A Turn in the Road (29 page)

Once in her room, she sat on the bed and, after debating for a couple of minutes, reached for the phone. Her hand closed around the receiver, and without further hesitation, she punched out the cell number that was engraved in her memory.

B
ethanne pressed the receiver to her ear and held her breath with each ring. She was nearly gasping by the time Max picked up.

“It's Bethanne,” she said, struggling to talk. “Don't say anything, please. This isn't going to work. I'm so sorry.” She was on the verge of sobbing. “Grant is trying so hard and he wants us to reconcile and…and I owe him that. We were married all those years and until the affair he was a good husband, a good father. He's sorry and I can't be confusing myself with you…so I won't be talking to you again.” Despite her effort to make this as quick as possible, to say what she had to say and be done with it, a sob escaped.

She brought her hand to her mouth and managed to stifle a second one.

“Are you finished?” Max asked.

“Yes…I don't have anything more to say. I'm sorry, Max, so sorry. At any other time, I really think we could've made this work.”

“This is your final decision.”

She knew this break had to be definite. “Yes.”

“You don't want to wait until after Andrew's wedding?”

Drawing this out any longer would make it even more difficult. “No.”

“Why did you change your mind?”

If she confessed that she hadn't stopped thinking about him all the while she was in Florida with Grant, she'd only confuse matters. She couldn't let Max know that she had to get him out of her head if she intended to work things out with Grant.

“Bethanne?”

She couldn't answer for the lump in her throat.

“Bethanne,” he said softly. “Are you crying?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

She laughed then, and the sound mingled with that of a sniff so it sounded almost as though someone was strangling her.

“If I could hug you right now, I would.”

She wished it was possible. She needed to feel his arms around her, needed the comfort of his embrace.

“Are you sorry we met?” he asked.

“No.” Away from him, she'd wavered. But now that she heard his voice, she knew she didn't have a single regret.

“I'm not, either.”

“I need to go now.” She couldn't talk to him because she was afraid she'd reverse her decision.

“All right, but I have to tell you something first.”

“Okay.” It probably wasn't a good idea to listen, but she couldn't help herself.

“When we last spoke, you said you couldn't think about any of this, about Grant or me, until after your son's wedding. I agreed. I'm holding you to that, Bethanne. Whatever decision you make needs to wait until after July 16—that's when the ceremony is, right?”

“But…”

“I won't call you. But you should understand that I'm not giving up easily. I'm here for the long haul.”

“But… Grant's trying so hard,” she said again.

“So would I if I were in his shoes. The fact is, I'm trying, too. I care about you, Bethanne. I didn't think I could fall in love again. You proved me wrong.”

With every word he spoke, her resolve seemed to melt.

“Like I said, you won't hear from me, but I want to see you after the sixteenth. If, at that time, you feel a relationship between us won't work I'll accept that. But you're going to have to tell me to my face and not over the phone.”

“Don't, Max, please don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't love me. This is hard enough.”

Her plea was met with silence.

“I wish I could be more accommodating,” he finally said. “But I'm not a man who loves easily or often. I can't turn my feelings on and off like a faucet. This is what I feel, and it's not going to change no matter what you decide.”

“I've got to give Grant a chance.”

“Then you should.”

He didn't offer a single argument. “Why are you being so amenable about this?”

“Am I? I was kicking myself for being too hard on you.”

“You
want
me to let Grant try to persuade me?”

“Yes, because that's the only way you can decide. We'll meet after Andrew's wedding,” he continued. “The two of us are going to sit down and you're going to tell me then what your decision is. Not now. Not when you just got off a flight and you're feeling tired and pressured.”

“Yes,” she whispered. She knew now that she'd been unfair to him. “You're right…I should never have called.”

“I'm glad you did. Just hearing from you gives me hope.”

She had to talk about something else before she started crying again. “Did everything go well with you and your brother?”

