Damaged

  ‘Then what would you be afraid of?’

  ‘That I would lose you,’ she said, fighting against the sudden tears that threatened to come.

  ‘You would never lose me, Allison. I would love you till the day I die. I know it.’

  ‘If you were to love me.’

  ‘Exactly. If.’

  Neither of them looked at anything but the sunset. By now it was kissing the top of Freedom Tower.

  ‘I know that now, Mike. I know you will always love me.’

  ‘Then what are you afraid of?’

  ‘Nothing. Everything.’

  Mike turned her face to his. It was bathed in the pink light of the waning sun, and he thought he’d never seen anyone so exquisite. ‘Can you be more specific?’

  It took a moment. Then she whispered, ‘I’m afraid you would die. Like my mother. I could never go through that kind of suffering again.’ She was weeping now. ‘You see, these feelings I have for you, they’re so deep, so intense, that, if I let them, they would swallow me up.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean because those are my feelings, too. But I’m tired of fighting; tired of pretending love is a hypothetical. I now realise you’re the woman I’ve been looking for my whole life.’

  He kissed her eyes and tasted the salt of her tears. ‘Dare,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Dare to love me back.’

  He drew her into a kiss that would have never ended if they had not been sitting on a bench at Kennedy’s, which happened to be filled with Allison’s family and friends. Neither of them cared that they were the object of knowing glances.

  ‘Promise me,’ she said when she found her voice. ‘Promise me that if I let myself love you, you will not die and leave me.’

  He looked at her for a long moment. He understood the path she had walked, understood why she asked this of him.

  ‘No one can promise that,’ he said at last. ‘But I can promise not to put myself in danger, to be careful, to think of you before I do anything to worry you. I will look both ways before crossing, I will not sky dive, I will get flu shots, I will even wear a safety belt in the garage.’

  She was laughing and crying at the same time. But Mike wasn’t finished. He stood up at attention, military style, and recited, ‘A cadet will not lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do.’ He saluted and sat down.

  Allison stared at him. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The West Point Cadet’s Oath. It doesn’t exactly fit but it’s the most sacred promise I know.’

  Allison crawled into his arms. ‘I love you, Captain Dennison. With all my heart. That is, if you love me.’

  ‘You know I do. “I love you to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.”’

  Tears streamed down Allison’s face. ‘The Cadet’s Oath and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Looks like I’ve got myself a real Renaissance man.’

  They kissed again, and every man, woman and child at Kennedy’s that night stood up and applauded.

  Mike, Peter and Allison

  Manhattan

  Peter dropped his clothes on the floor, grabbed a towel and headed into the sauna to sweat out any toxins left over from his morning workout. He was meticulous about his physique and went so far as to have his body fat measured and recorded weekly.

  A trainer came to his penthouse every morning at five. Peter saw no point in taking the time away from business to go to a gym, so he had a world-class facility built in his home. That impressive space was atop the building that housed his offices, so he was never more than a twenty-second elevator ride from turning a profit.

  To say that Peter Collins was driven would be an understatement. Yet he had always felt a bit inferior, so he worked harder than everyone else, cut every possible corner, and had the scruples of a jackal. Being number one was all that mattered to him and he didn’t care how he got there.

  Mike Dennison was one of those people who contributed to his feelings of inferiority. Mike was smart, good-looking, charismatic, and successful without even trying. Things that Peter struggled with came easily to Mike.

  The unfairness of it all infuriated Peter and motivated his desire to bring Mike Dennison down a peg or two. That enterprise was not going well at the moment. However, Peter was far from through with Allison Jones.

  The sauna was almost unbearably hot, just the way Peter liked it. He sat back and mentally reviewed the correspondence between Allison and Mike that he had been monitoring during the past month. What he had sensed, maybe even before they did, was that the two of them were in love, if there was such a thing.

  So much the better. Peter liked the stakes to be high. That way the fall would be more devastating.

  Since that night at Nobu, there had been an unspoken agreement between Allison and Mike that Peter Collins would not be a subject of discussion. Allison met privately with the IT wizard often, but she was wise enough not to share with Mike her growing excitement about the possibilities he saw for Lydia’s Closet. Peter saw a future for her business that even Allison had never imagined.

  She liked Peter. He was funny and charming, and totally invested in her business. Nonetheless, she had no illusions about him. She recognised that he was, as Mike had warned her, a womaniser. The enormous number of calls that came from women while they were working together confirmed that.

  Except for that first pass at Nobu, if you could even call it that, he had been a model of decorum with Allison. If he had shady dealings with others, he had suggested no such thing to her. And having been warned about him, she made sure she double checked all the paperwork.

  His personal life was of no concern to Allison. She was not a person who judged; she took people at face value until she had been proven wrong.

  Mike was not of the same mind. But he had had an entirely different experience with Peter. She didn’t know the details nor did she want to know. Allison was focused solely on the launch of Lydia’s Closet, which was now only three weeks away.

  The website had been designed, media buys made, merchandise completed with an inventory five times what they thought they might need in the first month of sales. Allison had visited many design schools in New York to recruit an additional workforce.

