Christmas To Remember Page 4

  Angel lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “About five minutes ago. I would’ve been here sooner, but Mr. Johnson was driving his tractor and hay wagon through the four-way. He still has to prove to everybody that he’s farming, huh?”

  She nodded. “Says he’s the only real farmer left in town and not one of the weekenders. I think hauling a load through town on a Wednesday afternoon is his way of proving it.” She got down to business. “I’ve called and called. Why haven’t you returned any of my messages?”

  “I’ve been celebrating.”

  One look told Marley that was a lie, but she didn’t press it. She smoothed her friend’s straight, white-blond hair back from her face. It hung midway down Angel’s back in one of those styles most women would kill to have because it looked so fabulous. If she wasn’t such a good friend and person, Marley might have been jealous of Angelique like a lot of other girls in school. But she was a good person and Marley had seen firsthand how Angel’s appearance had caused her more problems over the years than joy.

  “He’s crazy, Angel. You didn’t deserve what Damon did to you. No one does. How are things, any better?”

  “I got the car and a huge settlement, plus court costs and a tidy sum of alimony.” She smirked. “Seeing his face when the judge handed that decision down eased the pain considerably, and since he’d publicly declared on numerous occasions he didn’t want me working, the judge says he has to keep me in the manner to which I’ve grown accustomed.” She tilted her head to the side, her two-carat diamond studs flashing in the sunshine streaming through the window. “But let’s talk about this place. Your decorating skills suck. Where’s the bling?” Angel surveyed the office with a grimace.

  Marley dropped her hands to her hips. “Hey, you complain and you get put in charge of fixing the problem yourself. Go for it.”

  “I just might,” Angel mused. “But first—who were you talking to when I came in?”

  “Uh, no one?”

  “Payback for not returning those calls?”

  Marley groaned. “It’s a long story.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve got nothing but time now.”

  She glanced at her watch in relief. “You might, but I don’t. Rain check for later? I’ve got a two o’clock I’ve got to get to, but before I go—You rooming with me?”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I accept.” Angel made a face. “But I would like to lie low for a while. Could you not say anything about seeing me just yet?”

  “Done.” Marley grabbed a file from her desk. “Now I have to run.”

  “Haven’t you become quite the little business-woman,” Angel drawled, watching Marley search for her keys, calendar and product books. “What do the high-and-mighty people of South Ridge say now that their fallen princess is listed in the Yellow Pages?”

  Marley snorted and kept hunting. “Let’s just say I think a few of them get off on seeing me on my knees in their front yards.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah…” Marley shrugged and tried to pretend her pride wasn’t dented. “But so long as they pay me and I can pay my bills, who cares, right? What about you? Any idea what you want to do now that you can join the dregs of the working class again?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “You could always resurrect Delilah Kane.”

  Surprise crossed Angel’s face. “I haven’t thought about my on-air alter ego in ages.”

  “Really? Well, maybe it’s time to bring her to life again. Think about it—Delilah’s gotten better and smarter with age and come into her own.” She found what she needed and gave Angel a smile. “She could really give her listeners an earful now, especially about the problems that come from marrying her boss. And,” Marley stressed, “I did just hear that due to a nasty divorce the radio station’s owner is looking to sell. Sounds a little desperate, too, since the price has dropped a couple times.”

  Angel shook her head, but her expression said she was more than a little interested in the news.

  Marley’s hand tightened over her keys. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Angel tried to smile, but the effort proved too much. Tears glistened her eyes and the moment their gazes met, her casual facade crumpled. “I don’t cry over men.” Despite her words, the tears overflowed. “I mean, how stupid—I’m fine, I—I just—” She tilted her head back and inhaled raggedly. “Why didn’t I use Delilah’s brain and tell him what he could do with his marriage proposal? He played me, Marley, and I let him do it.”

  “It happens to all of us, but things will get better.”

