Matthew's Choice. Patricia Bradley
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night.”
Then she took the tie without even an I-told-you-so glance and smoothed it out before handing it back to him. “Slip it around your neck.”
He did as he was instructed. “Thanks for doing this.”
“No prob...that’s what friends are for. Now, be still.”
He tried not to move, acutely aware of how close she stood to him. Maybe he should’ve tried harder to tie it. He cleared his throat. “You haven’t said anything about the apartment. Do you like it?”
* * *
ALLIE HAD DREADED that question from the minute she’d stepped into the place. She supposed some people like the minimalist look—sparse white walls, chrome and glass tables and a thin, hard sofa that no doubt cost a mint. The room reminded her of a spread in an architectural magazine. And it fit Matthew to a T.
“It’s...” Cold and sterile were the only words that came to mind. Just tell him what he wants to hear. Her gaze locked on the one dash of color, an abstract painting with a flowing crimson line in the center. “It’s nice. I really like the painting. Did your girlfriend pick it out?” Allie nodded toward the silver frame that held a photo of Matt with his arms around a willowy redhead.
“It’s actually her painting, and she put all of this together.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Her name is Jessica Winthrop, and she likes to paint, like you. We...we’re kind of talking about getting married.” He shook his head. “No, we’re not just talking, we’re making plans. She loves big-city living.”
Implying Allie didn’t. But it hadn’t been the move to the big city she’d fought. She forced a thousand-watt smile to her lips. “I’m glad for you.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire. She’d known one day he’d get married, and it wouldn’t be to her, but did he have to be the one to tell her? If she hadn’t come to Memphis over the holidays, hadn’t agreed to deliver Matt’s tux, she would’ve found out through the grapevine, which would’ve been bad enough.
And did he have to find someone who was an artist? She glanced at the painting again. Especially one so talented. She stifled a sigh. Focus on the task at hand. Get the tie on his neck and get out of here. Matt shifted his weight as she made a half knot and pulled it against his collar. “Be still so I can get this tied.”
A pregnant pause filled the room as Allie forced her fingers through the mechanics of knotting the tie. Finally she had the black silk material transformed into a presentable bow, and his collar turned back down. The pause grew heavier. “I saw your sister just before the Christmas break,” she said, more to fill the dead air than to pass information.
“What? Where?”
“At school. I double as the reading teacher and elementary school counselor. Her son has been having problems in the classroom.”
“Son?” His brow wrinkled into a frown. “What are you talking about?”
“When is the last time you saw Mariah?”
“Ten years ago, when Mother died.” He shrugged. “You were there—she was wasted.”
She definitely remembered Matt’s older sister that day. Allie had held Mariah’s head while she threw up in the commode. But now she understood his confusion—Mariah hadn’t told Matt she was pregnant. The son born to her was in Allie’s third-grade reading class and a frequent visitor to her counselor’s room. “And you haven’t talked to her since?”
“Sometimes. She calls every year or so, and for a while I have a number to reach her on, then it gets disconnected or she changes phones. But she never said anything about a kid.” His cell phone dinged. Matt checked it and winced.
“Your girlfriend?”
He nodded. “Jessica has decided she wants to drive, and she’ll be here in five minutes. Look, could I call you tomorrow to talk about my sister? Maybe we could get together for coffee.”
No way. Ending the year with a visit to Matt Jefferies was one thing. Starting the New Year off having coffee with the only man she’d ever loved and couldn’t have just was not happening. “I’m sorry. I have to go back to Cedar Grove tomorrow. Why don’t you simply call Mariah?”
“Why? So she can lie to me again? Besides, the number I have has been disconnected. Where are my sister and the boy living?”
“His name is Noah.” Allie dropped her gaze. “She works as a waitress at Loco Jim’s.”
Matt waited.
“And they live in a little house on Beaker Street.”
His shoulders sagged. “That’s next to the projects. Why didn’t she tell me? She could’ve stayed in Mom’s house. At least it would’ve been safer.”
“Last time I passed by your mom’s house, someone was living there.”
“I would have helped her find something better than that end of Beaker Street.”
Allie shook her head. “You don’t have a clue, do you? She would never ask you for anything.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
“Really?” She grabbed her silk purse. “Look, I don’t think you want me here when your girlfriend arrives, so I’d better go.”
At the door, Allie turned around. “I know you’re mad at Mariah for running off with that Connors kid, and maybe she doesn’t live up to your expectations, but she and Noah need you. Call her tomorrow. Or even better, go back to Cedar Grove and see her, meet Noah.”
From the set of his jaw, she knew that wasn’t happening. “At least call her.”
“Wait,” he said. “Thanks for helping me.”
* * *
THE ELEVATOR DOORS CLOSED, and Allie slumped against the stainless-steel wall as the elevator descended from the penthouse floor to the parking garage. What had possessed her to let Clint talk her into delivering the tux? Thoughts of wowing Matt with her new, slim body? Ha! He hadn’t even noticed.
No doubt about it, Matt Jefferies had succeeded in putting his past behind him. Evidently he’d made his dreams come true. Money, great job, great apartment and definitely way out of her league.
And with that success, he needed a corporate wife. From the looks of that photo, he’d found one in Jessica. Who liked big-city living. Who would probably laugh at Allie’s job in the school system in tiny Cedar Grove. Allie squared her shoulders as the elevator stopped on the ground floor. Why should she even care what this fiancée thought?
Matt was getting married. She’d make it a point to avoid him in the future. No need in getting her heartbeat up again. Besides, she had a party to get to, one where maybe her Prince Charming waited. Or not. With her luck, Clint had fixed her up with one of the old geezers living at the retirement home where his girlfriend worked. The doors opened and she stepped out, almost colliding with a model-thin woman in a flaming red gown that was definitely not off-the-rack.
Allie jerked up short. “Oh! I’m sorry.”
The woman shook her head, her diamond teardrop earrings shimmering with the movement. “Oh, no, it was my fault entirely.”
Whoever said women with red hair shouldn’t wear red had never seen the girl in Matt’s photo. She sighed as the elevator doors closed. Oh, yeah. Matt was definitely out of Allie’s league.
As Allie walked to her car, her cell beeped, and she snagged the phone from the black satin clutch. Clint. Where are you?
Instead of texting, she speed-dialed her brother’s number. “I’m on my way,” she said when he answered.
“Well, we’re waiting on you at the hotel, and your date is here.”
Oh, joy. “I’m not the one who sent me over