The Reluctant Cinderella Page 7

  Out of her mind.

  Interesting word choice. Oh, yeah. Because she was out of her mind—out of her mind with yearning for a guy she wasn’t ever going to kiss again.

  About five-thirty in the morning, she finally gave up all hope for sleep. Feeling stir-crazy in her little apartment, she put on her robe and slippers and crossed the breezeway to Angela’s, where she brewed a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen island to watch the sunrise through the window that looked out on the backyard.

  “What’s up?” Angela stood in the doorway from the back hall, barefoot, in a knee-length sleep shirt, her soft blond hair tousled.

  “Nothing.” Another lie. But a tiny one, a lie that was nothing compared to Megan’s lies of yesterday, when she’d sat in Carly’s den and told her everything but what really mattered. “Just watching the sun come up.” She gestured over her shoulder at the pot on the counter. “I made coffee….”

  Angela padded over and got herself a cup. She slid onto the stool next to Megan. For a moment, the sisters stared out the window and sipped their morning coffee in companionable silence.

  Megan found herself thinking of their childhood, of how she and Angela had been so close, right from the first. And then, when Megan was fourteen, right after Angela’s sweet-sixteen birthday, their parents had separated—and then divorced.

  Angela had been devastated. Megan, too, but not as bad as Angela. Megan had seen enough tragedy in her life by then that, to a degree, the divorce of her adoptive parents was just more of the same.

  Their father, who had found another woman, vanished from their lives. Their mother became distant, wrapped up in her fury at their father’s betrayal. The sisters had grown even closer through that tough time. They had each other, at least. And they’d both vowed never to lose their special bond.

  Into the silence, Angela said softly, “When you want to talk about it, you know I’m here.”

  Megan took another sip. She continued to watch the sunrise. “Yeah. I know. Thanks, sis….”

  “Anytime.”

  All through Tuesday and Wednesday at Design Solutions, at home in the evening and later in her apartment during the mostly sleepless nights, Megan promised herself she wouldn’t even think about Greg.

  Her promises were pointless. She did think of him. She kept waiting for the feeling that she was throwing away something wonderful to fade at least a little.

  Waiting didn’t help. The feeling didn’t fade.

  Thursday morning, she got up early again, went over to the main house and made coffee.

  Angela appeared in her sleep shirt just as the coffee finished dripping. “Ready to talk about it?”

  “Yeah. I guess I am.”

  They filled twin mugs and sat at the island. As the sun came up, Megan told Angela everything—from the private stuff Greg had shared with her in the restaurant Monday to the tour of his empty house on Sycamore Street to the forbidden kiss. To how Rhonda and Irene had seen them, and finally to the way Megan had lied to Carly by not saying anything about any of it.

  Angela waited until Megan had gotten it all out. And then she said exactly what Megan had known she would say. “Tell Carly. Tell her right away. You know you’re not going to be able to live with yourself until you get things straight with her.”

  “Oh, God…”

  “I know how you are.” Angela sent her a look of fond exasperation. “At work, you’re a dynamo. Nobody gets in your way when it comes to Design Solutions. But here at home…”

  Megan finished for her. “I hate making waves.”

  “Well, in this case,” Angela predicted, “there will be waves and you know it, as soon as word gets around that you and Greg Banning are seeing each other.”

  Megan gaped at her sister. “But I’m not seeing Greg. Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

  “Every word. And I don’t believe for a minute that you and Greg Banning are done with each other. You’re crazy about him. You light up like a firecracker on the Fourth of July every time you mention his name. And from what you’ve just told me, he’s gone on you, too. Why are you trying to walk away from that? I don’t get it. You’re both single. You have every right to take the attraction you feel for each other and run with it.”

