Celebration (15 page)

Kristine galloped down the hall and then down the steps in her rush to get to the storage room to search for an empty carton. Logan Kelly was not going to take up one more inch of space in her house if she could help it. She picked the first box from a pile and galloped back up the steps. She dumped the contents of the window seat any old way into the cardboard carton.
This is the end of it,
she thought.
Once this part of my life is put into storage, I can start fresh. Is that before or after you write your final chapter?
A niggling voice queried.
Before, after, now, what difference does it make? I'll do it when the time is right. The bottom line is I'm going to do it. I won't look back either, because the past is prologue
.
So there, Logan.

Forty minutes later, after moving the heavy carton, one step at a time, down the long, steep staircase, she dragged and pushed it to the farthest corner of the old storage room. She didn't label it, but she did pile other boxes on top of it so she wouldn't have to see it every time she came into the room to search for something. She had just done what she never thought she would be able to do, and it was over. She felt so light-headed she had to reach for the doorjamb to steady herself.

In the kitchen, Kristine washed the coffeepot. Unlike people who drank tea when things went awry, she drank coffee. Pots and pots of coffee. The coffee would help her get through the mountain of paperwork on her desk.

Pete opened the screen door and poked his head inside. “I could use some coffee about now. I saw that, Kristine. Fig Newtons are not good for dogs. They probably aren't good for humans, either.”

“You eat them by the bagful, Pete. It's a treat. They're my dogs and my Fig Newtons. The coffee is perking.”

“Do you want me to go to the bank this afternoon to deposit the Olsens' check? We didn't deposit Carter or Wainwright's checks last week either.”

Should she pass up the perfect excuse to go to the bank tomorrow when she went into town to meet Jack Valarian? She'd just march into Woodie's office and say . . . what? I
mas a fool. I'm sorry. I really do care for you. I want to share that life you were talking about.
Then she could tell him she had moved Logan to the storage room where he belonged. She eyeballed the vet. “I have to go into town tomorrow morning. I'll do it then.”

“So are you going to help that guy or what?” Pete demanded.

“I think so. I went up to the attic, and there's a trunk full of books and journals. It was too hot to go through it. He can come out some evening when it's cooler and do it. Let him pass out from the heat.”

“And what do you get out of this? I know you, Kristine. Your brain is whirling. Let me guess. It's a trade-off. You want him to help you find your husband. He's a reporter, so that means he has access to all kinds of stuff. How am I doing so far?”

Kristine turned her back on Pete. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“As a matter of fact I was. The window was open. I came up for coffee but decided to turn around and go back. As a friend who cares about you, Kristine, I'm telling you to let it go. You're just opening yourself up to more heartache. If Woodie finds out, he won't take it well. He will find out. Stuff like this always gets out.”

“Come with me, Pete. I want to show you something.”

Gracie and Slick raced ahead, their tiny paws barely skimming the slick wooden floor.

“You want to show me the storeroom. Jeez, Kristine, what do you want me to look for this time? We need to get you some kind of system, you know—stuff you use, stuff you don't use, etc. etc.”

“See that huge box in the corner with all the other stuff piled on top of it.”

“Yeah. What's in it?”

“Logan. That box is all that is left of Logan Kelly. I cleared out everything. I brought it down the steps one at a time and dragged it in here. I cleared him out of my house.”

“What good is that, Kristine, if he's still in your heart?” Pete asked gently.

“I can't carve him out of my heart, Pete. Asking Mr. Valarian's people to help is the very last thing I'm going to do. I couldn't live with myself if I let the opportunity pass. I want to be able to say I did everything I could. I need closure, Pete.”

“Of course you do,” Pete said, putting his arms around Kristine's shoulders. “Let's hope it works. Are you going to tell Woodie?”

“I haven't heard from Woodie for three weeks. He wants ... he expects ... he doesn't understand,” Kristine said, her face miserable.

“He's a stand-up guy, Kristine.”

“I know that. I have to be able to live with myself, Pete. If it means losing Woodie, then I will have to live with that, too.”

