Worth the Trouble (St. James #2) (23 page)

Cat counted to ten in her head and tried to think of some way to relieve his guilt. In a quiet voice, she said, “Jenny and Helen were also with your mom every day these past weeks and neither of them realized what was happening, so don’t shoulder all the blame. You aren’t responsible for every single thing that happens to your family. You always do your best. It isn’t a crime to take some time for yourself after all these years. Please don’t feel guilty about that, Hank.”

He barely glanced up. “I know you’re trying to help, but I just need to get home.”

“What you need is to slow down for a second. What can you actually do to help if you return? As difficult as it may seem, I think you should stay and finish the show. Let your sisters care for your mom for two days.”

“Cat, my family needs me.”

“Actually, Jenny and your mom need this venture to succeed, so you’d be serving their needs better by staying.” When he didn’t appear persuaded, she pleaded, “
I
need you, too.
Our
business needs you. You changed the business model at the last minute, so now
you’re
the only one of us who can engage in a meaningful discussion about the furniture. I don’t know about construction, wood grains, time frames, or any of that, so please don’t walk out in the middle of the show. Besides, you drove all your stuff here. If you take it, there won’t even be anything to exhibit.”

Hank paced for a few seconds, apparently overwhelmed and looking for solutions.

“I’ll catch a flight home this afternoon, see my mom tonight, and
then fly back tomorrow afternoon to get everything.” He strode off
and turned the “Be Back Soon” sign over before closing the glass doors
to their exhibit room. “Let’s take a fifteen-minute break so I can fill
you in on some basics in terms of timing to build these kinds of pieces, and ballpark price ranges. Then I’ve got to grab a cab to the airport.”

She scurried behind him, her thoughts unable to keep up with his
feet. “Fifteen minutes? You’re the craftsman, Hank. Not me!
Please
don’t
bail on me after everything I’ve done to pull this together. Give your sisters the chance to prove they can handle your mom without you.”

His eyes widened. “Did you miss the part where I said my mom was being taken to the hospital?”

“No, Hank, I did not. Did
you
forget that your sister is the nurse, not you? If you’re being honest, rushing to Connecticut is more about your guilt than your mom’s needs.”

He scowled, apparently more dismayed than angry. “I want to be there for my mother. I give her peace, even if it’s only because she confuses me with my father. When she’s in crisis, I
will
be there. That’s what I do for the people I love . . . for my family.”

“I thought I mattered to you, too. That all of this mattered?” Cat threw her hands upward. “Is all of this nothing more than a whim?”

“It’s not a whim, and you know it. The timing sucks, but you can’t
plan for emergencies. People will understand if you explain what hap
pened. The designs speak for themselves. Don’t make this worse than it
is. Can’t you see I’m torn enough without additional guilt from you?”

He really was planning to leave. He was running on pure emotion despite the fact that every single one of her points made sense. Her father would be appalled by Hank’s illogical response. “Hank, even if you leave this minute, you won’t arrive until late tonight, after your mom’s already been admitted and is hydrated and resting, so in reality there’s much less to be gained by leaving than by staying.”

“There might be complications! If I stay, I won’t be focused on selling. Do you honestly think I give a damn about convincing someone to buy my tables right now? It’s the last thing on my mind.”

“Such a blasé attitude. Then again, it’s mostly my time, money, and name on the line at this point. Never mind that I also walked away from that jewelry deal for us.” She saw a small group of people peering in through the door and her blood pressure spiked. “All this time I’ve thought your family used you as a crutch, but maybe the truth is that you use them as an excuse not to take chances.”

Hank’s eyes flashed with hurt and anger. “Is that what you think of me?”

“If you walk out on us now, you leave me little choice.”

He turned his back on her, hands on his hips, head bowed. After a few seconds, he faced her again. “Well, if I use my family to avoid professional failure, then you use business to avoid personal relationships.” He dropped his voice. “When I’m forced to prioritize, I’ll pick personal
relationships over business every time, Cat. That’s the way it should be.”

“Irrationally, it seems.” She crossed her arms, hating the snappish tone of her voice, but unable to control herself. The disenchantment had finally arrived; she could see it in his eyes. She’d known this day
would come, so why did she feel like a horse just kicked her in the chest?

Maybe the timing of this disaster—before she’d confessed her feelings and diagnosis—was fate’s way of telling her to keep quiet. Was this the sign she’d wanted from her mother?

