Nine
“Married,” Savannah repeated in a husky whisper.
Nash knew he’d shocked her, but no more than he had himself. The notion of marriage went against the grain. Something was either very wrong—or very right. He hadn’t decided yet.
“I don’t understand.” Savannah shook her head, making a vague gesture with her hands.
“Unfortunately, I don’t know if I’ll do a decent job of explaining it,” Nash said.
“Try.” Her hands were at her throat now, fingering the collar of her sweatshirt.
“This could work, Savannah, with a little effort on both our parts.”
“Marriage? You hate the very word.... I’ve never met anyone with a more jaded attitude toward love and romance. Is this some kind of joke?”
“Trust me. I was just as shocked at the idea as you are, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I wish it was a joke.” Nash’s choice of words must have been poor because Savannah recoiled from him. “It would be a marriage of convenience,” he added, hoping that might reassure her—or at least not scare her off.
“What?” she cried. “In other words, you intend to take what I consider sacred and make a mockery of it.”
It was difficult not to be defensive when Savannah was acting so unreasonable. “If you’ll listen, you might see there are advantages for both of us.”
“Take me back to my shop,” she said in a icy voice.
“I’m going there now, but I was hoping we could talk first.”
She said nothing, which didn’t bode well. Nash wanted to explain, ease her mind, ease his own, but he wasn’t sure he could. He’d spoken prematurely without giving the matter sufficient consideration. It was after they’d kissed under the weeping willow that the idea had occurred to him. It had shocked him so completely that for a time he could barely function. He’d needed to escape and now that they were on their way back into Seattle, he realized he needed to talk this over with her.
“I know this comes as a surprise,” he said, looking for a way to broach the subject once again. He exited from the freeway and was within a mile of Savannah’s shop.
Savannah looked steadfastly out the window, as if the houses they were passing mesmerized her.
“Say something,” Nash demanded. He drove into the alley where her car was parked and turned off the engine. He kept his hands tightly on the steering wheel.
“You wouldn’t want to hear what I’m thinking,” Savannah told him through clenched teeth.
“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But would you listen to what I have to say?”
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I don’t know if I can and keep a straight face.”
“Try,” he said, just as she had earlier.
“All right, go on, explain.” She closed her eyes.
“When I came to pick you up this afternoon, you were upset.”
She shrugged, unwilling to acknowledge even that much. It wasn’t an encouraging sign. He’d been premature in mentioning marriage. He wasn’t sure why he’d considered it so urgent that he couldn’t take the night to sleep on it first. Perhaps he was afraid he’d change his mind. Perhaps this was what he’d always wanted, and he needed to salvage his pride with the marriage-of-convenience proposal. Either way, it didn’t matter; he’d already shown his hand.
“You love your parents and want them to go after their dream, isn’t that right?”
“Would you simply make your point?”
“Fine, I will,” he said, his argument gaining momentum. “I’m offering you the perfect solution. You marry me.”
“In other words, you’re suggesting we mislead my parents into believing this is a love match?”
“I hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but, yes, I guess we would be misleading them. If that makes you uncomfortable, tell them the truth. Keep your maiden name if you want. That wouldn’t bother me at all. The point is, if you were married, your father and mother would feel free to move south for the winters the way they’ve always wanted.”
“What’s in this for you?” she demanded. “Don’t try to tell me you’re doing it out of the goodness of your heart, either. I know better.”
“You’re right, there’re advantages to me, too.”
She snickered softly. “Somehow I thought there would be.”
“That’s the beauty of my idea,” he said, trying to keep his irritation in check. Savannah was treating this like a joke while he was dead serious. A man didn’t mention the word marriage lightly. Nash had been through this before, but this time marriage would be on his terms.
“Go on,” Savannah snapped.
“As I said, there are certain advantages in this marriage for me, as well. The night of Susan’s wedding, John Stackhouse pulled me aside and told me that I was being considered for the position of senior partner.”
“But it would help if you were married.”
Savannah wasn’t slow-witted, that was for sure. “Something like that,” he admitted. “It seems the other senior partners are afraid that my bitterness about my own divorce has spilled over into other areas of my life.”
“Imagine that.”
Nash tried to hide his annoyance. Savannah was making this extremely difficult.
“There’re no guarantees for either of us, of course. If you agree to the terms of this marriage, that doesn’t mean your parents will pack up and head south. If we did go ahead with it, there’s nothing to say I’ll be made senior partner. There’s an element of risk for us both. You might get what you want and I might not. Or vice versa.”
“Ah, now I understand,” Savannah said in a slow, singsong voice. “That’s where the convenience part comes into play. You want an out.”
“That has nothing to do with it,” Nash flared.
“Do you think I’m stupid, Nash? Of course it does. No one wants a cripple for a wife,” she said furiously, “and if you can put an escape clause in the marriage contract, all the better.”
