The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,62
Absolutely not. You’re not going to cancel your plans. Mom and Aunt Min have been excited out of their minds about meeting with your wedding planner and getting started on the details today.”
“They’re excited. I’m not. This is my second marriage. Ben and I want a simple ceremony in the backyard and a lemon cake from the bakery down the street.”
“I know. Keep reminding them.”
“Have you heard any more from Griff?”
“Not a peep. I think he finally got the message.”
“I hope so. If he gives you any trouble, call me and I’ll send somebody to toss him out.”
Cass laughed for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours. “You forget I have a baseball bat under my bed.”
“Seriously, Cass, call me if you need me. Should I tell Mom and Aunt Min about this?”
“No. I feel like enough of a fool without everybody knowing about it. Just play dumb, and later I’ll tell them things didn’t work out for us. Mom will be thrilled.”
After she hung up, Cass wandered into the bathroom and stared at her reflection. Talk about being “rode hard and put away wet.” She looked worse than terrible, but her eyes didn’t seem quite so puffy after the compress, and her headache had eased some. After showering and dressing, she took half an hour to skillfully apply a ton of makeup without it looking troweled on. Not bad.
She pasted a grin on her face. “It’s showtime.”
Downstairs, she unlocked the back door for arriving employees and began her usual routine. Her phone rang and she jumped three feet. Pulling her cell from her pocket, she saw the POAC secretary’s name and answered. After they ended the call, Cass checked her voice mail and noted twenty-seven messages from Griff. She should have deleted them immediately, but some masochistic perversion had kept her from it. She might even listen to them someday when she needed reminding what an idiot she’d been.
Lunchtime came and went without incident. They had a moderate crowd. With the nearby government offices closed, Saturdays usually weren’t extremely busy.
About three-thirty, Griff walked in the front door. He hadn’t shaved, his blue eyes were bloodshot and he generally looked like hell.
She met him before he got too far inside. “Griff, please leave. We have nothing more to say.”
“Will you give me at least five minutes, Cass? I need to talk to you.”
“Not today.”
“When? If I call you tomorrow or come by, will you talk to me?” His eyes seemed to plead, and she almost caved.
“I don’t know. There is one question I’d like to ask you, and I’d like a truthful answer.”
“Anything,” he said. “Ask it.”
“Was ZASM responsible for the break-in and flooding here?”
“I swear to God, Cass, I knew nothing about it and was in no way responsible.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. He had the most woebegone expression she’d ever seen as he looked her straight in the eye and sucked in a deep breath. “However, I’ve had my suspicions about Walt. I can’t be sure, but he might have done it. The man is crazy.”
Cass thought she might faint, and her voice quavered as she said, “And this man is your partner? What the hell kind of business are you involved in? Where are your ethics? I’ve heard enough. Please leave. Now.”
“Cass—”
“I don’t want to hear another word. If you don’t leave quietly, I’ll have you thrown out, and if you persist in bothering me, I’ll get a restraining order.” She turned and walked away before she had a total meltdown.
Hiding out in the office, she sat behind the desk and buried her face in her hands. What was wrong with her? As she’d stood talking to Griff, a terrible longing had come over her, and she’d wanted to throw herself into his arms and have him hold her and comfort her. Was she stark raving mad? He was the cause of her pain.
She clenched her teeth and laced her fingers tightly together until her shaking stopped. She would get through this, she told herself over and over like a mantra. She was a survivor.
BUSINESS PICKED UP FOR dinner, and she was pleased to see several old friends. Ben McKee’s sister and brother-in-law, Tracy and Rick, stopped in with their two little girls.
“We’ve come for the bestest chili in the world,” the younger one said.
“And some larrupin’ peach cobbler,” the other one added. “Uncle Ben says larrupin’ means delicious.”
Cass smiled, really smiled, showed them to a table and chatted for a