Читать книгу If the Ring Fits... - Jackie Braun - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

“THE house has been sold?” Stunned, Rachel plunked down in the chair in her office. The leather seat groaned even as she did.

On the other end of the telephone line, her real-estate agent, Flora LaBelle, was saying, “I’m just as surprised as you are. Of course, technically, both you and Mal have to accept the offer in order for the sale to go through, but I think you should. It’s a pretty decent one, especially for this soft market.”

“How decent? Full asking price?”

“Well, no. A little less than that.”

“By how much?”

Flora cleared her throat. “By about ten thousand dollars give or take a few hundred.”

“Oh.” And damn! This was not what Rachel wanted to hear. She’d hoped to get as close to the asking price as possible since she would have to split the equity with Mal. She needed every penny.

Flora wasn’t done. “The buyer also wants you to pick up the closing costs.”

That would be several thousand dollars more out of pocket. “Gee, is that all?”

Despite Rachel’s sarcastic tone, Flora continued. “And the buyer is requesting that all of the kitchen appliances stay with the house.”

“The appliances? They’re brand new.” Indeed, stainless-steel beauties that Rachel had picked out herself just before learning of Mal’s infidelity. “I was hoping to keep those.”

She and Mal had agreed on that in the settlement. Rachel had planned on them for the apartment’s kitchen to keep down the renovation costs.

Flora sighed. “You can buy new appliances, Rachel. I have other listings that have been on the market for months without so much as a nibble. You would be foolish to quash the sale over appliances.”

“Can’t we at least counter the offer?”

“Mal doesn’t want to,” Flora said.

“Mal? You’ve already talked to Mal?”

“I… Yes.”

“And he doesn’t want to at least see if we can get out of paying the closing costs?”

“He thinks the offer is fair.”

Which put the ball back in her court.

Flora was saying, “It could be months before another offer comes along, and even then it might not be as good as this one. It’s hard to say which direction the market is heading, Rachel. In the meantime, you’ll be making mortgage payments and the winter taxes are coming due. And Mal said the furnace is getting old.”

“I get it,” Rachel said, figuratively throwing up her hands in defeat. It was a game of roulette, one with a high cover. She couldn’t afford to take the risk.

“On the bright side, the buyer has agreed to forego a home inspection and take the house as is.”

“Thank God for small miracles. So, what do I need to do now?”

“I can swing by your shop in half an hour for you to sign the purchase agreement. Then I’ll get all of the other paperwork in order.”

“Terrific,” she muttered. “Assuming the sale goes through, how long before we close?”

Flora coughed again. Rachel was coming to dread the sound. “That’s another thing. The buyer is in a hurry to take possession.”

“Well, I’m not in a hurry to leave. My place here won’t be ready for months.” Rachel knew it was too optimistic to hope she had that long. “Any chance I can pay rent until I can move in here?”

“Sorry, but no.”

Rachel cursed silently. “Okay, what are we looking at?”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks!” This time she cursed out loud. “I can’t do two weeks, Flora. Two months would be pushing it.”

“That’s the buyer’s terms, I’m afraid. And it’s non-negotiable.”

Rachel kneaded her brow. It was quiet overhead at the moment, but the shop was set to close in half an hour and the work crew would arrive. They’d accomplished a lot in the week since she and Tony had walked through her future home, but it would be weeks, months before the apartment was habitable.

“I know it’s unusual for a sale to close so quickly, but the buyer is preapproved for the loan and everything else is in order,” Flora said. “Of course, any additional costs in expediting the matter—courier service and things of that nature—will be borne by the buyer.”

“It’s about time they offered to pay something,” Rachel muttered.

“I’ll be by shortly with the papers,” Flora said.

Rachel barely heard her. Her house was sold. Where was she supposed to live until the apartment was ready?

* * *

The days ticked by even as she sought an answer to that question. Finally, all that remained between her and a date with a moving van was the weekend. Late in the afternoon on Friday, she paced the house from the all-white kitchen to the quiet bedrooms and then back down the hall to the living room. Out front, the For Sale sign her Realtor had staked on the leaf-scattered lawn bore the addition of a bright red SOLD! sticker. Rachel studied the sign as she cupped a mug of green tea in her chilled hands. As eager as she was to leave, she wasn’t ready to go.

She sipped the tea, swallowing it around the lump of dread in her throat. She’d boxed up some of her things, items she wouldn’t need right away. They were at the shop now, wedged into every nook and cranny she could spare. But that was about all she had accomplished. She hated moving, even if she wasn’t going to miss the house itself. Turning away from the window, she glanced around. Everything here was so beige and benign. All of the rooms were a study in monochromic understatement. She preferred a more eclectic decor—bursts of color, texture and pattern. But none of that was reflected here. She wasn’t reflected here. And that was her fault. She’d demurred to Mal’s sedate preferences to avoid argument and to keep the peace that her parents’ marriage had lacked.