“For God's sake, call the guy already.”

“The guy is supposed to call the girl. You know that, Pete.”

“Each situation is different. Girls call me all the time. I love it. It makes me feel important. Is that why you're taking the checks to the bank tomorrow?”

“I felt ... feel like it will give me a ... reason. A bona fide reason. I have some pride left, Pete.”

“Do you love Woodie, Kristine?”

Kristine nodded, her face more miserable than before. “I never told him I did. I wanted to, but I couldn't get the words past my lips. He gave me an ultimatum. I hate ultimatums. Most women I know do not do well with ultimatums, and I am no exception. That's why I haven't called him. I recognize the fact that I literally owe him my life, but that doesn't mean he can dictate to me. Logan did that to me. I cannot and will not let that happen to me again.”

“So, just bumping into him at the bank, maybe, will make things all right?” Pete asked skeptically.

“Probably not, but it's all I have going for me at the moment. If it doesn't work, then I'll switch to Plan B.”

“Which is?”

“I have no clue. When I do, you will be the first to know. Coffee's ready. Let's drop it for now, okay?”

“Sure.”

“What shall we toast here? It seems kind of appropriate, don't you think?”

“To Gracie and Slick and may you run out of Fig Newtons!” Pete said, an evil grin spreading over his features.

At the sound of the magic words, both Gracie and Slick sat up on their haunches, panting and waiting, their eyes on Pete.

“Okay, okay, just this once,” Pete said.

“Yeah, that's what I said, too.” Kristine laughed. “Now they are Fig Newton addicts.”

It was good to hear her laugh, Pete thought as he broke one of the Newtons in two. Really good.

 

 

It didn't seem right, Kristine thought, that a man could be so ugly, have such suspicious eyes, and yet have a gentle voice.

“Jack filled me in, Mrs. Kelly. It's almost four years. If there ever was a trail, it's cold by now. I'll put out some feelers, do a little calling around on my own, but I don't hold out much hope. In cases like this we usually follow the money, but Swiss banks are so buttoned up it's mostly a waste of time. I'll do what I can, but I want you to know I think it's going to be fruitless. The deal is, if I understand Jack, I help you, regardless of the results, and you give him access to your property and any books and journals. The Kelly farm, too. Is that right?” Andrew Pomeroy said.

Kristine nodded.

“It's going to take some time.”

“How much time?” Kristine asked.

“We're calling in favors here. No one moves fast on favors. Now if money was being paid out, it would be different. People react to money when it comes at the end of a job.”

“Are you saying you want money?” Kristine demanded.

“No. I said it was going to be slow because no money is changing hands. I'll be the one calling you. I don't want you pestering me, is that understood?”

“Fine,” Kristine snapped.

“It's settled then,” Jack said. “When can I come out to the house?”

“I'd suggest going through the attic at night after the sun goes down. It's hot as hell up there. I almost passed out. I can show you exactly where the trunks are, then you might want to carry the books down to the first floor. The steamer trunks probably weigh more than the contents. The attic steps are narrow and steep. You can start tonight, if you like. I don't know if there are any blueprints of the house or not. I also do not know if there's anything in the Kelly attic. I've never been on the second floor, much less the attic.”

Kristine finished her wonton soup. She watched in amazement as a giant sizzling platter was set in the middle of the table. “If you gentlemen don't mind, I have some errands to run. Enjoy your lunch. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Pomeroy.”

“Likewise, Mrs. Kelly.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Kristine knew she was forgotten. She watched a moment as the senior reporter loaded his luncheon plate with the crisp vegetables and rice.

“I'll be out tonight around seven, Mrs. Kelly,” Jackson said.

“I'll see you then.”

