Riding the Pause (14 page)

“It is a big deal, Rachel. It’s a very big deal to me. It’s not how I do business.”

“It’s how everyone does business, Ian. If you want to
stay
in business. You do the work; they pay you. It’s a simple relationship.” As he watched the sweet Rachel who cooed nonsense to his dog turned into the ice queen he’d seen when he first met her. Still beautiful but cold and a little ruthless.

“Please tell me you didn’t call Smithfield Galleries and threaten Mrs. Smithfield with legal action.”

“I didn’t have to,” she said, and for a second he relaxed a fraction of an inch. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. “She didn’t fight me at all. I told her what she owed and she agreed right away. She seemed confused at first, but she didn’t dispute anything. She said she’d put a check in the mail right away. If it isn’t here by the middle of next week, I’ll call her again.”

“No,” he said, jumping to his feet. “No more phone calls.”

“I know it has to be hard for you to make collection calls, but she’s been sitting on your money for six months. It was past time to do something about it. She said to tell you the peach cobbler was a standing offer. I assume you know what she meant. She really was okay.”

“No, Rachel she wasn’t. She was
sitting on my money
because that’s the way I wanted it.”  He threw her words back at her and saw her flinch, but he couldn’t stop. Not until she understood what she’d done. “Since her husband died, she’s had a hard time keeping up with things. She didn’t pay me because she couldn’t afford to, and I didn’t push her because I know she needs the money more than I do. Except now she thinks that when I told her not to worry about it I was just being nice before I sent you to shake her down. You roughed up a widow and used my name to do it.”

“Ian, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But I wasn’t mean to her. She didn’t sound upset.”

He grabbed a fistful of his hair, tightening his grip until he felt the sting that helped him hold his temper in check. Maybe he could call Mrs. Smithfield and tell her not to worry about it. That it had all been a big mistake, because it had been. It felt like everything was closing in on him, and that once again nothing was the way he thought it was. He went to sit at his desk and thumbed through the invoices until he found Mrs. Smithfield’s number.

“I should go,” said Rachel.

“I think that’s best,” he said, knowing he was being an ass and not able to stop himself.

He pictured Mrs. Smithfield thinking he put Rachel up to calling, and he kept getting angrier. He hated that it happened to her in the first place and hated it even more that she might think he was behind it. Grabbing the phone, he dialed the gallery number. It was the only one he had for her, and he didn’t think she’d still be there, but maybe she’d hear the message before she spent the night worrying.

As the answering machine picked up, he heard Rachel go out the front door, but he didn’t turn to say good-bye. He didn’t trust himself to say anything to her.

“Mrs. Smithfield, it’s Ian Maxwell,” he said when he heard the beep. “There’s been a mistake. My assistant got confused. I don’t want you to worry about sending me the money. You and I already have an agreement. Anyway, don’t think about it anymore. I’m not going to. We can work it out when I get a chance to come for some of that peach cobbler of yours. Let me know if you need anything.”

He hung up the phone, hoping he’d done enough. When he turned and saw the remnants of their dinner and no sign of Rachel, he was afraid he’d done too much.

Rachel made it to the end of Ian’s road before she gave into the tears. She couldn’t have driven her car around the ruts with her vision blurred, but as soon as she reached the paved road, she pulled over and let the sobs shake her body. She hadn’t meant to overstep, and she certainly hadn’t meant to shake down a widow lady. All she’d been trying to do was help.

She saw something that needed to be done and she did it. Maybe she didn’t think things the whole way through. She’d certainly misjudged Ian’s reaction, but her intentions had been good. It didn’t matter anymore. What it did do was make it clear that there really wasn’t a place for her. She’d been playing house with Ian, but that’s all it had been – playing. It was time for her to get her life back on track and decide how to move forward. She’d hidden out in the woods long enough.

Rubbing her hands over her eyes to wipe away her tears, she took a deep shaky breath and pulled her phone from her pocket. She blinked hard until she could see the small screen and then she typed the email that would be the first step into the next chapter of her life. Satisfied if not happy, she hit send and turned the car back toward town and her temporary makeshift apartment.

The call went straight to voicemail again and Ian blew out a frustrated breath. He knew he’d been too hard on Rachel. She’d just been trying to help. He got that. And he’d been mad, and acted badly. He’d been more worried about how Mrs. Smithfield felt than Rachel which admittedly made him a jerk, but that was no reason for her to keep avoiding his calls. He couldn’t tell her he was sorry for how he’d reacted if she wouldn’t talk to him.

He’d been trying to get a hold of her all morning. He hadn’t gotten a thing done in the workshop and Apollo was moping around looking at Ian like he knew what an ass he’d been. Enough was enough. If Rachel wouldn’t pick up her phone, he’d go around her. The only questions were would Adam be more likely to help him over the phone or in person, and if he saw him in person would he try to pound him for messing with his sister?

Definitely phone. He dialed the number for the precinct and went through the dispatch guy. After a few rings, Adam picked up the other end of the line, and Ian was so grateful someone answered he forgot he was supposed to be treading lightly with Rachel’s brother.

“It’s Ian. I’m trying to find Rachel. She’s not answering her phone.”

