Back to the Good Fortune Diner (30 page)

Dammit. She should have explained herself from the start. “I was going to a job interview.”

“I know. Your parents told him. So, let me ask you, why are you involving yourself with my family if all you intend to do is leave?”

“What are you talking about? I never said anything to make them think—”

“You told Simon you’d help him find an internship. You promised you’d be here for him.” His eyes burned with cold fire. “How could you do that to him? Don’t you know what his mother’s like?”

With a sinking feeling, she realized he was right. She’d made promises she couldn’t keep. She’d told Simon she’d help him figure out his future. She’d told him he had a lot of time. But
she
didn’t. Not enough to be there for him the way he needed her to be.

The contempt in the old man’s hard expression made her feel lower than dirt. “I’ve had to endure a lot of grief since Daphne left,” William said, locking his hands together. “I carried this family through some of the toughest times we’ve had to face. I raised Chris on my own after his mama died, and then I raised Simon while Chris dealt with his divorce.” His glare nearly sliced her in half. “We don’t need another woman drifting in and out of our lives. My son and grandson have been stomped on plenty enough. I don’t need to be picking up the pieces after you leave and break their hearts.”

Her stomach clenched. “I swear, it’s not like that—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me.” His face reddened. “You always planned on leaving. I knew the moment I set eyes on you that you thought you were better than us, better than your family and far too good for Everville. You’re a selfish girl, and you don’t know anything about commitment or love.” He shook his head. “I thought it was in your culture to be cruel. But I see it now. It’s
you.
”

William’s proclamation knocked the breath out of her. Tears built in her throat, the pain of the truth nearly choking her.

He wasn’t done yet. “I’ve seen you with Chris and Simon. Playing at something you’re not, pretending you care. But you don’t give a damn. They’re only a means to an end.” His face was purple now, and spittle flew from his mouth. “You don’t think about how you make them feel, how you change things around here. But I see it every day you come. The way Simon tries to hide how much he wants to please you. And Chris...all you’ve done is make him happy and give him hope. Well, what’s going to happen when you leave? How do you think he’ll feel when you tell him he’s not good enough to keep you?” His anguish showed clearly on his face. “You’re a heartless bitch. I pity any man who wants to be with you.”

“What’s going on here?”

Chris stood in the doorway, his suitcase on the ground. His hair was mussed and dark circles hung beneath his eyes. The floor beneath her wobbled. She took a tentative step forward, but stopped herself. She wanted to throw her arms around him and hold him back, explain it all, get him away from this crucible of anger. But she could see the flexing of his hands and knew from the darkening of his features that he’d heard everything.

He strode in front of his father, placing Tiff behind him. “I can’t leave here for a day without you pulling some kind of garbage, can I?”

Oh, no. He must not have heard everything. “Chris, please, it’s all right.” Tears blurred her voice, and she struggled to clear them from her throat. “Let me explain—”

“No. It’s not all right. It was never all right. You don’t deserve to be treated like this.” He cupped her cheek tenderly. The fire burning in his red-rimmed blue eyes made her want to cry.

He whipped back around to face William and stabbed a finger into his chest.

“You don’t say those things to Tiffany. Ever. You don’t say those things to anyone. You don’t get to judge her, or me, or Simon or anyone else, do you hear?”

William slapped his hand aside. “How dare you. Don’t you point and accuse me. You have no idea—”

“Shut up. I’m sick of hearing you talk and making excuses and telling me about the way things were. Wake up, Dad. Things change. The world changes. And you’ve been so stubborn about how they should be that you can’t see how they could be.” He half turned toward Tiffany. “I love this woman. I don’t care what you think about that.”

Tiffany gasped.
Love her?
No, no, Chris couldn’t love her. She covered her mouth, sick to her stomach.

“You’re a damned fool,” William rasped harshly. “She won’t make you happy. She won’t do anything but leave your sorry ass.”

Chris lost it. He grabbed his father by the shoulders and shoved him against the wall. His crutches clattered to the ground. Tiffany screamed.

William’s face flushed dark red, then purple, then drained of all color. He was sweating profusely, and he made a grunting noise.

