Unbreakable (15 page)

Emily looked hopefully at her mother, but Jacie didn't answer, unwilling to commit to something only to have to break her word later. "Maybe," Emily finally ventured.

"Goodbye," Jacie said warmly, directing the words to Nina's son. Then her gaze lifted to Agnes, who was still standing on the porch. "And thanks."

Agnes and Robbie waved as the pickup pulled away and disappeared down the street.

Robbie sighed as he took the wrapped box from his grandmother and gave it a little shake, trying to determine what was inside. "Emily was pretty cool for a girl. And her mom, too," he said absently.

Agnes slung the dishrag over her shoulder and wrapped an arm around Robbie's waist to lead him inside, the wheels in her head spinning at a furious rate. "Mm. They certainly were."

*  *  *

It was nearly nine o'clock by the time Nina pulled into the driveway. Agnes was waiting on the porch with a pitcher of lemonade and an extra sweater for Nina to ward off the evening chill. She was big into constant hydration and warmth. A few sluggish bugs buzzed around the amber porch light and the smell of damp leaves filled the air. For the first time all year, it felt like autumn.

"I'm sorry it's so late, Mom." Nina ran a hand through her hair. "Tonight was so hectic. They're trying to get a new exhibit up for this weekend and I decided to stay and help." Her gaze strayed to the second floor. "Is Robbie already in bed?"

"Bathed and snoring away."

Nina let out defeated groan. "You're a miracle worker. I usually have to all but threaten his life to get him to bed by 9:00. Especially on Friday nights."

"I do my best." Actually, Agnes had threatened his life. But Nina didn't need to know that. It was best to keep the all-knowing mother thing going for as long as possible. "Here," she gestured to an empty chair. "Sit and put this on."

Nina flopped down the seat and took the sweater, wrapping it around her shoulders. "I'm so tired," she moaned, already looking forward to sleeping in. She reached for the pitcher of lemonade as she stretched out her legs. "Anything interesting happen today?"

"Your friend Jacie Ann and her daughter Emily stopped by tonight."

Nina nearly dropped the pitcher. "Jesus Christ." She fumbled it for a few seconds before getting a good grip on the damp glass. Her eyes were wide as twin moons. "What? Jacie came by here? And she has a daughter?"

"That's what I said."

In shock, Nina shook her head a little. "Wow. I can't believe… How did she seem? Jacie, I mean."

Agnes cocked her head to the side. "Witty. Smart. Pretty. Same as always."

Nina wasn't sure whether that was good news or not. Jacie was a mom? Wow.

"Are you going to Gwen's gathering this weekend?" Agnes asked suddenly.

Nina rolled her eyes. "I already told you I decided not to go."

"But Jacie Ann is going to be so disappointed."

Nina blinked. "Since when!"

"Since I spoke to her tonight. She said the entire reason she was going was to see you." Agnes gave Nina a woeful look to complete the effect.

"But…" Nina was still shell-shocked.

"She even brought you a gift." Agnes reached down behind her chair and handed Nina a small box wrapped in brown Kraft paper.

"What's this for?" Nina turned the box over in her hands and shook it, exactly the way Robbie had done.

"I have no earthly idea, but she said that you'd understand."

Nina licked her lips and wiped her damp palms on her jeans before tearing open the paper and lifting the lid. When she saw what was inside, her eyes slammed closed, a glistening tear escaping one corner.

Agnes gaped. "I didn't know it would make you cry." She peered through the dim light to see what sort of gift could elicit such a strong reaction. "Well, what is it? What does it mean?"

Nina pulled the gift from the box and pressed it against her heart before handing it to her mother. She wiped her eyes and when she spoke. Her voice was heavy with emotion. "It means I need to go upstairs and pack. Can you still look after Robbie if I go to this gathering?"

Agnes's eyebrows jumped. "Of course. But I–"

"Thanks, Mom." Nina pressed a quick kiss to her mother's cheek. then hurried inside, leaving the older woman alone with the chirping crickets.

"Huh." Agnes held the gift up to the light to get a better look.

It was an old, tattered copy of
Where the Red Fern Grows
.

As she traced the letters on its cover, she wondered why a book about plants would bring anyone to tears. But, she decided, it really didn't matter. What mattered was Nina's ultimate happiness and towards that end she lifted her glass in a toast. "To friends and reunions…" she paused to nibble her lip, then added, "and to as many chances as it takes to get things right."

