Twenty Wishes

  Mark turned to Anne Marie. “You’re the one who started this Twenty Wishes business.”

  “Four of us—all widows—came up with the idea together,” Anne Marie said.

  “Do you have any wishes?” Ellen asked him.

  “Yes, indeed,” Mark said. “Several.”

  “Have you ever made a list?”

  “I can’t say I have, Ellen. Do you recommend it?”

  “Oh, yes,” Ellen returned seriously. “It’s helpful if you have a real list. Otherwise you might forget.”

  “That’s true,” Mark concurred.

  “Your heart has to let your head know what it wants,” the child added.

  “You sound very wise for one so young,” Mark said, raising his eyebrows. “Where did you learn this?”

  “Anne Marie told me. It’s true, too. I didn’t even know how much I wanted a mom until I put it on my list of Twenty Wishes.”

  “You wrote that down?” Anne Marie asked, apparently surprised by this revelation.

  Ellen nodded, her eyes downcast.

  “You never showed me that.”

  “I know,” the girl said. “I wrote your name in pencil beside my wish ’cause if I could choose my own mom, I wanted you.”

  Anne Marie slid her arm around Ellen. “If I could have any little girl in the world, it would be you.”

  “Anne Marie’s adopting Ellen,” Barbie explained for Mark’s benefit.

  “We’d better scoot.” Anne Marie smiled. “Like Ellen said, we’re on our way to karate.”

  “Karate Kid and Mom, the sequel,” Barbie joked.

  “After that, we’re going to see Melissa and help her work on wedding plans,” Ellen said excitedly.

  “That’s my stepdaughter,” Anne Marie told Mark.

  “I might get to be in the wedding! Melissa said she needs a little girl to help serve the cake and Anne Marie said what about Ellen and Melissa said she thought that was a good idea.”

  “I think it’s a grand idea myself.” Barbie knew the difficult relationship Anne Marie had with her stepdaughter and was delighted by the way things had changed.

  They left, and Barbie sat down in one of the chairs vacated by her friends. “So,” she murmured, “you only had eyes for me last March, huh?” She reached for a leftover French fry and dipped it in ketchup.

  Mark avoided her gaze. “I didn’t think you’d let that pass.”

  “That was just the third time we met.” If it took all night, she’d force him to admit how he felt about her.

  “And?”

  “And you’re crazy about me,” she insisted.

  “I already told you I’m willing to go along for the ride, however long it lasts.” His voice didn’t betray a hint of sentiment.

  “Monday-night movies.”

  He shrugged casually. “Sure.”

  “Lap swims on Tuesday and Thursdays.”

  He sloughed that off, as well. “We could both use the exercise.”

  “Dinner at my house tonight.”

  He hesitated. “Sure. Why not?”

  Barbie took a crumpled hamburger wrapper and smoothed it out. Then with the ketchup-dipped fry, she drew a heart. “What am I getting out of this relationship?” she asked in conversational tones. “So far, I seem to be the one doing all the giving.”

  Mark tensed. “I’ve asked myself that from the start. I told you anytime you want out, all you need to do is say the word.”

  “Just like that?” she asked and snapped her fingers.

  “Just like that,” Mark echoed, snapping his own.

  “No regrets?”

  “None,” he assured her.

  “No explanations?”

  He shook his head.

  “No looking back, either.”

  “Not on my end.”

  “What if that isn’t enough for me?” she asked.

  His face tightened and his eyes went hard. “Let’s clear the air right now.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Exactly what do you want from me?” he demanded, none too gently.

  Taking the same French fry, she scribbled out the heart. This discussion wasn’t one she’d intended to have and yet she couldn’t stop herself. Her pulse raced. She was afraid that by pressuring him for a response she’d put everything on the line. She’d chosen the one sure way to lose Mark.

  “I’m not sure what I want,” she replied, unable to look at him.

  “Yes, you are,” he countered, “otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “My list of wishes…” she said, and her voice faltered.

