Bittersweet Surrender (2 page)

Carly considered this. She was flat-chested (technically not her fault), twenty-five pounds overweight (technically her fault),
and
she was hard to live with? She held out her hand for more candy. “I'm good with that.”

When they arrived in the kitchen, Scott stuffed a few more chocolate kisses into a glass goblet.

“It's enough that you're doing my taxes, Scott. You don't have to stuff the candy jars too.”

Scott laughed. “It gives me a little reprieve from the paperwork.”

“How's that going, by the way? Do I dare ask?” Carly cringed, knowing full well how she neglected book work. Keeping records and receipts were not her forte. She pulled a mug from the cabinet.

“If you don't want your mood to dive further south, we'd better save this discussion for later.”

“That bad?” One look at his face made her gulp.
That bad.

“I'll figure it out. Just give me some time. I've seen worse.”

His expression told her he'd seen it happen once and the business had folded.

“I'm sorry, Scott. I should have taken better care of things. And I should have told you sooner I wanted you to take over the tax preparation. I don't know why I waited so long to ask for your help.”

“Pride.”

“Excuse me?”

“You try to handle everything yourself. Never want others to help you. Stubborn pride.”

“I'll argue with you after you get the taxes done. I can't afford to hire someone else. Want some coffee?” She poured herself a cup.

“No, I'm trying to cut back.”

She turned to him and made a face. “Well, stop it.” Taking a sip from her mug, she watched as he walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a small can of tomato juice.

Carly pointed to it. “If you let our guests see that, it could be bad for business.”

“My body is a temple and all that.” He winked.

His comment brought her first pang of guilt for the morning. She had taken two swigs of coffee, though, so that might have been the reason. Once her senses sparked to life, she felt sure guilt over her morning behavior would hit full-on. It didn't help her attitude that Scott was taking a healthy turn.

They headed into their shared office and toward their individual desks. She sighed at the scatter of papers on her desk before glaring at the gleaming one across from her.

Why was she being so hard on him? Scott hadn't had things easy either.

“I need to drop a few pounds, so I thought I'd start by making healthier eating choices.” Scott turned on his computer.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Note the word ‘health' in that sentence somewhere?”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you sneak it in. Don't do it again. You're just trying to make me feel guilty.”

“Why would I do that? You look great. I'm the one with the middle-aged gut,” he said, patting his midsection.

She immediately sucked in her stomach and was pretty sure it made her cheeks puff out.

“You got a reunion coming up or something?” It was impossible to talk and hold her breath at the same time. Her stomach spilled into its usual place.

“No reason. Just figured it was time.” He paused, looking at something on his desk. “Hey, do you know if we got that shipment of chocolate oil in yet?”

“Came yesterday,” she said, studying him. It amazed her how he could brush people and conversations off and just throw himself into his work. No transition, just
Boom, you're done
. Carly could see why Ivy used to complain about it. He could be irritating.

“Do you have the invoice?”

“It's on your desk.” There was something suspicious going on, she could feel it. “You seeing someone?”

He stopped shuffling through papers and gave her
the stare
.

“There is no law against it, Scott.”

“You women are all alike. You can't stand to see a man single and happy.”

“Is that what you are?”

He paused. “I'm getting along.”

She needed to tread easy. “Just remember you have some life yet to live.” A tinge of guilt ran through her. Life forged ahead, and they had to move on, but it was so hard to think about him with someone other than Ivy. It had been seven months since the accident, but it was still hard to talk about his wife—her best friend. Carly missed her so much.

“I don't need a woman to live. And correct me if I'm wrong here, but I don't exactly see you joining the singles' circuit either.”

She could have snapped back with news of her online, very serious interest in Jake Mitchell, but she wasn't sure she was ready for anyone to know that yet.

“Oh, you know, it's different when you're divorced,” she said with lighthearted flare. Though she felt anything but lighthearted when she thought of Gary walking out on her.

“Double standards, eh?”

“Something like that.” She smiled and dug into the candy drawer of her desk, pulling out a couple pieces of chocolate. “Well, it's a real challenge to lose weight at a chocolate spa.” She popped the sweet treats into her mouth.

Scott shook his head. “Hey, you could always take Magnolia's advice and make this a sugar-free chocolate spa instead.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

This health-kick thing was going to get on her nerves. “My stepmother is a frustrated woman with nothing better to do than eat bean sprouts and criticize my unhealthy lifestyle—with a smile on her face, of course,
dear
,” she said, mimicking her stepmother.

Spotting a rubber band on her desk, she picked it up and flipped it at him. It hit the target, and he grabbed his shoulder. “Ow.”

“Serves you right.”

“Is Magnolia still living in the rental apartment she shared with your dad?” he asked.

“Yeah, but she's talked about moving. I get the feeling they had some financial problems. Though I can't imagine it. Dad was always great with money.” Carly still couldn't believe that a heart attack had taken her dad from her only six months ago.

“Maybe she brought a lot of debt into the marriage.” He pulled something from his drawer and laid it on the desk while he clicked a few keys on his computer.

“Maybe.”

“Too bad they didn't keep one of their houses. I never understood their reasoning for moving into a rental.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Where do you think she'll end up?” he asked.

