Saved by the Bride (32 page)

Sean nodded. “You’re a hell of a good businessman and although
I’ve taught you a lot, most of the way you operate is instinctive. You don’t
depend on anyone and you’re your own man. In business, that’s one hell of a good
trait to have.” He sighed. “The thing is, relationships aren’t like business.
They can be messy but without them life is pretty lonely. I know I didn’t lead
by example relationship-wise, but I want you to know that despite everything,
your mother and I did have some good times in our marriage. But we were young,
too young. We handled the breakup badly and we both regret that. A relationship
needs maturity to make it work.”

Finn really didn’t want to hear all of this and he tried
keeping it light. “Lucky you’ve got Dana, then.”

Sean smiled. “Dana makes me happy. It’s taken me a long time to
find that sort of happiness and I saw glimpses of it in you when Annika was
here.”

Unease shifted in Finn and settled hard and heavy in his chest.
“Now you’re just sounding old and sentimental. Unlike you I have no desire to
get married. Annika and I had some fun and it’s run its course. End of
story.”

His father gave him a direct look. “She loves you and that sort
of commitment scares the shit out of you.”

“That’s crap.”

“You wish it was.”

* * *

The summer at Kylemore ended with a party. Bridey and
Hank arrived back from their honeymoon in time for Labor Day weekend and Logan
finally got to take the inaugural zip line ride. As the little boy had whooped
it across the lake and then deliberately dropped into the water on the return
ride, Sean had put his hand on Finn’s shoulder and said, “We did good.”

He didn’t shrug the hand away. “Yeah. I think we did.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” He’d finally admitted to himself that he’d
actually enjoyed building the line. When they’d finished the project, he’d
picked up the phone to call Annika, but mid-dial he’d pressed Cancel. What was
he going to say after, “Dad and I built the zip line and survived” and “How are
you?” She wanted more from him than he could give her.

“I had a good time, Dad, especially when you weren’t
philosophizing.”

“Good.” Sean grinned. “We’ll have to try fishing next.”

Finn smiled. “You and me in a boat? Don’t push it, Dad.”

Sean winked. “It will have to be golf then.” He walked off
laughing and started organizing everyone to take a zip line ride.

The afternoon passed with a great deal of fun and laughter.
Everybody took a turn on the zip line, including Kathleen who’d screamed almost
as loud as Bridey. Nicole and Max had been a welcome addition to the day but the
biggest surprise was the arrival of a well-known curator from the Museum of
Contemporary Art in Chicago, who’d come to drive Kathleen home.

Bridey had shaken her head in bewilderment as she’d slipped her
arm through Finn’s. “Can you believe this summer? It’s made me so happy. What
about you?”

“It’s been great getting to know Logan.”

She gave him a sideways look. “And Dad?”

He sighed, knowing she wouldn’t stop asking until he replied.
“And Dad. Yes, little sister, I concede, the zip line was a good idea.”

She smiled. “I’m full of good ideas and I’ve got another
one.”

He laughed. “Of course you have.”

“You should call Annika.”

He tensed. “This family might have managed to heal some wounds
this summer but we’re nowhere near ready to tell each other what to do.”

She squeezed his arm. “Annika made you happy. Don’t walk away
from that.”

“Take your newlywed starry eyes over to your husband and lavish
your care on him and leave me in peace.”

Except peace was something that was eluding him big-time and he
couldn’t wait for the busyness of the fall work quarter.

* * *

Esther was left to close up the house and everyone
headed back to Chicago. Sean moved back into his office and Finn flew down to
Mexico for a face-to-face with his team who’d done a sensational job without
him. He’d spent two weeks there before flying to Australia and on to China and
Thailand, taking meetings and networking for a planned expansion into Asia. The
work was all-consuming and the tender process had taken up the month of October,
leaving him no time or space to think beyond AKP Asia. There was no doubt in his
mind that he thrived on projects like this. He loved the thrill of the chase and
nailing down the challenges of the process but despite all of that, it hadn’t
given him the total satisfaction that he’d expected. So he’d added dating into
the mix but after three disastrous evenings where he’d spent more time thinking
about Annika than the woman in front of him, he’d given up on that idea
completely.

He wondered what she was doing. He’d been wondering that a lot.
Usually at 2:00 a.m.

A knock sounded at his door and he looked up to see his
secretary walking his way. “Mr. Callahan, your schedule has you blocked out next
week for vacation. Are you still taking it?”

