How to Score (41 page)

“Nothing’s unforgivable, Arlene.”

She lifted her tear-streaked face. “I made that poor woman’s life miserable.”

“Justine made her own life miserable.” Walter stepped closer. “I’m not saying what you did was right, but if it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. Chandler was what he was. Justine chose to stay with him, knowing he was unfaithful.”

“I hurt her.”

“You were hurt, too.”

“Yes. And now I have to face the fact that my entire life was a waste.”

“It wasn’t, Arlene. You had a successful career.”

Her face twisted with bitterness. “And what good did that do anyone?”

He took a step toward her. “It did lots of good—good you can’t even see. You helped make Phelps Oil a success. And because it succeeded, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people were able to earn a livelihood and support their families. That’s important—really important.”

She looked up at him. “Do you think so?”

“Yes, I do. I think you’ve done more good than you’ll ever know.” And maybe he had, too, in spite of himself. He and Helen had created a wonderful daughter, for starters. And his rental properties had provided homes, and his work at the plant had helped provide electricity. Maybe his life had counted for something, too.

“I was such an idiot.” She wrapped her arms around herself and sank down in her chair, rocking back and forth, even though it wasn’t a rocker. “I was a total cliché—a little country girl, all starry-eyed and full of big dreams, dazzled by the dashing older man. I thought life was a Doris Day movie.”

“He took advantage of you.”

“No. I knew right from wrong.” She wiped her nose with a tissue. “I guess I got what I deserved.”

“You deserved much, much more than Chandler Phelps.”

“Oh, no,” Arlene said quickly. “Chandler was way out of my league.”

Anger flashed through him. “In what way? Was he better at putting someone else first? Did he have more of an ability to love? Did he dedicate his life to making someone else happy?”

She tilted her head and looked at him.

“You did all those things for him. So it seems to me that
you
were way out of
his
league.” He hesitated, then decided to plunge ahead. “Just like Helen was out of mine. She treated me like I was the center of the universe, and I just assumed that’s what I was supposed to be.”

Arlene looked at him. “She was happy with you. I’m sure of it. I’m sure she knew she was loved.”

“I didn’t always show it. I wanted everything my way, on my terms. I could be pretty demanding, and sometimes I was short with her.” He blew out a sigh. “She’s probably up in heaven regretting that she didn’t stand up to me more.”

“No. I think you’re the one with all the regrets.”

The cicadas began an evening song. It was funny; before he’d met Arlene, he’d thought that his life was over, that his good years were used up, that he’d blindly blown the gifts of love that God had given him. He thought he had no reason to live. But Arlene felt that way, too—and even though she’d made some awfully poor choices, he could see beyond them, could see the love-hungry soul beneath. He could easily forgive her.

Forgiving himself was another matter.

He looked at her profile. Even from the side, he could see the dark circles of sadness under her eyes. “What I’m coming to realize, Arlene, is that we’ve all done and didn’t do things we regret. The key is to learn from our mistakes and get on the right path.”

She shook her head. “It’s too late.”

He gazed out at the leaves, gold and red and orange, blazing against the setting sun. The clouds were orange and pink and purple—heartbreakingly beautiful, as if God had saved the best part of the day for last.

“Who says?” he found himself asking.

She turned toward him and fixed him with her gray gaze. “What?”

“Well, we can’t change the roads we’ve taken, but we can choose the road ahead.”

Arlene gave him a get-real look. “I’m sixty-eight years old—two years away from seventy. There’s not that much road left ahead.”

“Who are you to say? You might have another thirty years.”

“Old-age years,” she said bitterly. “Winter-of-life years.”

“Nah. You’ve still got a good long stretch of autumn left.”

She gave a slight smile.

He waved his hand at the garden. “Look how beautiful autumn can be. And heck—winter can be fun. It’s a time to snuggle by the fire, drink hot cocoa, and read some good books. It’s a great time for good conversations and meals and companionship. And it’s a terrific time to travel.”

She gazed at him. Behind the tears, he thought he saw a hint of hope.

“There’s still life ahead of us, Arlene.” He swallowed hard. “And I think we should make the most of it.”

She looked at him. “What—what are you saying?”

What the hell
was
he saying? The words bubbled up, and he just let them come out. “That maybe you and I—that we… that, well, maybe we could travel down the road a bit together. And see how it goes.”

Her eyes rounded. Her lips parted.

“Look—I know you’re all rattled and raw, and probably the last thing you want to do right now is think about getting involved. And to tell you the truth, the last thing I thought I wanted was to hook up with another woman. But maybe… when you’re ready… ” He grinned and lifted his shoulders. “Well, here I am. And I think you’re awfully special.” He cleared his throat, suddenly awkward. “I imagine you don’t feel much like going out tonight.” He started to rise from his chair. “I should probably go and leave you alone.”

“No.” She reached out for his hand. Her fingers were soft and pliant. “No. I’ve spent way too much time alone.”

G
ood-bye—that was all Sammi had said. Not “See you later” or “We’ll talk soon.” Just good-bye, cold
and final.

The word drummed relentlessly in Chase’s mind over the next week, drowning out everything else. When the older Lambinos were convicted and turned in their nephew, Chase couldn’t really enjoy the victory. Even tonight, as he sat with his brother and Paul at the Wild Horse Saloon to celebrate Luke’s release from Witness Protection, he didn’t feel any joy. It was as if his capacity for happiness had been rolled in a thick, wet carpet labeled “good-bye.”

Luke raised his mug of beer. He had a deep tan and sun-lightened hair, the result of spending the last six weeks fishing and hiking in the wilds of Montana. “Here’s to having my life back,” Luke said.

Chase raised his glass, as well. “And here’s to no more life coaching.”