Indeed, the house as a whole was a compromise. If it had been up to her, she and Mal would have lived in a rambling, restored farmhouse just outside of town. He’d vetoed that idea as soon as she’d brought it up, just after their wedding. Too much upkeep and too far from the city, he’d said. No, the newly built story-and-a-half in the Sherwood Forrest subdivision was the way to go. It was in an excellent school district, close to parks and shopping, and, as such, a better investment overall. Knowing what it had just sold for, Rachel wasn’t so sure.

Regardless, Monday would be here before she was ready for it if she didn’t get busy.

“So, what is Plan B going to be?” she murmured.

Her sister had offered the use of her one-bedroom apartment’s futon, and Rachel knew she would be welcome at her mother’s condominium. Neither option held any appeal, even as a last resort.

Taking up residence in the small, pink-walled room that still sported the canopy bed of her girlhood felt too much like taking a step backward. As for her sister’s closet-size apartment, Rachel needed more privacy than a bed in the living room would afford. Heidi’s lifestyle reflected her age and single status. She had a crazy work schedule and an active social life, which meant she came and went at all hours of the day. Besides, Rachel didn’t think her back could stand more than a night on the lumpy futon.

Her cell phone trilled as she made herself a second cup of tea.

“Promise not to hate me,” Heidi beseeched as soon as Rachel answered.

It was never a good sign when her sister started off a conversation that way. Rachel promised anyway.

“I told Dad about your divorce and housing situation.”

“Dad?” Rachel was too busy being surprised to be angry. “When and where did you see him?”

The last time their paths had crossed was two Christmases prior, when he’d moved back to the area after a year of selling real estate in Florida. A perfect occupation for him, Rachel had thought. If anyone could sell undesirable swamp land for top dollar, it would be Griff Preston. He’d promised to stay in touch. He hadn’t. No surprise there.

“Today. I ran into him at work of all places. He came in for lunch and sat in my section.” Heidi waited tables and sometimes tended bar at a private golf club. Even when the course was closed for the season, the clubhouse remained a favorite hangout for the CEO set and other business people. “He didn’t even recognize me at first.”

Her sister laughed. That was Heidi’s way. Live and let live. Rachel, however, fumed on her behalf. What kind of father didn’t recognize his own daughter?

“Was he alone?” she asked before she could remind herself that she didn’t care.

“He was with a woman.”

Again, no surprise. Their father had left their mother for someone else, although he’d never remarried. That initial affair hadn’t lasted long, but over the years he’d never wanted for female companionship. The older he grew, the younger and tackier the women he dated became.

“Let’s see. Thirties and blonde?” Rachel inquired blithely as she dunked the tea bag in a mug of boiling water.

“Nope. A redhead this time, and I think she might be younger than you.”

Rachel shifted the phone to her other ear and began dunking the tea bag more vigorously. Mal, Tony and now her father. Was every man on the planet dating a woman who was younger than she was?

“Any tattoos?”

“A red rose on the back of her neck and some other designs that I couldn’t make out poking from the cuffs of her blouse. I’m betting there are more. Obviously her mother never gave her the lecture our mom gave us.”

“Anything on your hip at twenty will be sliding down your backside at fifty and you don’t even want to know where it will end up by the time you’re seventy,” Rachel recited. They both laughed.

“So, you’re not mad?” Heidi asked.

“I don’t like him knowing my business,” Rachel said slowly. “He lost that right a long time ago.”

Rachel knew that, generally speaking, Heidi agreed with the sentiment, but Heidi’s feeling were that if showering his daughters with gifts or money now and again eased Griff’s guilt, so be it. Take whatever he offered. He owed them that much.

“He’s going to be calling you,” Heidi said.

“Why?” She gritted her teeth to keep from following up the question with the slew of unflattering adjectives popping around in her head.

“He has a friend who owns a condo development. The bank foreclosed on one of the units a couple of months ago and the guy bought it back for a song. It’s sitting empty until they can do some updating and put it back on the market. You wouldn’t even have to pay—”

“No,” she said flatly.

“No? Why not, Rachel? It solves your most pressing problem,” Heidi said. “If you won’t stay with me or Mom, you’ll have to pay rent somewhere else until the apartment over your shop is ready.”