Her heart hammering in her chest, Kristine drove to the bank. Instead of going in the front entrance, she drove around to the back to park in the shade. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this jittery. Probably when she was a teenager and dating Logan, who was always late for dates. She was checking her makeup in the rearview mirror when she saw Woodie and a beautiful young woman walk toward his car. They were both laughing, his arm around her shoulder. Her heart thudding in her chest, she continued to watch as Woodie held the door for the striking blond woman. Fashionable. Chic. Pricey outfit. Sun-glitzed hair. Gorgeous tan. Then the man she thought she would spend the rest of her days with walked around to the driver's side of the car, the wide smile still on his face.

Kristine threw herself across the wide front seat of the station wagon when it appeared Woodie was going to exit the parking lot the way she had driven in.

Kristine cried her misery all the way back to the farm.

“Whoa. What have we here, guys?” Pete said as he pushed the baseball cap that was always on his head farther back to observe Kristine barreling down the driveway. When she skidded to a stop, dust spiraled upward in decorative designs. He continued to watch as she slammed the door of the station wagon and ran to the house, taking the steps on the front porch two at a time. “I don't know this for a fact, Gracie, but I'd say off the top of my head, something ain't right. What say we check it out,” Pete said to the little dog nestling in the pocket of his plastic apron.

Pete loped up the long path from the barn to the back porch, where he watched Kristine reach for a wine bottle that always sat on the kitchen counter.
Don't do it, Kristine. Please, don't do it.
He continued to watch as a gambit of emotions registered on his employer's face. When her shoulders slumped and she reached for the coffeepot, he knew she wasn't going to give in to the temptation to take a drink. Kristine was one tough lady. He silently applauded her.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked through the screen door.

“No. Yes. There's nothing to talk about.”

“If there's nothing to talk about, then why do you look like you lost your best friend? Why were you tempted to take a drink? Why are you shaking like that? Sit down. I'll make the coffee. Two heads are better than one.”

“I hate men,” Kristine said bitterly. “You can't trust them any farther than you can throw them. They lie, they cheat, they steal from you. I hate them.”

“Consider me an overgrown boy,” Pete said flippantly. “Are we talking about Logan here or Woodie or that guy from the newspaper?”

“What's the difference?” Kristine snapped. “Put them in a bag, shake them up, and they come out the same. I swear to God, I will never trust another man as long as I live.”

“I think you need to explain that statement, Kristine. If it's your intention to lump me in with the gruesome threesome, I'm outta here.”

“Not you, Pete. It probably isn't even them. It's me. I'm dumb, I'm stupid, and I can't get a handle on things. Just when I think I'm making some kind of progress, bam, I'm back to square one. Do you see some kind of invisible sign on my forehead, Pete, that says, Kristine deserves to be made miserable?

Pete dropped to his haunches to take Kristine's hands in his own. Behind him he could hear the cheerful plop, plop of the water dripping into the pot. “Let's take it from the top, Kristine. It's entirely possible you are overreacting. Taking the step to finally move hogan's things into the storage room has left you feeling vulnerable. Now, tell me what happened.”

Kristine told him. “She was beautiful, Pete. Drop-dead gorgeous. Younger than me. It was the way Woodie had his arm around her shoulders. He was smiling from ear to ear. He looked happy, like he didn't have a care in the world. I've been so damn miserable. I haven't slept through the night since I returned from New York.”

“Kristine, the woman was probably a bank customer and Woodie was taking her to lunch. Bankers do that when they want your money. It's all part of the game. It's called business.”

“No. They were too familiar with each other. I saw how they looked at each other. It's not my imagination. I was there, Pete.”

“All it will take is one phone call to clear it up. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Woodie is too nice a guy to do what you think he's doing.”

“I thought Logan was a nice guy, too. Woodie's another one who sees dollar signs where I'm concerned.”

“Kristine, Woodie is loaded. He doesn't need your money. You're off the track here.”

“Yeah, right. He told me his wife took just about everything he had. That doesn't sound to me like he's loaded. Money does awful things to people. How could I be so wrong? Not just once but twice. I'm going to make a phone call all right. I'm moving my trust and my accounts to Anchor Savings. That's the phone call I'm going to make.”

“Don't do it today, Kristine. Wait till tomorrow when you've calmed down. It never pays to do things recklessly. I know there is an explanation for all this. You aren't being fair if you don't give Woodie a chance to explain.”

