Читать книгу Back on Blossom Street - Debbie Macomber - Страница 10

Colette Blake

Learning to knit might fill up some of the lonely hours, Colette reasoned. Susannah had convinced her to give it a try. To her surprise, Colette discovered she was actually looking forward to the first class next Wednesday. Perhaps that was because knitting suggested an image of peace and contentment. She could picture a heavily pregnant version of herself sitting in the comfortable chair Lydia had left behind, knitting something for her baby.

She hadn’t told anyone yet. Within a few months, though, keeping her pregnancy a secret would be impossible. At this point, Colette didn’t know what she’d do once the baby was born, where she’d live, or even whether she should tell Christian about his child. With no firm plan in mind, she decided to wait until she saw how the authorities responded to her anonymous letter. She assumed she’d find out from the news—or she could always call Jenny at the office. Jenny would be happy to hear from her, despite their lack of recent contact.

The flower shop had been frantic with activity this morning—not unexpected, this close to Valentine’s Day. Susannah’s daughter, Chrissie, who’d transferred from the University of Oregon to the University of Washington, had agreed to step in one afternoon a week in order to free up Susannah and Colette for the class. There were advantages for Chrissie, too. She wanted to learn the business and prove she was a responsible adult; not only that, she’d be making some extra money.

The class project was a prayer shawl, which Colette hoped to use as a blanket for her baby. Lydia had said the idea of knitting a prayer shawl was to make it for someone in need of prayer or healing. Colette certainly needed both.

At the shop the previous week, Colette had met Chrissie, who seemed like a typical undergraduate—alternately self-confident and insecure. She was ebullient with a natural charm she put to good use in the shop. Chrissie was close to her mother and Colette envied her that closeness. Her own relationship with her parents was fine, although there’d never been the kind of easy banter Chrissie enjoyed with Susannah. Still, she wished they weren’t so far away, especially now. On the other hand, it could be awkward if they lived nearby. Colette hadn’t told them about the baby; if she did, she knew they’d insist she tell Christian and she couldn’t do that—at least, not yet. She felt suspended between her past and her future, unable to move ahead with the new life she’d begun.

She explained to her parents that she’d stayed because Seattle was familiar and comfortable and her home. That was true, but she also wanted to remain in town until she found out what would happen to Christian.

It wasn’t dark as early in the afternoons now, but by four, the shadows started to lengthen. Colette liked watching the activity on Blossom Street as the streetlights came on, illuminating the sidewalk. She’d been assembling a funeral wreath, adding white carnations and filling the space between the flowers with salal, an evergreen that grew wild in the area, when Susannah returned from an appointment.

“How’d it go?” Colette asked, knowing her employer had been nervous about meeting with the director of one of the largest privately owned funeral homes in downtown Seattle. Susannah had recently tendered a proposal to provide floral arrangements for prearranged funerals, which included an allotment for flowers, and had been asked to stop by to discuss her bid with the director.

Susannah removed her jacket and hung it on the peg in the back room. “The meeting went really well,” she said, looking hopeful. “I should know by the end of the week.”

“That’s great.” Colette wanted Susannah to succeed. For the moment, of course, she hoped to keep her job, and the better her employer did financially, the better for her. That wasn’t the entire reason, however. Colette liked Susannah, who’d hired her after a brief interview in which she’d asked a minimum of questions. Fortunately, she hadn’t requested references. Afterward Susannah admitted Colette was the first person she’d ever interviewed and she was simply following her instincts.

Working side by side as they did every day, it was only natural that they’d develop a friendship, although Colette hadn’t shared anything very personal. Their conversations tended to be about Susannah’s family, about books they’d loved and people on Blossom Street. Colette had, early on, described the external facts of her life—schooling, marriage, widowhood, and some vague details about her job. She held her memories of Derek close to her heart. They’d had a good marriage. The only real problem they’d encountered had been her inability to conceive. She’d loved her husband deeply and still grieved for him. At the same time, her feelings for Christian Dempsey confused her. During the past year she hadn’t been honest enough to admit her growing attraction to him, which had culminated in their one night together. She wanted to believe their lovemaking had been more than physical hunger between two lonely people. That hope was dashed when she went back to work after Christmas. Without his ever saying a word, she knew he regretted that night, regretted everything about it. He seemed preoccupied and worried; foolishly, Colette had assumed this uncharacteristic behavior had to do with her. She didn’t understand exactly what he’d gotten himself into or why he’d risk the business he’d worked so hard to build. All she could figure was that he’d found himself in financial trouble. Either that or he was being blackmailed. Whatever the reason, she wanted no part of it, or any association with him.

Susannah spoke, and Colette gratefully turned her thoughts away from Christian Dempsey.

“I’m not sure what I expected of Mr. Olson,” Susannah said as she slipped the big apron around her neck and deftly tied it at her waist. “But then I don’t normally hang around funeral parlors,” she added. “He was so friendly. But not somber, you know? Just genuine and low-key. Later I saw him talking to a family who’d lost a loved one and he had such a gentle, reassuring manner.” She gave a light shrug. “I was impressed with him—and I hope he felt the same way about me.”