“That’s all you’re going to say?” He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

Even with the high ceilings and abundant windows inside the exhibit room, Cat couldn’t breathe. The situation had spiraled out of control, unraveling all the progress she’d made these past two months. Yesterday, she’d been on the cusp of finding her footing with Hank and giving over to her feelings, but the fault line beneath her feet had shifted, registering a 7.0 on the Richter scale.

When he opened his eyes, she met his brilliant green gaze, but couldn’t speak.

“I’m not going to stand here arguing with you when it’s clear you just don’t get it.” He sighed. “Guess we don’t fit as well as I’d thought, in which case there’s really no need for me to stay. And no reason we should be partners of
any
kind.”

“If that’s your position, I can’t stop you.” Her voice sounded surprisingly calm considering how her heart had shriveled like a hard raisin. “For two months you’ve been begging me to trust you, to count on you. You’d convinced me to let down my guard, Hank—to let myself care about you, about us. But if your mom and sisters will always come first—even when you can’t truly do anything to help, and even when it ends up hurting me—then maybe you shouldn’t have made those promises.”

“All this time
you’ve
been keeping me at a distance, yet now you want me to put you first?” He shook his head. “I’m flying home today
and will be back tomorrow afternoon to pack up the truck. You might as
well take off, too, because this,” he gestured around the space, “is over.”

Then he strode away, leaving her behind.

She watched him go, frozen in place except for her trembling lips. Her stomach clenched. Finally, she swallowed the hard lump in her throat and collected herself. Time to cordon off her exhibit and close up shop.

Hank could accuse her of a lot of things, but she hadn’t quit on him. He’d walked away, not her. Now she’d need to find a way to spin this and call Elise, maybe get back that jewelry company’s offer.

Everything would be fine.
Better
than fine.

In five or ten minutes, her throat would open again so she could breathe. Until then, she’d paste on her best camera-ready smile.

Mom,

I’m so mad and confused and embarrassed. Remember when I thought I might impress Dad by going out for high school lacrosse but then ended up with a concussion on the first day of tryouts? This is worse. Hank left me alone, in public, at our first (and now only) show.

Shame on me for believing I could be something—
someone—I’m not. From now on, I’ll stick to what I know.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

H
ank sipped his fourth cup of coffee, so he couldn’t tell whether the shakes were due to the caffeine, his mom’s health, or his fight with Cat. The flight home had given him time to think about the accusations they’d hurled. The fact she’d been dead wrong didn’t make the loss hurt less.

But at least he’d be here for his mom, who surely hated being hooked up to all this equipment.

“She’ll be in the hospital for a couple of days, and then I think we need to move her to a facility.” Meg sipped her soda before continuing to fill Hank in on the details he’d missed while in transit. “Given her overall weakened condition, it’s pretty clear that the situation has finally exceeded your and Jenny’s ability to care for her and live your lives.”

“Meg, not now. We’ve got a couple of days to make decisions.” Hank noticed another round of tears falling from Jenny’s eyes, so he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her head. “Don’t cry. This isn’t your fault.”

It’s mine
. How had he been foolish enough to think he could juggle so many obligations and sneak away for four days without causing problems? He’d always feared something like this could happen, and the internal “I told you so” sucked.

“You look like shit, Hank,” Meg said, tossing her empty tin can in the trash.

“Been a long day,” he muttered.

“You know, you didn’t need to run back here. There’s nothing you can do, and Mom won’t even realize that you’re here.” Meg took a seat. “I assume Cat’s not pleased to be stuck there alone trying to sell you and your work. Will she end up shipping everything back, now? That’ll be expensive.”

Hank shook his head, recalling the dance of emotion Cat’s face had exhibited—empathy, shock, rage, defeat. “I’m flying back tomorrow to pick up all the furniture.”

“Were things going well before you left? Did you have a little fun, make a sale or two?”

Hank shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We’re dissolving the partnership.”

“What? Why?” Jenny chirped, on the verge of another round of tears.

Hank met Meg’s gaze and swallowed his pride. “Because you were right. The timing isn’t good. I can’t do what needs to be done to launch a new business
and
take care of Mom.”

“But I thought you signed contracts, put down deposits, started advertising?”

Hank winced, shoving aside the fact he’d put Cat in a horrible position by storming off. Dammit, he’d done the right thing. The fact she’d walked away from a boatload of money because she’d believed in him—in them, really—was neither here nor there. She could’ve stuck it out and made the best of talking to people. It was just one show, and if she hadn’t made such a big deal about him leaving, they could’ve continued with their plans when she returned.

