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“Oh, no, it took a lot of convincing,” she said, swallowing a smile as she remembered how Zane had fireman-carried her into the lodge. “A lot of convincing.”
“For God’s sake, why did you agree to have dinner with him in the first place?”
“It was part of the deal.”
“The deal?” he repeated, shaking his head. He rolled his eyes and tossed his hands up. “So now she’s making deals with her ex-husband! Kaylie, do you know that the press has us practically married?”
“We discussed this. It’s a dead issue.”
“I know, I know. But…well, I thought we could let it ride awhile. What could it hurt? But you running off with Flannery, well, that about kills it.”
“Good!”
Alan left a few minutes later, and Kaylie marched into Jim Crowley’s office to tell him the abbreviated truth. Jim took the news in stride. He wasn’t happy, of course, and he warned her to “call next time—about ten days before you plan to leave.” But she left his office with her pride and her job intact.
* * *
Hours later, she returned to her apartment. Zane was long gone, but the scent of him still lingered in the air. The bed was made, but she couldn’t resist taking a pillow and breathing deeply. The feathers still smelled of his aftershave. “Oh, Melville, you’ve got it bad,” she chided, still clutching the pillow as she fell back on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Real bad!”
Realizing that she sounded like an adolescent in the throes of puppy love, she tossed the pillow aside and walked into the kitchen.
The red light on the answering machine was blinking, and she played back the messages only to hear Zane’s voice, as if he were there.
“I guess I’m hung up here at the office awhile,” he said with a sigh. “So I won’t be over.”
“Too bad,” she murmured, though she did feel a jab of disappointment.
“But I’ll call you later and I’ll see you soon.”
He hung up, and she listened to a couple more messages—one from Margot begging her to call and another from an insurance salesman.
After popping a dinner into the microwave, she dialed Margot’s number.
“Hello?”
“I should tar and feather you,” Kaylie announced.
“I guess you talked to Alan.”
“Screamed would be the appropriate word.”
“I know I shouldn’t have said a word to him, but he had the nerve to call here asking about you, and I just had to set him in his place. If you ask me, that guy’s got a screw loose.”
“Alan?” Kaylie laughed.
“I’m not kidding. I bet he’s the one that gave all those papers the idea you two were engaged. Anyway, I couldn’t resist hinting around about Zane. He deserved it.”
Kaylie couldn’t stay angry with Margot for long. “It’s okay, I guess. I was tired of talking about this fictitious Aunt Brenda and I told Jim the whole story—well, most of it. Fortunately I still have my job.”
The microwave beeped, and as they talked, Kaylie pulled out her dinner—a pathetic-looking concoction of chicken, peas and potatoes—while Margot asked about Zane.
“He’s not here,” Kaylie said, nearly burning her fingers as she opened the plastic cover.
“No?” Margot sounded worried.
“He does have his own life.”
“I know but—”
