Blame It on Paris (26 page)

My, this was pleasant.

Will swallowed bile, swallowed some more bile, then swallowed again. It'd be so easy to answer that. So easy to defend himself, to get angry, to take on the battle Jason was inviting. Instead he said, “I'm sorry you lost her.”

And then thought, uh-oh. Jason opened his mouth, closed it, didn't seem to know what to say or do.

Will figured that was it, he was either going to get punched out or things were going to calm down. Given that he'd screwed up absolutely everything else today, he figured it was going to go the wrong way.

“K
ELLY
…”
Her mom shot in the back screen door. “You were right.”

“About what?” Kelly was in the kitchen to grab a fresh roll of paper towels and a new tray of brownies.

“He's here.”

This batch of brownies was sticking harder than the last. Kelly had to dig in the spatula at the edges. “Didn't I tell you he'd come?”

“Okay, yes, you did.” Her mom leaned against the counter. “He's a good guy,” she said slowly.

“I told you that, too.”

“Yeah, well, you came home from Paris all different. Some of it
had
to be him. Maybe I didn't want to believe it was about me and your father so much. It was a lot easier to believe that Will was at fault.”

Kelly glanced at her mom again. “And now? Do you still feel that way?”

“Now, I guess I wouldn't have any trouble loving a man who would walk on water for my daughter. Which, just for the record, is exactly what he was doing a minute ago. Jason found him, and I believe Jason was drinking a fair amount before he showed up this afternoon. If Will were my boyfriend, I'd probably go out there and find some subtle way to rescue him.”

“Holy kamoly, were you waiting for an invitation before telling me?” Kelly left the brownie tray and the paper towels and galloped outside.

She had no problem finding the guys. The neighborhood, being the neighborhood, was never quiet at a gig like this unless there was something fascinating worth being quiet for.

Under an old elm tree, near the birthday present table—and in the shade of one of the noisier poker games—Jason was sprawled on the ground, Will crouched next to him.

No one was going anywhere near the two except for Kelly, who hadn't run faster since high school track.

Will felt her shadow, looked up immediately with panicked eyes. “Kelly, I never touched him. I think he'd had a fair amount to drink. And he was standing in the sun. And—”

“I'm guessing that's right. He never could handle much alcohol.”

“He's having a real tough day,” Will said.

“Aren't we all?” Any other time, a dozen people would have helped them. Instead, both families watched the two of them shift Jason over to a cool grassy spot in the shade.

“Need a lukewarm damp cloth. Maybe a thermometer. If this is just passing out from drinking, it's one thing,” Will said. “But if it's heat related, we'd better figure it out pretty quick.”

Will took his pulse. Kelly wanted to shake her head, not surprised Will was taking charge even with her pistol of an ex. Minutes later, Jason's face and neck were being sponged down with lukewarm water. His pulse and temperature revealed nothing out of the ordinary. The diagnosis was too much beer too early in the day, for a guy who was already hot under the collar.

Jason's sisters got around to moving in, then. A measure of their acceptance of Will, whether Will knew it or not, was their exchanging some basic dialogue with him, even a second of laughter.

“Come on, you,” Kelly ordered Will, once the crisis was over and Jason was in his family's hands. In an ideal world, she'd serve him a glass of lemonade and hang out at the party with him, but nothing was ideal today. Everybody brought food and drink to these neighborhood parties, but kitchen detail—since it was her mom's birthday—fell on her for this one. There was no end to trash pickup or delivery of more food.

Since she was doing it, Will was doing it. The chores were a major comedown for a guy from the other side of the tracks—mopping up spills, serving the seniors, picking up paper plates and pop cans, carting trash. But Will never left her side.

“Don't be angry,” Will said. “I know you told me not to come.”

“It's all right. I knew you would, and I really need to talk with you besides. I found the guy you were looking for, Will. It just came together this morning, in fact.”

“Wait.
How
did you know I'd be here? And what guy?”

“John Henry.” They both had to stop in front of the seniors. Anyone over sixty-five expected to be waited on in this crowd, even if they could outrun and outdance the younger generations by miles. Beer, lemonade, pop and ice water were delivered. Will brought up the rear with a trash bin.

“You were right about him, Will. There are missing periods of time. It seems he wasn't John Henry when he started out in Peoria, but Jackson Henry. Jack. Went to Northwestern, like he told you. Majored in economics, mastered in business. Aced the school thing, just like he claimed.”

“
How
did you know I was going to be here?” Will persisted.

She ignored him. His employee problem was of real importance—for him and for her, she thought. “But he took a job with DynCal. You must have read their story. Not at an Enron level, but upper management was still scooping in profits, making their report to stockholders sound better than it was. Your John Henry was fired. Disappeared. Then reinvented himself.”

“Wait…” Will was trying to carry two filled trash bags at once. He stashed them in the party garbage containers, then caught up with her at a breakneck pace in spite of the heat. “So. You knew I'd come…”

Kelly was well aware of the family and neighborhood watching Will breaking his butt, doing all the cleanup. “Apparently your John Henry changed his name—legally—when he moved to South Bend. He's doing a good job for you?”

“Too good. Something just didn't seem real. That's what made me nervous.” Will finally gave up and pursued her topic instead of his—at least for now. “You do damned good work, brown eyes.”

“I know I do.” For that smug comment, she got a kiss. On the nose. Which was better than no kiss, but only by a hair. On the other hand, she figured Will realized that PDAs on the home turf in the presence of Jason's family was never going to sell too well. “So what do you think you're going to do about this John Henry, Will?”

“Fire him.”

