Heartstrings and Diamond Rings (30 page)

Just hearing her name made Brandon feel depressed all over again. “There’s nothing between us. Not anymore.”

“That’s right. There’s not. So there’s no need for you to sound so miserable, is there?”

Brandon kept telling himself he just needed to get back in the swing of things. Once he put a crew together and renovations were under way, his old life would come roaring back, and he’d be in the groove again.

“No,” he said. “There isn’t. I just need to get back to Plano and shut things down. Then it’s full steam ahead.”

“Hell, yeah,” Tom said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just wait until we get the warehouse roughed in. Once the framing and Sheetrock are up, that’s when you’ll start to see it come together. And that, my friend, is when all those dollars signs will start dancing in your head.”

Tom was right. There was always that one moment during every project that he felt it shift from what it had been to what it was going to become. From that moment forward it was a race to the end, the excitement building, until finally it was ready to be put on the market. And then came the money.

In this case, it was going to be one hell of a lot of money.

Brandon got into his car and drove back to Plano, ticking off in his mind the things he needed to do once he got there. Tomorrow he’d spend the day getting his business documents and tax information in order and deciding how he was going to break the news to his clients that he was shutting down the business. Then he had to get the home tour out of the way. Alison’s plan was to put the finishing touches on the house on Friday before the tour on Saturday, but he decided he’d call in a professional cleaning service to do the last minute cleaning so they didn’t have to. He’d say it was his contribution to the cause. The least he could do.

The very least.

But no matter what, he didn’t want to see Alison. He just couldn’t. So he decided he’d drop a house key off with Heather, then make himself scarce on Friday and Saturday. Once the tour was over, he’d spend the next week making calls to his clients and issue refunds for matches unmade. After that, he’d contact his grandmother’s attorney, let him know that he was leaving, and turn over possession of the house to the First Baptist Church. Then he’d hit the road for Houston, where he was going to turn an old warehouse into luxury loft apartments and watch the money roll in.

It was nearly nine o’clock when he reached Plano and pulled into his driveway. He grabbed the mail and went into the house, where Jasmine greeted him with that screeching meow, winding her way around his ankles. He hadn’t yet figured out what he was going to do with her when he left. Maybe the neighbor across the street who’d kept her when his grandmother died would be willing to take her again. He had no intention of abandoning her, but the answer hadn’t come to him yet.

He started to toss the stack of mail onto his kitchen table when he noticed an oversized square envelope hand‑addressed to him. He opened it up, and he couldn’t believe what he saw.

A wedding invitation?

Mr. Jack Warren and Ms. Melanie Davis request the honor of your presence as they join each other in holy matrimony…

Jack and Melanie? Brandon had to think for a moment, but then he remembered. They were the first couple he’d successfully matched up.

Then Brandon saw a handwritten note included in the envelope
. It never would have happened without you, Brandon. We hope you can be with us on our special day. Love, Jack and Melanie.

Brandon picked up the invitation again and stared at it, thinking back to the beginning when he’d been so cynical. He’d matched up these two with very little thought. The fact that they actually liked each other meant he could collect his money with no further work, and he’d considered that a good thing. But not for one moment had his thought process gone beyond that. Not once had he ever envisioned this.

Brandon had never been to a wedding in his life. He’d always imagined lace and bows and men in uncomfortable suits and cake and punch and old ladies pulling out tissues to dab their eyes because it was all
so beautiful.

Then all at once, he was transported back fifteen years, to the times he’d watched his grandmother put on her best Sunday dress and leave the house to go to her umpteenth wedding. She said nothing made her happier than to watch the people she’d matched up commit to each other forever and know she’d had a part in it.
That’s how I know I’m doing what the good Lord wants me to
, she’d told him.
Someday you’ll find your calling, too.

And all he could think back then was
My calling is to travel the country, make millions, and live it up for the rest of my life.

