Look Closely (32 page)

Family. With me.

Caroline returned to her beloved Matt and their cozy house on Northeast Jarrett Street in Portland. They had to work through the secrets she’d kept from him and the agony she’d put him through. But again, their lives, to the unknowing observer, belie little change. In fact, Caroline has blossomed with the unearthing of the secrets. She’s pregnant. If it’s a girl, they’l name her Leah.

Ty’s father decided to leave the police force. He stil believes he deserved the chief position, but he can’t stand how he got it. He’s decided to work with his son at Long Beach Inn.

My father has faired the worst from al of this. It was as if the secrets were the steam that kept him going, and without it, he’s wilted. He has gone into semiretirement, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his free time. Luckily, he’s met someone. A woman from his golf club. Wil Sutter is dating for the first time in decades, and that puts a smile on his face every so often. For a while, he came to see my therapist with me, and we tried to work through what he did after my mom died, why he did it. The course he charted was flawed, but it was born of love. It’s tough to fault someone who loves you so much.

I never did represent McKnight Corporation in the trial against Kingston Marketing. Magoo and Natalie tried the case, and to my internal chagrin, they won. There are rumors on Wal Street, though, that McKnight’s board has grown tired of his high salary, his elitist ways and the company’s lack of growth. If the rumors are right, there may soon be a McKnight Corporation without Sean McKnight at the helm.

As for Maddy, she was devastated about “Grant.” Sean McKnight had beaten me to the punch, and by the time I returned to New York, she knew al about his deception. Maddy said she cried and screamed as he told her the story; she threw her col ege tennis trophy at him. She stil regrets that she missed his head by a half an inch. But like the true friend that she is, her concern was for me. How was I doing? she wanted to know as soon as I got back. Did I want to talk about it?

I did want to talk, in fact, because I’ve learned something through this whole ordeal. I’ve learned thatalthoughIcancontrolmyprofessional ifewith a tight fist, something I’m very good at (probably too good at), I can’t hold so tight to my heart. I’ve tried, God knows I’ve tried. I have rarely gotten deeply involved with men, and I pushed away the confrontationswithmyfatherthatshouldhavehappened long ago. But none of that worked, did it? AndsoItalkedtoMaddy,andItalkedtoMaureen, my new therapist, and most of al I talked to Ty.

I won’t say that I’m fine. I won’t even say that I don’t hate myself, violently, sometimes. Al I can say is that I let the swings and sways of my emotions have at it. I’ve become moody instead of calm, unpredictable instead of centered. But strangely, these swings and sways have brought something into my life I’ve never had before—momentary episodes of euphoria. Often they occur at times I wouldn’t expect, like when I get a whiff of fresh coffee as I push open the café door or I catch the sight of the morning sun making a series of yel ow rows across my hardwood floor. These details appeal to me now, they make me want to sing in between the times I want to cry.

I suppose to my co-workers I don’t seem so different than I did before. They know I’m moving to work at the Chicago office, and they assume that’s because I failed to make partner in New York. They think I’m running away, but real y I’m just running right into it.

The plane lands at O’Hare. It seems days go by before we reach the gate. It takes forever to get my smal suitcase from the overhead bin and hurry down the concourse. The rest of my stuff, al my baggage, is coming later.

At last, I get to the arrivals sidewalk, hoping my hair looks al right despite the blustery Chicago wind. And then I see that monstrous green car of his driving down the ramp. He pul s to the curb next to me. I smile big. I feel kidlike and giddy. He gets out of the car and walks around to me. He wears faded jeans and a blue button-down shirt, which make his eyes more

deeply indigo and the freckles on his face more prominent. Without a word, he lifts the bag from my grasp and sets it on the sidewalk. He takes my face in his warm hands. He kisses me then, and everything else in the world disappears.

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ISBN: 978-1-4268-3680-0

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Copyright © 2005 by Laura Caldwel .

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