Leaving Amy (Amy #2) (25 page)

“Just a potential client. I tried not to beat him too bad.” His side grin lifted his mustache a little.

“Hmm…well then, I know you’re starving.”

We had the doors opened to the ballroom by two finely dressed men. They looked like toy soldiers. This was the Chamber of Commerce holiday event. Every year they spared no expense in the catering and decorating for the party. Each business affiliated with the association tried to outdo whoever was involved with it the previous year. As I looked around the room, a smile spread across my face. Three decorated trees almost reached the ceiling. White lights twinkled and red Christmas balls hung from the branches. The reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows made my heart happy. Festive music played softly in the background by an orchestra out of Portland, and everyone sparkled like ornaments out on the dancefloor. Daddy had brought me and Ashley one year, and I remember just staring at the men twirling their dates around, wishing one day that would be me. I was overcome with joy and the full circle my life had come. Even if sorrow from the absence of my parents shadowed the corners of it.

Tom escorted me to the table of food. It seemed to stretch for a half mile. There were roasted ducks, roasted turkeys, jewel-colored fruit salads, cheeses, dips…everything you could imagine. And a few people with watchful eyes ready to replace whatever needed replenishing. Tom handed me a plate with a painted tree on it and waited for me to begin.

I could’ve sworn my mouth salivated just looking at the dishes. Had I been alone, I’d have taken a heaping spoonful of everything, just to try it. But trying to be a lady in my form-fitting red dress, I took tiny mounds of samples. I grabbed a fluted glass of champagne at the end and waited for my date to finish piling his plate.

On the way to our table nestled in the back where we wouldn’t be bothered, we stopped and said our hellos to friends we mutually knew through other charity events of the year. I tried not to seem rushed, but the truth was I envisioned diving into my plate with my mouth before we sat down.

“Finally,” I said as we parked our bottoms on the chairs. “I’m starving.”

“I hear ya. I purposely avoided Hipkins’s table. I knew they’d ask us to join them. And then we’d have to hear about investing our money in stocks for the rest of our meal.”

“Thank you,” I said, beginning to devour the caramelized turkey. Its aroma began my digestion process even before it made it to my lips.

“I see you didn’t get any caviar. Here, want some of mine?” Tom handed me a cracker with the little black dots invading it.

My stomach churned. “No thanks. I couldn’t bring myself to eating fish eggs.”

“Are you serious? You don’t know what you’re missing.” He held it closer to my face, looking at me with raised eyebrows—his puppy-dog face. “Try it.”

“Tom—”

When I opened my mouth, that rascal shoved it in. I half-bit into his finger on accident. He recoiled his hand and shook out the hurt. I nearly choked as the dry cracker inhaled down my throat. Then I broke out into laughter. Pure, pee-my-pants laughter. His face was mortified. Big eyes, gaping mouth—I couldn’t help but laugh.
That
’
s what you get.
I swallowed the eggs whole and tried not to become sick. I tasted the salty aftertaste.

I grabbed his finger and pulled it close to me. And when I did, he came attached with it. His head bumped into mine and I couldn’t help but burst out with more laughter. We’d become a mess. A caviar-stuffing-mouth, finger-biting mess. I stopped snorting long enough to see his eyes inches from mine. I sat up and released his hand. I quickly glanced past our table and saw a few eyes had settled on the spectacle of us. I smoothed out the napkin on my lap and grabbed for my glass of champagne and gulped it down—whole.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that you made me try a pretzel with all that—”

“Cinnamon sugar? Are you serious? This is raw fish eggs, Tom!” I tried to keep my voice low.

“Well…”

He resumed eating his tiny feast on the plate and I as well. A sadness seeped over me like a slow burn as a few thoughts fought their way through my mind. This would be our last party to attend as friends. We’d crossed some type of line, anyway, in our friendship that made moments like that one feel sticky, and I was going to be moving out.

“What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?”

I tried to fake a smile. “Nothing.”

“Amy, I know you. Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing, Tom. I’m going to go up for dessert. Do you want anything?”

“No.” His head lowered to his plate.

I got up and carried my almost-emptied plate. I know etiquette was to leave it on the table, but I thought I’d make it easier on the wait staff and carry it to them. I was stopped by a familiar face.

“Amy?”