Present Day
Town & Country, Missouri

"H
ERE YOU GO, Mrs. Langtree." A diminutive housekeeper with skin so black it held a tint of blue handed Gwen a stainless steel traveling mug full of steaming cappuccino. "Can I get you anything else?"

The morning air was cool, and Gwen could see her breath as she leaned against her convertible and accepted the warm mug. Her red hair was swept up in a clip that held it just off her neck and she was wearing a sleeveless white sweater, deck shoes, and soft jeans she hadn't had occasion to put on in several years. She smiled weakly, more nervous about reuniting with the Mayflower Club than she thought she'd be. "No thank you, Ruby." She brought the mug to her lips and peered over the rim. "Did you remember to add the whiskey?"

Ruby's eyes widened and her gaze flicked to the car. "But–"

Gwen chuckled and took a sip. "Just kidding." She sighed. "Mostly."

Ruby pointed to the passenger seat that held a small travel bag, and her normally rich voice rose to a squeak. "Is that all you're bringing?"

A sassy eyebrow lifted. "Would you be surprised if I said yes?"

Ruby just snorted.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Fine. I have more. Tucker came by to have breakfast with Mr. Langtree and I sent him inside to get my other bags."

Ruby hummed a little and spoke under her breath. "Thank Jesus I'm too old to carry them myself."

"I heard that, Ruby."

Malcolm, dressed, but with a dab of shaving cream still on his cheek, trotted out of the house. He dismissed Ruby with a quick wave of his hand and the small woman shuffled back into the house.

Gwen frowned. Malcolm wasn't usually so rude.

He stopped in front of her, a curious expression on his face. "There was a phone call for you just now."

"Really," Gwen answered absently, fishing through her purse for her driving glasses with one hand. "Who was it?"

Malcolm's normally mild-mannered expression went a little hard. "He didn't say."

Something odd in his voice made Gwen look up from her rummaging. "Malcolm?"

"That's happened a couple of times this week."

"Has it?"

"You know it has. I've asked you about them."

"Do you want me to call the phone company?" she asked tentatively, unsure of where the conversation was headed.

Their gazes locked and Gwen felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

A pained, lost expression swept over his face and tears filled his eyes. "Are you having an affair, Gwen?"

The unexpected question stole the breath from her lungs as surely as a punch to the gut would have. She actually had to grab ‘hold of the car to steady herself. "Wh-What?'
Oh, my God.

He sniffed and lifted his chin, not caring that he was having this discussion in his driveway. "Are you?"

She stared at him for a moment, flabbergasted that he actually appeared to be serious. She reached out to touch his forearm, and he flinched before her bandage-covered hand could graze him. "How could you even ask me such a thing?" she asked harshly, her voice a loud whisper.

"How could I not!" He threw his hands in the air. The phone call this morning had been the last straw. "You're acting so strange. I keep asking you about it and you won't talk to me!" He gently grasped her arm and held her bandaged hand in front of her face as proof of her erratic behavior. "Someone is calling here but won't leave his name. If I go near your computer, you act as though you're going to have a heart attack." He let her hand drop. "What's going on, Gwen?"

Her heart began to thump wildly in her chest and she looked around self-consciously, despite the fact that the nearest neighbor was several hundred yards away and behind a privacy fence. "Nothing."

"It's not nothing," he growled. "Jill saw you!"

"What could your secretary have seen? Jesus Christ, Malcolm. Are you insane? I'm not having an affair!"

"You told me you were visiting your mother yesterday."

"I was!"

"Then why did, Jill, see you coming out of the Werner Building downtown at lunch?"

Dead silence.

Gwen closed her eyes.
Shit.
She'd asked Ted Gramercy to continue keeping tabs on the Mayflower Club's members' finances. And yesterday for the first and only time, she'd gone by his office after he'd called her and told her that Audrey had withdrawn $10,000.00 from her saving's account with Enrique. The exact amount of her blackmailer's last demand.
I never should have gone there in person.
Too close. Everything was closing in on her. "Malcolm–"

"Do you deny it?"

