“Thanks for coming over,” he said. “I do appreciate it, Lace.”
“You’re welcome, big brother.”
She gave him a hug and walked over to the door. But when she reached it she paused. And just before she disappeared around the corner, she said, in a rush, over her shoulder, “There is a solution to your problem, Jordan, and you know very well what it is!”
Felicity wrapped her lavender and pink floral-patterned china teapot in bubble wrap and tucked it carefully into the packing box. Then straightening, she smiled when she noticed RJ batting a wad of tissue with his paw.
Some people said cats sensed when a move was afoot and became twitchy and unsettled. Not RJ. Felicity had been cleaning out her apartment and packing her belongings ever since she’d recently sold the street-level property and RJ was exactly as he always had been: playful and inquisitive and supreme monarch of all he surveyed.
Felicity moved over to the kitchen sink and washed her hands. “We’ll be leaving here for good, on Monday, RJ. What do you think of that?”
He ignored her.
“We’re going over to Vancouver Island, to stay with Mom until I find a place of my own. I might even be able to afford a little rancher, one with a tree in the garden because I know you love to climb!”
Oblivious to the prospect, RJ leaped up into the air before pouncing down on the scrap of paper as if it were a mouse.
“Moving to the island will be for the best.” Felicity tried to smile, but catching sight of her pale taut features in the chrome surface of the kettle she gave up the attempt. She really had nothing to smile about anyway. But surely, once she was back on the island with her family for support, she would eventually find joy in her life again?
But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, she knew in her heart she would never get over losing Mandy.
RJ had grown bored with his paper, and scampering over to Felicity, wound his fluffy silver-white body sinuously around her right ankle.
She dipped down and picked him up. As he clutched her knit top, she stroked him, wondering if she’d ever felt quite so desolate. “It’s not as if I’m likely to ever have a baby of my own, RJ,” she murmured. “I’m twenty-seven, time’s running out, and still no sign of Mr. Right.”
If RJ could have spoken, she mused, he might have reminded her she’d had no fewer than three serious proposals of marriage over the years, but she’d turned them all down.
“Because I wasn’t in love!” she protested. “I enjoyed their company, but not one of them made me feel the way I want to feel…”
RJ purred loudly, as if to ask, “And what way is that?”
“The way it is in romance novels.” Felicity’s voice was dreamy. “I want my heart to ache for him when we’re apart, I want it to sing when we’re together, I want to feel as if I’m on Cloud Nine when he takes me in his arms, I want to feel as if I’m drowning when he looks into my eyes. Wherever he is, that’s where I want to be—”
The shrill ringing of the wall phone made her jump—and RJ leaped from her arms. Stepping around the packing boxes, she lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
She sensed someone at the other end of the line, but no one spoke.
“Hello?” she repeated. “Who is this?”
Still no reply.
“Who are you trying to—”
At the other end, the phone crashed down.
“Well!” She took the receiver from her ear and stared at it indignantly, “you might at least have said, ‘Sorry, wrong number!”’
Jordan slumped back in his swivel chair and stared grimly at the phone on his desk. He’d been gearing up for days to make the call and when push came to shove, he couldn’t go through with it. He could not, he would not, have anything to do with Denny Fairfax’s sister—
“What happened? Did you make the call?”
He jerked up his head and saw his sister in the study doorway. “I thought you were upstairs with Mandy.”
“She’s asleep. Finally.” Lacey came into the room. “So…did you make the call?”
“Yeah.”
“You talked to Felicity?”
“No.”
“Did you leave a message on her answering machine?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you just ask her to call you back when she gets home—”
“She’s home.”
“She’s screening her calls? How can you know that?”
“No, she’s not screening her calls. She picked up the phone.”
“I don’t underst—oh.” Lacey slid her hip onto the edge of the desk, and sent him a disappointed reproachful look. “You didn’t have the courage to—”
“It had nothing to do with courage, dammit.” He pushed to his feet and planting his fists on his hips he glowered at his sister. “It had to do with—”
“Bitterness.” Lacey gave a sympathetic nod. “Jordan, we’ve been over this ground before. OK, you feel bitter. But you’re letting your emotions get in the way of what’s best for your daughter. Mandy loved Felicity Fairfax, and it’s my belief that she’s missing her dreadfully and that’s why she’s so difficult to handle. She’s letting you—and everybody else!—know that she hates the way things are now and she wants to get back to her old routine, where she felt safe, and loved, and happy. Jordan—”
Lacey’s beeper went, and she exhaled a weary breath. “Honey, I have to go. I have a plane to catch tonight. Will you promise me you’ll phone again…and talk to her this time? I do realize there’s a possibility she may not even want to take on the job. She may blame Marla for what happened to her brother, and may feel as bitterly toward the Maxwell family as you do toward hers!”
“So what you’re saying now is that I should call and plead with her to look after Mandy again and risk having her spit the suggestion back in my face?”
“That’s a chance you’ll have to take.”
He walked Lacey to the front door. The night was clear and bright, and from this location high on the slopes of West Vancouver, he could see the city lights spread out ahead like an endless field of stars…
Heaven upside down.
Lacey put her arms around him and gave him an encouraging hug. “Do it, Jordan. For Mandy’s sake.”
Felicity continued packing till well after midnight then decided to call a halt. After dragging the boxes she’d packed through to the utility room next to the kitchen, she let RJ outside for a quick prowl and then got ready for bed.
She’d just put on a T-shirt nightie, braided her hair, and slathered her face with white cleansing cream, when through the bathroom window she heard RJ yowling to get in.
She hurried to open the back door before he disturbed the neighbours.
“Come in, you handsome beast—” Her breath froze in her throat. RJ shot past her while she stood rooted to the spot and stared, startled out of her wits, at sight of a man standing on her doorstep. With the moon at his back, his face was in shadow, but his hair was dark and his eyes glittered as they fixed on her.
“If that’s the way,” he drawled, “that you welcome strangers in the night, I’ve come to the wrong place.”
What did he mean?
Uh-oh.