“Do you see him calling me, Pete? Well, do you?”

“You said you would call him. You can't switch up now. You were holding the ball, and you know it. In three weeks you have not called him the way you said you would. What the hell do you think he's been thinking? Maybe the woman was a cousin or a sister.”

“He doesn't have any cousins or sisters,” Kristine snapped.

Pete's voice turned stubborn. “I know there's an explanation. It also occurs to me to wonder if you aren't taking this as a way out now that you committed to the reporter and his buddy. Are you secretly hoping the guy can find Logan? Let's just assume for the sake of argument that they find him. Do you want him back after what he did to you? Hope springs eternal, Kristine. You're off the hook now where Woodie is concerned. Now you can go back to pining away for your husband.”

“That's bullshit, Pete.”

“And she has a temper,” Pete said as he poured coffee into two mugs. “Call Woodie, tell him you saw him and the woman. Ream him out and wait for his response. Then make a decision. For some reason, I don't see him lying to you. Do it, Kristine.”

“Whose side are you on, Pete?”

“I'm on yours. That's why I want you to call him. Just do it, Kristine. If you don't, you could ruin something wonderful. It's one phone call.”

Kristine reached behind her for the telephone. She dialed the number of the bank. “Mr. Dunwoodie, please. This is Kristine Kelly,” she said, her voice shaking. She listened for a moment before she replaced the phone. “Mr. Dunwoodie won't be back until tomorrow morning. He decided to take the afternoon off. Is there anything else you want me to do, Pete?”

Pete grappled for a reply. “He might have gone to the dentist. Maybe he had a doctor's appointment. Hell, maybe he went fishing. It's not the end of the world. Don't read something into this that isn't there, Kristine.”

“Pete, if Mr. Dunwoodie decides to return my phone call, tell him I'm out of town. I won't view you favorably if you try to play matchmaker. I will consider it betrayal on your part, and then I'll have to fire you. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, ma'am. What if he shows up?”

“Close the gate out front. It's that simple. I'm going upstairs. I have some paperwork to take care of. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? Go riding or go into town and take some nice girl out to dinner. I'll be fine. There's nothing pressing going on. The dogs are okay. I'll take care of the feeding this evening. If you're worrying that I'll take a drink, don't. I'm not that weak-willed person I used to be.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure. Take her some flowers.”

“Okay, I will.”

Kristine smiled. “Thanks for listening, Pete.”

“Are you keeping Gracie and Slick up here?”

“Yes. Make sure you lower the gate when you leave.”

“Then I guess I'll see you in the morning.”

“Take your time. I'll be here.”

Kristine watched as Pete hopped into his Ford Bronco. He tooted the horn, two snappy blasts of sound as he careened down the road to the highway.

The old house was tomb-quiet as Kristine cuddled the two small dogs in her arms. Then it erupted with sound as hard, driving sobs tore at her body. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Gracie tried valiantly to lick at the salty tears as Slick tried to burrow deeper into the crook of her arm. She knew she was frightening the little animals, but it was the only way she knew to release the misery engulfing her.

A long time later, when there were no more tears to shed, Kristine crooned to the tiny dogs in her lap as she stroked their silky fur. They slept, having weathered their mistress's storm.

 

 

Woodie suffered through the obligatory kiss on the cheek. How well he remembered the heady scent of his ex-wife's perfume. If he remembered correctly, he was the one who gave her the sinful fragrance.

“You look happy, Aaron.”

“That's because I am happy. It's been a long road, Maureen. Are you sure now that you're doing the right thing? You've only known the man a little less than two months. Is that enough time to get to know him and accept his proposal? On top of that, he's
old.
Seventy-two is old, Maureen.”

“I know,” Maureen said sweetly. “I rather thought you would be glad. No more alimony. I'll be moving away. You won't have to pretend you like me for other people's benefit. Besides, he's filthy rich.”

“It always comes down to money with you, doesn't it?”

