Julia Patterson put her suitcases in a precise alignment in the front hall and, through the narrow window, eyed the trickles of rain dripping down the pane of glass. San Antonio, Texas might suffer droughts but when it rained it most definitely poured.
Damn.
She hated flying to begin with. Now she worried the flight would be delayed taking off, or worse, they’d run into bad weather en route. Well, nothing to be done for it. She had to make the trip. The anticipated contract was too lucrative to pass up, and her partner in Bright Ideas was tied up on another project.
For the tenth time, she looked at herself in the powder room mirror. Navy slacks sharply creased. Check. Tweed jacket hitting the hips at the perfect spot. Check. White silk turtleneck draped just so. Check. Even the gold hoops at her ears hung in symmetry. If there was one thing she’d learned from Charles, it was to be precise and exact. “Details, Julia,” he repeated ad nauseam. “In our circles it’s the details that count.” Sometimes she felt as if her entire life was a series of checklists.
Charles. His name sent a tiny shiver the length of her spine. One more stroke of a pen and she’d be rid of him altogether. These weeks of torturous haggling and draining telephone calls were coming to an end and his methodical, dictatorial presence in her life would finally be finished. She and the twins, seven-year-old Andy and Beth, could finally move ahead. Luckily, though sadly, Charles had never made himself an integral part of their lives.
There was just today to get through and Thanksgiving, three days from now. The reminder made her stomach cramp. That damn dinner. She was irritated to have it hanging over her. In a moment of total insanity, she’d agreed Thanksgiving would be here at the house. Her house, now. Or almost. The dinner from hell with Howard and Elise Patterson, Charles’s parents who made ice cubes look hot, and his sister Evelyn, her husband Mark and their ten-year-old daughter. If Charles was bad, the rest of the Pattersons were worse.
“We have to be civilized about this, Julia.” Charles had delivered the pronouncement in his usual clipped voice, still focused on the holiday. “Until you come to your senses.”
“I have come to my senses,” she’d insisted, forcing herself to be calm. She couldn’t let him bait her the way he always did. “Dinner. Fine. Nothing more.”
“It’s the least you can do,” Charles had argued. “You’re the one who insisted on this ridiculous divorce. Don’t you think you owe something to me? To my family?”
How about a hit man?
His voice gave her the same feeling of discomfort as a hangnail. Too bad she couldn’t just clip him away.
Shaking off the anger always lurking beneath the surface, she turned into the kitchen. Miranda Black, her indispensable housekeeper, stood at the counter, making notes on a pad of paper. The woman had arrived a week after the twins were born, agency reference in one hand, suitcase in the other, and she’d been there ever since.
At first Julia had been so grateful, pleased that Charles was thoughtful enough to get her help. Still stunned that a man like Charles from such a rarified privileged environment wanted her. But then the charming prince who’d swept her off her feet turned into a frog. No, a dragon. It was unfortunate she’d gotten pregnant in only the second year of their marriage but he had no intention of letting children upset his life. It was time now for her to involve herself in appropriate community and social activities. Perform in a way demanded by his position in the community.
All Julia had wanted was a stable home and family environment. Her own certainly hadn’t fit that bill. Secretly she’d been happy to be living far away from her dysfunctional parents and hadn’t argued when little by little Charles cut them out of her life. With Charles she’d been so sure she had her dream, the chance to create a secure family environment. Instead, the courtship, wedding, and honeymoon now seemed as if they’d belonged to someone else. She was left with the villain of the piece.
Without Miranda, she wasn’t sure how she’d have survived. She was more family than employee, an anchor in the turbulence of her life.
“I’d like to check the lists again.” Julia reached for the pad of paper.
Miranda grinned. “Julia, you’ve checked them five times today already. I have everything on there for tomorrow’s grocery shopping and everything to prepare on Wednesday. This won’t be the first holiday dinner I’ve helped you put together. Let your mind rest, okay?”
But they both knew Julia’s mind seldom rested.
She inhaled slowly to center herself. By tonight, she’d be in Boston. Tomorrow she’d be making a key marketing presentation to Hot Ticket, a major sports apparel company, on the proposed plan for their new line. This was the largest bid yet by Bright Ideas. She and Claire worked hard for opportunities like this. As important as this meeting was, she didn’t want to leave anything behind because she’d been careless.
What a rage Charles had been in when she’d opened the agency with Claire. But she was no longer the vulnerable young college student swept off her feet by the handsome and privileged prince. It still shocked her to realize he’d married her for that very vulnerability, assuming he could mold her into the wife he expected her to be. She’d certainly tried, despite the fact she began to hate every minute of it. But somewhere along the line, trying to be someone she wasn’t, she’d lost herself completely.