As it was, Rachel just barely could afford the contractor she’d hired, though she comforted herself with the thought that it made more sense in the long run to add an income property than to pay rent. Now, she was going to have to move twice and pay rent somewhere in the interim, too.

Still, Rachel was adamant. “I don’t want Dad’s help.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t take advantage of it…and him,” Heidi said. “If he wants to help, I say let him.”

“Did he say anything about my divorce?” When her sister remained silent, Rachel prompted, “Well?”

“Just that he wasn’t surprised.” Heidi coughed. “He said he knew from the start that Mal wasn’t the right sort of man for you.”

She hated that Griff was right. She’d known her relationship with Mal was far from perfect even before he was unfaithful, but it had seemed far more perfect than her parents’ marriage. Men like her father cheated. Flashy men who were quick with compliments. Sexy men who were steeped in charm. Tony Salerno sprang to mind. Men like that couldn’t settle down. They liked adventure, variety. They broke hearts along with their promises. But men like Mal? He’d seemed so safe.

He worked as a financial adviser. He wore conservative suits. He drove a midsize sedan the color of sand. He was solid, dependable—boring, according to Heidi. But Rachel had craved boring after all of their father’s drama.

“Like Dad is such an expert on marriage and relationships,” she said drily.

“You know Dad.”

Rachel was far from mollified. “He barely knows Mal. He barely knows me. Or you, for that matter.”

Griff and Mal had met only twice—the day of Rachel’s wedding and that Christmas when her father had popped in unexpectedly, about as welcome as the heavy loaf of store-bought fruitcake he’d brought with him.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter.”

“Rach—”

“I don’t want his help.” Good and worked up now with righteous indignation, Rachel exclaimed, “In fact, I’d sooner strike a bargain with the devil than take it.”

Her phone beeped. Another call was coming in. “I’ve got to go, Heidi. I’ll talk to you later.”

She was relieved to end the conversation with her sister until she heard Tony’s deep voice. The devil, it turned out, was on her other line.

“Good evening, Rachel.”

“Mr. Salerno.”

“Tony.” She heard a soft chuckle. Then, “I apologize for calling after hours and on a Friday no less.”

Rachel gave out her cell number only to select customers. Tony was one of the few, due to the amount of money he’d spent at Expressive Gems over the years.

“That’s all right. Is there a problem?”

“That depends on you. I’ve had a change in my itinerary. I was planning to pick up the necklace on Wednesday. Unfortunately, I need to return to New York before then.”

“So, you want to pick it up early.”

“I do. If it is ready.”

“I finished it just this afternoon. I think you’ll be pleased with the result.”

“That goes without saying. Your work is always exceptional, which is why I keep coming back.”

“Thank you. I can open the shop early tomorrow.” Normally on Saturdays, she didn’t flip the sign on the door until ten o’clock. Expressive Gems was closed on Sundays, as were most of the shops downtown except for the bakery and restaurants.

He made a humming noise. “I was hoping I could pick it up tonight. I will pay you extra for your trouble, of course.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Rachel’s response was automatic, that of a businesswoman. The customer was always right, especially a customer with pockets as deep as Tony’s. But she also thought it might do her good to get out of the house for a while, even if only to go back to the shop where she’d already spent the bulk of her day.

They made plans to meet in an hour, which gave her enough time to change her clothes, freshen up her makeup and do something more flattering with the hair she’d pulled back in a messy ponytail upon arriving home. She settled on a French braid, and traded in the comfortable black yoga pants and a T-shirt for a pair of khakis and a navy blue knit sweater with three-quarter-length sleeves. Tony was waiting in the parking lot behind Expressive Gems when she arrived. He was wearing a tuxedo.

“I feel underdressed,” she remarked on a self-conscious laugh as she unlocked the door and tapped the deactivation code into the security system’s panel.

He glanced down, as if just realizing that he was garbed in black formalwear and French cuffs. “I was at a fundraiser for the Detroit Institute of Art. I was asked to introduce the guest of honor, after which I was able to slip away.”

“It must have just started.”

“I will not be missed,” he replied on a shrug.

She wasn’t sure she agreed. Looking as he did, he would have had the attention of every woman in the building. Add in his charisma and business savvy, and men would have wanted to seek him out, too.

Tony was saying, “I hope I did not take you away from anything too important this evening.”

She almost laughed. Summoning up a bit of self-deprecating humor, she replied, “Important? No. I was at a party. A pity party. Guest of honor. Believe me, I was happy for the interruption.”

“A pity party.” He frowned.

“I was feeling sorry for myself,” she clarified. “Wallowing.”

“English may be my second language, but I am familiar with the term.” He stepped behind her, helping her out of the coat she’d begun to slip off. She felt his breath graze her temple when he continued. “I have a hard time picturing you wallowing.”

