She tried to read on the long flight, watched movies without seeing them, finally resorted to drinking. She arrived at Logan Airport in Boston on a commuter flight from New York twenty-six hours later, weary in body and spirit and more than slightly inebriated.
Which may have accounted for her explosive burst of tears when she found the pile of Hermès luggage in the middle of her living room floor. She wasn’t sobbing because someone had broken into her home, nor was she lamenting the fact that privacy no longer existed. What made her collapse in tearful prostration was the note that had been left on top of the luggage. The heavy white stock bore the initials DGK centre top in a dark blue modern font, the message written in a broad, heavy scrawl in matching dark blue ink.
Wear these sometime and think of me – of us.
Fondly,
Dominic
She finally stopped crying when she ran out of tears.
The next day, she even managed to smile the tiniest bit when she dragged her laptop onto her bed, booted it up and checked her email.
Dominic had responded to her letter, even though he shouldn’t have. Even though he’d tried to talk himself out of answering her for the better part of the night. He didn’t mention the part where she’d said she couldn’t lose her wits and reason completely, or the part about how wonderful it had been. Or the part about the madness. He didn’t mention any of that because she was the clusterfuck in his head, his burning temptation, his road to ruin and he understood.
He kept it simple:
I like the part where you adore me, but that part about my frozen heart. Ouch. FYI as you can see above I’ve changed my personal email address and my personal cell phone number. In case you ever want to call or write me.
Miss you,
Dominic
Then she acted like a mature, rational adult, opened the bottle of Krug that had been set on top of the luggage pile in her living room and that she’d had the good sense to refrigerate despite her monumental grief, and drank it down for her breakfast at two o’clock.
Nana said, ‘You’ve been drinking,’ when she called her.
‘I’m celebrating being back home.’
‘Did you enjoy yourself?’ Nana had just received notice by personal messenger of an anonymous gift of two million dollars for the local school. A well-dressed older man had arrived in a limo two hours ago, introduced himself as an attorney from a private educational foundation and informed Nana – over her coffee and homemade oatmeal cookies that he had politely accepted when it was clear that he would have rather gotten back into his limo and returned to the Duluth airport – that the foundation was donating the substantial sum to their tiny school … for confidential reasons. Which was often the case with private foundations, he calmly explained. And she, Mrs Roy Hart, had been designated Administrator of the funds.
Since Nana hadn’t been born yesterday, or even the day before, and no one had ever bestowed such a magnificent sum on their backwater area school, she surmised that either things had gone really well in Hong Kong or they’d gone badly and the gift was in the way of reparations.
‘I did enjoy myself. It was a good experience,’ Kate said, her voice neutral, or marginally neutral, considering the bottle of champagne.
Not exactly a definitive answer. ‘No regrets, sweetie?’
‘Not a single one.’
‘Why don’t you come home for a few days?’ Nana suggested. ‘Rest a little after your busy two weeks abroad? I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.’
It took a fraction of a second for Kate to reply, her amorous breakfasts in bed with Dominic on The Glory Girl still vivid in her memory. ‘Maybe I will in a week or so,’ she said, a shade too brightly. ‘I have to see about getting a job. I don’t have to. I was really well paid, but sitting around doesn’t appeal to me.’
Poor baby, something was wrong. ‘I miss you, sweetie. So come as soon as you can. By the way,’ Nana said, hoping to lighten Katie’s mood, ‘your pictures were a big hit at the bridge club. Steam was coming out of Jan Vogel’s ears. You did good.’
Kate laughed, liked that she could still laugh. Found it life-affirming that she could still laugh. And in homage to all those self-help articles in women’s magazines that appear with great regularity because she wasn’t the only woman scarred by love, she sat up a little straighter which took an extra second or so after a bottle of champagne, lifted her chin and said under her breath, Fuck you Dominic Knight!
‘I didn’t hear you, dear.’
‘I said, I’ll be home in a couple weeks, Nana. As soon as I check out my job offers. You know I had six companies who wanted me.’
‘You deserve all your success. You worked hard for it. Now remember to give me a little warning and I’ll have hot caramel rolls waiting for you when you walk in the door.’
‘Umm … tempting.’ Kate blew out a breath, the thought of Nana’s caramel rolls making her mouth water. ‘But I better look for a job first. Soon, Nana. I’ll be there soon.’
‘I’m always here if you need something, sweetie. Just give me a call anytime, if you want to talk or you’re at loose ends or bored.’