Of course, she’d been right about one thing: she’d depended on him, and he’d let her down.

Ironic that the only two people in his life he’d ever failed happened to be siblings.

“She must be really angry.” Jenny bit her nail.

Hank just nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground. The day had begun with so much promise, yet ended in disaster.

“Will you just keep working for Jackson now?” Meg asked.

Hank shook his head. “He’s already hired my replacement. I’ve only got another three weeks on the job.”

“But you two are such good friends. Maybe he’ll try to work something out.”

Hank cast her a tired glance. “Right or wrong, I just basically broke up with his sister—cost her money, hurt her pride, and damaged her reputation. I doubt Jackson’s going to look too kindly on that once he finds out. I made my bed, I’ll lie in it.”

“Have you spoken with Cat since you left Chicago?” Jenny asked.

“No. We both said some things, need some time to cool off. I suspect for now we’ll limit our discussion to settling things with the business.” He sat back and crossed his ankles, as if stretching his body could untangle the knots in his stomach.

“You probably won’t believe me, but I’m sorry things turned out this way.” Meg squeezed his hand. “Once I got over my surprise, it was nice to see you excited about the future.”

“Nice dream while it lasted.” He forced a grin so his sisters didn’t have to worry about him when they needed to save their energy for their mom.

“At least consider keeping Mom in some kind of facility for a few weeks.” Meg patted his thigh. “You need to focus on finding a new job, and maybe take a little well-deserved time for yourself.”

Another irony. With his mom in the hospital, he’d actually have the time he would’ve needed to work with Cat if he hadn’t destroyed that opportunity.

Meg rubbed his shoulder. “Or maybe you could go back to Cat and make this thing work.”

Hank bent over, elbows on his knees, head bowed. There was no making things work. She’d claimed he’d convinced her to lower her guard, but it seemed like too little, too late.

He felt sorry for her and her siblings, for the way they struggled to be open and trusting. But no matter how much he wanted her, he couldn’t pretend he could have a healthy relationship with a woman who wouldn’t let him inside her heart.

Love shouldn’t be so hard.

“I can’t think about that now, Meg. I’m worn out. Let’s get Mom through the next twenty-four hours before we start discussing her future care. But it makes no sense to put Mom in a home as long as I’m able-bodied. I can’t afford a decent one, especially if I’m unemployed. Besides, I don’t want to wake Mom or frighten her with an argument. This,” he gestured around the room at the monitors, “is going to be scary enough.”

His muscles and joints ached from exhaustion. “I need another coffee. Be right back.”

Seeking a few minutes of privacy, he took his coffee to a small, outdoor courtyard. Three gulps later, he set the cup aside and dialed Cat. He had to coordinate getting his furniture back, although in truth, he knew more drove him to call her. His heart sank, although not in surprise, when her voice mail picked up.

“Cat, it’s me. My mom’s doing okay and apparently there aren’t urgent complications with her kidneys or anything. I’m calling to talk about how and where I should get all my stuff. Call me, please.”

After he finished his message, he downed the rest of his coffee and speculated about how Cat had spent her day. If he could go back, the only part of his reaction he’d change would be refraining from the personal attack. He’d no right to stomp on her feelings, to pick at that sore. Whatever wounds she guarded so carefully must be big, because Cat wasn’t a weak woman. And as angry and disappointed as he was by her reaction to his situation, he didn’t want to cause her pain.

He watched a swath of gray clouds pass over the moon. Was Cat looking at the sky, too? She might be nine hundred miles away as the crow flies, but her heart was infinitely further away.

Hank started when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Apparently Cat planned to restrict their communication to texts.

I’m glad your mother is recovering. I dismantled the exhibit. Your pieces are in the U-Haul, which I’ve parked at the hotel. I’ll leave the key for you at the front desk. I doubt there is anything you need to do in terms of dissolving the LLC, but I’ll be in touch if I need a signature.

His fingers hovered over the phone keyboard, mind blank. A thousand thoughts crossed his mind, but he had neither the energy nor time to sort through them then and there. Eventually he typed, “Can we talk,” but then didn’t hit Send.

Another minute passed before he deleted the text. Talk about what? It seemed there was nothing left to say.

Cat’s stiff muscles ached thanks to a hellish, sleepless night. Hiding red-rimmed eyes behind her favorite Versace sunglasses, she lumbered toward the lengthy security line, like a snail in thick mud, caring very little if she made her flight on time.

Caring very little about much at all.

He’s gone.

