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Maryfoundherangerfadingandheartbreaktaking over. She went looking for Van, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to find him.
He was in his studio. The same slab of marble that had stood untouched in her garage was in the same condition here. Lengths of exotic wood stood at the ready for the long and growing list of Puppy Palace customers, but he hadn’t unpacked even a saw or hammer and nails yet. Nor, judging from the number of boxes she’d passed on her way to the studio, had he unpacked much of anything else.
Hesatathishugeworktable,whichstoodreadyfor anything he could demand of it. He wore a rumpled three-piece suit, but no tie, and the stubble on his face would qualify soon as a full-blown beard. Odd. No business tycoon look, but no jeans and T-shirt either.
He looked a million miles away and still did when he heard her at the door and glanced up.
Something was happening here, something that didn’t have much to do with washing your hands of your beloved dogs and taking them to a kennel.
She walked over to him, and he swiveled mechanically toward her. He didn’t smile, but he raised bloodshot eyes to hers. It hurt to see him like a lost little boy in pain. She touched her lips to his, and his throat worked. She skimmed her fingers down his neck and stroked her knuckles up with a feather touch. His breath had a tang of scotch, just a little, so he had dampened his sorrows only a bit. His lips under hers remained thin and firm.
Admitting defeat, or maybe not wanting all that muchtotryanyharder,shedrewback.“Whydidyou do it?”
He shrugged. Otherwise he didn’t answer. He was shutting her out. She was used to that, although she hadn’t altogether figured out the pattern in why it came and went. This felt colder and harder than any of the other times, though, and he’d never walled himself off against the dogs since he stopped insisting Lancelot belonged to his aunt.
Long moments of silence hung between them. What could she say to break through? What could she do? Did she want to?
Finally,hesaidinaharshvoice,“Yourbookisdead. All your work, all for nothing.”
“No, it’s not. I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet. I was hurrying home. I didn’t want to stop, even for a phone call. But we — ”
“Stop, Mary.”
“No. I’m trying to tell you we came to terms on the deal.”
“I’mtryingtotellyou wedidn’t.AndrettiandI.He’s pulling out of our deal for the factory.” Van’s voice was cold and empty and came to her as though he were very, very far away.
“But that means—”
“It means you don’t have a book to sell, no matter what agreement you’ve been able to come to with the publisher. It was supposed to be about the business deal where everybody wins. But there is no deal. Your Whiz Bang Businessman with a Difference isn’t so different after all. He’s just one more failed businessman.”
“But the company — ”
“Down the tubes. It’s just a matter of time.”
It took a while for the news to sink in. What was she going to do about this? Her dream had just taken off for parts unknown. So much for her new career as the writer of bestselling business books. For now, anyway.
But what did that mean? To her, and to them?
She consulted her brain, but she was too much in shockforherbraintobemakingmuchrationalsense right now. Never mind. Her brain never had given her the best ideas about what to do in any given situation, anyway.
She checked her body, head to toe. What was it saying about what she was feeling? Was it having trouble staying upright? Did it need to slump against the nearest wall? Actually, no. What about her shoulders? Were they slumped? Even sagging a little? Actually, no.
So, she didn’t seem to be experiencing any full-blown devastation from this news. Foggy, yes. Disappointed, oh yes. Unhappy, you’re darn right.
But ready to commit suicide? No. She didn’t seem to have any inclination to jump off even a Lego bridge built over a bowl of water.
Not until she looked at Van. That’s when she felt as though the iceberg that sank the Titanic had sailed on to smash into her.
He looked frozen. He looked as though someone had broken every perfectionist, protectionist bone in his body. He looked as though he was shutting her out so hard she’d never find a chink in his armor again.
Herheartexplodedinherchest.Hecouldn’tdothis to her. He couldn’t do this to them.
“I want you,” he said without expression.
“I know. I need to have you too.”
He stood, and then bent and picked her up. He carried her up the stairs. She’d have given a lot for a little Rhett Butler showing through in Van right then, even if it was a Rhett with angry steam coming out of his ears. At least he’d been feeling something as he carried Scarlett up the stairs.
