Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings) (25 page)

Liza pounded on her back. “You okay? Because I didn’t come all this way for you to die on me now.”

“Wh-what are y-you doing here?” Bertie managed to choke out.

“I’m your fairy godmother and I’ve come to take you to the ball.” Liza gave Bertie’s back another whack.

“Stop beating me. I’m fine. I just need some water.”

Lucy rushed to fill a glass for Bertie. “Here. Drink this.”

After several fortifying gulps, Bertie glared at Liza. “How did you know how to find me?” As if Bertie didn’t know. Gary. She knew he’d sing like a canary. Liza must’ve threatened to destroy his collection of George Michael CDs.

Liza tossed her long, blond hair over her shoulder and dropped down in a chair. “That’s not important. What’s important is that I’m here to help you.”

“Give me a break. When have you ever helped me?”

Liza leaned back and gave Bertie a sly smile. “I’m glad you asked. It’s about time I told you.”

Bertie crossed her arms and glared at Lucy. “You want to tell me what’s going on? Or am I going to have to wring it out of you?”

Lucy shuffled her feet, fascinated by the dirt embedded in the grout on the tile floor. “Please, don’t be mad. I was only try—”

“Cut her some slack, Bertha. Lucy would never betray you unless she had a really good reason. And I gave her a really good reason,” Liza interjected.

Bertie rolled her eyes. “This I’ve got to hear.”

Liza motioned for Lucy to take a seat. Lucy grabbed the bottle of wine and two more glasses and pulled up a chair. She poured a glass for herself and Liza, and refilled Bertie’s.

Lucy lifted her glass. “To old friends, new friends, and new beginnings.”

Liza said, “I’ll drink to that,” and clinked her glass with Lucy’s. Both Liza and Lucy waited for Bertie.

“Dammit, Bertie! It’s time to bury the hatchet. Now raise your glass and toast before I pour the whole bottle over your obstinate head,” Lucy ordered.

Bertie could tell she was outnumbered. Liza was grinning like a cat that caught the mouse and Lucy had her angry face in place, with scrunched nose and squinty eyes.

Bertie heaved a huge sigh. “Truce.” She raised her glass. “Now, start from the beginning.”

Liza settled back and got comfortable. “Once upon a time…” And she proceeded to tell Bertie all about the night at senior prom.

Bertie exhaled a slow breath. “Is this true?” Her gaze darted from Liza to Lucy. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Liza gave a noncommittal shrug. “I didn’t want you to know what that asshole said about you.”

“It’s true. I know I wasn’t there, but Liza told me the story that summer.” Lucy gave Bertie’s hand a squeeze. “Liza swore me to secrecy. We didn’t want to see you hurt.”

Bertie narrowed her eyes. “What else have you been hiding from me? I suppose you want me to believe I never caught you kissing Cal in our kitchen, right after my mom had died.”

“Nope. That’s all true. Except…Cal sort of started it. And I am sorry you caught us and it ruined our friendship, but I’m not sorry that it happened.”

“You can’t still be carrying a torch for Cal,” Bertie said as she sipped her wine.

“Kinda. We’ve been seeing each other. Ever since I moved back to town.”

Lucy and Liza jumped back as Bertie spewed red wine all over the table. “What! I don’t believe you. Cal never told me. He wouldn’t do…you’re lying—”

“Calm down, Bertha, before you have an aneurysm,” Liza chuckled.

Lucy grabbed a wad of paper towels and cleaned up the mess.

“Cal and I are dating, and we plan to keep on dating with or without your blessing. And as much as I know this is a lot to take in, this is
not
why I drove seven hours to speak to you.” Liza reached into her Louis Vuitton cross-body bag and pulled out a large, creamy envelope.

Bertie blanched. “Don’t tell me that’s a wedding invitation. Because I’m not sure I can handle my brother marrying you…yet.” Or Keith marrying
anybody
, her mind screamed.

“Nope. This is better.” Liza handed Bertie an engraved invitation to a kick-off party for the Keith Morgan Tennis Academy, being held at his newly renovated home on Saturday night.
This
Saturday night. Bertie scanned the names of listed sponsors and her hand trembled when she spied her name:
Bertie
Anderson, Interior Designer.
Bertie lowered the invitation to the table. “What does this mean?”

“It means we’re going to a party. This is going to be huge, Bertha. Tons of celebrities and professional tennis players are going to be there. It’s for the rejuvenation of the Jaycee Park and for the new tennis academy. This academy is going to bring in a whole lot of dough and new life to Harmony.”

