Spring Fever (27 page)

“I know. I feel horrible,” she said. And she did.

Wyley looked from Shane to Annajane. The dog whined and licked Shane’s hand, and Shane scratched his ears absentmindedly.

He looked down at the floor, and then, with hopefulness, at Annajane. “So, it was an of-the-moment kind of thing, right? Not something you’d do again, right?”

“Not if I was thinking rationally,” Annajane said.

“And when you’re thinking rationally?” Shane asked, taking both her hands in his.

“I know it will never work for Mason and me. There were too many issues when we were married before that never got resolved. I’m done with all that.”

“You’re sure? Really?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her pulse was racing, and she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Finally, fighting back tears, she nodded.

“Okay then,” Shane said. He leaned his forehead and rested it against hers. “You had me worried there for a minute, babe, showing up like that, out of the blue.” He kissed her. “It’s forgotten. Right?”

“Riiigghhht,” she said.

As if,
she thought.

“I trust you totally,” he told her. “What we have together, it transcends petty jealousy. In a week, you’ll be down here, we’ll be together, and Mason whatshisname will be ancient history.”

And that’s what she wanted to believe. She would have given anything to believe it. But no matter what she did or where she went, she knew Mason would never be history. Not completely.

He stood up, stretched, and yawned. “Wow, I’ve been so busy, I totally forgot to eat today. So, what’s your plan? Wanna get some lunch or something? We’re meeting over at Rob’s house at two for rehearsal, but there’s still time for us to run up to the sandwich joint at the shopping center and grab something before I take off.”

She was staring at Shane now, who was standing there, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, so trusting, so willing to forgive what he considered her minor transgression. She thought of the qualities that had drawn her to him the first time they’d met in Holden Beach.

Shane had no inkling it wasn’t cool to call a girl five minutes after she’d driven away from him, and that was part of his charm. He didn’t care about cool. He cared about her. The next time they met, in Roanoke, he’d gone to a supermarket and bought pink roses and had them delivered to her table in the club where he was playing. And the next time he was in North Carolina, he called, and even though he was playing in a bar halfway across the state, he drove the three hours over and back just to take her to dinner before he had to drive back and play a late-night set.

He sent her sweet, funny e-mails, links to his music and the band’s Web site. He started, but never finished, writing a song called “Annajane in the Morning.” The band was a regional success. Shane made enough money to do what he loved to do—making music, hanging with his friends, traveling around in his van with his dog, and then coming home to his little cabin.

The life was enough for him, she thought, and he was blessed that he thought so. The problem was, she saw now, it wouldn’t be enough for her. Shane wanted her, she knew. But he didn’t really need her. His life was just the right size, just as it was.

She’d been spouting off about honesty—both to Mason and Shane. But if she was being really honest with herself, she knew there was a reason she’d resisted moving in here or setting a date for their wedding.

“Annajane?” Shane was standing at the door, his Dobro in his hand. “Ready to go?”

She covertly twisted the plain ring from her left hand and looked around the room one last time.

“Shane?” He turned to her, and when he saw the somber look on her face, his beautiful, sunny smile clouded over, and then disappeared.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning up against the doorjamb. “You’re never moving in here; we’re never getting married. God. I am so damned dense. That’s what you really came to tell me, wasn’t it?”

“No,” she said, walking toward him. “I mean, I thought I came here to convince myself that you’re what I want. To remind myself how lucky I am to have your love. And I know, I must be the luckiest girl in this state. But as much as I want this to work, I just don’t think it will.”

“We could make it work!” Shane exclaimed. “Once you’re living closer, away from all that drama back in Passcoe, things will be different. We’ll make them different. If you need some time and space, I get that. You can have all of it you want. Just as long as you stay in my life. Okay?” He reached out, took her hand, and kissed it.

“Your ring?” he asked, dropping her hand.

She dug it out of her pocket, put it in his palm, and gently closed his fingers over it. “I messed up my last marriage. Gave up and ran off when things got bad. It was easier to blame him, his mama, my mama, everybody but myself. But now I’ve got to stop running. I’ve got to figure out what I want from life.”

“Mason?” His mouth twisted as he said the name.

