Chad had just picked up the stationery order from the printer and was driving back to Anders Run with two boxes of beautiful, professionally done, legitimizing paperwork emblazoned with the new Building Tomorrow logo and information.
Brochures and pamphlets and cards, not a typo anywhere. Cynthia had freaked out for nothing.
Thank goodness he’d happened by that night. She was killing herself for this job. His job.
And when she needed support, there he was, burdening her with the complication of a relationship she hadn’t asked for and didn’t know what to do with.
Not that he had any idea himself. He didn’t do relationships. He had fun. He had sex. He’d never had a friendship with a woman before, not when there was this underlying heat and promise.
He didn’t know why he’d kissed her that night. He didn’t know why she’d kissed him. And most importantly, he didn’t know what to do about it now. Again, by tacit agreement, neither of them had mentioned it.
She didn’t want to talk about it, so he didn’t talk about it. He wouldn’t waste any more time thinking about it then, either. He forced his mind onto the fundraiser. Despite the loss of DeeDee and the walking half of Maddie, Cynthia was pulling it together.
Building Tomorrow would launch with a huge splash and Grandpa’s money would finally be out in the world, away from him. He was so proud! Maybe it didn’t matter to Eric, but it did to him. This was all the struggles of their childhood, wrapped up into something good, something that would help other kids like they’d once been or women like their mom, exhausted but unable to rest.
The Anders blood that Chad despised, the Anders money that came too late, was now clean and ready to create something new, fresh and good.
He pulled into the driveway and as the truck rocked to a stop, he heard a sound he couldn’t identify, a sort of thump. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and caught the briefest flash of movement.
Oh no. Had run over some creature?
He jumped out and walked around the truck, bending to look under, then straightened to check out the yard. There was nothing, no injured animal, no footprints, no blood, nothing.
He rubbed his face. Great. He was starting to see things now. He couldn’t wait until this benefit was finally over. He needed some sleep.
With less than forty-eight hours before the Fixer-Upper Dance, Cynthia was finally allowing herself to feel the first rush of relief. She surveyed her white board, her hands on her hips. DMC Solutions was fulfilling its obligation, satisfying the client in a very challenging business climate, as promised.
She should be celebrating.
The graphic design portion was done, finito. Despite her panic, the printing had come out perfectly. The package was complete, the website was launched and Building Tomorrow had a well-branded, professional face to present to the world.
There were still some last minute items to take care of for the dance, however, but it was going to be okay. She’d pulled it off.
But despite this, tears kept clawing at the back of her throat.
She and Chad had spoken several times since the night he’d caught her crying among the straw bales. But again, it was as if the kisses they’d shared had been in her imagination only. He was as polite, as sunny, as handsome and devastating and loveable as ever, but he hadn’t so much as touched her, let alone kissed her again or even mentioned the fact that something had happened between them that night.
Because for him, she realized, it hadn’t.
Whatever she’d felt wasn’t real.
And Chad had been wrong about the cat, too. All his sweet comforting, convincing her that the little guy would show up, helping her name him, none of it changed the fact that the animal was gone. She’d looked all over the barn for him, left plates of food out, sat up late into the night but he hadn’t appeared. She heard nothing. And she refused to call him Fred.
Naming him at this point would only make it worse.
The one thing that gave her hope was that she’d found no body, either.
Cats disappeared sometimes. And sometimes they returned, no worse for wear. They were mysterious creatures. It was premature to worry.
He hadn’t even been hers, not really.
The thought brought fresh tears to her eyes.
She just wanted something of her own to love. Was that so difficult?
Maddie twirled into Cynthia’s bedroom, if one could be said to twirl while wearing a walking boot.
“How do I look?” she asked. “I was going to wear this to the dance but now I’m not sure.”
It was a halter top dress, modest in the front, but completely open at the back. The kind of thing someone like Maddie could pull off without a second thought.
“You look wonderful,” she said honestly.
“Liar.” Maddie’s face fell. She slumped onto the bed. “It’s completely wasted on me. I can’t dance. I can barely walk. A halter dress? With crutches? I ought to just wear a muumuu and give up entirely.”
“I’m sure you’ll have men falling all over themselves to help you. If anything, you’ll have more attention than usual.”
Maddie could cut her hair with a chain saw, apply her make-up with a garden trowel, pair the walking boot with a feed sack and she’d still be the most compelling woman in the room.
“No need to be jealous. If you tried, you’d get just as much attention.” Maddie flopped back, flinging an arm over her face. “At least DeeDee’s not here. I mean, I miss her, but have you seen the pictures? She’s a goddess.”
For the first time, it occurred to Cynthia that her stepsister might have insecurities of her own.
“So are you, so quit feeling sorry for yourself,” she told Maddie. “Enjoy the dress.”
“It would be a fashion travesty.” Maddie opened her eyes. “What are you going to wear?”
Cynthia reached into her closet and pulled out a simple sheath dress that brought out the color of her eyes.
“Ugh. Have I taught you nothing?”
“I love this dress.” Cynthia looked at it in the mirror. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing. If you’re going to a board meeting. This is a dance, honey.”
“I won’t be dancing. I’ll be too busy.”
“No, I won’t be dancing. You must dance for both of us.”
Cynthia shoved the offending garment back onto the rod. “I don’t think so. You know what I look like on the dance floor. Besides, who’ll look after the caterers, the sound technician, the serving staff-”
“I broke my ankle, not my brain. I’m not as useless as everyone seems to think I am.”
“I never said-”
Maddie clambered awkwardly off the bed, stood in front of the mirror and undid the halter top, letting the dress fall into a puddle at her feet.
She turned and stepped out of it, completely comfortable with her stepsister seeing her bare breasted.
“I know what I am, and what I’m not. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you are. So it’s time someone helped you find out. Pick up the dress, Cindy.” She grinned. “You’re going to wear it, not me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Cynthia gathered it up from the floor and pushed it at Maddie.
“It’s not my style.”
“Try it on, at least.”
“I cuh-couldn’t...”
But Cynthia fingered the shimmering fabric, let it slip through her fingers, imagining what she might look like if she actually did wear such a thing.
“Clothes make the man,” said Maddie. “Or in this case the woman. I guarantee that you’ll get all the attention you want if you wear that. With your hair and your eyes, you’ll be the belle of the ball.”
“Don’t be s-s-silly.”
“It’s only right, after all.” Maddie’s voice softened. “This event is yours as much as it is Chad’s. You deserve to shine. Be proud of your work, Cynthia. Be proud of yourself. You can own this night if you want to.”
“Oh, Maddie.” Her throat tightened as she noticed the brightness in her stepsister’s eyes. She didn’t know what surprised her more, the recognition of her efforts, or Maddie’s unexpected self-awareness. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“What a load.” Maddie’s voice wobbled. “But it’s nice of you to say.”
Cynthia held the dress up against herself in the mirror. She couldn’t actually wear it, of course. If Chad saw her in that, he’d know instantly that she was the naked girl he’d seen scrambling around a corner, trying not to puke on the hotel carpets. He’d know that the girl of his dreams was nothing but a mirage, someone conjured out of thin air in a moment of madness. Someone who didn’t exist.
But it was nice to imagine, nevertheless.
“I’ll find something,” she said, handing the dress back. “But thank you. I appreciate the offer more than you know.”
“You’re so stubborn.” Maddie stuck her head out the door, still half-naked. “Mom! Come help me convince Cindy to wear my dress.”