The Millionaire's Proposal (19 page)

At the moment, life couldn’t be more perfect. She was determined that tonight with Ford would be equally flawless.

“You here for your afternoon banana-cherry chocolate milkshake?” Marie’s tone was friendly enough, but her gaze lacked its normal cheerful sparkle.

Grace grinned impishly at the other woman, who stood on the opposite side of the long counter separating the dining area from the grill. “Boy, am I predictable, or what? I also need a whole chocolate cream pie to go.” Hoping to put a smile on Marie’s too serious expression, she extended the bouquet of flowers. “And I brought you some flowers to brighten your day.”

Her eyes softened at the thoughtful gesture, but didn’t ease the troubled frown creasing her brow. “I certainly needed that today.” Reaching beneath the counter, Marie withdrew one of the expensive crystal vases Grace had given her from all those roses Ford had bought her. “Would you mind putting the flowers in water while I make your milkshake?”

Grace filled the vase with water from behind the counter, then set about arranging the spray of flowers while Marie blended her concoction of bananas, cherries, chocolate syrup and vanilla ice cream. Grace snuck surreptitious glances at the older woman, wondering what had her so preoccupied. Marie was never this quiet unless something was wrong.

Pouring the mixture into a tall glass, she set it in front of Grace. “Here you go, sweetie-pie.”

The silly sentiment lacked its normal oomph, prompting even more concern from Grace. “Marie . . . is everything okay?”

Reaching inside the glass enclosed refrigerator displaying the half dozen pies and cakes Marie made, she retrieved one of the chocolate cream pies and slid it into a bakery box, her back to Grace. “I got an interesting call from Hank today.”

“Oh,” Grace breathed in understanding, her hands stilling on a stem of English ivy. “Did you find out who the new property owner is?”

“Sure did.” Her tone was calm, but undeniably disturbed as she taped the sides of the bakery box. “Title was transferred today, along with confirmation from Hank that we’ll be out of business within the next two months in lieu of a new theater and shopping center.”

Grace’s heart plummeted at that devastating news. “Oh, Marie . . . Maybe we can contact whoever it is, and try to talk to them. See if we can’t work something out that would benefit them and the tenants here.”

Marie finally turned around, placing the dessert on the counter. Her gaze held Grace’s steadily. “You can talk to him this evening, I’m sure.”

Certain she’d misunderstood the other woman, Grace shook her head. “Excuse me?”

Marie washed her hands and dried them on a terry towel. “FZM, Inc., isn’t that the development company that bought Cutter Creek? The same business Ford owns?”

A numbing sensation spread within Grace, and she had to sit down on the stool next to her. “Yes.”

A sad smile touched Marie’s mouth. “Well, then, it looks like your husband is going to be our new landlord until he tears the place down.”

“That’s impossible, Marie,” Grace said in fierce denial, refusing to believe it could be true. “Ford knows how I feel about whoever is planning to redevelop this property.”

Surprisingly, Marie expressed no anger, just resignation at the twist fate had delivered. “Which is probably why he hasn’t said anything to you.”

Ford parked his car next to Grace’s van in the driveway and drew a deep breath, knowing the time had come for him to tell Grace about his recent acquisition, which would change the future of Whitaker Falls. The property and building that housed After Hours and the strip of shops was finally his, to do as he pleased.
To make peace with his past
.

Now he just needed to convince Grace that his ideas for the piece of land were viable, and beneficial to the town. He needed her to understand how important this was to him, and how much he wanted her support in his new endeavor to tear down the existing structure and rebuild a theater and new, modernized shops. Destroying After Hours was his main goal, but in the process he wanted to offer Whitaker Falls something that would appeal to all.

Considering how staunchly Grace defended the current tenants, he had his doubts about her empathizing with his point of view of the situation, even if they had come a long way in their marriage. He’d spent the past few months cultivating her faith in him, needing her to believe in him, and stand behind him, for what he planned to propose.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to reveal his intentions, and he wasn’t so certain Grace was ready to accept them.

Frustration tightened the muscles across his shoulders. He needed more time to sway her to his way of thinking. He had at least another week before he sent letters to the tenants of the building and informed them of his plans for the property, which gave him another week to discuss the issue with Grace, and most importantly, to do the one thing he’d put off for far too long.

He needed to tell Grace he loved her, and make her confident in his feelings for her. He’d held back on the vulnerable emotions, so uncertain of where he stood with her, other than the obvious reason that had brought them together: their baby. Tonight, he planned to find out. And from there, they’d work together to solidify their future, and that of Whitaker Falls.

Satisfied with his plan, he grabbed his briefcase and exited the vehicle, heading up the brick pathway to the front door. He stepped inside, saw the two suitcases sitting in the foyer, and couldn’t stem the foreboding that slithered through him . . . couldn’t squash the sudden intuition that the week he’d thought he’d had to sway his wife had just been squeezed into non-existence.

Refusing to think the worst until he had an explanation for that luggage, he set his briefcase on the dining room table, and followed the rustling sounds he heard to his master bedroom. Sure enough, his wife was packing all her personal belongings, stuffing them haphazardly into the handled bags on the bed.

He leaned against the doorframe and forced a calm he was far from feeling. “Are you going somewhere?”