  A fresh supply of talented moms would be standing by the moment inventory needed to be replenished. Her friend Kimberly was managing the workforce, so Allison could concentrate on the big picture.

  Since Mike, Peter and Allison were working together on the launch, it was necessary for them to meet in person. They put it off as long as possible, but finally the day came.

  Mike did not call Allison that morning, as he always did. And he had been a total grump the night before. They had planned to have dinner and see a movie, but during dinner, he suddenly decided he was worn out. They got their food to go and ate alone in their respective homes.

  Allison said nothing but she was not happy.

  Mike said nothing but he was not happy.

  Despite their growing love for one another, these two strong-willed people still had not found the skill to bridge the gap when there was a disagreement. The fact that she had decided to go ahead and work with Peter, when she knew Mike was against it, continued to rankle him.

  She loved Mike with all her heart but she refused to allow anyone else to make decisions for her.

  Mike loved Allison with all his heart but he couldn’t stomach the fact that she was working with a man he knew to be a liar and a cheat.

  But neither would break the ice and talk about it.

  They arrived at the meeting separately. They sat around the big conference table next to Peter’s office and the tension was palpable.

  Peter had to work hard to hide his pleasure at the situation. He had been monitoring Allison’s calls as usual and had enjoyed the sharp exchanges about Allison working with him. He enjoyed even more the radio silence that had prevailed since early last night. No more sappy ‘I love you’, no ‘Call me on your way to work’ words. Things were going swimmingly.

&nbsp
; ‘Shall we turn off our phones and get started?’ Peter said, offering Allison the seat at the head of the table. The moment she turned off her cell phone, Peter pushed send on an email he had prepared for her earlier.

  The meeting ran efficiently with none of the parties showing any emotion other than enthusiasm for the project. Mike and his team ran through their advertising and marketing plan. It was groundbreaking. Peter grudgingly had to acknowledge that.

  Peter and his team presented their plans to take the business global. Mike was impressed but he had expected to be. He knew Peter was the best at this sort of thing, and also one of the worst when it came to simple, human decency.

  At the end of the meeting it was clear. Lydia’s Closet was indeed ready to launch.

  Mike waited at the door for Allison when the meeting broke up. She was packing up her things to join him when Peter approached.

  ‘The conference call with Bill Trainer is in five minutes. Do you want to take it here or in my office?’

  ‘What call?’ Allison signalled to Mike she’d be there in a moment. ‘I’m not aware of any call.’

  ‘I sent you an email yesterday.’

  ‘I got no email, Peter! I would remember.’

  ‘Check,’ he said. ‘I think it was about seven last night.’

  Allison turned on her phone and scrolled through the emails. There it was. The email Peter had just sent, but the time code read 7:12 p.m. the previous night.

  ‘How did I miss that? Peter, I’m sorry, but I have plans.’ She glanced at Mike, still waiting.

  ‘I’ll try to handle it myself,’ Peter replied gracefully. ‘But he mostly wants to talk about design and you’re the expert in that area.’

  Bill Trainer was in charge of the planned expansion into Australia and New Zealand. Allison knew she couldn’t miss the call. There was too much at stake. She approached Mike.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mike. I have a conference call that I have to be on. I missed the email.’

  ‘No problem.’ His face was impassive but his eyes were dark. ‘Do what you have to do. It’s business.’ Mike looked at Peter. ‘Right, Peter?’

  ‘Right,’ Peter answered. ‘You’re welcome to sit in if you feel uncomfortable with Allison handling it herself.’

  Eyes ablaze, Allison snapped, ‘I do not need help handling a business call.’

  Peter held up his hands in surrender. ‘I know that. It’s just that Mike seems concerned.’

  It was all Mike could do to keep from picking the man up and hurling him through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the conference room. ‘I’ll see you later, Allison.’

  ‘Meet you at O’Lunney’s at eight?’

  ‘See you there,’ Mike said. He left without saying goodbye to Peter.

  Mike sat in the back of O’Lunney’s, sipping a beer at their table. It was where they had been seated the night of the business meeting Allison had called, fully intending for it to be just that. It was where they both realised that the attraction they had felt that first day at Breezy Point was the real deal. It was at this table that Mike had made up his mind to spend the rest of his life with this ginger-haired dynamo, no matter what the cost.

  And it was here, tonight, that he began to worry that his confounded righteousness might blow the whole thing.

  They were to meet at eight, but he had arrived early to think things through in a place where her presence was imprinted on every space.

  She had grown up here with her crazy, wonderful Irish family. This was where she had sat curled up in a booth next to Lydia. This was one of the places where her mother had guided her to fierce independence. Although she died young, Lydia had inspired Allison to create a cottage industry fuelled by a cadre of young mothers who were devoted to their children.

  All in all, Mike thought, sipping his beer, he had been behaving like an idiot. He had let his antipathy for Peter Collins override the fact that who Allison chose to work with, where she went, and at what time, was none of his damned business.

  This devotion to her business wasn’t just about her taking Lydia’s Closet global or becoming the next Tory Burch. This was about keeping her mother alive, honouring Lydia. It was about giving women who were like Lydia a chance to live a full life without leaving their children behind.