“That’s ridiculous! It has nothing to do with this.”
“Would you have proposed marriage to any other woman this way, suggesting a short-term relationship for the sake of convenience? Heaven forbid that you might feel some genuine affection for me!”
It took Nash a moment to compose himself. He’d acted on impulse, which was not only uncharacteristic but a huge mistake, one that had only led to greater confusion. “Maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea after all,” he began. “I should’ve ironed out the details before talking to you about it. If you want to find fault with me for that, then I’ll accept it with a heartfelt apology, but this business about me using you because I consider you less of a woman—you couldn’t be more wrong. Your suggestion insults us both.”
“Why do I have a hard time believing that?” Savannah asked. She sounded suspiciously close to tears, which grieved him more than her anger had.
“All I’m looking for here is a way of being fair to us both,” Nash argued. “Despite what you think, I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. You’re probably thinking people will admire you. Imagine Nash Davenport taking pity on that—”
“Savannah, stop.” He pressed his lips tightly together. She was making a mockery of his proposal, a mockery of herself.
“Are you saying I’m wrong?”
His self-control was stretched to the limit. “Don’t even suggest that,” he said.
“I have to go,” Savannah whispered. She turned from him, her fingers closing around the door handle. “It’d be best if we didn’t see each other again.”
Nash knew that the minute she left his car it would be over between them. He couldn’t allow that to happen, couldn’t let her leave, not without righting the wrong. He needed to do something, anything, to convince her he was sincere.
“Not yet,” Nash said, taking her by the shoulder.
“Let go of me.”
“Not without this.” He locked his arms around her waist and pulled her against him.
She didn’t resist, not for a second. Her own arms crept around his neck, and then they were kissing again, with the same passion as before.
He didn’t know how long they were in each other’s arms—or what brought him back to sanity. Possibly a noise from the street, or Savannah herself. He jerked his head up and buried his face in her shoulder, which was heaving with the strength of her reaction. Her fingers were buried in his hair.
“I find it amazing,” she whispered brokenly, “that you’re looking for a marriage in name only.”
He wasn’t sure if she was being humorous or not, but he wasn’t taking any chances. “We might need to revise that part of the agreement.”
“There won’t be any agreement, Nash.”
He was afraid of that. “Would you kindly listen to reason, Savannah? I wasn’t trying to insult you... I thought you’d like the idea.”
“Think again.” She was breathing deeply, clearly fighting to regain her composure.
“Are you willing to listen to reason?” he asked again, hoping he’d reached her, if on no other level than the physical.
“I’ve had to deal with a certain amount of cruelty in my life,” she said in a low voice. “Children are often brutal with their taunts and their name-calling. It was something I became accustomed to as a child. It hurt. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words cut far deeper.”
“Savannah, stop.” That she’d compare his proposal to the ridicule she’d endured as a child was too painful to hear.
She stiffened, her back straight. “I don’t want to see you again.”
The words hit him hard. “Why not?”
She opened the car door and stepped awkwardly into the alley. Her leg seemed to be bothering her and with some effort she shifted her weight. “I don’t trust myself with you...and I don’t trust you with me. I’ve got to take care of myself.”
“I want to help you, not hurt you,” he insisted.
She hung her head and Nash suspected she did so to hide the fact that she was crying. “Goodbye, Nash. Please don’t try to see me again.... Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.”
* * *
Two weeks later, Nash’s sister, Susan, strolled into Savannah’s shop. Savannah felt a sense of awe at the happiness that shone from the young woman’s eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon.”
“We’ve been back for several days.”
Following the wedding, Savannah rarely saw her clients. Whenever someone made the effort to stop in, it was a special treat. More so with Susan because Savannah had been so actively involved in the wedding. Actively involved with Nash, if she was willing to be honest, which at the moment she wasn’t.
“You look—” Savannah searched for the right word “—serene.” The two women hugged and Savannah held her friend tightly as unexpected tears moistened her eyes. She didn’t allow them to fall, not wanting Susan to see how emotional she’d become. “I’ve missed you,” she said. She had, but more than that, she’d missed Nash.
“Nash said the same thing. You both knew before I was married that I’d be moving to California with Kurt. Now you’re acting like it’s a big shock. By the way, Kurt sends his love.”
Savannah eased from Susan’s embrace. “What are you doing back in Seattle so soon? Kurt’s with you, isn’t he?”
“Why I’m here is a long story. As to your second question, Kurt couldn’t come. With the wedding and the honeymoon, he couldn’t get away. It’s the first time we’ve been apart since the wedding and I miss him dreadfully.” A wistful look came over her.
“What brings you to Seattle?”
Susan hesitated just a fraction of a second. “Nash.”
So her big brother had sent her. This was exactly what she should have expected from Nash. The man wasn’t fair—he’d use any means at his disposal to achieve his purpose.
