Katia′s Promise
Katia's Promise
Catherine Lanigan
The past is a risky place to visit As a top insurance agent in Chicago, Katia Stanislaus isn't just used to pressure; she thrives on it. When she finds out her firm's future is at stake, she's the first to dream up a solution: relocate to Indian Lake and land the town's reclusive millionaire as a client. Austin McCreary might be the sweetheart she left brokenhearted when they were teens, but she can't let her feelings–or his–get in the way of her career. If she can just convince him to listen to her explanation, and her pitch, he'll see this is the deal of a lifetime. But that would involve talking, and he won't even take her calls! How ridiculous. Because this is strictly business…isn't it?
The past is a risky place to visit
As a top insurance agent in Chicago, Katia Stanislaus isn’t just used to pressure; she thrives on it. When she finds out her firm’s future is at stake, she’s the first to dream up a solution: relocate to Indian Lake and land the town’s reclusive millionaire as a client. Austin McCreary might be the sweetheart she left brokenhearted when they were teens, but she can’t let her feelings—or his—get in the way of her career. If she can just convince him to listen to her explanation, and her pitch, he’ll see this is the deal of a lifetime. But that would involve talking, and he won’t even take her calls! How ridiculous. Because this is strictly business...isn’t it?
The crowd dispersed slowly, like the shifting sand following a wave.
Mrs. Beabots was the last to leave the room, and then it was just Katia standing across from Austin in the front parlor of the house she grew up in.
“Hello, Austin.”
“Katia.”
She thought her heart would hammer a hole right through her chest, but she didn’t dare let him know how much he affected her. She couldn’t decide whether to rush to him and ask his forgiveness on the spot. She felt like she’d turned to stone. She couldn’t think or move.
She was filled with blistering guilt.
“Austin, I’m so—”
His hands shot up to silence her. “Katia, leave. Now.”
“But, Austin, I want to talk to you.”
He shook his head. “Leave. It’s what you do best.”
Dear Reader (#ulink_16467713-5a81-526c-9b3f-5a0acfed9acb),
For those of you who are just discovering the Shores of Indian Lake, Katia’s Promise is the fourth book in the series. Although Katia’s story was the fourth one to be written, it was the vision of beautiful, guilt-ridden Katia returning to Indian Lake after nearly twenty years of living in Chicago that sparked the entire series. I had a vision of Katia standing under a streetlight across from an elegant home, daring herself to go in and confront the man she’d left brokenhearted when she was sixteen. I wanted a heroine who knew she’d “done wrong by him.”
Austin McCreary has never forgiven Katia. When she seems to blow into Indian Lake like a gale-force wind and crashes a presentation he’s giving in his home, he’s not happy to see her.
I hope you enjoy Katia’s story as much as I did when I finally put her stormy romance with Austin on paper.
I would love to hear if there’s a character you’ve seen mentioned in Indian Lake whose story you’d like to read. You can contact me at cathlanigan1@gmail.com or my website at catherinelanigan.com (http://www.catherinelanigan.com). You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and LinkedIn.
Catherine Lanigan
Katia’s Promise
Catherine Lanigan
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CATHERINE LANIGAN knew she was born to storytelling at a very young age when she told stories to her younger brothers and sister to entertain them. After years of encouragement from family and high school teachers, Catherine was shocked and brokenhearted when her freshman college creative-writing professor told her that she had “no writing talent whatsoever” and that she would never earn a dime as a writer. He promised her that he would get her through his demanding class with a B grade so as not to destroy her high grade point average, if Catherine would promise never to write again.
For fourteen years she did not write until she was encouraged by a television journalist to give her dream a shot. She wrote a 600-page historical romantic spy-thriller set against World War I. The journalist sent the manuscript to his agent who then garnered bids from two publishers. That was nearly forty published novels, nonfiction books and anthologies ago.
This book is dedicated to my husband, Jed Nolan, with all my love forever.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_c27a92d1-ac7a-5c75-9358-50119489d9c1)
I don’t know how many times my editors have had to pull their hair out over my manuscripts until, together, we finally create a jewel, but I’m hoping no one runs to a wig store on my account. Each time I sit down to the computer I say a prayer of thanksgiving for everyone at Heartwarming.
To my editor, Claire Caldwell, believe me, there aren’t enough words in this clunky English language to express my sincere gratitude for your brilliant guidance and creativity.
Many thanks to Victoria Curran for expecting superior storytelling out of me and all the authors. I also appreciate all you do out there in the real world to promote the line and the authors, and the push to get our books into more retail venues.
To all the Heartwarming staff, you are extraordinarily talented individuals, and it shows. From our unique and compelling covers to the cover copy to the daunting hours of promotion on social media it takes to make our presence known, thank you.
To Dianne Moggy—as always, I send you my sincere gratitude and affection.
Contents
Cover (#u19111fce-9e23-520b-909b-db974a78cff7)
Back Cover Text (#uf2570877-0a91-5d61-a621-abcd71cf9aa1)
Introduction (#ucdb7ccf2-7d63-5798-bb64-130751b5885f)
Dear Reader (#ulink_432696b3-ece7-5605-b2cb-4541b90da731)
Title Page (#uab6ab8d9-b503-59f0-abda-30597a5a6742)
About the Author (#uaf917ee6-3f80-5cee-845a-aaa46ac3bbbd)
Dedication (#u0e2ae8c0-0877-554b-90a9-40d11c67fe6e)
Acknowledgments (#ulink_cea6e392-83d4-518e-945f-4759f8fc6b7b)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_f3af3706-71cf-50f7-850d-b579184a53c6)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_6e1f16c9-6a0a-5b64-bd93-0dc68200433d)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_1764e97d-f118-5e7c-8f16-730459abac34)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_071968f9-9641-5847-a0b5-4a9459a4b58c)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_57c1b027-2d9a-5f93-b633-6e5efb8b9f4a)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_45ca0172-aa02-55fc-9c61-7cfff0236cde)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_aff884cc-b9e8-5a80-8ce8-3d35eb743173)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_9fa952e4-a578-596e-aa99-bf1eae8301e7)
GOLDEN AND BRONZE autumn sunset beams shot through the wooden slats on Katia’s high-rise apartment windows. She padded across the beige carpet in bare feet, rushing from the bathroom to the bedroom. She was late for her own party.
She’d spiraled a navy towel around her hair, then spritzed herself with jasmine-and-almond-scented body spray. Now, standing in front of her closet, she pulled out the black silk and lace sheath dress she’d recently bought at her favorite resale shop on the far North Side. The dress had obviously never been worn. Like most of the dresses at Sonja’s Secrets, this one had probably belonged to an affluent woman from Wilmette or Kenilworth who shopped out of boredom and not need. Katia hadn’t had time to be bored since she was very young. Ten years ago, she was too busy building her résumé and her reputation in the insurance business to shop, go to the movies or do anything other than work. Then she’d turned thirty, landed a job at Carter and Associates with Jack Carter, and in her four years there, she’d become a manager. She’d won confidence and approval.
She was on top of the world.
Katia zipped up the dress and turned to check herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. She smiled. The dress fit like a dream and showed off her slender figure, and the well-placed darts accentuated her waist. Katia only had two rules when it came to diet and exercise: no French fries, and she walked the twenty-one blocks to and from work every day. Life already had enough rules to follow, she thought.
Katia unfurled the towel and shook out her messy mane of coppery hair. She quickly applied black eyeliner to make the dark green of her eyes pop. She swooped on blusher and then uncapped a brand-new flame-red lipstick. The salesgirl at Macy’s had claimed it was such a powerful red, it would change her life.
Just then, Katia smelled something burning in the kitchen. The turnovers!
Tossing the lipstick onto her dresser, Katia raced, still barefoot, into the kitchen. The timer was chirping, and there was a thin stream of brown smoke coming from the oven. Using an orange pumpkin-shaped pot holder, she opened the oven and pulled out the cookie sheet of feta cheese, spinach and bacon phyllo dough appetizers.
Katia looked over the tray of golden crisp finger foods. Only one victim. I’m saved, she thought.
As she turned off the oven, the intercom rang. It was Joey, the doorman. “Miss Stanislaus. Your guests are arriving. In droves, I might add. Should I send them up?”
“Yes, Joey. Thanks.”
Katia hung up and quickly moved the hot appetizers onto a tiered serving stand. She took the stand into the dining nook, placed it strategically on the table and surveyed her work.
Katia’s apartment was small, but it had a large enough dining and living area that she could comfortably host small parties, like the engagement party she was throwing tonight for her coworker Tina and her fiancé, Allen. The kitchen was minuscule, but since Katia didn’t cook—except for when she had company—she didn’t mind. The bathroom was more of an alcove than a room, and the only saving grace in her bedroom was the walk-in closet, which housed the bounty of her bargain-hunting addiction.
The building had been constructed in the late 1950s and wasn’t very aesthetically pleasing. What it had going for it was great access to her work, security and a massive window that looked out over Chicago. Many was the night that Katia lived to see the lights glittering beneath her, as if she was walking on stars.
Katia smoothed the white cotton tablecloth she’d bought at an outlet store—yet another great bargain—and straightened the fruit platter of grapes, pears, melon wrapped in prosciutto, pineapple chunks speared with maraschino cherries, apples for dipping in caramel sauce and twin mounds of strawberries with chocolate fudge. She’d displayed an array of specialty cheeses on a slab of rough-edged marble she’d found at a granite and marble boneyard. She had four kinds of crackers and three bread selections.
She crossed to the antique marble-topped buffet on the wall next to the boring, mantel-less fireplace. This was the most important element of all—the bar.
Recently, Katia had discovered Crenshaw Vineyards while passing through her hometown, Indian Lake, on a business trip. She’d gone back four times, and now her wine rack and portable wine cooler were stocked with some of the best wines Katia had ever tasted. Katia had bought discount wineglasses and garage sale decanters, and she’d trawled eBay for the best deals on bar paraphernalia. But she never scrimped on the food and wine that she served to her guests.
Katia loved giving parties, and though she couldn’t afford florists, live music, caterers or even a bartender, she enjoyed making holidays and special events even more exceptional for her friends and coworkers. She wanted them to have happy memories.
“I want them to remember me,” Katia murmured as the doorbell rang.
Putting her hand on the doorknob, Katia scanned the room one more time. She couldn’t remember if she’d dusted the glass shelf in the bathroom or if she’d lit the scented candle in the kitchen.
There was a knock.
It was too late now for a last-minute check. Katia felt her heart pound ever so slightly, as it always did before an important meeting or a special event, then she whisked open the door.
“Hi, guys!” She beamed at Tina Goodman, her assistant at Carter and Associates, and Allen Hampton, the football coach for St. Michael’s High School. “If it isn’t the bride and groom!” The second the words were out of her mouth, Katia realized she still wasn’t wearing any shoes. She’d been so immersed in the food and decor, she’d forgotten to finish dressing. It wasn’t like her to be so scatterbrained, but she’d been noticing herself slipping up more often lately.
Allen—lean, blond and California handsome—kissed Katia’s cheek. “You look gorgeous, as always,” he said, winking at Tina and pulling her close with a possessive arm.
Katia smiled demurely. “But not as beautiful as the bride.” She squeezed Tina’s hand.
“Very diplomatic, both of you,” Tina teased. She gave Katia a quizzical look. “You’re shorter.”
“Uh! Didn’t have a chance to grab my shoes. Come in before the others get up here. I have to finish dressing.”
“We’re not early, are we?” Allen asked as Katia ushered them inside.
“No, no. It’s just me. I got behind somehow.”
Tina shook her head. “That’s hard for me to imagine.” She turned to Allen. “We call her Miss Excel at work. Because she’s so organized, we figure even her leg waxings are plugged into a spreadsheet.”
“I’m not that bad,” Katia replied defensively, showing them into the living room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I have to get my shoes.”
Allen grinned playfully and winked again at Tina. “Maybe some earrings, too, while you’re in there?”
Tina elbowed him and giggled.
Katia rushed to the bedroom, stuck her feet into a new pair of black Stuart Weitzman pumps and put on a pair of dangling emerald earrings and a bracelet to match. The ringing doorbell kept her from double-checking her reflection in the mirror.
On her way through the living room, she saw that Tina and Allen had found the wine bar and Allen was opening a bottle of Crenshaw Cabernet. “Thanks, guys. Oh, and open some pinot grigio while you’re at it, please?”
Katia answered the door. Filling the entrance were four couples and a single man, who stood inches taller than everyone else. His charisma dwarfed the group even more. Jack Carter.
“Welcome!” Katia beamed amid hugs and well wishes as her friends moved into the apartment. Jack was last. He bent and placed his hand on her shoulder and started to kiss her cheek, then abruptly pulled back. He smiled awkwardly, as if suddenly remembering she was his employee. He was the boss. “Thanks for inviting me, Katia.”
Jack had ironclad rules when it came to office romances. He forbade his employees from dating each other, and under no circumstances could anyone at Carter and Associates date a current or prospective client. Katia thought the rule was wise and necessary, considering the nature of their business. After all these years, however, Katia realized that the long hours and weekends she put in kept her single with a capital S.
Katia had very little time for dating, and even when she was at parties or functions, she was always scanning the crowds for new clients.
Katia was perpetually working the room. The company benefited from her dedication, but as she watched her friends gather in her living room, it struck her that all of her friends had paired up in the past few years. Tina was the only one who hadn’t gotten married yet, and this was her engagement party.
Only Katia and Jack were left.
She smiled at Jack and lifted her arm to usher him inside. “It wouldn’t be an office party without you,” she told him.
She glanced down the hall and looked back at Jack curiously. “Barry and Ava aren’t with you?”
Barry was Jack’s partner and brother-in-law. Jack’s sister, Ava, loved parties and never missed one of Katia’s gatherings. Ava had once told Katia that she secretly hoped Jack and Katia would pair up someday. As if that would ever happen.
Jack slapped his forehead. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. The baby got sick at the last minute. Fever, and Ava didn’t dare ask our mother to babysit.” He rolled his eyes. “She has tickets to the ballet tonight.” He wagged his finger. “Never mess with my mother’s ballet plans. Anyway, Barry didn’t feel quite right coming without Ava. He said he’d see you at the office on Monday.”
“Sure,” Katia replied dully, truly disappointed that she would miss seeing Ava. Ava was always so much fun, and before the baby had arrived six months ago, she was always up for resale shopping with Katia. Since little Kaylee had arrived, Ava had nearly dropped out of Katia’s life. She still called and texted, but it just wasn’t the same.
It wasn’t only Ava’s baby that had shaken up Katia’s life. Katia had felt subtle changes at work, too: a lost client she’d believed was a slam dunk, a corporate takeover that had caused them to lose a large account, Barry spending countless hours building a new website, new furrows across Jack’s brow.
“Katia!” Allen shouted. “Did you make these?” He held up one of her little turnovers. “With the wine—superb!”
“Thanks,” she replied, feeling uplifted by the compliment. She crossed to the bar and stood next to Jack, who had just poured a glass of red wine.
Katia took a glass for herself, a burgundy balloon she’d found at a closeout at Macy’s, and filled it slowly.
Jack took a sip and his eyes grew wide. “This is incredible. What is it?” He read the label on the bottle. “Crenshaw. Never heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t have. It’s a secret discovery of mine.”
“I want some,” he said in that firm, authoritative voice he used when issuing commands at work. “Can you get me a case?”
“Sure. I’ve made friends with the owner. Actually, Liz and I have started emailing back and forth. I’ll get on it right away.”
Jack flashed his mind-blowing, bone-melting smile at Katia, and she wondered if she’d ever learn how not to respond to it.
“Katia, you’re the best.”
“Thanks,” she replied feeling just the teensiest bit light-headed. She put down her glass. “I should see to dinner. Would you excuse me?”
“Can I help?” he offered with yet another earth-shattering smile. “I admit I’m not much good around food, other than the consumption of it, but I can lift heavy objects. Turkeys. Prime-rib roast.” He chuckled easily.
God, it would be so easy to fall for Jack.
“Thanks, but we’re having shrimp creole. I think I can manage.” Teetering in her high heels, Katia made it to the kitchen, where she grabbed onto the edge of the sink for stability.
Her heart was hammering, and she’d broken out in a cold sweat.
What was the matter with her? She’d worked with handsome Jack Carter for years. Day in, day out. Evenings. Weekends. She’d never reacted like this before.
Katia looked down at her hands as she let go of the sink. Shaking? I’m shaking?
Suddenly, she couldn’t catch her breath. She felt clammy and nauseous.
Tina walked into the kitchen, took one look at Katia and said, “Do you have any paper bags?”
Katia shook her head. “No, why?”
“You’re hyperventilating.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been there. You have to breathe your own air. I need a little brown bag.”
“Bloomingdales?” Katia forced a smile. “Corner cabinet. Next to the cookie sheets.”
Tina shot to the cabinet, withdrew a small paper shopping bag and then clamped it over Katia’s mouth. “Now breathe. Slowly. In and out. That’s a girl.”
Katia didn’t know what was happening, but the bilious taste in her throat had subsided, her stomach no longer rumbled and her head cleared. The ground under her feet was solid again. Tina had miraculously infused marrow back into her bones.
Katia took the bag away from her face. “Thank you, Tina. I don’t know what that was. I thought I was going to die. Or at least pass out. That’s never happened to me before.”
Tina pursed her lips. “You had a panic attack. I get them sometimes.”
Katia inhaled deeply and smoothed her hair. “Humph.” She pretended confidence she didn’t feel. “It’s never happened to me.”
Tina smirked as she glanced back into the living room and spied Jack talking to Allen. Her eyes tracked back to Katia. “Well, it has now.”
Despite her inexplicable anxiety attack, Katia’s party was a rousing success. The rice was fluffy, the shrimp tender and not overcooked and her homemade French bread and herb butter was gone before she could dish up seconds for Jack and Allen. While the candles flickered merrily and she served dessert with Tina’s help, everyone engaged in lively and thought-provoking conversations about the new play at the Oriental as well as city politics.
All in all, it was the kind of evening Katia had hoped it would be. It reminded her of a time, long ago, when she’d watched intelligent and interesting people gather around a glittering dinner table at Hanna McCreary’s mansion. Katia never forgot those conversations, nor the fact that the guests had never wanted to leave Hanna’s house before midnight. Even as a little girl, Katia had absorbed every nuance of Hanna’s talent for party giving. Tonight, her studies had paid off.
It was odd, Katia mused, as she dipped her spoon into the chocolate mousse, that Hanna should pop into her mind like that. She hadn’t thought of Hanna in a long time, though she had been Katia’s mentor in many ways.
Was it possible that these old memories had something to do with her earlier panic attack?
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_ede36ef7-0d45-57d7-b5b9-602e27fb8c7d)
WITH HER HEAD propped against three down pillows, Katia sat in bed and turned on her iPad. Her guests were gone and the kitchen was clean. With the sound of the dishwasher running in the background, Katia checked her emails. She clicked through the usual sale announcements from her favorite stores and a reminder about her dentist appointment later that week, then read a note from Ava apologizing for missing the party. Katia quickly answered Ava and promised to bring some of her chocolate mousse to the office for Barry to bring home. At least they’d get a taste of the party.
Because Katia had promised Jack that she would order a case of Crenshaw cabernet for him, she banged out a quick email to Liz Crenshaw. She’d been getting closer with Liz since her last trip through Indian Lake. Katia admired her drive and ambition, and she was impressed by Liz’s plans to expand her vineyard. Katia was also a very good customer, which had helped spark their friendship. She’d promised Liz she would recommend Crenshaw wines to all her friends. Since the wines were excellent and a good price, Katia didn’t have much trouble finding enthusiastic new customers for Liz.
Before typing out her order, Katia asked about Liz’s grandfather’s health. Sam had undergone open heart surgery just over a month ago, and she knew Liz had been spending a lot of time caring for him. Then she asked about the case of wine and requested that Liz set aside a half dozen bottles so she could restock her bar after tonight’s party.
Katia glanced at her digital alarm clock and was surprised it was not even ten o’clock. She was exhausted, and Jack had told her to “get some rest.” He’d mentioned something about being sharp for their Monday meeting.
Katia didn’t have the slightest idea what he’d meant by that, but he had seemed a bit preoccupied during dinner. The more she thought about it, the more she felt dread creeping up on her like a snake.
If there was something amiss with the company, Katia hoped Jack and Barry had enough confidence in her skills and professionalism to trust her with that information. She’d taken it as a good sign that Jack had attended the party for Tina. Her assistant was hardworking, intelligent and dedicated to the company. Katia believed that Jack recognized her own loyalty to Carter and Associates, and knew that she’d always been focused on becoming a partner. Insurance was one of the few businesses that still rewarded loyalty, longevity and impressively long client lists.
Katia had always intended to be nothing short of a stellar employee for Jack.
That was another reason she didn’t understand her panic attack. She’d been in a gazillion situations with Jack that many women would construe as romantic, yet they’d all been for work. They’d sailed into the sunset on Lake Michigan with clients, sipped French champagne on the lawn of a Lake Forest estate and danced to harp music at Christmas high tea at the Drake Hotel. Yet every moment had been strictly professional, in conjunction with Katia’s efforts to sign new clients.
Jack stuck to his rules like superglue. He’d never once acted inappropriately; never held her hand or gazed at her a fraction of a second too long.
Over the years, Katia had come to understand that Jack wasn’t into her. Period. And that had been okay.
Until tonight.
Tonight, Katia’s psyche, if not her conscious mind, had suddenly realized that Tina was the last of her friends to pair off. Everyone was married. Except Katia.
She didn’t have weekend lunches or theater matinees with her girlfriends anymore. And when they did manage to get together, half of them had to rush home to kids. Or, like Ava, they had to break dates because of a sick child.