  “Oh, yes, those Twenty Wishes you and your friends have.” His tone had a mocking quality, which made her furious.

  “You might think they’re silly, but they’re not!” she insisted.

  “I didn’t say they were,” he said calmly. He could be so difficult to talk to sometimes. Squaring her shoulders, she met his eyes. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I want.”

  “Good. I was hoping you would.”

  He wouldn’t like this. The truth would probably scare him off. Still, it was a risk Barbie had to take. “I want to be loved,” she said. There, it was out.

  “By me?” he asked.

  “You’re the one I love.” She might as well go for broke, and he could either reject her right now or accept her.

  For a long time Mark didn’t say anything, and when he did, regret weighted each word. “I don’t want to love you,” he said slowly.

  So that was how it was going to be.

  Barbie swallowed painfully. Hard as it was, she’d rather he was honest. “Thank you for not leading me on,” she managed to say through quivering lips. She stood up to leave.

  Mark caught her hand. “I don’t want to love you,” he repeated, “but I do.”

  “You love me?” She could hardly believe it, yet she knew it was true. He let his love shine from his eyes and his fingers tightened around hers.

  “I have practically from the first moment I saw you at that theater.”

  “You tried to kick me out, remember?”

  “That’s because you scared me to death,” he said wryly. “But regardless of what I said or did, you wouldn’t go away.”

  She offered him a shaky smile and sat back down, dragging her chair close to him, their knees touching.

  “Then before I knew it,” Mark muttered, his eyes closed, “I was dreaming about you.”

  Barbie savored every word.

  “For the first time since the accident, I’d wake up each morning with a sense of…hope. I’d go to the movies and hope you’d stay away and at the same time, I’d hope you’d show up—and then I’d curse myself for being so stupid. Acting like that, I was just looking for more heartache.”

  Breathless, Barbie didn’t trust herself to speak. This was everything she’d craved, everything she wanted to hear.

  “I’m grateful you came into my life,” Mark said and all his intensity was focused on her. “I can’t say it any plainer than that.”

  “You mean forced my way into your life, don’t you?”

  He laughed and then grew serious again. “You want my heart? You’ve got it, Barbie. You’ve had it all along.” Then he did something completely out of character. Reaching for the paper crown left behind by a birthday group, he placed it on his head and leaned over to kiss her.

  Barbie leaned back and stared at him as a chill raced down her arms. With tears blinding her eyes, she held both hands to her lips. Despite all her efforts, she doubled over and started to weep.

  “Barbie?” Mark touched her back. “What’s wrong?”

  She straightened and noticed that the paper crown sat crookedly on his head. Her wish. She’d wanted to be kissed by a prince. She’d known it was a ridiculous request—yet it had been fulfilled.

  Mark was her prince. He loved her.

  And she loved him.

  Slipping her arms around his shoulders, she hugged him with such exuberance she nearly toppled his
wheelchair. “I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.”

  “I certainly hope so,” he muttered. “Now do you think we can get out of here?”

  “What’s the matter? Is the aroma of those burgers getting to you and weakening your resolve?”

  “The only thing getting to me is you. I think it’s time you showed me what you learned on the Internet.”

  Her eyes widened. Mark didn’t need to remind her what she’d looked up weeks ago.

  All she needed to know was that he loved her.

  As much as she loved him.

  Everything else they’d figure out with a little inventiveness and a lot of time.

  Chapter 32

  Thursday afternoon, Anne Marie waited for her pulse to slow before she called Robert’s office. Even after nearly two years, the number was ingrained in her memory.

  Anne Marie knew she finally had to see Rebecca Gilroy. She didn’t want to show up without warning, so she’d decided to phone Robert’s assistant and make a formal appointment first.

  She had to know the truth before she could put this behind her—or at least in perspective.

  Was the child Robert’s? If so, she wondered why Rebecca hadn’t come forward. Robert’s son deserved part of his estate, was entitled to an inheritance. Despite the circumstances, that was only right.