When he’d jumped into his grandmother’s business, it had been almost like a joke to him. Pair people up almost at random, and if something stuck, okay. If it didn’t, that was okay, too. He’d take whatever money he’d earned and move on.

But this…this proved it had meant so much more.

His first wedding. He hadn’t had a clue it would feel like this.

At nine o’clock on Thursday night, Alison sat with Heather on her sofa, leaning against the sofa pillow, sipping the martini Heather had made for her. She’d pulled her feet up beside her, which she’d tucked into a pair of fuzzy purple socks that had been hideous even before Lucy had clawed them half to shreds. Ricky had plopped his fat butt on the sofa beside her, his head against her thigh, purring so loudly she was surprised the neighbors hadn’t complained. She petted him absentmindedly, and he turned and looked up at her adoringly.

Well. At least one male on the planet was crazy about her.

She looked down at her martini. “I think I’m going to stop drinking.”

“Please don’t,” Heather said. “Tony and I own a bar. You’re half our revenue.”

Alison dropped her head to the sofa cushion behind her. “But it’s not working. I can’t get him out of my head. I dated Randy for eight months and thought he was going to ask me to marry him, and I banished him from my brain in about two hours.”

“That’s because Randy was slime.”

“And Brandon? What was he?”

Heather shrugged. “I know what he did. The lies he told. But I still think he cared about you. He was just the wrong man at the wrong time.”

“Please don’t tell me that. I need to find a way to hate him. Tell me he’s slime like Randy, and maybe I’ll forget all about him.”

“He’s slime like Randy.” She paused. “Except that he offered to bring in a professional cleaning service so the house would really sparkle for the tour and we didn’t have to mess with it at the last minute. That was nice.”

“Will you stop with the redeeming qualities? He’s a terrible person who hurt me and I hate him.” Alison sighed, her shoulders drooping. “Or not.”

Heather tilted her head. “Do you need some ice cream to go with the vodka?”

“No. Right now I’m just a lush. That’ll make me an overweight lush.”

“You have a right to drown your sorrows for a while.”

“Do you know I spend half my life having sorrows, and then I have to spend the other half drowning them? But I guess that’s good news for you and Tony, economically speaking.”

She looked at her half-empty martini glass, thought about taking another sip, then simply set it down on the coffee table with a heavy sigh.

“You’re not doing too well with this, are you?” Heather asked.

Alison took a breath. “No. Not really. And I’m
so
not looking forward to going to Brandon’s house on Saturday.”

“Would it help if I took over as tour guide?”

Alison forced a smile. “You? Please. I don’t think you could work up much enthusiasm for a hundred-year-old house. You’d be telling people how ugly the furniture was and swearing there were rats and spiders in the basement.”

“Hey, I could keep my thoughts to myself. Just give me your notes on the history of the house, and I swear I’ll play nice.” She shrugged. “To tell you the truth, the place kind of grew on me.”

Alison’s smile faded. “I know. Me, too.”

Heather sighed. “I’m sorry, sweetie. That was the wrong thing to say.”

“No. You don’t have to tiptoe around me. And you don’t have to take over for me, either, okay? I’ll be just fine.”

She hoped so, anyway. But until the tour was over and she left Brandon’s house for the last time, she couldn’t even begin to put it all behind her.

Just then, Ethel jumped up on the sofa beside Ricky. She reached out a paw and tapped Alison on the leg. Alison scratched her behind the ears, and she practically turned herself inside out to take full advantage of all five fingernails.

Then Alison remembered. Jasmine had done the same thing.

She felt a shiver of worry. Jasmine. Brandon was leaving town. What was he going to do with her?

The next morning, Brandon slept late, only to be awakened at nine‑thirty by the musical trill of an incoming text message. He rolled over and fumbled for his phone on the nightstand.

The text was from Alison.

His heart beating rapid fire, he opened it.
What about Jasmine?
she asked.

If only he knew. He still hadn’t come up with a solution.

I’ll find her a home
, he typed, and sent the message. A moment later, Alison responded.
She’s too old. Nobody will want her.