Katia’s iPad dinged with a new email. Katia smiled as she opened the note from Liz.
Hi, Katia,
I’m so happy your friends like our wine so much and that you are true to your word about being my Chicago advertising advocate. I will be happy to put a case aside for you as well as the extra bottles. You can pick them up on your next trip through town. When do you think that will be? I’ve come to look forward to your visits, and though I don’t email on a daily basis, I’m apparently falling into the habit.
We’ve been busy with the harvest, but for me, there’s been a big change. Since I saw you only two weeks ago, Gabe and I got engaged! Because you two knew each other in high school, sharing the news with you was fine with him.
Katia groaned. “Not you, too! Is this some conspiracy?” She exhaled deeply, hoping to rid her cells of her growing envy. She read further.
Honestly, I’ve never been into the white-dress thing, though nearly all my girlfriends are. Frankly, Gabe and I are talking about eloping. Or a seriously small wedding. Don’t say a word—not that you know that many people here anymore! We just don’t see any point in waiting another week, to be honest. Who knows, by the time you come through Indian Lake again, I may be married!
And thank you for asking about my grandfather’s health. He’s doing amazingly well. I can’t believe it, to be honest.
The reason we’re still up is because we just got back from driving an order into town. It was last minute and our customer can be rather demanding when he wants to be. Actually, it’s pretty exciting for us in Indian Lake. Austin McCreary—you probably wouldn’t have known him when you lived here since I think he’s quite a few years older than us. But anyway, we’re excited because he decided to build a car museum on the south side of town. He’s giving a big show-and-tell for the City Council, the Mayor and the Northwest Indiana Tourism Board members and officers. Should be around fifty people. Actually, I’m going to bartend for him, which is another chance to get our wines advertised and “out there.” But Grandpa is fine. He’ll be so pleased when I tell him that our wines were such a hit at your party.
Let me know when you’ll be coming through town. I don’t want to miss you!
Fondly,
Liz
Katia threw back the covers and shot out of bed as if she’d been set on fire. She raked her fingers through her long hair and pulled it tightly away from her face. Any thoughts of sleep were distant.
“This isn’t happening. Austin?”
Katia paced at the end of her bed and then left the bedroom. She went straight to the kitchen and poured a tall glass of milk, took out a full bowl of chocolate mousse and sat at her small table. Her mind raced as she shoved the mousse into her mouth.
She’d made four trips through Indian Lake and hadn’t once thought about Austin. Oh, no. Instead, tonight, when I practically felt as if I was having a heart attack... Now he comes back to haunt me.
She knocked back a big slug of milk. A car museum. Humph. What’s that all about, Austin? As if you need a museum.
Katia finished off the mousse and swallowed the last of the milk. The dishwasher was still running, so she put her dishes in the sink.
Padding quietly into the living room, she sank onto the sofa. The truth was that Indian Lake and Austin McCreary were part of her past. All these years that she’d been in Chicago, working toward her dream of becoming a partner at Carter and Associates, she’d barely thought about her childhood. It was her job and the need to go beyond Chicago to find clients—not nostalgia—that had led her back to Indian Lake this summer. She’d stumbled upon Crenshaw Vineyards, and her new friendship with Liz was the reason she’d returned on several occasions.
Katia had stuffed her past deep down inside her, refusing to bring those shadows into the light. She knew all too well that it could be dangerous to allow those memories to rise to the surface.
Katia had grown up in a mansion in Indian Lake filled with elegant antiques. Katia’s mother, Stephania, had been the housekeeper, but Katia had paid attention to every nuance of Hanna and Daniel McCreary’s lifestyle. Because Stephania had been responsible for overseeing the McCrearys’ everyday schedule, as well as holiday events and dinner parties, Katia had eased into whatever job needed doing, from sous chef to table decorator to bartender. Before Katia had hit her teens, she’d learned about wines from Mr. McCreary. Katia had developed a sharp palate, which she believed was even better than Austin’s at the time.
Austin was three years older than Katia. She hadn’t seen him since the summer she was sixteen, when she and her mother had left Indian Lake. That was the summer Katia had known for certain that Austin had finally fallen in love with her. She’d been in love with him since the day she and her mother had moved into the McCreary mansion when she was only seven years old.
Katia’s parents were immigrants from Russia. Her father had been a mason and tile layer until his death in a truck accident on the South Side of Chicago. Katia’s mother, Stephania, spoke very little English and had never worked in her life before her husband’s death. A friend from their church had told Stephania she knew of two people looking for a full-time housekeeper. Stephania had applied for both jobs, but Hanna McCreary had wanted a live-in housekeeper, and Stephania couldn’t turn down the offer of free room and board for her and Katia.
Daniel McCreary owned a large auto-parts manufacturing plant and a retail store in Indian Lake. That same year, he had signed a very large corporate contract, which required him to spend more hours at the plant and less time at home with his wife and son. Hanna was the president of three charities and overwhelmed with her duties.
Stephania and Katia lived in the rear rooms on the first floor with their own entrance at the back, next to the driveway that led to one of three large old carriage houses. These buildings had been converted into garages to house Daniel’s collection of antique cars.
When they were kids, Austin often treated Katia like a pest and did his best to pretend, especially around his school friends, that she wasn’t anyone special to him. But in the long summer evenings when the light refused to fade and children’s attentions were not easily occupied, Austin had sought Katia out for tennis matches on the family clay courts, a swim in the pool, games of chess or Monopoly when it rained. She was his partner when his mother had forced him to take dancing lessons, and she had held a foil and worn thick cotton armor when he’d learned to fence.
Even then, Katia had known that she was only a substitute playmate for Austin, someone to stand in when his father was too busy to see him, but she didn’t care. She thought Austin walked through the stars at night and skated on sunbeams in the day. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. When Austin was with her, he was happy, carefree and inquisitive. She didn’t care that he shunned her as a “servant” when he was trying to impress his school friends, though at times, their barbs pierced the edges of her feelings. Katia believed that Austin would be her hero and come to her rescue if she ever truly needed it. She believed they were closer than any two people alive and only she knew the “real” Austin.
When Austin was fifteen and she was twelve, Daniel McCreary died. Gone was the man Austin had revered and tried to emulate. She remembered eavesdropping on dinner conversations where Daniel would herald the accomplishments of his grandfather, Ambrose McCreary, who had been one of the pioneer automobile designers at the turn of the century in Indianapolis. He’d talked to his son about Duesenbergs, Auburn Cords and Studebakers. Names from the past, connoting elegance and innovation. Katia had been enthralled as Daniel had spun his dreams of manufacturing replacement parts for antique cars. Austin had continually nagged his father for more stories about Ambrose and the kind of mind that he’d had. More than once, Katia had heard Austin say, “I should have been born back then. I could have been great like him.”
Though she’d understood that Austin was expected to take over his father’s manufacturing plant once he finished business college, for Austin, life without his father in it was like sleepwalking.
Daniel’s funeral had been on Valentine’s Day. Afterward, nearly a hundred people had come to the McCreary mansion for an enormous buffet dinner reception. They’d eaten, drunk, cried, laughed and reminisced.
That night, a blizzard had barreled into Indian Lake, nearly shutting down the interstate. Many guests had been snowbound and talked about sleeping on the library floor until the weather cleared up.
For Austin, it had all been too much. He’d disappeared.
Katia had been frantic until she’d glanced out her bedroom window and seen a faint light glowing in one of the carriage houses. She pulled on her boots and coat, and, taking an envelope from under the sweaters in her dresser drawer, she’d clomped through the new-fallen snow to the carriage house.
She’d found Austin sitting in a blue 1926 Bugatti convertible—Daniel’s favorite. Austin had been sobbing his heart out.
Katia was careful not to make any noise as she approached the car. Daniel had never allowed her to look at the cars, much less touch them. Austin, however, had gleefully sneaked her into the carriage houses each time his father had acquired a new beauty. Austin had been all too happy to display his extensive knowledge of the features and history of each car. He’d taken pride in the fact that his father would go to great lengths to find authentic chrome bumpers for his Duesenberg or brass and glass headlamps for a 1920 Stutz Bearcat. Katia had loved the romance of the exquisite cars with their leather seats, velvet upholstered doors and sterling silver flower vases. It was her way of living in another era by literally touching objects from bygone times.
Sometimes Katia would double-dare Austin into sitting in the 1955 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud. She liked to pretend she was a movie star or a princess in Monaco. Anyone but who she was—the maid’s daughter.
Most of the time, Austin obliged her. He’d told her that since she understood his love for antique cars, she had to be his “kindred soul.” She hadn’t known what that meant at the time, so she’d looked it up in one of the books in Daniel’s library. When she’d read the meaning, she’d wondered if this was Austin’s way of telling her that she was special to him.
She’d just begun to feel as if they were becoming real friends when Daniel had died.
Katia eased her hand over the side of the door and opened it from the inside so as not to smudge the polished exterior. Usually, touching the precious car would have been an invasion, but Katia felt that the world had somehow changed.
It was time for Austin to learn that she was more than just the housekeeper’s daughter and his stand-in playmate. Austin’s eyes were swollen. “Katia. I should have known you would find me.”
“I’m not leaving. Even if you ask me,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat.
“I won’t,” he said, wiping his tears on his tweed jacket sleeve. He folded his arms across the steering wheel and then laid his face on them. “I can’t believe he’s gone. What will I do?”
“What you’ve always done. You’ll grow. Learn and become a man,” she said with a tiny shrug.
“I miss him so much already,” Austin said. He gulped, sounding to Katia as if he’d swallowed something very large. She understood the feeling intensely.
“I know you do,” she said softly, looking at the round dials on the metal dashboard. “That part never goes away.”
His face twisted into a grimace of disdain and disbelief. “What do you—” He stopped abruptly. “I’m so sorry, Katia. So sorry. Of course you know how I feel. You know exactly how I feel. None of the people I go to school with have lost their dads. But you have.” Tears filled his eyes, yet he studied her as if he was seeing her for the first time. “It’s been a while since you talked about your father. Do you still miss him?”
“Every day,” she whispered, a flame igniting at the base of her esophagus and flaring up into her throat. “He—he used to call me Katia lyubov.”
“Louie bov?”
“Lyubov. That’s how you say it.” She nodded. “It means Katia love.”
“He was a sentimental man, then?” Austin asked.
“Yes. He worked hard all his life, but my mother said he had the heart of a poet. She always loved fine things, and he wanted to give them to her—that’s why he worked so hard to bring us to America. He told her he would give her the world, but—”
“He died,” Austin finished for her. “Just like my dad.”
“Yes. Now they’re together. Watching over us, my mother says.”
“Do you believe her?” Austin asked solemnly.
“I do.”
“But how can you know? For sure, I mean. Sometimes I think that whole heaven thing is just another fairy tale.”
“You’re just angry right now. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I am angry. My dad wasn’t supposed to die. He was too young. We had great plans for after graduation. He told me we were going to go to Germany together and drive the autobahn. I wanted to see how they made German cars. I wanted to take classes over there and learn to fix all kinds of foreign cars.”
Katia looked away from him. “Your mother was never going to allow that to happen and you know it.”
“My dad could have talked her into it.”
“She would never let you be a mechanic. Even I know that! She wants you to be a businessman and get a degree from Harvard.”
“Well, it’s not what I want. Besides, I don’t see any other man of the house around here now, do you?” he asked.
“No.”
“See? That’s how things have changed. I’ll be making the rules now.”
Katia chuckled at the lofty tilt to his chin and the smirk on his lips.
She pushed her face up against his. “Don’t you ever look at me like that again, Austin McCreary, or I will never speak to you again. You are not the boss of me and never will be. You got that?”
Austin moved back a few inches. “I just meant that things will be different.”
“Yes. They will. But our parents still make the rules. We don’t have any power yet.”
“Power?”
“That’s what my mom says all the time. She must remind me twice a day that I’m only a servant’s kid. I have no power. That’s why I have to graduate high school and go to college. I think your mother is right about that, too.”
“But I don’t want to run the family business. I want to work on antique cars.”
“Well, I want to be a movie star.”
“You’re pretty enough,” Austin said with a smile that Katia knew she’d remember the rest of her life.
“Austin, I’m not sure what I actually want to be. That’s just what I want right now. I’ll probably change my mind a bunch before I’m even your age. I only know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
She reached into the pocket of her winter coat and pulled out the envelope that she’d hidden in her drawer for a week. “I want to give you this.” She handed it to him.
Austin took the envelope. “What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
Carefully, he pulled out a folded piece of red construction paper. It opened into a heart. On it, Katia had glued bits of white lace she’d found in the attic, and she’d written snippets of Russian poems. She’d folded over pale blue pieces of construction paper and glued them to the heart, as well. Each of the folded notes contained dates.
“What is this? July 17? And September 26? I don’t understand.”
“Those are special days to me. On July 17, the summer I first came to live here, you taught me to ride a bike. On September 26, you finally let me play tennis with two of your friends. You said you needed another person for doubles.”
“Yes. Last year. And we beat them,” he said.
“Christmas is always a special day here. And so is Halloween. That’s why I put those dates down.”
Austin looked at her then, and for the first time, Katia was aware of a boy looking at her with love in his eyes. She felt her heart thrum and warmth surged through her. She didn’t know if what she was feeling was normal or not, but it was incredibly exciting.
“And today is February 14. Valentine’s Day,” Austin said, reaching over to touch her hand. “I don’t have a card for you. I don’t have one for anyone. I guess I didn’t think much about it.”
“I made the card a while ago.”
“Before my father’s heart attack.”
“Yeah.”
“So you didn’t give me this just to make me feel better today?”
“No.”
“Then, why?”
“I want to be your friend, Austin. Your real friend. Always.”
“I’d like that, Katia,” he’d said as he gently folded the Valentine, put it in the envelope and slipped it into the breast pocket of his tweed jacket.
“Always...” Katia said out loud, jolting out of her reverie. Of all her memories of Austin, that Valentine’s Day was the sweetest. But what happened afterward made it painful to remember, too.
Austin hadn’t had a single opportunity to make any rules for himself. That autumn, his mother had shipped him off to New York to attend York Prep School, where he’d remained until his graduation.
With Austin away at school, Katia felt as if she’d been set adrift on an iceberg in the middle of the Black Sea. Katia didn’t know whom to blame. At times she felt as if she’d done something wrong, but her love for Austin wouldn’t allow her to hide in shame. Other times, she was angry that Hanna would think so ill of her that she couldn’t trust Katia and Austin to be alone. Through it all, she was lonely without Austin and she missed him more than she’d thought possible. By the time she was sixteen, they’d truly fallen in love, and the days without him were torturously long and empty. Nothing she did could fill the void. She counted the days until he came home for holidays. She wrote long letters to him and mailed them without Stephania’s or Hanna’s knowledge.
Though he never wrote back, he called her every Sunday night just after his weekly call to his mother. Katia waited in her bedroom and told her mother that one of her girlfriends was on the phone. Austin had to stand in line for a pay phone in his dorm, with other boys hanging over his shoulder, and the calls were often strained and awkward. Too often, Katia hung up in tears.
When Austin did come home for vacations, Katia made a fool of herself by hanging on to him, begging for kisses and promising to do everything and anything he asked. Then he would leave again for school and the torture would start all over.
Katia was so caught up in her obsession with Austin that she didn’t realize her wise and sharp-eyed mother had seen and heard everything.
Stephania was convinced Katia would get pregnant on Austin’s next school break. There was barely enough income to contribute to Katia’s upcoming schooling as it was. The cost of a third mouth to feed—not to mention the time and energy required to care for a baby—would diminish any hopes Katia had of attending college, and her future opportunities would dwindle. Stephania told her daughter that her own job in the McCreary household would be on the line if things went too far with Austin. He would come out of the scandal unscathed, while Katia and Stephania would pay the price—financially and emotionally.
Katia tried to convince her mother that she was wrong about her and Austin, but Stephania couldn’t be swayed. Before Austin returned home, Stephania announced to Hanna that she wanted to quit. In a matter of days they’d moved to Stephania’s cousin’s house on the South Side of Chicago.
Katia was devastated. She was impossibly in love with Austin, and she believed in her heart that he loved her back. But the shame she felt when she overheard her mother explain their sudden appearance in Chicago to her cousins was unbearable. Katia would always know that because of her love for Austin, her mother had lost a good income. They’d been forced to take charity from their family.
Yet being without Austin was agonizing, and Katia cried every night for months after the move. Still, she was embarrassed by the way she’d acted around him; when they were together, she couldn’t think straight, much less make intelligent decisions. Though Katia knew that she would never have gotten pregnant, she had to admit her mother was right that her relationship with Austin could have compromised her future and well-being.
The only way to cure her addiction to Austin was to never write or call him again. She despised herself for not contacting him, but at the time, she’d felt she had no choice. She had to make a new life and put Austin in the past—forever.
Fortunately, Stephania landed a good-paying job at a luxury hotel in downtown Chicago. She loved her work and often brought Katia to the city to shop and eat in the hotel dining room. Stephania adored Chicago city life, and this was her way of trying to make amends with Katia after taking her away from Indian Lake. Those had been good years, despite Katia’s broken heart. Stephania had remained at the hotel until she’d died of cancer nearly ten years ago.
Katia had come a long way since she’d lived in Indian Lake. But thinking of Austin now, she rediscovered a lead coat of guilt she thought she’d long ago discarded.
Katia had broken Austin McCreary’s heart, and she’d never apologized, never tried to contact him. Never once had she lifted a finger to do the right thing.
She was the bad guy.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_d535c713-9f30-53c0-a8a8-b43047010718)
KATIA WAS WEARING a gray wool pencil skirt, a black turtleneck cashmere sweater and black pumps when she walked into Jack’s office on Monday morning. Jack had called her in for a brainstorming meeting with him and Barry. She carried a legal pad, pen and the chocolate mousse for Barry.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said cheerily, placing the foil-wrapped cake on the credenza behind Barry’s chair. “That’s for you and Ava.”
Barry glared at the wrapped silver lump. “Thanks. What is it?”
Katia’s smile dropped from her face. She noticed Jack’s head was down as he peered at a report of some kind in front of him. The tension in the room was as thick as February fog and nearly as visible. “Cake. Okay, guys. What’s up?”
Barry glanced out the window.
Coward.
Slowly, Jack raised his head, and his dark eyes settled on her. “Have a seat. Want some coffee?”
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Let’s get to it. You look like you could use something.”
“Something,” Jack mumbled.
Katia stared at the partners. She didn’t like the way they were avoiding her gaze, and Jack’s face almost wore pity. She felt her blood turn to ice. “You’re firing me.”
Jack folded his hands on his desk. “I think that’s a little drastic just yet.”
Barry squirmed in his chair. “I had suggested some staff cuts, but Jack disagreed. The problem is that for all intents and purposes, the company is most likely going down.”
Katia pressed her fingertips into her temples. “Wait a minute. Back up. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? We’re supposed to be brainstorming. Maybe I can help.”
Barry swiped his face with his palm. “Right now, we’re bleeding money. If we cut your salary and lay off a few employees, Jack and I might be able to hang on.”
“A couple of the... You mean Tina?” Katia couldn’t believe this.
Apparently, whatever mess they were in, Barry’s solution was retreat. Well, she’d tried that strategy once in her life and look where it had gotten her. No. Retreat was out of the question. No wonder Jack had wanted her to stay sharp for this meeting. These guys needed a miracle.
Jack leaned forward. “I didn’t tell you last night, Katia, but on Friday, Tina handed in her notice. After the wedding, she and Allen are moving to Wisconsin. He got a job as assistant coach at the university.”
“But...she didn’t say a word to me.” Katia felt wounded and slightly betrayed that Tina hadn’t confided in her. Clearly, Tina saw their relationship differently than Katia. Tina was Jack’s employee and Katia’s assistant. They weren’t friends, as Katia had assumed. No, Tina had probably read the situation correctly. Katia should have known better than to assume her work relationships were anything more.
Katia’s mind kicked into warp speed. She may have been wrong to get so invested in her friendships with colleagues, but if she wanted to keep whatever career she had left, she needed to come up with a brilliant plan to save her job.
“Can I at least say my piece?”
Barry sliced the air with his arm. “I don’t see how—”
Jack cut him off. “Go ahead, Katia.” He shot Barry a quelling look. Barry frowned but told her to go on. Katia took a deep breath and decided to give it all she had. “Since the first day I walked into these offices, I knew I was in the right place and that I would help your company grow. I took pride in my work, and I still do. You both know my goal is to eventually become a partner here. I want equal say, equal pay and equal respect. I want to grow old with this company. You two may be the last honest guys in the insurance business, and I swear to you, I have no problem convincing clients of that. I also know I could sell our plans to the devil himself if I had to.” She stood up and put a hand on her slim hip. “So out with it. What’s going on?”
Jack exhaled and leaned back in his chair. He twirled a ballpoint pen in his fingers. “All right, truth time. You’re aware that we’ve been pushing for new clients. That’s why we sent you up to Michigan and Indiana. You brought us three good companies, but it’s not enough.” Jack paused and glanced at Barry, who gave him a slight nod. “Katia, our expenses are eating us up. Both Barry and I have taken a pay cut. But the corporate taxes doubled this year. We got notice two months ago that our rent has increased by more than half. Sure, we could move—”
“But rents are skyrocketing in Chicago,” Barry cut in. “Add to that the mounting cost of benefits and the 401(k) program. It’s not what it was when you first signed on.”
“That’s why Barry came up with the idea to become a web-based business. Our site is really shaping up—I think Barry’s done a great job.”
Katia smiled at Barry. “It’s a good move. It shows we’re on top of the times, and it gives us access to people in other states without having to travel. But it’s not enough, is it?”
“No,” Jack replied.
