They all sounded wonderful. But then, when you were as rich as Harry, everything sounded wonderful.
“Let me think about it,” she finally said. She refused to allow him to rush her into anything.
“What is there to think about? Which city you prefer? Or whether you’re going to go at all?”
“Whether I’m going to go at all.”
He sighed heavily, the sound clearly audible over the phone. “All right, Corny. Have it your way. When do you think you might have an answer for me?”
“Why do you need to know? Are you planning to ask someone else if I say no?”
He laughed. “It would serve you right if I did. But no, I’ve learned my lesson. It’s you I want. You and you alone.”
She almost said yes right then, but she bit her tongue to keep from saying it. He could just wait a few days. It wasn’t as if he had to make plane reservations or anything. Harry’s private jet was always ready and available to him, even on an hour’s notice. And a few days would give her time to plan just what she was going to say to him about his role in the matter of Greg and his new job.
After telling her he would check in with her the following day, they said goodbye. Cornelia stood there afterward holding the phone and thinking. Was she being silly? Should she just forget all this courtship business and the way he had summarily gotten rid of Greg and tell Harry yes, she’d marry him? Neither she nor Harry were spring chickens. Who knew how many years they had left? Why was she wasting even one minute of them when they could be together?
You love him, faults and all. You know you do.
Yes, she did.
Then there’s no reason not to say yes.
But there was a reason. Harry had broken her heart once. How could she be sure he wouldn’t break it again?
Now why had he done that? Zach’d had no intention of inviting Georgie to dinner, yet he’d given in to the impulse. And he had to admit that he was looking forward to having her there. Truth was, he liked her. He hadn’t thought he was going to, but she’d quickly proven herself to be not only hardworking, with good judgment, but she was smart … and he could relate to her. It also didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes.
It was kind of a shock that he had noticed. And, if he was being honest, that he’d responded to her. Until now, he’d been attracted to women who were more like Jenny: small, dark, girl-next-door types. No doubt about it. Georgie Fairchild was at the opposite end of the spectrum: tall, blonde and … sexy. Very sexy, because the sexiness wasn’t flagrant. But it was there. It certainly was there.
Still thinking about her, he walked into the kitchen to tell Fanny he was having a guest for dinner. He wondered what Fanny thought. She didn’t reveal anything of her inner thoughts when he told her, simply smiled and said, “I’ll use the good china, then.” After a moment, she added, “Will you still be joining the children for their dinner?”
“Until Miss Fairchild arrives.” Zach usually ate his dinner early, with the children, but tonight they would be fed first so he could enjoy a more relaxed evening with Georgie.
After he’d freshened up with a shower and changed into jeans, well-worn loafers and his favorite blue sweater—a shade Jenny had always teased him about, saying it matched his eyes—he went back to the family room to check on Katie and Jeremy. He found Katie there alone.
“Where’s your brother?” he asked, looking around.
She shrugged. “He got bored. I think he’s in his room.”
“What’re you doing, honey?” The television was dark, and Katie just seemed to be sitting there.
She shrugged again. “Nothing.”
He gave her a quizzical smile. “Nothing? Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Is your throat hurting again?”
She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t hurt.”
“Well, then …”
For a long moment, Katie stared down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. When she looked up, her eyes met his almost defiantly. “Fanny said that woman is coming for dinner.”
“By ‘that woman,’ do you mean Miss Fairchild?”
“Yes. Her.”
Zach suppressed a sigh. Before Jenny died, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d sighed. Now that’s all he seemed to do.
“I don’t like her.”
“Katie, you don’t even know Miss Fairchild. How can you not like her?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I just don’t.”
“But why not, honey? You must have a reason.”
Katie didn’t answer, just kept looking down and avoiding his eyes.
“Katie?”
Finally she looked up. Zach was alarmed to see tears. “Katie,” he said gently. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Are you gonna marry her?”
Zach’s mouth dropped open. “Marry who? Miss Fairchild?”
She nodded miserably.
“Of course I’m not going to marry her. She’s just a friend. Someone who is working for me.” And yet, even as he said this, he knew it wasn’t the whole truth. He and Georgie weren’t really friends. They hadn’t known each other long enough to be friends. And he was attracted to her. Too much so, in fact. Maybe Katie had sensed that.
“I don’t want you to marry somebody else.” Now the tears had spilled down her face. “I want Mommy.”
“Oh, sweetheart …” Zach knelt by the bed. He felt like crying himself. “I know you do. I—I do, too.”
“Why’d she have to die?” Katie sobbed.
At times like this, Zach felt so helpless. He knew the pat answers to these questions, but he also knew how unsatisfying they were. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said honestly, putting his arms around her. “Sometimes things happen that have no explanation.”
“It’s not fair.”
“I know it’s not fair.”
“I miss her.”
“Me, too,” he whispered.
After a few minutes, Katie seemed to gather herself together, and her tears stopped. “You know, honey,” he said, reaching for a tissue so she could wipe her eyes, “Mommy’s always with us. I know you can’t see her, but she’s here. She’s probably watching us right now, and maybe, if you close your eyes, you can feel her giving you a hug.”
Katie’s eyes met his, and he could see she wasn’t buying it. She didn’t want her mother’s spirit. She wanted a real, live mother. And not just any mother. Her mother. Zach sighed again. What could he say to his sweet child to make her feel better? That he would never marry anyone else? Never bring another woman into their lives? How could he promise that? He was only thirty-seven years old. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life as a widower. And he knew Jenny wouldn’t have wanted him to, either. In fact, one of the last things she’d said to him before she died was that she hoped he’d meet someone someday.
Finally, not knowing what else to say to his daughter, he whispered, “I love you, Katie. That will never change. You know that, don’t you?”