‘Will do. Thanks, Nana.’
Kate put away her phone a moment later, lay back on her pillow and felt her restlessness lessen, the tumult in her brain mellow out. Nana was her rock, her source of unconditional love, a best friend, a shoulder to cry on. The most tolerant person she knew – besides Gramps. He’d always said that he’d killed so many people and so many people had tried to kill him that he never sweated the small stuff.
Everything was small if you were still alive.
Which clearly put Dominic into perspective, she decided. She’d enjoyed his company, the two weeks had been beyond fabulous. But it was over; her life would go on very nicely without him – thank you very much.
She even half believed it.
She believed it enough to email him back.
Thanks for the numbers. It’s good to be home. Miss you too.
How totally adult was that?
Casual, super-casual.
She did a quick fist pump, threw back her covers and leapt out of bed, debating what food she wanted delivered. She didn’t have to worry about Dominic scowling if she ate nothing but junk food.
It was a cardinal act of liberation, she decided sometime later, lying among the debris of fast food wrappers and boxes scattered on her bed, stuffed with non-nutritious, highly processed, additive-clogged food.
She was moving on with her life.
Keep reading for an extract from the next book in the series
Knight’s Retreat
published in June 2013
KNIGHT’S RETREAT
Three months later: April
Dominic stood outside Nana’s door, waiting for someone to answer his knock. It was cold in northern Minnesota. He should have considered the weather before he left Morocco; he was dressed in jeans, a short-sleeved T-shirt and sandals. The car he rented at the Duluth airport had been warm so he hadn’t noticed until he was standing in the wind on this porch overlooking a lake that was still covered with ice.
The door suddenly opened.
‘I’m not giving the money back if that’s why you’re here,’ the elderly woman snapped.
Dominic smiled, thought of Kate, knew where she’d learned to be outspoken. ‘Obviously you know who I am.’
‘You hide that private foundation real well. It took me over twenty hours to sift through all the shadow companies before I found your name on a document.’ She smiled. ‘Love the web. Opens up the whole world, even to people who live in the sticks.’ She opened the door wider. ‘Come on in. You must be here for a reason and’ – she glanced at his sandalled feet – ‘you’re not dressed for the weather.’
‘It was warm when I got on the plane.’
‘What are you, a three-year-old kid?’ she said over her shoulder, leading him down a hallway.
‘I had a lot on my mind, Mrs Hart.’
‘Call me
Nana. Everyone does. At least you have an excuse. I suppose what you had on your mind was Katie.’
‘Call me Dominic and yes, she’s been on my mind.’
‘I have a cousin named Dominic. It’s a pretty common name up here. Have a seat.’ She waved him to a chair in a living room that hadn’t changed since the eighties. A hotchpotch of upholstered furniture, nothing matching, framed photos everywhere: mostly Katherine with her trike, bike, motorcycle – his brows went up at that – high school graduation, the prom – he scowled at the good-looking kid standing beside her – two recent ones with her smiling on campus; one or two of Nana, one of a man in uniform he assumed was Roy Hart, Gramps to Katherine, several that might be Katherine’s mother, the resemblance was strong.
‘I was wondering if I’d see you,’ Nana said, sitting down opposite Dominic in a matching BarcaLounger. ‘Thanks, by the way, for the money. I’ve already told you I’m not giving it back if that’s why you’re here. With all the cuts in public education, the district needs the money. I didn’t mention it to Katie either. There was no reason to tell her. She’s not here, if that’s why you came, and I’m not telling you where she is.’
He knew where she was. That wasn’t why he was here. ‘I was wondering how she’s doing.’
‘How do you think she’s doing? A young handsome man like you with bags of money. You’d turn any young girl’s head. Leave her alone. You’re out of her league.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Then you choose to be.’
Silence. Then he said, ‘I’m not sure about that.’
‘Too long a pause, my boy. My baby girl needs someone who doesn’t have to think about loving her.’
Dominic visibly flinched at the word ‘love’.
‘There, you see. You can’t do it.’
‘I’d like to try.’
‘Then tell her.’
‘She won’t talk to me.’
‘Smart girl,’ Nana said, her grey perm stirring with her brisk nod. ‘She was unhappy for quite a while. She’s better now, if you really want to know. If you want to help her, you’ll leave her alone. She’ll get over you. You’re not the only good looking man in the world.’