  Angel rolled her eyes. “How bad has the gossip been? Be honest.”

  Unwilling to lie, she grimaced. “You know how the old biddies are. Once they heard, they brought up everything you ever did from birth to the day you left and made up what you did after moving to Chicago, but coming back just means you’ll show them what kind of woman you’ve turned out to be.”

  Angel nodded firmly. “I will show them. Because I’m fine. Really.”

  Uh-huh. Angel was about as fine as Marley was with the news that Beau was back in town. “You know what, let me make a phone call. I can cancel my two o’clock.”

  “No, absolutely not. I’m not doing this now. You don’t have time for me to go off about Damon. Certainly not surrounded by all this—What is this stuff anyway?”

  “Mostly dirt—and a few early Christmas arrivals for the shop.”

  “Dirt?” Angel laughed, her voice thick. “See what I mean? What a waste. Women with stories like ours need chocolate, a bubble bath and a man—and not in that order.”

  Marley blinked up at her friend in surprise. “You’re still in the market after everything that happened?” She wasn’t. After Beau had wrecked her life, the last thing she ever wanted was to find herself taken in by a man’s lies again.

  “Let’s just say I’ve gotta get back on the horse and bite the hand that bit me and all that.”

  Once again the door to the outer showroom opened, the bell tinkling loudly. Two seconds later footsteps entered, the tread too heavy to belong to Amy.

  “It’s the hand that fed you, not bit you.”

  “Whatever.”

  She laughed. “Stay here, and don’t bite anything. I’ll get rid of whoever it is.”

  “Too late,” her brother muttered from the doorway. “Marley, do you—Angelique?”

  Keeping her back to him, Angel fluttered her fingers in a sardonic wave and blinked furiously in an effort to get herself under control before Clay saw her tears.

  Marley stepped forward and placed herself between them, deciding that she had to set up a barrier in her showroom, something that would slow visitors down and give her a chance to head them off before they made it into her office if Eli or Amy weren’t around. “Did you need something?”

  Ignoring her completely, Clay stepped around her, not stopping until he stood in front of Angel.

  “You mean to tell me that’s your car out—What the—” He grasped Angel’s arm when she tried to move away. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Angel wiped her eyes with her long, perfectly manicured fingers and smiled. “Nothing. The Roadster has a scratch,” she drawled. “You know how us shallow gold diggers are. We can’t stand it when our toys are damaged.” She pulled her arm out of his grip.

  “Angelique—”

  Angel turned on her spiked heels and walked her model’s walk to the door. “Later, Lucy.”

  “Where’s she going?” Clay demanded as the bell sounded again, indicating Angel’s exit. “Why was she crying?”

  Marley crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do you care?”

  He muttered an obscenity that would’ve sent their mother to bed for days. “What’s going on, Mar?”

  Fed up with her day, she gave Clay her best all-men-are-idiots glare. “Sorry, can’t help you. You want to know something—ask her yourself.”

  “She won’t
talk to me.”

  “Gee, wonder why?” she asked, layering the sarcasm on thick. There were times when her brother ranked right up there with Beau Buchanan. “Did you need something?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  She raised her eyebrows to prod him on. “But?”

  “I came to get flowers.”

  Didn’t that just figure? He’d come to buy flowers for someone else, and yet after seeing Angel, he couldn’t focus for wanting to know all about her.

  Marley added her brother to her rapidly growing list of Things That Suck. “I don’t do rose bouquets in pretty paper, which you should know. Just because I’m a woman in a male-oriented business doesn’t mean—”

  “I know, I know—I forgot.” His gaze narrowed. “What’s with you?”

  Choking on the angry speech about how all guys were jerks, Marley shoved her hair off her forehead. “Nothing.”

  “It’s obviously something. Come on, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, seriously. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat. It’s just been a bad morning.” She managed to hold Clay’s gaze, but it was difficult. “Everything is fine. But I’ve got to go because I’m really, really late.”

