Close to Her Heart (13 page)

Last time Eliot had seen Lizbeth, she’d looked fashionable and attractive in her pregnant state. Today it seemed as if she’d given up all effort to look good. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun. And the gray color of her leggings and t-shirt did nothing to flatter her coloring. She’d worn no make-up or jewelry, not even her engagement ring, though she had kept on the wedding band.

She noticed him looking at it. “I’m wearing this to keep rumors quiet at work. A few people have noticed Nick and I aren’t driving to and from the office together anymore. But they’ve put it down to my pregnancy. Needing more sleep, that sort of thing. Although, probably there is some gossip flying. People always notice more than you think they do.”

She was, he thought, avoiding the main issue here. Yes, her husband had been deceitful about his vasectomy. But it did rather leave the question of who had fathered her child unanswered. “I’m glad Nick was finally open with you about his vasectomy. Is it safe to assume you reciprocated by being honest about the paternity of your baby?”

She looked annoyed. But she nodded. “It was just a one night thing. Nick had been so distant. And I was away on a business trip. Lonely.” She shrugged. “No excuse, I know. But at least my deception was just for one night. Nick’s been lying to me for years.”

As far as Eliot was concerned, deception was deception. The fact that neither one of them had been honest with each other about such important things told Eliot that this marriage might not be as salvageable as he’d once hoped.

“What about the man—the baby’s father? Have you spoken to him?”

“I wasn’t going to. But Nick, he insisted. Said he wouldn’t come to this meeting unless I did. So, I tracked the guy down and phoned him a few weeks ago. He’s married too and not looking for complications. He told me he’d pay support if I wanted. I said no. He said when my child is older, if she or he ever wants to meet him, he’d go along with that. But he doesn’t want to be a part of the child’s regular life.”

Eliot was finding it hard to feel compassion for his client. She seemed so—cold and unremorseful. But the next instant she was crying, covering her face with her hands. He found some tissues, then waited for her to calm down.

“I’m sorry. It’s awful, isn’t it? I can’t believe I did something so stupid. I’d never cheated on Nick before. And I never would have, again. I felt so icky afterward. Really, really icky.”

There was a tapping at the door, then. While Lizbeth pulled herself together, Eliot went to the door, waiting as Paige ushered Nick into the room. Unlike his wife, Nick hadn’t changed much from the last time Eliot saw him. Except, while his wife had been gaining weight and substance with her baby, Nick had been losing. His suit looked baggy, and his face gaunt.

“Hey, Nick.” Eliot shook his hand, then stepped back to allow the married couple to address one another. Their “Hi’s” were subdued, and this time Nick refused Eliot’s offer of a beverage, instead taking a seat opposite from his wife’s.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Paige asked. Her blonde hair was pulled back in her customary ponytail and she was wearing a cornflower-blue dress, with shoes and jewelry a contrasting, sunshiny yellow.

“No thanks. We’re fine for now.” He gave her a thankful smile before closing the door behind her.

Nick and Lizbeth were avoiding eye contact. But they were clearly nervous and on edge around one another. Eliot was hopefully that they were done with yelling stage. It was one of the reasons he’d suggested so many weeks lapse between their meetings. Given the huge revelation Nick had made last time, a cooling-off period had seemed wise.

“Okay,” Eliot said. Time to step into the ring. “Thanks for coming. You two have been through some tough months. I like to think you’ve finally been honest with one another. Because it’s always good to have the facts before you make a decision. And divorce is a mighty big decision.”

He noticed they both winced when he said
divorce.
A good sign. “You guys know I’m not a marriage counselor. I still think you would both benefit by seeing one, though.”

“No way.” Nick spoke up immediately. “This is good. We’re talking. We’re being honest. What more could a counsellor do?”

“Probably a lot more. For one thing, a counselor would probably want you, Nick, to tell Lizbeth why you had that vasectomy without telling her.”

Nick rested his forearms on his legs and leaned toward his wife. “You know both my dad and grandfather died of early onset Alzheimers.”

She nodded.

“I’ve always felt fatalistic about my chances of getting it, too. But when you started talking about babies, it got me thinking. I didn’t want to bring a child into the world knowing I might pass along the genes for that effing disease.”

“Oh, Nick. I wish you’d told me about this.”

“And I wish you hadn’t slept with some random guy you met at a conference.”

Lizbeth had been leaning forward in her chair, her expression softening and warming. But this last comment from her husband had her physically and emotionally pulling back.

“Right.” She snapped back. “I wonder why I strayed, when I was getting so much love and affection from my husband.”

“That’s what happens when you decide to take a company public. A move you voted in favor of, remember?”

“Hang on,” Eliot interrupted. Fortunately they both calmed down immediately and looked at him. He pointed at his chest. “Not a marriage counsellor, remember? You guys need to take this home. And talk.”

Nick shook his head. “Oh, what’s the point? We all know how this is going to end.”

Lizbeth looked as if she was holding her breath, as her husband turned away from her. Nick didn’t even say goodbye when he left the room.

Worried about Lizbeth, Eliot offered her a glass of water, but she declined.

“He’s angry now.” She gathered her purse, then worked her way out of her seat. “But we will talk. Later. When he’s cooled down.”

Eliot escorted her to the elevators, feeling disheartened. They’d both been deceptive. Never a good thing in a marriage. Despite that, he suspected they still loved one another. The question was whether they could also forgive.

Chapter Four

July

“Y
ou should have gone for the testing. Found out whether you’re having a boy or girl.”

Miriam and Dani were in Pottery Barn, trying to decide on a color scheme for the baby’s room.

