Page 37 of A Family Affair: The Vow
“Vic. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
He slid into his chair, picked up a pencil. “Don’t worry about it.” Rachel Darlington was never going to see him as anything but a means of escape from her world. She didn’t want him for anything but the occasional lovefest and even that bothered her I-deserve-better-than-you conscience. Fine, got it. The sooner he accepted the truth, the easier it would be to move on. Somehow. Maybe.
“I think we should talk about this.” She licked her lips, once, twice, pushed out words likemoving forwardandunderstanding our boundaries. “Vic? Don’t you have anything to say?”
“What’s left to say, Rae? You’re not interested in a relationship with me. Got it. The other night was just about white-hot sex. Agreed.” If he kept his voice even and his expression bland, maybe he’d eventually convince himself the words were true. Probably not. “No more white-hot sex. You called it a mistake that shouldn’t have happened and couldn’t happen again.” That was pretty much exactly what she’d said, he’d burned that one into his soul.
“So...”
Why was she staring at him as though she thought he should say more? What else was there to say? “So, we’re good. Message received. From now on, we’re business associates, period.” He scrolled to the next inventory item, kept his gaze on the computer screen. “Is there anything else?”
She hesitated several seconds before she responded. “No, nothing else.” And then she was gone, taking with her the slim hope he’d had that they might actually share more than a night together.
21
The Bleeding Hearts Society was an interesting mix of people with a philosophy that focused on beautifying the town, helping others, and providing support and not always the tangible kind. Rae had attended her share of meetings but none where the participants were knitting, puzzle making, and eating while discussing agendas. How could the woman who was knitting the sweater for her newest granddaughter focus on counting stitches and paying attention to the details for the upcoming Christmas Drive? No idea but she managed it, and not only that, she made suggestions that were helpful.
“We could hold the silent auction and use the proceeds to purchase items for those on our list.” The woman with the knitting needles glanced at Rae, offered a smile. “What we could really use is someone with Rachel’s clout. Could you reach out to your business associates and ask them for donations? It could certainly help. And isn’t there a tax write-off for charitable contributions of some sort? I don’t know about that sort of thing, but I’m sure you do. I’ll bet there are a lot of people who might be willing to help if you asked them.”
“If you tell me what you’re interested in, I’m happy to make calls.”
Mimi Pendergrass, the town’s mayor and president of the Bleeding Hearts Society, pushed her red glasses to the top of her salt-and-pepper head, narrowed her gaze on Rae. “I think that’s why we’re looking to you, Rachel. You have contacts and you’ve been working in the business arena for a lot of years. So, we’d like your thoughts on that. It’s not that people don’t want to help out, especially during the holidays, but most don’t knowwhatto do other than the usual bake sale and small-ticket items. Of course, a few of our anonymous donors go overboard with the children’s gifts.” She shook her head and her red ball earrings bounced. “But maybe you’ll have other ideas. Certainly, cash donations are wonderful, and there’re clothing items for the entire family… Possibly something to pamper the mother. Body lotions, soaps, facial creams? A pair of extra-soft socks?” Her laughter filled the room, spun into a sigh. “Books.”
“I could offer haircuts for the children and mothers…and the fathers if you’d like.” This from an attractive woman with dark hair and a perfect complexion. Why had she hesitated when she mentioned the fathers?
“Thank you, Natalie.” Mimi Pendergrass nodded. “The group certainly appreciates your offer.” She eyed the people at the table as if to dare any of them to dispute her comment.
“Yes, Natalie. Thank you. That’s a great idea.” The knitter’s pinched lips and short tone said maybe that was not 100% true.
“I think that’s a very thoughtful idea and a generous donation of your time.” Christine Desantro smiled at the dark-haired woman named Natalie. “Let’s add that to our list.” She glanced at Rae. “I imagine you have a lot of affiliations with various businesses and we’re happy for whatever you can do. Men and women’s clothing, shoes, boots, coats. Children’s clothing would be a huge help. They grow so fast and we’d appreciate anything you can do.”
“Yes, I’ll definitely reach out. I know people.” At least she had known people before she lost her job. But certainly, that didn’t mean her former associates wouldn’t return her phone calls. Did it? Well, she guessed she’d find out if the friendship she thought they shared extended beyond work.