Colette knew that if Susannah received the funeral-home contract it would be a huge boost for the shop. Her only experience with funerals had been Derek’s, which was a blur in her mind. His parents had flown in from Chicago and handled almost everything, making all the decisions about their son’s interment. In her benumbed state, she’d been glad to let them do it. While sitting in the waiting room, Colette remembered glancing through a brochure about prepaid plans. She would never have guessed it might one day be part of her own job.

“I assured Mr. Olson that while I’m new to this business, I have every intention of being around for a long time. Joe helped me prepare what to say. He’s been so wonderful.”

Colette admired Susannah’s husband, Joe, and the way he supported and encouraged his wife and her new venture. She envied them their loving partnership. She wondered if her own marriage would have deepened into that mature love. She liked to think it would have. But her husband was dead—and Colette was pregnant with another man’s child.

The phone rang just then and Colette answered it. As she started entering the details of an order, the front door opened and someone came into the shop. Susannah stepped out front to deal with the customer.

Colette finished writing up the order—a bouquet to congratulate new parents on their baby. The flowers would be delivered to a local hospital that afternoon. Because the business was small, Susannah had hired a delivery service. The driver stopped by once a day to pick up the orders. Flower arrangements like this one, for joyous occasions, brought Susannah and Colette the most pleasure. Funeral wreaths and arrangements were a staple of the business, but Colette knew from her own experience that no quantity of flowers, regardless of how exotic or expensive, would ease the ache of having lost a family member. The point was to honor the person who’d died and to express condolences to the living.

Susannah returned to the back room. “There’s a man out front who wants to speak to you.”

“A man?” It could only be one person.

Susannah stared at the business card in her hand. “Christian Dempsey. Isn’t he the man who left a phone message last week?”

Colette nodded jerkily. She hadn’t called Christian back, which was probably stupid on her part. It was absurd to think he wouldn’t be able to find her. Knowing him as well as she did, she should have realized her lack of response would only heighten his desire to confront her.

Squaring her shoulders, Colette moved slowly into the front of the shop and stood behind the counter. She would listen to whatever he had to say and pray that would be the end of it. However, nothing could have prepared her for the impact of seeing him again.

It wasn’t that his appearance had changed. Christian looked just the same as he had last month. As soon as she entered the room, his eyes flew to hers.

“Mr. Dempsey,” she said formally, which seemed a little ridiculous when she’d lain naked in his arms. But politeness offered her an emotional buffer she badly needed.

He frowned. “In light of … uh, recent events, calling me by my first name might be more appropriate.”

She studied him, not sure if he was making fun of her. What would be appropriate, Colette felt like saying, was to avoid any mention of their encounter at the hotel. “All right. Christian.”

“Did you get my message?”

“Yes. I did.” She didn’t offer any explanation as to why she hadn’t returned his call.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Anyone else might not have noticed. Colette did. After five years of working with him, she was all too aware of the nuances that relayed his mood and his thoughts. He wasn’t pleased with her, and everything about him, his look, his stance, the set of his shoulders, told her so. She could only surmise that he’d discovered she was the one who’d written the letter. Coward that she was, Colette had no intention of bringing it up.

His gaze continued to hold hers. “I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes. Privately.”

He knew. “That’s … not possible. I’m working.”

“Then I’ll wait.”

Nothing would intimidate walk-in customers faster than an irritated Christian Dempsey.

Colette hesitated and then reluctantly gave in. It wouldn’t do any good to put this off, she decided; he’d only come back. “I’ll see if my employer can spare me.”

Christian responded with a curt nod and she hurried to ask Susannah if she could leave early.

“Who is that guy?” Susannah whispered the minute Colette reappeared.

“My former boss. Would it be okay if I left now?”

“With him?” Susannah frowned, clearly concerned.

“It isn’t like we have a lot to say to each other.” In Colette’s opinion, this conversation should take about five seconds. Her biggest worry was how she’d feel afterward. The attraction was still there, despite everything she knew about him.

“Take all the time you need,” Susannah told her. “Just promise me that speaking to this man is something you want to do.”

It was, and it definitely wasn’t. “I need to,” she said, letting that explanation suffice.

Christian was waiting for her out front. Ever the gentleman, he held the door for her as they left the flower shop. She half expected some comment on the type of employment she’d taken after leaving Dempsey Imports. He said nothing.

“There’s a café across the street,” he said, gesturing toward the French Café with its striped awning. One of the windows displayed a multitude of baked delicacies and through the other they could see small tables and chairs.

“Why don’t we go for a short walk instead?” She didn’t want anyone from the café to listen in on their conversation.

Christian was agreeable. They spoke briefly, exchanging pleasantries as they strolled down Blossom Street. Christian walked with his hands behind his back, careful to keep pace with her shorter strides. What struck Colette was the way they both struggled to maintain a facade of unfamiliarity. They acted like strangers when they so obviously weren’t.