“He doesn’t know I’m here,” Susan said as if reading Savannah’s thoughts. “He’d be furious if he ever found out. I phoned him when Kurt and I got home from our honeymoon and he said he was having several pieces of furniture shipped to us. Things that belonged to our parents. I was a little surprised, since we’re living in a small apartment and don’t have much space. Nash knows that. Kurt talked to him, too, and afterward we agreed something was wrong. The best way to handle the situation was for me to visit.”
“I see.” Savannah made busywork around her desk, turning off her computer, straightening papers, rearranging pens in their holder. “How is Nash?”
“Miserable. I don’t know why and he’s doing an admirable job of pretending otherwise. He’s spending a lot of time at the office. Apparently he’s tied up with an important case.”
“Divorce?” Savannah asked unnecessarily. That was his specialty—driving a wedge deeper and deeper between two people who’d once loved each other, increasing misery and heartache. Each divorce he handled lent credence to his pessimistic views. That wasn’t going to change, and she was a fool if she believed otherwise.
“You might have read about this case. It’s the one with Don Griffin, the man who owns all those great seafood restaurants. It’s really sad.”
Savannah did remember reading something about it. Apparently Mr. Griffin had an affair with a much younger woman. It was a story as old as time. She hadn’t realized Nash was involved, but should have. He was Seattle’s top divorce attorney, and naturally a man as wealthy and influential as Don Griffin would hire the very best.
“I know the case,” Savannah admitted.
“Nash’s been working late every night.” Susan paused and waited for Savannah to comment.
“He enjoys his work.”
“He used to, but I’m not so sure anymore. Something’s really bothering him.”
Their conversation was making Savannah uncomfortable. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s more than what’s going on at the law firm, though. Kurt and I both think it has something to do with you, but when I asked him, Nash nearly bit my head off. He wouldn’t even talk about you.”
Savannah smiled to herself. “Neither will I. Sometimes it’s better to leave well enough alone. We both appreciate your love and support, but what’s going on between Nash and me is our own business. Leave it at that, please.”
“All right.” Susan wasn’t happy about it, Savannah could tell, but the last thing she and Nash wanted or needed was Susan and Kurt meddling in their lives. Susan looked regretfully at the time. “I have to get back. The movers are coming this afternoon. I’m not taking much—we simply don’t have room for it. And with the stuff Nash is shipping... I don’t know why he insisted on sending us the rocking horse. Dad built it for him when he was a little kid and it was understood that Nash would hand it down to his own children. It’s been in the basement for years. I don’t know why he sent it to me. Kurt and I aren’t planning to start a family for a couple of years. Men just don’t make sense sometimes.”
“You’re only discovering that now?” Savannah teased.
Susan laughed. “I should know better after living with my brother all those years.”
They hugged and Susan left shortly afterward.
The day was exceptionally slow, and with time on her hands, Savannah sat at her desk and drew a design for a flower arrangement. Intent on her task, she worked for several minutes before she saw that it wasn’t a flower arrangement that was taking shape, but a child’s rocking horse.
* * *
“What do you mean Janice turned down our settlement proposal?” Don Griffin shouted. He propelled his large frame from the chair across from Nash’s desk and started pacing. His movements were abrupt and disjointed. “It was a fair offer, more than fair. You said so yourself.”
“That’s how these things work, Mr. Griffin. As I explained earlier, if you’ll recall, it was unlikely that your wife and her attorney would accept our first offer. It’s just the way the game’s played. Your wife’s attorney wouldn’t be earning his fee if he didn’t raise some objections.”
“How much longer is this going to drag on?” his client demanded. “I want this over with quickly. Give Janice what she wants. If she insists on taking control of the restaurants, fine, she can have them. She can have the house, the cars, our investments, too, for all I care.”
“I can’t allow you to do that.”
“Why not?” He slammed his hand down on the desk.
“You’ve hired me to represent you in a court of law, to look after your interests. If you make a decision now based on emotion, you’ll regret it later. These matters take time.”
“I haven’t got time,” the tall, stocky man said. Don Griffin was in his fifties, and beginning to show his age.
“Is there a reason we need to rush?” Nash hated surprises. If Don’s ex-girlfriend was pregnant, he didn’t want to find out about it in the courtroom.
“Yes!” the other man shouted. “There’s a very good reason. I hate this constant fighting, hate having my reputation raked over the coals in the press. Twenty-seven years of marriage—and after one indiscretion, Janice makes me look like a serial murderer. The restaurant’s receipts actually dropped ten percent after that story was leaked.”
Nash didn’t know who was responsible for that, but he could make an educated guess. Janice Griffin’s attorney, Tony Pound, stirred up controversy whenever possible, especially if it helped his case.