Katia tried to concentrate. Coming up with a good idea felt like chopping through a jungle with only a butter knife. Then she had it. She pictured a billboard she’d driven by on one of her trips to Indiana. Stillinoyed? it had read.
The billboard was a direct slam against the political system that was strangling Illinois businessmen like Jack and Barry. Katia had read articles about the steady stream of Chicago-area businesses that were relocating to Indiana. The state was trying to entice companies with lower corporate and property taxes, less regulation and more affordable goods and services.
“How far would you be willing to move?” she asked the partners.
Jack stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“You just said you’d move across town to lower your rent. How about moving a little farther? Say, out of state, to Indiana. I was thinking about Indian Lake, to be specific. It’s only an hour away. Great access to the city on the tollway or the interstate. South Shore runs through there. I will bet the rents are a third of what you’re paying. We’d have to let the staff here go, but I could hire locals for the office. Barry can stay here and run the online business so he doesn’t have to move Ava and the baby. For now anyway. It’ll be bare bones, Jack. You and me. We’ll run the office and build our clientele from there.”
“Pshht.” Barry waved off Katia’s idea before she had a chance to finish talking. “It’ll never work.”
“Why not?” Katia demanded.
Barry raised his eyebrows in contempt. “New clients? From Indian Lake? You’re out of your mind.”
Think, Katia. Think.
“Jack just told you my three clients from Michigan are good ones.”
“Not enough,” Barry countered. “We have the entire city of Chicago at our fingertips and we’re not getting anywhere.”
“That’s because the companies here want to be with the big brokers. If they’re not dealing with Lloyds of London, they’re not happy. But if we move out of our box just a bit and concentrate on smaller communities, people and business in middle America, I think they’ll want us. They’re dying for someone they can trust. That’s what they’re missing. They need us!” Katia felt adrenaline spiral through her body. At this point in her pitch, she was convinced she could have sold freezers to Alaskans.
“It’s too drastic,” Barry grumbled.
Jack peered at Katia. “We need drastic. And I like this. Keep talking, Katia.” He folded his arms over his chest.
He was challenging her. If she could pull this off, she knew Jack would back her for a partnership. It was a long way to go and there would be a lot of work ahead, but she could do this. “I just got wind of a large account that’s coming up.”
“How large?” Barry asked, suddenly more curious than condemning.
“Millions, from what I remember.”
“Okay, you have my curiosity,” Jack said. “Go on.”
“I grew up in Indian Lake.” She held up a palm to stop their protests before they started. “Trust me, this isn’t about childhood nostalgia or anything like that. In fact, I haven’t kept in touch with anyone from back then. Austin McCreary is one of the wealthiest men in town—heir to a family fortune. He’s the only McCreary remaining now, but his father left him his antique car collection when he died. Tomorrow, Austin is announcing to the city council his intention to build a car museum in Indian Lake. Can you imagine how much that building alone will cost?”
“I can’t. Why doesn’t the guy just put them in a garage?”
“He has garages. Three of them. Carriage houses, actually, and they were already full of cars when I was a kid. I’ll do some checking around and find out what kind of valuation we’re talking about. But the way I see it, he’ll have to cover the cars and the museum, there will be liability insurance for the museum workers, and he’ll need an umbrella liability plan for the visitors.”
“What kind of cars?” Jack asked.
“The 1926 Bugatti is my favorite,” Katia replied with a smug grin.
Barry whistled appreciatively. “This is for real? Holy cow!”
Jack beamed with confidence, and Katia was struck with the notion that she’d given him back his charisma. “Can you get into that meeting tomorrow?”
“I...I think so.”
“Do it,” Jack commanded. “I like this idea of yours, Katia. All of it. I don’t have a problem moving to a small town if it will save our hides. Keep an eye out for office space while you’re there. And get me this guy’s business. I don’t care what it takes. A guy like that has to have friends, and if he likes us and our products, he’ll get them to come on board with us, too.”
“Good thinking,” Barry said with his first real smile of the day.
Katia should have floated out of Jack’s office on a cloud of victory. Instead, as she left the meeting, she realized she’d just slipped a hangman’s noose around her throat. Oh, she’d saved the day, all right. But she knew that if there was anyone Austin McCreary would never, ever do business with—it was her.
Katia wished she could rewrite the past, but that was impossible. She would have to figure out another way to change Austin’s mind.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_d841c9ec-b071-5436-bb99-e7b52ba98d55)
AUSTIN MCCREARY SHOVED his tennis racket into a battered brown leather cover, zipped it up and waited for Rafe Barzonni to come around to his side of the clay tennis court. Austin had been playing on this court, in his own backyard, since he was five years old. “Great game, Rafe.”
“Anytime, man. You still have the best court in the Midwest. Not to mention a killer backhand I’m never going to beat.”
“You’re just a glutton for punishment.”
“Self-inflicted abuse is not my thing, Austin. Seriously, I’ve seen guys at Wimbledon who look as good as you.”
“Ha!” Austin picked up a white hand towel from the wrought iron table and wiped the sweat from his face. His blond hair was dripping wet. “Tournaments are for young kids. Ones with lots of talent and support. I never had either,” he said, his voice filling with regret.
Rafe grabbed his own towel. “Sorry, bro. I know you have talent—for a lot of things. You just don’t want anyone to know it, that’s all.”
“You’ve got that right. Besides, you’re just bad enough to make me feel good,” Austin bantered back good-naturedly. “Honestly, I appreciate you being able to play this early in the morning. I’ve got fifty-some odd people due here at one, and I swear, I’d never get through it if I didn’t have a chance to work off some steam.” Austin slapped Rafe on the shoulder as they walked through the terrace door and into the kitchen.
At the sink, Austin’s sixty-one-year-old housekeeper, Daisy Kempshaw, was peeling an apple. Daisy was short, as thin as one of Austin’s rackets and capable of taking on both Austin and Rafe in tennis, a shouting match and just about any other confrontation. Daisy approached life on the offensive rather than the defensive. She was rough, scrappy and had the energy of six men.
“No strawberries and cream today,” Daisy announced before Austin had a chance to greet her.
“I didn’t ask for any,” Austin said.
“Wipe your feet, the both of you,” Daisy said. “I just mopped.” Then she pointed toward the hallway door. “The caterer is here unloading in the dining room. She’s taken up all my refrigerator space with her food, and there’s no room for you to eat breakfast with all her whatnots strewn across the nook table.”
Austin glanced at the round walnut table that sat in a huge beveled glass window area on the far side of the kitchen. It was stacked with boxes of serving pieces, rental glasses, china and linens.
“Good,” he muttered. “I didn’t want to use mother’s good china and silver for this event.”
Rafe picked up his small workout bag. “Well, I’m outta here. See you Saturday, Austin. Nine o’clock?”
“Perfect!” Austin shook his friend’s hand.
Rafe strode over to the swinging kitchen door and pushed it open.
“Ow!” came a cry from the other side.
“Oh, boy,” Rafe said. He stepped back gingerly.
Standing on the other side of the door was Olivia Melton, dressed in dark jeans and a chef’s coat, her hair pulled on top of her head in a tight knot. She held a tray of artistically arranged vegetables in one hand and pressed her other hand to her forehead.
“I’m so sorry,” Rafe apologized. “Are you hurt badly?”
“I’ll live,” she said.
Austin raced to the freezer. “Some ice will do the trick.”
Olivia shook her head. “No time. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m really sorry,” Rafe repeated. “I didn’t know you were there.”
Olivia waved him off. “It’s okay. I’m just in a hurry. I have work to do and not enough time to do it in.”
Rafe glanced at Austin, who shrugged. “Okay. I’ll see you, Austin.”
When Rafe had closed the front door behind him, Daisy threw Austin a judgmental look. “You better get showered, mister. Your folks will be here in forty-five minutes.” She checked the clock that hung over the kitchen sink. “Make that forty-two.”
“I’ll be ready.” He turned to Olivia. “I’m sorry about the accident. Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?”
Now Daisy’s warning look was aimed at Olivia. “You? Uh, not a thing. I’ll have the buffet table set up in twenty minutes and the poached salmon to decorate. I’ll put the rest out after your speech.”
“And the bartender?” Austin asked.
“Liz is on her way,” Daisy assured him, continuing to peel apples for the fruit tray.
“Then, I guess we’re ready.”
Daisy speared him with another quelling glare. “We will be when you quit sweating on my clean kitchen floor.”
“Got it,” he said, rushing out of the kitchen and down the hall.
Just as he was about to climb the staircase, he stopped and poked his head into the living room. The noonday sun poured through the windows and illuminated the room with an ethereal glow. Austin and Daisy had moved the furniture to the perimeter, leaving a large open space for the guests to gather around the architect’s model of the car museum he intended to build.
The model sat majestically on a round Sheridan table. It was only balsa wood, glue, paper and cardboard at this point, but for Austin, it was real. Chase Tinsdale, the Chicago architect he’d hired, had transformed Austin’s vision into matter.
Austin’s grandfather, Ambrose, had built the McCreary mansion to be a close, though more modern, replica of the Hermitage, the home of his idol and favorite president, Andrew Jackson. To honor his grandfather, Austin had chosen the same architectural design for the museum.
For three generations, the consensus in Indian Lake was that the McCreary home was the most beautiful in town. The classic lines and elegance befitted the family’s name. To fashion the museum after the house was also Austin’s attempt at building a family brand.
To cut costs, Chase had eliminated the two flanking wings on the north and south sides, since the museum would be facing west. There would be three floors, accessible by elevator, and two sets of stairs, though they wouldn’t be as fancy as the cantilevered one in Austin’s home. Chase had also altered the original design to accommodate an extralarge elevator to move the cars around the building. On the main floor were a small café, a larger restaurant, a gift shop and administrative offices. The inner rotunda was large enough to display four cars. The second and third floors were designated for displaying cars, as well.
Chase had proposed using UV protective glass windows around the building, allowing light in but keeping out the aging rays that, over time, would act like battery acid on historically correct auto paint.
Austin smiled widely. He’d dreamed of this museum since the day his dad died. Finally, his tribute to his father and grandfather would be a reality.
“Austin!” Daisy yelled from the kitchen. “I don’t hear that shower running!”
Austin chuckled to himself. No one had ever bossed him around like his housekeeper. “I’m going!”
Austin took the carpeted stairs two at a time, whistling loudly.
* * *
KATIA ARRIVED AT the McCreary mansion at one o’clock sharp. She parked the rental car on Maple Avenue, at the far end of a long line of vehicles, all apparently here for the presentation.
Just seeing the house she had once called home caused her chest to tighten and her heart to pound. Her mouth was so dry she felt as if she’d been chewing on cotton balls all morning. She touched her forehead. Sure enough, she was perspiring already.
Katia, what are you doing?
She didn’t understand what was happening to her. Faced with the possibility of losing her job, she’d responded with arrogant courage. She’d had to come up with company-saving solutions at the speed of light, and she’d had to pretend she believed in what she was saying.
She’d been scared stiff then, but her show of confidence had served her well, because somehow she’d convinced both Jack and Barry that they’d never heard anything better in their lives. Now she just had to persuade herself.
She smoothed the lapels of her navy wool suit, picked up her matching purse from the seat and got out of the car.
The moment she turned to face the mansion, she froze. The house couldn’t have been more imposing if it was Buckingham Palace.
Her reaction was absolutely ridiculous. She knew every inch of the house, the grounds...even the pool equipment. She should have been comforted by the fact that this was simply a reunion of sorts.
But she didn’t feel safe at all. This has got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever come up with.
She couldn’t believe she was back here to see Austin. She had no clue if he was married or had children. Did he have a girlfriend or fiancée now? Did he ever think about her? Katia had always assumed Austin held a grudge against her for cutting him out of her life when she’d moved to Chicago. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she’d just been the maid’s daughter after all—an insignificant blip in his teenage life. Maybe he didn’t remember her at all.
Yes, Katia carried a great deal of guilt because she’d never contacted him, but there was a case to be made for the fact that after that summer, she hadn’t heard from Austin, either.
Would he greet everyone at the door? And if he did, what was she going to say? She’d thought about sneaking around to the back door and entering through the kitchen. She knew just how to jimmy the latch on the wooden gate to get in. Katia had devised a dozen excuses to give to Austin if he tried to throw her out. She’d settled on the truth.
She would tell him that she’d been passing through Indian Lake on business over the summer and that Liz had told her about the museum. Since his presentation was open to the public, she had decided to use the opportunity to see him again.
Katia couldn’t predict how difficult it was going to be to sell her insurance to Austin. She had tried to factor in every possible angle and outcome of her pitch so that she was somewhat prepared for whatever he threw at her. What she hadn’t considered was this sudden panic attack. She knew she could sell her product to just about anyone, but she had to remain in control to do it.
Katia’s hands were shaking. This was impossible. She had to act cool, professional and knowledgeable. Fear was not acceptable.
She noticed a black Cadillac Escalade pull up in front of the McCreary house. The doors opened, and six well-dressed men and women got out and went into the house.
Showtime.
She inhaled deeply to steel her nerves, lifted her chin and crossed the street.
Time to face my past.
Katia slipped in the front door behind the group from the Escalade. Austin was already addressing the group. She’d only had twenty-four hours to prepare for crashing his party, but even a lifetime wouldn’t have prepared her to see Austin again.
In her mind, Austin had remained eighteen, so this blond, self-assured, handsome, tanned, enthusiastic man who held everyone spellbound was a shock.
Though he wore black pants and a simple white shirt, the way he pointed out the historic details of the Doric columns flanking the entrance and the use of Indiana limestone for the walkways and porches spoke of sophistication and manners that Katia hadn’t seen since she’d lived here.
Katia caught Liz Crenshaw’s eye and stealthily moved along the back wall to stand next to her.
“Glad you could make it,” Liz whispered with a smile.
“Thanks for telling me about it.”
Next to Liz was a petite elderly woman wearing a black-and-white print dress. She smiled at Katia, and her clear, cornflower-blue eyes twinkled. Katia recognized her in an instant. “Mrs. Beabots? Is that you?”
Mrs. Beabots tilted her head to the right, stared at Katia and then her smile grew wider. “Katia Stanislaus,” she said softly so as not to disrupt Austin’s speech. “Why, I’d know you anywhere, my dear. Come give me hug.”
Katia had to bend down to embrace the tiny woman. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Maddie and I were the first ones Austin invited!” Mrs. Beabots grabbed the hand of the pretty green-eyed woman next to her. Katia leaned over and shook Maddie’s outstretched hand. “Katia. Nice to meet you.”
“You, as well,” Maddie whispered back.
Mrs. Beabots nodded. “Maddie made the desserts. You’ll love them.”
“I’m sure I will,” Katia said.
“Maddie’s almost famous. She owns Cupcakes and Cappuccino in Chicago,” Mrs. Beabots said, beaming proudly at Maddie.
Katia’s eyes grew round. She’d been to Cupcakes and Cappuccino with Tina. “I love your café,” she whispered to Maddie. “We should talk afterward.”
Katia turned her attention back to Austin’s speech, thinking how fortuitous it was that she’d made friends with Liz. Now she was reunited with Mrs. Beabots, and she’d come face-to-face with a young Chicago entrepreneur who just might be in need of her insurance services.
Austin continued explaining the museum’s purpose and its benefit to the community. Katia counted over seventy-five people in the room. She kept her face hidden from Austin’s view by ducking behind a tall man in front of her. Fortunately, Austin was so focused on showing off his model and extolling the family history and his grandfather’s creativity that his eyes never settled on one particular face.
Behind Austin were three easels with architectural and designer drawings of the museum interior. He pointed out the features of each of the floors, and when he finished, he asked the crowd for questions.
The journalists peppered him with dozens of particulars about construction, costs and opening dates.
The entire room fell silent when a man who introduced himself as the editor of the Northern Indiana Times cocked his head and asked, “And who is the backer for this expensive museum?”
Austin pursed his lips in a self-satisfied smile, nearly bordering on a smirk. “I am.”
The editor gaped at Austin. “Let me get this straight. You didn’t invite us all here today to petition for donations?”
Austin shoved his hands into his pockets. “No, I didn’t. As I told you, I intend to pay for the building myself. Eventually, the museum will be my gift to the city.”
At the front of the room a young woman asked, “Will you be donating the cars, as well?”
Austin laughed heartily. “I’m afraid I’ll be keeping those...at least until my death, which I hope isn’t for quite some time. But they will be on loan to the city and housed in the museum. I want younger generations, especially, to understand how thrilling it must have been for the inventors of another age to literally change the way human beings live. Only the airplane and the computer have had as great an impact on our everyday lives as the automobile. I’m proud that my grandfather was a pioneer in the automotive industry over a hundred years ago. This is my way of making certain that his contribution is remembered.”
Mrs. Beabots folded her arms over her chest and mumbled something under her breath, though Katia couldn’t make out what she said.
Katia was keenly aware that the crowd was hanging on Austin’s every word. The reporters took copious notes, and people were filming and taking photos of Austin on their phones. Katia wouldn’t be the only one trying to sell Austin insurance. The difference between Katia and other agencies—she hoped—was that she was desperate to save her company, so she would take some risks that others might not. She had already placed inquiries to a dozen companies that she represented to put a package together for Austin that she hoped would make him salivate.
Austin wrapped up his speech and invited everyone to take part in the buffet that had been set out in the dining room. “There’s plenty of local Crenshaw Vineyards wine, as well. And we are graced by Liz Crenshaw herself to introduce you to the splendors of their award-winning product.”
Austin thrust his arm in Liz’s direction to point her out to the guests.
Liz stepped away from the wall and moved forward, stirring the crowd just enough to give Katia a full view of Austin.
Her eyes locked on his, and though he saw her, he didn’t seem to recognize her. Or he did, and he was a superb actor.
Austin’s hands dropped to his sides. Though he kept a smile clamped on his face, he remained rigid.
The crowd dispersed slowly, like the shifting sand after a wave has rushed onto shore.
Mrs. Beabots was the last to leave the room, and then it was just Katia standing across from Austin in the front parlor of the house she grew up in.
“Hello, Austin.”
“Katia.”
She thought her heart would hammer a hole right through her chest, but she didn’t dare let him know how much he affected her. She couldn’t decide whether to smile at him, rush to him and hold his hand or ask his forgiveness on the spot. She felt as if she’d turned to stone. She couldn’t think or move.
She was filled with blistering guilt.
“Austin, I’m so—”
His hands shot up to silence her. “Katia, leave. Now.”
“But, Austin, I want to talk to you...”
He shook his head. “Leave. It’s what you do best.”
He spun on his heel and stormed into the hall. Katia followed him out of the front parlor and stepped into the main hallway in time to see him talking to a woman carrying a tray of marinated shrimp. Katia assumed she was his cook or housekeeper.
“Daisy, there is a woman in the living room,” Austin was saying. “If she’s still there after you put that tray in the dining room, call the cops and have her removed.”
“Sure thing,” Daisy replied.
Katia watched as Austin raced up the majestic staircase and disappeared.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_e97d04c1-03b9-55d7-8912-2ca2a6e0d052)
KATIA WAS STUNNED by Austin’s anger. If she’d ever doubted that he’d loved her once, she didn’t anymore. This degree of hatred could only be balanced by the same degree of love. A long time ago, Austin had believed in her and had finally realized that she loved him.
“But we were only kids...”
Katia’s eyes brimmed with tears as she gazed up the empty staircase, knowing Austin had gone to his room. He’d abandoned his guests because of her. He’d told his housekeeper to have her thrown out.
Katia knew she’d be in trouble if she stayed, but Jack’s directive wasn’t far from her mind. She needed to meet the people in that dining room, needed their expertise and guidance to help her establish Carter and Associates in town. She couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by.
Yet her heart went out to Austin. What could she say to him? An apology, after all this time, seemed meaningless. Austin wasn’t angry because she’d moved. He was angry because she hadn’t come back. And worse, she hadn’t come back for him.
Was that what he was saying now? That he thought she’d come back to rekindle their romance? Nothing could have been further from her thoughts. She wasn’t in love with Austin. She’d put those feelings away a long time ago. She was here to keep her job and build her future. With Jack.
One day, after she made all that happen, she would move back to Chicago and resume her life. Yes, she thought, I’ll go back, and everything will be just as it was.
Just then, the housekeeper came out of the dining room with an empty bowl. She peered up at Katia. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”
Katia made the decision on the spot. “Yes,” she said. “Are you going to call the police like he asked?”
Daisy shook her head and planted a hand on her hip. “If I had a nickel for every time he told me to do something stupid and I didn’t do it—”
“I get it,” Katia said, her eyes wandering up the stairs again. “Is he often like this?”
“Angry? No. Shutting himself away? Always.”
“Really? But why?”
Daisy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re new in town, aren’t ya?”
“Sort of. Well, yes.”
“So you don’t know about him?” Daisy pointed to the second floor.
Katia was tempted to share the whole story, but then thought better of it. “What should I know?”
“He likes being alone. A lot. He’s a recluse, I’d guess you’d say. And I would know. I’ve been here for nearly twenty years. I nursed Mrs. McCreary through her grief. Then cancer. I went to Austin’s college graduation. Hanna and I were the only ones there. I’m just about the only family he’s got left, really.”
Katia smiled and thrust her hand out to Daisy. “Then, I’m grateful to you for taking care of him. I’m—”
“Katia,” Daisy replied, staring at Katia’s hand.
“You recognized me?”
“Not till just a minute ago.”
“So he told you about me?” Katia asked, lowering her hand and wondering if she even wanted to hear the truth.
“His mother did. Broke his heart, she told me. You two musta been somethin’ back then for him to act like this after all these years. Still,” Daisy mused, looking up the stairs, “this is typical Austin behavior. You might as well go in and have somethin’ to eat. He won’t be back down.”
“What? He has guests!”
