. Big and burly, Slate wasn’t the kind of guy to shower you with fake compliments or offer up false apologies. That was one reason why their betrayal had been so hard to deal with. It just wasn’t like my brother. I had not expected it. I blamed him—then her and then both of them until I hated them, quite frankly. It was true that Gretchen and I weren’t engaged—hell, we’d hardly started dating, but I sure had fallen hard for her and her glossy lips. Other than Laura Patrick in middle school, Gretchen had been the love of my life. I thought of Lilly’s sweet, heart-shaped face. No, I had screwed that up too.
I held the phone in my hand, very conscious of the fact that I had complete control of the situation. I could very justly cuss him out and hang up forever or I could accept his apology.
“I want to forgive you but it’s hard. I know that isn’t what you want to hear but I am being honest with you. I don’t mean to talk about Gretchen—I mean your wife, but I expected women to do stuff like that. Not my own brother.”
“I know, I understand. I should have come to you right at the beginning when I knew how I felt—how she felt, but I didn’t. Do you think you will ever be able to forgive me?”
I sighed.
“Of course I will—you’re my brother. I miss you too.” That was it.
Everything was right as rain again, at least for Slate. He chatted on, excited about his oldest
boy playing T-ball and he sounded as if a load had been lifted, a heavy, heartbreaking load, and I felt good about giving him that. But I was far from fixed. Slate didn’t know that I had spent years cultivating a bohemian lifestyle, that now, again I found something real and was about to lose it—lose her. How could he know it? During a pause in the conversation I said, “You know how you asked me how I was doing?”
“Yeah?”
I swallowed the last of my bourbon. “Not too good. You see, there’s this girl…”
Chapter Three
Lilly
A few days after I had returned home, I walked up the steps to my apartment with arm loads of fresh food. I had put this task off as long as I could and quite frankly was tired of eating out. Kate was coming over later and I couldn’t wait to see her. I had everything I needed to make a delicious, cheesy lasagna. I was surprised to see a package sitting on my doorstep. I slid the key in the lock and stepped over it. I quickly deposited my bags of groceries and went to retrieve my surprise. I didn’t remember ordering anything. I stared at the return label — this was from Bullet Steinmann. What in the world could this be?
I set the box on the counter and stared at it as I put my groceries away. The soreness from my weekend with Bullet had faded but the memory of him had not. I would never admit this to anyone but I didn’t wash my black silk lingerie because it smelled like his cologne. Once everything was tucked away I grabbed a knife and cut away the packing tape. Carefully I removed the packing supplies and stared at my gift. My hand flew to my mouth and I caught my breath. I recognized the violin — the one from the antique shop.
When would he have pulled that off? I thought back to our day in Blue Lake, me running to the car, Bullet closing the trunk. Oh, wow. I’m such a jerk. As if I didn’t know that already. My attorney called me yesterday and let me know what he had discovered. Apparently Amelia Sheffield had a habit of taking professionals to court. So far she had sued a contractor, two doctors and a health food store manager. Even though she was only 20, Miss Sheffield had been involved in four litigations — and she had only won one of those. She had no job and had dropped out of college. I guess suing people was her job. By believing the crazy server I had proven to Bullet that I wasn’t much of a friend.
I looked at the clock. I had a couple of hours to kill before Kate arrived. As quickly as I could, I put the lasagna together and slid the dish in the refrigerator. It only needed to bake for 40 minutes and I would have plenty of time to do that when I came back. I had to see him, to thank him for the thoughtful gift. There was no note in the box so I wasn’t sure how he felt about me but I had to find out. Nervously I tidied up my makeup and smoothed my hair before I left. I didn’t have to guess where he was, his assistant Page was constantly tweeting on his behalf. He was in town and at the clinic where I had met him before. I didn’t have an appointment and I sure wasn’t going to call but I was going to try to see him.
Luckily, the waiting room wasn’t packed and I did not have to beg for an appointment. After about 15 minutes, Bullet came to the door wearing his white coat and stethoscope and welcomed me back. We had not been formally introduced but from the cold stares I received from the young-looking, brown-haired nurse at the front desk, I knew she was Page. As I walked past her to follow Bullet to his office, I glimpsed at her name tag. Yep, that was Page. She had a sling haircut, bobbed at the back and longer in the front. She had a narrow face with small eyes and oversized lips. She didn’t make eye contact with me but stared at Bullet who avoided looking at her. Hmm…I wonder what that’s about.
I had about as much luck as she did. I could tell immediately that he wasn’t in the mood to receive a visit from me. He sat behind his massive desk and waved his hand at the empty chair across from him.
“Good afternoon, Lilly. I assume that you have changed your mind about the surgery? Is that correct?” He was all politeness with his professionalism but he showed no hint of a smile.
“No, I haven’t changed my mind. I’m not here for surgery. I wanted to say thank you for the violin. It was a lovely surprise.”
He leaned back in his seat, showing off his muscular frame. I couldn’t help but remember our times together—in the tent, in front of the fire. Now here we were, alone again and he acted like we barely knew each other. “I am glad you received it. It wasn’t damaged or anything?”
“No, it played beautifully. No damage at all.” He didn’t say anything, just nodded and tapped his long fingers on the desk.
“Okay, well I won’t take up more of your time.” I stood clumsily on my feet. I regretted wearing these high heels now. He rose too and opened the door for me. He didn’t try to touch me or get close to me.
“Thanks for stopping by,” he said in a soft voice. Then the door closed behind me. I paused. What should I do? Go apologize for making a scene? For not believing him? Should I bang on the door and demand that he talk to me? I didn’t do any of those things. I walked away, down the hall and out of the office. I ignored the nurse who called after me. I climbed in my car and drove down the road. I was two stoplights away when I began to swear in frustration.
The first thing I did when I made it home was open a bottle of wine. I slid the lasagna in the oven and changed my clothing. Like a spoiled kid, I kicked off my high heels, sending them flying across the room. I saw my answering machine blinking and I pressed the button. “Good afternoon, Miss Brightwood. This is Lela Dandridge with Metro. I’m calling to inform you that although you scored high on our list, you were not selected for the opening. I trust we will see you again if another position becomes available. Thank you for your audition. Have a nice day.”
Have a nice day? What? I played the message again and then again. I could not believe it! I thought I nailed it! I had never been surer of anything in my life. I had heard the other three ahead of me, and the only one I didn’t hear was the applicant after me. He must have had quite a performance because the rest of my competition wasn’t anything to worry about—or at least that’s what I thought. I wondered how rude it would be to call Lela Dandridge back and demand to know who won. I crumpled onto the couch and laid there until I head Kate knocking on the door.
“Coming,” I shouted at the door. “Welcome to Shangri-La,” I said as she swirled into the room on a cloud of usual amber perfume. Her smile faded away as she saw me grasping the bottle and pouring another glass of wine.
“Oh dear, what happened now?” Was that a note of aggravation I detected in my friend’s voice? Oh well, she could just deal with it. I’ve always been there for her. Without waiting for an answer to her question she said, “Hey, this is lovely!” Kate dug in the open box and lifted the violin out. “Gee, I wonder how old it is?”
“At least a hundred years old. Bullet sent me that. It is the one we found in Blue Lake.”
Her full lips curled up prettily. “That’s pretty good, huh?”