A knock sounded on the door, and Stephanie motioned toward the front of the house. “That would be Frank. You want me to stay here tonight and keep you company?”
He summoned up a smile. “No reason two romantic evenings should be ruined. Go. Have fun. I’ll give Dad a call, finish the thriller I picked up at the airport for the trip home, and make it an early night.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Another knock rattled the door, and he shooed her toward it. “He seems anxious. Go ahead and answer.”
After a brief hesitation, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” She picked up her sweater from the island, rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and disappeared down the hall. After a short, muffled exchange, the front door clicked shut as they headed out for their dinner date.
Leaving him alone to face the whole lonely, empty evening that stretched ahead.
After expelling a breath, he put the hamper back on the counter and began unpacking the contents. Surely if he applied a hefty dose of brainpower to the logistics of arranging a clandestine picnic, he could come up with a solution that would placate Katherine.
But the plan he formulated during the long evening and the longer, restless night came to naught.
Because at some point in the early hours of the morning, Katherine left.
He made that discovery after the fact, as the first pale light of dawn began to seep around the drapes in his room.
Finally giving up on sleep, he swung his legs to the floor, reached for his cell on the nightstand—and found an email from her waiting for him.
Zach—Please don’t be mad, but I can’t in good conscience stay here any longer with paparazzi on my tail. Sorry as I am to leave without an in-person farewell—and our picnic on the beach—there’s nowhere safe for us to get together . . . and if we talk again, I’m afraid you’ll convince me to attempt a rendezvous. So I left with Simon early this morning.
I promise to stay in touch every day during the shooting, by phone and text and email—to the point you may get tired of hearing from me. (I hope not.) Please know that you’ll be constantly in my thoughts—as I hope I’ll be in yours. Until we meet again . . .
Your Katherine
P.S. I finished the truffles for the Hope House benefit in the wee hours. You’ll find them on the island in my kitchen. The house key is under the pot of flowers on the deck.
Gut twisting, Zach forked his fingers through his hair and stared at the screen.
Hard as he tried to be mad, he couldn’t summon up one ounce of anger. Walking out without a good-bye had to have been as hard on Katherine as it was on him.
And you had to admire a woman who did what she believed was best for someone she cared about, despite the cost to herself.
Zach pushed himself to his feet and crossed to the window. Moved the drapes aside.
From here, the house next door wasn’t visible through the needle-bedecked boughs of the trees.
But it was there.
Just like Katherine would remain in his heart during the weeks ahead, even if he couldn’t see her.
Lifting his cell again, he tapped in a response.
I’m not mad . . . and I’ll never get tired of hearing from you. As for you being in my thoughts—goes without saying. Will miss you at the Hope House benefit.
And so she’d know he’d caught the significance of her sign-off, he ended his email the same.
Your Zach
Then he geared up for the day at The Perfect Blend.
Because at this stage of the game, with the woman who was fast claiming his heart far away from Hope Harbor and once again immersed in the glamor and fast-paced life of Hollywood, the outcome of their relationship was in the hands of a power far greater than either of them.
28
“The turkey smells divine, Zach.” Stephanie entered the house on a gust of chilly air and gave an appreciative sniff. “Happy Thanksgiving.” She handed him a casserole dish, shed her jacket, and slid her damp umbrella into the stand by the door.
“The same to you.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Where’s Frank?”
“Running an errand. He’ll be along soon. Is your dad in the great room?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll go say hello—and take advantage of the fireplace. You do have a fire going, don’t you?”
“Wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without one. Let me put this in the fridge”—he hefted the casserole—“and I’ll join you in a minute. Can I bring you a drink?”
“I’ll help myself to one after I warm up, thanks.”
As she continued toward the back of the house, Zach detoured to the kitchen and slid her sweet potato casserole into the refrigerator, then pulled out his cell and scanned the screen.
Nothing more from Katherine since a text at dawn—all he had to console himself on this holiday they’d planned to spend together, until the location shooting schedule in Texas had been delayed by rain and the studio honchos had decided to forge ahead and try to regain the lost ground. From what Katherine had said, they’d planned to film until last night.
He reread her brief message, sent at the crack of dawn.
Zach—Missing you. This isn’t where I want to be for the holiday. Will be in touch later.
Your Katherine
At least she’d promised to call.
But after eleven weeks with only texts, emails, and phone calls to sustain him, having to forgo their much-anticipated reunion stunk.
“You joining us, Zach?” His father called out the question from the great room.
“I’ll be right there.”
Taking a deep breath, he did his best to banish his negativity. After all, he had much to be grateful for this day—including the fact that he was spending the holiday with all his remaining family members.
The reconciliation with his father alone ought to lift his spirits. It was nothing short of miraculous—as was his father’s attitude. Nervous as Zach had been about his dad’s reaction to his business and the life he’d created here, the older man had apparently come to terms with his elder son’s choices. He’d not only been interested in exploring the town and visiting The Perfect Blend since his arrival on Tuesday, he’d been complimentary about both.
To buy himself another few seconds to fire up his enthusiasm, Zach crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out a soda.
Having Katherine here as he gave thanks for all the blessings his move to Hope Harbor had brought would have made the day perfect—but if their relationship continued to progress, they’d be spending future holidays together. Christmas wasn’t far off, and the location shooting would be over. The studio filming should conclude by the end of January.
Then she’d be free.
And from all indications, she was sticking to her plan to exit the movie world after this film.
She hadn’t yet decided what she wanted to do instead, but as far as he was concerned, she could take as long as she needed to figure that out.
And what more perfect place to do that than in Hope Harbor?
A case he intended to argue during their next in-person visit—or sooner.
Swigging his soda, he left the kitchen and strolled toward the living room, where his dad and aunt were sitting side by side on the couch in front of the fireplace.