  “Well, yeah. Except for poor Carly…”

  “Greg isn’t Carly’s anymore. It’s sad she won’t admit that, but still, it’s a fact. Carly needs to get over Greg. And you need to deal with that big, fat hole in your integrity. You let Carly cry on your shoulder. That’s your weakness—you know it is. In your personal life, you let people think what they want to think. People tell you all their troubles and you let them, you listen and you nod and make understanding noises. You hold their hands. Which is fine. Most of the time. But this time, well, it’s kind of backfired on you. You held Carly’s hand and you heard her long, sad story and now she trusts you. When you tell her the truth, she’ll probably be very angry with you.”

  “And hurt. She’ll be so hurt.”

  “She’s already hurt. And I hope she gets past it. But you’ve got a problem of your own here and your problem is that you haven’t been honest with her.”

  Angela had it right. And Megan knew it.

  The kids came down for breakfast. Megan went back over to her place and got ready for work.

  But she didn’t go to work.

  At nine, she marched over to Carly’s and rang the bell.

  There was no answer—at first. But then, just as she was about to ring the bell again, the door opened a crack and Carly peeked through.

  “Megan!” She sounded so happy. The knife of guilt in Megan’s stomach twisted deeper. Carly pulled the door wide. “Come on in….”

  Grimly resigned to get the truth out once and for all, Megan stepped inside. Carly shut the door and let out a soft, nervous giggle as she patted her sleep-mussed golden hair. “Well, as you can see…” She retied the sash of her silk robe. “I’m not up and about yet. Lately, I just seem to be a hopeless slug-abed….”

  “Carly, I really need to—”

  “But you…” Carly’s eyes had gone wide. “Megan. You look terrific. You should wear bold colors all the time. This bright turquoise does wonders for your skin—not to mention those pretty green eyes of yours. It’s, well, Megan, this is a whole other you.”

  “Thanks. I was just, um, on my way to work….”

  Carly took her by the shoulders. “Well, I am serious as a heart attack here. Get yourself some casual clothes in bright colors. Be as gorgeous at home as you are when you go to work.”

  “Um. I will. I’ll do that.”

  “Good. Now, how about some coffee?”

  “Ah, no. Thanks. I’m fine.”

  A line had formed between Carly’s smooth brows. “Megan. You seem…are you all right?”

  She blew out a hard breath. “No. Not really. I have something to tell you. Could we maybe sit down?”

  In the den, Carly took the recliner. “Now, what? Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  Megan realized there was no way she could sit down. So she stood a few feet from Carly’s chair and made herself say that certain dangerous name. “It’s about Greg.”

  Carly put a hand to her slim throat. “What? Tell me? Is he…did he say something after all, on Monday? Did he tell you he’s been missing me? Did he hint that he wanted to try—?”

  “No.” The word came out harsh, abrupt.

  Carly cringed and shrank back into her chair. “Oh. Oh, well, then…?”

  “I’m sorry.” Megan put up both hands in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean to be so curt.”

  “It’s okay. But…oh, Megan. What did he say?”

  Lord. Where to start? How to tell it? “He, um…” She decided she’d better just lay it out there. “He asked me out.”

  Carly made a tight, strangled sound. Her face went chalky-pale. “I…excuse me?”

  “He asked me out. I, um, turned him down. But I didn’t want to turn him down. I’m very attra
cted to him. I didn’t expect that, to be so attracted. And I never in a million years thought that he’d be attracted to me. But, well, he is. He said so. And he, um, well, did you know that he owns a house right here in Rosewood?”

  Carly was staring at her as if she’d just committed murder—or worse. “I don’t… A house?”

  “Yes. It’s a few blocks away from here. It’s empty now, but he says he really does like Rosewood and he’s hoping someday to move back here.”

  “A house? What are you talking about? Greg doesn’t need a house. He has a house. Our house. This house…”

  Megan shut her eyes, sucked in a fortifying breath and made herself continue. “No, Carly. He says it really is over, between the two of you. That you’re divorced and that’s how it’s going to stay.”

  “No…”

  “Yes—and that house I just mentioned? Well, he showed it to me.”

  Carly’s fine nose wrinkled in an expression midway between sheer horror and disgust. “You? He showed you his house….”

