words, saying I sent a hitman to kill her. I need a gag order immediately.”
“Why? The words have already been said. The world has heard them. Your smartest move is to keep your mouth shut and leave her the hell alone. And that’s advice coming from your lawyer.”
“But she can’t prove I said them,” Blaine argued.
“And you can’t prove you didn’t,” he said. “You caused this by stalking her…which, may I say, makes you look guilty as hell. How long did you have her watched and tailed before she left Vegas?”
Blaine didn’t answer.
“Once she was gone, why did you care where she went? She wasn’t bothering you. She wasn’t interfering in your business.”
Again, Blaine was quiet.
“Think about it, Mr. Wagner. Think very carefully. You need to hire a public relations firm to clean up your image and quit worrying about a woman who divorced you. If she files charges against you, you are going to have a hard time explaining why you felt the need to stalk her for all these months…and why you sent someone all the way across the country to find where she went. You, sir, are teetering on the brink of a personal disaster. And that’s speaking as your lawyer, of course. If you have need of my services, you know how to reach me.”
Blaine hung up. His heart was hammering against his chest in panicked irregularity. If anything happened to her now, he would be the first one the authorities would blame.
He got up from the table and walked out onto the terrace beyond the breakfast room to get some air. He needed to think. Maybe a long trip abroad would be the answer. Just let everything die down, and by the time he came back, this would all be old news.
Just as he was feeling like he’d settled on a plan that would work, his phone rang again, and when he saw who was calling, it occurred to him that he might not be able to run far enough or fast enough to get away from what was coming down on him now.
So he took a deep breath and shifted the tone of his voice into one of authority.
“Hello. This is Blaine.”
“Mr. Wagner. We need to talk.”
Blaine sat down on a bench out on the terrace, gripping his phone in white-knuckled fear, listening to the displeasure and the thinly veiled threat in the Chairman’s voice.
“You made a very dangerous mistake, and we are not pleased,” the Chairman said. “Any shadow of indiscretion on you comes back on us as well. You see that, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I understand, but let me assure you that none of this is true,” Blaine said.
“Don’t lie. You aren’t good at it. What you need to understand is that we expect all of this to go away ASAP. If you persist in your pursuit of this woman, then I advise you to get your affairs in order.”
Oh Jesus. “I have no intention of engaging her further. I will be traveling abroad for the next few months, giving all of this time to fade away,” Blaine said.
“Consider yourself warned,” the Chairman said, and hung up.
Blaine’s stomach roiled. He stood, then lurched to the side of the terrace, leaned over the railing, and threw up until there was nothing left in his belly but the fear of God the Chairman had just delivered.
* * *
It was just after 9:00 a.m. Thanksgiving morning when Jack saw a white delivery van coming up the drive.
“Hey, isn’t that the delivery van from Franklin’s Flower Shop?” he said.
Hope looked out the window as the van stopped in the front yard, and then Mr. Franklin got out and went to the back of the van. When he appeared again, he was carrying a very ornate arrangement of flowers, all in autumn colors.
Jack opened the door as Harold came up the steps.
“Wow, that’s some bouquet!” Jack said.
“I was told Cathy Terry was here,” Harold said. “These are for her.”
“Yes, she’s here. Hey, Cathy!” Jack yelled.
Cathy was in the kitchen peeling potatoes, and stopped to wipe her hands before hurrying toward the living room as Duke came down the stairs to join them.
“What’s going on?” she asked, and then saw the flowers. “Good grief!”
“Delivery for Cathy Terry,” Harold said. “Myra got the call late yesterday evening, and the orders were specific…that they be delivered to you today. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone,” he said.
Duke took the vase.
“Where should I put this?” he asked. “It can’t go on the dining room