A Woman Like Annie. Inglath Cooper

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ a bummer, that’s for sure. Maybe this London stint will be good for you. British babes and—”

      “Fogelman breathing down my neck?”

      “That’s the needle across the record. ’Fraid he comes with the deal. It was a lucrative one so suck it up.”

      “I knew there was a reason I asked you to be a partner in this firm.”

      “Pep talks-r-us.”

      “Everybody’s gotta be good for something,” Jack said, reaching for the notepad he kept in the center console and scribbling a reminder to e-mail Fogelman his best guess on when he would be arriving.

      “So you’ve got the big meeting with the mayor tonight?”

      “During which I’ll try to convince her that even after forty-seven phone calls, I haven’t changed my mind. And I’m not going to.”

      “Have to give her an A for persistence.”

      “Or aggravation.”

      Pete chuckled. “Wonder if she’s hot.”

      “Do you ever get your mind wrapped around any other subject?”

      “I try to discourage it. You’d do well to borrow the philosophy.”

      “Out of the market.”

      “When are you going to quit beating yourself up about that, Jack? Lots of people change their mind about getting married. Better before than after.”

      “At the altar though?”

      “Okay, so right before.”

      “Which makes me a very bad cliché.”

      “No. Just a man who hasn’t found the right woman.”

      Jack aimed the subject in another direction. “I left a file on my desk with some info I need for the lawyers on the auction. How about scanning it and e-mailing it to me?”

      “Not a problem. They have phone jacks down there?”

      “Watch it.”

      “Do it before I leave.”

      “Check in with you tomorrow.” Jack hit the end button on his phone, dropped it on the passenger seat.

      Another car pulled up beside him. A man and woman got out, fortyish, headed for the restaurant holding hands. She dropped her head back and laughed at something the man said, her hair brushing her shoulders. A single glimpse of the two made it clear they were a couple of long standing, their ease with one another nearly tangible. A pang of envy hit Jack in the chest, surprising him with its lingering sting. Ironic considering that a year and a half ago, he’d broken off his engagement to a perfectly nice woman because in the end, he hadn’t been able to go against his own belief that it wouldn’t last.

      Jack got out of the car, closed the door with a solid ka-chunk. He crossed the parking lot, fighting with the knot of his tie. What was he doing here, anyway? In addition to the pile of work stacked up on his desk back in D.C., he had about a thousand loose ends to tie up in Macon’s Point before he could leave for London. He’d driven straight down, still in his work clothes. What he wanted was a good hot shower, a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. At least the meeting wouldn’t last long. He’d say his piece and be on his way.

      Walker’s hadn’t changed much. Looked the same, in fact, except for the fresh coat of paint dolling up the exterior.

      Jack pushed open the front door and stepped inside the well-lit foyer where a waitress greeted him with a bright smile that seemed a watt or two above just-friendly. “Welcome to Walker’s.”

      “Thanks. Any chance of getting a table in the back?”

      “Shouldn’t be a problem,” she said, holding up a pink-tipped finger. “Let me just go see.”

      The place was jam-packed with the dinner crowd. Several heads turned to send him a curious glance. Sudden awkwardness grabbed him by the throat. His name wasn’t going to be a popular one around Macon’s Point. No doubt about it.

      He turned his back to the dining room and shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his gray wool pants, his gaze resting on the vehicles in the lot outside. His stomach did a hungry rumble, the smells wafting out from the kitchen tempting and familiar. Homemade yeast rolls. Coffee brewing behind the counter. His mother had brought him here when he was a boy more times than he could count, to pick up his father’s favorite peach pie on the way home from a visit in town or a dozen chocolate chip cookies for the jar on the kitchen counter. And the three of them had come here for lunch on Sundays when Jack had been in from school. The recollection was poignant, painful.

      “Got that table for you.”

      The waitress was back, beckoning for him to follow her. Her walk had a seismic wave to it, her hips sending the ruffle at the hem of her skirt left to right like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. “I’m Charlotte,” she threw over her shoulder. “You sure do look familiar.”

      “One of those faces.” He somehow knew that if she put a name with it, everyone else in the place would soon do the same.

      Stopping at the table, Charlotte cocked a hip. “Now there I’d have to disagree. We don’t see too many faces like yours around here. You new in town?”

      “Not really. Just back for a quick visit.”

      “Hope you decide to make it a longer one,” she said, adding a not-so-subtle wink to the assertion. “What can I get you to drink?”

      “Sweet tea.”

      “Southern roots.” She gave him a nod of approval. “Back in a gnat’s blink, honey.”

      Again, Jack felt the glances being sent his way from the crowded dining room, most less than friendly. He heard his name mentioned once or twice.

      “Have you had time to decide?” Charlotte, true to her word, came right back, placed his tea in front of him, righting the lemon wedge teetering on the rim.

      “I’m waiting for someone,” he said.

      “That figures,” she said, not bothering to hide her disappointment. “The good ones are always waiting. Just let me know when you’re ready.” She sauntered off then with a regretful smile.

      Jack reached for a couple packs of sugar and emptied them into the glass. This was a mistake. Why hadn’t he just called Annie McCabe and cancelled this meeting? Even if he hadn’t had his own reasons for wanting to close this chapter of his life once and for all, Corbin Manufacturing was beyond saving. The company hadn’t made a penny since his father died. In fact, it had been losing increasingly large sums of money for the past six years.

      Ironic, really, that Jack had built a career around fixing broken businesses. Going into hopeless situations, finding the terminal wound from which a company’s lifeblood was seeping, and figuring out how to suture it up again.

      But in this situation, there was no point in trying to determine a cause when СКАЧАТЬ