  “Yes. And…and he kissed me, Carly. I mean, we kissed. Each other. He kissed me and I kissed him back.”

  Carly blinked several times in rapid succession. “I don’t…I can’t…” She paused, collected herself, said with an awful kind of calmness, “You know what? I heard, from Irene Dare, that she and Rhonda had seen you with Greg. I didn’t believe Irene. I thought she was just carrying tales, telling lies, stirring up trouble the way she and Rhonda like to do. I would never, ever have believed that Greg would…” She seemed to run out of words. She shook her head, tried to continue. “That you could…” The words ran out again. She swallowed. And then, with great care and a terrible, wounded dignity, she rose to her feet. She drew herself up tall and straightened her robe. “You kissed my husband?”

  Megan put out both hands in a placating gesture. “Carly. No—I mean, yes. I did kiss him. But he’s not your husband anymore and you really have to come to grips with that, I think.”

  Carly was shaking her head, backing away. “You…you pretended to be my friend.”

  “No. Carly. I am your friend…” Megan let her hands drop limply to her sides. “Or I was…”

  “You stole my husband from me.”

  “No. I hardly knew him. I swear. And until the third of July, when I went up to his office for that first interview, Greg never showed an interest in me. He’d even forgotten that he’d told you he’d see me. It was just pure luck that I caught him at his desk.”

  “Pure luck…” Carly made the words sound like a curse.

  “Carly—”

  “You said you told him you wouldn’t go out with him.”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “And then you kissed him?”

  Megan didn’t even try to defend herself. “Yeah. And then I kissed him.”

  Carly tipped her chin high. “I don’t know what to believe. All this you’re telling me, it could be just lies.”

  “Oh, no. Please…”

  “But the one thing I do know now is that you are not my friend, Megan. You are not my friend and I will never speak to you again.”

  “Oh, Carly. Please don’t—”

  “Shut up.” Carly put both hands to her temples and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Just shut up. Shut up and get out of my house and never come back here again.”

  Chapter Seven

  At home, there was no one.

  Angela had taken the kids to day camp and gone to work. Megan knew that she should head for the office, as well.

  But the awful scene with Carly had pretty much wiped her out. She went up to her apartment and sat on her bed and stared out the window that faced the backyard and wondered how she was going to manage to get through the day.

  Sweet, gentle Carly had kicked her out of the McMansion and told her never to come back. Carly hated her now. That really hurt. And what hurt even more was the sneaking suspicion that maybe Megan deserved Carly’s hatred.

  No.

  No, that wasn’t true. She didn’t deserve hatred. Fury, maybe. A good strong lecture for not being honest from the first.

  But hatred?

  Megan shook her head and let out a sad little laugh. What did it matter what she deserved? She had Carly’s hatred. That was the bald truth.

  Carly hated her. And Megan really, really needed to talk to Angela. She needed her sister’s wisdom and level head. She needed Angela to tell her that yes, she had blown it royally. But now, at least, she’d told the truth and accepted the consequences.

  Megan picked up the phone—and hesitated. She always tried to avoid bothering her sister at work. It was a small office and Angela was always on the go there. But hey, this was a special circumstance. She started to dial—and then thought of poor Carly.

  Sitting in that big house all by herself. Who was Carly going to call at an awful time like this? For Megan, there was and always would be Angela’s strong shoulder to cry on, Angela right there with her, to help her decide what to do next.

  Who did Carly have? According to Greg, she was estranged from her family. And in the neighborhood, except with Megan, Greg’s ex-wife always tried to put on a brave face.

  How bad off was Carly right now? She’d been in an emotional tailspin for months. Could the news Megan had just dumped on her be enough to put her over the edge in the most final kind of way?

  Oh, no. Impossible. Carly wouldn’t…

  But then again, what if she did?

  Oh, God. What if she did?

