Pairing Off (Red Hot Russians #1) (18 page)

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

“She can’t wait to meet you. When all that stuff happened with your old partner, she was rock-solid in your corner. She said you were too pretty and nice to ever cheat.”

“That’s sweet.”

“She’s a sweet kid.” Sarah paused, then looked away. “You know, it’s weird going through a divorce. Humbling. People you thought were your friends avoid you, like they’re afraid your bad luck will rub off.” She twisted the drawstring on her hooded sweatshirt. “It made me think about how we treated you...after.”

Carrie smiled sadly. “Aneurisms aren’t contagious.”

A frown settled across Sarah’s face. “Well, according to Mom and her friends, that wasn’t what killed her.”

Carrie tensed. “Oh?”

“They said it was a cocaine overdose...or that she’d killed herself, either because her singing career was over, or because your dad was in love with Lolly McAllister. Just a bunch of mean, ugly gossip.”

The knot between her shoulders relaxed, slightly. It was nothing but a rehash of decade-old whispers that had never left the country club gates. Sweetspire’s movers and shakers might speculate, but wouldn’t turn on one of their own.

“Well, you can’t believe everything you hear. There was always plenty of mean, ugly gossip about her when she was alive too.”

“I know,” Sarah said, quietly. “And Mom spread more than her share of it. So even though it might be too late, if it still means anything, I want you to know I’m sorry.”

* * *

That evening, she and Lolly made small talk over the paella supper the housekeeper prepared, then Lolly went to her office to catch up on work. Alone in the den, Carrie read a chapter of the bestseller her stepmother had raved about, then set it aside. Sleet pattered against the windows, but a cheerful blaze in the fireplace and the ever-present Christmas music—Mel Torme’s “The Christmas Song,” at the moment—made everything seem warm, cozy.

Too bad it wasn’t.

Sarah’s apology, though welcome, was a reminder that the most painful chapter of her life lingered, like the ghosts haunting this house. Her angry words, Momma’s sad eyes.

All I wanted was to make you happy, baby girl.

You want to make me happy? Then leave me alone!

A few cruel words to a woman already devastated by a crumbling marriage and a lost career. Then the daughter, on whom she’d pinned her hope, seemed to reject her too. If only she hadn’t said what she did. If only she’d called to apologize. If only she’d come home earlier. But she hadn’t. And she would pay for those mistakes the rest of her life.

Beside the couch, her phone buzzed an incoming text. Sarah, confirming tomorrow’s ice time. She replied, and then sat, fingers poised over the keys.

Almost three days had passed since she’d spoken to Anton, the longest it had been in months. Several times today, she’d thought about calling, but something had always gotten in the way. Now was the perfect opportunity.

So what was stopping her?

He needs time to sort things out, without me bothering him. I’ll only look desperate and insecure. Besides, he hasn’t contacted me either.

Was it really that, or was it being back here, surrounded by sad memories, broken lives and troubled marriages? Was she foolish enough to believe that with her ugly history, she and Anton could be more successful than Sarah and her ex? Her own parents? Now there was a textbook example of why people from vastly different backgrounds, with no family support, had about zero likelihood of a happy marriage. Throw in the fact that she’d caused her own mother’s suicide, and the relationship was doomed.

Over there, she’d been caught up in a snow globe fairy-tale version of life, where the princess skated in the snowy moonlight with her prince. But moonlight made it easy to ignore bitter truths. Dreams didn’t come true, and Cinderella never found her happy ending.

Chapter Nineteen

Fighting dizziness as she came out of the Biellmann, Carrie struck a dramatic ending pose, prompting applause and cheers from her one-girl audience.

“Do it again! Please!” Maddie was a cute kid, with a big, hard-to-resist gap-toothed smile, but there was an ache deep in Carrie’s body that shouldn’t be there. The flu? Stress? Entirely possible, given that Dad was due back from Washington today. Whatever it was, she was wearing out. Even Ivan the Terrible wasn’t this demanding.

“I need a break, kiddo,” she said. “Why don’t you show me that killer spiral instead?”