“That probably means she doesn’t want to talk to you.” Adam didn’t tack
asshole
on the end but Ian could practically hear him thinking it.

Nice, he was pissing off Southerlands everywhere he went.

“I made a mistake.” Best to opt for honesty. Adam was a guy. He should be able to relate, even if Rachel was his sister. “I want to fix it, but I can’t if she won’t talk to me. Do you know where she is?” He grabbed his keys from the hook by the door. As soon as Adam told him where to find her he’d go and tell her he was sorry, and they’d figure this out. Just because they were very different people didn’t mean they couldn’t find common ground. They’d done it before. “I’ll come to her. Just tell me where she is.”

“Ian, she’s gone,” Adam said with pity in his voice. “She left for Charlottesville this morning.”

“When will she be back?” he asked, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“She’s not coming back. Not right away anyway. She got a job. I thought she would have told you.”

Still clutching his keys, Ian sat down in his desk chair, and Apollo lifted his head to look at him. “I thought she would, too. If you talk to her, would you tell her I called? She has to know. I’ve left messages, but maybe it will matter more if she hears it from you.”

“Okay, man, but I’m her brother. She’s not all that likely to listen to me.”

Reeling from the fact that she was gone and that she hadn’t bothered to say good-bye again, Ian went to hang up the phone. Before he made it to the cradle, it started to ring.

“Hello,” he said, hoping irrationally that Rachel had a change of heart and was returning his call.

“Ian?”

“Mrs. Smithfield? Is that you?”

“Yes,” she said, sounding clear and not traumatized. Maybe he could sort things out with Mrs. Smithfield and then figure out what to do about Rachel.

“Did you get my message?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand. I already worked things out with that lovely girl who called me yesterday.”

“That was a mistake. She wasn’t supposed to call you.”

“Why on earth not? I owe you the money. Don’t you argue with me,” she said when he started to interrupt her. “Things are a little hectic here today, but like I told your young lady, I’ll drop a check in the mail at the post office on my way home. Now I have to go. You bring your young lady and that big black dog to see me soon.”

Ian barely got out a mumbled good bye before she hung up on him.
His young lady
. Yeah, that part had worked out just great, but he wondered what Rachel had said to Mrs. Smithfield to make her think they were together. The older woman didn’t sound worried. She sounded busy – too busy to stay on the phone explaining things to him – but not upset.

None of it made sense to him, but he didn’t want Mrs. Smithfield sending him her grocery money to pay for his furniture. He looked from the phone to his watch to the keys in his hand. It took about four hours to get to the Smithfield’s gallery. If he left right away he could probably be there before she left for the day. At least he’d stand a chance of getting things sorted with one of the women in his life.

“Come on, Apollo. We’re going on a road trip.”

Rachel carried the last cardboard box into her tiny apartment. It was a far cry from the condo she’d sold, but there hadn’t been many short term options available on such quick notice. It wasn’t like she needed much, just a place to crash after work. It was only her; she didn’t even have a cat to keep her company. She thought of Artemis, winding around her legs and Apollo’s cold wet nose, and something in her chest tightened. Taylor came through the door, holding armfuls of clothes, and Rachel shoved her thoughts of Ian and the animals to the side to deal with later.

“I think this is the last of it,” she said, dropping the clothes on the small ugly couch before collapsing beside it. “Are you sure you want to do this?” She glanced around the room with its worn furniture and generic artwork.

“I know it’s awful, but it’s just until I get settled in at work and have a chance to find something more permanent.”

“It is really bad,” said Taylor, giving the place another once over. “But that’s not what I was talking about. I meant the job, moving, everything.”

She didn’t say Ian’s name but Rachel knew she was thinking it. When she’d told Taylor about the new job and asked for her help with the move, her sister had grilled her about Ian and what happened. Rachel tried to put her off by saying things hadn’t worked out, but Taylor didn’t give up easily. It was only a matter of time before the questions started again. As glad as she was for her sister’s company, she didn’t want to talk about Ian. The pain of missing him was too raw.

“I’m sure,” she said, not at all certain she was. Instead of the excitement she expected to feel about the new job and new opportunities, she felt tired, but there was nothing to be gained by dwelling on it.

“I hope you change your mind,” said Taylor, sitting on the sofa with her feet tucked underneath her, looking younger than her twenty-five years. “I liked having you home. I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll be home again soon,” she said, but they both knew it was a lie. Once she started her job with Peter on Monday it would be back on the treadmill of sixty hour workweeks and cancelling family dinners because she was too busy to make it. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat so you can get back on the road before it gets too dark.”

When Ian pulled his pick-up truck in front of the old river plantation home that housed the Smithfield Gallery, he saw the doors wide open on both sides of the hall and people streaming in and out carrying bags and boxes. A couple of college aged kids were loading larger pieces of furniture into a box truck. Ian clipped the leash on Apollo and hurried up the front path to investigate.

Mrs. Smithfield was sitting at a desk in the center of the front hall, making sales and directing traffic like a drill sergeant. At the sight of her, Apollo let out a low woof, and she looked up from a porcelain teacup she was wrapping in brown paper.