Her body tensed at the sound of his voice, but she didn’t look at him. “I’m moving out.”

The pressure in his chest increased. “May I ask why?”

She cast him a quick glance as she marched to the armoire to gather her things from a drawer. The contempt in her gaze cut sharper than a knife. “You shouldn’t have to ask why,” she said, her tone just as double-edged. “But since you feel the need for me to clarify my reasons, I refuse to live with a man I don’t trust.”

He found her statement too ambiguous, and until he knew exactly what she was referring to, he decided to abstain from revealing anything. Pushing off the doorjamb, he entered the bedroom, and stopped next to the bed. “What are you talking about?”

A disgusted sound slipped past her lips. “I’m talking about the fact that
you’re
the one who bought the After Hours property, Ford.”

He felt as though he’d been punched in the gut, and tried not to let his unease show. He had to remain calm and rational, though he was feeling anything but. “How did you find out?”

“Does it matter?” she asked, her voice high and incredulous.

“Yes, it does,” he insisted, unable to temper the irritable emotions touching his voice. “Especially when
I
wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Hank called and told Marie today, not that that changes anything.” She pushed a handful of socks and panties into the bag, and zipped it up with awful finality. Then she turned to look at him with accusing brown eyes. “You lied to me.”

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers, trying to hold on to the calm that seemed to be deteriorating by the minute. “I never lied.”

“You omitted the truth, which is something you’re pretty good at doing.” The soft lips he’d kissed so ardently just the night before, in this very bed, were now drawn into a tight line. “You acted as though you knew nothing when we sat in Marie’s Cafe and talked about what the new owner might do to that property! To me, that’s as good as lying, just like you
omitted
the fact that you were moving to Cutter Creek that first day I saw you.”

He ground his teeth to tamp his growing aggravation. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair to
me
, Ford,” she argued, picking up the two handled bags. “I’m your wife, and I didn’t have the slightest clue what you’d planned. I feel deceived and betrayed by my own husband.”

He grabbed the totes from her grasp in an attempt to relieve her of the burden, and to keep her from leaving. “I had reasons for waiting to tell you about me buying the land. I wasn’t even sure I’d get the property.”

“Well, congratulations, Mr. McCabe, it’s yours,” she said sarcastically, granting him no leniency. Seemingly not caring whether she had the bags he held in his hands, or not, she turned on her heel and headed out the door.

Ford panicked. “Grace!” he called after her, even though he knew his obstinate wife wouldn’t come running back at his demand. “Aww, hell,” he muttered, and dropped her bags on the floor so he could stalk after her. He caught up with her in the foyer, stepping between her and the luggage waiting for her there before she could pick them up.

“Dammit, Grace, I’m not done talking to you!”

Instead of the anger he’d expected, she looked up at him with a wealth of disillusionment shimmering in her eyes. “Just be honest with me about one thing, Ford. You’re tearing down those shops,
all of them
, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am,” he said, hating how ruthless he sounded. But that’s how he felt about his reasons for purchasing that property in the first place. “Those shops are old, and I want After Hours gone. Even you agree that the bar is an eyesore.”

Her brows snapped into a scowl. “I don’t want After Hours torn down at the expense of putting other good, honest, hard-working people out of business because of your selfish ideas!”

His jaw firmed. “I can’t do it any other way.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

The past rose up to haunt him, brooking no compromise. “I
can’t
, Grace.”

“Well, I can’t do it any other way, either.” Her expression saddened. “I can’t live with a man I don’t even know. A man who won’t even confide in me for the most important decisions in his life. I thought we’d come at least that far in this farce of a marriage.” She attempted to step around him to pick up her luggage.

He blocked her path, but didn’t touch her, though he wanted to. Badly. “Our marriage was never a farce.”

“Wasn’t it?” she insisted, vulnerable emotions trembling in her voice. “You married me because I was pregnant with your baby, and now I see everything for the sham it is. You moved back to Cutter Creek to prove something, and you’ve certainly created a nice illusion for yourself, with a sprawling house, a wife, a baby, a family. You’ve come a long way since the wild, rebellious kid you were, and I’m just an asset in your life to make you look respectable.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Dammit, Grace, that’s the furthest thing from the truth!” She didn’t look at all convinced that his motives toward her had been emotion-driven. Desperation coiled through him, and instinctive words blurted from him. “
I love you
, and I don’t want you to leave!”

She nearly unraveled at his declaration—he saw the softening in her gaze, the wonderment of the possibility that what he said was true. But then the moment was gone and she gave her head an imperceptible shake. “You’ve given me no choice but to leave, because I can’t even be sure if you really love me, or if you’re using my emotions to get what you want.”

“Which is?”

“My cooperation. My approval.” Her chin jutted out mutinously. “You want me to stand by you in your decision to tear down all those shops, but I can’t do that, Ford. I care for those people who’ve worked hard all their lives and won’t have a means for income any longer. You’re destroying more than those shops, Ford, you’ll be destroying people’s dreams at the expense of exorcizing your own demons.” She pulled in a shaky breath, the briefest hint of compassion entering her eyes. “Tearing down After Hours and rebuilding something new won’t make the pain of your past go away, or give you what you want so badly.”