His week at the lake. The week he always took when no one was
at Kylemore. No Logan to toss the ball with, no Bridey and Hank to hike with, no
mint juleps on the deck with his mother, no Dana to chat with in the garden and
no Sean to do a project with.

No
Annika
.

The idea of an empty Kylemore was suddenly unappealing. “I’m
not certain I’ll go to the lake.”

“The Caribbean’s lovely at this time of year,” Lisa offered
up.

Except he’d been flying around the world a lot recently and the
idea of getting back on a plane held little appeal. “I’ll think on it and let
you know but meanwhile don’t book in any meetings.”

She nodded and left the room, and Finn stood up feeling
restless. That had been happening a lot lately. He poured himself a coffee from
the pot Lisa replenished regularly so the brew was always fresh. He glanced at
the clock. Two o’clock. An image of Annika in her shapeless and paint-stained
T-shirt rocked into his head. Why had he thought of that?

At
two
o’clock
she
used
to
be
in
her
studio
.

He slammed down his coffee mug, sloshing brown liquid over the
side, and picked up his phone. He was sick of unbidden thoughts and images of
her coming into his head at all hours of the day and night, screwing with his
concentration. To hell with it—he’d just call her. He’d talk to her, find out
what she was doing and get her out of his system. Then he could return to his
pre-Annika life which had been perfectly fine and ordered. He would get back
that level of contentment that was eluding him.

He pressed her number on his contacts and held the phone to his
ear. “The number you have dialed has been disconnected and is no longer in
service. If you think you have dialed this number in error, please check the
number and try again.”

He stared at his phone as if it was an alien. He hadn’t made a
mistake on the numbers. He tried again and got the same message.
Shit
. She’d disconnected from the AKP phone. He ran
his hand over the back of his neck. Of course she had. It was October. The
contract with Annika’s Custom Calligraphy had been until Labor Day. But once
he’d made a decision to do something, he damn well did it. It wouldn’t be hard
to find her number and given how much grief his sister had aimed at him about
her, he’d start there. He got Bridey’s voice mail so he tried his mother.

“Do you have Annika’s number?”

“Hello, darling, how are you?”

He ground his teeth pretty much like he’d done at fifteen but
knew he’d get nowhere without going through the pleasantries. “Hello, Mom. I’m
well, how are you? How’s Geoffrey?” He was still getting his head around
that
relationship.

“We’re both very well, darling. Thank you for asking.”

“Do you have Annika’s number?”

There was an unexpected silence on the end of the phone
followed by a sigh.

“Mom?”

“I’m sorry, Finn, I don’t have it.”

“But Dad said you’d been in contact with her.”

“I had, but before her phone number changed she wrote and asked
me very politely to stop. Just like she asked Bridey.” She paused. “Why do you
want to contact her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Excuse me?”

God, what was he doing? He was thirty-three years old, second
in charge of a global empire and he was talking to his mother about a girl.
“Unfinished business.”

“If it’s AKP business then personnel may have contact
details.”

“Good idea. Thanks.”

“Finn, if it’s unfinished business between the two of you then
that’s a different thing entirely. I’d advise you not to call her.”

He stopped pacing. “What are you saying? That I can only
contact her about work?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Look, I just want to know if she’s okay.”

“You broke her heart and now you want to check she’s okay?
She’s not going to thank you for that.”

He plowed his hand through his hair. “Mom, I just think that if
I talked to her, knew she was doing okay then I could get back on track—”

“No.” He heard the hiss of his mother sucking her breath in
through her teeth. “This isn’t about you, Finn, unless...”

The pause sounded ominous. “Unless what?”

“Do you love her?”

No
. Panic simmered. “Look, Mom, I
know you think you’re trying to help but this is nothing about being in love and
everything to do with moving forward.”

“Finn, did Annika tell you she loved you?”

His breath shuddered out of him and he hesitated. “Yes,
but—”

“And you told her you didn’t love her, so by rights she is the
one needing to do all the moving forward, not you. By the sheer fact you weren’t
invested in the relationship you have nothing to move forward from.”

Indignation poured through him. “I was damn well invested. We
had an agreement for the summer, a contract and she was the one who broke if off
early.”

“She isn’t a business plan, Finnegan.”

People
count
,
not
just
the
bottom
line
. His words came back to him as did Annika’s
raised brows.
Finn
,
that
isn’t
a
relationship
!
It’s
a
business
arrangement
.

Sweat broke out on his brow and he heard himself shouting. “Of
course Annika isn’t a business plan. A BP is clear and concise with goals and an
endpoint. Annika’s messy and demanding, in my face about Dad and anything else
she thinks I should be doing. And she can’t even walk a straight line without
falling over.”

