“No longer?” Esther smiled. “So there’s a story. What happened?”
“A cougar and a gossip? Shame on you, Esther,” Cat teased, sighing to cover her grin. “I first met Hank last spring at Jackson’s house. He was so . . . I don’t know, easy to talk to. We flirted all night, but when he called later, I kind of blew him off to get back together with Justin. I’m ashamed of my rudeness, but at the time, I honestly believed Justin and I belonged together. As you know, he turned out to be terrible. Anyway, I burned my bridges with Hank. Since then, he’s politely distant, which is better than I deserve.”
“Sounds like you have regrets.” Esther’s perceptive eyes focused on Cat.
Cat sank deeper into her chair. “I doubt dating Hank would’ve worked out. He should be with someone sweeter and less cynical than me. It’s moot, anyway.”
“Why?”
Esther’s kindly gaze tempted Cat to share her medical condition, but she bit back the words. “Because Hank’s not interested in handing out second chances. Besides, I’m more concerned with reinventing my career than pining after a man.” Liar.
“Nonsense. Careers won’t bring the same happiness as love. And a willing heart can always give second chances.” Esther waved an arthritic finger at Cat. “You just convince him you’re worth it.”
“Then I’m doomed, because I can’t even convince myself.”
Hank might have been a simple man, but he had a dangerous way of looking at her—of seeing more than she wanted to share. Even if she could deal with that kind of scrutiny, her infertility required him to make a significant sacrifice he probably wouldn’t otherwise choose. Friendship would be the smartest, most honest relationship she could build with him.
Esther clucked. “Well, if I were you, I’d try before Amy or Jenny gets a firm hold of him.”
Cat whisked along the Merritt Parkway the following week in the yellow convertible Volkswagen she’d rented for the day. She could’ve taken the train to Connecticut, but the sunny summer day summoned a need to speed, with the wind in her hair, beneath a canopy of leafy tree limbs.
Her off-key voice was belting the tune on the radio when she turned into the gravel parking area at Jackson’s office in Wilton. Years ago he’d purchased an antique colonial situated on nearly two level acres, and converted the old barn on the property into an office from which he ran a lean, highly profitable operation.
Its pastoral setting—a stark contrast to the chaotic city—relaxed her. Having grown up in Wilton, the sights and sounds of the area automatically transported her back to the days when she and Vivi had followed Jackson and David around: Vivi out of adoration for David, and Cat out of interest in their friends. The memories—the fun of it all—made her smile.
Surveying the barn, Cat considered what Jackson had built for himself in a short time frame. Although not blessed with David’s genius IQ, his hard work and big personality were being well rewarded in the residential construction industry.
If he could succeed in business without David’s intellect, then maybe she could, too. Admittedly, she’d been unable to abandon the idea of promoting Hank’s furniture despite his apparent disinterest. Handcrafted furniture—no other model represented anything that unique. It appealed to her desire for distinction, and her high standards for quality. And the timing—seeing it right after talking to Elise about the future—couldn’t be mere coincidence.
Surely Hank could be persuaded to see the benefits of a partnership. His current obligations posed problems, but all problems had solutions. If she could solve Hank’s, maybe she could convince him to reconsider her idea.
At the moment, however, she’d settle for seeing the armoire designs. A twinge of guilt pinched her conscience, but she brushed it aside. Hank seemed concerned about money, so the high commission for this work should make him a little glad for her scheming.
Striding toward the barn, she noticed Hank’s mammoth pickup truck parked beside her brother’s Jeep. Her stomach fluttered.
Once inside, she stumbled midstride as she heard heated voices coming from Jackson’s office. She tiptoed closer to his office door, which was cracked open.
“I need you to finish the moldings in the Caine’s kitchen, Hank,” Jackson demanded.
“I thought you hired Doug to pick up the slack.” Hank sounded exasperated. “I can’t be everywhere at the same time.”
“Doug’s not as good as you. You know the Caines are nitpicky.”
“When the hell do you think I can squeeze that in? I’m already stretched too thin, and you roped me into working at Cat’s, too. I told you this would happen.”