“Extremely well. I'm resuming my position in the business. What's your email address? I'll send you a link so you can check it out.”

She rattled it off before she could change her mind.

“I'll talk to you in a few weeks.”

“Goodbye, Max.”

“Goodbye, my love.”

She hung up the phone and fell onto the thick down comforter. Reaching for a pillow, she bunched it up under her head and closed her eyes, thinking she'd rest for a few minutes. The next time she stirred, it was dark outside and she felt chilled.

When she realized she'd been asleep, Bethanne sat up and waited for her vision to adjust to the dark. She'd had no idea she was this tired. True, she hadn't slept well in several nights…

Oh, no. Had she really phoned Max or was that part of some weird dream? Her stomach tensed. It felt far too real to have been a dream.

Bethanne dragged herself off the bed and took a hot bath, got into her pajamas and returned to her bedroom, peeling back the covers. She climbed into bed and didn't wake until early Monday morning.

Once she was up and dressed, she brewed coffee and put a load of clothes in the washer. Then she sat at her home office computer to check her email.

As the messages appeared, the most current at the top, she saw Max's name and inhaled sharply. He'd said he would forward a link to his company website, but she hadn't expected him to do it this soon.

She read the release and, smiling, picked up the phone.

“I called you last night, didn't I?” she said when he answered.

“Yes. Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes. I…I'm sorry.”

“I mean what I said, Bethanne.”

“Good.”

She heard Rooster's voice in the background.

“I'm interrupting you,” she said.

“Not really. Rooster's helping me clean out the house. I've got an appointment with a real estate agent this afternoon.”

This was the house he'd lived in with Kate and their daughter. He must be dealing with a lot of difficult emotional issues. “Where will you move?” she asked.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

He didn't hesitate. “You.”

“Oh, Max.” Her shoulders slumped. Guilt, never very far away, came to hover near her.

“Are you still upset?”

“No.”

“I'm glad.” He chuckled. “I thought you weren't going to call me again,” he teased.

“I shouldn't.”

“Yes, you should,” he said. “Call me anytime you want, day or night, understand?”

“I won't,” she told him adamantly. “Not until after Andrew and Courtney's wedding. That's what we agreed.”

The doorbell chimed. She was in no mood for company. The bell chimed again and she groaned. Whoever was there didn't seem inclined to leave. “Hold on, someone's at the door,” she said, putting down the phone.

Before she could get to the foyer, she heard the front door open. It was Grant.

“Grant?” she said, shocked that he'd just walk into the house. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “I thought I'd stop by to see that you were doing okay after the flight and—”

“This is my home now! You don't have the right to let yourself in without an invitation.”

He blinked as though her words offended him. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “The front door was unlocked and I wasn't sure you heard the doorbell.”

As tired as she was the night before, Bethanne must have forgotten to lock it.

“Would you rather I left?” he asked, looking sufficiently chas
tened. “I certainly didn't mean to upset you and I can see that I have.”

Bethanne exhaled, torn between irritation and apprehension. She didn't want Grant to know Max was on the phone and, at the same time, she didn't want Max to know Grant was in the house.

“I've made a pot of coffee. Help yourself. I'm just finishing a phone call. I'll be there in a minute.”

“Thanks.”

She waited until Grant was on his way to the kitchen before she returned to her home office and closed the door.

Sitting at her desk, she propped her elbow on it and rested her forehead in her hand. “I have to go,” she told Max.

“Remember, if there's anything else you want to know about me, all you have to do is ask.”

Despite her discomfort, Bethanne smiled. “I'll remember.”

“Call me anytime.”

“I won't be calling,” she said. This was becoming a litany, repeated time after time.

“That's a pity.”

Grumbling under her breath, she replaced the receiver, then joined her ex-husband in the kitchen. Grant had poured himself a cup of coffee; he looked relaxed and at home.

“I apologize again, Bethanne. Walking into the house was presumptuous of me.”