Sadly, Alison was right. He wouldn’t mind keeping her, but since he rarely stayed in one place for long, taking her with him would be next to impossible. But how was he going to find a home for a fifteen‑year‑old cat?

Then he heard his text tone again. He looked at the screen.
I’ll take her.

That instantly brought back memories of the day he’d been working on his air unit and she brought him her questionnaire.
I know what you’re thinking
, she’d said.
Don’t even go there. Three is absolutely normal.
Four
means you’re a crazy cat lady.

That seemed like a hundred years ago.

Since he didn’t know what else to say, he texted back.
Thank you.

A minute passed, then another message came in.
Of course, I’ll need to change her name to Fred.

For some reason he couldn’t fathom, Brandon felt tears burn behind his eyes. It was a
joke
, but…

But it was so Alison.

He’d realized there was something special about her from the first time he met her. But it had taken him until now to realize just how special, and just how much he was giving up by leaving her behind.

He texted back.
She’ll need a sex change operation.
And a minute later, Alison responded.
I’ll call Zach. He’ll advise.
And she followed that with a smiley face.

Even now, even with how much he’d hurt her, her gentle sense of humor was still there. He would have thought she’d carry the betrayal with her for a long time to come, but now he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Once he was gone, hope would blossom inside her all over again that true love might be just around the corner, because there wasn’t a pessimistic bone in her body. She was the most trusting soul he’d ever known, a person who wanted to be cynical and wary, but in the end it was a weight she just couldn’t carry. And when it fell away, all that was left was a woman who trusted that strangers wouldn’t hurt her irreparably and the people she loved would always look out for her.

He’d told her he was going to miss her. He just hadn’t known how much.

He lay back against his pillow, a memory flashing through his mind of that day his father had left him, something he thought he’d long forgotten. Not the gut-wrenching abandonment he’d felt. He’d take that to his grave. He was just now remembering what his grandmother had said to him that morning when he got up to find his old man gone.

You can call this place home, Brandon. I don’t care where you go or what you do, now or twenty years from now. You can always call this place home.

And that was exactly what it felt like now.

His grandmother had been the one person on this earth who had tried to give him some semblance of family, but he had already been so screwed up that he never would let her. It wasn’t until now, looking at his adolescence through the eyes of an adult, that he realized just how much she’d tried to be the family he desperately needed. How might his life have been different if he’d taken the love his grandmother had wanted to give him?

Better question: How would his life be different in the future if he took the love Alison wanted to give him?

When Alison’s alarm clock went off on Saturday morning, she slapped it silent and collapsed against the pillow again, wishing she could sleep straight through this day rather than go to Brandon’s house.

Brandon’s house? It really wasn’t his house after all. Technically it belonged to the First Baptist Church.

Finally she shoved the covers back as best she could with three cats draped over them and rose from the bed. She was thankful, at least, that he didn’t intended to be around for the tour. She didn’t know if she could handle seeing him without losing it all over again. Since she’d left him that morning, she’d tried to get angry. Had every right to get angry. But any anger she managed to summon would last for only a second or two, and then she’d remember the night they spent together and start wishing one more time for something that could never be.

An hour later, she and Heather loaded tour programs and raffle baskets into her car and headed for Brandon’s house.

“You’re not wearing the blue dress,” Heather said.

Alison shrugged weakly. “Yeah, I know. I just…​couldn’t.”

Heather just nodded. “It’s just as well. You said it was uncomfortable.”

Yeah, but it wasn’t the discomfort of the dress itself that kept her from wearing it. It was the discomfort of knowing it had belonged to Brandon’s great-grandmother. After what had happened between them, she just couldn’t face putting it on.

A few minutes later, Alison pulled up to the curb. She and Heather got out, and as they were grabbing boxes from the trunk, Karen pulled up behind them. She got out of her car with a tray of hors d’oeuvres from Maggie’s Café.