Those words replayed on a continuous loop, wrapping around her heart and yanking it from her chest, leaving behind an empty cavern as heavy as a black hole.

She stood in line, staring blankly over the throng. Amid the families, couples, and businessmen, her gaze landed on an attractive, single, forty-something woman in the next line. Glossy blond hair in a neat bob, linen slacks paired with a flowing silk-blend top, and wedge sandals. Despite the perfectly pressed pants, manicured fingernails, and flawless makeup, her ringless left hand and empty gaze screamed of loneliness. Experience informed Cat’s opinion, and sent an unwanted shudder down her spine.

A few feet ahead stood another middle-aged woman—mousy brown hair, no makeup, Gap sweatpants—with a young son in tow. Unlike the blond, the mother’s eyes glowed with contentment as she spoke with her son. Smile lines around her eyes and mouth made her animated face more interesting. A sense of purpose practically vibrated around her.

Not long ago, if asked which middle-aged woman she’d prefer to be like a dozen years from now, Cat would’ve undoubtedly picked the first. Now her stomach turned over with the understanding she was doomed to become that very woman.

He doesn’t love you. It wasn’t real.

Robotically, she removed her shoes and belt and placed her phone in the plastic bin. When the TSA agent took a special interest in patting her down, she barely mustered a grunt of displeasure.

What did it matter? What did anything matter now?

Hank left her, and Mitchell/St. James was closing its virtual doors. Deep down she’d known this could—
would
—happen. Known she could never live up to his expectations. Known she’d end up worse off for having trusted him, for having fallen in love.

Granted, she hadn’t expected to flame out so abruptly. Not with him or their business. Her reputation would take a hit. All the work she’d done, the steps she’d taken to get it right, had been wrong. And now she’d need to call that
Town & Country
writer and pull the piece that would’ve run in October’s issue.

Did Hank even care? Had he any regrets?

He never responded to her text.

Perhaps that second slight served her right, considering that she’d refused to answer his call.

At this point, she didn’t know which one of them had been more wrong or more spiteful. What she did know was that her entire soul got bruised in the battle.

On her way to the gate, she stopped at Starbucks and grabbed a coffee. With caffeine in hand, she took a seat at a tall table and bit the bullet.

“Elise?”

“Cat, I didn’t expect to hear from you until after you returned from Italy later this month.”

“I know.” Cat closed her eyes and grimaced as she swallowed her pride. “I’m actually sitting in Chicago wondering whether we can revive the deal with the jeweler?”

“I thought you weren’t interested.”

“Well, I still don’t love an absolute exclusivity clause. However, I’m wondering if suggesting a lesser lump-sum payment but a slightly greater royalty—for example, two-fifty up front and seven percent for two years—might reduce her initial risk enough to make her willing to be a little flexible with the exclusivity? I’d agree not to rep other jewelry and accessory lines, and I’d even restrict myself to only one other license deal during the term of her contract, but I’d like to retain a little control over my future.”

“My concern is that you’d be setting your price too low, and that could hurt you with other endorsement offers.”

“Can’t we make the terms confidential?”

“I don’t think this is the wisest course of action, Cat.”

“I hear you, and I respect your opinion, but ultimately isn’t it my call? I’d like you to feel her out, at least in a general, hypothetical way. If you don’t want me to undersell myself, then just suggest the idea and let her come back with revised numbers.”

“Fine.” Elise paused. “Let’s hope she hasn’t been following your other venture, otherwise she’ll know you’re in a weakened position.”

Cat absorbed the hit like a pro—it only hurt on the inside. Like most of the disappointments in her life.

“Thanks, Elise. I’ll speak with you soon.” Cat hung up, feeling marginally better.

Although her heart wasn’t in this new project, pragmatism forced her to face reality. Her modeling days were winding down and she needed to explore other options now that Mitchell/St. James appeared dead in the water.

She winced at the memory of the harsh things she and Hank had said yesterday. Why hadn’t he even tried to see her point of view? Even for a second? He’d come at it purely from a knee-jerk emotional perspective.

Her dad had always said that emotions were the worst foundation for decision-making. He’d definitely had a point when it came to work, but maybe she should question his philosophy when it came to personal choices.

Hank had devastated her when he’d walked out on all their plans . . . on her. Even if his excuse had merit—and an elderly, sick mom rushed to the hospital certainly had merit—his stubbornness had enraged her. Obviously, she thought as she tossed her empty cup in a nearby garbage can and continued her journey.

She felt for his difficult position, but she still disagreed with his decision. In either case, she’d handled the situation poorly.