Blueberry Hill, #1 Page 2

  Evan waited, hoping he’d find out if the promotion he’d been all but promised was still going through.

  Stan’s assistant came in bearing a tray laden with coffee, sugar, cream, and an assortment of the cookies he knew they liked.

  “You’ve got a meeting in thirty.”

  “Thanks, Mitch.”

  Stan nodded to the guy.

  “Shut the door on your way out.”

  Evan added a spoonful of sugar to the black coffee and took two of the chocolate marshmallow cookies. He wondered if Mitch kept a file on everyone to remember their preferences.

  Over the years Evan had moved up the ranks, culminating with his promotion two years ago to Director. With the merger, he hoped he’d finally get promoted to Vice President. Seattle was expensive. He wanted to give Emily the best of everything, send their kids, when they had them, to the best schools.

  “Things are moving fast. We’ll be sending out the voluntary layoff announcement in the morning. Once those numbers come back, we can see where everyone fits. I know Phil in R&D is taking early retirement, which means a VP slot will open up.”

  “That’s splendid news. Any idea on numbers at the executive levels?” He knew the lower ranks would take a big hit, but he hadn’t been tasked with working on the upper management numbers. If only one VP slot was available, Evan knew competition would be cutthroat.

  His boss pursed his lips.

  “Between you and me, there will be significant layoffs and a flattening of levels. With this economy there’s no other choice.”

  Stan sipped his coffee.

  “I’ll look out for you, Evan. You’ve been a valuable part of the team. I expect good things to come out of this merger, for both of us.”

  Evan straightened his cuff links.

  “I’m ready to move into a new role, take on more responsibility.”

  They talked for another ten minutes before Stan had to leave for a meeting.

  The rest of the day passed quickly. Evan couldn’t wait to get home to tell Emily. He’d been working so hard for so many hours.

  When he finally made VP, his life would change. Work would get easier, not nearly as many hours. He ran a hand through his light brown hair.

  He’d have to up his golf game, learn to play racquetball. If he had his way, he’d take meetings while jogging or hiking, not playing racquetball. But at the company, you played golf and racquetball if you wanted to move into upper management.

  He was humming as he left for the day, not caring he had an hour and a half commute to get home. From everything Stan had said and intimated, it wouldn’t be long until Evan had everything he ever wanted.

  It was heart-breaking how quickly a life built together over thirty-five years could be dissolved.

  Tara sat back on her heels in the garden and looked at the surrounding carnage. Red spots dotted her arms and hands through the long-sleeved shirt she’d put on.

  Full of anger, she’d torn out the roses he’d given her for their anniversary, the ones she’d planted only days before at the far end of the pool. The thorns had pierced her anger, allowing a portion of it to drain into the soil, leaving behind sadness and bitterness.

  She wiped her face against her shoulder as she sat in the dirt; the sun shining down, the palm trees swaying in the breeze. The sun sparkled across the blue water of the pool, the scent of chlorine and freshly turned dirt filled the air. By the time she dusted herself off to go inside, she was stiff from sitting for so long.

  Inside the empty house, she poured a large glass of limeade to take upstairs. Their house had been so full of promise and possibility. A home. She looked around the empty spaces. Now it was just a house, waiting for someone else to move in and give the house new life.

  Instead of looking forward to traveling and reconnecting with her husband when he retired, Tara was starting over.

  Harry left the night of her birthday. After the guests departed, he went upstairs, packed a bag, and went rumbling off in his obnoxious sports car to the welcoming arms of his twenty-three-year-old pregnant mistress.

  Afraid of what she might do, Harry told Tara he’d come back to pack the rest of his things after she moved out.

  The coward.

  He wanted Mandy to come with him, to pick and choose what she wanted of their furniture before they sold it.

  A vicious kick sent one of the garbage bags full of clothes flying into the wall. She’d cleaned out all the closets and dresser drawers throughout the house. What he could sell or she thought he’d want Tara put in the formal living room along with their wedding china. It was a turquoise pattern by Royal Albert that she could no longer look at without feeling sick.

  Feeling better with each kick, she kicked the remaining bags of stuff down the stairs and into the grand foyer.

  The china gleamed on the dark wood table. She walked around the table idly picking up a plate. A surge of anger flooded her and before she knew what she was doing, Tara cocked her arm back and threw the plate at the wall as hard as she could.

  It shattered, pieces skittering across the tile floors and bouncing on the Persian rug.

  One plate was enough. The china was beautiful. It didn’t deserve to be broken. The dishes would find a new home, maybe with a couple just starting out, or perhaps Mandy would want them. It no longer mattered.

  Instead of cleaning up the mess, she went room by room, gathering up any remaining bags she’d set aside for donation and piling them in the great room. She left a note saying this pile was for donation and the stuff in the dining room was his to do with as he pleased.

  Exhausted, she poured the last of the limeade into her glass and went outside to sit on the edge of the pool, feet in the water.

  When they met in college, Tara surprised her friends when she told them she and Harry rarely fought.

  Maybe that had been their problem? There wasn’t enough passion for screaming, tears, and making up? Maybe this was some type of punishment for feeling a little smug all the times her friends told her about their drama filled breakups, knowing she didn’t have those problems.

