Her mother wasn’t the sort of person who could absorb a punch. Words could leave scars, and that was one her mother still carried.
“Your brother said my grandfather had dirt beneath his fingernails,” she said in a pained voice. “That he wasn’t fit to be in the food industry.”
“That was my brother, not me.”
She placed a hand over her heart, willing it to stop racing. She couldn’t blame Luke for something his brother had said. After all, it was years ago, and Luke was too young to have been involved in that nasty lawsuit. He was a good man. He risked his life to save Bandit. They held hands and laughed on the ice, even though they’d both been afraid. The Delacroixs had been trying to drive her family out of business for decades, but surely that was other people in his family, not Luke.
She risked a glance at him. “You don’t believe all those terrible things your brother said about us, do you?”
She wanted an immediate denial, but the sadness and regret on his face was all the answer she needed. Hedidbelieve those things. Theywereenemies.
“Marianne, I’m so sorry,” he said. “You seem like a great person, but there’s too much bad blood here. We probably shouldn’t see each other again.”
“You’re probably right,” she admitted. Any sort of liaison between them would be too difficult, but that didn’t stop thewanting. “I only wish we could have had another day or two before we found out.”
“Maybe a week,” Luke agreed.
“A month?”
“How about a year?”
She had to laugh at how easily he bantered with her. He was fun, but seeing him would be like throwing a bomb into her family’s home. It wasn’t worth it. At least now she understood why her father got so annoyed when he saw her picture of Luke with the dog. He’d known who Luke was and suggested she have nothing more to do with him. Blood was thicker than water.Even ice water, she thought inanely.
At the door, Luke turned to her with an impish smile and wagged his finger in her face. “No more crawling on the Capitol dome, young lady.”
“Too dangerous?”
“Too dangerous,” he affirmed.
“It probably was,” she admitted. “Good luck with theDon Quixotetranslation. I’ll look forward to it.”
He winked at her. “It will be the best.”
Then the amusement in his face turned into reluctant admiration as he glanced back at the photographs hanging on the clothesline. “No matter what else happens, I think your pictures are wonderful. And so are you.”
He closed the door behind him, and Marianne felt like she’d just lost a good friend.
Luke was still mulling over his bad luck as he rode the streetcar back to the Alexandria neighborhood where he’d been born and raised.
Marianne Magruder.Magruder. Luke had plenty of friends, thousands of acquaintances, a handful of rivals, but only one real enemy in the world, and his name was Clyde Magruder.
Luke wouldn’t let an inconvenient attraction stand in the way of a lifelong grudge. No matter how much he admired Marianne, he intended to get Clyde kicked out of Congress.
He walked the last few blocks to the three-story colonial town house he shared with Gray and his wife. He was inexplicably tired as he mounted the steps and prepared to unlock the front door, but then paused.
Arguing voices could be heard inside. He cocked his ear closer to listen, for it was clearly Gray’s voice berating Annabelle over something, and that was odd. Gray worshipped the ground Annabelle walked on, and they were still newlyweds. Luke didn’t want to walk into an embarrassing quarrel, but he still couldn’t tell the nature of their disagreement.
It sounded like they were arguing about Annabelle’s job. She’d been working as a lab assistant at the Department of Agriculture for over a year, and she loved the work, but they were clearly squabbling about it. Annabelle said she liked her supervisor and didn’t want to quit.
Then Gray said something too low to hear, and they both started laughing. It was freezing out here, and since it didn’t sound like a horrible lovers’ quarrel, Luke inserted his key in the lock and let himself inside. Gray and Annabelle were in the kitchen down the hall, and he stamped the snow from his feet to let them know he was there.
“Luke!” Annabelle said warmly. “Come into the kitchen. I’ve made lamb stew for lunch. You’re the perfect person to help me talk sense into Gray.”
Luke loved the sound of her voice. Everything about Annabelle was cheerful and optimistic, but as usual, Gray looked brooding and annoyed. The scent of simmering meat was too tempting to resist, and he helped himself to a bowl before joining them at the small kitchen table.
“There’s a new initiative in the chemistry division at the Department of Agriculture,” Annabelle said. “They’re finallygetting serious about proving the detrimental effect of chemical preservatives on human health and are launching a controlled scientific study to document the consequences.”
“Excellent!” Luke said, wolfing another mouthful of stew. “Long past due, if you ask me.”