Daisy shrugged. “Oh, them? They don’t care. They probably didn’t expect him to hang around after his talk anyway. He doesn’t socialize.”
Katia was disbelieving at first, but then she glanced into the dining room and saw everyone chatting and eating as if nothing had happened. Daisy certainly knew more about the Austin of today than she did. “So Austin is incommunicado for the rest of the afternoon?”
“He’ll be on his phone or laptop until they leave,” Daisy told her. “Then he’ll go to the plant till late in the evening, as usual.”
“Well, thank you, Daisy. I think I will have something to eat. It’s a long drive back to Chicago.”
“Oh, so that’s where you’ve been?” Daisy probed.
Katia understood in an instant that Daisy was probably as loyal to Austin as she was to Jack. Daisy would relay any information she revealed. Katia chose her words carefully. “For the moment, yes. My insurance firm is relocating here to Indian Lake. That’s why I do need to introduce myself to some of the guests. I’m looking to rent office space, hire office personnel, find both myself and my boss places to live. Things like that.”
“What about your family?” Daisy asked.
“I’m alone,” Katia replied, intending to sound neutral. Instead, the word came out of her mouth with a great deal more feeling than she’d planned. Again, she had no idea why her emotions kept overwhelming her at such inopportune times. It was as if they had a life of their own, and the steel-edged control she’d always maintained had sprung a leak. “What I meant was I’m not married, and I don’t have to worry about children and schools and all that.”
“I know what you meant,” Daisy said. “Housing is hard to find here in Indian Lake. Good luck with that.” Without another word, Daisy turned and trounced toward the kitchen.
Glancing up the stairs one last time, Katia felt a strange pull to ignore her company’s mission and go straight to Austin’s bedroom and demand to speak with him, but she chickened out.
Katia forced herself to move into the dining room. The buffet table was centered with a huge bouquet of sunflowers, bronze chrysanthemums and yellow roses. The guests were laughing and discussing the impact of the car museum on Indian Lake tourism. The tourism board members were tossing around ideas about ad campaigns, and she heard two of the city council members chatting about potential problems with traffic and parking.
“Katia,” Liz called from the far side of the room. “Come join us.”
Liz was standing with Mrs. Beabots and Maddie next to a dessert table that was laden with dozens of exquisitely iced and decorated cupcakes. Mrs. Beabots sipped a small glass of white wine.
“Those are gorgeous,” Katia gushed as she inspected the desserts.
“Thanks,” Maddie replied. “I wanted them to be a bit over-the-top for Austin.”
Katia’s head jerked up. “Why’s that?”
“If it weren’t for Austin being my first investor, my café here in town would never have existed and I wouldn’t have dreamed of building my business into franchises.”
Katia was surprised. Austin might be a recluse, but he obviously had a head for business. “He did that?”
Maddie smiled broadly. “He’s a strange duck, I’ll give him that. He’s never set foot in my café, can you believe that? I still bring him seven cupcakes every Friday morning at eight. Just like clockwork. Although I mix up the flavors for him so he can try my new recipes.” She rocked back on her heels, seeming both proud and grateful. “He’s been a very good friend to me.”
“I should say so,” Mrs. Beabots added. “I’ve known Austin and his family since I was a young girl.”
“Really?” Katia and Maddie chirped in unison. Katia swallowed back a guilt-edged lump in her throat. She remembered Mrs. Beabots as the kindly older lady down the street whose gardens she always admired. She also recalled Hanna talking about charity committees she served on with Mrs. Beabots. Since Mrs. Beabots had known the family for decades, she would have heard all about Katia and her former relationship with Austin. Mrs. Beabots could be a very good ally for her.
Liz handed Katia a glass of white wine. “Try this chardonnay, Katia. It’s a new reserve for us. Aged eighteen months in French oak barrels. I value your opinion.”
Katia sipped the wine and smiled. “It’s so buttery and smooth. I love it.”
“I thought you would.” Liz beamed and then noticed Maddie and Mrs. Beabots staring at her. “What?”
Mrs. Beabots patted Liz’s arm. “Katia was just about to tell us why she’s come back to Indian Lake. Weren’t you, dear?”
Katia nearly choked on the wine. Maybe Mrs. Beabots wouldn’t be the best ally after all. She cleared her throat. “I-I’m relocating my company to Indian Lake as soon as I can find an appropriate office.”
“That is so cool!” Liz interjected happily.
“How large of a space?” Maddie asked perfunctorily. “Do you plan for many employees? Will they be moving here with you?”
Mrs. Beabots placed her hand on Maddie’s cheek and looked at Katia. “She gets excited. Now, Katia, there’s a lovely upstairs loft across from the courthouse that had a rental sign in the window. I saw it just last week. Let’s see...” She glanced around the room. “Yes. There’s Sharon Goodman. I’ll introduce you. The space would be perfect for you. It’s got a beautiful view and two walls of glass. You’ll like that.”
Maddie shot a curious look at Mrs. Beabots. “How do you know what she’d like?”
“Why, it’s obvious. She’s been working in Chicago with all those lights and city amenities. She and her boss will never stand being on the outskirts of town for a minute. They’d go stir-crazy. That intersection is the busiest in the county. It’s only a block to the deli. A block and half to Enzo’s. The bank is on the corner and—” she stared pointedly at Katia “—it’s only six blocks to my house.”
“Your house?” Katia asked.
“That’s a great idea!” Maddie exclaimed. “Mrs. Beabots has an entire third floor that was renovated into a very nice apartment a year ago. It used to be a ballroom. Luke Bosworth and his two children lived there before he married Sarah Jensen next door.”
“Sarah Jensen? Do I know her?” Katia asked Mrs. Beabots.
“She’s a bit younger than you, but you might remember her mother, Ann Marie Jensen. She died a couple years ago. Cancer. You might recall that Ann Marie planted the flowers along Maple Avenue. Sarah lives in the family house now with Luke, Annie and Timmy.”
A hundred memories of being a little girl flashed through Katia’s mind. Walking along this street to go to school, to church or into town with her mother to shop. Happy memories. Loving memories. Suddenly, Katia’s life in Chicago dissipated like fog lifting off a hill as it rose out of a valley. She did remember Ann Marie kneeling on the November cool earth of the boulevard, planting tulip and iris bulbs. Mrs. Jensen had taught her how to plant a bulb. She’d shown Katia how to place the bulb in the earth with the flat side down and the tiny shoots pointing upward. It hadn’t been the kind of information that would change anyone’s life, but the kindness, tenderness and concern she’d shown Katia, who had been all too aware that she was only a housekeeper’s daughter, had stuck with her.
“I would like to meet Sarah,” Katia told Mrs. Beabots. “We have a lot in common, both having lost our mothers.”
“Consider it done,” Mrs. Beabots assured her. “And I insist you move in with me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“It sounds lovely...” Katia hesitated.
Maddie nudged Katia with her elbow. “Trust me, there are no high-rises here. No doormen. There aren’t any complexes at all, if you remember. That much about Indian Lake hasn’t changed. The best apartments are in the houses along Maple Avenue. Mrs. Beabots’s is the prettiest and the biggest of all.”
Katia’s eyes widened. “How big?”
“Very,” Mrs. Beabots cut in. “Two bedrooms, large bath, living room and kitchenette. When Luke lived there, I usually cooked for him and the children. Then there are formal gardens in back for reading and contemplating. Lester MacDougal does all the yard work now. Except for the spring planting. I do most of that myself,” she said proudly. “I’d be happy to show it to you this afternoon.”
“I would love to see it.”
Mrs. Beabots clinked her glass against Katia’s. “You will find, my dear, that securing office rental in Indian Lake is child’s play. Residential housing is nearly impossible. You can walk six blocks, can’t you, dear?” Mrs. Beabots asked.
Katia grinned widely. She wasn’t sure if her mother was watching over her and putting all these puzzle pieces of her life together, but there was no question that today was fortuitous. This was so far beyond lucky that it frightened her.
Katia raised her glass and saluted Mrs. Beabots. In one fell swoop, she’d gotten a lead on an office space, a potential place to live and, she hoped, a wily but knowledgeable ally in her pursuit of Austin’s business. “Oh, I can walk it back and forth all day long,” Katia assured her.
“Well, then. Let me introduce you to our mayor, Blair Milo. She’s a few years younger than you are, dear, but she’s a real dynamo. She will show you the ropes around Indian Lake in a jiffy—the new ones, that is. You should join her on her Fitness Friday jogs.”
“The mayor runs?”
“She does it all over the state,” Maddie said, biting into a shrimp.
“I think I’m going to like Indian Lake,” Katia said.
“I certainly hope so.” Mrs. Beabots’s gaze drifted toward the empty hallway.
Katia knew Mrs. Beabots was thinking about Austin. She couldn’t help wondering just how much Mrs. Beabots knew about their teenage romance. Had Austin ever talked about her after she’d left Indian Lake, or had he kept his feelings to himself?
Apparently, everyone in town knew that Austin was a loner, and they accepted him for it. But he hadn’t been like that when she’d known him. Of course, they were just kids then, and their personalities hadn’t molded into who they were today.
As much as Mrs. Beabots, Liz and Maddie were enthusiastic about Katia’s move and welcoming her to the community, something unsettling continued to plague her.
That something, she knew, was sitting upstairs in the bedroom at the end of the hall.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_359e974f-0e5a-5da8-854e-d733eb3742fe)
AUSTIN FINISHED UP his call to Joe Collier in Phoenix. They had met at York Prep School and had been friends ever since. Joe was a venture capitalist and was constantly on the lookout for new start-ups. For the past fifteen years, Austin had spent the Christmas holidays with Joe and his wife, Vicki. Each time Austin visited, Joe would have a new company he’d be interested in, and he’d try to snare Austin into investing with him or flat-out buying it. Austin always declined the opportunity. It would take a gale-force wind to pry him out of Indian Lake.
Today, a storm had blown into his life, and its name was Katia.
Austin picked up his iPad and stared blankly at his apps, but all he saw was Katia’s beautiful face gazing back at him. He’d always thought she was pretty; even when they were kids and then teenagers, she was his dream girl. But the sight of the woman she’d grown into was a shock on about a dozen levels. He couldn’t remember what he’d said to her, or how he’d even managed to speak. All he’d felt was an overpowering rage that had threatened to burst out of him. If he’d remained downstairs and confronted her, there was no telling how far that rage would have taken him. He would never be physical, but he feared worse. He was afraid of what he would say to her.
Betrayal like hers was something no man could ever truly conquer. Wars were fought over women who’d wronged men. Austin had loved Katia with all his heart, and she’d left him.
Night after night, in the seventeen years and eight months since she’d left, he’d tried to make sense of it all and had come up dry. He’d never gotten past it. As far as he was concerned, she’d never given him a reason. She and her mother had simply moved away, without notice, on the very day that Katia was supposed to fly to New York for his senior prom.
He would never forget standing at LaGuardia, waiting excitedly with a bouquet of flowers. But Katia hadn’t walked off the plane. He’d waited for over half an hour. He’d gone to the ticket counter and asked if they were sure all the passengers had disembarked. The woman had assured him that the plane was not only cleared and cleaned, but ready for a new boarding. After that, he’d raced to a pay phone to call his mother.
Hanna had told him that Stephania had quit her job that morning. Apparently mother and daughter had been planning their departure, since their bags were already packed. They had walked out of the house and out of the McCrearys’ lives forever. His mother had railed on and on about their disloyalty, lamenting that she could never trust anyone on her payroll. Hanna had been clearly upset as she’d told him it was obvious that, to Stephania and Katia, the McCrearys had never been more than a paycheck.
Hanna had explained to Austin that he was lucky to find out what kind of person Katia was while he was still young, and not later, when he was “in too deep.” After all, he and Katia were just teenagers. Technically, they weren’t even dating. He’d asked Katia to his prom, that was all. “Yes, Mom,” he’d said, looking down at the wilting daisies. “It’s just a prom.”
Hanna had told him there would be many other girls in his future and when the right one came along, he would know it.
Austin had thrown Katia’s flowers in a nearby trash bin and walked out of LaGuardia determined never to give Katia Stanislaus another thought. He would wipe her out of his mind as easily as she’d erased him.
But Austin didn’t forget. What he remembered most was her uncanny ability to sense his moods. Wherever she was in the house or gardens, if he was upset or lonely, she always found him and knew exactly what to say to uplift him. She always put him first. Because he was obsessed with tennis, she urged him to teach her. She’d come close to beating him once too often.
It had always seemed to him that no matter what hobby, sport or academic interest he’d taken up and tried to excel in, Katia had been better. She’d gobbled up life as if she was at a banquet. She had twice the drive to succeed as he did, and she’d told him that she never wanted to settle for an ordinary life. Like her mother, she wanted the best of everything, but Stephania had never had the education to reach her goals. Katia believed that learning something new every day was the key to success.
When Katia had first moved into the mansion, he’d tried to wish her away, but his parents had needed Stephania. Because everyone else had been so busy with their lives and work, Austin had often got stuck with Katia, who’d followed him around like a shadow. She’d been an embarrassment to him for years. Then she’d become his friend. Then he’d wanted more than just friendship. When he’d been about to graduate from York and start his college life, he’d realized that he was in love with her. Austin had actually thought he would ask her to marry him, though they would have had to wait four years until he got his business degree. But that hadn’t mattered.
He’d gone to LaGuardia that day hoping that Katia was the kind of girl who would wait.
As he’d driven back to the school that evening, he’d had to hold his hand over his stomach. He’d felt gutted. And it had been Katia, the one person in the world he’d trusted, who’d struck the blow.
Now she was here in his home, rubbing shoulders with the council members. He didn’t know how she’d sneaked in without him noticing. Being the snake she was, she had probably learned how to slither, undetected, in and out of places, situations...and hearts.
It hadn’t been until his presentation was over that he had seen her. He’d recognized her instantly, of course, but he could barely believe she was here, in his house.
“Why are you here, Katia?” Austin growled at his bedroom walls. He snapped off his iPad and went to the window to stare out onto Maple Avenue.
His guests were leaving. One by one, all the cars and SUVs pulled away from the curb and drove off. He had no idea what they thought about the museum because he had not joined them for the buffet or spent time asking questions.
The bottom line was that Austin was certain that even if there was a dissenting voice, he would turn them around in time.
Focusing on the museum helped clear his mind a little. Over the past four years, he’d worked with the city and county planning commissions to obtain permits and allowances for the museum. Thanks to their guidance, he’d learned very quickly he could not build within the city limits. There would be too many problems with the parking and the placement of the entrance and exits.
Austin had been looking for years for a few acres to buy for his intended museum. He’d come across the ten acres of old cornfield by sheer luck while reading the announcements of sheriff’s sales in the newspaper. As it turned out, he was the only bidder on the property. It was too small to attract interest from local farmers or even the corporate farms that were buying up a great deal of the Midwest. This little patch of land had screamed out to Austin that it was meant to belong to him. It was exactly the size he needed, and the location was perfect. Austin hadn’t been able to write out the check fast enough.
Austin heard the front door close, then he heard Daisy’s voice shout up the stairs. “They’re gone now.”
Austin peered down at the sidewalk and saw Katia walking with Mrs. Beabots, Liz Crenshaw and Maddie Strong. He couldn’t be sure, but if he wasn’t mistaken, he also saw Cate Sullivan, the best Realtor in Indian Lake County, shake Katia’s hand before walking off.
Real estate? Why would Katia be talking to a Realtor?
Austin watched as the other women hugged each other, waved and went their separate ways. Katia stood with Mrs. Beabots for a moment, waving to Liz, who drove away in her old truck, and then the two women continued along Maple Avenue.
Where are you going, Katia?
He opened the window and stuck his head out so he could get a better view through the autumn trees. Katia was having a lively conversation with Mrs. Beabots, as if they were long-lost friends. What the...
Austin spun away from the window and raced out of his room and down the enormous staircase, past a gaping Daisy who was carrying a stack of dirty dishes to the kitchen. He whisked open the front door and rushed to the sidewalk.
They were easily six blocks away, but if Austin’s eyes were not deceiving him, Katia and Mrs. Beabots had just crossed Maple Avenue and were headed to Mrs. Beabots’s house. Scratching his head, he slowly pivoted and started back toward his home.
“She’s thinkin’ of movin’ in with the old lady,” Daisy said from the doorway. “Of course, if you’d had just an ounce of curiosity and chutzpah, you would have walked right up to her and asked.”
Austin glared at Daisy. There were times when Daisy’s bossiness was cute and almost welcome. But at this moment, as he struggled with painful memories, Daisy’s practical, take-charge pep talk was annoying. “So you recognized her?”
She shook her head. “I never saw her before today. But I know about her. You and your mom told me. After that reaction of yours, I figured it out for myself.” She put her hand on her hip. “As if I would call the cops. That’s your answer for everything. The trash man is late. There’s a Jehovah’s Witness at the door. The pool man didn’t show up. ‘Daisy, call the cops!’ If I had a nickel...”
He stuck his hands into his pants’ pockets. “I’m pretty predictable, aren’t I?”
“Down to the minute. I like that about you.” She smiled fondly.
“I just wish I knew what she was doing here. How did she get in? Did you see her come in?”
Daisy shrugged. “I didn’t see half of them. Once I opened the door, it seemed to be a steady stream of folks. I don’t know very many of them, except the mayor—I voted for her. Miss Crenshaw and Maddie. Katia seems to know them pretty well.”
“Really? They’re much younger than Katia. I doubt she would have known them from school. Do you think Katia has been friends with them long?”
“I couldn’t tell you, but they seemed awfully close, chatting during lunch and all.” She studied Austin. “Aren’t you curious where Katia’s been since she left?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “You bet I am. And that is the first question I’m going to ask her. Among a thousand—”
“Chicago.”
“What?”
“She’s been living in Chicago. At least until now. She’ll be living here in Indian Lake soon, so you can ask her all the questions you want.”
Austin was aghast. How was it possible that his housekeeper, who had never met Katia before today, already knew more about her than he did? Austin chided himself. Daisy was right. If he’d had the pluck to face Katia down, he would have found out all these things and possibly more. But he’d retreated; at least, that was what it would look like to Katia and the rest of the townspeople.
There goes Austin McCreary, slipping into his shell again.
For years, Austin had used his reputation as a recluse to serve his own purposes. Austin didn’t like people poking into his business or his personal life and asking a lot of questions he didn’t want to answer.
The underlying problem was that Austin himself didn’t have the one answer he needed. Had Katia ever loved him, and if she had, why would she have left?
Austin felt that his adult life had begun that day at LaGuardia. He’d been abandoned, and he’d felt adrift all this time. She’d left a dull ache in his heart that had never completely gone away. It was his pain that told him he’d found true love with Katia. She hadn’t been just a high school romance. What they’d had was real and he knew he’d never find it with anyone else.
He didn’t know how to respond to the simplest questions, the kind people ask at parties and gatherings, because they always brought back memories of Katia and the plans they’d made for a future together. “Are you married? Do you have children? How’s your business?”
Though he replied with platitudes, the true answers were troubling, even to him. “I’m not married. She left me. I don’t want children except with Katia, but I can’t forgive her for leaving me. I hate my business. Running my father’s company is boring and unfulfilling.”
In truth, Austin felt as if he was sleepwalking through his life. Being numb to his heartbreak was his only coping skill.
But today, Katia had come back. He had to give her credit. She didn’t slink around town, find a place to live, get a job or whatever it was she was here for and then let him find out she was in town. She’d rushed right in.
She’d come to his house and crashed his party. If he hadn’t gotten angry, he might have been able to question her and learn everything he wanted to know. Katia had grit, all right. She had enough for the two of them.
“So are you going to follow her and see where she went?” Daisy asked.
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“You could just cruise by Mrs. Beabots’s a bit slower than you usually do on your way to the plant,” Daisy suggested.
“The plant!” Austin checked his watch. “I’m due there in twenty minutes.”
“I know.” Daisy reached behind her and grabbed his car keys and his briefcase from the entry table. “I assume you’re taking the ’89 Corvette?”
“Why would you think that?” he asked.
“Because it’s the one you moved out of the carriage house and put in the driveway this morning,” Daisy replied in the assuaging tone she used to remind him that she was a better conscience than the one in his head.
“Oh, right.” He took the keys and briefcase. “I’ll be home at six as usual.”
“Dinner will be ready,” Daisy replied with a smile. “Steak and butternut squash.”
“Great.”
He went over to his black convertible, wondering if he should put the top up. If he saw Katia as he passed Mrs. Beabots’s house, would he want her to see him? Should he wave to her as if nothing had happened? Should he stop and talk to her? Maybe he should apologize about the calling-the-police thing. Was she deeply offended by that, or did she even care? He turned on the ignition and backed out of the drive. Daisy stepped back into the house and shut the front door.
Austin’s head was filled with so many questions he thought it would burst.
The heck with it. Probably best to let sleeping dogs...totally alone.
Austin drove down the block, turned left on Iris Avenue and decided to take another route to the plant.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_ab6a850f-c895-5b40-8b6b-10cc2e02d8a2)
PELTING RAIN NEARLY drowned out the sound of Jack’s voice. Katia sat across from him in his office, holding her cell phone on the off chance that Austin would return one of the half dozen calls she’d placed to him in the past twenty-one hours. The only number she had was his landline, which had been printed on a brochure she’d picked up at the museum presentation. Austin didn’t have voice mail, but Daisy always answered calls after the fifth ring, giving Austin time to pick up first. Katia had phoned him as she’d driven out of town the night before.
