Four Men & A Lady Read online

  "Hmph. Sounds like someone needs another reunion. And another tumble with a certain man whose name has not yet been spoken for these best friend ears to hear," Georgia said and flounced from Heidi's office.

  "Close the door on your way out," Heidi called.

  Georgia did, but stuck her head back in and added, "You were a lot more fun when you weren't getting any."

  Heidi bolted upright at the slam of the door. She counted to ten. She breathed deeply, from her diaphragm. She even spent three minutes in meditation.

  And still she had the jumpiness of a cat on a hot tin roof. Or a cat on the back porch of a farmhouse. Or a cat ducking the hooves of a new mother mare.

  Charlie Parker. Ben had named his horse Charlie Parker. That single detail was the most telling of all that, yes, he had truly forgiven her. The scar was a physical reminder he'd learned to live with.

  But to purposefully name his horse after her favorite saxophonist of all time? Even her brain, so lame of late, couldn't pass off the obvious as coincidence.

  So why all these years after the assault and these weeks after the reunion was she still unable to forgive herself? It made her seem so pathetic. And she was not pathetic.

  Her career had given her an enviable reputation. She had the car and the clothing to make any Sherwood Grove debutante green. These days she never wanted for money. She could splurge on hair and nails and travel when in the mood.

  And a personal trainer even when not.

  But none of that had been her goal. The security, sure, but not the shallow quest for wealth and affluence for nothing but wealth and affluence's sake. That was not the criterion by which she wished her success to be measured. It certainly wasn't how she judged her own achievements.

  She hadn't worked her butt off for these many years just to gain entrance into the world of the Tannens.

  Had she?

  Shoving her chair back from her desk, she stood and turned, arms crossed, to stare out the wall of windows overlooking the building's landscaped atrium and the parking lot beyond. She'd come so far from the river kid who'd gone to school with the Sherwood Grove debs.

  She'd chosen her field of practice to help others forced by life's vagaries into circumstances similar to the ones she'd lived. She had not for one minute thought that, as a high-profile attorney, her profession would grant her access into a society that had shunned her from day one at Johnson High-

  Okay. So maybe that thought had moved into a small corner in the back of her mind. And seeing Maryann Stafford's shock of recognition had admittedly given Heidi a thrill. But those were only by-products. Secondary considerations. Her commitment had more depth than that.

  Surely that was obvious to Ben.

  Whoa. Wait a minute. What did any of this have to do with Ben?

  Face it, Heidi. This is all about Ben.

  She leaned her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes against the wash of overwhelming truth. She'd never cared what Sherwood Grove society thought about where she'd come from, the way she'd looked, or acted or dressed.

  She'd only wanted to please Ben. It had been that way since the very first time she'd walked into the band hall as a high school freshman.

  He'd accepted her as an equal that day. He hadn't cared that there wasn't a designer label on a single item of clothing she wore. And he hadn't let the other three look at her as anything but the talent she was.

  That day Ben had become as important to her as her dream of one day seeing her name on a business card followed by the word Esquire. It wasn't easy to admit that even now. She'd been in denial so long.

  The night they'd made love had been a night of sharing more than bodies. They'd shared laughter over the remembered antics of The Deck and quite a few of her tears as they'd talked about her father's death and her life prior to Johnson High.

  They'd talked about the past fifteen years of their lives. They'd talked about Ben's future at the Stonebridge Reporter and hers with Bonds and Malone, LLC.

  But they hadn't talked about a future together. He hadn't said he loved her. And when she'd left the next morning, the only thing he'd said was good-bye.

  Somehow, somewhere, she'd failed to please him completely. Refusing to forgive herself for the assault cushioned that blow. With her crime against him standing in the way, she wouldn't have to wonder how she'd failed to meet his standards, or to think if only things were different because they weren't.

  As long as the assault remained as a boulder between them, the rejection would be in her court. And that would ease the hurt of not having him in her life.

  She'd been wrong earlier. She was pathetic.

  The door to her office opened and closed.

  "Go away, Georgia. I'm busy."

