Summer in Orchard Valley: Valerie / Stephanie / Norah. Debbie Macomber
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business too seriously.
“Cassidy would be a good match for a woman like Valerie,” he said as offhandedly as he could. The last thing he wanted was for Valerie’s father to know how attracted he was to her, although he suspected David already knew. The old man seemed to have a sixth sense about things like this.
“Rowdy will, at that,” David returned matter-of-factly. “I should know, too.” The cocky grin was back in place.
Colby’s chest tightened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. David hadn’t referred to his dream lately, the one he’d termed his near-death experience. But from bits and pieces of conversation, Colby had learned that David was still predicting Valerie’s wedding. It made sense that the man he expected her to marry was Rowdy Cassidy.
All the better. He—
“Stephanie’s home,” David said conversationally, cutting into Colby’s thoughts. “I saw her briefly this morning. What a lovely sight she was to these tired old eyes.”
Colby nodded, finding it difficult to dispel the image of Valerie married to her employer. Well, he’d better get used to the idea, because it was likely to happen soon. And because he refused to deliberately ruin his life by marrying the wrong woman.
He’d call Sherry this afternoon, Colby decided with renewed determination, and ask her out to dinner. One thing was certain; he intended to steer clear of Valerie Bloomfield, regardless of how hard that was.
So much for the best laid plans, Colby mused as he left the Surgical Intensive Care Unit. Valerie was standing in the corridor waiting for him. As always, when he saw her, his heart was gladdened. An old-fashioned expression, perhaps, but he didn’t know how else to describe what he felt when he was with Valerie.
He remembered the time he’d sought her out after losing Joanna Murphy. Just being with her had taken the sharp edge off the pain of that unexpected death, had helped him deal with the frustration, the sense of powerlessness. When she’d suggested coffee, his first inclination had been to refuse, but he’d found he couldn’t. Sharing his concerns with her had, in some indefinable way, comforted him.
It seemed to him that their conversation had helped her, too, in coming to terms with her father’s illness.
They’d helped each other. In thinking about those moments together, Colby understood why he couldn’t simply dismiss his fascination with her as sexual attraction. That was part of it, all right. But more than any woman he’d ever known, Valerie Bloomfield was his equal. In intelligence, in emotional strength, in commitment to those she loved.
Every time Colby had been with her since, he experienced an elation, a small joy that left him feeling bewildered. Left him wanting to be with her even more. Yet he knew he couldn’t afford to pursue a relationship that had no chance of lasting.
“You wanted to see me?” Valerie asked, her eyes meeting his expectantly.
He frowned and shook his head. “No.”
“Norah left a note for me last night, saying you’d phoned.”
“Oh, that. It was nothing.” He wanted to kick himself for that phone call now. He’d been looking for a reason to talk to her. His day had been long and tiring, and his defenses down, so he’d made up an excuse to hear the sound of her voice.
“I just wanted to tell you I’m transferring your father from SICU this morning,” he went on quickly. “His progress has been nothing short of remarkable. If it continues like this, he’ll be out of the hospital inside a week.”
Valerie’s eyes sparkled with relief. “That’s wonderful news! It seems everything’s happening at once. I don’t know if you heard, but Steffie got home last night.”
“So I understand.” Colby watched her closely. Although she said nothing else, he realized that something was troubling Valerie. Her brow had furrowed, ever so briefly, when she mentioned her sister’s name. Colby suspected she wasn’t aware of the tiny, telltale action.
“Something going on with your sister?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, just now. She was sitting in the waiting room reading a copy of the Clarion when she jumped to her feet, demanding to know if I’d read it. Before I could say anything, she dashed out, taking the paper with her. I can’t remember ever seeing Steffie so angry. I’m not sure what got into her, but I’m guessing it has to do with Charles Tomaselli.”
“I’m sure she’ll tell you eventually.”
“I’m sure she will, too, although I have a feeling this is connected to an article he wrote with Dad’s help. I just don’t understand what she found so offensive. I read it and I didn’t see any problem. Those two can’t seem to get along. They never could. It’s always surprised me, because she seemed to be so keen on him and I was beginning to think he felt the same way.”
The temptation to linger, even to suggest they have coffee together, was overwhelming, but Colby resisted. He was doing a lot of that where Valerie was concerned. Resisting. He only hoped his willpower held firm until she went back to Texas—and to Cassidy—where she belonged.
“Valerie,” Steffie said, standing in the doorway outside Valerie’s bedroom. “Have you got a moment?”
“Sure.” Valerie was sitting up in bed reading, but her mind wasn’t on the latest computer technology she’d had every intention of studying. With infuriating frequency, her thoughts drifted away from high resolution monitors and narrowed in on Colby. She welcomed her sister’s visit, not least as a distraction.
Steffie crossed the room and sat on the edge of Valerie’s bed. “I made a complete fool of myself this morning,” she said, her eyes downcast.
Valerie waited for her to explain, but further details didn’t seem to be forthcoming. Her curiosity was aroused, but she didn’t want to pry.
“With Charles,” Steffie finally said, drawing her knees up and circling them with her arms. “It isn’t the first time, either. He’s the one person in the world I swore I’d never speak to again and then, the first few hours I’m home, I make an idiot of myself over him.”
Valerie set aside her business journal and drew up her own knees. “He’s been worried about you.”
“You’ve talked to him? When? What did he say?” Steffie’s head came up. Her long dark hair fell to the middle of her back, and her eyes probed Valerie’s. Although Steff was almost twenty-seven, she looked closer to eighteen. Especially now, when she felt so embarrassed.
“Charles asked about you shortly after I got home, and later he was concerned because you didn’t arrive when we expected you. Apparently he made some inquiries, trying to track you down. Both Norah and I were so caught up in what was happening with Dad that we weren’t as worried about your late appearance as we should’ve been. Charles, however, seemed terribly anxious.”
“He was just hoping I’d get home in time to make an idiot of myself, which I did.”
Valerie thought that was unfair of Steffie. “Charles has been wonderful,” she protested, still wondering exactly what Stephanie had done.
“To you and Norah. I’m the one he can’t get along with.” Steffie’s shoulders rose as she gave a deep, heartfelt sigh. “How do you know when you’re in love, really in love?” she asked plaintively.
Their mother should be the one answering that question. Not Valerie. She hadn’t figured out her relationships with Colby or Rowdy. Bemused, she shook her head. She could outsmart the competition, put together some of the biggest deals in the industry, but she didn’t know how to tell if she was in love.
“I wish I could answer that,” Valerie said quietly. “I know next to nothing about love. I was sort of hoping you’d be able to enlighten me.”
Steffie frowned. “Don’t tell me we’re going to have to talk to