“That’s wonderful for Harmony, where I no longer live and therefore no longer care about.” Bertie thought her lie rang true until she glimpsed Liza’s rolling eyes.

“You’re right, Lucy. She’s in complete denial.” Liza shook the invitation at Bertie’s nose. “Let me try and spell this out for you. The press has been invited. All kinds of press. Newspapers, magazines, Internet. They’ll be snooping and asking questions and taking pictures of the inside of that mangy old house that you managed to turn into a real jewel. And you need to be there. This could be the break you’ve been looking for. Or do you like growing old, working inside a musty sample room?”

Bertie’s mouth gaped open. She never considered it that way. This could really launch her career. This could put her on the map in the world of design.

“Finally. A lightbulb. Now point me to your closet so I can pick out what you’re going to wear.” Liza pushed her chair back and stood. “Now. We don’t have a lot of time. I want to leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

No. If she went back, then she’d have to face him. “You can’t be serious. If you think I’m going back to Harmony to some dumb party so that Keith can flaunt his perfect life and his perfect wife, you’re insane.”

Liza and Lucy grabbed Bertie by the arms and hauled her into her bedroom and into her closet.

“You’re going if I have to gag and bind you. Now zip it,” Liza snapped.

***

Keith knew the minute Bertie stepped into the grand foyer even before he laid eyes on her. The atmosphere in the room shifted and the hint of gardenias cut through the heavy colognes and aftershaves like a breath of fresh air. He was standing in a circle with Beau Quinton, his tennis coaches, and a few investors all dressed in suits. Wives and girlfriends swarmed the rooms along with other celebrities and all of Harmony, including Jo Ellen, Arlene, the Ardbuckle twins, and half the women that had chased him for months. Live music filtered through the French doors from the back patio, and the waitstaff, in black pants and stiff bow ties, passed hors d’oeuvres and champagne cocktails.

Keith felt Bertie staring at him a split second before their gazes locked. She looked even better than he remembered. And he had an excellent memory. He hadn’t dared hope that she’d come tonight, and until she walked through the door, he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding his breath.

Bertie broke eye contact first and turned her back on him. She walked away, and he felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut with a steel boot. Keith caught sight of Aunt Francesca, who had escorted Bertie to the party. She gave a little shrug and followed Bertie out of the room.

Beau Quinton gave a low whistle. “
Who
was that? Please tell me she’s single.”

Keith cut his narrowed eyes to Beau. They shared a professional friendship, respecting each other’s talents. And Keith knew Beau’s reputation. He could charm the pants off a preacher’s wife. If he breathed one more word about Bertie, Keith was going to knock his perfectly straight, white teeth out of his tanned face.

“I had no idea they grew hot little chili peppers like that in this sleepy town.” Beau’s smile slipped as he must’ve seen something in Keith’s face that alarmed him.

“Don’t even think about it. Don’t get within ten feet of her. Do you understand?” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“Chillax, dude. I’m not here to hit on your woman,” Beau said in a low whisper. “Now stop clenching your teeth and straighten your face. You’re liable to scare old ladies with that mug.”

Keith gripped Beau’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Then he looked up and waved someone over. “Arlene, I’d like you to meet Beau Quinton, quarterback for the Cherokees. He’s a big fan of green Jell-O. Tell him all about the one you make with marshmallows.” Keith was pretty sure Beau said, “fuck you” under his breath before flashing his winning smile at Arlene Tomlin.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with someone.” And Keith left the room, searching for Bertie.

He found her next to the bar on the outdoor patio, talking with another young tennis player. John or Jack. Single. Good-looking guy. Keith had seen him play. He had a shitty ranking because he had a shitty attitude and he partied more than he trained. Normally Keith didn’t care what other players did in their downtime or who they did it with. But the attention this guy was showing Bertie, in her low-cut, emerald-green dress that knotted in the front and hugged her breasts, irritated the hell out of him.

“Hey, Prince,” the young pup said as he handed Bertie a drink. “I understand that this beautiful designer here decorated your whole house.” Bertie continued to smile at Jack
ass
as the jealousy started to eat at Keith until it swarmed him and threatened to pull him under like a crocodile in a death roll.

Keith gave a curt nod and then said, “Hello, Bertie.”

Bertie stiffened. “Mr. Morgan.”

Keith’s heart stopped. It had only been three months since he’d heard her throaty voice, but it felt like an eternity. She continued to avert her gaze as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him. But when she finally looked up, her animated face appeared flat and dull, not laughing and smiling and glowing with pleasure like he remembered. Fear clenched in the pit of his stomach until he could feel himself cramping. In the past, he would always use his fear or nerves as a driving force for winning matches. But this was one match where he was down two sets and losing in the third. He had killed something in Bertie three months ago. And now he was deathly afraid that he couldn’t turn this match around on sheer drive alone. But he wasn’t giving up. He loved her too much not to fight for her.