“How are you?” Christian asked. He turned to look at her as if he possessed the uncanny ability to see straight through her, which in fact he did.

“I’m very well, thank you.” She hoped her voice didn’t reveal how on edge she really felt.

“I mean, how are you … physically?” he asked again.

“Physically?” she repeated.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” His words were impatient. “If I remember correctly, neither of us took the time to employ any measures to prevent pregnancy.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment lit up her cheeks brighter than the red signal light at the intersection. “I’m fine. There’s … nothing to worry about.”

He didn’t seem to believe her.

“If that’s all,” she said, ready to part company, “I should be getting back.” Her mind was crowded with questions and accusations. She’d never taken Christian for a fool and yet she had proof that he was trafficking in Chinese aliens. Seeing him confused her. She didn’t want to think about him or give him reasons to suspect she carried his child. The sooner they said their good-byes, the better.

“No, there’s more,” he countered sharply. He hesitated, as though he wasn’t sure how to formulate the next question. After a brief pause, he blurted out, “I’d like you to return to Dempsey Imports.”

His request shocked her, and Colette automatically shook her head. “I can’t.”

When the light changed, they crossed the street and continued walking, no real destination in mind.

Christian waited until they were on the other side. “Is it because of what happened?”

“Christian,” she murmured and instantly knew he hadn’t found out about the letter. “It wouldn’t work. It’s unfortunate and I feel bad, but that night will always stand between us.”

“And day.”

He seemed to be trying to add to her embarrassment.

“Fine, and that day,” she admitted. “It doesn’t matter. Working together is no longer an option.”

“All right,” he said regretfully. “I realize I made a mistake after the holidays. The relationship changed and I had no idea how to deal with it.”

That wasn’t the only thing that had changed, she thought sarcastically.

“I pretended nothing was different between us,” he went on. “But it was … is. You’ve made your point. We need to discuss this like two mature adults and reach an understanding.”

“I don’t want to discuss it. And there’s nothing to understand. We made a regrettable mistake. Blame it on too much champagne, too much Christmas spirit.”

He raised his brows.

Colette stared down at the sidewalk. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Everything’s changed, Christian. I can’t go back to being your assistant.”

“Why can’t we both consider what happened at the Christmas party a slip in judgment and let it go at that? You’re a valuable employee. The company needs you.”

“The company?” she asked.

He exhaled slowly. “I need you,” he murmured. “I want you to come back.”

Colette supposed she should be flattered, since Christian Dempsey rarely admitted to needing anyone or anything. “It isn’t possible,” she said and she meant it. “We can’t undo what’s already been done. Don’t you see that?” He couldn’t honestly expect her to resume managing his schedule, his travel arrangements and his dates. As soon as he learned she’d contacted the authorities, he’d fire her anyway.

He didn’t answer.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“Why? Were you hiding?”

“No …”

“It wasn’t that difficult. I had Accounting contact your bank and get the new address—to mail your severance documents.”

She shrugged, feeling a bit foolish. But she couldn’t resist another question. “Did you hire a new assistant yet?” She could have asked any of the friends she’d made through the years. But the company must be rife with gossip and rumors as to why she’d quit so abruptly, and for that reason, Colette hadn’t called anyone at Dempsey Imports. Getting in touch with them to ask for information like that was a last resort.

“Lloyd York,” Christian said.

“Lloyd,” she repeated. She tried unsuccessfully to remember a face to go with the name. “I don’t know him.” As much as possible, Christian made it a practice to promote and hire within the company.

“He’s a temp.”

Colette felt her eyes widen. Christian disliked using personnel from a temporary agency and until now he’d avoided it. The fact that he’d looked outside the company only underlined his guilt. What she didn’t understand was his reason for wanting her back. Surely he knew she’d uncover his activities sooner or later.

“I hoped you’d come to your senses and return voluntarily. When I didn’t hear from you, I had no choice but to contact you myself.”

“Christian, I’m sorry, sorrier than you know. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

“You’re sure you won’t reconsider?”

“No.” She closed her eyes. Despite everything, she missed him, missed the demands and challenges of her position. Not a day passed that she didn’t think of him. She wanted to tell him about the baby but knew she couldn’t until everything had played out. Needless to say, she couldn’t predict how or when that would take place.

“You want to come back, Colette. I can feel it. Tell me what’s stopping you and I’ll make it right. You want a raise, fine. I’ll double whatever your salary was before. We know each other well and—”

Angry now, she whirled on him. “I beg to differ. After five years of working side by side, you know next to nothing about me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” she flared.

“On the contrary, I know you very well, Colette Blake.” The innuendo was so sharp, it felt like a carefully aimed needle pricking her vulnerable skin—and her pride.

“See what I mean?” she said as calmly as her hammering pulse would allow. “You just made my case. What happened … happened, and there’s no going back. I suggest you hire a permanent replacement, Mr. Dempsey, because I can assure you I have no intention of working for you again … ever.”

Conscious of the need to retain her dignity, Colette marched off, leaving him standing in the middle of the sidewalk.