“Ian! What are you doing here?” she asked, coming out from behind her desk to lay a hand against his cheek. “And you big black dog.” She scratched behind Apollo’s ears, and the dog flopped down in the entrance, rolling over to show her his belly. “Who’s a good boy?” she cooed, and memories of Rachel saying the same thing tightened something in Ian’s chest. “I don’t understand. I was just talking to you on the phone. What are you doing here?”

“I came to keep you from mailing the check. The better question is what are you doing? Mrs. Smithfield, what’s going on here?” He motioned to the people, trying to wedge themselves past the trio in the doorway.

“I’m having a going out of business sale,” she said hurrying back to her desk and the line of waiting customers.

“I don’t understand,” he said, confused and concerned. “It’s not because of what Rachel did is it?”

“Rachel, yes that was her name. I couldn’t remember when you and I talked this morning. She was a lovely young woman. Did you bring her?” She peered around his shoulder as if she expected him to be hiding Rachel.

“No, Mrs. Smithfield, I didn’t bring her. She’s gone. Now back to the going out of business sale.”

“What did you do?” she asked, shaking a finger at him. “Never mind. Take the big black dog for a walk. I’ll be finished in about an hour, and you can explain it to me then.”

He thought about offering to help her move things, but he half expected her to scold him if he said anything else. And having Apollo roaming unsupervised was a bad idea.

“Okay,” he said, but she hadn’t waited for his answer. She was focused on taking money from a young couple buying a hand painted footstool.

This close to the river, the air felt warm and a little heavy. Nothing like it would in summer but enough to make Ian glad he hadn’t taken time to put on a button down shirt. By the time he found a bench by the water and sat down, his T-shirt had started to stick to him. Apollo stretched his leash out as far as it would go and was nosing his way around the shoreline. He pulled it tight, trying to reach for something in the water, and Ian checked to make sure he wasn’t watching him before letting go of the leash. As long as it stayed hooked to his collar, the dog would assume he was still caught and wouldn’t try to wander too far.

The trip to see Mrs. Smithfield was supposed to make things clearer, but so far it raised more questions than it answered. How did she go from Rachel’s call yesterday to closing the gallery today? None of it made sense.

He missed her.

He was okay when he was moving or trying to fix something, but when he stopped the missing her was an ache like a hole in his chest. He didn’t have any idea what to do about it. For as sorry as he was for the way he’d treated her, he was angry that she’d run away. Again. If that’s what she did, how was he ever supposed to count on her or trust her feelings for him?

As bad as it felt now, it was probably better this way. They were too different. It would never work. Better to admit it now and move on before they got in deeper or he did something stupid like drive to Charlottesville to tell her he loved her. He’d been happy before that night on the Appalachian Trail. He’d be happy again. He just wasn’t sure when.

Apollo carried a slimy wet stick up from the lake and dropped it at Ian’s feet.

“Not a chance, dog.” He glanced down at his watch and figured it had been about an hour. Bending to pick up the dog’s leash, her turned and saw Mrs. Smithfield coming toward him carrying a tray.

“Here, let me help you,” he said, hurrying to her side.

“Thank you,” she said, handing him the tray before collapsing down on the bench. “That was a long day.”

Ian sat down next to her, holding the tray on his lap and trying not to rattle the teacups in their saucers.

“Why are you closing the business?” he asked when he was sure he wouldn’t drop the fragile porcelain. “Please, tell me it doesn’t have anything to do with something Rachel said.”

“Please, tell me you didn’t do anything to mess things up with that lovely young woman.” Apollo laid his big head on her lap, and she scratched him behind the ears.

“How do you know she’s lovely? You only talked to her one time,” he said, his frustration level rising. He was feeling stupid enough already. He didn’t need the old lady going angry school marm on him. “And I asked you first. Spill.”

“Sometimes once is enough with the right person,” she said.

He wouldn’t admit it, but she was right. He’d known there was something special about Rachel the first night they met.

“I was already planning on closing the gallery,” said Mrs. Smithfield, looking out over the river. “It’s been too much for me to keep up with since Harold died, but I felt guilty thinking about selling. Like I was letting him down somehow. Anyway. I’d already made plans for the going out of business sale, but Rachel made me feel better about it. She said Harold wouldn’t want me to have all the worry and disorder weighing me down. And she was right. He wouldn’t. I’m closing the shop and going back to painting. I haven’t picked up a brush in ages because I was going crazy trying to keep up with things around here.”

She sounded happy and the more she talked the lighter she seemed. He could easily picture Rachel convincing the older woman her husband would have wanted her to make things easier for herself. It was what she’d been trying to do for him. God, he was such a jerk.

“Your turn,” she said, turning the laser focus of her kind faded blue eyes on him. “Why are you here alone? What did you do?”

So he explained, starting with the way they’d met on the AT and the stove and the mouse in the sleeping bag. By the time he got to the flask of bourbon, she was laughing so hard she had trouble catching her breath.

“My Harold was like that. Wound so tight he could practically power his own city, but so much fun when he let loose. You’re a good man, Ian Maxwell.” She covered his hand with hers and worry and loneliness crowded around him drawn to the comfort she offered.