This couldn’t stand. Gray wasn’t certain he could ever repair the chasm between them, but he didn’t want her in Kansas. The thought was intolerable.
He raced outside and toward the nearest streetcar stop. During the twenty-minute ride across town, he clenched the overhead strap, willing the streetcar to go faster. How could she leave without saying good-bye? Maybe they weren’t on the best of terms, but she owed him at least that much.
His anxiety ratcheted higher. He wouldn’t know how to reach her if she’d already gone back to Kansas. It was a huge state, and she could be anywhere. He’d be forever stuck with this gnawing sense of regret and dreams of what might have been.
He hopped off the streetcar in her working-class neighborhood, then barreled down the street, anger alternating with fear at each passing block. What if he was too late? How could he track her down in Kansas? He finally reached her apartment, vaulted up the stairs and down the dimly lit hallway, and pounded on the door.
“Annabelle?” he called out. He wiggled the doorknob, but it was locked. “Annabelle? Answer this door.” He struggled to contain his breathing.
He heard footsteps, but the door remained firmly closed. A voice called out from the other side, “Gray, is that you?”
Relief crashed through him. “It’s me. Please open the door.”
She did, gaping at him in bewilderment. Behind her, the apartment was littered with traveling bags, and fear roared back to life. She reallywasleaving!
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “The people at your lab said you quit and are returning to Kansas.”
“Yes, I am,” she said in that same bewildered tone, and from the look of things, her departure was imminent.
“Just like that?” he asked, snapping his fingers. “You can’t.”
She snapped her fingers right back in his face. “Watch me.”
He was being foolish, but it was a struggle to tamp down this roiling combination of panic, hurt, and regret. All he knew was that he couldn’t let her go. Not yet. He stepped inside the apartment and shut the door. They had unfinished business. Mostly personal, but business-business too. It was a lot easier to deal with the business aspect.
“I need your help getting the upper hand on the Magruders,” he said. “It’s important. You can help.”
And just like that, the bright smile lit up her face. She’d always,alwaysbeen able to capture him with that smile.
He leaned down to grasp her forearms. “It’s a long shot. That’s why I need your help.”
“I’d prefer that you don’t touch my daughter,” a stern woman’s voice commanded.
Gray dropped his hands. Two people had just stepped out of the bedroom. Annabelle’s parents? The man looked like a farmer, with a flannel shirt and a craggy face that had seen a lot of sun. The woman looked like she was sucking on a pickle.
Gray stepped away from Annabelle, offering the older man his hand. “Gray Delacroix,” he said. “Annabelle and I have...” How to say it? Fallen madly and gloriously in love before it all imploded? Sailed to Boston, where they conquered the publishing world?
“I know who you are,” her father said. A man of few words, apparently.
Gray turned his attention to the mother and nodded. She nodded back. This was awkward. He glanced at the luggage stacked in the middle of the room.
“Where’s Elaine?”
“Married and gone,” Annabelle said. “There’s no more reason for me to stay in Washington.”
“Yes, there is. I need your help.”
“How much will you pay her?”
“Mother!” Annabelle burst out, but the older woman stepped farther into the room, looking gaunt, hard, and tough.
“We have three tickets back to Kansas on this evening’s train,” the older woman said. “They weren’t cheap, and if they get canceled, it doesn’t come free.”
Now he knew where Annabelle got her thrifty good sense, although the source of her smile remained a mystery. Both parents looked at him with poker faces.
“I shall naturally cover the costs of any additional expense. I’ll pay for Annabelle’s time as well.”
“What do you need?” Curiosity mingled with a nascent sense of adventure lurked in Annabelle’s hesitant smile.
