Dear Santa. Karen Templeton
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accepting that they’d reached a stalemate, he said, “Then I suppose you’ll be looking for another apartment when you get back to the city.”
“That’s the plan, yep.”
“In less than ten days.”
“Rub it in, why doncha?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “There is one more option. If push comes to shove.” He nodded toward the guesthouse. “It’s sitting empty, anyway.”
“Oh! Oh, no, I couldn’t—”
“Think about it,” he said, then turned and strode back inside.
“I take it we’re not talking some rickety old shack you wouldn’t keep your dog in?”
Mia could count on Venus not to mince words, about this or anything else.
“Uh, no.” After Haley went down for her nap, Mia got the key from Etta to check out the guesthouse. Not that she was even remotely considering taking Grant up on his offer, but she figured she might as well know what she was turning down. “Two bedrooms,” she said into her cell. “Wood floors—well, carpet in the bedrooms—a kitchen big enough for a table and more than half a person in it at once—”
“Get out.”
“I know, I know. Of course, compared with the main house, it is a shack. Compared with what I’m likely to be able to afford in Manhattan, however, it’s a palace. But come on—it’s in Connecticut!”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you’re in Washington Heights?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And what’s with the ‘uh-huhs’?”
“Think back. Way back. To the way you nearly broke something trying to get a better look when Grant walked by your office on his way to his appointment with that tax attorney—what was his name again?”
“I did not!” At yet another “uh-huh,” Mia sighed. “Okay, but that was temporary insanity by reason of immaturity. And anyway, my reservations have nothing to do with… that.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Venus. I’ve met warmer cadavers.”
“Girl, you have got to get out more.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately, I do. But may I remind you that particular cadaver just offered to co-sign a sizable loan for you? Not to mention save your sorry butt so you don’t end up out on the street?”
“Oh, please…this is a man who invests millions without batting an eye. And what skin would it be off his nose to let me live in this house?” Her gaze skimmed over the skuzz-free stove, the gleaming stainless steel refrigerator with a freezer large enough to hold more than a two frozen dinners, a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a single ice cube tray.
“You’re tempted, I can tell,” Venus said.
“Of course, I’m tempted. I’m not made of stone.”
“We’re both still talking about the house, right?”
“And you so don’t want to give me a reason to rethink the raise I was going to give you.”
“He didn’t have to offer,” Venus said, completely unconcerned. “But he did anyway. And it’s been more than a year since that dirtwad dumped you and as far as I know you haven’t even looked at a man since, and here’s this good-looking dude being all generous and kind—”
“Kind might be stretching it,” Mia said. “And it’s not as if there’s no ulterior motive. And besides…”
“Yeah, I know—after what happened between him and Justine, blah, blah, blah. And a girlfriend doesn’t mess around another girlfriend’s man, never mind that they’d been divorced for more than a year and it’s not like she’s gonna know, anyway. And you know something else? It takes two, baby. Meaning I know you’re being loyal to Justine and all, but maybe she had something to do with the marriage falling apart, too. I’m just saying. Because you do have a problem with letting friendship blind you to who somebody really is. Take ours, for instance—you probably think I’m actually nice.”
“In general or at the moment?”
Venus snorted, then said, “But as far as the you-in-Connecticut-me-still-in-Manhattan thing…first off, seeing as half your clients are already up there, anyway, I’m not sure what difference it makes whether you’re schlepping up there from Manhattan, or down to Manhattan from there. And think of how much you’ll save in garage fees.”
She had a point there. Mia needed the van for her work, but she could support a medium-size developing country for what she paid to berth her car every month. Hey, maybe she could live in her car, skip paying rent altogether…?
“I don’t know, Venus. It sounds good on paper, but…I don’t know. Look, I need to get back. Etta and I have to figure out what we’re doing for this reception, since I seriously doubt people are going to show up with funeral food. As far as I know, I’ll be back in the city on Friday.”
“Yeah, but for how long?” Venus said, then hung up.
Leaving Mia standing in the middle of a puddle of brilliant fall sunshine gilding the living room’s polished oak floor, feeling very conflicted indeed.
Chapter Four
In his foyer, just outside the living room—where mourners alternately chatted and gorged themselves on Mia’s and Etta’s impressive spread—Grant stood sentry, almost daring Christopher Schofield to walk through his front door. Of course, Grant had seriously doubted the man would have had the cojones to show his face at his lover’s funeral reception—especially as he had to know Mia would be here—but he hadn’t been about to take the chance.
Not that Mia needed Grant’s protection, if one could even label his concern as such. Haley, however, did, and damned if Grant was about to let his child get inadvertently caught up in something that had nothing to do with her.
Sitting through the service, between him and his mother in a lace-collared dark-green dress she’d nearly outgrown, Haley had silently fidgeted through the proceedings with little outward reaction. Since Justine had been cremated, there’d been no casket, which—now that Grant thought about it—probably made it all even more confusing for the child. A suspicion borne out when, after they’d returned to the house, she’d begun running from room to room, upstairs and down, clearly looking for something.
Or someone.
For the past half hour or so, however, Haley had been settled in Mia’s lap, her brow occasionally puckering in response to this or that person’s awkward condolence. Now, watching those dark eyes solemnly taking it all in, Grant wondered if she was finally beginning to understand what had happened.
As much as any of them were, at least.
His attention drifted back to Mia, nicely cleaned up for the occasion in a full-skirted black dress that hugged her torso and pleasantly showed off black-stockinged calves, ending in very high heels. Assorted clips and things halfheartedly held her hair up off her neck, leaving assorted, shiny bits of silky brown floating around her face. She hugged Haley’s waist from behind, her chin resting on the child’s head, her placid expression belying the stress of the last few days. As much of a bulwark as she’d been for Haley—and Etta, when it came to pulling everything together for the reception—Grant wasn’t unaware of how often she’d slipped away, only to return a few minutes later with those telltale red-rimmed eyes and splotchy cheeks.
In some strange way, part of him envied her ability to feel things so strongly, even if he couldn’t completely tamp down the irritation that, in this case, her grief was misplaced. The other, saner, part was profoundly