Nash made a note of the lost revenue and decided that when he phoned Tony later this afternoon, he’d tell him Janice’s compensation might not be as big as she’d hoped—not if the business failed due to negative publicity.
“If it goes on like this,” Don continued, “we may be filing for bankruptcy next.”
“I’ll make sure Mr. Pound learns this.”
“Good, and while you’re at it,” Don said, waving his finger at Nash, “do what you can about me seeing my daughter. Janice can’t keep me away from Amy, and this bull about me being a negative influence on our daughter is exactly that—bull.”
“I’ll arrange visitation rights for you as soon as I can.”
“See if I can have her this weekend. I’m going to the beach and Amy’s always loved the beach.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Is there anything else?”
His client paced, rubbing his hands together. “Have you seen my wife and daughter recently?” he asked.
“No. That would be highly unusual. Is there a reason you’re asking?”
“I... I was just wondering how they looked, that’s all. If they’re well.”
It was there in his eyes, Nash saw, the way it always was. The pain, the loneliness, the sense of loss so strong it brought powerful men and women to their knees. Nash thought of these moments when clients realized they were about to lose what they’d once considered their anchor. The chains were broken. With the anchors gone, it became a struggle to keep from drifting. Storms rose up, and that was when Nash learned the truth about his clients. Some weathered these tempests and came out stronger and more confident. Others struggled to stay afloat and eventually drowned.
Sadly, he didn’t know which kind of person Don Griffin would prove to be.
* * *
The urgency in her father’s voice frightened Savannah. His phone call came during her busiest time of day. It took her a moment to decipher what he was saying.
“Mom’s in the hospital?” Savannah repeated. Her blood ran cold at the thought.
“Yes.” Her father, who was always so calm and collected, was near panic. “She collapsed at home.... I didn’t know what to do so I called an aid car and they’ve brought her to the hospital. The doctors are with her now.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Savannah promised. Fortunately, Nancy had come in to help her, so she didn’t have to close the shop.
She’d always hated the smell of hospitals, she thought as she rushed into the emergency entrance of Northend Memorial. It was a smell that resurrected memories she’d pushed to the back of her mind.
Savannah found her father in the emergency waiting room, his shoulders hunched, his eyes empty. “Daddy,” she whispered, “what happened?”
“I...don’t know. We were working in the yard when your mother called out to me. By the time I turned around she’d passed out. I was afraid for a moment that she was dead. I nearly panicked.”
Savannah sat in the seat beside him and reached for his hand.
“I forgot about you not liking hospitals,” her father said apologetically.
“It’s all right. I wouldn’t want to be anyplace else but here with you.”
“I’m scared, sweetheart, really scared.”
“I know.” Savannah was, too. “Have you talked to the doctors yet?”
He shook his head. “How long will it take? She’s been in there for over an hour.”
“Anytime now, I’m sure.” At the moment, Savannah wasn’t sure of anything, least of all how her father would cope without her mother if it turned out that something was seriously wrong....
“Mr. Charles.” The doctor approached them, his face revealing concern.
Automatically Savannah and her father got to their feet, bracing themselves for whatever he might say.
“Your wife’s suffered a stroke.”
* * *
In the past few weeks, Nash had made a habit of staying late at the office. He no longer liked spending time at the house. It’d been nearly a month since Savannah had been inside his home and he swore that whenever he walked inside, he caught a whiff of her perfume. He knew it was ridiculous, but he’d taken to placing air fresheners at strategic points.
His bed was also a problem. Savannah had left her imprint there, as well. When he woke in the morning, he could sense her presence. He could almost hear her breathing, feel her breath, her mouth scant inches from his own. It bothered him that a woman could have this powerful an effect on him.
She’d meant what she said about ending the relationship. Not that he’d expected to hear from her again. He hoped he would, but that was entirely different from expecting her to call.
More times than he cared to count, he’d resisted the urge to contact her. He’d considered sending flowers with a humorous note, something to break the ice, to salvage his pride and hers, then decided against it.
She’d made herself clear and he had no option but to abide by her wishes. She didn’t want to see him again. So she wouldn’t. The next move, if there was one, would have to be hers.
As for that absurd proposal of marriage... Seldom had he regretted anything more. It embarrassed him to think about it, so he avoided doing so whenever possible.
Someone knocked softly on his office door. He checked his watch, surprised to discover he wasn’t alone at 10:00 p.m.
“Come in.”
The door opened and Savannah stood there. She was pale, her features ashen, her eyes red-rimmed as if she’d recently been crying.
“Savannah,” he said, hurrying around his desk. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t reach for her, much as he wanted to, not knowing if she’d welcome his touch.
“I’ve come,” she said in a voice that was devoid of emotion, “to tell you I’ve reconsidered. I’ll accept your offer of a marriage of convenience.... That is, if it’s still open.”