“THAT’S NOT A GOOD IDEA,” Julia said. “I’ve only been to Daddy’s office twice my whole life.”
“Oh, come on,” Marin said. “If he’s busy, he’s busy.”
After a brief knock on the trailer door, Marin stepped inside. With slide-out sections in both the front and rear, the trailer was roomier than she’d expected. The reception area, housing his assistant’s desk, several file cabinets, a couple of chairs, and various pieces of office equipment, like copiers and fax machines, was empty.
“Adam?” she called. “You here?”
“Maybe he’s in his office,” Julia said. “Down the hall.”
Marin moved tentatively through the small kitchen, past the bathroom and into his office. No Adam. But her curiosity was piqued. Offices often said so much about the person who occupied the space.
His large, wraparound desk was strewn with papers and files, not to mention architectural designs, floor plans and other types of schematics. A half-full cup of coffee sat next to his keyboard, and a light layer of dust clung to several flat surfaces. An organized neat freak he was not. Two framed photos sat on his desk next to his computer screen. The first was Julia standing beside a bike. She couldn’t have been more than five. The photo of Wyatt, at about the age of two, appeared to be from approximately the same time period. The man clearly needed updated photos.
Just then the front door to the trailer opened and Phyllis came inside. She caught Marin’s movements and glanced down the hall. “Can I help you guys?”
“We’re looking for Adam.” Marin walked toward the front.
“He’s down on Main Street, and I’m sorry but you’re not allowed in the construction zone.” She smiled at the kids. “If it’s an emergency, though, I can contact him on his radio.”
“No. No emergency. We’ll catch him some other time.” She led the kids outside. “Maybe some other da—”
“Daddy!” Wyatt yelled, and, slipping under the construction tape, raced down the street.
Wearing a hard hat and speaking into his cell phone, a clipboard of paperwork under one arm, Adam walked from the main part of town toward his trailer. He looked up the moment he heard Wyatt’s voice and frowned.
“See,” Julia said, her voice resigned. “I told you we shouldn’t have come down here.”
“Wyatt, wait!” Marin called. “Your dad’s on a call, and you’re not supposed to be back there.”
Wyatt pulled up just short of his father.
“No. No, that won’t work,” Adam spoke calmly into his phone. “I need those orders here tonight. If you have to charge me for a rush shipment, then fine, but my masons are sitting around twiddling their thumbs.” He glanced at his kids, and then Marin. “Whatever you have to do, do it.” Adam hung up his phone and directed Wyatt out of the construction zone. “No crossing the tape, Wyatt. Got it?”
“Sorry about that,” Marin said, feeling very aware of him. There was something about that hard hat, coupled with Adam’s lean, muscular frame that was, surprisingly, doing it for her.
“It’s okay,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“We’re doing fine, aren’t we kids?”
“We just came down to play at the park, Daddy,” Julia explained as if she was worried he might be upset.
“It’s all right, honey. Don’t worry.”
“So where can we find some lunch around here?”
“There’s the Mirabelle Island Inn. A good walk that way.” He pointed east. “Rock Pointe Lodge.” Then he pointed in the opposite direction. “And just a couple blocks away is Romeo’s. Pizza and pasta.”
“Pizza!” Wyatt said.
“Sound okay to you, Julia?”
The little girl nodded.
“Adam, can you join us?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head and smiled at his kids. “I’ve got a conference call in ten minutes. Maybe some other day.”
But Marin had the distinct impression that other day never managed to come around. Maybe these kids deserved better from their dad, too. “Okay, let’s go.” She took the kids’ hands.
“Marin?” he called.
She was starting to love the way he said her name, his accent causing a sexy blurring of the last syllable. She turned, hoping he’d changed his mind.
“Stay away from the fencing, okay? We’ve surrounded the perimeter of the construction zone to keep people out of the dangerous areas.”
“Will do.”
ADAM’S HEART SANK AS HE watched Marin walk away holding hands with his kids. He could’ve taken a half hour away from the job. He had to eat, didn’t he?
This was one of the reasons he didn’t want Julia and Wyatt coming to his job sites. Safety wasn’t the only concern. The distraction of the overwhelming emotions he felt every time he looked into their innocent faces was what, more than anything, had prompted the rule.