Madeline tilted her small frame into an arabesque and glided across the ice with the poise of a future champion. Her spiral was straighter and more confident than it had been when they started working on it an hour ago.

“She looks so grown-up,” Sarah said, wistful yet proud. “No matter what Santa puts under the tree, I’d say this has been the highlight of her Christmas. I can’t thank you enough for spending so much time with her. You’re very patient. Have you considered coaching after you’re through competing?”

Carrie shook her head. “Coaching is Anton’s plan. I’ll probably sign on with an ice show for a year or two, then try to break into broadcasting or something.”

Sarah didn’t comment on her vague-sounding future. Instead, she cast a sideways

glance. “Oh yes. Easy-on-the-eyes Anton. I wondered when you’d get around to talking about your guy.”

“He’s not my guy, he’s my skating partner.”

Sarah pouted. “So he plays for the other team? Damn, why do all the gorgeous ones have to be—”

“Anton’s not gay. And he’s been a great partner and a wonderful friend.”

“So there’s someone else?”

“Not anymore. We’re just...” She shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

Sarah drew her lips in and nodded. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Carrie opened her mouth, ready to deny, deny, deny. But she couldn’t. Her friend saw the truth, heartbreaking as it was.Sarah rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got time to listen.”

She hesitated, then nodded. Sarah called to the other skater on the ice, a high school girl, to watch Maddie, then Carrie followed her to the concession stand. Sarah poured coffee and Earl Grey tea. “Now, tell me about Anton.”

A man’s voice interrupted them before Carrie could answer. “Anybody here?”

Sarah sighed and rolled her eyes. “Great. Hughie Botts. Just who I wanted to see this morning,” she said, under her breath. “I don’t suppose you remember him?”

“Vaguely.” She recalled a gym class bully who’d harassed a timid kid with a speech impediment. “What’s he doing here?”

“Still trying to talk me into going out with him New Year’s Eve would be my guess. After Trent, I’ve had my fill of party boys, but this one doesn’t understand ‘no.’”

A big guy with a close-shaved head, wearing the striped uniform shirt of a local soft drink distributor, approached the counter. “Hey there, Sarah.” His large face split into a leering grin. “And lookie who else is here, Little Miss Talk of the Town.”

“Hi, Hugh. Long time, no see.”

“I’ll say. Imagine running into you today. Our juicy little Georgia peach gone rogue.” He looked her up and down, then winked.

Sarah glared. “What brings you by, Hugh? Thursday’s not delivery day.”

“No, but the schedules are all mixed up because of Christmas and New Year’s. Suzy placed an extra order. Didn’t she say anything?”

Sarah’s tense posture relaxed, and her mouth formed a small smile. . “That’s right. She did. Hang on a sec while I unlock the loading dock.” She slid off her stool, went around to the inside of the concession stand and opened a drawer beside the cash register.

“No hurry. Hey, you had second thoughts about New Year’s? It’s gonna be a huge-ass party. Completely outta control. Ditch the kid with your folks and drive down with me. It’ll be fun.”

Sarah rummaged through the drawer. “Already told you, I’m not interested.” She found the keys and slammed the drawer shut. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

After she was gone, Hugh turned, a mean glint in his eye. “Well, ain’t this a funny coincidence. Larry Ray was talking about you on his show just this morning.”

He was? She fought the urge to run after Sarah. “Really? I had no idea.”

“Oh yeah,” Hugh chuckled fondly and grinned, as if he was talking about his favorite crazy uncle. “Well, you know Larry Ray, he don’ pull any punches, just tells it like it is.”

“Actually, I don’t know Larry Ray at all. What did he say?”

“Just that you sold out your own country, so’s you could win a gold medal.” He was no longer smiling.

She set down her cup, fearing he might notice her trembling hands. “Well that’s very interesting, but I’m afraid he’s mistaken. I didn’t sell out anything.”

“Huh.” Hugh scratched his large neck. “I s’pose it’s all how you look at things. But that’s what Larry Ray’s sayin’.” He glanced across the lobby toward Suzy’s office. “Come with me, I’ll show you.”