It was Claire.
What was she doing here?
I thought she and Nick were recluses.

“Claire?”

“I told Nick that was you. What are you doing here with Tom McTavish?”

I looked back at the table I’d just left. My handsome date was sitting there, still stumped by my quick departure.

“Tom and I are friends. We go way back.” Not really all that way, but it sounded less espionage-like than:
We just hooked up. By the way, we have semi-matching tattoos.

“Oh.” She grabbed at her chest. It was a naked chest. The front of her dress plunged almost down to her belly button. Jennifer Lopez had nothing over Claire tonight.
Whoa, that took some bravado to wear that out of the house.
Blue sparkly things sewn to her gown kept your vision blurry so you wouldn’t stare at her missing cleavage.

“You look amazing, Claire.”

She blushed out a smile and grabbed her mouth. “I bought this the very minute Nick called and told me we were coming tonight. It seems there’s no one else here to represent the law firm. You know, with poor Jeff and Margaret gone, and Wesley on his trip.”

Just about then, Nick strolled up to us. He looked uncomfortable in his monkey suit, pulling at his collar and fidgeting with his tight cummerbund. He looked like one of those dolls you could squeeze the stomach and his eyes would pop. I thought I saw a bead of sweat on his brow.

“Amy, what are you doing here with Tom McTavish?”

I let out a sigh as a passerby hostess took my empty plate. I smiled and thanked her before I went into my spill about who Tom was to me.

“We’re just here as friends. There’s no stake in it for him, I assure you.”

“Oh, yeah? Just look over there now. He’s hobnobbing with Frank Cabrella.” He nodded toward the table I just left.

I looked to see a large Santa-like man looking up at Tom and smiling with his two cherry-colored cheeks. A slender lady in the shape of a bean pole towered over the stranger and smiled like a blooming sunflower.

“You’ve got to go back over there, Amy.”

“Who’s Frank Cabrella?” I asked.

“He’s the owner of the building over off Merchant Street and Ivy. He’s going to be manufacturing some type of dental equipment. Jeff reached out to him and it’s still a possibility he hasn’t found a law firm to represent his company.” He pulled at his shirt collar. “Unless Tom McTavish has offered his firm as a possibility.”

I looked at Claire. She gulped down her tumbler of whatever. Her eyes glazed over as the seconds ticked by.

“Okay, okay.”

Nick was ready to blow a button if I didn’t promise to go talk to the guy.
As if I knew what to say.

Just as I began to walk off, Nick pulled my arm and whispered in my ear. “Amy, if we get Cabrella’s account, we might have a chance to stay in business. Otherwise…”

Good Lord. Why did he have to say it like that?
Certainly Nick was more like Chicken Little when it came to business affairs. I knew the company needed clients, especially with Jeff gone, but the demise of it? I took a deep breath and began my way back to Tom. Who was laughing and patting Frank Cabrella’s arm like an old school chum.

“Hello,” I interjected.

The shorter gentleman turned his body toward mine, a smile growing large on his face. “Well hello.” He looked at Tom. “This must be your lovely wife, Tom. I know we didn’t get to talk much today, with all that ball pounding, but I recognize compatibility when I see it.”

“That and we saw you five minutes ago sitting here together,” Frank’s wife added. She touched my arm. “Hello, I’m Susan Cabrella. This man who has your hand is my husband, Frank.”

The heat rose off my face like rain on hot asphalt. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. But, I’m not Tom’s wife. I’m his friend.”

After Frank’s eyes settled back into their sockets, he took his hand back and apologized. “I’m so sorry, I just assumed.”

“No need to apologize.” I looked at Tom and fought to smile. What a pleasant thought to imagine I was his compatible mate. The truth was that I wasn’t. I tried to play it off. “I’m Tom’s honorary guest at these functions. I keep him from being the wallflower.”

“This is Amy Whitfield.” Tom spoke up.

“Whitfield…Whitfield. Any relation to Whitfield, Martin, and Tillion?” Frank asked.

“That would be my father-in-law. He and my father, Henry Martin, opened the firm thirty years ago. Jeff Tillion is the third partner.”

Susan touched her husband’s shoulder. “Don’t we have a dinner date this coming Wednesday with a Mr. Whitfield?”