At almost seven months pregnant, Dani was starting to feel large. Her baby bump was now a perch large enough for her to rest her hands on. “How about we stick to off-white for now? I can add touches of color after the baby is born. With stuffed animals and pictures and things.”

“Brilliant. I like that idea.”

Dani felt rather proud. When shopping with Miriam, it wasn’t often that she came up with the right answer. She called for a sales clerk to assist, and soon had an order for a rocking chair with a cream slip cover, and a beautiful sleigh-bed style crib. Next she and Miriam selected bedding for the crib, a circular rug for the floor and a change table.

“That’s enough for one day.” Dani felt decidedly poorer after leaving the store.

“Oh, no. Baby clothes, next,” Miriam insisted. “But we can stop for some lunch if you want a rest.”

They ate at an outside patio, where they could enjoy the warmth of the summer sun, while the ocean breeze kept them from getting too hot. Dani had a Cobb salad and a decaffeinated iced latte.

Miriam ordered the same salad, in a half-sized portion, and a regular iced latte. When the food arrived, however, she simply picked at it.

Dani wondered if she was worried about something. “Have your parents given up trying to convince you to move back to Vancouver?”

“I wish.”

“Well, you’re over twenty-one. They can’t force you to move. Can they?”

“If I was making enough money to support myself, I’d agree with you. Unfortunately, I’m not.” she shrugged.

“Tell me more about the work you do.” All she knew was that Miriam designed book covers and edited manuscripts for authors who were self-publishing electronically. “What kind of clients do you have? Would I enjoy any of their books?”

Miriam gave a dramatic sigh. “I don’t have clients. The truth is, I’ve been self-publishing my own books.”

“You’re an author yourself? That’s amazing!”

“Not really. My books aren’t selling very well. And most of the reviews I’ve had on Amazon have been terrible.”

“Oh.” It was hard to know what to say to that. “But, do you enjoy writing them? Because if you do—”

“I don’t. Not really. They’re hard core erotica. When I saw the money that woman who wrote
Shades Of Grey
was making, I figured, how hard can it be to write a book like that? Turns out it’s plenty hard.”

So like Miriam to look for the easy way. Marry a rich American. Write a bestselling book. Those were both ways to get a lot of money. But what was she really passionate about?

“Have you ever considered you might be writing in the wrong genre.” Dani knew that what Miriam enjoyed reading were thriller and spy stories, with a bit of horror and paranormal thrown in.

“Probably. But—I’m scared to try something I really care about. Because, what if I’m not good at that, either?”

It was strange logic, but Dani understood it. Failing at something you didn’t care about wasn’t as awful as failing at something you did.

She thought of Adrian and their failed relationship. She hadn’t seen him since that night they’d made love then broken up. Nor had she answered any of his text messages or emails. But she did read them and in the last one he’d told her he was taking Ava and the nanny for a month visit to Colorado to spend time with the grandparents. He hadn’t asked how she was doing. In fact, she was pretty sure he didn’t even know when her due date was.

She hadn’t replied.

“Maybe you should try taking some writing courses,” she suggested, trying to re-focus on Miriam. “And start work on a project that really interests you.”

“I’ll think about it.” Miriam ate a few mouthfuls of her meal, and then set down her fork. “Don’t tell Eliot about any of this okay? I’d hate for him to mock me about my awful books.”

“I don’t think he would. But of course I won’t tell him, if you don’t want me to.” But the request did get Dani thinking about the other night on the roof-top when Miriam had suggested marrying Eliot. When Eliot had reacted with shock, she’d immediately pretended it was a joke.

But maybe Miriam really did like him. Perhaps dating all those other guys had been just like her writing erotica stories. She’d been afraid to go after the man who really mattered.

*

The next Friday evening the three friends gathered at Eliot’s place. Though she never would have admitted it out loud for fear of hurting Miriam’s feelings, Dani loved getting together at Eliot’s the best. For a man, he had a great ability to make a house feel like a home, and everything in his condo—the furniture, the pictures, even his collection of Native American sculpture—reflected some facet of his personality.

Plus, he had an amazing CD collection.

Dani squirreled into her favorite corner of the sectional as he whipped together his latest virgin cocktail creation while Miriam transferred the appetizers she’d picked up at Pike’s Market onto a special blue plate that Eliot had pulled out and insisted she use.

For a straight guy, Eliot had great taste.

Assuming he was straight. Dani realized he hadn’t mentioned any new girlfriends for some time now. When he handed her a peachy-colored drink in a fancy glass garnished with a slice of apricot, she popped the fruit into her mouth then decided to try the direct approach. “So, what’s new with you?”

He seemed surprised that she’d asked. “You mean besides breaking up families and skimming off my share of the communal property?”

“You make your job sound so appealing. Have you ever thought of career counselling?”

“No. But I might just go into marriage counselling one day.”

“That sounds interesting.” Miriam set the tray of artfully arranged tapas on the cocktail table. “I take it you’re trying to talk more of your clients into staying married?”

“I wish I could tell you the whole story. Unfortunately that wouldn’t be ethical.”

“Ethics are so boring.” Miriam rolled her eyes as she sat.

“Tell me about it,” he agreed, taking a spot between them.

“So if you can’t talk to us about your work, let’s talk about your love life.” Dani nudged him with her toe. “You don’t seem to be taking as many personal phone calls these days. Dry spell?”

“I haven’t had a date in—months,” he said, looking more surprised than anyone. “I must be losing my touch.”

“Or maybe you’re saving yourself for our Green Card Wedding.” Miriam raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Eliot gave her a look that suggested not in a million years. He was so clearly not interested, that Dani felt a little sorry for Miriam.

“I suggest you try reconciling yourself to being Canadian. Lots of people would love to live in Canada,” Eliot said reasonably.

“But it’s so cold.”