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Catherine Lanigan
The past is a risky place to visit As a top insurance agent in Chicago, Katia Stanislaus isn't just used to pressure; she thrives on it. When she finds out her firm's future is at stake, she's the first to dream up a solution: relocate to Indian Lake and land the town's reclusive millionaire as a client. Austin McCreary might be the sweetheart she left brokenhearted when they were teens, but she can't let her feelings–or his–get in the way of her career. If she can just convince him to listen to her explanation, and her pitch, he'll see this is the deal of a lifetime. But that would involve talking, and he won't even take her calls! How ridiculous. Because this is strictly business…isn't it?
The past is a risky place to visit
As a top insurance agent in Chicago, Katia Stanislaus isn’t just used to pressure; she thrives on it. When she finds out her firm’s future is at stake, she’s the first to dream up a solution: relocate to Indian Lake and land the town’s reclusive millionaire as a client. Austin McCreary might be the sweetheart she left brokenhearted when they were teens, but she can’t let her feelings—or his—get in the way of her career. If she can just convince him to listen to her explanation, and her pitch, he’ll see this is the deal of a lifetime. But that would involve talking, and he won’t even take her calls! How ridiculous. Because this is strictly business...isn’t it?
The crowd dispersed slowly, like the shifting sand following a wave.
Mrs. Beabots was the last to leave the room, and then it was just Katia standing across from Austin in the front parlor of the house she grew up in.
“Hello, Austin.”
“Katia.”
She thought her heart would hammer a hole right through her chest, but she didn’t dare let him know how much he affected her. She couldn’t decide whether to rush to him and ask his forgiveness on the spot. She felt like she’d turned to stone. She couldn’t think or move.
She was filled with blistering guilt.
“Austin, I’m so—”
His hands shot up to silence her. “Katia, leave. Now.”
“But, Austin, I want to talk to you.”
He shook his head. “Leave. It’s what you do best.”
Dear Reader (#ulink_16467713-5a81-526c-9b3f-5a0acfed9acb),
For those of you who are just discovering the Shores of Indian Lake, Katia’s Promise is the fourth book in the series. Although Katia’s story was the fourth one to be written, it was the vision of beautiful, guilt-ridden Katia returning to Indian Lake after nearly twenty years of living in Chicago that sparked the entire series. I had a vision of Katia standing under a streetlight across from an elegant home, daring herself to go in and confront the man she’d left brokenhearted when she was sixteen. I wanted a heroine who knew she’d “done wrong by him.”
Austin McCreary has never forgiven Katia. When she seems to blow into Indian Lake like a gale-force wind and crashes a presentation he’s giving in his home, he’s not happy to see her.
I hope you enjoy Katia’s story as much as I did when I finally put her stormy romance with Austin on paper.
I would love to hear if there’s a character you’ve seen mentioned in Indian Lake whose story you’d like to read. You can contact me at cathlanigan1@gmail.com or my website at catherinelanigan.com (http://www.catherinelanigan.com). You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and LinkedIn.
Catherine Lanigan
Katia’s Promise
Catherine Lanigan
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CATHERINE LANIGAN knew she was born to storytelling at a very young age when she told stories to her younger brothers and sister to entertain them. After years of encouragement from family and high school teachers, Catherine was shocked and brokenhearted when her freshman college creative-writing professor told her that she had “no writing talent whatsoever” and that she would never earn a dime as a writer. He promised her that he would get her through his demanding class with a B grade so as not to destroy her high grade point average, if Catherine would promise never to write again.
For fourteen years she did not write until she was encouraged by a television journalist to give her dream a shot. She wrote a 600-page historical romantic spy-thriller set against World War I. The journalist sent the manuscript to his agent who then garnered bids from two publishers. That was nearly forty published novels, nonfiction books and anthologies ago.
This book is dedicated to my husband, Jed Nolan, with all my love forever.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_c27a92d1-ac7a-5c75-9358-50119489d9c1)
I don’t know how many times my editors have had to pull their hair out over my manuscripts until, together, we finally create a jewel, but I’m hoping no one runs to a wig store on my account. Each time I sit down to the computer I say a prayer of thanksgiving for everyone at Heartwarming.
To my editor, Claire Caldwell, believe me, there aren’t enough words in this clunky English language to express my sincere gratitude for your brilliant guidance and creativity.
Many thanks to Victoria Curran for expecting superior storytelling out of me and all the authors. I also appreciate all you do out there in the real world to promote the line and the authors, and the push to get our books into more retail venues.
To all the Heartwarming staff, you are extraordinarily talented individuals, and it shows. From our unique and compelling covers to the cover copy to the daunting hours of promotion on social media it takes to make our presence known, thank you.
To Dianne Moggy—as always, I send you my sincere gratitude and affection.
Contents
Cover (#u19111fce-9e23-520b-909b-db974a78cff7)
Back Cover Text (#uf2570877-0a91-5d61-a621-abcd71cf9aa1)
Introduction (#ucdb7ccf2-7d63-5798-bb64-130751b5885f)
Dear Reader (#ulink_432696b3-ece7-5605-b2cb-4541b90da731)
Title Page (#uab6ab8d9-b503-59f0-abda-30597a5a6742)
About the Author (#uaf917ee6-3f80-5cee-845a-aaa46ac3bbbd)
Dedication (#u0e2ae8c0-0877-554b-90a9-40d11c67fe6e)
Acknowledgments (#ulink_cea6e392-83d4-518e-945f-4759f8fc6b7b)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_f3af3706-71cf-50f7-850d-b579184a53c6)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_6e1f16c9-6a0a-5b64-bd93-0dc68200433d)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_1764e97d-f118-5e7c-8f16-730459abac34)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_071968f9-9641-5847-a0b5-4a9459a4b58c)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_57c1b027-2d9a-5f93-b633-6e5efb8b9f4a)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_45ca0172-aa02-55fc-9c61-7cfff0236cde)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_aff884cc-b9e8-5a80-8ce8-3d35eb743173)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_9fa952e4-a578-596e-aa99-bf1eae8301e7)
GOLDEN AND BRONZE autumn sunset beams shot through the wooden slats on Katia’s high-rise apartment windows. She padded across the beige carpet in bare feet, rushing from the bathroom to the bedroom. She was late for her own party.
She’d spiraled a navy towel around her hair, then spritzed herself with jasmine-and-almond-scented body spray. Now, standing in front of her closet, she pulled out the black silk and lace sheath dress she’d recently bought at her favorite resale shop on the far North Side. The dress had obviously never been worn. Like most of the dresses at Sonja’s Secrets, this one had probably belonged to an affluent woman from Wilmette or Kenilworth who shopped out of boredom and not need. Katia hadn’t had time to be bored since she was very young. Ten years ago, she was too busy building her résumé and her reputation in the insurance business to shop, go to the movies or do anything other than work. Then she’d turned thirty, landed a job at Carter and Associates with Jack Carter, and in her four years there, she’d become a manager. She’d won confidence and approval.
She was on top of the world.
Katia zipped up the dress and turned to check herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. She smiled. The dress fit like a dream and showed off her slender figure, and the well-placed darts accentuated her waist. Katia only had two rules when it came to diet and exercise: no French fries, and she walked the twenty-one blocks to and from work every day. Life already had enough rules to follow, she thought.
Katia unfurled the towel and shook out her messy mane of coppery hair. She quickly applied black eyeliner to make the dark green of her eyes pop. She swooped on blusher and then uncapped a brand-new flame-red lipstick. The salesgirl at Macy’s had claimed it was such a powerful red, it would change her life.
Just then, Katia smelled something burning in the kitchen. The turnovers!
Tossing the lipstick onto her dresser, Katia raced, still barefoot, into the kitchen. The timer was chirping, and there was a thin stream of brown smoke coming from the oven. Using an orange pumpkin-shaped pot holder, she opened the oven and pulled out the cookie sheet of feta cheese, spinach and bacon phyllo dough appetizers.
Katia looked over the tray of golden crisp finger foods. Only one victim. I’m saved, she thought.
As she turned off the oven, the intercom rang. It was Joey, the doorman. “Miss Stanislaus. Your guests are arriving. In droves, I might add. Should I send them up?”
“Yes, Joey. Thanks.”
Katia hung up and quickly moved the hot appetizers onto a tiered serving stand. She took the stand into the dining nook, placed it strategically on the table and surveyed her work.
Katia’s apartment was small, but it had a large enough dining and living area that she could comfortably host small parties, like the engagement party she was throwing tonight for her coworker Tina and her fiancé, Allen. The kitchen was minuscule, but since Katia didn’t cook—except for when she had company—she didn’t mind. The bathroom was more of an alcove than a room, and the only saving grace in her bedroom was the walk-in closet, which housed the bounty of her bargain-hunting addiction.
The building had been constructed in the late 1950s and wasn’t very aesthetically pleasing. What it had going for it was great access to her work, security and a massive window that looked out over Chicago. Many was the night that Katia lived to see the lights glittering beneath her, as if she was walking on stars.
Katia smoothed the white cotton tablecloth she’d bought at an outlet store—yet another great bargain—and straightened the fruit platter of grapes, pears, melon wrapped in prosciutto, pineapple chunks speared with maraschino cherries, apples for dipping in caramel sauce and twin mounds of strawberries with chocolate fudge. She’d displayed an array of specialty cheeses on a slab of rough-edged marble she’d found at a granite and marble boneyard. She had four kinds of crackers and three bread selections.
She crossed to the antique marble-topped buffet on the wall next to the boring, mantel-less fireplace. This was the most important element of all—the bar.
Recently, Katia had discovered Crenshaw Vineyards while passing through her hometown, Indian Lake, on a business trip. She’d gone back four times, and now her wine rack and portable wine cooler were stocked with some of the best wines Katia had ever tasted. Katia had bought discount wineglasses and garage sale decanters, and she’d trawled eBay for the best deals on bar paraphernalia. But she never scrimped on the food and wine that she served to her guests.
Katia loved giving parties, and though she couldn’t afford florists, live music, caterers or even a bartender, she enjoyed making holidays and special events even more exceptional for her friends and coworkers. She wanted them to have happy memories.
“I want them to remember me,” Katia murmured as the doorbell rang.
Putting her hand on the doorknob, Katia scanned the room one more time. She couldn’t remember if she’d dusted the glass shelf in the bathroom or if she’d lit the scented candle in the kitchen.
There was a knock.
It was too late now for a last-minute check. Katia felt her heart pound ever so slightly, as it always did before an important meeting or a special event, then she whisked open the door.
“Hi, guys!” She beamed at Tina Goodman, her assistant at Carter and Associates, and Allen Hampton, the football coach for St. Michael’s High School. “If it isn’t the bride and groom!” The second the words were out of her mouth, Katia realized she still wasn’t wearing any shoes. She’d been so immersed in the food and decor, she’d forgotten to finish dressing. It wasn’t like her to be so scatterbrained, but she’d been noticing herself slipping up more often lately.
Allen—lean, blond and California handsome—kissed Katia’s cheek. “You look gorgeous, as always,” he said, winking at Tina and pulling her close with a possessive arm.
Katia smiled demurely. “But not as beautiful as the bride.” She squeezed Tina’s hand.
“Very diplomatic, both of you,” Tina teased. She gave Katia a quizzical look. “You’re shorter.”
“Uh! Didn’t have a chance to grab my shoes. Come in before the others get up here. I have to finish dressing.”
“We’re not early, are we?” Allen asked as Katia ushered them inside.
“No, no. It’s just me. I got behind somehow.”
Tina shook her head. “That’s hard for me to imagine.” She turned to Allen. “We call her Miss Excel at work. Because she’s so organized, we figure even her leg waxings are plugged into a spreadsheet.”
“I’m not that bad,” Katia replied defensively, showing them into the living room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I have to get my shoes.”
Allen grinned playfully and winked again at Tina. “Maybe some earrings, too, while you’re in there?”
Tina elbowed him and giggled.
Katia rushed to the bedroom, stuck her feet into a new pair of black Stuart Weitzman pumps and put on a pair of dangling emerald earrings and a bracelet to match. The ringing doorbell kept her from double-checking her reflection in the mirror.
On her way through the living room, she saw that Tina and Allen had found the wine bar and Allen was opening a bottle of Crenshaw Cabernet. “Thanks, guys. Oh, and open some pinot grigio while you’re at it, please?”
Katia answered the door. Filling the entrance were four couples and a single man, who stood inches taller than everyone else. His charisma dwarfed the group even more. Jack Carter.
“Welcome!” Katia beamed amid hugs and well wishes as her friends moved into the apartment. Jack was last. He bent and placed his hand on her shoulder and started to kiss her cheek, then abruptly pulled back. He smiled awkwardly, as if suddenly remembering she was his employee. He was the boss. “Thanks for inviting me, Katia.”
Jack had ironclad rules when it came to office romances. He forbade his employees from dating each other, and under no circumstances could anyone at Carter and Associates date a current or prospective client. Katia thought the rule was wise and necessary, considering the nature of their business. After all these years, however, Katia realized that the long hours and weekends she put in kept her single with a capital S.
Katia had very little time for dating, and even when she was at parties or functions, she was always scanning the crowds for new clients.
Katia was perpetually working the room. The company benefited from her dedication, but as she watched her friends gather in her living room, it struck her that all of her friends had paired up in the past few years. Tina was the only one who hadn’t gotten married yet, and this was her engagement party.
Only Katia and Jack were left.
She smiled at Jack and lifted her arm to usher him inside. “It wouldn’t be an office party without you,” she told him.
She glanced down the hall and looked back at Jack curiously. “Barry and Ava aren’t with you?”
Barry was Jack’s partner and brother-in-law. Jack’s sister, Ava, loved parties and never missed one of Katia’s gatherings. Ava had once told Katia that she secretly hoped Jack and Katia would pair up someday. As if that would ever happen.
Jack slapped his forehead. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. The baby got sick at the last minute. Fever, and Ava didn’t dare ask our mother to babysit.” He rolled his eyes. “She has tickets to the ballet tonight.” He wagged his finger. “Never mess with my mother’s ballet plans. Anyway, Barry didn’t feel quite right coming without Ava. He said he’d see you at the office on Monday.”
“Sure,” Katia replied dully, truly disappointed that she would miss seeing Ava. Ava was always so much fun, and before the baby had arrived six months ago, she was always up for resale shopping with Katia. Since little Kaylee had arrived, Ava had nearly dropped out of Katia’s life. She still called and texted, but it just wasn’t the same.
It wasn’t only Ava’s baby that had shaken up Katia’s life. Katia had felt subtle changes at work, too: a lost client she’d believed was a slam dunk, a corporate takeover that had caused them to lose a large account, Barry spending countless hours building a new website, new furrows across Jack’s brow.
“Katia!” Allen shouted. “Did you make these?” He held up one of her little turnovers. “With the wine—superb!”
“Thanks,” she replied, feeling uplifted by the compliment. She crossed to the bar and stood next to Jack, who had just poured a glass of red wine.
Katia took a glass for herself, a burgundy balloon she’d found at a closeout at Macy’s, and filled it slowly.
Jack took a sip and his eyes grew wide. “This is incredible. What is it?” He read the label on the bottle. “Crenshaw. Never heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t have. It’s a secret discovery of mine.”
“I want some,” he said in that firm, authoritative voice he used when issuing commands at work. “Can you get me a case?”
“Sure. I’ve made friends with the owner. Actually, Liz and I have started emailing back and forth. I’ll get on it right away.”
Jack flashed his mind-blowing, bone-melting smile at Katia, and she wondered if she’d ever learn how not to respond to it.
“Katia, you’re the best.”
“Thanks,” she replied feeling just the teensiest bit light-headed. She put down her glass. “I should see to dinner. Would you excuse me?”
“Can I help?” he offered with yet another earth-shattering smile. “I admit I’m not much good around food, other than the consumption of it, but I can lift heavy objects. Turkeys. Prime-rib roast.” He chuckled easily.
God, it would be so easy to fall for Jack.
“Thanks, but we’re having shrimp creole. I think I can manage.” Teetering in her high heels, Katia made it to the kitchen, where she grabbed onto the edge of the sink for stability.
Her heart was hammering, and she’d broken out in a cold sweat.
What was the matter with her? She’d worked with handsome Jack Carter for years. Day in, day out. Evenings. Weekends. She’d never reacted like this before.
Katia looked down at her hands as she let go of the sink. Shaking? I’m shaking?
Suddenly, she couldn’t catch her breath. She felt clammy and nauseous.
Tina walked into the kitchen, took one look at Katia and said, “Do you have any paper bags?”
Katia shook her head. “No, why?”
“You’re hyperventilating.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been there. You have to breathe your own air. I need a little brown bag.”
“Bloomingdales?” Katia forced a smile. “Corner cabinet. Next to the cookie sheets.”
Tina shot to the cabinet, withdrew a small paper shopping bag and then clamped it over Katia’s mouth. “Now breathe. Slowly. In and out. That’s a girl.”
Katia didn’t know what was happening, but the bilious taste in her throat had subsided, her stomach no longer rumbled and her head cleared. The ground under her feet was solid again. Tina had miraculously infused marrow back into her bones.
Katia took the bag away from her face. “Thank you, Tina. I don’t know what that was. I thought I was going to die. Or at least pass out. That’s never happened to me before.”
Tina pursed her lips. “You had a panic attack. I get them sometimes.”
Katia inhaled deeply and smoothed her hair. “Humph.” She pretended confidence she didn’t feel. “It’s never happened to me.”
Tina smirked as she glanced back into the living room and spied Jack talking to Allen. Her eyes tracked back to Katia. “Well, it has now.”
Despite her inexplicable anxiety attack, Katia’s party was a rousing success. The rice was fluffy, the shrimp tender and not overcooked and her homemade French bread and herb butter was gone before she could dish up seconds for Jack and Allen. While the candles flickered merrily and she served dessert with Tina’s help, everyone engaged in lively and thought-provoking conversations about the new play at the Oriental as well as city politics.
All in all, it was the kind of evening Katia had hoped it would be. It reminded her of a time, long ago, when she’d watched intelligent and interesting people gather around a glittering dinner table at Hanna McCreary’s mansion. Katia never forgot those conversations, nor the fact that the guests had never wanted to leave Hanna’s house before midnight. Even as a little girl, Katia had absorbed every nuance of Hanna’s talent for party giving. Tonight, her studies had paid off.
It was odd, Katia mused, as she dipped her spoon into the chocolate mousse, that Hanna should pop into her mind like that. She hadn’t thought of Hanna in a long time, though she had been Katia’s mentor in many ways.
Was it possible that these old memories had something to do with her earlier panic attack?
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_ede36ef7-0d45-57d7-b5b9-602e27fb8c7d)
WITH HER HEAD propped against three down pillows, Katia sat in bed and turned on her iPad. Her guests were gone and the kitchen was clean. With the sound of the dishwasher running in the background, Katia checked her emails. She clicked through the usual sale announcements from her favorite stores and a reminder about her dentist appointment later that week, then read a note from Ava apologizing for missing the party. Katia quickly answered Ava and promised to bring some of her chocolate mousse to the office for Barry to bring home. At least they’d get a taste of the party.
Because Katia had promised Jack that she would order a case of Crenshaw cabernet for him, she banged out a quick email to Liz Crenshaw. She’d been getting closer with Liz since her last trip through Indian Lake. Katia admired her drive and ambition, and she was impressed by Liz’s plans to expand her vineyard. Katia was also a very good customer, which had helped spark their friendship. She’d promised Liz she would recommend Crenshaw wines to all her friends. Since the wines were excellent and a good price, Katia didn’t have much trouble finding enthusiastic new customers for Liz.
Before typing out her order, Katia asked about Liz’s grandfather’s health. Sam had undergone open heart surgery just over a month ago, and she knew Liz had been spending a lot of time caring for him. Then she asked about the case of wine and requested that Liz set aside a half dozen bottles so she could restock her bar after tonight’s party.
Katia glanced at her digital alarm clock and was surprised it was not even ten o’clock. She was exhausted, and Jack had told her to “get some rest.” He’d mentioned something about being sharp for their Monday meeting.
Katia didn’t have the slightest idea what he’d meant by that, but he had seemed a bit preoccupied during dinner. The more she thought about it, the more she felt dread creeping up on her like a snake.
If there was something amiss with the company, Katia hoped Jack and Barry had enough confidence in her skills and professionalism to trust her with that information. She’d taken it as a good sign that Jack had attended the party for Tina. Her assistant was hardworking, intelligent and dedicated to the company. Katia believed that Jack recognized her own loyalty to Carter and Associates, and knew that she’d always been focused on becoming a partner. Insurance was one of the few businesses that still rewarded loyalty, longevity and impressively long client lists.
Katia had always intended to be nothing short of a stellar employee for Jack.
That was another reason she didn’t understand her panic attack. She’d been in a gazillion situations with Jack that many women would construe as romantic, yet they’d all been for work. They’d sailed into the sunset on Lake Michigan with clients, sipped French champagne on the lawn of a Lake Forest estate and danced to harp music at Christmas high tea at the Drake Hotel. Yet every moment had been strictly professional, in conjunction with Katia’s efforts to sign new clients.
Jack stuck to his rules like superglue. He’d never once acted inappropriately; never held her hand or gazed at her a fraction of a second too long.
Over the years, Katia had come to understand that Jack wasn’t into her. Period. And that had been okay.
Until tonight.
Tonight, Katia’s psyche, if not her conscious mind, had suddenly realized that Tina was the last of her friends to pair off. Everyone was married. Except Katia.
She didn’t have weekend lunches or theater matinees with her girlfriends anymore. And when they did manage to get together, half of them had to rush home to kids. Or, like Ava, they had to break dates because of a sick child.
Katia’s iPad dinged with a new email. Katia smiled as she opened the note from Liz.
Hi, Katia,
I’m so happy your friends like our wine so much and that you are true to your word about being my Chicago advertising advocate. I will be happy to put a case aside for you as well as the extra bottles. You can pick them up on your next trip through town. When do you think that will be? I’ve come to look forward to your visits, and though I don’t email on a daily basis, I’m apparently falling into the habit.