“And yet you want to call her up?”

He heard a smile in his mother’s voice and he let out a ragged
breath. “Yes.” It was all so damn confusing.

“Finn, relationships aren’t like work, they’re messy and
unpredictable.”

“Exactly. Which is why I don’t do them.”

“Except this time you’ve done one without even realizing.”

He loosened his tie which was suddenly choking him. What was it
with his family trying to push him toward her?
Dude
,
you
called
your
mother
. “That’s nonsense.”

Kathleen continued, “Do thoughts of Annika’s arrive unannounced
when you’re in meetings?”

He didn’t want to answer that but fortunately he didn’t have to
because Kathleen kept talking. “How’s your appetite?”

Lousy
. “I never eat much when I’m
busy.”

“Okay, well tell me this. At the end of each day do you fall
into bed with a sense of achievement and fulfillment or do you have a general
feeling that something intangible is missing in your life?”

His mouth dried. Hell, could his mother suddenly see inside his
head? He wanted to deny everything. Tell his mother she was way off course and
he opened his mouth to do so.

Anything
emotional
scares
you
to
death
.

His stomach rolled and the floor felt unsteady under his feet.
He sank into his chair. God, Annika was right. His heart pounded, sweat poured
off him and he was having trouble breathing. For every relationship that he’d
ended or had ended for him, he’d never felt like this. Annika knew him better
than he knew himself. “Mom.”

“Yes.”

He swallowed hard. “I love her.”

The moment he’d uttered the words his panic subsided. He
loved
her. Loved the way she made him laugh, the
infuriating way she made him own up to his foibles, and the way she wrapped
herself around him at night and listened to him talk even when she was exhausted
and not interested in the different types of cardboard generated from recycled
paper.

“Of course you love her, darling. We’ve all known it for
weeks.” Kathleen sighed. “Now you need to find her and tell her.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Bride loves invitations. Now need sample kit 4 casual outdoor
wedding in August. Bride in Milwaukee for F2F meet. Can U come to us for
Thanksgiving? Max and I would love 2 see you! Nicole x

Send Bride’s number for me 2 contact. Thanksgiv would b great. Can
I bring Ax? Anni x

Annika put down her phone and smiled. The thought of
going back to Whitetail no longer daunted her. Whitetail was finding its niche
and she was finding hers. She picked up a paint palette. An enormous canvas
dominated the small light-filled space she’d rented and the cacophony of colors
that swirled, from devastating black to the hope of nature’s green, told the
story of what she’d seen on her trip and her interpretation of it. She had no
clue how it would be received by the gallery that was expecting a traditional
Dawn
,
Day
and
Dusk
series, but the most important thing was that
she’d done it. Almost done it. She still had a ways to go before it was
completed but she’d make the gallery’s hanging date. Just.

She checked her sketches—the ones she’d made on golden sandy
beaches, the ones she’d drawn next to nuclear power plants and Chicago’s Deep
Tunnel, and a dozen other places around Lake Michigan and Lake Superior. She’d
spent three weeks of September alone with only a dog and her sketch pad for
company, and she’d found a sort of peace. It wasn’t perfect but it was better
than what she’d had in years. Ironically, a big part of the new Annika was due
to Finn. The man who couldn’t love her had been the reason she had her art back
and money in the bank. Whitetail was slowly growing her wedding invitation
business and her darling brother had “backup” work for her if she ever needed
it.

The only thing missing in her life was Finn. She ached for him
but without love between them she knew they had nothing, which was why she’d
changed her phone and cut her ties with all the Callahans. As hard as that was,
it was the only way she knew how to move on. She’d finally confessed all to
Nicole on a late-night apology phone call halfway through her trip, and although
she doubted Finn would contact her she’d asked Nicole not to give him her
number. Cold turkey was the only way she’d survive and grow into this new and
more rounded life of hers. She rolled her shoulders back, swiped marine blue
onto her pallet and scraped it across the canvas in a big, bold stroke.

* * *

“Any news?” Kathleen selected a miniature éclair from
the ornate cake stand that was positioned between her and Finn on the table at
Palmer House.

“None.” No one would tell Finn where Annika was. He’d spoken to
her brother who’d offered to sell him an apartment on Lake Michigan but refused
to tell him where his sister was. He’d tracked down her parents through their
company called Third Age Travel and spoken to them in Fiji. “Anni is safe and
well but that’s all we can say.”