  After the scene in the laundry room on her birthday, they didn’t fight or scream. Tara didn’t have the energy. Why should she when her soon-to-be ex-husband had already made his choice? Fighting was for when you thought you had a chance of winning. Quite frankly, she didn’t want a man who didn’t want her.

  So many betrayals. But the ring? That hurt cut deep. On his way out of their home Harry had taken her hand, running his finger over the ring and confessed.

  Several years ago, when he’d said he was having the ring cleaned, he’d actually sold the diamond, and had it replaced with a fake. Just like their lives together.

  As she’d gathered up the bags, she’d looked at the photos on the walls, the furniture they’d picked out together, and decided she didn’t want any of it, just like she hadn’t wanted most of her clothes, and linens.

  They represented too many reminders of a life that was based on lies. Harry admitted there had been other indiscretions over the years, told her how he’d tried to be discreet so as not to embarrass her. As if that was supposed to comfort her?

  If she was honest with herself, there had been times during their marriage when she’d wondered, but she’d brushed it off, thinking he’d never cheat on her.

  With one final splash of her feet in the water, she went into the house to grab her keys. Tara didn’t even bother to change clothes before she went to the grocery to pick up a few things. Before, she’d always made sure she looked nice in case she ran into one of their friends. Now? She no longer cared. Beauty had nothing to do with holding onto a man, just look at all the gorgeous celebrities who cheated on each other.

  “Tara?”

  It was the wife of one of Harry’s partners. She was the man’s third wife. Tara could never remember her name. She smiled weakly at the woman.

  “Nice day today, isn’t it? I was out gardening all morning.”

  The blond w
oman looked her up and down.

  “It is. And I can see that you were. I’d think you’d let the gardener take care of that sort of thing.”

  Her eyes turned sad, her voice filled with a mixture of pity and relief that she wasn’t the one going through this mess.

  “How are you holding up? I heard you and Harry are splitting up.”

  Tara plastered a bright smile on her face.

  “I’m good. Moving forward.”

  The woman pursed her lips.

  “Don’t worry about that little snafu at the firm. Milton assured me it’s all a big misunderstanding. It will all be cleared up soon.”

  Yeah, right. Somehow Tara refrained from snorting out loud.

  “That’s good to know.”

  No one really wanted to know how she felt. Women wanted her to be furious. Angry. But all she felt inside was a great yawning emptiness. Her body felt scrubbed raw from the inside out. Adrift and lost in the ocean.

  When someone died, people expected you to grieve. But with this kind of ending? They wanted details. Wanted to reassure themselves their own marriages weren’t in any danger.

  Tara had become a cautionary tale.

  “Well, it’s good to see you. You take care of yourself.”

  “I can’t imagine what it must be like?”

  “Pardon?” Tara didn’t want to hear another word, but knew if she didn’t let Miss Arm Candy finish, that she’d follow her around the store until she said whatever was on her tiny little mind.

  “You know. If I found out my husband had been cheating on me since we were dating, I think I would have pushed him in the water and let the gators eat him.”

  The woman leaned across her overflowing grocery cart.

  “Milton told me how Harry fooled around on you with one of the bridesmaids at your wedding. And with that blond bombshell secretary he had for a while.”

  The woman looked around and lowered her voice; the anger making her sound like one of those singers with the smoky voices.

  “Milton told me about the grocery store clerk in Seattle. Apparently she worked at the grocery store across from the hotel he liked to stay at when he went to the office there. I’ll be keeping a close eye on Milton from now on, just to be safe.”

  The woman’s eyes gleamed.

  “Take that cheating bastard for all he’s worth.”

  Tara snorted.

  “I will.”

  How did you take what was already gone?

  Ally hefted the oversized bright red tote bag onto her shoulder and leaned in the open window of the car.

  “Thanks again for the ride. I know it was short notice.”

  Her friend hesitated.

  “I know you’re worried about Jason, but this isn’t the first time he’s borrowed your car and not returned it in time for you to leave for work.”

  “He usually calls. I hope he’s okay. I’m sure he’d call if there’d been an accident.”

  Ally buttoned up the black wool coat and shivered. It was supposed to rain all day, not a good day to be without a car. Luckily Ruth worked a few blocks away and had been willing to give her a lift.

  “The guy is using you for your car and your kind nature. I’m not going to say anything else. He’s your boyfriend.” Ruth smiled to ease the sting of the words.

  “Jason is a good guy, he’s just forgetful.”

  Ally stepped back and waved.

  “I have to run. Literally.”

  Grateful the sidewalks were dry, and she’d worn boots today, Ally ran the last two blocks to the office, the wind making her eyes water.

  The elevator was slow, stopping several times on the way up. The office was on the top floor of the high rise. By the time she stepped off the elevator, she’d combed and pulled her dark brown hair into a bun and texted Jason.

  It was nine thirty; she was half an hour late, and the Dragon Lady was nowhere to be seen. Blowing out a breath, Ally detoured to the restroom to touch up her makeup.