She wasn't going to argue. She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “As you can see, I'm safe and sound.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Very well.” She didn't fill in the details.

He stirred sugar into his coffee. “Do you have plans for tonight?”

Seeing that she'd already agreed to have dinner with him on Tuesday, she couldn't imagine what he had in mind for tonight. “Not really. What are you thinking?”

“There's something I want to show you.” He gave her a rather
self-satisfied smile, which made her wonder. Still, she'd hoped for a quiet Monday evening.

“Today?” she asked. “Can't we do it later in the week?”

“Ah, sure.” He was clearly disappointed.

“Could you tell me what it is?”

Grant cradled his mug of coffee. “It's a house, a lovely one that's been on the market for a while. The owners are ready to bargain—and so am I.”

B
ethanne didn't really want to see this house Grant was so excited about. She knew from the years they were married that he'd dreamed of one day buying a home on Lake Washington. Waterfront property was highly sought after and, in a word, expensive.

By Wednesday afternoon, Bethanne regretted ever having consented to this. She hadn't been back in the office long and had barely had time to do more than answer emails and catch up with a few pressing items that required her immediate attention. Julia Hayden had done a masterful job but there were a number of decisions only Bethanne could make. Her day was harried enough without this appointment.

He phoned at noon to confirm their meeting time. She almost told him that he should arrange the viewing for another evening. What changed her mind was how excited he seemed. She hadn't heard that kind of enthusiasm from him in a very long while.

A half hour before she planned to leave, Annie wandered into her office. “Has your day been as hectic as mine?” her daughter asked.

“Yes,” Bethanne said, glancing up from her computer screen.

Annie sat down in the chair across from her desk. “Did you and Dad get together last night?”

“We did.” Grant had taken Bethanne to an old favorite of theirs. Zorba's was a family-owned Greek restaurant where they used to dine every year on their birthdays. Bethanne enjoyed Mediterranean-style cuisine, and so did Grant. Back then, it had been a real treat to splurge on a couple of special nights.

As Grant's career advanced they were able to dine out more often and they'd expanded their repertoire of restaurants. Bethanne hadn't gone to Zorba's since the divorce. Their meal on Tuesday evening had been pleasant and, not surprisingly, led to reminiscences of previous dinners there. The original owners, whom they remembered fondly, had retired and their children now ran Zorba's. While the recipes were the same, or so they were told, the food didn't taste quite as good.

“Dad said he was taking you to your favorite place.”

“We had several favorite restaurants.”

“You can't throw away all those years, Mom! You just can't.”

Bethanne didn't comment. Instead, she changed the subject. “Did your father mention that he wants us to see a house this afternoon?”

“Yeah, I think that's great, don't you?”

Bethanne was a little startled by her daughter's reaction. “I'm not selling the house, Annie. I told your father that when he brought up this idea, but he insisted I at least look.”

“It doesn't cost anything to do a walk-through, does it?”

Bethanne knew Andrew would appreciate her feelings about their family home. And she'd expected Annie to display some emotion regarding it. Annie had been four when they'd moved there and Bethanne doubted she had any memories of the apartment they'd lived in before that.

“Dad emailed me pictures of the Lake Washington house, and, Mom, it's really beautiful.”

Over dinner at Zorba's, Grant had shown her brochures for
cruises to the Greek isles, a trip they'd once anticipated for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Only, there hadn't been any anniversary and no trip. Bethanne had scanned the flyers while sipping a small glass of ouzo. The implication was that if they did remarry, they'd take one of these cruises—a second honeymoon.

Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. Too quickly for Bethanne. Grant was obviously trying to give her reasons to reconcile. He'd always been persuasive, a deal-maker, and he was using all his skills to sway her decision.

“Your father's trying
too
hard,” Bethanne felt obliged to tell her daughter. “It isn't material things I want. There's so much more involved here.”

Annie's eyes widened. “Mom, Dad's afraid.” She hesitated briefly. “Were you on the phone with Max the other morning when Dad came by?”