“Chris, stop!” Tiffany hauled on his steel-cable arm. “Something’s wrong.”

He let go, and the old man slumped to the floor, clutching his chest, breathing heavily, his eyes going distant with pain.

Chris’s hands trembled as he fell to his knees next to his father. “Call 9-1-1.”

* * *

T
HEY KEPT
W
ILLIAM COMFORTABLE
until the paramedics arrived. He was still awake and breathing as they strapped him into the gurney, but he clutched his chest and moaned in pain. Chris rode in the ambulance with his father. Tiffany followed with Simon in her car.

The teen didn’t say anything as he glared out the passenger-side window. She could smell the acrid fear coming off him, but she didn’t try to placate him with meaningless words or platitudes. And she didn’t think it was appropriate to try to explain herself while William could be dying.

She had too much on her mind to form a coherent thought anyhow. Chris’s declaration had sideswiped her. How could he possibly love her? Why did he have to tell her before she’d had a chance to give them both the out they needed? Then she thought about what William had said and realized he was right—she was cold and selfish. She was more worried about telling Chris about her new job than she was about William’s health.

When they arrived at the E.R., the nurse informed them William was being taken into surgery. Chris was with his father now as he was being prepped. The nurse let Simon in to see him, but because Tiffany wasn’t family, she had to stay in the waiting room.

She perched on a chair, hands clutched in her lap. It was almost two hours before Chris and Simon reappeared, both of them looking weary.

She stood shakily. Chris went straight to her, and though he engulfed her in his arms, she realized he was seeking comfort more than offering it. The smell of stale sweat and antiseptic soap wafted from his skin. Delicately, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Simon glared at her over his father’s shoulder.

“My father had a heart attack,” Chris told her bleakly. “They said it’s pretty bad. He’s going to need a double bypass. Surgery’s going to take a while.” His voice sounded distant and hollow. “This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” She gripped his forearms. “He had high blood pressure and other health problems. You didn’t cause this.”

He shook his head, not believing her. If anyone was to blame for all this, it was Tiffany. She’d been the one William was yelling at before Chris had stepped in.

“Do you want me to drive you back to the farm?” she asked. “You could get a shower, a change of clothes.”

“No. I want to stay in case—” He cut himself off. “Simon should go back, though. He could grab a book or something.”

The teen turned his full glare on Tiffany. “I’m not going anywhere with
her.
” He stormed off.

“Simon—” Before he could even ask, his son had disappeared out the E.R. doors. “What is going on around here?” Chris forked both hands through his hair. His knees gave out as he dropped into a chair, exhausted, as though he’d aged ten years in the past few hours.

It was time to fess up. She hated that she had to do it now, but it wouldn’t be any better after William was out of surgery.

“I have something to tell you,” she began unsteadily. She sat next to him and tried for a smile to soften the blow. “I got a job.”

It took him a moment to process that. “That’s great. Where?”

“In New Jersey. I’m starting next Monday.”

She didn’t think he could go paler. He glanced away from her, then around, searching for answers. “Quite a time to be springing this on me,” he murmured lowly.

“I’m sorry.” All she wanted to do was put her arms around him and never let go. But she didn’t. “There’s something else I have to tell you. I wasn’t working at my parents’ diner yesterday. I was in New Jersey doing the interview. That’s the real reason I couldn’t go to the wedding with you. The editor at Haute Docs Books called me the day before. I didn’t have a choice.” She swallowed thickly. “That was why your dad was yelling at me. Simon found out before I had a chance to explain.”

He stared at her, then hung his head. The silence was worse than his anger.

She forced herself to go on. She didn’t want him to take the blame for anything—not his son’s outburst, not William’s heart attack. It was probably selfish of her to think of this as her final gift to him. But it was all she had to offer. “Simon saw me when I was heading out. My parents told him where I was going. That’s why he and your dad are mad at me. I lied to all of you, and I’m sorry.”

He sat unmoving, unblinking. She waited for him to acknowledge her. “Chris?”