We’ve been busy with the harvest, but for me, there’s been a big change. Since I saw you only two weeks ago, Gabe and I got engaged! Because you two knew each other in high school, sharing the news with you was fine with him.
Katia groaned. “Not you, too! Is this some conspiracy?” She exhaled deeply, hoping to rid her cells of her growing envy. She read further.
Honestly, I’ve never been into the white-dress thing, though nearly all my girlfriends are. Frankly, Gabe and I are talking about eloping. Or a seriously small wedding. Don’t say a word—not that you know that many people here anymore! We just don’t see any point in waiting another week, to be honest. Who knows, by the time you come through Indian Lake again, I may be married!
And thank you for asking about my grandfather’s health. He’s doing amazingly well. I can’t believe it, to be honest.
The reason we’re still up is because we just got back from driving an order into town. It was last minute and our customer can be rather demanding when he wants to be. Actually, it’s pretty exciting for us in Indian Lake. Austin McCreary—you probably wouldn’t have known him when you lived here since I think he’s quite a few years older than us. But anyway, we’re excited because he decided to build a car museum on the south side of town. He’s giving a big show-and-tell for the City Council, the Mayor and the Northwest Indiana Tourism Board members and officers. Should be around fifty people. Actually, I’m going to bartend for him, which is another chance to get our wines advertised and “out there.” But Grandpa is fine. He’ll be so pleased when I tell him that our wines were such a hit at your party.
Let me know when you’ll be coming through town. I don’t want to miss you!
Fondly,
Liz
Katia threw back the covers and shot out of bed as if she’d been set on fire. She raked her fingers through her long hair and pulled it tightly away from her face. Any thoughts of sleep were distant.
“This isn’t happening. Austin?”
Katia paced at the end of her bed and then left the bedroom. She went straight to the kitchen and poured a tall glass of milk, took out a full bowl of chocolate mousse and sat at her small table. Her mind raced as she shoved the mousse into her mouth.
She’d made four trips through Indian Lake and hadn’t once thought about Austin. Oh, no. Instead, tonight, when I practically felt as if I was having a heart attack... Now he comes back to haunt me.
She knocked back a big slug of milk. A car museum. Humph. What’s that all about, Austin? As if you need a museum.
Katia finished off the mousse and swallowed the last of the milk. The dishwasher was still running, so she put her dishes in the sink.
Padding quietly into the living room, she sank onto the sofa. The truth was that Indian Lake and Austin McCreary were part of her past. All these years that she’d been in Chicago, working toward her dream of becoming a partner at Carter and Associates, she’d barely thought about her childhood. It was her job and the need to go beyond Chicago to find clients—not nostalgia—that had led her back to Indian Lake this summer. She’d stumbled upon Crenshaw Vineyards, and her new friendship with Liz was the reason she’d returned on several occasions.
Katia had stuffed her past deep down inside her, refusing to bring those shadows into the light. She knew all too well that it could be dangerous to allow those memories to rise to the surface.
Katia had grown up in a mansion in Indian Lake filled with elegant antiques. Katia’s mother, Stephania, had been the housekeeper, but Katia had paid attention to every nuance of Hanna and Daniel McCreary’s lifestyle. Because Stephania had been responsible for overseeing the McCrearys’ everyday schedule, as well as holiday events and dinner parties, Katia had eased into whatever job needed doing, from sous chef to table decorator to bartender. Before Katia had hit her teens, she’d learned about wines from Mr. McCreary. Katia had developed a sharp palate, which she believed was even better than Austin’s at the time.
Austin was three years older than Katia. She hadn’t seen him since the summer she was sixteen, when she and her mother had left Indian Lake. That was the summer Katia had known for certain that Austin had finally fallen in love with her. She’d been in love with him since the day she and her mother had moved into the McCreary mansion when she was only seven years old.
Katia’s parents were immigrants from Russia. Her father had been a mason and tile layer until his death in a truck accident on the South Side of Chicago. Katia’s mother, Stephania, spoke very little English and had never worked in her life before her husband’s death. A friend from their church had told Stephania she knew of two people looking for a full-time housekeeper. Stephania had applied for both jobs, but Hanna McCreary had wanted a live-in housekeeper, and Stephania couldn’t turn down the offer of free room and board for her and Katia.
Daniel McCreary owned a large auto-parts manufacturing plant and a retail store in Indian Lake. That same year, he had signed a very large corporate contract, which required him to spend more hours at the plant and less time at home with his wife and son. Hanna was the president of three charities and overwhelmed with her duties.
Stephania and Katia lived in the rear rooms on the first floor with their own entrance at the back, next to the driveway that led to one of three large old carriage houses. These buildings had been converted into garages to house Daniel’s collection of antique cars.
When they were kids, Austin often treated Katia like a pest and did his best to pretend, especially around his school friends, that she wasn’t anyone special to him. But in the long summer evenings when the light refused to fade and children’s attentions were not easily occupied, Austin had sought Katia out for tennis matches on the family clay courts, a swim in the pool, games of chess or Monopoly when it rained. She was his partner when his mother had forced him to take dancing lessons, and she had held a foil and worn thick cotton armor when he’d learned to fence.
Even then, Katia had known that she was only a substitute playmate for Austin, someone to stand in when his father was too busy to see him, but she didn’t care. She thought Austin walked through the stars at night and skated on sunbeams in the day. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. When Austin was with her, he was happy, carefree and inquisitive. She didn’t care that he shunned her as a “servant” when he was trying to impress his school friends, though at times, their barbs pierced the edges of her feelings. Katia believed that Austin would be her hero and come to her rescue if she ever truly needed it. She believed they were closer than any two people alive and only she knew the “real” Austin.
When Austin was fifteen and she was twelve, Daniel McCreary died. Gone was the man Austin had revered and tried to emulate. She remembered eavesdropping on dinner conversations where Daniel would herald the accomplishments of his grandfather, Ambrose McCreary, who had been one of the pioneer automobile designers at the turn of the century in Indianapolis. He’d talked to his son about Duesenbergs, Auburn Cords and Studebakers. Names from the past, connoting elegance and innovation. Katia had been enthralled as Daniel had spun his dreams of manufacturing replacement parts for antique cars. Austin had continually nagged his father for more stories about Ambrose and the kind of mind that he’d had. More than once, Katia had heard Austin say, “I should have been born back then. I could have been great like him.”
Though she’d understood that Austin was expected to take over his father’s manufacturing plant once he finished business college, for Austin, life without his father in it was like sleepwalking.
Daniel’s funeral had been on Valentine’s Day. Afterward, nearly a hundred people had come to the McCreary mansion for an enormous buffet dinner reception. They’d eaten, drunk, cried, laughed and reminisced.
That night, a blizzard had barreled into Indian Lake, nearly shutting down the interstate. Many guests had been snowbound and talked about sleeping on the library floor until the weather cleared up.
For Austin, it had all been too much. He’d disappeared.
Katia had been frantic until she’d glanced out her bedroom window and seen a faint light glowing in one of the carriage houses. She pulled on her boots and coat, and, taking an envelope from under the sweaters in her dresser drawer, she’d clomped through the new-fallen snow to the carriage house.
She’d found Austin sitting in a blue 1926 Bugatti convertible—Daniel’s favorite. Austin had been sobbing his heart out.
Katia was careful not to make any noise as she approached the car. Daniel had never allowed her to look at the cars, much less touch them. Austin, however, had gleefully sneaked her into the carriage houses each time his father had acquired a new beauty. Austin had been all too happy to display his extensive knowledge of the features and history of each car. He’d taken pride in the fact that his father would go to great lengths to find authentic chrome bumpers for his Duesenberg or brass and glass headlamps for a 1920 Stutz Bearcat. Katia had loved the romance of the exquisite cars with their leather seats, velvet upholstered doors and sterling silver flower vases. It was her way of living in another era by literally touching objects from bygone times.
Sometimes Katia would double-dare Austin into sitting in the 1955 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud. She liked to pretend she was a movie star or a princess in Monaco. Anyone but who she was—the maid’s daughter.
Most of the time, Austin obliged her. He’d told her that since she understood his love for antique cars, she had to be his “kindred soul.” She hadn’t known what that meant at the time, so she’d looked it up in one of the books in Daniel’s library. When she’d read the meaning, she’d wondered if this was Austin’s way of telling her that she was special to him.
She’d just begun to feel as if they were becoming real friends when Daniel had died.
Katia eased her hand over the side of the door and opened it from the inside so as not to smudge the polished exterior. Usually, touching the precious car would have been an invasion, but Katia felt that the world had somehow changed.
It was time for Austin to learn that she was more than just the housekeeper’s daughter and his stand-in playmate. Austin’s eyes were swollen. “Katia. I should have known you would find me.”
“I’m not leaving. Even if you ask me,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat.
“I won’t,” he said, wiping his tears on his tweed jacket sleeve. He folded his arms across the steering wheel and then laid his face on them. “I can’t believe he’s gone. What will I do?”
“What you’ve always done. You’ll grow. Learn and become a man,” she said with a tiny shrug.
“I miss him so much already,” Austin said. He gulped, sounding to Katia as if he’d swallowed something very large. She understood the feeling intensely.
“I know you do,” she said softly, looking at the round dials on the metal dashboard. “That part never goes away.”
His face twisted into a grimace of disdain and disbelief. “What do you—” He stopped abruptly. “I’m so sorry, Katia. So sorry. Of course you know how I feel. You know exactly how I feel. None of the people I go to school with have lost their dads. But you have.” Tears filled his eyes, yet he studied her as if he was seeing her for the first time. “It’s been a while since you talked about your father. Do you still miss him?”
“Every day,” she whispered, a flame igniting at the base of her esophagus and flaring up into her throat. “He—he used to call me Katia lyubov.”
“Louie bov?”
“Lyubov. That’s how you say it.” She nodded. “It means Katia love.”
“He was a sentimental man, then?” Austin asked.
“Yes. He worked hard all his life, but my mother said he had the heart of a poet. She always loved fine things, and he wanted to give them to her—that’s why he worked so hard to bring us to America. He told her he would give her the world, but—”
“He died,” Austin finished for her. “Just like my dad.”
“Yes. Now they’re together. Watching over us, my mother says.”
“Do you believe her?” Austin asked solemnly.
“I do.”
“But how can you know? For sure, I mean. Sometimes I think that whole heaven thing is just another fairy tale.”
“You’re just angry right now. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I am angry. My dad wasn’t supposed to die. He was too young. We had great plans for after graduation. He told me we were going to go to Germany together and drive the autobahn. I wanted to see how they made German cars. I wanted to take classes over there and learn to fix all kinds of foreign cars.”
Katia looked away from him. “Your mother was never going to allow that to happen and you know it.”
“My dad could have talked her into it.”
“She would never let you be a mechanic. Even I know that! She wants you to be a businessman and get a degree from Harvard.”
“Well, it’s not what I want. Besides, I don’t see any other man of the house around here now, do you?” he asked.
“No.”
“See? That’s how things have changed. I’ll be making the rules now.”
Katia chuckled at the lofty tilt to his chin and the smirk on his lips.
She pushed her face up against his. “Don’t you ever look at me like that again, Austin McCreary, or I will never speak to you again. You are not the boss of me and never will be. You got that?”
Austin moved back a few inches. “I just meant that things will be different.”
“Yes. They will. But our parents still make the rules. We don’t have any power yet.”
“Power?”
“That’s what my mom says all the time. She must remind me twice a day that I’m only a servant’s kid. I have no power. That’s why I have to graduate high school and go to college. I think your mother is right about that, too.”
“But I don’t want to run the family business. I want to work on antique cars.”
“Well, I want to be a movie star.”
“You’re pretty enough,” Austin said with a smile that Katia knew she’d remember the rest of her life.
“Austin, I’m not sure what I actually want to be. That’s just what I want right now. I’ll probably change my mind a bunch before I’m even your age. I only know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
She reached into the pocket of her winter coat and pulled out the envelope that she’d hidden in her drawer for a week. “I want to give you this.” She handed it to him.
Austin took the envelope. “What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
Carefully, he pulled out a folded piece of red construction paper. It opened into a heart. On it, Katia had glued bits of white lace she’d found in the attic, and she’d written snippets of Russian poems. She’d folded over pale blue pieces of construction paper and glued them to the heart, as well. Each of the folded notes contained dates.
“What is this? July 17? And September 26? I don’t understand.”
“Those are special days to me. On July 17, the summer I first came to live here, you taught me to ride a bike. On September 26, you finally let me play tennis with two of your friends. You said you needed another person for doubles.”
“Yes. Last year. And we beat them,” he said.
“Christmas is always a special day here. And so is Halloween. That’s why I put those dates down.”
Austin looked at her then, and for the first time, Katia was aware of a boy looking at her with love in his eyes. She felt her heart thrum and warmth surged through her. She didn’t know if what she was feeling was normal or not, but it was incredibly exciting.
“And today is February 14. Valentine’s Day,” Austin said, reaching over to touch her hand. “I don’t have a card for you. I don’t have one for anyone. I guess I didn’t think much about it.”
“I made the card a while ago.”
“Before my father’s heart attack.”
“Yeah.”
“So you didn’t give me this just to make me feel better today?”
“No.”
“Then, why?”
“I want to be your friend, Austin. Your real friend. Always.”
“I’d like that, Katia,” he’d said as he gently folded the Valentine, put it in the envelope and slipped it into the breast pocket of his tweed jacket.
“Always...” Katia said out loud, jolting out of her reverie. Of all her memories of Austin, that Valentine’s Day was the sweetest. But what happened afterward made it painful to remember, too.
Austin hadn’t had a single opportunity to make any rules for himself. That autumn, his mother had shipped him off to New York to attend York Prep School, where he’d remained until his graduation.
With Austin away at school, Katia felt as if she’d been set adrift on an iceberg in the middle of the Black Sea. Katia didn’t know whom to blame. At times she felt as if she’d done something wrong, but her love for Austin wouldn’t allow her to hide in shame. Other times, she was angry that Hanna would think so ill of her that she couldn’t trust Katia and Austin to be alone. Through it all, she was lonely without Austin and she missed him more than she’d thought possible. By the time she was sixteen, they’d truly fallen in love, and the days without him were torturously long and empty. Nothing she did could fill the void. She counted the days until he came home for holidays. She wrote long letters to him and mailed them without Stephania’s or Hanna’s knowledge.
Though he never wrote back, he called her every Sunday night just after his weekly call to his mother. Katia waited in her bedroom and told her mother that one of her girlfriends was on the phone. Austin had to stand in line for a pay phone in his dorm, with other boys hanging over his shoulder, and the calls were often strained and awkward. Too often, Katia hung up in tears.
When Austin did come home for vacations, Katia made a fool of herself by hanging on to him, begging for kisses and promising to do everything and anything he asked. Then he would leave again for school and the torture would start all over.
Katia was so caught up in her obsession with Austin that she didn’t realize her wise and sharp-eyed mother had seen and heard everything.
Stephania was convinced Katia would get pregnant on Austin’s next school break. There was barely enough income to contribute to Katia’s upcoming schooling as it was. The cost of a third mouth to feed—not to mention the time and energy required to care for a baby—would diminish any hopes Katia had of attending college, and her future opportunities would dwindle. Stephania told her daughter that her own job in the McCreary household would be on the line if things went too far with Austin. He would come out of the scandal unscathed, while Katia and Stephania would pay the price—financially and emotionally.
Katia tried to convince her mother that she was wrong about her and Austin, but Stephania couldn’t be swayed. Before Austin returned home, Stephania announced to Hanna that she wanted to quit. In a matter of days they’d moved to Stephania’s cousin’s house on the South Side of Chicago.
Katia was devastated. She was impossibly in love with Austin, and she believed in her heart that he loved her back. But the shame she felt when she overheard her mother explain their sudden appearance in Chicago to her cousins was unbearable. Katia would always know that because of her love for Austin, her mother had lost a good income. They’d been forced to take charity from their family.
Yet being without Austin was agonizing, and Katia cried every night for months after the move. Still, she was embarrassed by the way she’d acted around him; when they were together, she couldn’t think straight, much less make intelligent decisions. Though Katia knew that she would never have gotten pregnant, she had to admit her mother was right that her relationship with Austin could have compromised her future and well-being.
The only way to cure her addiction to Austin was to never write or call him again. She despised herself for not contacting him, but at the time, she’d felt she had no choice. She had to make a new life and put Austin in the past—forever.
Fortunately, Stephania landed a good-paying job at a luxury hotel in downtown Chicago. She loved her work and often brought Katia to the city to shop and eat in the hotel dining room. Stephania adored Chicago city life, and this was her way of trying to make amends with Katia after taking her away from Indian Lake. Those had been good years, despite Katia’s broken heart. Stephania had remained at the hotel until she’d died of cancer nearly ten years ago.
Katia had come a long way since she’d lived in Indian Lake. But thinking of Austin now, she rediscovered a lead coat of guilt she thought she’d long ago discarded.
Katia had broken Austin McCreary’s heart, and she’d never apologized, never tried to contact him. Never once had she lifted a finger to do the right thing.
She was the bad guy.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_d535c713-9f30-53c0-a8a8-b43047010718)
KATIA WAS WEARING a gray wool pencil skirt, a black turtleneck cashmere sweater and black pumps when she walked into Jack’s office on Monday morning. Jack had called her in for a brainstorming meeting with him and Barry. She carried a legal pad, pen and the chocolate mousse for Barry.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said cheerily, placing the foil-wrapped cake on the credenza behind Barry’s chair. “That’s for you and Ava.”
Barry glared at the wrapped silver lump. “Thanks. What is it?”
Katia’s smile dropped from her face. She noticed Jack’s head was down as he peered at a report of some kind in front of him. The tension in the room was as thick as February fog and nearly as visible. “Cake. Okay, guys. What’s up?”
Barry glanced out the window.
Coward.
Slowly, Jack raised his head, and his dark eyes settled on her. “Have a seat. Want some coffee?”
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Let’s get to it. You look like you could use something.”
“Something,” Jack mumbled.
Katia stared at the partners. She didn’t like the way they were avoiding her gaze, and Jack’s face almost wore pity. She felt her blood turn to ice. “You’re firing me.”
Jack folded his hands on his desk. “I think that’s a little drastic just yet.”
Barry squirmed in his chair. “I had suggested some staff cuts, but Jack disagreed. The problem is that for all intents and purposes, the company is most likely going down.”
Katia pressed her fingertips into her temples. “Wait a minute. Back up. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? We’re supposed to be brainstorming. Maybe I can help.”
Barry swiped his face with his palm. “Right now, we’re bleeding money. If we cut your salary and lay off a few employees, Jack and I might be able to hang on.”
“A couple of the... You mean Tina?” Katia couldn’t believe this.
Apparently, whatever mess they were in, Barry’s solution was retreat. Well, she’d tried that strategy once in her life and look where it had gotten her. No. Retreat was out of the question. No wonder Jack had wanted her to stay sharp for this meeting. These guys needed a miracle.
Jack leaned forward. “I didn’t tell you last night, Katia, but on Friday, Tina handed in her notice. After the wedding, she and Allen are moving to Wisconsin. He got a job as assistant coach at the university.”
“But...she didn’t say a word to me.” Katia felt wounded and slightly betrayed that Tina hadn’t confided in her. Clearly, Tina saw their relationship differently than Katia. Tina was Jack’s employee and Katia’s assistant. They weren’t friends, as Katia had assumed. No, Tina had probably read the situation correctly. Katia should have known better than to assume her work relationships were anything more.
Katia’s mind kicked into warp speed. She may have been wrong to get so invested in her friendships with colleagues, but if she wanted to keep whatever career she had left, she needed to come up with a brilliant plan to save her job.
“Can I at least say my piece?”
Barry sliced the air with his arm. “I don’t see how—”
Jack cut him off. “Go ahead, Katia.” He shot Barry a quelling look. Barry frowned but told her to go on. Katia took a deep breath and decided to give it all she had. “Since the first day I walked into these offices, I knew I was in the right place and that I would help your company grow. I took pride in my work, and I still do. You both know my goal is to eventually become a partner here. I want equal say, equal pay and equal respect. I want to grow old with this company. You two may be the last honest guys in the insurance business, and I swear to you, I have no problem convincing clients of that. I also know I could sell our plans to the devil himself if I had to.” She stood up and put a hand on her slim hip. “So out with it. What’s going on?”
Jack exhaled and leaned back in his chair. He twirled a ballpoint pen in his fingers. “All right, truth time. You’re aware that we’ve been pushing for new clients. That’s why we sent you up to Michigan and Indiana. You brought us three good companies, but it’s not enough.” Jack paused and glanced at Barry, who gave him a slight nod. “Katia, our expenses are eating us up. Both Barry and I have taken a pay cut. But the corporate taxes doubled this year. We got notice two months ago that our rent has increased by more than half. Sure, we could move—”
“But rents are skyrocketing in Chicago,” Barry cut in. “Add to that the mounting cost of benefits and the 401(k) program. It’s not what it was when you first signed on.”
“That’s why Barry came up with the idea to become a web-based business. Our site is really shaping up—I think Barry’s done a great job.”
Katia smiled at Barry. “It’s a good move. It shows we’re on top of the times, and it gives us access to people in other states without having to travel. But it’s not enough, is it?”
“No,” Jack replied.
Katia tried to concentrate. Coming up with a good idea felt like chopping through a jungle with only a butter knife. Then she had it. She pictured a billboard she’d driven by on one of her trips to Indiana. Stillinoyed? it had read.
The billboard was a direct slam against the political system that was strangling Illinois businessmen like Jack and Barry. Katia had read articles about the steady stream of Chicago-area businesses that were relocating to Indiana. The state was trying to entice companies with lower corporate and property taxes, less regulation and more affordable goods and services.
