At Any Price. Margaret Allison

be as they once were between them, his promise was an empty one. Their friendship was all but over.

      With Jack in Europe and her father gone, Katie had relied more than ever on her old friend Matt. Everyone had assumed she and Matt were a couple long before it had occurred to Katie. She had just never seen Matt that way. But when her mother became ill and jumped on the bandwagon, as well, Katie had forced herself to see him as a potential candidate for romance.

      Still, Katie held out for Jack. Then one day Matt informed her that Jack was the one who had encouraged him to ask her out in the first place. Matt told her that Jack had always known the two of them were meant for each other. That Jack had even encouraged him to marry her.

      Katie had been stunned. But then she thought back to the day at the creek, and it all seemed to make sense. Jack had never loved her. If he had, he wouldn’t have left.

      As Katie recalled those days so long ago, she poured herself a cup of coffee and curled up on the living-room couch. She remembered that when she had decided to marry Matt, she’d told herself she was making a wise decision. She would be with her friend, her best friend, the remainder of her life. It was the only way to assure that he wouldn’t leave her, too, that she wouldn’t suffer another heartbreak.

      But, of course, she had. Marriage was no insurance against pain.

      Theirs had lasted only six years. She had cut him free, just as he had wished. Not only had she given him his freedom, she had forgiven him.

      She realized that she had not extended the same courtesy to Jack. As much as she tried, her heart had never let him go. She had hung on to her feelings like a sole survivor on a sinking ship. She needed to let him go, finally and forever.

      She was embarrassed by her behavior the previous evening. Jack had come to Newport Falls to try to help her, yet she had returned his kindness by behaving like a spurned lover.

      Katie set down her coffee. She was thankful to have another day with her old friend. She would apologize to Jack and make it up to him. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was almost eight. Jack said he had some business to take care of before heading to the office. And she knew just where to find him.

      Jack walked through the arched gates of the cemetery, carrying three bouquets of red roses. The temperature had dropped sharply and the rain had turned to snow. Several inches were already on the ground. Jack glanced around, admiring the familiar landscape. The cemetery seemed to be the only place in Newport Falls that was just as he remembered. Beautiful, yet desolate.

      He stepped over the withered, barren rosebushes and made his way over to where his father was buried. Jack had been here several times to pay respects, though the visits were never pleasant. It wasn’t just his father’s death that saddened him, but his life. His father had been an alcoholic for as long as Jack could remember. His life had been a graveyard of missed opportunities.

      Jack’s father had never recovered from the loss of the woman he loved so dearly. He tried at first, attempting to reclaim his sanity by dropping out of college and returning to Newport Falls. But even old friends couldn’t save him from the guilt. Stalked by invisible demons, he found solace only in alcohol. Jack couldn’t remember a time when his father was employed. Nor could he remember his father ever showing any tenderness toward him. Jack had grown up fast, forced to fend not only for himself, but many times, for his father, as well. Jack had been determined to make the town proud of him, determined that his fate would be different than his father’s. He wouldn’t allow himself to be destroyed by love. But it seemed the harder he tried to escape, the more furiously fate pursued him.

      When Katie had married Matt, Jack had found escape from his pain not through the bottle, but work. He went to Yale for his MBA. He was willing to work longer, harder than anyone else. And his determination paid off. In a business built on family contacts, Jack climbed his way up the ladder the old-fashioned way, rung by rung.

      Jack wished he had known his father better. He wished he could talk to him, tell him that he now understood the pain. He now understood why his father shut himself off from the world. Shut himself off from his only child.

      Jack placed one bouquet of red roses on his father’s grave and stood up, brushing the snow off his pants. But he wasn’t ready to leave. He walked toward the old oak tree where the Devonworths were buried.

      At first he had trouble finding their graves. The snow was falling faster now, sticking to the ground in fat, white clumps. But he persevered, brushing the snow off the tombstones until he found their matching white ones. Jack had known they would not have anything elaborate, anything that drew attention to the spot. They were plain, simple people in life, and he knew that was the way they wanted to be remembered.

      As Jack placed the remaining roses on their grave, he felt a rush of emotion. The Devonworths always stood behind him. No matter what was happening at home, he could always count on them for support. They had welcomed him into their home for meals and holidays, always treating him with love and respect.

      He would’ve liked to repay their kindness. To promise them that he would do his best to take care of their daughter. But it was too late for promises.

      He turned to leave. He had a terrible task to deal with today. On some level he had known from the moment Katie had asked him for money that his company could not invest. Yet he had convinced himself that perhaps things had changed, perhaps The Falls was not the simple paper he remembered. He’d been kidding himself, and instead of just leaving after his meetings yesterday, he had extended his visit. Why? Because of some lingering sentiment toward Katie. But he couldn’t help her. He doubted anyone could. It didn’t matter what reporters she had working for her. It didn’t matter how many awards they won or what syndicated columns Katie could pick up.

      A paper in a dying town was a losing investment.

      “Jack?”

      At first he thought he was imagining things. But there she was, underneath the cemetery’s arched gates. “Katie,” he breathed.

      She walked toward him. Snowflakes had attached to her long lashes. The ends of her red scarf, wrapped around her slender neck, blew sideways in the wind. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

      “I wanted to talk to you. Away from the office.”

      “But how did you know I’d be here?”

      “You haven’t been back in years. What other business could you possibly have?”

      He smiled. “Good work, detective.”

      He glanced at the entranceway, and his smile evaporated as he recognized Katie’s bike parked outside. The thought of her riding her bike five miles in a snowstorm was like an ice pick going through his heart. He asked, “What was so important that it couldn’t wait?”

      “I needed to apologize. You came back here to help me and I’ve had a chip on my shoulder ever since you arrived.”

      Once again Jack thought of her parents buried behind him. Katie had lost her parents, her husband, and was about to lose the only other thing that mattered to her—her paper. She had been dealing with this all alone because he had hung her out to dry. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

      “I’m sorry.” She looked at him and her eyes welled with tears. Instinct took over and he wrapped his arms around her. “Hey,” he said, “it’s me, Jack. There’s no need for apologies. I’m the one who owes you an apology.”

      She seemed so light, almost ethereal. He wanted to hold her and protect her from the world. Suddenly, he didn’t think he could ever let go.

      But Katie seemed to feel differently. She stiffened slightly, as if uncomfortable with his touch. He dropped his arms, and she stepped back from him.

      He couldn’t blame her. What kind of a friend had he been? “You have every reason to be angry with me.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I should’ve come back for your mother’s funeral. I’m sorry. And I should’ve called