Guilt, sorrow and anxiety thrown together with intense feelings of love, protectiveness and pride, and Adam would get so confused he couldn’t work. He couldn’t make sense of anything he was feeling. All he knew was that it hurt to be near them. It hurt to look into their big, sweet eyes and see Beth.
“Adam?” Phyllis called from the door to the trailer. “I’ve got the lumber supply company on the phone. They say they need to talk to you now for clarification on an order.”
His feet didn’t want to move. He couldn’t believe Marin had asked him out to dinner. The thought came out of thin air. That had never happened to him before and he was still a bit shocked. The idea of a private, romantic meal with a woman was such a foreign concept, he simply couldn’t imagine— “Adam?”
He turned, took the phone from his assistant’s hand. Kids and work. That was his life. “Harding, here.” What was this about again? Oh, yeah. “Which order number is the problem…”
MY HEAVENS, but Missy has her hands full with these two.
Very gently, Angelica laid Nathan down in his crib. She softly caressed his stomach for a moment, covered him with a light blanket and tiptoed out of the room, being careful not to wake the already sleeping Michael.
Both of them down for a nap at the same time. She smiled. Now to put her feet up for a little while and relax. She’d no sooner hit the last step on the way to the family room than her cell phone rang from in the kitchen. Wanting to make sure the sound didn’t wake her grandsons, she ran to pick up the phone. As soon as she saw Arthur’s name on the display, her heart raced with uncertainty.
Had she acted too hastily in leaving D.C.? She and Art had been married more than thirty years. That was a damned lot of history to toss away. What if her choice took her from the frying pan into the fire?
No. She couldn’t let fear immobilize her. She’d spent the past several years gathering the gumption to do this. Now was her time. Her time. If Arthur wasn’t going to jump on her bandwagon, he was going to have to jump out of her way.
Determinedly she answered the call. “Hello, Arthur.”
There was a moment of silence, as if he hadn’t expected her to pick up. “How are you, Angie? The girls?” His voice sounded mild, nothing like the booming, powerful tone he used in campaign speeches or in interviews with the press.
“We’re all fine.”
“You settled in there okay?”
What was he up to with this uncharacteristic concern? Trying to catch her off her guard, more than likely. Well, it wasn’t going to work. Not this time. “Why did you call?”
“I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here. This was all rather…sudden, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t think so. I think this is an entirely expected result of the conversation we had just before I left.”
“But I thought you were going to think this over again…this job business.”
“You weren’t listening, Arthur. I said I wasn’t certain if this was the right job and would be taking some time to think it over, but I am certain that I want a job.”
“So that’s it? You went to see a divorce attorney over a job?”
“In a nutshell.”
Her marriage had come to a crossroads over her wanting a job. It wasn’t a big important job and it didn’t pay much, but that wasn’t the point. She’d have something to do that she was sure she would enjoy. She’d have coworkers. Responsibilities. She’d have her own office. The thought was equally exciting and terrifying.
“Come home, Angie. We’ll work this out. You gallivanting off like this is plain silly.”
“It’s exactly because you think it’s silly that I’m ready to divorce you.”
“If I have to I’ll come to Mirabelle to talk some sense into you.”
“Don’t you dare come here, Art. I need time away from you to think. You stay in D.C. and you wait.”
“Do you have a clue the strings I’ve had to pull to keep this quiet? Do you know what the press would do with a little tidbit like you going to see a divorce attorney?”
She knew very well, had pulled a few strings herself in days gone by with regard to their children’s mishaps in their teenage years and early adult lives, but, for once in her life, she didn’t care. “You’re not pushing this under the rug for me, Arthur. It’s for you.”
“Angie, please,” he said softly. “Don’t do this—”
“Stop it!” He didn’t do it on purpose. He wasn’t a bad man. But he knew exactly what to say and how to say it to get her to cave in, to give him what he wanted. It wasn’t his fault. It was hers. She needed to hold firm.
“Listen to me, Arthur, and listen well. I am not going to give in this time. I gave you—our children, our family—my youth. I supported you in your career every step of the way. Don’t get me wrong, I have no regrets.” Every step of the way, she’d chosen her own path. She’d never been coerced, or guilted into setting aside a career for her family, and she would not be coerced now. “But I am all done living for you.”