“I honestly don’t know,” she said. “He’s got a lot of his own stuff to figure out. Right now, I think I’ll just concentrate on fixing me.”

“You’re fine the way you are,” Shane said.

“No, I’m not,” Annajane said. She picked up her overnight bag and slung it over her shoulder and gave Wyley a final head scratch. “But I’m gonna be.”

24

Farnham-Capheart’s offices were on the seventh floor of a midsized office tower in midtown Atlanta. Annajane parked in the underground garage and took the elevator to the marble-floored lobby. As she passed a small sandwich shop, her growling stomach reminded her of the breakfast and lunch she’d skipped.

A trio of women, dressed in chic dark suits and heels, stepped out of the elevator as she stepped in. She looked down, ruefully, at her own attire: black slacks, a pale pink ruffled cotton blouse, and quilted black ballet flats. When she’d fled Passcoe before dawn that morning, she hadn’t stopped to think about what clothes she’d need. She brushed some dog hair from her slacks, reached in her pocketbook, and brought out a simple pair of pearl earrings and fastened them to her ears.

This would have to do for now, but she’d certainly have to step up her game, fashion-wise, once she started work at the ad agency. Back in Passcoe, she’d dressed much more casually for work, even wearing jeans on Fridays in the summer. Clearly, that wouldn’t work in Atlanta. She was in the big leagues now. And, she reflected ruefully, she was single again. Probably destined to stay that way, too.

When she arrived at the agency’s office suite, she had to wait a moment for her new boss, Joe Farnham, to meet her in the reception area.

“Annajane?” he said, looking a little flustered. “Aren’t you still working in Passcoe?”

“I came into town this morning on the spur of the moment,” she said. “Just thought I’d drop by and chat for a minute before I head back home to finish up my packing.”

“Come on back to my office,” Joe said, guiding her by the elbow. “I guess it’s just as well you’re here.”

When he was seated at his desk with his office door closed and with Annajane sitting across from him, Joe Capheart pulled a foil-wrapped roll of antacids from a desk drawer. He popped one in his mouth and silently handed one across to her.

Her stomach fluttered. News was coming, and it wasn’t gonna be good.

“I take it you haven’t talked to Davis today?” he asked, frowning.

“Uh, no,” she said. “It’s been a pretty crazy weekend at home. I left superearly this morning and haven’t had a chance to talk to Davis.”

“You’re gonna want to,” Joe said. He chewed the antacid silently and stared out the window. “They’ve put me in a hell of an awkward position here. Not to mention all the other repercussions.”

“What’s going on?” Annajane said, trying not to sound alarmed.

“The long and the short of it is, Quixie has pulled their account.”

She chewed the antacid furiously for a moment, while she let the news settle in. “Since when?” she asked, when she could speak again. “That’s crazy. I talked to Mason yesterday, and he didn’t say anything like that.”

“Davis e-mailed me about fifteen minutes ago,” Joe said glumly. “I haven’t even told the rest of the partners yet. An e-mail—you believe that? After all the years the agency’s done business with them?”

“Did he give you a reason?” Annajane asked, still dumbfounded. “I mean, Joe, I was just in the office yesterday, going over the new summer promotion plans. Davis had signed off on all of it.”

“This came from out of the blue! As far as I knew, we were golden,” Joe said. “Thirty years we’ve been working on the Quixie account. I was just a junior copywriter when Glenn Bayless hired us, and Davis, the little prick—excuse my language, Annajane—was barely potty-trained. All his e-mail today said was that there were some new developments in the company’s ownership. Do you have any idea what that’s supposed to mean?”

She felt a chill go down her spine. “All I know is that Jax Snax has indicated they’re going to tender an offer to buy Quixie. Mason is totally opposed to a sale. And so is his sister. But Davis has been actively agitating for it.”

“What about Sallie?” Joe asked urgently.

“According to Mason, she’s been on the fence.”

Joe crumpled up a piece of paper and tossed it into the trash. “Sounds to me like maybe she fell off that fence.”

Annajane took a deep breath. “What does this mean for the agency?”

“It’s a huge punch in the gut, of course,” Joe said. “Quixie was one of our biggest accounts. I’m gonna try and talk to Davis, and Mason, if I can. But if we don’t retain that account, well, that changes everything.”