“Bertie, would you like to dance?” But Keith wasn’t the one doing the talking. Jackass was still in the picture, enjoying the view of Bertie’s exposed cleavage.

“No,” Keith snarled. Bertie and Jackass both gawked at him as if a second nose grew on his forehead. “Ms. Anderson, may I speak with you…
now
?” Keith reached for her when Jackass blocked his arm.

“There you are! I’ve been searching all over.” Beau Quinton pushed his way into the middle of the brewing tension. “I think you promised this dance to me.” Beau winked at Bertie’s shocked face and maneuvered her onto the dance floor, away from Jackass’s drooling mouth.

As much as Keith wanted to rearrange Beau’s face for pulling Bertie into his arms and laughing with her on the dance floor, he knew Beau did it so Keith could cool down and not make a scene by dragging his woman off like a caveman. Watching her walk away for the second time this evening almost brought him to his knees. But Keith knew from thousands of hours of training that the only way to win was always to make the last shot. He’d learned to rely on his training, to grind it out and be patient.

But he’d waited three whole months—no, make that his whole life—for someone like Bertie. He didn’t want to wait anymore. He wanted Bertie in his life. Tonight. This minute. For as long as he lived. Plain, simple, boring vanilla was never going to make him happy. He thrived on competition and grit and even drama. Yes, drama. Bertie’s drama. Bertie’s lust for life. Bertie who couldn’t hit a tennis ball for love or money. He wanted Bertie, who thought nothing of climbing ladders in four-inch heels to tackle impossible tasks. Bertie made him happy. And he hadn’t been truly happy for a really long time. He loved her and she loved him. Something that fierce and strong didn’t vanish in three months. Or did it?

“Yes, we did our best to enhance the true integrity of the house. We strove to respect its original features,” Bertie said, answering another reporter’s design question on Keith’s home. Bertie had fielded quite a few questions and even had her picture taken next to the original restored mantel in the living room for the
Triangle Tattler
, an online newsletter. She’d been smiling and making small talk for almost an hour, and her nerves were frayed.

Bertie still couldn’t believe Liza, of all the people on earth, convinced her to come home and attend this party. She and Liza drove seven hours in the same car and didn’t kill each other. They’d arrived back in Harmony yesterday afternoon. Bertie had begrudgingly come to appreciate Liza and her directness, but she hadn’t fully forgiven her. She’d get there one day. Maybe. But only if Liza stopped calling her Bertha Mavis. Gawd, Bertie hated her name.

Liza had pulled into Bertie’s driveway and Gary and Cal had rushed out to welcome Bertie home. Bertie forgave Gary for breaking his promise, but barely. She needed to hold on to her grudge and make him squirm a teensy bit longer. But Cal’s betrayal had cut Bertie to the quick. Not because he wanted to be with Liza, but because he’d never confided in her. And he’d allowed Bertie to believe all those years that Liza had been the instigator of the infamous kitchen kiss, not him. But Cal, in his usual way, tugged on Bertie’s ponytail, caught her in a headlock, and told her he loved her no matter how nutty she got.

So, here she stood, dressed in an emerald-green silk wrap dress, exposing way too much boobilage and wearing her favorite Christian Dior heels—the silver ones with the sparkly bows—all because Liza Palmer kidnapped her, dressed her, and forced her to come. It didn’t help that Aunt Franny cried over the phone to Bertie and insisted that Bertie escort her to the party, or that Dottie Duncan marched over to Bertie’s house in rhinestone cowboy boots and poked her long, cobalt-blue fingernail in Bertie’s face, delivering a blistering lecture about how she’d broken her aunt’s heart and all of Harmony’s. Because none of that addressed the real reason she couldn’t stay here.

The real reason stood on the other side of the living room, smiling down into some glamorous woman’s face as she hung on his every word. The man who’d made her love him despite his grumpy demeanor and irrational hang-ups—and then broken her heart as if it were cheap dime-store glass. The man who couldn’t open his heart because of all the pain he’d carried around like a coat of armor—impenetrable. By Bertie anyway.