Her gaze was heartsick. Lying to him tore at her insides, but the truth was even more unbearable. "Of course, I don't deny it, sweetheart. I went to Mother's after I stopped by the new gallery on the third floor of the Werner Building. It just opened last week." She dug around in her purse and pulled out a creased brochure from the gallery, holding it up for him to see and privately thanking God that she'd picked it up on a whim as she'd exited the building. "I must have forgotten to mention it because I was there for such a short time. You know how I feel about impressionists and that was the entire display."

Uncertainty colored Malcolm's features and he swallowed hard.

This time when she reached out he accepted her touch, and she felt her racing pulse began to calm. She could tell by his eyes that he desperately wanted to believe her, knew the very second when painful uncertainty shifted into belief. She vowed on the spot to fire Gramercy Investigations and never contact them again. She couldn't risk it. "I don't know who's been calling here, it's only been two calls, but we'll contact the phone company and have it blocked or traced." She gently rubbed her fingertips through the hair on his arm. "It's probably some teenager playing a stupid prank."

She sounded so reasonable, so calm, that his wild accusation appeared rash and foolish. With an unsteady breath, he took the brochure from her hand and felt his cheeks began to heat. "I– I don't know what I was thinking." His jaw worked and shook his head. "I–"

Suddenly, she kissed him hard, feeling a strong arm wrap around her and pull her body tighter to his, the embrace so tight it hurt. When she pulled away, she spoke against his lips and his mustache tickled her mouth. "I love you, Malcolm. You believe that, don't you?"

"Yes," he whispered, but his brow was deeply furrowed. "But there's still something wrong." He chewed his lip as he thought. "Something you're not–"

"No buts," she interrupted quickly, hoping the tremors she was feeling on the inside weren't noticeable. "It's true, I've been out of sorts thinking about this reunion." She lowered herself from her tiptoes, but maintained firm eye contact as she offered up a wan smile. "I'm a little spooked about coming face to face with my childhood again."

"That's all it is?" he asked skeptically. "You haven't been sleeping." He trailed his fingers down her arm and circled her slender wrist, holding it up for inspection. "I'm worried about you, Gwen. You've lost weight." He licked his lips, hating to press the point but unwilling to let it go without a fight. "All because you're seeing your friends again?"

No
, her mind screamed.
Because I can't stand the thought of losing you and Tucker!

"I can tell there's more." He cupped her chin with a firm but gentle hand and tilted her face upward. "And–"

"Hi." Tucker jogged up to the couple and looked questioningly between his parents, who both plastered on welcoming, though visibly uncomfortable smiles.

In Tucker's hands were two large leather suitcases. "Did I interrupt something?" His voice lacked its usual warmth and Gwen instantly wondered what he'd heard, but a second later he flashed his father his usual smile and her concern was cast aside.

Tucker was several inches shorter than his father's 6 feet 2 inches, with a slim waist and dark brown hair that curled around his ears and just above his collar. He was handsome in a brooding sort of way, with soulful eyes that held a perpetually vulnerable look that drew women the way blossoms drew bees.

Malcolm took the bags from his son and with a lingering look at Gwen, moved to the trunk, which was already open. "You know your mother," he teased gently. "She always decides it's a good time to talk as she walking out the door."

Gwen stepped around Tucker to address Malcolm, affectionately patting her son on the back as she moved. "We'll talk when I get home, Mal?"

"Count on it." Malcolm's eyes conveyed his apology, and Gwen couldn't help but give him a hug, feeling his heart still beating fast from their discussion. "It's going to be okay," she whispered in his ear, her voice so low that only he could hear it, and was rewarded with a tightening of his embrace. "I know you want to talk, but I need to go."

Malcolm brushed his lips against the top of her head, torn between insisting she stay and not wanting to make a bigger fool of himself. "Have fun," he finally said, reluctantly admitting what he hoped was only a temporary defeat.

Gwen breathed a sigh of relief, her breath creating a fog in the early morning air. Worry still gnawed at her guts, but she did her best to ignore it. She needed to get out of here before she did something foolish. Something she couldn't undo, like telling Malcolm everything and begging his forgiveness. With a sigh, she gently disentangled herself from her husband to give Tucker a goodbye kiss, but the young man was already seated in his blood-red Mini Cooper, which was parked a few yards from Gwen's car. A little disappointed, she picked up her travel mug as Malcolm closed the trunk. "Bye, Tuck." She gave him a quick wave.