They’d hung up before he could utter another word. Nicole had
sounded like she really wanted to tell him but had said she was sorry she
couldn’t. He’d even trawled through the Weddings That WOW website looking for
her phone number, but every inquiry was directed through Nicole. “She doesn’t
want to be found.”

He sipped the Earl Grey tea and wished it had a shot of
something stronger in it. He’d spent his vacation searching for Annika but short
of doing a line search of Wisconsin he didn’t know what else to do. “It’s
ironic, don’t you think, that when I finally fall in love and realize it, I’ve
screwed it up before I’ve started.”

He leaned back from the table, finding the refined atmosphere
stifling. The sports bar Sean had dragged him out to the other night had at
least been noisy, making it hard to think.

“Don’t give up just yet.” Kathleen pulled an envelope out of
her handbag. “Geoffrey gets invited to just about every gallery opening in
Illinois, Wisconsin and Indiana. He brought over a folder of them the other
night and asked me if I wanted to attend any of them. I thought I’d go to this
one.”

She slid the rectangular invitation across the table.

Milwaukee’s
Waterways
Gallery
presents
a
retrospective
—
Living
Lakes
.

Annika’s name was in the list of contributing artists.

* * *

Annika’s stomach churned as she walked the short
distance from the parking garage to the Waterways Gallery. Agitation pummeled
her and it had taken her three attempts to park the car. If she’d thought
watching the gallery men carry
Act
Now
from her studio into their truck was hard, she
realized it had nothing on walking into the gallery and seeing it hung. Seeing
other people looking at it and listening to them commenting on it.

She gulped in a breath. She really should have let Axel come
with her. He at least could have parked the car straight, but as much as she
loved the support of her brother she knew she had to face down her demons of
opening night on her own. It was all part of the new Annika. She stopped outside
the gallery’s huge and heavy glass doors.
You
can
do
this
. Rolling back her shoulders, and lifting her
head, she pushed all her weight on the large silver handle. Her shoulder slammed
into the glass with a thud.

Breathe
.
The
sign
says
Pull
.

She rubbed her shoulder. Oh, God, just getting inside the door
was a challenge. This time she pulled and stepped inside.

Her throat tightened. There were more people than she’d
expected. Muted music played quietly and some of the black-clad waitstaff
carried trays filled with glasses of champagne and assorted drinks, while others
held platters of tiny canapés which they offered to the crowd of attendees.

“Drink?”

“Yes please.” She gave the waiter a weak smile and managed to
pick up a glass of champagne without knocking over the other glasses. It was a
start.

She picked up a program and started at painting one, planning
to work methodically around the gallery, especially given that
Act
Now
was number sixteen. She had no rush to see it or
hear what was being said about it. All that would come soon enough. There were a
great variety of works—some ink and wash, watercolors, fabric art and of course,
oils. Most of the scenes depicted either tranquil lake scenes or were season
specific. There were quite a few lighthouses and she loved every one of
them.

She rounded the partition and came face-to-face with
Act
Now
. They’d hung it on the main wall and lit it so
that it almost seemed three-dimensional, reaching out to the observer and
demanding their attention. It dominated the space and dwarfed the other
paintings around it. She knew it would either be loved or hated and there
wouldn’t be any other emotion in between.

“Annika.”

She turned around to see Richard, the gallery owner, walking
toward her smiling. “I’ve got great news. Someone’s put in an offer for the
painting. In fact they’ve offered more than the asking price.”

Annika stared at him in disbelief. “I’m stunned.”

He laughed and then immediately sobered. “You shouldn’t be.
I’ve had one critic describe it as ‘broad strokes of heartache leaching from the
canvas,’ and another as ‘harsh and questioning yet purveying hope.’ I think
you’ll want to be cutting out tomorrow’s reviews and keeping them for your
scrapbook.”

She nodded but she knew differently. Of course she was thrilled
that this painting was being received so well but good or bad, she was never
again defining herself by one or two people’s opinions.

“We’re also very honored tonight to have one of the curators
from the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art and I’d like to introduce you to
him. He was quite taken with
Act
Now
.”

Annika’s legs trembled and she sat down on the banquette behind
her. “Do you normally get a curator come to your openings?”

Richard smiled. “Not often, but if they’re in the area they
call in.” He turned, quickly scanning the room and then frowned. “I can’t see
him at the moment but you stay here and I’ll go find him.”

“Okay.” It was all a bit surreal and she stood up again,
accepted another glass of champagne and hugged herself tight.
It
only
takes
one
painting
,
Annika
.