  “Are you sure nothing is wrong?”

  She inhaled and sighed. “I stopped by the house today.” Marley skipped over the subject of Beau entirely because she just couldn’t face that problem yet. Mrs. Conley waited, but if she hurried, she’d still have time to make it.

  “And?”

  “Mom’s getting worse.”

  Clay’s expression softened. “I was afraid that might be it. What happened?”

  “What always happens? I bought her a beautiful sunflower because she loves them and…nothing. I barely got a thank-you.”

  “So she didn’t jump up and down clapping her hands because you brought her a present. That doesn’t mean she’s getting worse. Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

  “It’s not that and you know it. Or if it is, every day is an off day lately. You haven’t noticed?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t been around much, though, and when I stop by she’s usually asleep. I don’t want to disturb her so I hang out with Dad.”

  “Don’t you think sleeping all the time is a problem? I can’t help but think she’s going into that funk where…What if she’s on the verge of another collapse?” It hurt to say the words aloud, to admit the fear because it made it more real. Especially now. Could Beau’s timing be worse?

  “I’m sure she’s fine. She hasn’t been asleep every time I stopped by. Maybe it’s you.” He held up his hands when her mouth dropped open. “I mean, you as in you’re misunderstanding her moods or something, not you you.”

  He had it right the first time. Marley toed the rough floor and glanced at her watch. No way would she make it to her two o’clock now. And she still hadn’t had lunch. A complaint her gurgling stomach told her quite loudly.

  “Just give her some space and stop watching her like a hawk. That’s probably what it is,” Clay said with a nod. “Maybe she’s not comfortable because she knows you watch her so closely. It does get a little much when you get that look on your face—yeah, that one.”

  She walked over and grabbed the phone. “You’re talking to me about looks and space? Oh, you mean, like the kind you gave Angel a few minutes ago?”

  Her brother’s brows pulled low. “I can’t talk to her?”

  “Not right now, no. You barged in here and immediately started hounding her.”

  “I didn’t hound her. And why can’t I talk to her? If not now then when? When she shows up again in another four years?”

  Her brother’s desire to talk to Angel was the same as Beau wanting to talk to her, but what were her brother’s motives? Beau wanted answers because he supposedly couldn’t remember. What did Clay want?

  Considering Angel’s sex kitten body and the relationship they’d once had—which Angel actually blushed over whenever it was brought up—Marley had a pretty good idea. “Guess it’s a good thing she’s only passing through then, huh?”

  Technically it wasn’t a lie. Angel didn’t know what she wanted at the moment, but Marley sincerely doubted her friend would stay more than a few weeks so passing through was accurate.

  Clay’s eyes widened at the news, and a split second and a curse later, he took off out the door.

  Watching him, Marley shook her head. Now she had to make two calls. One to Angel’s cell to warn her and another to her two o’clock to say she’d be late.

  Men. The world would be a lot quieter and calmer without them.

  CHAPTER SIX

  BEAU TRIED to get comfortable on his bed. It didn’t work. He tossed and turned, wrestling with the pillow and the scratchy sheet that kept him from getting cool in the air-conditioning.

  Finally he figured out the mattress was just too soft. Why hadn’t he switched it for a firmer one? He’d have to remember to talk to Pop about it later. At least slide a board beneath it to firm it up. Had his tastes changed that much while he was in the Marines?

  Beau rolled over onto his back for the tenth time and pulled the pillow over his forehead with a sigh. After a while, his thoughts began drifting, the medicine he’d taken after getting home making him woozy. To distract himself from the pain, he concentrated on imagining Marley and discovered it an easy thing to do.

  She’d looked so fierce. Green eyes flashing, her body quivering in surprise at the sight of him even though she’d tried her hardest not to show it. The sun in her hair, a kaleidoscope of reds and golds and blond, but mostly red. A deep, dark red. Red as the devil’s tail…

  “Red as the devil’s tail and probably just as hot, just like Pop says, huh? What do you think? Do you like it?”