“Including my hire?” She kept her tone deliberately neutral, calm.

“I’m afraid so,” Joe said. “We’ll still pay for your moving expenses, of course, and any other out-of-pocket expenses you’ve incurred, but without the Quixie account, we’ll have to do some major reshuffling around here.”

“I see,” Annajane said. She stood up and held out a hand to Joe Farnham. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Son of a bitch!” he growled. “This isn’t right. It just isn’t. I wish there was something more I could do. We were all really looking forward to having you join the team, Annajane. I told Davis, right before we offered you the position, he’d be crazy to let you walk away.”

Annajane turned, startled. “You talked to Davis about hiring me? Not Mason?”

Joe shrugged. “It was Davis’s idea. I mean, if I’d known you were thinking of leaving Quixie, I’d have snapped you up in a minute anyway, but yeah, he mentioned in passing that he thought you’d be uncomfortable staying at the company after Mason got serious with that consultant of theirs.”

“Celia,” she said. “Her name is Celia.” And her grimy mitts were all over this little maneuver, Annajane thought.

*   *   *

As much as she dreaded going back home, Annajane knew she had no choice. Celia had laid down the gauntlet, and it was too late now to back away from a fight. Before leaving Capheart’s parking lot, she called the leasing office for the apartment she’d rented to let them know she wouldn’t be moving in after all, and got the not-unexpected news that she would be forfeiting the first and last month’s rent that she’d already paid.

She called Pokey as soon as she’d cleared Atlanta traffic and was back on the interstate, headed to Passcoe. “What’s going on up there?” she demanded.

“Let’s see. Where do you want me to start?” Pokey said. “I think the right rear tire on my Range Rover has a nail in it. Petey has a weird rash all over his body; and Clayton has decided he does not want to be potty-trained, which means he might still be in Pull-Ups in junior high; and, oh yeah, Mama announced a little while ago that she’s just fine with selling Quixie to some outfit in Tenafly, New Jersey, that makes jalapeño cheese–stuffed microwaveable tater tots.”

“Oh, God,” Annajane moaned. “How? Why?”

A loud scream pierced the air from the other end of the phone.

“Hang on a second, will ya?”

Annajane heard the sounds of footsteps, and then the sound of water flushing, and then childish shrieks. “Denning Riggs!” Pokey yelled. “Do not dunk your little brother in the toilet. I don’t care if he does smell like poopie. No! I mean it. Put him down this instant.”

Pokey came back on the line and sighed. “What was I thinking having all these kids? One more is gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You love it,” Annajane said, laughing despite the seriousness of the current situation.

“As I was saying, it seems that my darling brother Davis has somehow managed to pull another fast one on us,” Pokey said. “And I’ll just bet the formidable Celia has been bending Mama’s ear, too. She’s spent a lot of time over at Cherry Hill these past few weeks, in the guise of making wedding plans, sucking up to Mama.”

“So that’s it for Quixie? It’s a done deal?” Annajane asked.

“Not quite yet,” Pokey said. “Mama claims she doesn’t want to do anything unless all of us are one hundred percent on board.”

“Well, that’s something,” Annajane said. “Have you talked to Mason about any of this?”

“Not yet,” Pokey said. “The shit literally just hit the fan. I’ve called the office and left a message with Voncile to have him call me, and I left him a voice mail on his cell, but I’m sure he’s up to his ass in alligators right now. And speaking of which, how did Shane handle your true confession?”

“He said the right thing for all the wrong reasons. I’m more messed up now than I’ve ever been.”

“You’re gonna have to spell this out for me, hon,” Pokey said. “I’ve got baby brain already.”

“We’re not getting married,” Annajane said. “I broke it off with Shane.”

“Yippee! I mean, oh, that’s too bad,” Pokey said. “You sound pretty okay though.”

“Definitely not okay. Shell-shocked,” Annajane corrected. “But that’s not all. I’m having a hell of a morning my ownself. After I left the cabin I went to see my new boss, Joe, at Farnham-Capheart. Who greeted me with the news that I don’t have a job there after all, because Davis e-mailed him this morning that Quixie is pulling the account from the agency.”