Bertie handed her empty glass to a passing waiter. She needed air. She glanced at her dressy bracelet watch. She’d give this nightmare of an evening fifteen more minutes before she blew out of here. Something caught the corner of her eye and she followed the sound of a giggle. A giggle she’d heard before. Bertie froze as if her coveted shoes had stepped in wet cement. There, smiling up at Keith with her perfect blond hair pulled away with a silver headband, in her perfect midnight-blue sheath dress over her perfect slim, hipless figure, stood Gail. Keith’s…what? Girlfriend? Wife?
What?
And then Bertie had her answer. Gail’s left hand cupped Keith’s face as she kissed his cheek. And there it sat. A Tiffany-style engagement ring on Gail’s perfect finger. The catty part of Bertie that wanted to scratch Gail’s eyes out with her claws thought the diamond appeared rather puny. With all his gobs of money, he chose that chip of a diamond? But then maybe perfect Gail liked small stones to match her small breasts.
Stop
it.

Keith looked up and caught Bertie staring. More like gaping with her mouth open. Bertie flinched, commanded her stiff legs to move, and fled from the room. She wove her way to the front door, knocking a waiter with a tray full of plates into Dottie Duncan’s generous chest covered in flamingo-pink spandex and sequins, dousing her with her champagne and a plate of creamy tortellini.

“
Wh-what the
…sweet merciful crap!” Dottie bellowed at the wet, gooey stain on her top. “Bertie, are you wearing skates again? What’s gotten into you?”

But Bertie had already made it to the front door. “Sorry,” she called over her shoulder. She rushed down the front steps when someone grabbed her arm.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Liza yelled at her.

“Leave me alone.” Bertie wrenched her arm free. “I’ve had enough. I don’t need to hang around any longer and watch him make googly eyes at his perfect fiancée. I can’t take it anymore,” Bertie choked on a sob.

“You don’t understand. That’s—”

“Save it for someone who cares.” Bertie glared at Liza. “I’m taking Aunt Franny’s car. You take her home. I’ll return her car in the morning before I go to the airport.”

“You’re making a big mistake, Bertha,” Liza said in a warning tone. But Bertie didn’t hang around to listen. She jumped in Aunt Franny’s car and floored it. Away from Keith and away from the life she’d never have.

***

At eight o’clock the next morning, Bertie stood in Aunt Franny’s sitting room, wearing a short, belted orange tank dress, wedge sandals and a sheepish expression on her face. Her packed bag was by the back door. And she had already called Coco’s Cab to pick her up for the airport. Bertie could only imagine the uproar that had ensued at the kick-off party after her disastrous exit last night. Cal had called, but Bertie didn’t answer. Gary banged on her door around midnight, and Liza left three messages calling Bertie all kinds of names, the least of which was
complete
fucking
moron
. Bertie ignored all of them. She had to leave. She needed to clear her head and her heart. And she couldn’t do that stuck here in Harmony with all her memories. Seeing Keith hurt too much. She couldn’t stand by and watch the man she loved marry someone else. She couldn’t live with the constant reminder that he didn’t love her.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Bertie murmured to Aunt Franny, who perched in her antique French chair in a blue silk bathrobe with her slippered feet crossed.

She fluttered her hand. “I don’t care about last night. I’m worried about you. Where are you running off to now?”

“Back home. To Atlanta.”

Aunt Franny pierced Bertie with her imperial stare. “
This
is your home. You belong here. You belong with—”

“Don’t say it.” Bertie crossed the room and peered out the French doors onto the pristine lawn. “This is something I have to do. Probably not forever. But at least until I forget…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to put into words all that she needed to forget. Bertie heard Aunt Franny rise and move toward the door.

“At least say good-bye to Maddie. She has missed you so much.”

Bertie clutched her chest. “Oh. Yes. I’d love to say…good-bye.” Bertie licked her dry lips.

Aunt Franny frowned and then nodded. “Let me go wake her. Give me a minute.”

Bertie dropped her forehead on the glass pane of the door as she listened to Aunt Franny leave the room and then climb the stairs.

She jumped at the sound of the front door slamming and the bellow that followed.

“Aunt Francesca! She’s gone! Again. You said this would work. Dammit! You were wrong—”

Keith stopped as he barged into the sitting room. Shock and then disbelief raced across his face as he spied Bertie by the French doors.

“You,” they both said in unison.

He’d dressed in ratty jeans and a light-blue cotton polo shirt with the tail hanging out. His hair had that tousled, just-got-out-of-bed sexy look, which always looked like hell on her. Bertie’s heart crashed inside her chest at the sight of him. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out.

“Don’t.” Keith held up his hand. “Don’t talk, please. I don’t know what happened last night, but I didn’t get the chance to ex—”

Bertie’s traitorous heart hammered so loud she could barely hear. “There’s nothing to explain. You made everything crystal clear three months ago,” she said in a surprisingly calm voice.