“Who knows? She's such a social person.” Carly shuffled her papers around, sorting them into tidy stacks. “She'll probably move in with one of her friends or something.”

“Or something,” he said, stretching the rubber band, staring her straight through.

She held her hands up. “Don't even think about it.”

He dropped the weapon.

“What do you mean by that, anyway?” She walked over to the filing cabinet and thumbed through it.

“Just that she could end up staying with almost . . . anyone,” he said.

“If I played those words in reverse, would they tell me something?”

“Just make sure she doesn't guilt you into taking her in.”

Her fingers stopped thumbing.

“You didn't,” he said.

“Well, no, I didn't actually offer. I just said, um, ‘If you get in a pinch, you're welcome, um, here.'”

He frowned.

“Well, before he died, Dad made me promise to look after her. What could I do?”

Scott put his hand to his forehead and groaned.

“Come on, Scott, it's not like she'll take me up on it. She has plenty of friends.” Carly shoved the cabinet drawer closed. “Besides, she is family. Of course she'd be welcome . . . for a while anyway.”

Magnolia was a blend of sweetness and control freak—with a definite tilt toward the control side. She would tell people what to do and then throw in a smile she obviously thought seemed to make it all okay. Although since Ivy's and Magnolia's husband's deaths, she hadn't been smiling all that much. Not only that, but her personality had a teensy edge to it these days.

Scott's phone rang and cut off the discussion. Carly turned her attention to the paperwork on her desk and tried all the while to ignore her rising panic. She didn't have anything to worry about. It wasn't like Magnolia
wanted
to live with her.

She looked over at Scott, who was adding some figures on his calculator while talking on the phone. It helped them both for him to share the office with Carly. He had little overhead for his business, and in turn he helped Carly around the spa when she needed a handyman. His service had proved invaluable when it came to plugged toilets, erupting hot tubs, and employee battles. He'd also taken over the tax preparation Ivy had done in the past.

Besides, Scott had a way with the women, and was nice looking to boot, which helped business tremendously.

He hung up the phone, punched a few more numbers, then said, “What's on your plate this morning?” He seemed to have forgotten all about the Magnolia discussion.

“I have a chocolate massage at ten o'clock.”

He shook his head. “I don't know why you women like to smear food on yourselves. There's just something weird to me about smelling like a hot fudge sundae.”

Lifting the papers out of her to-do box, she looked at him. “I can think of worse things.”

Just then her phone rang. Amber, buzzing through Carly's sister-in-law.

“Good morning, Rita.”

“You still doing my facial today?” Rita asked.

“I think so. Why?”

“We haven't had much time to visit lately, and I was hoping to get you.”

“It's nice to be wanted,” Carly teased. Her calendar was within reach, so she grabbed it and reviewed the day's list. “Yep, you're on for three thirty, right after school.”

“Great. I'm looking forward to it. See you then.” With that, Rita clicked off.

Carly was glad she hadn't given her sister-in-law's appointment to someone else. Since Rita got her spa treatments free, they sometimes tossed her between the workers; whoever had the light schedule on the day of her appointment was assigned to her. Rita was grateful for the benefit and offered a generous tip, so the employees were happy to oblige.

With a sigh, Carly sat back.

Scott looked up, saw her face. “Everything okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn't it be?”

He shrugged and turned his attention back to their company taxes.

Everything was fine. So why did she have that weird feeling in the pit of her stomach?
Maybe it was the coffee and chocolate on an empty stomach. Or maybe it was the look on Scott's face while he studied the company finances on his computer.

Carly walked into the waiting area and
saw Rita. Her corn-silk hair set her apart from the two brunettes in the waiting room. How Carly's brother had been able to nab such a cute pixie of a girl, she'd never know. He was the spittin' image of
Bonanza's
Hoss Cartwright and had been told so many times. Probably why he did so well in his photography business. He enjoyed his work and people thought him a loveable galoot. And he was—most of the time.

Still, he'd changed a lot over the last year. More self-absorbed, almost harsh. Whenever Carly asked him about it, he brushed off her comments and insisted things were fine. But his growing affection for alcohol said otherwise.

“Hey, girl, when you finish your hot chocolate you can come on back.”

Rita drank the last drop and tossed the cup into a wicker basket. “I'm finished.”

“How was second grade today?” Carly asked as they headed to the treatment room.

“Oh, those kids are great. I love every day I spend with them.”

Rita was a perfect teacher. Her love for children was obvious.

“So what new trinket is my brother into these days?”

Rita chuckled. “Bite your tongue.”

Carly laughed. C. J. usually paid top dollar for the latest gadgets because he couldn't wait for the prices to go down before he bought them. It was a joke in the family, but from her private discussions with Rita, Carly realized it had gotten them into financial trouble more often than not.

In the treatment room, Carly left while Rita disrobed enough to keep the oils from her clothes and slipped beneath the warm blanket on the table.

Carly clicked on the CD player. Relaxing violin music wafted through the air as she set to work on Rita's skin. Using the appropriate cleanser, she rubbed it on Rita's face. Within seconds, her sister-in-law was putty in Carly's hands.

Carly was dying to catch up on other things, but she knew better than to talk to someone while they were getting spa treatments. Unless, of course, they started the conversation. So she waited patiently.