  Still no response from Jason. If she didn’t hear from him by lunchtime, she’d start calling his friends, then hospitals.

  The door swung open, and her boss, otherwise known as the Dragon Lady by everyone on the floor, sauntered in. She was in her late forties and mean as a crocodile.

  “You’re late. Again.”

  “I’m sorry. My car wouldn’t start.”

  Ally dropped the lipstick in her purse and turned to leave.

  “My office. Five minutes.”

  With a sigh, Ally nodded.

  An hour later, security was escorting her to the lobby of the building. Ally’s boss was done with her tardiness. She’d been late ten times in the past month. The worst part? Each time was because of Jason.

  As if thinking about him conjured him, her phone rang.

  “Hey, babe. I’m so sorry. The guys and I were up late working on our app and I must have fallen asleep.”

  She wasn’t doing this here, where anyone could hear.

  “I thought you’d been in an accident or something awful had happened.”

  He laughed, actually laughed.

  “Not me. I’m invincible.”

  Somehow Ally managed not to lose it right there in the lobby. “Bring my car and pick me up from work. Now.”

  He yawned as he spoke.

  “I need coffee. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “An hour? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Gotta shower first, babe.”

  Her shoulders slumped.

  “Pick me up at the cafe across the street.”

  She hung up without waiting for a response.

  At twenty-nine years old, Ally was exhausted. Tired of jobs that went nowhere, tired of men who couldn’t or didn’t want to make a relationship work, and most of all, tired of trying to get ahead.

  The cafe was warm, the background conversations and music washed over her as she sat at the narrow counter in front of the window watching people hurrying off to lunch appointments so they could get back to the grind. Everything in the city was a rush. Why couldn’t people slow down? Maybe it was time to leave Milwaukee?

  Deep in thought, she didn’t notice Jason until he cleared his throat.

  “Sorry, did you say something?”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “I said I was sorry.”

  Though he sure didn’t look sorry.

  Leaning down, he kissed her on the cheek. “Let’s not fight.”

  Too tired to argue, Ally stood, letting him help her into her coat.

  Without saying a word, he picked up the two tote bags containing her belongings.

  On the way home, she let him drive, half listening as he went on and on about the app he was developing with his friends. The app worked with a tiny camera that attached to a pet’s collar so the owner could see what they saw and where the pet went if they went outside. The camera was small enough to fit on a cat’s collar as well, though Ally was skeptical a cat would wear the collar. All the cats her friends had growing up would have had the collar off in under a minute.

  When Ally was little, she and her siblings had always wanted a dog or cat, but their dad was allergic so they’d made do with getting their fix from their friend’s pets.

  Jason swore, hitting the steering wheel with his palms as traffic came to a standstill.

  “Why can’t you drive your own car? You’ve borrowed mine six times in the past two weeks.”

  He shifted in the seat to look at her.

  “Shelly needs mine. Her car broke down and she’s waiting for the parts to come in.”

  “For two weeks?”

  He ran a hand through his hair.

  “I’m tired from staying up late, working. I don’t want to fight with you.”

  Ally pressed her lips together.

  “You’re separated. You have been for over a year. Don’t you think it’s time for her to stand on her own two feet instead of calling you every time she needs something? Last week you went over there to
fix a leaky toilet. The week before, it was something with the garage door.”

  She shook her head.

  “I’m starting to wonder if she’ll ever sign the divorce papers.”

  Jason reached for her hand, but Ally snatched it away before he could touch her. When he held her hand or stroked her hair, she found it hard to say no to him.

  “She needs me. This has been hard on her. I was the one who left. It’s going to take time for her to get over me.”

  They pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex. There were dirty piles of snow in the corners of the parking spots and around the walkways.

  Ally arched a brow. “You were only married for a year.”

  “Shelly said she’ll sign the papers soon.”

  Right. She’d heard that before.

  “You’re putting her and this app ahead of me. I got fired today, thanks to you.”

  Inside the ground-floor apartment, Ally dropped the tote bags on the floor along with her coat and boots.

  Jason pulled her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry, babe. It won’t happen again. I’ll set my alarm. I won’t oversleep or be late again. Shelly will have her car soon, and then I won’t have to borrow yours.”

  He kissed her softly, then more insistently.

  “Once I sell this app, I’ll be rich. Then we can move into that condo on the RiverWalk you’ve been salivating over.”

  “Together? And you’ll get her to sign the divorce papers?”

  Ally didn’t want to still be single when she turned thirty next year.

  “Together, babe. Everything will work out. I promise.”

  She’d heard that before. But maybe this time he’d really do it.

  Chapter 3

  Not wanting the kids to be angry with him, Harry left it to Tara to tell them about the divorce. There was no rush to tell her children the world as they knew it had irrevocably changed.

  A few days after he’d left, she’d considered not telling Harry about the forgotten inheritance, but after she’d slept on it, Tara told him so he couldn’t accuse her of trying to hide it from him.

  When she told him about the cottage Aunt Frida left her, he’d scoffed, and said it was such a small town, the land couldn’t possibly be worth much. Not to mention he hated the cold, hated the mountains, and despised small towns where everyone knew everyone else’s business.