Until her friend Claire Westbrook had quite literally dragged her into the partnership.
Somewhere she’d found the strength to deal with Charles and defy him. She was sick and tired, at last, of being little more than his puppet. And angry with herself for allowing it to happen. Even his threats to use his influence to damage the agency, destroy its reputation, hadn’t stopped her. Its growing success only angered him more.
And now she was moving on with the rest of her life. Each day was still a struggle but she was getting there, slowly but steadily. If he would just sign the damn papers. She wanted to avoid a three-ring circus in court, if possible. Meanwhile she had to focus on her trip. This account would be a launching pad for Bright Ideas, solidify them, so she had to nail it down.
Yesterday, going over everything one more time in the office, Claire had been full of encouragement. “You’ll nail it. I have every confidence in you.”
“You have to say that. You’re my friend.” And one she gave thanks for every single day.
“Have you seen my briefcase and computer?” Julia asked Miranda now, mentally running down her last minute checklist.
“Right by the back door with your luggage. I wanted to make sure you had your things together.”
“Oh, thank God.” She exhaled in relief. “The car service will be here any minute. It’s starting to rain and you know what San Antonio traffic is like in bad weather. This whole area is subject to flash floods. Besides, I want to get to the airport before the weather closes in.”
“Not to worry.” Miranda smiled at her. “You’re all set.”
Julia gave her an impulsive hug. “Whatever would I do without you?” She stepped back, grinning. “And don’t let me find out. The twins are in the family room?” Miranda nodded. “I’ll just say goodbye one more time.”
Andy and Beth were planted in front of the television, staring with rapt attention at a cartoon.
“Hey, kiddos.” Julia crouched down to their level. “You guys be good for Miranda, okay?”
“Will you be home tomorrow?” Beth asked, sliding her gaze away from the set.
“Not tomorrow, but the day after, and then we’ll have fun making Thanksgiving dinner. Okay?”
“Me, too?” Andy wasn’t going to be left out, but his eyes remained glued to his program.
“You, too, sweetie. Now both of you give me a big hug and a kiss.”
The tap of a horn outside drew her to the door.
“Damn,” she muttered. The familiar knot of tension settled into place in her stomach. Of course he’d show up, try to throw her off her game, aware she didn’t want to deal with him today. “How the hell did this happen?”
Rather than the dark sedan the car service used, Charles’s grey Lincoln sat impatiently in the driveway. In a moment, he got out of the car, slammed the door, and stomped up to the front porch.
Julia pulled the door open. “What are you doing here? I’m leaving in a few minutes. The car service is due any time.”
“I canceled them. It’s raining. I came to talk you out of this ridiculous trip with bad weather closing in, and discuss ending this sham of a divorce.”
Not today. Please not today. She would not let him get to her. Cause her to fall apart.
“I can’t believe you took this on yourself to do,” she told him. “It’s too late to call them back. I’ll have to make other arrangements. Damn.”
“I forbid you to go.”
Flat, cold words, as if what he said was law. For a moment the uncertainty she fought every day flared inside her but she tamped it down.
“Charles.” She curled her hands into fists. “I’m going. You no longer have the right to tell me what I can and can’t do. And there is nothing to discuss about the divorce except when you’re finally going to sign those papers.” She turned to go into the kitchen. “Never mind. I’ll see if Claire can take me.”
“Julia.” He used a tone of controlled patience, one she’d grown to hate so desperately. “You are the most irritating woman. Fine. If you insist on going despite everything, I’ll take you. But I think it’s ridiculous to take chances when we have dinner coming up on Thursday.”
Yes, of course. Dinner was the most important thing.
At that moment, the twins rushed into the foyer from the family room. At the sight of their father, however, they stopped so suddenly they bumped into each other. Smiles faded from their faces, replaced by looks of uncertainty.
“Julia.” Charles stood in his perfectly tailored black suit and midnight blue topcoat, not a crease in sight, not a wrinkle, not a smudge. Everything was as perfect as the day it came from the tailor. His mouth was set in a thin line as he observed the children, staring at him. “Must they run around the house like common animals?”
“They’re just being children, Charles.” She ground her teeth. “I should think you’d be glad to see them.”
Charles’s cold attitude where the twins were concerned bothered the hell out of her, but now was not the time to begin an argument, one she had no chance of winning. She’d discovered the hard way in the Patterson family, expressions of emotion were strictly forbidden. No wonder he’d grown up to be the way he was.