  "Busy holding that window in place with your head?"

  Ben!

  Heidi straightened, stared at his reflection in her office window. Her heart stopped because for a fleeting moment what she saw was the image of the boy she'd fallen in love with. His jeans were stone-washed, his feet shoved into bulky athlete-endorsed high-tops, the collar of his red polo shirt turned up against the back of his neck.

  It was the distortion of the glass, she knew, that gave him the look of youth and innocence. Because when she turned there was nothing in his face that reminded her of a boy. Ben Tannen was all man.

  He was a man on a mission, intent on their unfinished business. What she saw in the lines at the corners of his eyes wasn't anger as much as frustration, not impatience as much as determination.

  But what she saw didn't matter half as much as what she felt. How a thrill raced upward from the base of her spine. How the weight on her shoulders lifted.

  Funny how he'd show up just when she'd been thinking of him. She laughed to herself. He could've arrived yesterday or flown in tomorrow and still she would have been thinking of him.

  She was always thinking of him.

  "Ben. What a surprise." She tented both hands on the edge of her desk. "What're you doing here?"

  He walked toward her, stopped on the opposite side of the Queen Anne desk, rubbed a weary hand across the back of his neck. “I've been asking myself that same question for the past two hundred miles."

  Interesting that even he didn't know why he was here. "Did you give yourself an answer?"

  He shook his head. "I waited a month as it was. I knew you had a case coming to trial and I didn't want to distract you."

  She sighed, nudged at the legal pad on her desk. "I always have a case coming to trial."

  The hand at his neck came down to grip the headrest of her guest chair. "So, no time is a good time?"

  "I didn't say that." She would never say that. "It's just that I'm always busy."

  "Always busy," he repeated. "And that translated from lawyerspeak means too busy?"

  "Too busy for some things. Not too busy for others," she said and attempted a smile.

  "Too busy to call a friend?"

  She shook her head. "No. Not at all. In fact, I called Quentin this past...weekend." The tail of the sentence drifted as she realized where this was going.

  "I see." The long lashes of his green eyes barely filtered his ire. "Just too busy to call the friends you sleep with."

  Her backbone straightened. "I don't have friends I sleep with."

  "Just enemies?"

  That was just about enough. Keeping her voice neutral yet civil, she said, "If you came here to be rude to me, then I'd like to invite you to leave."

  "I came here to say something to you, Heidi." He was pacing now and she didn't press. Just waited for him to speak. And to leave for the last time.

  "Here's the deal. There was one thing I failed to say the weekend of the reunion. One thing I have to get off my chest whether or not it makes any difference to you."

  Shoving the guest chair away from the desk, he slapped his palms on the cherry wood and leaned forward. "I love you. I have probably loved you longer than I know. But what I feel isn't the issue."
r />   He loved her? He loved her? Oh God! He loved her! Her knuckles were white from the strain of keeping her hands to herself, but she found her voice to calmly ask, "What is the issue, then?"

  "Your refusal to get over the assault." The bully straightened and settled crossed arms over his chest. "Yeah, we talked about it. Yeah, you apologized. But you just won't let it go. Heidi, baby. You've got to let it go."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," she lied, her mouth drawn tight. She really didn't want to hear any of this.

  Ben ignored her. "I've spent a lot of time in the last month thinking about you, trying to figure out why you haven't called. And it's the only thing that makes sense. You're all twisted up over this and it's going to destroy you."

  She lifted one shoulder. "Destructive acts destroy, Ben. The nature of the beast. What I've spent a lot of time thinking about is how you managed to keep the cops out of it."

  "Hell—" he gestured with one wild hand "—I told my folks I didn't remember who'd hit me. That I didn't remember anything that had happened after the bell rang that day. They knew my memory loss was bogus, but I wasn't going to turn you in."

  "What!" This was all so unreal! That he'd done that to protect her? She pressed the flat of her palm to her forehead, felt the staccato pulse in her wrist at the bridge of her nose. Then... She jerked her head back up, used her hand as a stop sign. "Wait, wait. You didn't have to turn me in. Everyone knew it was me!"