Her heart pounded as she followed him into Suzy’s office. Without hesitation, Hugh took a seat at Suzy’s cluttered desk, and opened her computer’s browser. He quickly navigated to a website that showed a photo of her and Anton in their white-and-red team jackets, smiling with their arms around each other. The caption below read Parker’s Princess Goes Red. He clicked a link, and an insolent, drawling voice crackled from the computer’s small speakers.

“Les Parker says he’s going to control spending in Washington? Hell, he can’t even control his own daughter.” Parnell tittered with glee and rattled some papers. “A listener down in Macon just sent in an article about Les’s little princess, who won a ice-skating contest over the weekend—get this—in Russia!”

Sarah called out from the lobby. “Back door’s open, you can go ahead and unload.” She stopped short in the doorway to the office. “What are you doing with Suzy’s computer?”

Hugh held up his hand. “Shh. Larry Ray was talkin’ about Carrie on his show today.”

The drawling voice continued. “Seems little Commie Ann—excuse me,
Carrie
Ann—after she got caught cheatin’ and disqualified here, up and moved to Moz-cow, became a Russian citizen and is now going to compete for them in the Winter Games.” He sighed. “Folks, I am just disgusted. Les Parker calls himself a patriot. But what kind of patriot lets his daughter renounce her country and move to Russia so she can prance around on ice skates with some communist fairy-boy? That don’t sound like a patriot to me.” Larry Ray chuckled, then delivered his signature line, “But what the
hell
do I know? I’m just a good ol’ boy.”

Hugh turned around and smirked. “Still say he’s mistaken? Look, I get that you’re desperate to stay famous after things went south with the first fruitcake, but what kind of person renounces their own country?” He crossed his arms, the picture of self-righteous indignation. “I don’t know how you live with yourself.”

Carrie struggled to keep her voice steady. “I didn’t renounce anything. I’m still an American and proud to be one. Not that it’s any of your business, but after Cody cheated and dragged me down too, a dear friend invited me to train with him in Moscow. Anton and I worked very hard and we’re proud of what we accomplished.”

Hugh sneered. “Proud to sell yourself to whoever’ll have you.”

Sarah strode into the room and stood opposite the desk, arms akimbo. “Just who do you think you are waltzing here and insulting one of our customers? Carrie’s a champion skater and her father has served the people of this state for twenty years. What has Larry Ray Parnell done? What have you done? Get out, before I call your boss and give him an earful. And don’t think of ever asking me for another date. I’d rather have a root canal.”

“Christ, Sarah. You need to get laid.” Hugh laughed and snorted. “All right, all right, I’m goin’.”

His work boots thumped on the lobby’s padded floor, then the front door squeaked open, and he was gone. Numb, Carrie could only clutch the back of Suzy’s chair and stare down at the picture.

They’d been so happy that day, but that proud moment had been twisted into something ugly. Hurtful. The reality of what she’d done brought a sob to her throat and she pressed her trembling hands to her face.

“Mommy?” From the office door came Maddie’s voice, soft and afraid. “Who was that man? Why did he make Carrie cry?”

“Oh honey, it’s all right.” Whether the comforting words were for Maddie or for her didn’t matter. Sarah came to her side and gathered her close, holding her like a child.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wanted to help Anton. I wanted another chance. I swear, I never meant to hurt anyone.”

She cried not only for her own lost dreams but also for her shattered family. For Momma, who died alone and unloved, and Dad, whose future depended on secrets. But secrets had a way of coming to light. Sarah was right, there had always been gossip, but in Sweetspire, the Parkers could contain it. Now Carrie’s actions, born out of love for a man she with whom she had no future, had thrust them all onto the world stage.

She dreaded the consequences.

She cried in Sarah’s arms, and little Maddie nestled against her side. When her tears subsided, she stroked the little girl’s soft hair, and Sarah kept one arm around her shoulders. Silently, they gazed at the picture on the website.

“I don’t see anything mean or spiteful in either of you. Just love,” said Sarah. “Some folks may question what you did, but anyone who sees the way you look at each other will understand.” She clicked the browser window closed, restoring a little of their dignity.

