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Two
Dottie didn’t come to the dinner table. When India stood to go in search of her, Farris shook his head, his expression bleak. “I’ll check on her later. This isn’t unusual.”
India sat down reluctantly. “What’s wrong with her, Farris? Tell me.”
For the first time, his facade cracked. India saw a grief-stricken son. He stared at her, his jaw working. “She’s in the final stages of congestive heart failure. The doctors give her six months to a year, maybe more, maybe less.”
Tears rolled down India’s cheeks. She swiped them away, her heart clenching. “Does she know?”
“I think so.” He rotated his head on his neck, wincing when tight muscles protested. “I didn’t catch the signs, and she never told me.”
“How long has she been here with you?”
“Since Thanksgiving. Until this past fall, she and I spent most of our time in New York. My business is still there, of course. And you remember my mother’s Park Avenue apartment. She loves Broadway and the museums, as always. But without me noticing, she began staying home more and more. When I asked if she would like to come here for the holidays this year, she said yes.”
“How did you find out what was wrong with her?”
“Her physician is one of my best friends. One evening, I was telling him how worried I was about her, and he...well, he...”
“Breached doctor-patient confidentiality?”
“Yes. But don’t think ill of him. My name is on all her paperwork. Technically, he wasn’t terribly out of line.”
“I’m glad he told you,” India said. “Is there anything we can do for her?”
“Not really. My kitchen staff has guidelines about what foods to cook and not cook. There’s the salt thing, of course. So the menu has adapted.”
India was quiet for a moment. Farris had never been completely open and forthcoming about his feelings while they were married. But surely with his mother... She frowned. “Why haven’t you just talked to her about it honestly?”
His jaw did that granite thing she hated. “Not all the world’s problems can be solved with a conversation, India.” The bite in the words told her to back off.
She inhaled sharply and reminded herself that arguing with Farris was not going to help Dottie. Before she could frame a response, the capable housekeeper brought in the first course of dinner. The woman was stout and pleasant, a native of the area. She was new apparently, not the same person India remembered from years ago.
India was glad. It was awkward enough that Dottie knew the history.
Over pan-seared native trout, spinach salad and fingerling potatoes, India tried valiantly to keep up the conversation. When she’d agreed to this arrangement, she’d never dreamed that she would find herself alone with her ex-husband.
Fortunately, Farris’s employee was in and out, refilling wine and water glasses, bringing hot rolls, removing plates.
In between, Farris concentrated on his meal. He answered India’s questions with the fewest words possible. Finally, she gave up.
How could she have done anything differently five years ago? She hadn’t wanted the divorce. Her threat had been a last-ditch effort to get Farris to open up to her.
As a ploy, it had failed miserably.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye, her throat tight with regret. Again, the memories came in a flood, tightening her chest and stealing her appetite. She had been a very young twenty-one when she and Farris first met. India had been enjoying a warm spring afternoon with friends in Central Park.
Only weeks away from graduation at a nondescript community college, India had been a little anxious about her uncertain future, but on that particular day, she’d been having fun. Farris, the very serious businessman, was striding along the path, when India backed up and ran into him. The collision sent her feet out from under her. She hit the ground, winded. When Farris crouched over her, his expression concerned, she had felt a jolt of something far more than physical attraction.
That initial meeting turned into a series of dinners...fancy dinners—all at expensive New York restaurants. India’s friends had urged caution, but it was far too late for common sense. India fell hard for Farris.
Honestly, she had assumed he was playing with her, amusing himself with her innocence and naivete. But he continued to ask her out, and she continued to say yes. During the summer, he complained when she took a minimum-wage job at a local ad agency. She was little more than a gofer, but it was her first grown-up employment, and she took it very seriously.
When Farris was free, he wanted her to be free, too. India, though, followed her own gut instincts. She might be poor compared to Farris Quinn, but she was not going to be seduced by his money.
It was three months before she slept with him. By Thanksgiving, he had proposed, and by Christmas, they were married.
Even now, she wondered why he had pursued her. That wasn’t false modesty. She knew she was attractive, but Farris had power and money and a thoroughly male charisma that drew women wherever they went. He could have had his pick.