He was pleased to hear Kate was fine; he was displeased to hear she was fine without him. But just talking about her made him happy, so he smiled and said, ‘She’s been doing well in her new business, I hear.’
Nana scowled. ‘Don’t try and charm me. I’m an old lady. I’ve seen it all.’
‘I’d like to talk about her if you don’t mind.’
Blunt, honest, a quiet humility in his gaze. ‘Would you like a drink? You look a little peaked.’
‘It was a long flight.’
‘Come downstairs, I’ll give you a little pick-me-up. My husband Roy made my still years ago when he came back from Nam. He needed something to take his mind off … well, you know what went on over there. He showed me everything I know about making vodka and mine’s damn good, if I do say so myself.’
‘No problems with law enforcement?’ Dominic followed her down the stairs to the basement. She was thin and spry at seventy-five, taking the stairs with a little spring in her step.
‘I know the sheriff and his father, and grandfather, for that matter, and they know me. I give ’em a few bottles now and then. Everything’s copacetic. Sit over there at that table. I’ll get us a drink. Blueberry OK with you?’
He almost smiled, remembering his mother’s face when he’d brought up Nana’s hobby at lunch that day in Hong Kong. ‘Blueberry would be just fine,’ he politely replied.
Two drinks later, after Dominic had asked Nana about Roy, about Kate as a child, about small-town living that was like an alien universe to him; after he’d heard about the new roof on the gym thanks to his gift and the eight teachers they’d been able to hire back with five-year contracts, Nana set her glass down, speared him with her gaze and said, ‘You must have set Katie up in business.’
‘Not personally. Six times removed. I’ve been able to send a few clients her way, but her success is her own. I have nothing to do with it.’
‘She liked the flowers you sent when she opened her office. Purple iris, I heard. Three or four baskets.’
It took him a fraction of a second to answer, the room in the Garden House suddenly too vivid, rocking his world. ‘I’m glad she liked them.’
‘She’s making lots of money.’
‘That’s the idea.’
‘Why doesn’t she know you’ve done this for her? It’s clear as day.’
‘You raised her not to be cynical. She’s remarkably innocent despite her intellectual accomplishments. It’s one of her great charms.’
‘Hmpf. From an arch cynic.’
‘I didn’t have the advantage of her upbringing. She was fortunate.’
‘So you’re saying money doesn’t buy happiness.’
‘Pretty much.’
‘And you’re wondering if she can fill that void for you.’
‘I don’t know. She’s just on my mind a lot. I thought I’d come and see how she was doing, that’s all. I should go. I’ve taken up enough of your time.’ He came to his feet.
‘I won’t ask you to promise me you won’t pester her because I can see that you will. But she’s like her grandpa. You mess with her, she fights back.’
He smiled faintly. ‘I’m aware of that.’
‘You mess with her and I’ll make trouble for you. Roy came back from Nam a little bit crazy and some of it rubbed off. Just so you know.’
‘I have no intention of hurting her.’
Nana softly exhaled. ‘I don’t envy you. You don’t know what you want.’
His smile was sweetly boyish. ‘I’m trying to figure it out.’ He pointed at the bottle on the table. ‘If you ever want to go into business, let me know. Your vodka is first class. I’m always looking for new investments.’
She smiled. ‘You trying to buy your way to my granddaughter?’
He laughed. ‘I’m not so foolish. Katherine didn’t care about money. I’m assuming she learned that from you.’
Nana met his gaze. ‘Life’s about almost everything but money. I’m not saying you don’t need enough to keep a roof over your head, but after that’ – she shrugged – ‘it’s about the people you love. That’s what makes life worth living. Sorry about the lecture. I’m an old school teacher. It’s in the blood.’
‘I don’t mind. And let me know what more you need for the school. I mean it. My educational foundation is one of my pet projects. Let me give you my cell phone number.’
‘I already have it.’
Dominic’s brows shot up.
‘Where do you think my baby girl learned to love computers? There’s no privacy left in the world. I don’t have to tell you that.’
Dominic laughed. ‘In that case, give me a call if you need something.’
‘Or if I hear something from Katie?’
Kate would have recognized that small startle reflex. ‘I’d like that,’ Dominic said a moment later. ‘I like to know how she’s doing. Thanks for the drink and conversation.’
Nana stood on the porch and watched the wealthy young man walk through the snow in his sandals, get into his rental car and drive away.
She’d never met anyone so alone, she thought.
C. C. Gibbs, Knight's Mistress
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