After leaving the rink, Carrie drove aimlessly through the drab, rainy day. She turned on the radio. Her favorite rock station was gone and her choices seemed to be country, dance music and Christmas music. Oh yeah, and Larry Ray Parnell, whose giant bald head smirked down from a billboard on Peachtree Highway. She turned the music off, but didn’t like the silence, and returned to the Christmas dirges.

Which kind was worse? The be-merry-if-it-kills-you stuff or the poignant songs, like the one where the guy sees his lost love in the grocery story on Christmas Eve? Would that be her years from now, adrift in life and estranged from her family, with Anton married to another?

* * *

By late afternoon, the feeble sun was fading and she couldn’t put off going home any longer. Dad should be there by now. If they were going to have it out, best to get it over with before the pillars of Sweetspire arrived for Lolly’s dinner party.

Sure enough, she arrived home to find Lolly in the living room with Margie Lewis and a thin, elderly gentleman in a light gray suit. He rose and extended a fine-boned hand. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. I’m Clement Buford, editor and social columnist for
Around Town
magazine.”

Lolly smiled tightly. “Clement dropped by unexpectedly to discuss featuring our home in an upcoming issue. He was just on his way out.” She moved not-so-subtly toward the front door.

Margie gathered her purse. “I must be going too. A pleasure to see you, dear, and it’s a shame you won’t be joining us for dinner this evening.” The venomous look on her nipped-and-tucked face revealed everything. She’d come to tell Lolly and Dad about Larry Ray Parnell when the reporter happened by.

Clement remained where he was, eyeing her with blatant curiosity. “Since you’re back in town, I’d love to interview you for my column. It’s been a long recovery after your tragic downfall and subsequent...hospitalization.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure everyone would love to know how you are.”

She smiled with beauty queen blandness. “Why that’s so sweet. Thank you for your kind concern.”

Lolly smoothed her sleek hair. “We’re sorry, Clement, but Carrie’s only in town a couple of days and will hardly have a minute to spare.”

He pulled a business card from his pocket. “Why don’t you sleep on it and I’ll call tomorrow to arrange a time to meet before you fly back to...Moscow, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Moscow. Moscow, Idaho,” Margie said tightly. “A lovely town in the mountains. Wonderful skiing. Carrie has a nice little job in a gift shop. We’re so proud of her.”

“You know, Clement, those photos of Matilda’s veranda parties are right in my desk. I’ll get them for you on your way out.” Lolly took Clement’s arm and led him away.

Alone with Margie, Carrie faked a smile. “It was nice to see you too. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to say hello to Dad.”

“You do that.” Margie wore the same sneer she used to give Momma. “And while this is a family matter and nothing I would
dream
of intruding upon, it just galls me to see such fine people as Les and Lolly embarrassed. But then, blood will tell.”

She wanted nothing more than to escape upstairs, but willed herself to the den. Dad was there, watching a college football game. Quietly, she sat at the opposite end of the couch. On a bright summery afternoon, the Georgia Bulldogs led Auburn 21–3. The season opener, the announcer said. She swallowed hard as her father continued to stare silently at the four-month-old football game. His hair looked grayer and the lines around his eyes were deeper. “Dad, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He didn’t take his eyes from the screen.

“I never meant to hurt you,” she said. “Skating with Anton was a chance to get back what I’d lost and help someone else in the process, but I misjudged how it would reflect on you. I should have told you everything up front. I made a mistake. Please forgive me.”

Forgive
. The word hung in the air.

His throat muscles moved, but his face remained expressionless, his mouth grim. “Congratulations on embarrassing me in the most public way possible. Was it your plan to show what a poor father I was? Find your way onto the talk shows, or sell your memoirs? Isn’t that how people milk a scandal these days?”

She shook her head. “Absolutely not. I swear, this wasn’t about you.”

“Then are you that much of an opportunist, you’d sell out your country and your family to anyone who would have you?”

“You think I did this for my personal glory? My God, people are calling me a traitor! If fame was all I wanted, I would have stayed with Cody.”