All Our Tomorrows. Irene Hannon

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ reason he’d never tried to contact her. Not the only one, but the main one.

      As for the other reason…he wasn’t going to go there. Until yesterday, it had been irrelevant, since he’d never expected to see her again. Yet the chance meeting with her mother, and the medallion resting in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, its weight pressing against his heart, had prodded him to do what he should have done months before. If she brushed him aside, so be it. He still had to make the effort to reach out to her and apologize. And then he would move on—and do his best to forget about her.

      From the outside, the County Chronicle looked like any other storefront on the busy Kirkwood street, which still retained a small-town flavor even though it was a close-in suburb of St. Louis. On his way to the front door, he passed Dubrov’s Bakery, Andrea’s card shop and Fitzgerald’s Café, all of which seemed to be family operations instead of the chain stores that were multiplying like rabbits around the country. He liked that. Liked the notion that even in this modern age of mega-stores and conglomerates—many of which he’d helped to create in his previous job—the entrepreneurial spirit continued to flourish. That people with enough drive and determination could still create a successful business to pass down to the next generation.

      As he stepped into the lobby of the Chronicle, David tried to calm his erratic pulse. The first moments would be awkward, at best. Please, Lord, help me find the words to make the apology I came here to offer, he prayed.

      “May I help you, sir?” A dark-haired woman, who looked to be in her early thirties, spoke to him from behind a desk. Her nameplate identified her as Mary Ramirez, receptionist.

      “Yes. Is Caroline James in?”

      “Do you have an appointment?”

      “No. I just took a chance she might be available. I only need a few minutes.”

      “May I tell her what this is about?” The woman reached for the phone.

      “I’m an old…acquaintance. She’ll know the name. David Sloan.”

      The woman didn’t look convinced, but she punched in some numbers, anyway. “She’s got a very full schedule. I’m not sure she’ll be able to see you.”

      Caroline’s mother had told him that she was the managing editor of the paper, so he was sure she was busy. And perhaps not inclined to mix professional and personal business. But since she didn’t have a listed phone number—he’d checked that first—he hoped she’d give him a few minutes at the office.

      “Caroline, it’s Mary. There’s a David Sloan here who would like to see you.” After several seconds of silence, the receptionist spoke again. “Caroline? Are you still there?”

      Shock. That had to account for Caroline’s delayed response, David reasoned. Which did not bode well for the reception he was going to get—if he got one at all.

      “All right.” The woman was speaking again. “Yes, I’ll let him know.” She hung up and gave David a speculative look. “She’ll be out in a sec. Have a seat while you wait.” She gestured to a small grouping of furniture with a coffee table in the middle.

      Relieved, David nodded and moved to one of the modernistic upholstered chairs. He didn’t feel like sitting, but pacing wasn’t an option, either. The receptionist was already casting discreet, but interested, glances his way. He didn’t want to arouse any more curiosity than necessary. With studied casualness, he sat in one of the chairs, reached for a copy of the newspaper from among those fanned on the coffee table, leaned back and pretended to read the blur of words on the page in front of him. He was more nervous about this encounter than any of the high-powered, deal-making sessions he’d once participated in, when hundreds of millions of dollars had sometimes hung in the balance. Maybe because the capital here was emotional, not monetary. And for another reason he didn’t want to consider.

      As the minutes ticked by, David grew more apprehensive. What if Caroline had changed her mind? What if she refused to see him? He’d get the medallion to her somehow, he vowed, find another way to apologize. Perhaps he’d resort to a letter. That would be easier than dealing with her face-to-face. But not as personal. Or as noble. Still, if she didn’t come out, he’d have to conclude that she didn’t want to see him, and he’d be left with no other option. It wasn’t ideal, but he…

      Suddenly, the door to the inner offices opened and Caroline stepped through. He set aside the newspaper and rose slowly, using the opportunity to do a quick assessment of the woman who stood before him.

      She was still gorgeous, no question about it. Michael had always appreciated beautiful women. Just as it had the first time they’d met, David’s heart tripped into double time. Caroline was model-tall, just three or four inches shorter than his own six-foot frame. And slender. Maybe too slender now, he corrected himself. A jade-green silk blouse was tucked into her pencil-slim black wool skirt, and a delicate gold necklace dipped into the hollow of her throat. She radiated the same style, class and poise he recalled from their first meeting, when Michael had brought her home for Christmas to introduce his fiancée to him and their mother. Now, as then, he was struck by her sleek, shimmery hair, which was the color of an autumn hillside—rich brown, laced with glints of gold, bronze and copper. She’d changed the style, though. He recalled her hair being shorter. Her new look was longer, just brushing her shoulders.

      He noticed other new things, as well. Faint, parallel furrows in her brow. Fine lines at the corners of her eyes, and a deep, lingering sadness in their hazel depths. She’d also aged in some subtle way he couldn’t quite identify. He knew she was a year younger than him. Michael had mentioned it once. And it wasn’t that she looked older than her thirty-five years, exactly. It was just that there was a weariness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. A timeless, ancient expression not related to age, but to experience. The kind of look shared by people who’d seen too much, been through too much. But at least the animosity he’d glimpsed at the funeral was gone. In its place was wariness.

      As David stood there, Caroline looked him over as well, though she had a less vivid picture in her mind for comparison. The Christmas they’d come home to announce their engagement to both families, she’d been focused on Michael. And at the funeral, her grief had been so overwhelming that she’d been aware of David only on a peripheral level. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him as she’d tried to deal with the avalanche of shock, guilt and resentment that had buried her in a suffocating blackness.

      But she had always recognized the distinct differences in the two brothers. David was a couple of inches shorter than Michael, and his hair was dark brown while Michael’s had been sandy and sun-streaked. Their eyes also provided a contrast. Michael’s had been a sparkling, vivid blue, while David’s were quiet and deep brown. Just as their physical appearance differed, so, too, did their personalities. Michael had been an adventurous extrovert. David was a cautious introvert. Or at least that’s how Michael had characterized him. He’d always referred to David, five years his junior, as his kid brother, and called him “the suit” in a good-natured way. He’d told Caroline that David was destined for the corporate world and power lunches, that one day he would be rich and famous while Michael continued to tilt at windmills. And that was just fine with Caroline. It was one of the things she’d loved about Michael. His absolute passion for truth and his zeal for his job were the first things she’d noticed about him. The world needed more people like him. Instead, it had one less. Thanks to her—and, to some degree, the man now looking at her from across the room.

      Caroline had almost refused to see David. But what good would that have done? Any blame he bore for Michael’s death was far less than her own, after all. And Michael wouldn’t have wanted her to be unkind to David. Though the СКАЧАТЬ