  Her heart in her throat, she made the call. A moment later, she heard Rebecca’s voice.

  “This is Rebecca Gilroy. How may I help you?” The young woman, now presumably an assistant to one of the other partners, sounded businesslike and professional.

  Anne Marie took a deep breath. “Hello, Rebecca,” she said, speaking quickly. “It’s Anne Marie Roche, Robert’s wife.”

  Rebecca’s tone softened instantly. “Anne Marie, of course. How are you?”

  “Better.” Which was true. “What about you?”

  “Busy.”

  Anne Marie couldn’t tell if this was a brush-off or an indication that Rebecca couldn’t speak now.

  “I won’t keep you then,” she said, following the other woman’s lead. “I was hoping we could get together soon. Would that be possible?”

  “You and me?” Rebecca didn’t bother to conceal her surprise, or her reluctance.

  “Could we meet for lunch? When it’s convenient for you…”

  “Well, I suppose lunch would work. How about tomorrow?”

  A strange calm settled over Anne Marie. A day from now she’d know the truth, whatever it might be. She’d make this as painless as she could for all involved. Two months ago, when Melissa had told her about this, she’d wanted to hate Robert’s assistant, to view her as the manipulative other woman. She still tended to see Rebecca as a gold digger who saw her big chance when Robert and Anne Marie separated. And yet…she’d never approached the family for child support.

  Rebecca suggested a small, upscale restaurant close to Pike Place Market. Anne Marie knew it well; Robert had taken her there on a number of occasions. It catered to businessmen who wanted privacy to conduct negotiations over lunch or dinner—and the deals they negotiated obviously weren’t all business.

  Rebecca said it would have to be an early lunch and asked if eleven-thirty was okay. Anne Marie agreed.

  Rebecca must know why Anne Marie had called her. The choice of restaurant told her so. Anne Marie tried not to imagine the younger woman and Robert at the dark corner table, the one he used to reserve for their intimate lunches.

  On Friday Anne Marie arrived at eleven-fifteen, fifteen minutes early. Theresa had promised to substitute for her at the bookstore for the rest of the day. In an effort to pack as much into one free afternoon as she possibly could, Anne Marie was going shopping with Melissa after lunch.

  The wedding plans consumed every free moment Melissa had and much of Anne Marie’s time, as well. Unfortunately Melissa’s mother continued to shun her, but Anne Marie believed that once the baby was born, Pamela would have a change of heart. How could she not love her very own grandchild?

  The hostess led Anne Marie to a quiet table near the window. The restaurant typically wasn’t busy until noon and she appreciated the privacy. So far, only one other table was filled, with three men and a woman engaged in some intense discussion. Anne Marie ordered iced tea while she waited. She nervously squeezed lemon into the tea as she rehearsed her remarks.

  Rebecca got there right at eleven-thirty and was escorted to the table. “Hello again,” the other woman greeted her. She pulled out the chair across from Anne Marie.

  What struck her all over again was how very young Robert’s assistant was. Young and lovely. Her hair was a rich auburn, shoulder-length and naturally thick. She wore an olive-green skirt and matching jacket with a white silk blouse. An antique cameo—a family heirloom? a gift from Robert?—was pinned at her throat.

  “Thank you for taking the time to join me,” Anne Marie said, keeping her voice neutral.

  Rebecca didn’t respond; she opened the menu and scanned it, saying, “Perhaps we should order first.”

  “Good idea,” Anne Marie said, eager to do anything to delay this uncomfortable conversation. “By the way, this is on me.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Rebecca said with cool politeness, “but thanks.”

  Anne Marie amended her assessment of Rebecca Gilroy. She might be young and vulnerable-looking, but she had a self-confidence that wouldn’t have been out of place in someone much older.

  When the waitress came to take their order, they both chose a soup and salad combination.