“No. No. I made a mess of everything. I need to apologize.”

She couldn’t bear to look at him and lowered her gaze to her toes. “Is that why you’re here? To apologize?”

“Yes. I never meant to hurt you.”

No, but he did. And he would again with his apology and his hope that they could remain friends or some other crock of baked beans. No declaration of love. Only an apology for hurting her with words spoken from his inner turmoil.

“Last night you left before I could—”

Bertie squared her shoulders. “Yes. I left before I could congratulate you on your engagement. I hope you’ll both be marvelously happy together. I’ll be sure to send a gift from the registry.”

“Huh? What engagement?”

Bertie’s fist clenched at her side. “To Gail. I’m not an idiot. I saw the ring.”

“Gail? Ring?” Then Keith burst out laughing, his features melting into happiness and his eyes sparkling. “If you think I’d buy an engagement ring like that, then you don’t know me very well,” he said between hoots of laughter.

What? Did Gail buy her own ring? Bertie didn’t find any humor in the situation.

“Apology accepted. I’ve got to go.” She moved to brush past Keith, but he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her toward him.

“No. Please don’t leave me again. I don’t think I can live through it.” All laughter had vanished and he stared with a fierceness that caught her attention. “I know…I hurt you the day you told me you loved me. And I left. I know…I fucked up. But, Bertie, you left me and never came back. And last night…I tried to reach you, but you didn’t give me a chance. You left me again.”

Bertie stopped breathing. Something in his voice grabbed her. His dark eyes memorized her face, drinking her in as if she were a tall, cool glass of water and he was dying of thirst.

“What are you trying to say?” she whispered, almost afraid of the answer.

Keith kissed the top of Bertie’s head and gathered her close. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Ever since I found you hiding in my closet. Please tell me it’s not too late. Please tell me that you love me too.”

Bertie pulled back. He smiled down at her, but worry and fear lurked behind his eyes.

“What about Gail? Does she know?”

Keith’s smile grew, and he pressed kisses on Bertie’s face and eyes and cheeks. “Gail knows everything. She knew even before I did.”

“Wh-what?”

Keith gave her a gentle shake and her eyes popped open. “Gail’s engaged, but not to me.” Bertie blinked. “She’s engaged to one of your most ardent admirers.” Keith kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m afraid his crooning days are over for you though, because now Scott only sings for Gail.”

Bertie gasped. “
Scott
Douglas
is marrying Gail? Really?”

“And they couldn’t be a better match. Except for us. We’re perfect. And we belong together.” Keith caught a tear that trailed down Bertie’s cheek with his thumb. “I love you.”

Bertie couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat and the thudding of her heart. She grabbed the front of Keith’s shirt and planted a big kiss on his mouth. He caught her around the waist and deepened the kiss. Then he pushed back, his chest heaving. “Wait.”

Keith dropped down on one knee and pulled something from his back pocket and said, “Bertha Mavis, the girl with the two worst names in the world, the girl with the brightest smile, the most beautiful eyes, and the biggest heart—will you marry me?”

Bertie looked down, and cushioned in gorgeous maroon velvet was a beautiful emerald cut diamond and peridot engagement ring. Bertie dropped to her knees. “I love you! Yes…
yes.
I’ll marry you.” She launched herself at Keith and they both crashed to the floor, tangled up together the way Bertie hoped their life would be forever. Keith’s laughter, filled with love and promises, poured through Bertie. He cradled the back of her head and pulled Bertie in for a long, hard kiss.

“Daddy!” Maddie burst into the room like an excited puppy and fell on top of them wearing her fuzzy pj’s. “Yay! Bertie’s going to be my mommy!”

Aunt Franny followed but hung back and observed the playful antics of her growing family as she wiped tears from her eyes.

Keith laughed again as he kissed Bertie and Maddie and then Bertie again.

Bertie sat up with tousled hair and well-kissed lips. “Where’s that ring?”

Keith raised up on his elbow, holding it between his fingers.

“Here. Let me.” Bertie snatched the most beautiful ring ever and slid it on her finger. “Now
that’s
a ring,” she said as she held her hand out with the large diamond. “Thank goodness you knew me better than to buy some little chip.”

Maddie reached for Bertie’s hand with pure awe lighting her eyes as she admired the fabulous blingage. “It’s beautiful,” Maddie sighed.

Keith flopped back down and groaned as if in pain. “I am so outnumbered. I’m never going to win with you three women.”

Bertie patted him on the chest and her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Never a dull moment in the new Morgan household.”

Keith gathered Bertie and Maddie in his arms. “Just the way I like it.”