Chapter Six
The apartment was large, luxurious and lonely. The fancy art on the walls, the rich jewel colors in the lounge, the state-of-art appliances in the kitchen mocked Laura. Money didn’t purchase contentment. Happiness came from within. Happiness came from friendship, from mutual trust. Happiness was the emotion she experienced with Dallas.
She should’ve argued when he’d kissed her cheek and said goodbye.
The phone rang and she absently answered it.
“You’re home,” her mother said in an aggrieved voice.
“I am.” Her mother had rung every day since the weekend. Two days of interrogations and nagging.
“You should be here. James is looking lonely.”
He missed his lover. If his boyfriend had any sense, he’d give James grief for even considering marriage to a woman. If Laura was the boyfriend, she’d pop James on his aristocratic nose. “I told you the pass is still closed because of the third slip. The council is still dealing with several big landslides in the area. It’s impossible for me to get to Clare.”
“I could have sent the helicopter. You will attend the wedding.”
Laura hesitated. Maybe sheshouldspeak with James instead of avoiding him. And meanwhile, she’d go to Dallas, their agreement in hand. The document worked both ways, and he wasn’t getting away from her this easy. No matter that he’d wanted written agreement, spelling out her lack of coercion. She didn’t blame his caution. Her family wasn’t above using dirty tactics—or paying someone to do their muck playing.
She glanced at the document, which was sitting on the kitchen counter. She made a mental note to hide it in case one of her family popped in without warning. Dallas had tossed it in the trash. She’d rescued the crumpled pages, instinct propelling her to stuff it in her bag.
“Laura, are you listening to me?”
“Yes, I’ll be at the wedding, but I won’t arrive until Friday night. I have work to do.” She didn’t bother telling her mother she’d handed in her notice. The head of the charity had said they were sorry because she’d worked out better than they’d anticipated. They’d written a reference, which also sat on the kitchen counter. Something else to hide from prying eyes.
“I’ll ring your boss—”
“No, you won’t. Mother, doesn’t Aunt Janet require help with the arrangements? How are Suzanna and William? Are you babysitting this week?” In desperation, Laura lobbed questions to distract her parent. Her mother launched into a description of her niece and nephew and their stunning brilliance.Score.
“I’m sure it won’t be long before you and James have children of your own,” her mother added.
They’d be a long time coming when Laura dreamed of little boys with inky black hair and blue eyes. “I’ll see you on Friday,” Laura said, firmly ignoring her mother’s comment and her over-active imagination. “Work is busy. I’m going to be in and out of the apartment. There are several work functions and a training course, so don’t panic if you get the machine.”
“I’ll ring your cell phone.”
“Okay, but I have to turn it off during the meetings. Leave a message on the voice mail.”
“Make sure you return my calls.” Parental directive issued, her mother hung up.
Laura sighed and reached for her winter-white coat and stuffed her feet into warm boots. Hard to believe it was officially spring. She wound a red woolen scarf around her neck, placed the agreement and the reference in her handbag and went outside to wave down a cab.
Dallas’s pub was in a rough area. She studied the uninspiring public house from the outside. Square and black, the building stretched upward about three, perhaps four floors. The sole color was a turquoise sign illuminating the entrance above the door.O’Grady’s.
Due to the weather, the outside seating was abandoned, the tops of the wooden tables bearing a layer of damp from the recent shower.
“Are you sure this is the right address, miss?” the cabbie asked.
“Positive.” She beamed and handed over the fare. “Thank you.”
Bracing herself against the cold, she climbed from the cab and stood for a second. After a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and navigated the puddles to the pub entrance. She’d decided to come unannounced and, at eleven in the morning, hoped to find the place fairly empty.
An elderly woman manned the bar, her deft hands stacking bottles, labels-front, in the chiller.
“Excuse me,” Laura said. “Is Dallas O’Grady here?”
The woman halted her task and straightened to regard her with sharp eyes. “Do you have an appointment?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Laura said.Blast!Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Is he busy?”
