Welcome to Paradise (22 page)
A vision of his late wife, Molly, drifted before his eyes. Calm, serene and capable in the face of emergency, be it a crop failure or an accident in the field or feeding twenty-five hungry men on a moment’s notice. If she were here, she’d have the woman wrapped in a quilt on the couch, treating her with an ice pack and some hot soup. The quintessential nurturer. So good at coping with emergencies he almost thought she went out looking for them. So busy taking care of everybody else, she didn’t seem to have time for him.
He forced those traitorous thoughts from his mind. Molly was a saint. Everyone said so. They said so even before she died from a deadly virus two years ago. Certainly his life had never been the same since. And never would be again. Just thinking of how his plans for the perfect life with the perfect wife had gone so wrong left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He reached into the freezer and grabbed a handful of ice cubes, put them in a plastic bag and pressed it against the woman’s eyelid, holding it tightly for her as she sat at his kitchen table.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said, taking the ice bag from him and laying it on the table instead of against her eye. She was lying. She was too pale to be fine, but her smile was more determined than sincere.
“I’m Bridget McCloud,” she said extending her hand. “McCloud Advertising.” Automatically he took her hand and was struck by her firm grip. A woman used to getting what she wanted, he guessed.
It didn’t take long to find out what she wanted. Him.