A Mum For Amy. Ann Evans

Coastal’s the only outfit in the state that could handle a job that big.” She sat up straighter suddenly. “Wait a minute! Susan said he was holding a press conference today. You know what that means?”

      “Media coverage.”

      Maggie nodded. “Whatever decisions have been made could be on the Miami paper’s Web site by tonight.”

      Zack headed back to his workshop and Maggie spent the rest of the day watching the clock. By six that evening she could check the Internet. LaCrosse’s press conference probably wouldn’t divulge who’d gotten the green light for the resort aquariums—too small a job in the grand scheme of things—but Maggie was hoping for something, anything that might tell her what to expect from Teddy’s conversation with her tomorrow.

      By the time she closed the office, the first streaks of a pink and purple sunset were sifting over the palms that lined the short driveway to Sapphire Seas. Back at her desk, she paged through the top news stories of the day on her computer. It took very little time to find what she was looking for, and when she did, Maggie’s mouth parted in surprise. Then absolute, flat-out shock. She settled back in her chair, staring at the screen and feeling nothing but…numb.

      Zack came into the office. “Find out anything, Sherlock?”

      Maggie jerked her chin toward the monitor. “Take a look.”

      There was a good-sized picture of Teddy LaCrosse smiling out at them from behind a podium. Although he was backed by a wall of three-piece-suit types, he wore a Hawaiian shirt and his hair clearly hadn’t been trimmed since the last time Maggie had seen him.

      Zack quickly scanned the article below the picture, then looked at Maggie. “It doesn’t say anything about specific contractors. Nothing to indicate we lost out.”

      “We’re not getting the job, Zack.”

      “How do you know that?”

      Maggie ran a finger gingerly across the screen, then let her fingertip rest on one of the men standing behind and to the left of Teddy. Oh God, she still couldn’t believe it.

      Zack frowned. “Who’s the bean counter?”

      Maggie hardly heard him. She couldn’t take her eyes off the man’s face. Could barely allow her finger to make contact with the image, as though it might burn her right through the glass. “He’s not a bean counter,” she said. “He’s Teddy LaCrosse’s chief architect. From Jacobson and Duquette Associates. His name is Will Stewart.”

      “Will Stewart,” Zack repeated thoughtfully. “Why do I know that name? Will—” He shot a quick glance her way. “Your Will Stewart? The guy who—”

      “One and the same.”

      Zack blew air through his lips. “Oh, damn. You think he advised LaCrosse to go with another company because you two—”

      “I think advised might be too polite a word. You know architects work closely with all the contractors. If he found out I was behind the Sapphire Seas bid, I’ll bet he threw a fit at the thought of coming within a hundred miles of me.”

      “Are you going to ask LaCrosse when you talk to him tomorrow?”

      Maggie moved suddenly, snapping off the computer. She rose, pulled her purse out of the bottom drawer of the desk and grabbed her car keys. “Nope. I’m going to find out right now. Tonight.”

      IN THE END, Maggie didn’t make the four-hour drive up to Miami that evening. Even if she’d known where to find Teddy LaCrosse, tracking him down, forcing him into a midnight conversation, would look unprofessional and probably wouldn’t win her any points. She’d spent years trying to get a handle on her impulsive nature. No sense letting her emotions get the best of her now.

      But early the next morning, as she drove up the long stretch of US-1 that connected the mainland to the Keys, it wasn’t how to win over Teddy that ate at her nerves.

      It was the thought of Will Stewart.

      All Maggie could think about was how her gut had kicked to see his face again.

      Eight years seemed like a long time, and yet she could recall every detail of that bright spring afternoon as though it had happened yesterday. Huckabee’s arrest. Lisa, white-faced and trembling as they sat together at the police station. Someone handing Maggie a cup of coffee that spilled and burned her fingers because she, too, was shaking so badly.

      Most of all, she remembered Will striding into the detective’s office, rigid with anger and fear. He had pulled his sister into a hug so tight that Maggie imagined she could hear bones creak. She felt as if she were in a dream, the kind where a person can only watch, not move or speak. She saw Will enfold Lisa, saw his head bending. It almost made her weep to witness the exquisite tenderness with which his fingers traced her face as he crooned comfort to her.

      “What the hell happened?” he had demanded at last, and even his voice was white-hot.

      Oh, those words. In the pit of Maggie’s stomach, something twisted even tighter. He hadn’t addressed the detective. He swung to face her, fixing her with a stare that would have scattered some men like petals on the wind. Right then, in that moment, she knew it was over between them. She felt as though some support in the pit of her stomach had been abruptly ripped away.

      It took a little while, of course. There were charges to be filed and court appearances to make. It could have been worse, she supposed. Huckabee turned out to be a repeat offender. His attorney tried to persuade him to throw himself on the mercy of the court. Instead, thinking money could fix almost anything, the fool made the mistake of attempting to bribe the judge. He found himself in jail in record time.

      Lisa weathered all of it surprisingly well, thank God. After three sessions with a child psychologist who pronounced her very resilient, she seemed none the worse for what had happened.

      But for Will and Maggie…there was no hope.

      It was clear that Will held her responsible for everything. He didn’t say it. At least, not at first. But their time together took on a new unnatural formality, a masquerade performance for Lisa’s benefit. Words between them marched and maneuvered like tense soldiers. When Maggie tried to find a way to make it right again, she was met only with Will’s cast-iron composure, so that eventually, she, too, was forced to take refuge in blank-faced complacency.

      And then one night a month after the incident, everything just erupted. They opened a door between them that was impossible to shut. The argument was quick, hot and horrible. They stepped on each other’s sentences without waiting for responses. Will’s dark, fenced-in manner gave way to harsh accusations, until Maggie felt bludgeoned and desperate and the healthy instincts of self-defense rose up in her.

      But his anger was fully unleashed at last, and he would hear no explanations, no excuses. They were like stars separated by unimaginable distances and would never see eye to eye. Her impulsive, immature behavior had put Lisa in danger. Maggie was the adult. She should not have given in to his sister that day, knowing how he felt.

      In the end, every nugget of hope was extracted from their relationship, and there was nothing left to do but finish it. Nothing in her life had been easier than loving Will, and nothing about leaving him could have been harder. They traded one last, searing look. Operating on numb disbelief and adrenaline, Maggie walked out of Will’s house and did not glance back.

      She went home, weighed down with a misery she could barely comprehend. Deep inside where it counted, she felt withered and betrayed. Grief made her unapproachable for days. She stayed in her room over the objections of her parents, who begged her to come out. She cried a flood of tears, got angry and resentful all over again, then wept into her pillow for hours. It had been unbearable to be nineteen and heartbroken, and when Maggie finally did emerge, she had thought she would never be the same again.

      She was right.

      A week after that final argument, she learned she was pregnant with Will’s child.

      The