  Someone, Megan realized, ought to check on Carly and make sure she was okay. Someone should hold her hand, provide a listening ear and a big box of tissues. Megan would do it, if she herself didn’t happen to be the problem.

  Yes, she was fully aware that Angela would advise her to leave it alone. And Angela would probably be right.

  But Megan just couldn’t let it be. She felt too…responsible.

  So she started dialing. She began with sweet Mrs. Fulton across the street. Sylvia was the wise and understanding grandmotherly type, the perfect neighbor to come calling when a woman’s life and hopes and fading dreams came crashing down around her.

  But Sylvia wasn’t at home. Megan hung up without leaving a message. What could she say? Hi, Sylvia. When you get this message, could you go check on Carly and make sure she’s not slitting her wrists or anything?

  Uh-uh. Bad idea.

  Marti Vincente, maybe? But again, no one answered. Marti and Ed were probably already at the restaurant for the day.

  Next, Megan tried Jack Lever’s house in hopes that Zooey, the widower’s live-in nanny, might be around to run over to Carly’s. No answer at the Levers’, either.

  Who next? Irene Dare? Rhonda Johnson? God forbid—wait. What about Rebecca Peters?

  Megan looked up the number and tried it. But Rebecca didn’t pick up.

  Molly Jackson? Molly was a total career person. Megan really didn’t expect to catch her at home, but was just worried enough to give her a try.

  And what do you know? After two rings, Molly answered, “Hello?” Megan, who suddenly realized she had no idea where to begin, only gulped. And Molly demanded, “Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?”

  “Uh. Hi, Molly. It’s Megan. Megan Schumacher? I…well, I guess I didn’t expect to get lucky and find you home….”

  Molly cleared her throat and replied just a tad defensively, “I was feeling a little under the weather this morning, that’s all.”

  Megan remembered the incident in the powder room during the block party last month. Wow. Did Molly have some awful disease or something? “Oh, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered—”

  “It’s perfectly all right. I’m much better now.”

  “But if you’re sick—”

  “I’m not,” Molly said with finality. “As a matter of fact, I was just thinking I’d pull it together and go to work. And I will. Soon. But what can I do for you?”

  “I…have a big favor to ask of you.”

  “Whatever
I can do.”

  “It’s about…oh, I don’t even know where to start….”

  Molly laughed. “I have days like that. Way too many of them lately. Days like today, as a matter of fact…and come on. Hit me with it. As I said, I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thanks,” Megan said. “Ahem. Well. You see, it started at the block party last month, when Carly offered to get Greg to give me an interview….”

  “Hey, that was nice of her.”

  “It was. Really nice.”

  “How did the interview go?”

  “Great. I got the contract.”

  “Well, hey! Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. I also kind of…fell for Greg.”

  There was a stunned silence. Then Molly asked, “Greg Banning?”

  “That would be the one.”

  “Are you saying that he…fell for you, too?”

  “It kind of seems that way.”

  “Well. No kidding…”

  “No kidding.”

  “So what, exactly, happened?”

  “Um. It was like this….” Megan told the story quickly. She hit the salient points: the instant and shocking attraction between her and Carly’s ex; the way Megan had tried for days to deny that attraction. The meeting Monday in Poughkeepsie; Greg’s asking her out and her telling him no; that kiss she shouldn’t have shared with him. And how she’d finally gotten up the nerve to fess up to Carly just half an hour ago.

  There was a huge silence on the line when she finished talking. Finally, Molly said, “Megan, I really don’t know what to say.”

  “Yeah, well. I understand.” And she did. Much too well.

  Gingerly, Molly suggested, “Maybe you should have picked someone else, you know?”

  Good advice. Excellent advice. Just say no. Nothing simpler. And, somehow, in this case, about as easy as trying to stop an oncoming train by standing in front of it—not that that was any excuse.

  Molly added, “Then again, they are divorced. Carly will have to learn to live with that.”

  “Maybe so. But as of this morning—she hasn’t. Not in the least.”

  “She took it badly, then?”