“I assure you, I can do a credible job of it when I put my mind to it.”

“Allora… What is the reason for this pity party?”

“My house has sold, and I have until Monday to be out.”

“But the apartment upstairs cannot be ready so soon.” Tony nodded then. “Ah. I see. It is not ready. What will you do?”

“I’m weighing my options.”

Tony studied Rachel. From the way her mouth tightened, he decided none of them was to her liking.

“If I may be so bold, what are those options?”

“Oh, the usual. I can go and live with family. My mother and sister have already made the obligatory offer. I also could…” She shook her head and added resolutely, “No. I won’t even consider the condo.”

“Why is this condo not worthy of consideration?”

Rachel blinked. It was clear she didn’t realize that she’d shared that last part with him.

“Sorry. I was thinking aloud. It’s just that my father, well, apparently he has a business associate who owns a condo where I could live rent-free for a few months.”

“But you will not even consider it. Why?” Tony asked curiously.

She sighed. “It’s complicated. My father and I are not on the best of terms.”

“Ah.” That was all Tony said. He found that the less one prodded, the more some people opened up. Sure enough, after another sigh, Rachel started talking.

“When it comes right down to it, I barely know him—my father.” She snorted out what passed for a laugh. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him in the past half-dozen years.”

“He and your mother are divorced.”

“Since I was a little girl. My sister was practically a baby when he left us.”

Rachel’s tone was matter-of-fact, but her expression was wounded. Interestingly, she appeared more broken up over her parents’ failed marriage than she did her own.

“There was another woman,” Tony guessed.

“That’s right.” Her laughter was humorless. “And I thought Mal would be safe.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Never mind.” She worked up a smile. “That was just a little more wallowing on my part. See, I told you I was good at it.”

Tony wasn’t ready to let her previous remark go just yet. “Instead of trying to remain safe, maybe you need to be reckless every now and then. Take more chances.”

“I’m not a fan of taking chances.”

“I think you are.” He stepped closer. “You are a businesswoman. That involves risk.”

“True, but—”

“And you are an artist. Again, you are putting yourself on the line.”

Her brow furrowed, leaving Tony with the distinct impression he’d struck a chord. But then Rachel was shaking her head. “Let me clarify, I am not a fan of taking chances when it comes to personal relationships.”

He nodded slowly. “It is much harder to put one’s self at risk emotionally, and that is what relationships require.”

“Are you going to tell me you’re speaking from experience?” Her expression was droll.

Tony laughed softly. “I confess. I am a far better teacher than student when it comes to such matters.”

“I hope I won’t offend you, but I don’t think there is anything you could teach me when it comes to relationships.”

He smiled even as she blushed.

“Nothing?” He had the advantage and they both knew it. Tony took another step forward. Her back was literally to the wall.

“Y-your track record with women says as much.”

“Simply because a relationship does not end with me getting down on bended knee, does not make it a failure.”

“What does that make it?”

He shrugged and pushed away the thought that he might be missing something, denying himself something less obvious than permanence.

“I enjoy myself. The woman I am with enjoys herself. It lasts as long as it lasts. There are no hurt feelings. No repercussions.” He leaned one forearm on the wall. He lowered his head, lowered his voice to a seductive whisper. “When was the last time you enjoyed yourself, signorina?”

Her blush was telling, but when she spoke, her tone was so professional that he was left to marvel at her control…and fantasize about breaking it.

“I think we’ve gotten off track here, Tony. Let’s see about that necklace.”

Off track or not, she was finally calling him by his given name. Tony straightened and backed up a couple of steps. Very well. He had pushed her far enough, especially since he had no idea where he wanted her to go in the end.

“Yes, the necklace. I am eager to see it.”

Rachel turned and nearly tripped over a row of boxes that was lined up against the wall on the other side of her office door. If not for his hands on her waist, she would have fallen.

“What is all of this?” he asked once her balance was restored.

He needn’t have asked. The boxes bore labels such as Extra Linens, Holiday Decorations and Board Games.

“Just some items I came across while clearing out my closets. I thought some of my employees might be able to use them.” She frowned as she studied the boxes. “It’s amazing the amount of stuff you accumulate over the years.”

She continued to the safe then. After getting out the necklace, she took it to one of the display cases, where she draped it on a headless black-velvet-covered bust.

Her expression was a mixture of pride and apprehension. Oh, she was a true artist, all right. And from his experience, artists were a passionate lot.

“Well, what do you think?” she prodded, and it occurred to him that he’d been staring, not at the necklace but at Rachel.