“What makes you ask?” She'd been careful not to let Grant know she was speaking to Max. He might have overheard but she doubted it.

“Dad said he thought you might've been.”

Bethanne didn't respond.

“It really threw him after the week in Florida.”

“Oh?” So all this house business had to do with Grant's insecurities. But until Andrew's wedding, her decision was on hold. Her first priority was seeing their son happily married. Only then would she address these uncomfortable issues.

“The cruise, the house—it's all a bit much,” she said.

Annie smiled. “Dad means well.”

Bethanne nodded. “I know.” She kept thinking about their meal at Zorba's. The recipes were the same as they'd been years ago, but the experience wasn't. Grant had wanted to recapture the past and his attempt had fallen short. Neither of them had acknowledged it, though. It might not be a good analogy, but Bethanne feared the same thing would happen with their relationship. Even if they both wanted a reconciliation to work, it might not. Too much time had passed. They no longer had the same interests or, she suspected,
the same values. Bethanne liked quiet evenings at home, reading and knitting. From what Grant had told her, he often went out nights, to network, meet with clients and make connections. She, too, was required to spend a certain number of evenings at work-related occasions, but more and more she preferred to be by herself or with family and friends.

Another thought had come involuntarily when Grant suggested Zorba's. Had he dined there with Tiffany? She didn't ask. For a moment, she'd felt a fresh stab of pain but then shoved it from her mind, determined to enjoy the dinner.

During their conversation, she'd realized that the Bethanne he wanted back was the old Bethanne, the woman who'd supported and encouraged him. She couldn't slip into that role again, nor did she want to. She had her own business now. Grant was ambitious; so was she. Frankly, she didn't know if there was enough room in a marriage for that much ambition.

“What are you thinking about?” Annie murmured.

Bethanne sighed. “I want it to work with your father, but I don't know if it will. Five or six years ago, I would've moved to the moon if Grant asked it of me. Not anymore, Annie. Seeing this house is a waste of time. I know it and so do you.”

Her daughter didn't say anything for a long moment. “You're right. I do.”

Still, some part of Bethanne must have been trying to please Grant; she'd agreed to view this property simply because he'd been excited about it.

“Do you want me to call Dad and tell him you're too busy?”

“No.” She weighed her options. Checking the time, she realized Grant was probably at his office already, waiting for her. “I'll go. Do you want to come with us?”

Annie's face instantly lit up. “I'd love it. Are you sure you don't mind?”

“I'm more than sure.” In truth, Bethanne welcomed the company. With Annie accompanying her, she might be able to avoid an awkward discussion with Grant.

They drove to Grant's office in their own cars. He greeted Annie and introduced the listing agent, Jonathan Randolph, who was going to show them the property. Annie rode with Jonathan, and Bethanne and Grant followed in his car.

“How was your day?” Grant asked as soon as they were alone.

“Frantic,” she said. “What about yours?”

“Also busy.” He glanced away from the road and smiled at her.

“You're going to love this house,” he said as they entered the circular driveway that led to the double front doors.

Just looking at it from the outside, Bethanne had to admit this was a stunning home. “This has got to be way beyond anything you…either of us could afford.”

Bethanne understood what Grant was doing. She hadn't been married to him all that time without knowing how his mind worked. He hoped once she saw the house she'd have a change of heart. He was counting on it.

And yet, after those same twenty years of marriage, Bethanne was astonished that he didn't know
her
better. She'd never longed for things. What mattered to her were the emotions and experiences they represented. Family night playing board games with their children, or a vacation that included Andrew and Annie, meant more than a diamond tennis bracelet or a pricey dinner.

“I know you love the old house,” Grant said, coming to stand at her side. “I realize you have no intention of moving. All I want you to do is look at this place.”

Annie was already out of Jonathan's car and eager to explore. Bethanne wished she shared Grant and Annie's enthusiasm.

