David chuckled. “I’m just saying maybe you’re getting a second chance.”
“I don’t believe in them.”
David’s humor faded and he gave Jack a serious look. “Not every woman is Shelby.”
“I know that.” He put down his coffee and stood. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. As for Samantha, she’s a co-worker, nothing more.”
David grinned. “You’re lying. But we’ll play your game and pretend you’re not.”
“Gee, thanks. And if you hear anything on the whereabouts of my brothers, let me know.”
“You’ll be the first.”
“Oh, my,” Helen said as she looked around the condo. “It’s very …”
“Plain? Beige? Boring?” Samantha asked with a grin.
“I was going to say very ‘not you.’ But those will work as well.” She stepped forward and hugged Samantha again. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me, too. Getting out of New York was number one on my to-do list. You made that happen.”
Helen sank onto the sofa and dismissed Samantha with a flick of her wrist. “Oh, please. I got you an interview. I certainly didn’t get you hired. It’s not as if Jack would ever think to ask my opinion of anything. You got the job on your own.”
Samantha settled next to her friend and touched her arm. “You look tired. How do you feel?”
“Exhausted. Shell-shocked. It’s been two months. I guess I should be used to it by now, but I’m not.” Tears filled her eyes, but Helen blinked them away. “Damn. I promised myself I was done with crying.”
“There’s no time limit on grief.”
“I know.” Helen squeezed her fingers. “You’re sweet to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Okay. I’m pretending to be fine and that should count for something. Most of the time I do okay. I can now go for an hour or two without falling apart. In the beginning I was only able to survive minutes. So that’s an improvement. It’s just I miss him so much and I feel so alone.”
Samantha didn’t know what to say. Helen really was alone in all this. She didn’t have any family of her own and George’s sons hadn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms.
“Have you tried talking to Jack?” she asked. “He’s not unreasonable.”
“I know,” Helen said as she dug in her purse. She pulled out a tissue and wiped under her eyes. “He’s very polite and concerned, but we’re not close. I tried. I tried so hard, but no matter what I did, those boys resisted.” She sniffed. “I suppose I shouldn’t call them boys. They’re all grown men. They were grown when I met them. It’s just that’s how George thought of them. As his boys.”
Samantha angled toward her friend. “I don’t get it, either. They should have adored you.”
“Oh, I agree. I did everything I could think of. On my good days, I tell myself it wasn’t me. George was a wonderful man, but he was never very close with his sons. I don’t know why. Whatever problems they had existed long before he met me. Oh, but I loved him so much.”
“I know you did.”
Helen smiled. “All right. This is stupid. I didn’t come here to cry. I want to talk about you. Tell me everything. Are you loving your job?”
Samantha accepted the change in subject. She didn’t know how to help her friend, so maybe distracting her would allow her a few minutes away from the pain.
“Every second,” she said. “There’s so much work, which is great. I like keeping busy. I have so many ideas for the new Web site that I’ve started keeping a pad of paper and a pen on the nightstand. I wake up two or three times a night with more details or directions or things we could do.”
Helen wrinkled her nose. “I can see we’re going to have to have the ‘balance’ conversation in a few weeks.”
“Maybe,” Samantha said with a laugh. “But for now, I’m really happy. I like the people I work with, I feel I’m contributing. It’s great.”
“Do you miss Vance?”
Samantha sighed. “No. And I really mean it. I thought I’d hurt more, but I think all the betrayal burned away the love. For the longest time I thought I’d never forgive him. Lately, I’ve come to see that I don’t care enough to worry about forgiveness. He was horrible in so many ways. I have to think about myself and getting better. Not about him.”
“Good for you. You’ve made a fresh start. You can get back on your feet. Look around. Maybe fall in love again.”
Samantha held up her fingers in the sign of a cross. “Get back. There will be no talk of love or relationships in the context of my life, thank you very much.” She lowered her hands to her lap. “I’m done with men.”
“Forever?”
“For a while. I don’t need the pain and suffering.”
“It’s not all like that,” Helen said. “Vance wasn’t the one for you. You figured that out and moved on. It was the right thing to do. But you don’t want to turn your back on love. You don’t want to miss the chance to have a great love. I believe there’s one great love for everyone.”
Samantha nodded. “And George was yours.”
“He was everything,” Helen said. “I was so lucky to find him. We shared so much. That’s what I want to remember forever. How much we shared. How much we mattered to each other. I’ll never find that again.”
Samantha wondered if that was true. Helen was still a relatively young woman. And a beautiful one. Samantha had a feeling there was at least one other great love in her friend’s life. As for herself, she wasn’t interested in trying. Not when she’d been burned so badly.
“Speaking of men,” Helen said. “What’s it like working with Jack?”
“Good. He’s very efficient and gives me all the room I need.”
Helen raised her eyebrows. “And?”
Samantha shrugged. “And what?”
“Are there sparks? I remember there were sparks when you were in grad school with him. I remember long discussions about whether or not you should risk getting involved with him. I also remember saying you should, but you ignored me.”
“He’s not my type,” she said, sidestepping the sparks question. Mostly because she didn’t want to admit they were still there and starting fires every time she and Jack were in the same room.
“Type doesn’t always enter into it,” Helen said. “Some men simply turn us on.”
“If you say so.”
Her friend stared at her. “Jack isn’t like Vance. He’s honest and he’s been hurt.”
Samantha drew back. She was beginning to think all men were like Vance. “Are you matchmaking? If so, stop right now. It’s so not allowed.”
“I’m not. I’m making a point. Jack’s a great guy.”
“For someone else.”
“If you say so.”
Jack’s last meeting finished at four. He returned to his office and found several empty boxes by the wall.
Mrs. Wycliff, efficient as ever, had delivered them while he’d been out. He planned to pack up a lot of his father’s things and