The Tycoon's Perfect Match (13 page)

M
ari dozed in an orange vinyl chair in the cramped cardiac care waiting room.

Only one person was able to see her father—for five minutes out of the hour. Her grandmother had just returned. Then it would be her turn.

She'd never seen her mother look so tired and helpless. When Mari had walked into the waiting room, her mother had clung to her like a lifeline.

“I'm so glad you're here, Mari,” she'd said.

“How's Daddy?”

“He's sleeping. I just sat there and held his hand.
The doctor said that everything was going to be fine. The bypass went well.” Her mother started to sob. This was the first time that Mari ever remembered seeing her mother cry, and she seemed so old, so frail. Her mother reached for her again, and Mari rubbed her back, trying to remember the last time they had hugged.

Grandma Rose held a crumpled white handkerchief in her hand, and she was dabbing at her eyes. The three women huddled together on the couch, presenting a united front, as they always had.

“I thought I lost him,” her mother said, composing herself. “Thank goodness he's going to be okay.”

“He'll be fine, Barbara. He's a Sherwood,” Grandma proclaimed as fact. “How was your trip to the lake, Mari? Did you have a good time?”

“I did. I enjoyed it very much, and our cottage looked…the same. It's still magnificent.”

“That place always held a special place in your heart,” her mother said, taking her hand and squeezing it.

Maybe it wouldn't be so special, now that Brian Hawkins was leaving. Mari tightened her hands together and squeezed the thought into nonexistence.

“I've missed you,” her mother said.

Her mother had never said that—then again, Mari had never taken a vacation. “Thanks, Mom. I've missed you, too.”

Grandma exchanged her old handkerchief for a new one and looked at Mari through red-rimmed eyes. “Your mother tells me that you've become reacquainted with Brian Hawkins. You two were inseparable as far back as I can remember.”

Mari wanted to scream, but instead she simply nodded. “It was a little too cold yet to swim, but we did go boating and hiking, and I made pottery—just like you showed me, Grandma. Remember?” Mari tried to steer the conversation away from Brian. She was still too raw from his betrayal.

“I do. Just like my mother showed me, and her mother showed her.” Rose took Mari's other hand. “There's a lot of your great-grandmother in you, Mari. Have I ever told you that?”

Her grandmother's words released a wave of guilt that washed over her. How could she tell them that she didn't want to run the company anymore? With her father in intensive care and her mother an emotional wreck, the family needed her as the head of Sherwood more than ever.

Now was not the time to turn her back on them because she thought she wanted to drop out of the
fast lane and disappear into a small Adirondack town to make her pottery.

It seemed as if the weight of the whole company had settled squarely on her shoulders.

She started ticking things off in her mind, then decided she needed a paper and pen to write everything down. Opening her purse, she pulled out two sheets of folded white paper. Perfect. Then she fumbled in her purse and pulled out a pen.

“Is that anything important you're about to write on, Mari?” her mother asked, pointing to the typing on the back.

Distracted, Mari zipped her purse before everything fell out. “What did you say, Mother?”

“What are you writing on?”

Mari looked at the paper. As soon as she saw the printed heading at the top of the sheet, she wanted to groan. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to get away from Brian Hawkins. She'd forgotten that she'd stuffed his resumé and cover letter into her purse.

She sighed and refolded the paper. “It's Brian Hawkins's resumé. He wants to work for Sherwood. I think he'd be great.”

Brian wanted the job so damn much, he'd give it
his all. He ran Hawk's Lake like a CEO, so what was the difference? Let him have it.

“But we can talk about Brian and Sherwood at another time.” Mari could barely finish her sentence when the tears came. She tried to wipe them away before they were noticed, but her mother didn't miss a thing.

“What's the matter?”

“Oh, everything. I'm worried about Daddy. And then there's B-Brian and the company.” She desperately wiped at the corners of her eyes, feeling like a total fool. Why did she let him get to her like this? When would she ever learn? “I'm sorry. I guess I'm more tired than I thought. I'll be okay.”

Her grandmother handed her a clean handkerchief. “Your father will be fine. And he has wonderful doctors. What about Brian? Tell us what's bothering you.”

“It's not the right time, Gram.”

Her mother brushed Mari's hair back. “There's nothing else to do here but talk—and worry—and I'm exhausted from worrying. So let's talk. Tell us.”

Mari took a deep breath. “I've decided not to return to Sherwood. I'm sorry to let you both down and to let Daddy down. I'll stay and run the company until he's okay and back at work, but then I
want out. This just isn't the life I want for myself. I'm so sorry to let you down.”

Her mother and grandmother were silent for a moment.

“I suspected this for a long time, Mari,” her mother said quietly. “We all did. You didn't have your heart in the company anymore. And when you finally decided to take a vacation for two months, at first we thought it was due to your breakup with Jason. But you've always bounced back from your breakups.”

If she only knew…

“But, Mari, if you were tired of Sherwood or wanted out, why didn't you say something?” asked Grandma Rose.

“I went to Hawk's Lake to think—about a lot of things. Mostly I realized that it's hard to walk away from my heritage—my family. After all, Sherwood was passed down to me from all the Sherwood women and Daddy. And now he's ill. And I'm it. I'm the only one left.”

She stopped for a breath and noticed her mother and grandmother staring at her, mouths open.