“How far would you be willing to move?” she asked the partners.
Jack stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“You just said you’d move across town to lower your rent. How about moving a little farther? Say, out of state, to Indiana. I was thinking about Indian Lake, to be specific. It’s only an hour away. Great access to the city on the tollway or the interstate. South Shore runs through there. I will bet the rents are a third of what you’re paying. We’d have to let the staff here go, but I could hire locals for the office. Barry can stay here and run the online business so he doesn’t have to move Ava and the baby. For now anyway. It’ll be bare bones, Jack. You and me. We’ll run the office and build our clientele from there.”
“Pshht.” Barry waved off Katia’s idea before she had a chance to finish talking. “It’ll never work.”
“Why not?” Katia demanded.
Barry raised his eyebrows in contempt. “New clients? From Indian Lake? You’re out of your mind.”
Think, Katia. Think.
“Jack just told you my three clients from Michigan are good ones.”
“Not enough,” Barry countered. “We have the entire city of Chicago at our fingertips and we’re not getting anywhere.”
“That’s because the companies here want to be with the big brokers. If they’re not dealing with Lloyds of London, they’re not happy. But if we move out of our box just a bit and concentrate on smaller communities, people and business in middle America, I think they’ll want us. They’re dying for someone they can trust. That’s what they’re missing. They need us!” Katia felt adrenaline spiral through her body. At this point in her pitch, she was convinced she could have sold freezers to Alaskans.
“It’s too drastic,” Barry grumbled.
Jack peered at Katia. “We need drastic. And I like this. Keep talking, Katia.” He folded his arms over his chest.
He was challenging her. If she could pull this off, she knew Jack would back her for a partnership. It was a long way to go and there would be a lot of work ahead, but she could do this. “I just got wind of a large account that’s coming up.”
“How large?” Barry asked, suddenly more curious than condemning.
“Millions, from what I remember.”
“Okay, you have my curiosity,” Jack said. “Go on.”
“I grew up in Indian Lake.” She held up a palm to stop their protests before they started. “Trust me, this isn’t about childhood nostalgia or anything like that. In fact, I haven’t kept in touch with anyone from back then. Austin McCreary is one of the wealthiest men in town—heir to a family fortune. He’s the only McCreary remaining now, but his father left him his antique car collection when he died. Tomorrow, Austin is announcing to the city council his intention to build a car museum in Indian Lake. Can you imagine how much that building alone will cost?”
“I can’t. Why doesn’t the guy just put them in a garage?”
“He has garages. Three of them. Carriage houses, actually, and they were already full of cars when I was a kid. I’ll do some checking around and find out what kind of valuation we’re talking about. But the way I see it, he’ll have to cover the cars and the museum, there will be liability insurance for the museum workers, and he’ll need an umbrella liability plan for the visitors.”
“What kind of cars?” Jack asked.
“The 1926 Bugatti is my favorite,” Katia replied with a smug grin.
Barry whistled appreciatively. “This is for real? Holy cow!”
Jack beamed with confidence, and Katia was struck with the notion that she’d given him back his charisma. “Can you get into that meeting tomorrow?”
“I...I think so.”
“Do it,” Jack commanded. “I like this idea of yours, Katia. All of it. I don’t have a problem moving to a small town if it will save our hides. Keep an eye out for office space while you’re there. And get me this guy’s business. I don’t care what it takes. A guy like that has to have friends, and if he likes us and our products, he’ll get them to come on board with us, too.”
“Good thinking,” Barry said with his first real smile of the day.
Katia should have floated out of Jack’s office on a cloud of victory. Instead, as she left the meeting, she realized she’d just slipped a hangman’s noose around her throat. Oh, she’d saved the day, all right. But she knew that if there was anyone Austin McCreary would never, ever do business with—it was her.
Katia wished she could rewrite the past, but that was impossible. She would have to figure out another way to change Austin’s mind.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_d841c9ec-b071-5436-bb99-e7b52ba98d55)
AUSTIN MCCREARY SHOVED his tennis racket into a battered brown leather cover, zipped it up and waited for Rafe Barzonni to come around to his side of the clay tennis court. Austin had been playing on this court, in his own backyard, since he was five years old. “Great game, Rafe.”
“Anytime, man. You still have the best court in the Midwest. Not to mention a killer backhand I’m never going to beat.”
“You’re just a glutton for punishment.”
“Self-inflicted abuse is not my thing, Austin. Seriously, I’ve seen guys at Wimbledon who look as good as you.”
“Ha!” Austin picked up a white hand towel from the wrought iron table and wiped the sweat from his face. His blond hair was dripping wet. “Tournaments are for young kids. Ones with lots of talent and support. I never had either,” he said, his voice filling with regret.
Rafe grabbed his own towel. “Sorry, bro. I know you have talent—for a lot of things. You just don’t want anyone to know it, that’s all.”
“You’ve got that right. Besides, you’re just bad enough to make me feel good,” Austin bantered back good-naturedly. “Honestly, I appreciate you being able to play this early in the morning. I’ve got fifty-some odd people due here at one, and I swear, I’d never get through it if I didn’t have a chance to work off some steam.” Austin slapped Rafe on the shoulder as they walked through the terrace door and into the kitchen.
At the sink, Austin’s sixty-one-year-old housekeeper, Daisy Kempshaw, was peeling an apple. Daisy was short, as thin as one of Austin’s rackets and capable of taking on both Austin and Rafe in tennis, a shouting match and just about any other confrontation. Daisy approached life on the offensive rather than the defensive. She was rough, scrappy and had the energy of six men.
“No strawberries and cream today,” Daisy announced before Austin had a chance to greet her.
“I didn’t ask for any,” Austin said.
“Wipe your feet, the both of you,” Daisy said. “I just mopped.” Then she pointed toward the hallway door. “The caterer is here unloading in the dining room. She’s taken up all my refrigerator space with her food, and there’s no room for you to eat breakfast with all her whatnots strewn across the nook table.”
Austin glanced at the round walnut table that sat in a huge beveled glass window area on the far side of the kitchen. It was stacked with boxes of serving pieces, rental glasses, china and linens.
“Good,” he muttered. “I didn’t want to use mother’s good china and silver for this event.”
Rafe picked up his small workout bag. “Well, I’m outta here. See you Saturday, Austin. Nine o’clock?”
“Perfect!” Austin shook his friend’s hand.
Rafe strode over to the swinging kitchen door and pushed it open.
“Ow!” came a cry from the other side.
“Oh, boy,” Rafe said. He stepped back gingerly.
Standing on the other side of the door was Olivia Melton, dressed in dark jeans and a chef’s coat, her hair pulled on top of her head in a tight knot. She held a tray of artistically arranged vegetables in one hand and pressed her other hand to her forehead.
“I’m so sorry,” Rafe apologized. “Are you hurt badly?”
“I’ll live,” she said.
Austin raced to the freezer. “Some ice will do the trick.”
Olivia shook her head. “No time. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m really sorry,” Rafe repeated. “I didn’t know you were there.”
Olivia waved him off. “It’s okay. I’m just in a hurry. I have work to do and not enough time to do it in.”
Rafe glanced at Austin, who shrugged. “Okay. I’ll see you, Austin.”
When Rafe had closed the front door behind him, Daisy threw Austin a judgmental look. “You better get showered, mister. Your folks will be here in forty-five minutes.” She checked the clock that hung over the kitchen sink. “Make that forty-two.”
“I’ll be ready.” He turned to Olivia. “I’m sorry about the accident. Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?”
Now Daisy’s warning look was aimed at Olivia. “You? Uh, not a thing. I’ll have the buffet table set up in twenty minutes and the poached salmon to decorate. I’ll put the rest out after your speech.”
“And the bartender?” Austin asked.
“Liz is on her way,” Daisy assured him, continuing to peel apples for the fruit tray.
“Then, I guess we’re ready.”
Daisy speared him with another quelling glare. “We will be when you quit sweating on my clean kitchen floor.”
“Got it,” he said, rushing out of the kitchen and down the hall.
Just as he was about to climb the staircase, he stopped and poked his head into the living room. The noonday sun poured through the windows and illuminated the room with an ethereal glow. Austin and Daisy had moved the furniture to the perimeter, leaving a large open space for the guests to gather around the architect’s model of the car museum he intended to build.
The model sat majestically on a round Sheridan table. It was only balsa wood, glue, paper and cardboard at this point, but for Austin, it was real. Chase Tinsdale, the Chicago architect he’d hired, had transformed Austin’s vision into matter.
Austin’s grandfather, Ambrose, had built the McCreary mansion to be a close, though more modern, replica of the Hermitage, the home of his idol and favorite president, Andrew Jackson. To honor his grandfather, Austin had chosen the same architectural design for the museum.
For three generations, the consensus in Indian Lake was that the McCreary home was the most beautiful in town. The classic lines and elegance befitted the family’s name. To fashion the museum after the house was also Austin’s attempt at building a family brand.
To cut costs, Chase had eliminated the two flanking wings on the north and south sides, since the museum would be facing west. There would be three floors, accessible by elevator, and two sets of stairs, though they wouldn’t be as fancy as the cantilevered one in Austin’s home. Chase had also altered the original design to accommodate an extralarge elevator to move the cars around the building. On the main floor were a small café, a larger restaurant, a gift shop and administrative offices. The inner rotunda was large enough to display four cars. The second and third floors were designated for displaying cars, as well.
Chase had proposed using UV protective glass windows around the building, allowing light in but keeping out the aging rays that, over time, would act like battery acid on historically correct auto paint.
Austin smiled widely. He’d dreamed of this museum since the day his dad died. Finally, his tribute to his father and grandfather would be a reality.
“Austin!” Daisy yelled from the kitchen. “I don’t hear that shower running!”
Austin chuckled to himself. No one had ever bossed him around like his housekeeper. “I’m going!”
Austin took the carpeted stairs two at a time, whistling loudly.
* * *
KATIA ARRIVED AT the McCreary mansion at one o’clock sharp. She parked the rental car on Maple Avenue, at the far end of a long line of vehicles, all apparently here for the presentation.
Just seeing the house she had once called home caused her chest to tighten and her heart to pound. Her mouth was so dry she felt as if she’d been chewing on cotton balls all morning. She touched her forehead. Sure enough, she was perspiring already.
Katia, what are you doing?
She didn’t understand what was happening to her. Faced with the possibility of losing her job, she’d responded with arrogant courage. She’d had to come up with company-saving solutions at the speed of light, and she’d had to pretend she believed in what she was saying.
She’d been scared stiff then, but her show of confidence had served her well, because somehow she’d convinced both Jack and Barry that they’d never heard anything better in their lives. Now she just had to persuade herself.
She smoothed the lapels of her navy wool suit, picked up her matching purse from the seat and got out of the car.
The moment she turned to face the mansion, she froze. The house couldn’t have been more imposing if it was Buckingham Palace.
Her reaction was absolutely ridiculous. She knew every inch of the house, the grounds...even the pool equipment. She should have been comforted by the fact that this was simply a reunion of sorts.
But she didn’t feel safe at all. This has got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever come up with.
She couldn’t believe she was back here to see Austin. She had no clue if he was married or had children. Did he have a girlfriend or fiancée now? Did he ever think about her? Katia had always assumed Austin held a grudge against her for cutting him out of her life when she’d moved to Chicago. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she’d just been the maid’s daughter after all—an insignificant blip in his teenage life. Maybe he didn’t remember her at all.
Yes, Katia carried a great deal of guilt because she’d never contacted him, but there was a case to be made for the fact that after that summer, she hadn’t heard from Austin, either.
Would he greet everyone at the door? And if he did, what was she going to say? She’d thought about sneaking around to the back door and entering through the kitchen. She knew just how to jimmy the latch on the wooden gate to get in. Katia had devised a dozen excuses to give to Austin if he tried to throw her out. She’d settled on the truth.
She would tell him that she’d been passing through Indian Lake on business over the summer and that Liz had told her about the museum. Since his presentation was open to the public, she had decided to use the opportunity to see him again.
Katia couldn’t predict how difficult it was going to be to sell her insurance to Austin. She had tried to factor in every possible angle and outcome of her pitch so that she was somewhat prepared for whatever he threw at her. What she hadn’t considered was this sudden panic attack. She knew she could sell her product to just about anyone, but she had to remain in control to do it.
Katia’s hands were shaking. This was impossible. She had to act cool, professional and knowledgeable. Fear was not acceptable.
She noticed a black Cadillac Escalade pull up in front of the McCreary house. The doors opened, and six well-dressed men and women got out and went into the house.
Showtime.
She inhaled deeply to steel her nerves, lifted her chin and crossed the street.
Time to face my past.
Katia slipped in the front door behind the group from the Escalade. Austin was already addressing the group. She’d only had twenty-four hours to prepare for crashing his party, but even a lifetime wouldn’t have prepared her to see Austin again.
In her mind, Austin had remained eighteen, so this blond, self-assured, handsome, tanned, enthusiastic man who held everyone spellbound was a shock.
Though he wore black pants and a simple white shirt, the way he pointed out the historic details of the Doric columns flanking the entrance and the use of Indiana limestone for the walkways and porches spoke of sophistication and manners that Katia hadn’t seen since she’d lived here.
Katia caught Liz Crenshaw’s eye and stealthily moved along the back wall to stand next to her.
“Glad you could make it,” Liz whispered with a smile.
“Thanks for telling me about it.”
Next to Liz was a petite elderly woman wearing a black-and-white print dress. She smiled at Katia, and her clear, cornflower-blue eyes twinkled. Katia recognized her in an instant. “Mrs. Beabots? Is that you?”
Mrs. Beabots tilted her head to the right, stared at Katia and then her smile grew wider. “Katia Stanislaus,” she said softly so as not to disrupt Austin’s speech. “Why, I’d know you anywhere, my dear. Come give me hug.”
Katia had to bend down to embrace the tiny woman. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Maddie and I were the first ones Austin invited!” Mrs. Beabots grabbed the hand of the pretty green-eyed woman next to her. Katia leaned over and shook Maddie’s outstretched hand. “Katia. Nice to meet you.”
“You, as well,” Maddie whispered back.
Mrs. Beabots nodded. “Maddie made the desserts. You’ll love them.”
“I’m sure I will,” Katia said.
“Maddie’s almost famous. She owns Cupcakes and Cappuccino in Chicago,” Mrs. Beabots said, beaming proudly at Maddie.
Katia’s eyes grew round. She’d been to Cupcakes and Cappuccino with Tina. “I love your café,” she whispered to Maddie. “We should talk afterward.”
Katia turned her attention back to Austin’s speech, thinking how fortuitous it was that she’d made friends with Liz. Now she was reunited with Mrs. Beabots, and she’d come face-to-face with a young Chicago entrepreneur who just might be in need of her insurance services.
Austin continued explaining the museum’s purpose and its benefit to the community. Katia counted over seventy-five people in the room. She kept her face hidden from Austin’s view by ducking behind a tall man in front of her. Fortunately, Austin was so focused on showing off his model and extolling the family history and his grandfather’s creativity that his eyes never settled on one particular face.
Behind Austin were three easels with architectural and designer drawings of the museum interior. He pointed out the features of each of the floors, and when he finished, he asked the crowd for questions.
The journalists peppered him with dozens of particulars about construction, costs and opening dates.
The entire room fell silent when a man who introduced himself as the editor of the Northern Indiana Times cocked his head and asked, “And who is the backer for this expensive museum?”
Austin pursed his lips in a self-satisfied smile, nearly bordering on a smirk. “I am.”
The editor gaped at Austin. “Let me get this straight. You didn’t invite us all here today to petition for donations?”
Austin shoved his hands into his pockets. “No, I didn’t. As I told you, I intend to pay for the building myself. Eventually, the museum will be my gift to the city.”
At the front of the room a young woman asked, “Will you be donating the cars, as well?”
Austin laughed heartily. “I’m afraid I’ll be keeping those...at least until my death, which I hope isn’t for quite some time. But they will be on loan to the city and housed in the museum. I want younger generations, especially, to understand how thrilling it must have been for the inventors of another age to literally change the way human beings live. Only the airplane and the computer have had as great an impact on our everyday lives as the automobile. I’m proud that my grandfather was a pioneer in the automotive industry over a hundred years ago. This is my way of making certain that his contribution is remembered.”
Mrs. Beabots folded her arms over her chest and mumbled something under her breath, though Katia couldn’t make out what she said.
Katia was keenly aware that the crowd was hanging on Austin’s every word. The reporters took copious notes, and people were filming and taking photos of Austin on their phones. Katia wouldn’t be the only one trying to sell Austin insurance. The difference between Katia and other agencies—she hoped—was that she was desperate to save her company, so she would take some risks that others might not. She had already placed inquiries to a dozen companies that she represented to put a package together for Austin that she hoped would make him salivate.
Austin wrapped up his speech and invited everyone to take part in the buffet that had been set out in the dining room. “There’s plenty of local Crenshaw Vineyards wine, as well. And we are graced by Liz Crenshaw herself to introduce you to the splendors of their award-winning product.”
Austin thrust his arm in Liz’s direction to point her out to the guests.
Liz stepped away from the wall and moved forward, stirring the crowd just enough to give Katia a full view of Austin.
Her eyes locked on his, and though he saw her, he didn’t seem to recognize her. Or he did, and he was a superb actor.
Austin’s hands dropped to his sides. Though he kept a smile clamped on his face, he remained rigid.
The crowd dispersed slowly, like the shifting sand after a wave has rushed onto shore.
Mrs. Beabots was the last to leave the room, and then it was just Katia standing across from Austin in the front parlor of the house she grew up in.
“Hello, Austin.”
“Katia.”
She thought her heart would hammer a hole right through her chest, but she didn’t dare let him know how much he affected her. She couldn’t decide whether to smile at him, rush to him and hold his hand or ask his forgiveness on the spot. She felt as if she’d turned to stone. She couldn’t think or move.
She was filled with blistering guilt.
“Austin, I’m so—”
His hands shot up to silence her. “Katia, leave. Now.”
“But, Austin, I want to talk to you...”
He shook his head. “Leave. It’s what you do best.”
He spun on his heel and stormed into the hall. Katia followed him out of the front parlor and stepped into the main hallway in time to see him talking to a woman carrying a tray of marinated shrimp. Katia assumed she was his cook or housekeeper.
“Daisy, there is a woman in the living room,” Austin was saying. “If she’s still there after you put that tray in the dining room, call the cops and have her removed.”
“Sure thing,” Daisy replied.
Katia watched as Austin raced up the majestic staircase and disappeared.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_e97d04c1-03b9-55d7-8912-2ca2a6e0d052)
KATIA WAS STUNNED by Austin’s anger. If she’d ever doubted that he’d loved her once, she didn’t anymore. This degree of hatred could only be balanced by the same degree of love. A long time ago, Austin had believed in her and had finally realized that she loved him.
“But we were only kids...”
Katia’s eyes brimmed with tears as she gazed up the empty staircase, knowing Austin had gone to his room. He’d abandoned his guests because of her. He’d told his housekeeper to have her thrown out.
Katia knew she’d be in trouble if she stayed, but Jack’s directive wasn’t far from her mind. She needed to meet the people in that dining room, needed their expertise and guidance to help her establish Carter and Associates in town. She couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by.
Yet her heart went out to Austin. What could she say to him? An apology, after all this time, seemed meaningless. Austin wasn’t angry because she’d moved. He was angry because she hadn’t come back. And worse, she hadn’t come back for him.
Was that what he was saying now? That he thought she’d come back to rekindle their romance? Nothing could have been further from her thoughts. She wasn’t in love with Austin. She’d put those feelings away a long time ago. She was here to keep her job and build her future. With Jack.
One day, after she made all that happen, she would move back to Chicago and resume her life. Yes, she thought, I’ll go back, and everything will be just as it was.
Just then, the housekeeper came out of the dining room with an empty bowl. She peered up at Katia. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”
Katia made the decision on the spot. “Yes,” she said. “Are you going to call the police like he asked?”
Daisy shook her head and planted a hand on her hip. “If I had a nickel for every time he told me to do something stupid and I didn’t do it—”
“I get it,” Katia said, her eyes wandering up the stairs again. “Is he often like this?”
“Angry? No. Shutting himself away? Always.”
“Really? But why?”
Daisy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re new in town, aren’t ya?”
“Sort of. Well, yes.”
“So you don’t know about him?” Daisy pointed to the second floor.
Katia was tempted to share the whole story, but then thought better of it. “What should I know?”
“He likes being alone. A lot. He’s a recluse, I’d guess you’d say. And I would know. I’ve been here for nearly twenty years. I nursed Mrs. McCreary through her grief. Then cancer. I went to Austin’s college graduation. Hanna and I were the only ones there. I’m just about the only family he’s got left, really.”
Katia smiled and thrust her hand out to Daisy. “Then, I’m grateful to you for taking care of him. I’m—”
“Katia,” Daisy replied, staring at Katia’s hand.
“You recognized me?”
“Not till just a minute ago.”
“So he told you about me?” Katia asked, lowering her hand and wondering if she even wanted to hear the truth.
“His mother did. Broke his heart, she told me. You two musta been somethin’ back then for him to act like this after all these years. Still,” Daisy mused, looking up the stairs, “this is typical Austin behavior. You might as well go in and have somethin’ to eat. He won’t be back down.”
“What? He has guests!”
Daisy shrugged. “Oh, them? They don’t care. They probably didn’t expect him to hang around after his talk anyway. He doesn’t socialize.”
Katia was disbelieving at first, but then she glanced into the dining room and saw everyone chatting and eating as if nothing had happened. Daisy certainly knew more about the Austin of today than she did. “So Austin is incommunicado for the rest of the afternoon?”