Luke took a swig, then set down his mug. “I’ve gotta say, you carried the ball a whole hell of a lot better than I thought you would.”

“Your confidence is inspiring.”

“I mean it. I’ve talked to all the clients you handled in my absence, and you were A-team all the way. I can’t believe Horace has finally moved out on his own.”

Chase was having a hard time believing it himself. “Saving the day with his accordion gave him the shot of courage he needed to face down Mommy Dearest.” Chase took a large swallow of beer.

“That, and Sammi,” Luke said. “Horace said she helped him move in and get settled.”

The mention of her name made Chase’s heart tighten.

“I really like the sound of this girl,” Luke said. “When am I going to get to meet her?”

“I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.” Chase had repeatedly phoned her, but she refused to take his calls.

“Well, go over and see her,” Paul said.

“I did. She wouldn’t open the door.”

“Can’t say that I blame her.” Luke took another sip of brew. “Coaching her and dating her at the same time was a really bad call.”

Chase stared into his beer. “Don’t I know it.”

“Your only chance of patching things up is let her know how you feel,” Luke said.

“Kind of hard to do when she won’t talk to me.”

“So send her an e-mail.”

“She won’t read it,” Paul volunteered. “She told my wife she deletes everything from Chase without opening it.”

“So try snail mail. Or a telegram.”

“Yeah. Right,” Chase said glumly. “Do they even have telegrams anymore?”

“Look, here’s the bottom line: if you care about this woman, you’ll find a way to reach her. And if she cares about you, she’ll find it in her heart to forgive you.”

“Kind of hard to reach her when she refuses to hear from me.”

“So get creative.”

Sammi didn’t want to hear from him—but maybe he could reach her through someone else. Chase set down his beer and gazed thoughtfully at the mug, an idea forming in his mind.

“I think you should forgive him,” Chloe said the following Sunday as she wrapped one of Sammi’s plates in newspaper.

“Why? So he can lie to me again?” Sammi folded down the flap on a moving box, then reached for the packing tape.

“He didn’t really lie to you.” Chloe placed the newspaper-wrapped plate inside the box on the counter. “He just left you to your own misconceptions.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not. Besides, he wouldn’t have gotten involved with you if you hadn’t pursued him.”

“I did
not
pursue him!”

“Oh, please.” Chloe pulled another plate out the cabinet. “We practically stalked him at the swap meet—and then you bopped him on the head, and insisted on playing Florence Nightingale, and ended up in bed with him.”

Sammi indignantly ripped off a piece of tape. “You make it sound like it was all my fault.”

“Well, it kinda was. You started it all.”

Had she? In a way, maybe she had. “Well, it doesn’t matter how it started. He still should have told me.”

“Of course he should have. But when would have been a good time to do that?”

“Right off the bat!”

“Think it through, Sammi. When, exactly, would that have been? When you were gushing about him on the phone? That would have mortified you. When you were in the middle of a date? You would have had the same reaction you’re having now.”

“So?”

“So he didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to screw up a good thing. Seems to me that you, of all people—you, who hired a life coach because you kept messing up dates—ought to understand not wanting to mess up a great relationship.”

Sammi glared at her. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Yours. And his. Because I think you two belong together. If you could just put your anger aside for a moment and think rationally, you’d see that, too.”

“You think I’m being irrational?” She tried to put the tape on the seam of the box flaps, but it stuck to itself and balled up. She ripped it off. “I’ve lost my home and my job.”

“You’ve got a job,” Chloe interrupted. “You’re on a paid leave of absence.”

It was true, but Sammi was on a roll, and she was not going to let the facts slow her down. “I’ve spent the night in a bat cave, I’ve been shot at and physically accosted, I’ve fallen in love with a man who pretended to be someone else while I poured out my heart to him, and now my own sister is against me.”

“I’m not against you. I’m for you. And did you hear what you just said?”

“What?”

“You said you’d fallen in love with Chase.”

Alarm shot through her. “I did not.”

“You did, too. You said you’d fallen. Past tense. No maybes or I-think-I-might-be-about-tos. You can deny it all you want, but you said it and you feel it.”

Hell. There was no denying that she loved Chase. She was up to her eyeballs, over her head, heart and soul in love with Chase.

But he’d deliberately deceived her. How could she love a man she couldn’t trust? She sank into a chair, her shoulders slumped. “My life could not get any worse.”

The doorbell rang. Chloe peered out the window. “Don’t look now, but it could.”

Sammi closed her eyes. Someday she’d learn to quit throwing out that challenge to the universe. “If it’s Chase again, I’m not here.”

“It’s not Chase. It’s your boss and your landlord.”

“Together?”

“Looks like they’re
ver
y together. They’re holding hands.”

Had the universe completely spun off its axis? Drawing a tight breath, Sammi smoothed her blue T-shirt, headed for the entryway, and opened the door.

Sure enough, Mr. Landry and Ms. Arnette stood on the stoop. And sure enough, their hands were linked. Maybe it was just the light, but something about Ms. Arnette’s face looked different. She looked softer. Friendlier. Prettier.

Mr. Landry looked surprisingly dapper in a corduroy jacket with leather-patched elbows. He smiled apologetically. “Sorry to drop by like this, Sammi, but we really need to talk to you.”

About what? Pending lawsuits? Might as well find out. With a sigh of resignation, Sammi gestured to the living room. “Come on in.”

“Oh, my—this is lovely,” Ms. Arnette said, looking around as she stepped through the door. “I can see why you want to preserve this place.”

Okay, now Sammi
knew
the universe had become unhinged. Mr. Landry waited until Ms. Arnette sat on the couch, then sank down beside her. They looked at each other, then Walter cleared his throat.

“I want… ” they said simultaneously. They looked at each other again and grinned.