“Anyway, when I finished my courses, there was no choice but to leave my father’s house. I found my escape through John.” She fell silent at the surge of unpleasant memories of tearful shouting and slamming doors.
“And he wasn’t what you thought?”
“In some ways, he was exactly what I thought. He was driven, hard-working, and had good ties with his family in England. But I didn’t realize that he saw my job as merely a diversion. Once we married, he didn’t want me to continue working.”
“Ah, the type of man who wants to provide for his wife.”
“You make me sound so ungrateful.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “But yes, it’s true. He wanted to be the sole provider, and he wanted me to fulfill the duties of a homemaker. Naturally, I didn’t take well to it.”
“I can’t say I would enjoy that either.”
“You don’t want to be a kept man?”
“When you put it that way, it sounds rather delightful.”
She tossed a piece of grass at him. “You’d be bored by the end of the week, just like I was. My mother and sister despaired of me, couldn’t understand why I always wanted more, but I did. I couldn’t help it. John and I fought endlessly—we both felt we’d entered a marriage under false pretenses. Feels strange, if not inappropriate, to say that his death enabled my adventure, but there we are.”
Mack fished out the last two clams, pried them open, and handed one to her. “But how did you end up in Seattle?”
It was hard to resist Mack when he gave her his undivided attention. He had this way of making a person feel like their story mattered—no wonder he’d become a successful newspaperman. She drew a breath and plunged forward.
“After John died, there were some concerns about his death. His assets were frozen, and soon the townhouse we lived in became too expensive. I rented it out and moved back home with my parents for the remainder of my mourning period, but I had already changed so much that I chafed under my father’s rules. And then I saw a newspaper advertisement about the Puget Sound.”
“Maybe I wrote it.” He waggled his brows. “What if I’m the reason you’re here?”
“Don’t you wish.”
“There are few things I want to take responsibility for in my life, but that would be one of them,” he assured her.
That warm feeling spread throughout her chest again, and she cleared her throat. “Anyway, two months ago, I used my remaining funds to secure my travel. The rest, as they say, is history.”
But he didn’t smile at her quip. “What do you mean, your remaining funds? What happened to your husband’s will? What would prevent a will from being settled, what, two years after a man’s death?”
She sighed. “It was one year and ten months ago. John was half owner of a London-based shipping company he inherited from his father’s side. He sailed to London to negotiate new terms, and there was an accident on site. His body was found in the Thames.”
“Good God, Winnie. That’s horrible.”
“It was traumatic news, I can assure you. But the worst part is that no witnesses came forward. I’ve spent what funds I didn’t use for my relocation on a private investigator. He’s made progress, but not enough for the courts to rule in my favor. Until they can prove that his death was an accident on company property, the settlement is still pending.”
Mack glowered at the ground, the clams forgotten. “I had no idea.”
“Why would you? I don’t exactly share my business at the office.”
“Right, but if I’d known…”
“If you’d known, what?”
“I would have tried harder not to be such an ass.”
She snorted. “Then Idefinitelyshould have told you sooner.”
“The day of the fire, you asked me…”
“Why you hate me so much.” A trickle of hurt resurfaced at the memory of the dismissal that had sent her stomping off to Clem’s house.
“For the record, I don’t and I never have.” He cleared his throat. “The truth is, I admire you. In fact, you intimidate me.”
“Me? Intimidating?” How could she, a widowed stenographer, intimidate someone like Mack Donnelly, a man who, by all appearances, led a very successful life?