“You know what they say, darlin', you can never be too thin or too rich. I love money. Actually, I adore money. He doesn't even want a prenup. He's my kind of guy. Did I tell you he has some serious ailments? He does. I promised to take care of him. By that I mean, I'll oversee the help, you know, nurses, aides, that sort of thing. I'll read to him, go for drives with him, we'll have breakfast and dinner together. He doesn't have high expectations where I'm concerned. In short, he can't get it up, Aaron.”

In spite of himself, Woodie laughed. “I guess you really did step into it. When are you leaving?”

“Day after tomorrow. I just came by to close out my savings account. At the last minute I decided to leave twenty dollars in it. Who knows, I might come back here someday and need an active account. This way I won't have to go through all that paperwork you insist on when someone opens a new account. If I don't come back, the bank is twenty dollars richer.

“It was nice of you to suggest lunch. Do you believe it? We're actually being civil to one another. I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for you, sweetie.”

“Exactly where are you going to be living?” Woodie asked.

“For starters we're going to Paris. Health permitting, we'll travel all over the world. When you have unlimited wealth you can do things like that. Stedman has homes all over the world. I cannot believe how lucky I am. Just yesterday we were in New York shopping. I bought out the stores. Stedman has his own private jet. It was loaded when we came back last night. I bought six Channel bags, and he didn't blink an eye. It is mind-boggling, darlin'. Will you listen to me go on and on. Tell me what's going on with you.”

“I'm leaving the bank at the end of the year.”

“Are you going to live in that ghastly wooden house with all those windows?”

“For the time being. I happen to love that ghastly wooden house with all those windows. I might even get married next year. Who knows, I might take the plunge over the holidays.”

“Tell me all about her,” Maureen cooed.

“Are those fingernails your own?” Woodie asked as he stared at the scarlet tips of his wife's fingers. Kristine's nails were short, clear and shiny.

“Absolutely not. These eyelashes aren't mine, either. Sweetie, Stedman paid through the nose for this costly makeover. I know you don't know much about women, but once you hit forty, you start to
droop.
In all the wrong places. I've been nipped and tucked, sliced and diced from one end to the other. I could pass for twenty-nine instead of forty-one. Everyone says so. I don't know why I'm bothering to tell you all this. What do you think, Aaron?”

“Actually, Maureen, you look the same to me.”

“You're trying to sidetrack me. Tell me about your girlfriend. You must need glasses,” she sniffed.

“Kristine is not a girl. She's a woman. She moved back here three years ago and started to breed show dogs the way her parents did.”

“Is she the one whose husband disappeared with all her money? Don't look at me like that, Aaron. Everyone in town has heard that story. I also heard she was on the sauce for a while and that she bounced checks all over the place. It's a small town, Aaron, where nothing happens. They love to chitter in the beauty shops. Is she the one?”

“Don't believe what you hear, Maureen. Those same people who chitter in the beauty shop chittered about you when you helped yourself to their money at the bank.”

“Oh, phooey, Aaron. You made that all come out right. You never should have trusted me with the bank account. You know I have no head for numbers.”

Woodie laughed again. “Does Stedman know how bad you are with money?”

“Absolutely. He thought that bank business was hysterical. Be sure to send me a wedding invitation. Stedman loves it when I send presents to people and sign both our names. I really have to be going, Aaron. Thanks for lunch and, you know what, it's nice to see you smile again. The first couple of weeks we were married were good, weren't they?”

“That's because we never came out of the bedroom. Once we opened the door it was all over. Be happy, Maureen.”

“You too, Aaron. What does she call you?”

“Woodie.”

“That's such a
bubba
name. Oh, well, to each his own. Don't forget to send me a wedding invitation. Who knows, we might even show up for the wedding.”

“Please don't. Kristine would never understand someone like you.”

Maureen laughed, a musical sound that sent chills up and down Woodie's arms as it wafted upward in the light summer breeze. He shivered even though the temperature was in the high eighties. He couldn't help but wonder if what he was feeling was a harbinger of things to come.