Kathleen had been right.

“It’s amazing, Annika.”

The deep and melodic voice that was an intrinsic part of her—a
voice she’d recognize anywhere—sounded behind her.

Finn
. Her heart shuddered and her
hand gripped her glass so hard she was amazed it didn’t shatter. Without knowing
exactly how she got all her body parts to cooperate, she turned around slowly
and made herself breathe.

He stood in front of her in a charcoal-gray tailored suit that
fitted him perfectly. His curls were tamed and his white shirt and lake-blue tie
lightened his eyes to the color of rich, dark chocolate. He was easily the most
handsome man in the room and the most handsome man she’d ever met, but it was
the lines around his eyes that she noticed most. They hadn’t been there the last
time she’d seen him. The time he’d stood in the cabin and told her he couldn’t
love her.
I
don’t
do
emotional
connections
.

He smiled at her. “Nothing at all like your pretty lighthouses
but totally awe-inspiring.”

She steeled her heart. “I wasn’t in a pretty mood when I
painted it.”

Finn had rehearsed in his head exactly what he was going to say
but from the moment he’d glimpsed Annika, every word had vacated his brain. All
his senses were hungry for her, so much so that he barely heard her reply. She
was wearing her long hair down and it flowed across her shoulders in a shimmer
of white and gold, brushing against her simple, black sheath dress. Her only
accessory was a necklace of tiny seed pearls which caressed her throat. Her
mouth was as red and lush as ever, only her face was thinner, but it was her
eyes that held him riveted. Behind the wariness there was something new—he
couldn’t put his finger on it exactly but whatever it was it suited her. She
looked elegant and slightly remote and a part of him wished she was wearing her
misshapen, paint-stained T-shirt or was sleep-rumpled in one of his shirts.

He’d seen her painting earlier—chaos merging with calm—and it
had gripped him by the throat. Now as she stood in front of it with her
commanding height and the square set of her shoulders, she was having the same
effect. She held herself like an Amazon warrior—his warrior. The one who’d
fought for him even though he’d been too blind to see it.

A rush of love so strong surged through him, nearly knocking
him off his feet. He moved toward her, desperate to touch her, but she took a
long drink from her glass and then fixed him with an uncompromising stare.

“Why are you here, Finn?”

Any thoughts of her falling straight into his arms got hammered
on the spot and it disconcerted him. “I wanted to see you. See your art.”

“To gloat? I’ll save you the trouble.” Her face hardened. “In
front of all these people I acknowledge that you were right. I needed to get out
and live my life my way. I needed to paint.
Act
Now
is the first step.”

He started to sweat. “You really think I’d come here to
gloat?”

“I recall some of your last words to me were ‘I won’t let you
live your life through me.’ Given that, I really don’t know what to think, Finn.
Is there a reason that I should?”

A few people looked toward them and heads started turning. Finn
lowered his voice but he couldn’t quite keep an edge of anxiety from seeping
into it. “Annika, can we please go and talk somewhere more private?”

She sucked in her lips and shook her head. “There’s nothing I
have to say to you that can’t be said here.”

He tugged on his collar. “I promise you, I didn’t come here to
gloat. In fact I’m thrilled you’re painting again.” He smiled at her expecting
to see some softening in her stance when he told her the news. “So happy in fact
that I’ve bought
Act
Now
.”

Her face drained of color. “No!”

No
? That wasn’t part of the script
in his head.

This time the crowd fell silent and all heads snapped their way
with curiosity and interest written clear on their faces.

Damn it, he had to get her into a private space.

With a laugh he said to the crowd, “And people think artists
can’t haggle over price.” Sliding his hand under Annika’s elbow he continued
talking, “Come on, Ms. Jacobson, let’s go and talk privately and find a figure
we can agree on.”

She gave him a look filled with such utter loathing that he
seriously thought she’d prefer to walk on hot coals than to walk with him, but
she slowly put her glass down on a tray and took a step. As they walked away, he
heard someone in the crowd saying, “Who is that?”

Ushering her into the first door they came to, they were
instantly enveloped by the smell of warm wool. He’d found the cloakroom. He
quickly closed the door behind him and stood in front of it in case she tried to
leave before he’d said what he needed to say. He no longer cared about the
script. She’d told him she loved him. Now he loved her so he went straight to
the point. “Annika, please listen to me. I love you.”

She shrugged as if he’d just said, “I think the Chicago Bears
will whoop the Packers.” “You don’t love me, Finn.”