“He’ll be on his phone or laptop until they leave,” Daisy told her. “Then he’ll go to the plant till late in the evening, as usual.”
“Well, thank you, Daisy. I think I will have something to eat. It’s a long drive back to Chicago.”
“Oh, so that’s where you’ve been?” Daisy probed.
Katia understood in an instant that Daisy was probably as loyal to Austin as she was to Jack. Daisy would relay any information she revealed. Katia chose her words carefully. “For the moment, yes. My insurance firm is relocating here to Indian Lake. That’s why I do need to introduce myself to some of the guests. I’m looking to rent office space, hire office personnel, find both myself and my boss places to live. Things like that.”
“What about your family?” Daisy asked.
“I’m alone,” Katia replied, intending to sound neutral. Instead, the word came out of her mouth with a great deal more feeling than she’d planned. Again, she had no idea why her emotions kept overwhelming her at such inopportune times. It was as if they had a life of their own, and the steel-edged control she’d always maintained had sprung a leak. “What I meant was I’m not married, and I don’t have to worry about children and schools and all that.”
“I know what you meant,” Daisy said. “Housing is hard to find here in Indian Lake. Good luck with that.” Without another word, Daisy turned and trounced toward the kitchen.
Glancing up the stairs one last time, Katia felt a strange pull to ignore her company’s mission and go straight to Austin’s bedroom and demand to speak with him, but she chickened out.
Katia forced herself to move into the dining room. The buffet table was centered with a huge bouquet of sunflowers, bronze chrysanthemums and yellow roses. The guests were laughing and discussing the impact of the car museum on Indian Lake tourism. The tourism board members were tossing around ideas about ad campaigns, and she heard two of the city council members chatting about potential problems with traffic and parking.
“Katia,” Liz called from the far side of the room. “Come join us.”
Liz was standing with Mrs. Beabots and Maddie next to a dessert table that was laden with dozens of exquisitely iced and decorated cupcakes. Mrs. Beabots sipped a small glass of white wine.
“Those are gorgeous,” Katia gushed as she inspected the desserts.
“Thanks,” Maddie replied. “I wanted them to be a bit over-the-top for Austin.”
Katia’s head jerked up. “Why’s that?”
“If it weren’t for Austin being my first investor, my café here in town would never have existed and I wouldn’t have dreamed of building my business into franchises.”
Katia was surprised. Austin might be a recluse, but he obviously had a head for business. “He did that?”
Maddie smiled broadly. “He’s a strange duck, I’ll give him that. He’s never set foot in my café, can you believe that? I still bring him seven cupcakes every Friday morning at eight. Just like clockwork. Although I mix up the flavors for him so he can try my new recipes.” She rocked back on her heels, seeming both proud and grateful. “He’s been a very good friend to me.”
“I should say so,” Mrs. Beabots added. “I’ve known Austin and his family since I was a young girl.”
“Really?” Katia and Maddie chirped in unison. Katia swallowed back a guilt-edged lump in her throat. She remembered Mrs. Beabots as the kindly older lady down the street whose gardens she always admired. She also recalled Hanna talking about charity committees she served on with Mrs. Beabots. Since Mrs. Beabots had known the family for decades, she would have heard all about Katia and her former relationship with Austin. Mrs. Beabots could be a very good ally for her.
Liz handed Katia a glass of white wine. “Try this chardonnay, Katia. It’s a new reserve for us. Aged eighteen months in French oak barrels. I value your opinion.”
Katia sipped the wine and smiled. “It’s so buttery and smooth. I love it.”
“I thought you would.” Liz beamed and then noticed Maddie and Mrs. Beabots staring at her. “What?”
Mrs. Beabots patted Liz’s arm. “Katia was just about to tell us why she’s come back to Indian Lake. Weren’t you, dear?”
Katia nearly choked on the wine. Maybe Mrs. Beabots wouldn’t be the best ally after all. She cleared her throat. “I-I’m relocating my company to Indian Lake as soon as I can find an appropriate office.”
“That is so cool!” Liz interjected happily.
“How large of a space?” Maddie asked perfunctorily. “Do you plan for many employees? Will they be moving here with you?”
Mrs. Beabots placed her hand on Maddie’s cheek and looked at Katia. “She gets excited. Now, Katia, there’s a lovely upstairs loft across from the courthouse that had a rental sign in the window. I saw it just last week. Let’s see...” She glanced around the room. “Yes. There’s Sharon Goodman. I’ll introduce you. The space would be perfect for you. It’s got a beautiful view and two walls of glass. You’ll like that.”
Maddie shot a curious look at Mrs. Beabots. “How do you know what she’d like?”
“Why, it’s obvious. She’s been working in Chicago with all those lights and city amenities. She and her boss will never stand being on the outskirts of town for a minute. They’d go stir-crazy. That intersection is the busiest in the county. It’s only a block to the deli. A block and half to Enzo’s. The bank is on the corner and—” she stared pointedly at Katia “—it’s only six blocks to my house.”
“Your house?” Katia asked.
“That’s a great idea!” Maddie exclaimed. “Mrs. Beabots has an entire third floor that was renovated into a very nice apartment a year ago. It used to be a ballroom. Luke Bosworth and his two children lived there before he married Sarah Jensen next door.”
“Sarah Jensen? Do I know her?” Katia asked Mrs. Beabots.
“She’s a bit younger than you, but you might remember her mother, Ann Marie Jensen. She died a couple years ago. Cancer. You might recall that Ann Marie planted the flowers along Maple Avenue. Sarah lives in the family house now with Luke, Annie and Timmy.”
A hundred memories of being a little girl flashed through Katia’s mind. Walking along this street to go to school, to church or into town with her mother to shop. Happy memories. Loving memories. Suddenly, Katia’s life in Chicago dissipated like fog lifting off a hill as it rose out of a valley. She did remember Ann Marie kneeling on the November cool earth of the boulevard, planting tulip and iris bulbs. Mrs. Jensen had taught her how to plant a bulb. She’d shown Katia how to place the bulb in the earth with the flat side down and the tiny shoots pointing upward. It hadn’t been the kind of information that would change anyone’s life, but the kindness, tenderness and concern she’d shown Katia, who had been all too aware that she was only a housekeeper’s daughter, had stuck with her.
“I would like to meet Sarah,” Katia told Mrs. Beabots. “We have a lot in common, both having lost our mothers.”
“Consider it done,” Mrs. Beabots assured her. “And I insist you move in with me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“It sounds lovely...” Katia hesitated.
Maddie nudged Katia with her elbow. “Trust me, there are no high-rises here. No doormen. There aren’t any complexes at all, if you remember. That much about Indian Lake hasn’t changed. The best apartments are in the houses along Maple Avenue. Mrs. Beabots’s is the prettiest and the biggest of all.”
Katia’s eyes widened. “How big?”
“Very,” Mrs. Beabots cut in. “Two bedrooms, large bath, living room and kitchenette. When Luke lived there, I usually cooked for him and the children. Then there are formal gardens in back for reading and contemplating. Lester MacDougal does all the yard work now. Except for the spring planting. I do most of that myself,” she said proudly. “I’d be happy to show it to you this afternoon.”
“I would love to see it.”
Mrs. Beabots clinked her glass against Katia’s. “You will find, my dear, that securing office rental in Indian Lake is child’s play. Residential housing is nearly impossible. You can walk six blocks, can’t you, dear?” Mrs. Beabots asked.
Katia grinned widely. She wasn’t sure if her mother was watching over her and putting all these puzzle pieces of her life together, but there was no question that today was fortuitous. This was so far beyond lucky that it frightened her.
Katia raised her glass and saluted Mrs. Beabots. In one fell swoop, she’d gotten a lead on an office space, a potential place to live and, she hoped, a wily but knowledgeable ally in her pursuit of Austin’s business. “Oh, I can walk it back and forth all day long,” Katia assured her.
“Well, then. Let me introduce you to our mayor, Blair Milo. She’s a few years younger than you are, dear, but she’s a real dynamo. She will show you the ropes around Indian Lake in a jiffy—the new ones, that is. You should join her on her Fitness Friday jogs.”
“The mayor runs?”
“She does it all over the state,” Maddie said, biting into a shrimp.
“I think I’m going to like Indian Lake,” Katia said.
“I certainly hope so.” Mrs. Beabots’s gaze drifted toward the empty hallway.
Katia knew Mrs. Beabots was thinking about Austin. She couldn’t help wondering just how much Mrs. Beabots knew about their teenage romance. Had Austin ever talked about her after she’d left Indian Lake, or had he kept his feelings to himself?
Apparently, everyone in town knew that Austin was a loner, and they accepted him for it. But he hadn’t been like that when she’d known him. Of course, they were just kids then, and their personalities hadn’t molded into who they were today.
As much as Mrs. Beabots, Liz and Maddie were enthusiastic about Katia’s move and welcoming her to the community, something unsettling continued to plague her.
That something, she knew, was sitting upstairs in the bedroom at the end of the hall.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_359e974f-0e5a-5da8-854e-d733eb3742fe)
AUSTIN FINISHED UP his call to Joe Collier in Phoenix. They had met at York Prep School and had been friends ever since. Joe was a venture capitalist and was constantly on the lookout for new start-ups. For the past fifteen years, Austin had spent the Christmas holidays with Joe and his wife, Vicki. Each time Austin visited, Joe would have a new company he’d be interested in, and he’d try to snare Austin into investing with him or flat-out buying it. Austin always declined the opportunity. It would take a gale-force wind to pry him out of Indian Lake.
Today, a storm had blown into his life, and its name was Katia.
Austin picked up his iPad and stared blankly at his apps, but all he saw was Katia’s beautiful face gazing back at him. He’d always thought she was pretty; even when they were kids and then teenagers, she was his dream girl. But the sight of the woman she’d grown into was a shock on about a dozen levels. He couldn’t remember what he’d said to her, or how he’d even managed to speak. All he’d felt was an overpowering rage that had threatened to burst out of him. If he’d remained downstairs and confronted her, there was no telling how far that rage would have taken him. He would never be physical, but he feared worse. He was afraid of what he would say to her.
Betrayal like hers was something no man could ever truly conquer. Wars were fought over women who’d wronged men. Austin had loved Katia with all his heart, and she’d left him.
Night after night, in the seventeen years and eight months since she’d left, he’d tried to make sense of it all and had come up dry. He’d never gotten past it. As far as he was concerned, she’d never given him a reason. She and her mother had simply moved away, without notice, on the very day that Katia was supposed to fly to New York for his senior prom.
He would never forget standing at LaGuardia, waiting excitedly with a bouquet of flowers. But Katia hadn’t walked off the plane. He’d waited for over half an hour. He’d gone to the ticket counter and asked if they were sure all the passengers had disembarked. The woman had assured him that the plane was not only cleared and cleaned, but ready for a new boarding. After that, he’d raced to a pay phone to call his mother.
Hanna had told him that Stephania had quit her job that morning. Apparently mother and daughter had been planning their departure, since their bags were already packed. They had walked out of the house and out of the McCrearys’ lives forever. His mother had railed on and on about their disloyalty, lamenting that she could never trust anyone on her payroll. Hanna had been clearly upset as she’d told him it was obvious that, to Stephania and Katia, the McCrearys had never been more than a paycheck.
Hanna had explained to Austin that he was lucky to find out what kind of person Katia was while he was still young, and not later, when he was “in too deep.” After all, he and Katia were just teenagers. Technically, they weren’t even dating. He’d asked Katia to his prom, that was all. “Yes, Mom,” he’d said, looking down at the wilting daisies. “It’s just a prom.”
Hanna had told him there would be many other girls in his future and when the right one came along, he would know it.
Austin had thrown Katia’s flowers in a nearby trash bin and walked out of LaGuardia determined never to give Katia Stanislaus another thought. He would wipe her out of his mind as easily as she’d erased him.
But Austin didn’t forget. What he remembered most was her uncanny ability to sense his moods. Wherever she was in the house or gardens, if he was upset or lonely, she always found him and knew exactly what to say to uplift him. She always put him first. Because he was obsessed with tennis, she urged him to teach her. She’d come close to beating him once too often.
It had always seemed to him that no matter what hobby, sport or academic interest he’d taken up and tried to excel in, Katia had been better. She’d gobbled up life as if she was at a banquet. She had twice the drive to succeed as he did, and she’d told him that she never wanted to settle for an ordinary life. Like her mother, she wanted the best of everything, but Stephania had never had the education to reach her goals. Katia believed that learning something new every day was the key to success.
When Katia had first moved into the mansion, he’d tried to wish her away, but his parents had needed Stephania. Because everyone else had been so busy with their lives and work, Austin had often got stuck with Katia, who’d followed him around like a shadow. She’d been an embarrassment to him for years. Then she’d become his friend. Then he’d wanted more than just friendship. When he’d been about to graduate from York and start his college life, he’d realized that he was in love with her. Austin had actually thought he would ask her to marry him, though they would have had to wait four years until he got his business degree. But that hadn’t mattered.
He’d gone to LaGuardia that day hoping that Katia was the kind of girl who would wait.
As he’d driven back to the school that evening, he’d had to hold his hand over his stomach. He’d felt gutted. And it had been Katia, the one person in the world he’d trusted, who’d struck the blow.
Now she was here in his home, rubbing shoulders with the council members. He didn’t know how she’d sneaked in without him noticing. Being the snake she was, she had probably learned how to slither, undetected, in and out of places, situations...and hearts.
It hadn’t been until his presentation was over that he had seen her. He’d recognized her instantly, of course, but he could barely believe she was here, in his house.
“Why are you here, Katia?” Austin growled at his bedroom walls. He snapped off his iPad and went to the window to stare out onto Maple Avenue.
His guests were leaving. One by one, all the cars and SUVs pulled away from the curb and drove off. He had no idea what they thought about the museum because he had not joined them for the buffet or spent time asking questions.
The bottom line was that Austin was certain that even if there was a dissenting voice, he would turn them around in time.
Focusing on the museum helped clear his mind a little. Over the past four years, he’d worked with the city and county planning commissions to obtain permits and allowances for the museum. Thanks to their guidance, he’d learned very quickly he could not build within the city limits. There would be too many problems with the parking and the placement of the entrance and exits.
Austin had been looking for years for a few acres to buy for his intended museum. He’d come across the ten acres of old cornfield by sheer luck while reading the announcements of sheriff’s sales in the newspaper. As it turned out, he was the only bidder on the property. It was too small to attract interest from local farmers or even the corporate farms that were buying up a great deal of the Midwest. This little patch of land had screamed out to Austin that it was meant to belong to him. It was exactly the size he needed, and the location was perfect. Austin hadn’t been able to write out the check fast enough.
Austin heard the front door close, then he heard Daisy’s voice shout up the stairs. “They’re gone now.”
Austin peered down at the sidewalk and saw Katia walking with Mrs. Beabots, Liz Crenshaw and Maddie Strong. He couldn’t be sure, but if he wasn’t mistaken, he also saw Cate Sullivan, the best Realtor in Indian Lake County, shake Katia’s hand before walking off.
Real estate? Why would Katia be talking to a Realtor?
Austin watched as the other women hugged each other, waved and went their separate ways. Katia stood with Mrs. Beabots for a moment, waving to Liz, who drove away in her old truck, and then the two women continued along Maple Avenue.
Where are you going, Katia?
He opened the window and stuck his head out so he could get a better view through the autumn trees. Katia was having a lively conversation with Mrs. Beabots, as if they were long-lost friends. What the...
Austin spun away from the window and raced out of his room and down the enormous staircase, past a gaping Daisy who was carrying a stack of dirty dishes to the kitchen. He whisked open the front door and rushed to the sidewalk.
They were easily six blocks away, but if Austin’s eyes were not deceiving him, Katia and Mrs. Beabots had just crossed Maple Avenue and were headed to Mrs. Beabots’s house. Scratching his head, he slowly pivoted and started back toward his home.
“She’s thinkin’ of movin’ in with the old lady,” Daisy said from the doorway. “Of course, if you’d had just an ounce of curiosity and chutzpah, you would have walked right up to her and asked.”
Austin glared at Daisy. There were times when Daisy’s bossiness was cute and almost welcome. But at this moment, as he struggled with painful memories, Daisy’s practical, take-charge pep talk was annoying. “So you recognized her?”
She shook her head. “I never saw her before today. But I know about her. You and your mom told me. After that reaction of yours, I figured it out for myself.” She put her hand on her hip. “As if I would call the cops. That’s your answer for everything. The trash man is late. There’s a Jehovah’s Witness at the door. The pool man didn’t show up. ‘Daisy, call the cops!’ If I had a nickel...”
He stuck his hands into his pants’ pockets. “I’m pretty predictable, aren’t I?”
“Down to the minute. I like that about you.” She smiled fondly.
“I just wish I knew what she was doing here. How did she get in? Did you see her come in?”
Daisy shrugged. “I didn’t see half of them. Once I opened the door, it seemed to be a steady stream of folks. I don’t know very many of them, except the mayor—I voted for her. Miss Crenshaw and Maddie. Katia seems to know them pretty well.”
“Really? They’re much younger than Katia. I doubt she would have known them from school. Do you think Katia has been friends with them long?”
“I couldn’t tell you, but they seemed awfully close, chatting during lunch and all.” She studied Austin. “Aren’t you curious where Katia’s been since she left?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “You bet I am. And that is the first question I’m going to ask her. Among a thousand—”
“Chicago.”
“What?”
“She’s been living in Chicago. At least until now. She’ll be living here in Indian Lake soon, so you can ask her all the questions you want.”
Austin was aghast. How was it possible that his housekeeper, who had never met Katia before today, already knew more about her than he did? Austin chided himself. Daisy was right. If he’d had the pluck to face Katia down, he would have found out all these things and possibly more. But he’d retreated; at least, that was what it would look like to Katia and the rest of the townspeople.
There goes Austin McCreary, slipping into his shell again.
For years, Austin had used his reputation as a recluse to serve his own purposes. Austin didn’t like people poking into his business or his personal life and asking a lot of questions he didn’t want to answer.
The underlying problem was that Austin himself didn’t have the one answer he needed. Had Katia ever loved him, and if she had, why would she have left?
Austin felt that his adult life had begun that day at LaGuardia. He’d been abandoned, and he’d felt adrift all this time. She’d left a dull ache in his heart that had never completely gone away. It was his pain that told him he’d found true love with Katia. She hadn’t been just a high school romance. What they’d had was real and he knew he’d never find it with anyone else.
He didn’t know how to respond to the simplest questions, the kind people ask at parties and gatherings, because they always brought back memories of Katia and the plans they’d made for a future together. “Are you married? Do you have children? How’s your business?”
Though he replied with platitudes, the true answers were troubling, even to him. “I’m not married. She left me. I don’t want children except with Katia, but I can’t forgive her for leaving me. I hate my business. Running my father’s company is boring and unfulfilling.”
In truth, Austin felt as if he was sleepwalking through his life. Being numb to his heartbreak was his only coping skill.
But today, Katia had come back. He had to give her credit. She didn’t slink around town, find a place to live, get a job or whatever it was she was here for and then let him find out she was in town. She’d rushed right in.
She’d come to his house and crashed his party. If he hadn’t gotten angry, he might have been able to question her and learn everything he wanted to know. Katia had grit, all right. She had enough for the two of them.
“So are you going to follow her and see where she went?” Daisy asked.
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“You could just cruise by Mrs. Beabots’s a bit slower than you usually do on your way to the plant,” Daisy suggested.
“The plant!” Austin checked his watch. “I’m due there in twenty minutes.”
“I know.” Daisy reached behind her and grabbed his car keys and his briefcase from the entry table. “I assume you’re taking the ’89 Corvette?”
“Why would you think that?” he asked.
“Because it’s the one you moved out of the carriage house and put in the driveway this morning,” Daisy replied in the assuaging tone she used to remind him that she was a better conscience than the one in his head.
“Oh, right.” He took the keys and briefcase. “I’ll be home at six as usual.”
“Dinner will be ready,” Daisy replied with a smile. “Steak and butternut squash.”
“Great.”
He went over to his black convertible, wondering if he should put the top up. If he saw Katia as he passed Mrs. Beabots’s house, would he want her to see him? Should he wave to her as if nothing had happened? Should he stop and talk to her? Maybe he should apologize about the calling-the-police thing. Was she deeply offended by that, or did she even care? He turned on the ignition and backed out of the drive. Daisy stepped back into the house and shut the front door.
Austin’s head was filled with so many questions he thought it would burst.
The heck with it. Probably best to let sleeping dogs...totally alone.
Austin drove down the block, turned left on Iris Avenue and decided to take another route to the plant.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_ab6a850f-c895-5b40-8b6b-10cc2e02d8a2)
PELTING RAIN NEARLY drowned out the sound of Jack’s voice. Katia sat across from him in his office, holding her cell phone on the off chance that Austin would return one of the half dozen calls she’d placed to him in the past twenty-one hours. The only number she had was his landline, which had been printed on a brochure she’d picked up at the museum presentation. Austin didn’t have voice mail, but Daisy always answered calls after the fifth ring, giving Austin time to pick up first. Katia had phoned him as she’d driven out of town the night before.
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Catherine Lanigan
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: The past is a risky place to visit As a top insurance agent in Chicago, Katia Stanislaus isn′t just used to pressure; she thrives on it. When she finds out her firm′s future is at stake, she′s the first to dream up a solution: relocate to Indian Lake and land the town′s reclusive millionaire as a client. Austin McCreary might be the sweetheart she left brokenhearted when they were teens, but she can′t let her feelings–or his–get in the way of her career. If she can just convince him to listen to her explanation, and her pitch, he′ll see this is the deal of a lifetime. But that would involve talking, and he won′t even take her calls! How ridiculous. Because this is strictly business…isn′t it?