Frank half-turned toward his wife. “I think we do.” He scratched his chin. “Wesley, I believe his name is. We’re meeting at the restaurant down by the waterside.”

“That would be my husband.”

Frank’s mouth dropped a little. “I see. Well, he did say his wife would be joining him, kind of make it less business and more personal, I suppose.”

“I’ll be there, too,” Susan piped in with a pleasant smile. “I can’t wait to try it. I read where they specialize in crab cakes. You don’t get seafood in Iowa. Just a hundred ways to make potatoes.”

We all laughed, but I noticed Tom wasn’t. That smile he wears without emotion just sat tightly on his lips.

“Well, speaking of crab, I was on my way up to get some of that dip. It was a pleasure meeting you both. I look forward to Wednesday.” Not really, but this was my lot in life.
Go back to my husband, save the company from financial ruin, and live happily ever after.

I smiled and snuck off to the bar. I needed a little infusion of whatever Claire had in her glass. She seemed unresponsive to the things going on around her. And if she could wear that dress without humiliation, I needed what was in her cup. I needed that feeling, too. On my way there, I saw Nick escorting Claire out the main entrance. I supposed it was time for them to leave. Claire had had her drink, Nick had made his appearance, and they were assured I’d made an impression on the Cabrellas.
Now for a hot toddy for me.

“Cranberry and vodka, please,” I said to the bartender.

I felt a hand on the small of my back after I said it. I turned to find Tom.

“Hold off on the drink, will ya?” he said to the guy who was pulling out the bottle of vodka from the back shelf.

“Dance with me, Amy.” His eyes were drunk with pleasure.

I could’ve fallen into them if I stared longer. “Tom—”

He took my hand and led me to the dance floor. “The Christmas Song” was playing. The saxophone sounded extra jazzy for the number. I melted in Tom’s strong arms as he pulled me close to him. His steady breathing pushed against my ribcage where my heart beat about, banging like a criminal trying to escape. This felt too good for me to ever want to leave it. My body became limper and I rested my cheek against his. Who cares who was watching, as I was sure the Cabrellas might be. They didn’t have a clue what I’d gone through this past year. Wesley’s cheating heart, Mark’s abandonment…Tom’s enduring feelings. Mine for him.

I was almost seduced by the pleasure of feeling the heat from his face against mine when I saw her. The look in her eyes. The knowing, yet guarded look of figuring it all out. Kate stood at the doorway, people flanked on either side of her. She was locked in a stare with me. My body became rigid and my heartbeat fluttered before it fell back into a normal rhythm.

“Tom, Kate’s here,” I whispered into his ear, trying not to enjoy the closeness of our bodies any longer.

“So?”

I pulled away slightly. The song was coming to an end. So was my dance with him. “So, this isn’t cool that I’m dancing in this way with you. It’s not nice.”

“Amy, I’m in control with whom I want to dance with. And, I’m holding her right now.”

I looked him in the eyes, trying to combat the irresistibility of them. “Tom, it’s an honor among woman that if one knows how much the other one wants you, you don’t infringe. Especially if that woman is a widow, trying her best to make the next one be her forever. And I being the girl who will be married and having dinner next week with a client.”

“Amy,” he said as I pulled away.

I walked with quick and long strides toward Kate. She looked beautiful. Her black hair was up in a French twist, the emerald gown she wore looked like deep water, and her smile was genuine and sweet. Queen of the prom, valedictorian, and America’s sweetheart rolled up into one.

“Kate, you look gorgeous.”

“Thank you, Amy. You look amazing.”

“Can I steal you away for a second?”

She looked at the group of friends she walked in with and pointed to me. “I’ll be a minute, guys. I’ll catch up with you. Go and eat something.”

I didn’t look where Tom had gone on purpose. I needed to stop fantasizing this was a date with my Prince Charming and get to the part where I’d disappear into a pumpkin, or rather a cab, by the stroke of midnight.

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” I said, touching her delicate arm.

“I know. I didn’t expect to be here, myself. But, my wonderful friends had other plans for me.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

She played with her necklace. “I did, however, suspect Tom might be here.”

“And he’s yours for the taking!” I shook a little when I said it. Like one of those tremors after you felt an earthquake seconds ago. What was I doing?
The only right thing I should be doing.