  "Sure. The rumors flew. But I never said a word. And there weren't any witnesses. I wasn't going to ruin what was left of your life by admitting to anything. I had that much sense left."

  "No. You'd been knocked senseless."

  "You were my friend, Heidi. I'd seen where you lived. The shit you'd survived. And I knew that, given a chance, you'd make a hell of a lawyer. So I forgave you and took the blame.

  "But I've gotten over being forgiving. I won't forgive you for holding on to this and ruining the rest of your life. I've been waiting fifteen years for you to get over it. I'm tired of waiting. I love you too much for that."

  And then he turned and walked out of her life, leaving Heidi to face the pathetic truth. She was about to lose the best thing she had ever known, and all because she was too much of a snob to admit she was wrong.

  She looked out the window again, saw Ben crossing the parking lot. She grabbed up a pen, a white linen gold-embossed notecard and rail out the door of her office, bypassing Georgia's gaping mouth with nothing but a, "Have Annette hold my calls."

  BEN HAD SAID what he'd come to say. Now the rest was up to Heidi. Even if he hadn't loved her, he couldn't in all good conscience watch a friend self-destruct.

  He'd already given her time. His generous mood was waning. If he didn't hear from her in a week, or two, a month at the outside, well...that would be the end of that.

  So sue him that he wasn't the enabling type.

  When he heard running footsteps on the concrete behind him, he didn't turn. He kept walking because he couldn't be sure who the feet belonged to and he didn't want to look like a fool if she was watching him from her office window.

  But she wasn't. She was there, flushed and out of breath and disheveled.

  "Here." She shoved a piece of paper into his face.

  He eyed it warily. "What is it?"

  "Just take it," she insisted, shaking it his direction.

  He took it. And smiled. And felt the earth lift from his shoulders.

  It was a check. Well, sort of a check. Nothing he could cash in a bank, but then, this check he wouldn't need to.

  Still, he had to hear the words. "Are you sure?"

  She nodded. "I love you, Ben."

  He swept her up in his arms, business suit and low-heeled pumps and classy hairdo and all. He'd parked at the edge of a cycling trail, and now kissed her all the way there. Then he lowered her to the ground and opened the door of his truck.

  "Let's go."

  She climbed in and he followed, the slip of paper floating from his hand to the ground behind him, landing beneath the landscaped hedges next to a discarded bicycle chain.

  So it was only the birds who nested in the hedge and the squirrels that buried pecans in the loose dirt beneath who read what Heidi had written.

  Pay to the order of: Ben Tannen

  Amount: My love and the rest of my life.

  Signed: The Mighty Heidi Malone.

  Epilogue

  "THIS HAS GOT TO BE the screwiest wedding party in the history of wedding parties."

  Standing inside the small foyer of the Stonebridge Community Church, Quentin used the gilded lobby mirror to adjust the knot of his tie. He spoke to the other man's reflection.

  "We're in a church. We're not underwater or falling through the air or on a baseball field or wearing water skis. Be thankful for the little things."

  "What about the big things? Like the fact that I'm not old enough to be Heidi's father." Grumbling, Randy elbowed his way in front of the mirror to check the cut of his hair.

  "Age is no big deal. You want big? Try this on for size." Quentin pushed Randy back out of his way. "I'm not female enough to be Heidi's maid of honor."

  "Man of honor." Randy gave up and checked his reflection from over Quentin's shoulder. "I heard her make the distinction."

  "All I can say is that this is the end of The Deck as far as I'm concerned." Quentin fought loose the tie until the ends dangled free. "I've gone way above and beyond my duties as queen."

  Sunlight filled the small vestibule as Jack pulled open the church's front door. Smiling widely, sunglasses in place, he opened his arms. "Men! How is the MaidMan of Honor and the Phony Father of the Bride?"

  Quentin returned to his tie and the mirror. "Laugh all you want, Montgomery. You'll look back on this day with nothing but generic best man memories. I'll look back and remember..." he groaned, abandoned the tie "...how good I looked in plum?"