“Good idea, Rae.” This from Pop Bonito, the most energetic senior citizen she’d ever met. “We’re also going to need help buying gifts and I know a lot of you people do the online version so this old soul can’t help with that, but there’s organizing, the spreadsheets, the wrapping… The pizzelles that go with the wrapping.” He winked at Rae. “Pizzelles are my specialty.
“We’ll put you down for pizzelle making, Pop. Just like we do every year.” Mimi nodded toward Christine who jotted in a white notebook.
The meeting continued for another twenty minutes before they broke off to chat and enjoy more goodies. Rae couldn’t resist another lemon bar and two more pizzelles. It felt good to be involved with something that could help someone in need and had nothing to do with personal gain. Rae was thinking about this as she left the building and headed toward her car. The wind had kicked up and she almost didn’t hear the woman behind her.
“Excuse me, Rae. Do you have a minute?”
Rae turned, spotted the woman who’d come to Vic’s office and invited him to her mother’s house for lasagna and chocolate cream pie. Monica Whitmore. Sixth-grade science teacher. Girl-next-door beautiful with blonde hair, curves, and the most perfect complexion. Why wouldn’t Vic want to be with her when the woman obviously adored him? Throw a potential mother-in-law’s cooking into the mix and why would he say “no”? Rae forced a smile, settled her gaze on the brightness in the woman’s blue eyes. “Hello. Monica, isn’t it?” Of course, she knew the woman’s name, first and last, had wondered about her since that day in Vic’s office.
“Yes, that’s exactly correct. You have a very good memory.” Her pink lips pulled into a tiny smile, her voice shifted with feeling. “This is a bit awkward, but I have to say it because if I don’t…” She shrugged, bit her bottom lip. “If we don’t make our wishes known, how can anything change? So, I’d like to ask what your relationship to Vic is in a personal capacity.”
“A personal capacity? What do you mean?” Oh, Rae knew exactly what the woman meant, could tell from the way Monica Whitmore clasped her hands together, knuckles white.
“I mean… Are you interested in him? Because if you aren’t...? Could you please keep your interactions to business? And if youareinterested in him, then my question is to what degree and are you the right choice for him?” A small laugh spilled from her, followed with a sigh. “I’ve been in love with Vic pretty much since the first time I saw him the summer after my freshman year in college. So handsome, rugged, kind. And those blue eyes. A person can get lost in them. But it’s the kindness that makes him stand out, that and his generosity. Did you know he gets up early in the morning after a heavy snowfall and plows the neighbors’ driveways? Who does that? I mean, who does that without getting paid, and you can’t count banana bread or chocolate chip cookies.” Another laugh, a deeper sigh. “That’s Vic. He deserves to be happy and he’s not.”
An emotion Rae refused to identify as jealousy squeezed her belly, forced out words she might later regret. “I’m guessing you think you’re the person to make him happy. The one who’s going to change his world?” She remembered the almost desperate tone in the woman’s voice when she saidCome for dinner... You won’t regret it.... I promise...
“IknowI can make him happy. But in order to do that, you have to get out of his line of vision. I saw the way he watched you that day at his office. There was suchintensityin those beautiful blue eyes. He’s never looked at me that way, and I’ve figured out why. He’s infatuated with you. You’re different. That’s all it is…”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” The woman might seem demure and incapable of uttering an unkind word, but she smelled of desperation and they were the worst kind. “You should be having this conversation with Vic, not me.”
“But I have had it with him and it’s no use. He refuses to talk about it, refuses to answeranyquestions about you. I’ve been waiting for him to notice me for years and six months ago, he finally did. Now you’re here and…” Frustration and anger seeped through her next words. “Why can’t you just leave? Or tell him you’re not interested? Can you at least do that?”
Vic would never choose a woman like this, but that didn’t mean Monica Whitmore wouldn’t find a way tomakehim choose her. “If Vic cares about you, then it doesn’t matter who comes to town or how different she is, because he’s only going to notice you. And if he doesn’t? Maybe it’s not going to happen because it was never going to happen.”