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth to start with?” he asked quietly. His glassy gaze slowly traveled up to her face. He looked at her as though she were a stranger. “Why didn’t you say you were going to a job interview?”

“I wasn’t sure I was going to get the job. I didn’t think it would matter to you.”

“Of course it matters to me.
You
matter to me. And I want to be in on the loop when you make life-changing decisions.” He blew out a long breath, rubbed his palms over his face.

“I’m sorry.” She would never be able to say it enough. His disappointment was clear. This was almost as bad as the moment she’d told her parents she’d won a scholarship to NYU and was majoring in English. At least then she’d felt justified and righteous in her decision. Right now, she felt like crap. “I didn’t want to spoil the time we have left.”

“What time?” he demanded, voice rising. People glanced over. More quietly, he said, “If you’re starting work on Monday, that’s barely a week. And instead of telling me so I could figure out something... A way for us...” He shook his head, pressed a fist against his mouth as his eyes went distant.

“No. Never mind. You told me at the very start you would leave.” All emotion drained from him. He turned his ice-blue eyes on her. “That’s why you kept your distance. That’s why you didn’t think to share even this little piece of your life with me. I should’ve known better.” His voice hitched and he clenched his jaw, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. “Look, my dad might be dying. I have too much to deal with right now to have to handle you on top of it, so could you just...leave?”

That last word punched her in the chest. “You don’t have your car here. You—”

“I’ll call Jane. Go. Live your life, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. Just do me a favor and stay out of mine from now on.”

She rose, light-headed and off balance. She wanted to say something to make Chris feel better. But he’d turned to stone in his chair, staring straight ahead, pain digging deep trenches in his brow and around his eyes and mouth. Hesitantly, she started for the door. When he didn’t stop her, she turned away and didn’t look back. She refused to acknowledge the jagged emotion clawing in her chest, ignored the hot sting in the back of her throat.

Outside, the air-conditioned chill slid off her skin as she readjusted to the summer heat and fading sun. She smelled a summer storm brewing. A migraine drummed lightly on her temples.

A different sensation filled her when she spotted Simon sitting on the walkway with his back against the brick wall, hugging his knees.

She padded up to him. “Simon?”

He hastily wiped at his wet cheeks. “What do you want?”

That question was getting harder to answer by the minute. “Will you give me a chance to explain?”

“Explain what? That you’re going to leave? I don’t care.”

It hurt more than she thought it would to hear him say that. “I have a life to get back to. A career—”

“I already have a mom who screws around with me. I don’t need you to play house with us, too.”

She didn’t think she could have handled another blow, but there it was, and she staggered. “I’m sorry.” She could say it a thousand times, but she doubted her apology would sound any less pathetic or make her feel any better.

Simon shook his head and let out a long breath through his nose. For a hopeful moment, she thought he’d forgive her. “If you leave...don’t come back. I can take it, but Dad’s not that strong. Don’t call him. Don’t email him. If you’re going to visit your family, fine. But I’ll know, and I’ll make sure you don’t go near my father, you hear me?”

The lump in her throat stuck as she acknowledged unhappily, “Loud and clear.”

She turned, made her way to her car, got in and started the engine. Every muscle and joint in her body was stiff. A weight settled in her chest as she pulled onto the long, deserted road back to her parents’ house.

The sky opened. It started to rain.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Four weeks later
New Jersey

“‘I
T
WAS A DARK
AND STORMY NIGHT
....’” Tiff read aloud in her most ominous voice.

“Holy crap, people actually write like that?” Maya laughed.

“This isn’t even the worst of them,” Tiffany said as she put the manuscript back onto the reject pile and rubbed her aching eyes. “I need to talk to the boss about putting some restrictions on these submissions. They won’t stop pouring in.”

“Admit it. You love it.”

Tiffany didn’t say anything at first. The work had been nonstop since she’d arrived at Haute Docs. At first she’d wanted to write personalized letters back to every author, but there simply wasn’t time. No matter how quickly or efficiently she worked, she couldn’t dig out from under the massive piles of unsolicited manuscripts. She didn’t want to admit she was nearing burnout only three weeks into the job, though, so all she said was, “Yeah.”