  “I expect you’re here to discuss what happened between Robert and me,” Rebecca said, leaping headfirst into the conversation Anne Marie had been avoiding—until today.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought so.” Rebecca kept her eyes lowered and toyed with the spoon, belying the confidence she’d shown just moments before.

  “Did Robert lead you to believe we were divorced?” Anne Marie asked bluntly.

  “No.”

  “Had you been…physically involved before the two of us separated?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “No. We…we weren’t actually involved at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, physically—as you put it—we were.” Rebecca shrugged. “I knew the two of you were going through some difficulties and that you were working toward a reconciliation. Mr. Roche didn’t share much of his personal life with me, or anyone else for that matter. I learned you were living apart quite by accident.”

  “I see.” Her own fingers moved to the silverware. She caressed the tines of the fork as she listened.

  “We were both working lots of extra hours.”

  The muscles in Anne Marie’s throat tightened, in nervous anticipation of what Rebecca was about to tell her.

  “It was a bad time emotionally for us both. I’d recently broken up with my boyfriend, and I knew you and Robert weren’t living together anymore.”

  That was no excuse for what they’d done! Anger and pain raged within her, but Anne Marie dared not let either emotion show.

  The waitress chose that moment to bring their meals. The soup, tomato basil, smelled delicious and was accompanied by a Caesar salad with homemade croutons. Anne Marie waited until Rebecca reached for her spoon before she did.

  “As I was saying,” Rebecca said, picking up the conversation. “Both Robert and I were at a low point in our lives.”

  “And spending a lot of time together,” Anne Marie added.

  “Yes.”

  “So it was…natural for you to be attracted to each other.”

  She shrugged again. “I suppose.”

  Any appetite Anne Marie might have had vanished.

  “I’m not proud of what happened,” Rebecca said, “and I believe Robert was…ashamed of it.”

  “How long did this affair last?” Anne Marie didn’t know what had prompted the question other than the fact that she was obviously looking for more pain. “How…many times did you—”

>   “Does it matter?” She stared down at the table.

  Well, yes, it does, she wanted to say but didn’t. That night she and Robert had slept together, shortly before his death—was he still involved with Rebecca then?

  “Afterward everything changed between us,” Rebecca was saying. “We’d had a great working relationship and that was completely ruined by the affair. We tried to keep it quiet and except for that one time when Melissa walked in on us, I don’t think anyone knew.”

  She lowered her head and Anne Marie could see that this was as embarrassing for Rebecca as it was for her.

  Rebecca raised her head. “I’m surprised Melissa told you. That’s how you found out, isn’t it?”

  “She…she was very upset.”

  “Robert was, too. He was mortified. His biggest fear was that you’d learn the truth.”

  That news was of little comfort. “Had…did he…”

  “Did he what?” Rebecca pressed.

  It was increasingly difficult even to speak. “Did he see other women? Were there others?” As his personal assistant, Rebecca was in a position to know.

  Her hesitation said it all.

  “How many?” She would never have believed it. She felt shocked, grieved, that she’d misjudged him so completely.

  “One, I think,” Rebecca admitted reluctantly. She seemed unwilling to divulge any more.

  “Please,” Anne Marie said urgently. “I need to know.”

  “He had me make a reservation at a hotel by the ocean under a different name.”

  “Redford?” she asked.

  Rebecca’s gaze widened. “You know about her?”

  Her throat muscles relaxed. “That was me. Us. We…played this game.” A smile came and went, tinged with humor and relief. Memories of their getaway weekend immediately came to mind. Happy, playful memories that were in stark contrast to what she’d just experienced.

  “Okay, well, like I said, that’s the only other time. And it turns out he wasn’t cheating on you.”

  “Thank you,” Anne Marie whispered, and she meant it.

  “I should tell you that the night Melissa caught us was the last time.” She paused. “Deep down, I know that if we could do everything over again, neither of us would’ve done it.” Her eyes held Anne Marie’s. “I’m not just saying that, either. It’s the truth. If Robert were here, he’d agree.”