  "Here, here, now. Let me help you with that." Mrs. Jones scurried into the foyer from the church's nursery where she'd been fine-timing the bride.

  She turned her skills on Quentin. With quick work and nimble fingers, she adjusted his tie. Standing back, she clasped her hands to her mouth and surveyed her handiwork. "You look like a—"

  "A queen?" Randy supplied over her right shoulder.

  Cutting her eyes that direction, she reached back and smacked him on the arm. "Stop that nonsense. He looks like a vision. A pure vision."

  "A vision of what?" Quentin glanced down at his pants of dark purple linen, his lavender shirt, his plum silk tie. He couldn't decide if this vision was fruit or flower, even though Heidi had assured him the colors were androgynously unisex.

  Androgynous had never been a look he'd gone for. This maidman business was for the birds. But for Heidi...

  Mrs. Jones hooked her arm through Quentin's and shouldered Randy completely out of the picture as she stared at their mirrored images. She smiled widely, beamed even, and the next minute shook her finger in his face. "You have my Ben's ring?"

  Quentin pulled the braided gold band from his shirt pocket. “Right here."

  "What about you?" Mrs. Jones meant business when she glanced at Jack.

  “Yes, ma'am." Jack pushed his one elbow off the guestbook stand and flashed Heidi's ring stuck tight to the end of his little finger.

  "I don't know, Mrs. Jones," Randy said. He shook his head, working at a straight face. "That ring doesn't look very secure there to me."

  Mrs. Jones narrowed her eyes and headed toward Jack. "Let me see."

  "Trust me. It's safe." Jack slung his hand. The ring didn't even budge. "It's so safe that I'm close to losing the use of this finger for the rest of my life."

  "Well, let's get some soap and water before we run out of time and I pull out my sewing shears." Grabbing him by the lapel, Mrs. Jones headed toward the men's room.

  Footsteps clicked on the foyer's linoleum flooring. "Soap and water? Why, Mrs. Jones. Is one of these boys too dirty for church?"
<
br />   Quentin and Randy and Jack all turned at the new female voice. One at a time three mouths opened, three tongues dragged the floor, and three men stood dumbstruck at the figure standing in the doorway to the church nursery.

  Her dress was two layers, the top a sheer gown flowing to her knees in colors from lavender to plum, her patent leather alligator pumps dyed-to-match. But it was the layer of fabric clinging to her body causing the case of triple drop-jaw.

  The narrow sheath of a deep violet hue outlined every voluptuous curve of a very voluptuous body. She was tall, all legs and curves and a wild mane of hair. Her lips and nails were deep wine, her skin cafe latte.

  Quentin was the first to recover. "Georgia?"

  Georgia nodded, pressed an index finger to her chin. She glided into the foyer proper with a walk and a smile that didn't belong in a church. "My guess would be Quentin."

  Randy stepped between the two before Quentin could reply. "Randy, here. Jack, there. He's the one needing to be cleansed."

  "Hello, Randy. Jack." Georgia acknowledged both men, then turned to Quentin. "I admire your work. A lot."

  He accepted the compliment with a small bow. "You work with Heidi, so I know I admire yours."

  Georgia laughed, a deep chesty laugh that had three pair of male eyeballs popping out of three male heads. Even Jack, who received a resounding, "Get your behind back in here," from Mrs. Jones, stuck his head through the men's room door at the sound.

  "Well, I am so pleased to meet all you boys." Georgia sauntered farther into the foyer. "I've been hearing a lot of stories for a lot of years. It's nice to put names to faces and, uh, to the rest of you all."

  "Dang it, Georgia. Leave my men alone."

  Heidi stood in the nursery doorway and in that moment no other woman existed for the two men in the foyer and the one toweling his hands dry as he left the men's room with the ring as secure in his pocket as it had been on his finger.

  She'd forgone traditional bridal wear for a drop-waisted slip with a handkerchief hem on an ankle-length skirt of crinkled ivory. The accompanying jacket tied in front with satin ribbons, and antique lace edged the placket, the hem and the cuffs.