Miranda, eyeing the situation, gathered the twins and ushered them into the kitchen, soothing and distracting them.
“Are you ready?” A muscle jumped in Charles’s cheek. “I’d like to get going. It’s raining and the traffic will be a mess.”
“Yes, I am.” Julia picked up her purse, briefcase, computer, and warm duffel coat. The weather report for Boston was snow, snow, and more snow. “If you’ll get the suitcase, we can leave.”
She hurried to the car and buckled herself into the passenger seat. A dull ache began to build behind her eyes, the result of the tension always in the air between them. Leaning her head back, she prayed for a moment of quiet peace. Raindrops spattered against the windshield, a waterfall parted by the regular motion of the windshield wipers. A good representation of her life, a curtain falling, parting momentarily, then dropping back in place like a shroud.
She felt the anger vibrating from Charles as he navigated the wet streets and traffic. In the nearly ten years of their marriage, he’d become steadily more dictatorial, more autocratic, more controlling. Vulnerable and insecure, she’d allowed it for far too long, losing herself until she no longer had an identity of her own. She’d finally found the courage to break away, but things turned as nasty as she’d expected.
Telling Charles she was divorcing him had been her most difficult task yet. Worse, because he’d fought her at every turn, assuming as an attorney he’d hold the upper hand and emerge the victor. Lucky for her, Claire had found her a shark who could draw blood.
“Once more, Julia, you have made an irresponsible decision.” Charles’s words interrupted her thoughts now, tiny pin pricks bringing her back to the present. “I don’t know why you have to go away during this particular week. You know my parents have very definite ideas about Thanksgiving dinner.”
Yes, she certainly did. More than she wanted to. She should have just told him they could have it at their house but it was one more argument she hadn’t wanted at the time.
“Charles, I’ll be back Wednesday afternoon.” She forced herself to bite back her automatic retort. “Miranda is doing the grocery shopping, she’ll have the table set by Wednesday night and everything ready for me to finish cooking Thursday morning. I’m only doing this for the children anyway, so don’t push me or there won’t be any dinner at all.”
“May I remind you of the generous monthly stipend your attorney screwed me out of? There are certain conditions for you to continue receiving it.”
“As if I could stop you,” she snapped.
“My parents like to eat Thanksgiving dinner at three,” he reminded her. “It’s a tradition. Nothing should disrupt that.”
“God forbid we should ever break with tradition,” Julia muttered under her breath.
“What did you say?” Charles cast a sideways glance at her.
“I said don’t worry, I’d never break with tradition. Dinner will be on the table exactly at three.”
Charles made no comment, his attention at the moment riveted on steering through the traffic with precise moves. “I don’t know why Claire couldn’t have gone instead.” A note of petulance tinged his words.
“Claire is doing the Thanksgiving Festival starting Friday, as you well know.” Julia was irritated. This wasn’t the first argument they’d had about this. “They have no children. This way I can spend the long weekend with the twins.”
“I’d rather you didn’t work at all and stayed home where you belong.”
“I will not have this discussion with you again at this particular moment.” She fisted her hands to hold her temper in check. “Your choices are no longer a factor in my life. I’m sick of the whole thing.”
“No more than I am. Julia, I’m tired of waiting for you to come to your senses and call off this ridiculous divorce activity.”
Slap, slap, slap. The windshield wipers were a metronome keeping time to the throbbing in her head.
“It’s not ridiculous, and it’s almost final.”
“Almost being the key word.”
“Charles…” Oh, God, why wouldn’t he shut up?
“Never mind.” Charles’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You were right. This is neither the time nor place to discuss this. But trust me, we will be talking about this when you get back.”
“I can hardly wait,” she muttered and moved as close to the door as her seat belt would allow.
They sat in silence the rest of the way to the airport. Charles let her out at the Departures entrance, and confirmed her return time and flight with her.
“I’ll pick you up.” It was as much an order as an announcement. Would she never have space to breathe with this man?
“Why do you do this?” she asked. “It’s over, Charles. Over. I don’t want you hovering and caging me in. I’ll take the airport limo home. Or arrange for the car service.”
A muscle jumped wildly in his cheek. “Any moment now you will come to your senses and stop this ridiculous charade. I may not be able to sleep in my own bed for the moment, but it is my responsibility to make sure you arrive home safely. We have dinner planned for Thursday.”
Ah, yes. The dinner again. It would be a damned shame if she killed herself before the obligatory holiday meal.
Tired of the argument, she simply nodded and slammed the door.
Charles pulled quickly away from the curb, water spraying out in a rooster tail from beneath the wheels. The only thing more drenched than the pavement was her heart.