By then they had returned to the kitchen. She was handing him a tray of cookies and another of brownies to take back out, but now she frowned. “Wait a minute—”

“Kel, a soft heart doesn't work in business. The guy lied. He's responsible for money. I can't have it.”

“But he didn't necessarily do anything wrong in that company. Maybe they fired him because he wouldn't play crooked ball. Or maybe because he discovered what was going on. I haven't found any evidence he was part of it. And, Will…”

“What?”

She heaped another tin of cookies on top of the ones he was carrying. “I don't think it's weird or wrong that he tried to reinvent himself after making a mistake. Don't we all do that?”

He stopped. So did she. They were outside by then, both their arms full, the sun beating down on both of them, but he seemed to realize, as she did, that somehow the conversation had turned into something a whole lot more serious than the Maguire's employee. And Will tackled it head-on. “You didn't reinvent yourself because of making a mistake, Kel. You didn't make a mistake. You didn't run away and try to hide out from your problems at all. It's not the same thing.”

“In a way, it is. I was about to make a mistake—by going along with lies. Lies about who I was. Lies about who I was expected to be, in a marriage I was expected to want. And I didn't know how to get out of any of it. So I left, to give myself a chance to think and change.” She cocked her head and said gently, “You did that, too, Will. Left South Bend because you couldn't figure out how to make the situation better with your dad. That wasn't a crime. You were trying to find a way to cope.”

“It's not the same as John Henry.”

“No,” she agreed softly, and wondered how long they were going to stand there in the sun, dying from the heat, but both of them seemed to simultaneously realize that worries had been festering for both of them for too long. Maybe it wasn't the right time or place. Maybe there was no right time or place. “What's the same, though, Will Maguire, is that neither of us admires someone who can't find a better answer than running away.”

“You're implying I've been running away.”

“No. I thought that when I first knew you. Not anymore. When I was researching this John Henry for you, though, I kept thinking about us. Your employee ran away from his problems. I've been trying to come to terms with my father—you've been trying to find a way to come to terms with yours. Neither of us are runners. But neither of us are the kind who can just happily move on until we've crossed our t's and dotted our i's.”

Will started to look annoyed. And hot. “Okay. Just spit out what you're trying to say. Do you even know where you're going with this?”

Well, she hadn't known until that moment. Until the ball in her stomach turned sharp and scary. She faced him with her heart in her eyes. “I'm trying to tell you that I'll go to Paris with you, Will. Or anywhere else in the universe that you want to go. If you resolve your relationship with your dad first. No matter what you have to do. Find some way to fix it.”

“Kel. Don't try that kind of ultimatum thing. Not with me.”

She said softly, “I'd never do the ultimatum thing. With anyone but you. Because I love you, Will.”

“
Now's
a hell of a time to tell me. Hundred people around here, most of whom are watching every step I take, hoping I trip.”

She cocked her head. Until that moment, she hadn't thought he was aware of how intensely he'd been scrutinized. “I don't know how to tell you this, but you've been passing every test.”

“Only because I haven't tripped yet.”

“No. Because you're a good guy and you keep showing it.”

He put down the brownies and the cookies. Right on the ground. Walked her into the shade of her mother's young maple. “You love these people,” he said.

“I do. They've been part of my life forever. They're full of faults. And sometimes they're intrusive and annoying. But they've watched out for me. I've babysat their kids, had a bleacher seat to the rise and fall of some marriages and divorces. They're good people, Will.”

“Yeah. I can see that.”

“And I hate to tell you this,” she murmured, “but you had a great time this afternoon.”

“Picking up trash? Carrying stuff in the sun? Hauling your ex-fiancé under a tree? Being grilled and sniffed at and pried into by complete strangers?”

“Yeah, all that. You liked it all.”

He opened his mouth and then said, “Well, hell. So I did.”

She laughed. So did he.

But she was thinking her heart was feeling so full that it could pop like an overfilled balloon if she wasn't careful. To lose Will now would hurt more than she could bear.

But they really weren't in Paris anymore. And somehow, as hard and fast as they were both moving, trying to change things, trying to fix things, they weren't finding the answers that would enable them to be together.

And they were running out of time.

 

W
ILL STOPPED
by Kelly's house Wednesday at lunch. She had left a phone message, asking him to make some decisions before she pushed ahead on some renovation projects. He couldn't carve out more than an hour, but he'd shucked his suit coat and was carrying a fast-food hamburger as he waded through the sea of vehicles on the street.

He charged up the walk and poked his head in the door. “Kel?”

He could hear a buzz saw upstairs, the sound of hammering and sanding coming from the kitchen, but Kelly must have heard him above the general din, because she came bounding out of the kitchen area, looking very happy. “You're here! I'm so glad you could make the time. I've got a bunch of stuff to show you.”

“I'm okay with your judgment, you know. Told you that already. Your taste's better than mine.”

“Well, yes,” she teased. “But it's your money, hotshot, and I don't want to waste it.”

Mentally he'd been holding his breath when he charged through the door. The whole party for her mom on Saturday was still fresh in his memory. He'd wanted to come through for her. And he thought he had. After all, he hadn't punched out Jason and he seemed to have been grudgingly accepted by her wild clan of friends and family.

That was what he'd hoped for.

But he wasn't a man with any tolerance for ultimatums, especially regarding his father. He'd wanted to hear that she'd come back with him to Paris, but not with strings attached. And hell and a half, but the string that frustrated him wasn't her ultimatum business. It was seeing how happy Kel was
here.

She loved the damn place. She
was
loved.

Kidnapping her to Paris sounded romantic and wonderful and perfect. What the hell did they need anyone else for? They had each other.