  “Bet she’d do good, all right.”

  “Come on, I’ll pay you back! You know I will. You’ve got the money, but it’ll be gone if I wait to save it up. Buy it for me. Come on, Joe, please?”

  Beau flinched, rolling onto his side and curling his knees toward his chest as bright lights flashed in front of his eyes and sent rockets of pain through his skull.

  Cradling his forehead in his good hand, he struggled to raise his injured arm to his head, as well, rubbing, pressing, the sweat breaking out on his body turning icy and making him shiver.

  Another memory, another voice.

  Hesitant to trigger the gut-clenching pain again, he tried to pull the memory back so he could focus on the details. Tried to put a face with the name and voice, but only saw a filmy haze. The pain lessened bit by bit and after a few more minutes he welcomed the comforting softness of the mattress he’d found so irritating moments before, floating…He pulled the sheet up and eased into the depths with a sigh.

  Joe…Joe.

  Who the hell was Joe?

  THAT EVENING Marley looked through the peephole of her apartment door before unlocking it and swinging it wide. “You’re just in time. Dinner will be here in ten minutes.”

  Angel carried a bag on her shoulder and pulled another suitcase behind.

  “Only two?”

  “What can I say, the trunk’s not that big. Until I decide what to do, I’m traveling light.”

  Marley laughed. Her friend had a clothes fetish that would rival any Hollywood star.

  “I parked between your truck and the building. If Clay comes by tonight, I’m hoping he won’t see my car.” Angel propped her bags against the wall and released a weary sigh.

  “That bad, huh? How was she?”

  “Drunk and belligerent, how else? My mother’s turned four-letter words into a new language. I learned a few new ones while I was there.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Angel waved a hand in the air. “Don’t be. It’ll make for a good memoir one of these days.”

  Marley shut the door and locked it, leaning against the panel while she surveyed her friend. By outward appearance Angelique had it all, but inwardly…

  “Come on. Fill me in on th
e details while I make us some tea.”

  “QUIT STARING AT ME. I’m fine now. The headache is gone.”

  Barry nodded and grabbed a biscuit from the KFC box. He knew exactly what was on his son’s mind. That woman from the construction site had been on his mind all day, too. It was a given that they’d run into one of Beau’s friends or girlfriends before he regained his memory, but who would’ve thought it would happen in this sleepy river town? “Why do you keep rubbing your neck?”

  His son lifted his uninjured shoulder in a shrug. “My mattress is too soft. I slept wrong and have a kink in it now. Think the construction guys would mind me taking some sheeting they’re not going to use? I thought I’d put a piece under it to firm it up.”

  Frowning, Barry reached out to grab the glass of ice water from the table in front of him. “Don’t think that would be a problem, but that mattress is practically brand-new. I bet we went to five different stores to find one you liked.” He shook his head, picturing the scene.

  “What?”

  Shaking his head once more, he waved his fork at his son. “You, that’s what.” He took another drink. “We’d go to look at mattresses and you’d bring a girlfriend. Well, we finally find one, I go to pay, and when I came back, you and she were rolling around making a spectacle of yourself there in the store. Thought we’d have to buy the display model.”

  Barry blinked when he thought he saw color creeping into his son’s face. Embarrassed? Not likely. Beau had stretched out on the bed and grinned cockily, uncaring what the manager had thought or that he’d mortified his father.

  “Sounds like you let me get away with too much.”

  What started off as a chuckle turned into a booming laugh the likes of which he hadn’t released in a long, long time. He ended up wheezing and coughing, unable to catch his breath. “Think so, eh? The docs warned me you’d have some personality changes after that conk to your head, but I never dreamed they’d be this drastic. Back then you always told me I was too strict and to leave you alone so you could live your own life. Now I let you do it? Parents get the blame for everything, don’t they?”