Her grandmother recovered first. “Sweetie, whether or not you run the company, you'll always be a part of it. If Violet and Iris were here, they would never want you to be unhappy, and neither
do I. Sherwood Enterprises will always be your heritage.” She tucked a strand of hair behind Mari's ear and smiled. “And you will always be our bestselling china pattern, Marigold.”

Mari laughed. “I know. I outsell you, Grandma, two to one.”

“Oh, you two!” Her mother laughed, then patted Mari's hand. “Sweetie, please don't let your father's illness influence your decision. You're my daughter first and I want you to be happy. So does your father.”

Grandma Rose nodded. “Absolutely.”

Her mother slid her hand into Mari's. “In light of your father's heart attack, I have come to several conclusions myself. A wake-up call like a serious illness makes you think of all the things you've done wrong. One of those things I'd like to change would be to spend more time with you, if it's not too late. We neglected you when you were growing up because of the company, and that's going to stop now.”

Mari was stunned. “Oh, Mom! I'd love to spend more time with you and Daddy. And it's not too late. I understand.” And she did.

A look of such love and tenderness filled her mother's face that, for a moment, Mari felt a flash of those sweet summer nights when her mother would tuck her into bed. Safe and content in her
upstairs room at Sherwood Lodge, she'd listen to the soft hum of her parents' voices as they talked on the porch below.

Her mother reached up and gently touched her cheek. “I have a feeling that somehow I raised a daughter who won't make the same foolish mistakes with her children as I did.”

Tears stung Mari's eyes when she realized that she'd probably never have her own family.

They were interrupted when a nurse appeared at the waiting room door. “Mr. Sherwood is awake now. He's asking for Barbara.”

Her mother turned to her.

“It's your turn, Mari.”

“Go ahead, Mom. He's asking for you. Just tell him I'm here.”

She gave Mari a kiss on the cheek. “I will.”

 

Brian tried to navigate the streets of downtown Boston, but he was half-stuck at the intersection, as horns blared and pedestrians swarmed all around his convertible trying to get around him. With more horns blaring, he tried to study his global mapping device.

A cabdriver pulled up alongside him. “What are you looking for, pal?”

He looked at the scribbled paper where he'd written down the address of the hospital. Mari's assistant, Julie, had given him directions, too, but about now, nothing made any sense.

“Fourth and Hope,” Brian said. “Beacon of Light Hospital.”

“This is your lucky day. Follow me. I'm headed there now.”

“Thanks.”

Brian squeezed in behind the taxi. More horns blared.

“Give me a break,” he yelled.

He looked around, keeping a close watch on the taxi's bumper. High-rise buildings as far as he could see stood like sentinels, one after the other, blocking out the sun. You could get claustrophobic in this place, he thought.

The noise and the smell of diesel from the buses were getting to him. He should have put up the top on his convertible. Too late. He didn't dare do it now, in this mess.

Strange. Things like high-rises and fumes had never bothered him before.

The same cars passed him, no doubt circling for a parking space.

He saw two mothers pushing strollers, trying to
cross the street. Holding his breath, he hoped no one would hit them.

He'd forgotten about
this
part of city life.

He checked his watch. It was two o'clock. The lunch-hour rush was probably over. He was starving, but he couldn't just pull over and run in somewhere. There was absolutely nowhere to park.

The taxi driver beeped his horn and pointed to a parking garage. Brian waved and turned into the lane heading to the garage. Amazed at the high prices, he hit the button for a card and circled up the ramp, looking for a space. Finally, he squeezed into a space on the top floor.

Grabbing his backpack, he followed the signs to the hospital and found himself in a packed elevator and a crowded lobby. People jostled him from every direction. At the tiny gift shop, he bought a couple of bouquets of flowers, then waited in line at the reception desk to find out where Thomas Sherwood's room was located.

After stops on every floor, he finally squeezed himself out of the elevator onto the eighth floor.

On his right, he saw Mari slowly pacing inside the glass-windowed waiting room of the cardiac care unit.

Brian watched her for a moment. Judging by the
droop of her shoulders and the way her brows furrowed, she was exhausted and worried.

He'd love to whisk her away to a hotel and make sure she got something to eat and some sleep, but he knew that Mari would never leave the hospital until she was sure that everything was okay.

Just then, she saw him. Her jaw dropped and her expression grew…blank.

Not quite the reaction he'd hoped for.

 

Mari couldn't believe her eyes as she ran out of the room. “Brian! What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice stiff.

Even as she reminded herself to keep her distance, her body warred with her mind. She wanted to take comfort in his warm embrace. She wanted to turn back time to before she'd learned that he was just like all the other men she'd known. Before he'd hurt her.

“I was worried about you, Mari.”

“You shouldn't have come all this way just to check on me. You could have called.” She tried to keep her tone blank—impersonal. Now was not the time to discuss their relationship—such as it was.

“But I wanted to be with you,” Brian said, “to see what I could do to help. I thought you might need me.”

His gaze measured her, and she could see the confusion—and hurt—in the depths of his blue eyes.

“How's your dad?”

“He's okay. The surgery went well. I haven't seen him yet. My mother's visiting him now.”

“You look tired, Mari.”

“And so do you, Brian. You look like you slept in those clothes.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I did. I guess I had a certain lady on my mind.”

She longed to take his hand, wanting to feel his warmth and strength. But instead she clenched her hands into fists behind her back. Now was the time to stay in control—the time to protect her heart from any further pain that came from loving a man who didn't want the same things as she did. A man who'd used her.