The Husband She Can't Forget. Patricia Forsythe
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four-inch heels since.”
“Best twenty bucks I ever spent,” Tom said smugly. “We got married six years later.” He leaned over and kissed his wife, who happily kissed him back.
“I’m only glad I wasn’t the cause of you taking that tumble,” he went on. “I was so awkward and nervous, I’m surprised it wasn’t my feet you tripped over. You never would have gone out with me again.”
“Absolutely true,” Frances said.
Carly’s gaze flew to Luke. He was looking at his relatives with pride and humor, but he must have felt her attention on him because he turned his eyes to meet hers. A shadow passed over his features and he twisted away.
She and Luke certainly didn’t have a story like that, full of drama, but also sweetness. Theirs had consisted of overwhelming attraction, pain and recriminations.
Suddenly desperate to get away, Carly began gathering her silverware and stacking it on top of her two empty plates. “If you’ll excuse me, everyone, I know Frances’s chocolate cake is over on the dessert table and it’s eager to be my new best friend. I think I’ll take a piece into a dark corner and show it some appreciation.”
Becky smiled as she asked, “Cake, too? Sounds wonderful. I wish I could eat like that.”
“You might have to work as hard as Carly does,” Luke said. “She owns Joslin Gardens and does most of the work herself.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Becky said, giving a small wave of her hand as if to shoo away her previous error. “I knew that. And you refinish furniture, too, right? I’ve been looking for a small table and a couple of chairs for my breakfast nook. The one I’ve got is too big and too modern-looking for my house. I like retro.”
Even though she wanted to get away, Carly couldn’t resist an opportunity to talk about her other business. “As a matter of fact, I do. I recently completed a rebuild of a little gateleg table with two chairs. I painted it pale yellow. It looks like something straight out of the 1950s.”
“Sounds perfect,” Becky said. “When can I see it?”
They arranged a time for her to come out to Joslin Gardens and Carly was at last able to stand and begin making her escape, but she stopped when Tom asked, “You’re going to open a shop in town, right? To sell your furniture and other pieces?”
“That’s right, although I haven’t settled on a space yet. I’m calling it Upcycle because everything will be reclaimed and repurposed.”
“Excellent,” Becky said. “I’ll probably be a regular customer.” Her husband squawked an objection and she gave him a playful punch on the arm. She turned her smile on Luke. “And what about you? Will you be going back to Dallas after the holiday?”
He sat back, stretched out his legs and looked at Carly as he said, “I’ll be around for a few days, then back to Dallas. I am buying property in this area, though.”
Carly’s face felt as frozen as a Siberian lake in winter. Her heart pounded and a wave of distress swept over her. She hoped that didn’t mean he planned to buy a house nearby. If he did, she might run into him anytime.
* * *
DISMAYED, LUKE WATCHED as Carly gave everyone at the table a bright smile. “It’s always nice to have more people in Reston,” she said before she hurried away. The Halls followed a few minutes later, heading toward the dessert table, as well.
He hadn’t meant to spring it on her like that. He’d only decided today, when he’d received the reports from the engineers, that Reston would be the perfect place for his project.
“Well, that wasn’t as awkward as it could have been,” Frances said, her sympathetic gaze following Carly.
“It was awkward enough, and I suppose I could have told her before I made a general announcement.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” his uncle said. “Carly’s so busy, you’ll probably never see her.” Tom paused. “I’m glad you’re going to be here for a while. How long will your project take?”
“Dad’s given me nine months—”
“Because he thinks you can’t do it in that length of time, and then you’ll come back to Dallas with your tail between your legs.” Tom shook his head. “My brother still thinks a vacancy is going to occur and he’ll be king of the world.”
Luke nodded and gave an ironic twist of his lips. “True, but that’s another reason I’m glad I can buy the property I need from you.” He paused. “The location, though...” He ran his hand over his chin.
“It has everything you need, Luke. The right layers of shale, privacy—”
“A crummy road to keep people out,” Frances added.
“Although it will have to be graded so we can get the equipment in and out,” Luke answered.
“And you won’t have a fight over the mineral rights.” Tom grimaced. “Or the ones on the adjoining property.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“I know, but you don’t have time to look for another place, not with my brother breathing down your neck.” Tom held out his scarred rancher’s hands, palms up. “I don’t see what else you can do.”
“Me neither,” Luke answered in a dull voice.
All three brooded over the situation for a moment before Frances stood and said, “I think it’s time for me to start making the rounds and charming people out of their money.” She smiled when she spied her daughter-in-law carrying her baby son across the patio. “Good. Max is up from his nap. I’ll take our grandson along as my sidekick.”
As she swept away in a swirl of brightly colored skirt, Tom watched her go and said, “Marrying her was the smartest thing I ever did.”
Glad for the change of subject, Luke nodded. “I agree.” He fell silent, mulling over the fact that so many of his family members had happy marriages, successful relationships. His parents had been happy, even though they were completely different people—his mother had been sweet and easy-going, his dad was...well, tough. All indications were that his Omi, Wendolin, had been happy with her husband, Harry, who had died when Luke was twelve. The rest of the family seemed happy, too. Not only Tom and Frances, but their son, Trent, and his wife, Mia, their lives even more complete now that they had Max.
He fought a surge of envy, knowing that he and Carly and their disastrous marriage, as well as the loss of their baby, were the exception that proved the rule in his family.
He also knew that he was slipping very close to feeling sorry for himself. Standing, he went to snag a piece of Aunt Frances’s cake before it was all gone.
* * *
THIS WAS THE perfect time. He wiggled under the barbed-wire fence and reached back for the bucket whose handle he’d wrapped with cloth so it wouldn’t make noise if it fell. Now he just had to make sure he didn’t drop the bucket itself, especially not after he filled it with what he needed.
Bent at the waist and keeping his head low, he scuttled down the rows of spring onions, carrots and beets. He wasn’t interested in those. He stopped at the blueberry bushes and carefully opened the wood-and-chicken-wire lid of the first protective cage built to keep the animals from eating the berries.
No one had expected a two-legged animal to show up and help himself, he thought, and grinned in the light of the full moon. He wasn’t being greedy, he assured himself. They had plenty and he planned to take only a few from each bush. That way, there would be enough left for tomorrow night. Working quickly, he filled his bucket, closed the cages and disappeared into the night.