  It struck him as he waited for her that Lydia’s Closet was not a business, but a calling. Mike’s job was to support Allison, not to judge her.

  He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. He had been carrying it around for so long, it was dusty. Well, a bit sandy, from too much time spent on Breezy Point. Since his parents had been killed, Kevin had been his only family. Without realising it, the two had been absorbed into the warmth and joy that was the Jones family.

  The whole Jones clan wrote to Kevin at the front. He Skyped with the group every Sunday after he had his private talk with his brother, which mostly involved his urging Mike to put a ring on Allison’s finger.

  Sitting at the table in O’Lunney’s, Mike took out his computer and Skyped his brother. Kevin picked up on the first ring.

  ‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’ There was sleep in Kevin’s voice. The picture flickered into focus.

  ‘I’d guess it’s about four am,’ Mike said. ‘Time to get up.’

  Kevin laughed. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

  ‘Okay,’ Kevin said. ‘You sound serious.’

  ‘I just wondered how you would feel about having Allison as a sister-in-law?’

  ‘Hur-rah!’ So came the chant from a world away. ‘What took you so long?’

  ‘Scared, I guess,’ Mike admitted. He always told his brother the truth.

  ‘Yeah, I get it. But it’s good. She’s the one, Mikey.’

  ‘I know,’ Mike said. ‘Knew the minute I met her.’

  ‘Let me see it,’ Kevin said. ‘You did get a ring, didn’t you?’

  Almost embarrassed, Mike opened the box. Inside was a rare, Art Deco, two-carat, violet sapphire with two perfect diamonds on either side.

  Feeling awkward, Mike said, ‘It’s the colour of …’

  ‘… her eyes!’ Kevin crowed. ‘You devil! Who knew you had even a modicum of taste!’

  ‘So it’s good?’ Mike asked.

  ‘I may marry you myself,’ Kevin laughed.

  Suddenly, the reception on the call began to waver. Mike could hear sirens, alarms going off behind the group of soldiers who were grabbing gear and heading out of the barracks.

  ‘Men down,’ Kevin exclaimed, jumping out of bed and expertly gathering up his gear. ‘Talk later, big brother,’ he said, heading for the door and the airfield beyond.

  Mike knew what was happening. He’d been there. ‘Kevin! Remember what I taught you!’

  ‘Got it. If I’m shot down, get the hell out of there and hide. Do not be taken. Don’t worry. Kind of love you, Dude!’

  And he was gone.

  Mike stared at the ring he was about to give Allison and tried to concentrate on that joy instead of the danger his kid brother was heading into. He checked his watch. It was nine thirty!

  He checked for messages from Allison. Nothing. ‘Damn you, Peter Collins,’ he muttered under his breath as he dropped money on the table.

  He stuffed the ring in his pocket and left the bar.

  Allison was in the back of an Uber, speeding towards O’Lunney’s. She checked her phone for what seemed like the twentieth time. Still no response to her texts and when she called Mike, it went straight to voicemail. It was nearly ten o’clock; well past the time she was to meet him.

  She had lost track of time during the call with the man who would handle expansion into the Asia–Pacific market. He had wanted to know everything … what designs had sold first in the shop, what new products would be offered, would they be made from patterns or cut freeform? He seemed interested in every aspect of her business.

  Peter, who had led the conversation, seemed to feel all these questions were u
sual when opening markets abroad. So she had plugged along, answering questions like she was on a television quiz show.

  It wasn’t until the call had finished, and she and Peter were congratulating one another, that she even remembered her date with Mike.

  He would be furious, especially since she stood him up because she was with Peter. Mike had been in a bad mood to begin with. Although he had handled his presentation of the advertising plan perfectly, she could tell he was one wrong look away from going over the conference table and throttling Peter. She could only imagine how he would be now that she had not shown up for their date.

  The familiar lights of O’Lunney’s materialised ahead. She felt sure he would not be there but she held out a slim hope that he would understand. It was, as he had said, business. She asked the driver to wait.

  Mike was gone, as she had known he would be. She got back into the car and gave the driver Mike’s home address.

  As they sped through the darkened city, her anxiety began to turn to frustration, then anger. Was this the way it would always be? Her tiptoeing around Mike’s likes and dislikes? Was he going to tell her who to do business with and when? And if he was as invested in her business as he said he was, why didn’t he stay? And why didn’t he wait? Or leave a message with the bartender? Or call her and leave a message?

  By the time the driver pulled up in front of Mike’s brownstone, Allison was as furious as she would have been had she been the one stood up.

  Peter had just finished dinner at the long, lacquered table in his dining room. The custom-made masterpiece could comfortably seat sixteen, but he usually dined alone. His diet was sparse, prepared by a private chef trained at the Culinary Institute, who carefully calculated the proper amounts of fat, carbohydrates and protein.

  The chef cleared the table the moment Peter removed the napkin from his lap. Peter picked up his cell phone and hit a button. Bill Trainer was immediately on the line.

  ‘Peter, what the hell was that all about?’ Trainer said. ‘Allison must think I’m an idiot, asking all those questions.’

  ‘Not at all. She’s green, Bill.’