True to her word, Bethanne toured the house. She had to agree it was everything Grant had claimed and more. The views of the lake and surrounding area were breathtaking. And the inside—had she designed a dream home it would have looked almost exactly like this. A huge walk-in closet, the washer and dryer on the second floor and a deck off the master bedroom.

Grant hardly said a word as Jonathan escorted them from room
to room, detailing the unique features, of which there were many. He waited until they were back in the car before he spoke.

“Well, what did you think?”

Bethanne took a moment to collect her thoughts. “You're right. It's perfect—”

“I knew you'd feel that way once you saw it,” he said, nearly exploding with enthusiasm.

“But—” she continued.

It was as if he hadn't heard her. “I could see your eyes light up every time Jonathan showed us another room, especially the kitchen. Didn't you love that huge gas stove? I have to tell you, Bethanne, I could just see you roasting our Thanksgiving turkey in that oven. Plus, the house is a steal and—”

“A steal?”

“Yes, the owner's been transferred and is anxious to sell. The house has been on the market nearly six months and he wants it to move. He's making double house payments, so he wouldn't reject any reasonable offer.”

Bethanne sympathized with the owner's predicament.

“I figure we could get the price down another ten percent,” Grant said. “Jonathan suggests, and I agree, that we go in low and be willing to dicker. Banks prefer twenty-five percent down, and I can handle that. I'll have to sell a few of my stocks, but I feel this house might be an even better investment than what I can expect to do in the market.”

“Then you should make that offer.”

“I plan to, but living here on my own won't mean a thing if you aren't with me.”

“Grant, please…”

“I'm not trying to pressure you, and I apologize if it feels that way.”

“I'd rather not discuss this now, all right?”

He looked crestfallen. “Okay. I hope we can start over, Bethanne, and I thought a complete break with the past would be best.”

“I'm not saying I don't want us to have a second chance,” she clarified, “but it's premature to make that decision. I told Max, and I'm telling you, I want to wait until after Andrew's wedding.”

“The old house is filled with memories,” Grant argued. “Some of them must be painful, particularly for you. The only reason I wanted you to see this house is so you'd know I'm willing to invest everything in creating a new life with you.”

“What you don't seem to understand,” Bethanne said, speaking slowly, hoping he'd listen and understand, “is that I risked everything when you left so I could keep the house. I was the one who held our family together. I kept up the house payments and started a business. At the beginning of each month I calculated how many parties I'd have to hold in order to get the mortgage payment in on time.”

“I know the first couple of years were rocky for you.”

“Rocky?”
The man didn't have a clue.

“Okay, I can see I stepped on a hornet's nest. How many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry?” he muttered, and she could see how difficult this was for him. Well, it was for her, too.

“So you don't want to move and start fresh,” he said. “Fine. We won't.”

She didn't know if he meant they wouldn't move or wouldn't start over, and she didn't ask. They drove back to his office in silence. The tension in the car was so high she almost expected the windows to shatter under the weight of it. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was incapable of freeing herself from the bitterness of his betrayal. She thought she had; she hoped she had. Apparently not.

Grant pulled into his assigned parking spot at the office and the two of them sat in the car. Neither seemed capable of moving. Bethanne hated the fact that they were fighting. When they were married, she was invariably the one who sought a reconciliation when they'd disagreed. Discord had always upset her.

“Bethanne,” Grant said after an awkward moment. “I spoke out of turn. I apologize.”

She took a shaky breath and forced herself to relax. “I do, too. I don't know why we lashed out at each other like that.”

He reached for her fingers and wrapped his own hand around hers. “I'll do whatever makes you happy. I thought—well, it doesn't matter what I thought. What's important is your happiness. If you're still dealing with issues about me, then that's understandable. I deserve it.”

“It isn't that…” Maybe it was, but only to a degree. “I don't want to give up my home.”

“Then we won't,” he said softly. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.