The Edge of Eternity. Amanda Stevens

brokerage firm had been instrumental in putting the deal together for the owners. On his recommendation, Frankie Loves Johnny—Elizabeth and Frankie’s boutique—had landed the contract to design most of the staff uniforms. It wasn’t couture, but the deal had been financially lucrative and had helped the shop regain its financial footing after an arrangement with a major retailer had drained much of their operating capital. That, and the loan from Paul, of course.

      Elizabeth slit open the envelope and extracted the brochure and invitation inside.

      You are cordially invited for a weekend of rejuvenation at the Fernhaven Hotel…a heavenly retreat deep in the heart of the Cascade Mountains…

      The invitation went on to explain that, in appreciation of their contribution to Fernhaven, she and Paul would be pampered guests at a preopening celebration. The official opening was still some weeks away, so the complimentary weekend would be a dry run for the staff.

      Elizabeth set aside the invitation and picked up the brochure. She’d seen pictures of the old hotel—it had burned down over seventy years ago—along with photos of the staff and some of the guests. Her designs had been inspired by the original uniforms, much as the architecture of the new hotel, with its gray facade and spired roofline, had been modeled after the first one.

      Nestled deep within one of the Pacific Northwest’s magnificent rain forests, Fernhaven wore a mantle of mystery, due in part to its tragic history, but also because of its isolation. Even the deeply shaded grounds looked foreboding, and yet there was also something appealing about the place. Something that seemed to beckon even from the photograph…

      The back of her neck tingled in that all-too-familiar manner, and Elizabeth spun toward the balcony doors, the brochure drifting from her fingers. She caught her breath. For one split second she could have sworn someone was on the balcony staring in at her.

      Her hand flew to her heart. The figure on the balcony did the same, and then Elizabeth realized that she was seeing her own reflection in the glass.

      Laughing nervously, she put away the mail and went into the kitchen to grill the salmon and prepare a salad.

      By seven-thirty they had sat down to eat. Paul had gotten home early and changed from his suit into jeans and a black V-neck sweater that she’d given him for his birthday a couple of years ago. Elizabeth wondered if he’d selected it for any particular reason, but then decided that her own anxiety was making her read too much into his actions. He’d always said the sweater was one of his favorites.

      They made small, meaningless talk during the meal, and when they were finished, Paul got up and went into the kitchen to grab the bottle of wine. Replenishing both their glasses, he sat back down.

      “That was an excellent meal, Elizabeth. You haven’t lost your touch.”

      “Thanks. It’s like riding a bike, I guess.” She picked up her wineglass, took a sip and choked a little.

      “Are you all right?”

      “I’m…fine…” She trailed off nervously and returned her glass to the table.

      “So what did you want to talk to me about?” Paul’s eyes gleamed darkly in the candlelight, and for a moment Elizabeth couldn’t tear her gaze away. “Elizabeth?”

      She moistened her lips. “I want to talk about…us. Our…arrangement.” She hesitated. “It’s not working, Paul. For either of us.”

      “Arrangement?” He frowned. “Do you mean our marriage?”

      “Yes.” She drew a breath. “I want a divorce.”

      “A divorce,” he repeated in a voice she’d never heard him use before. She couldn’t quite figure out what it meant.

      She sucked in another breath. “Our marriage isn’t working, and it hasn’t been for a long time. What we once had…is gone. We can’t get it back. It’s no one’s fault. We just have to accept it.”

      “As easy as that.”

      “Nothing about this is easy,” she said on a whisper. “But I can’t go on this way. It’s too painful. I’d rather…it would better for both of us if we just…made a clean break.”

      “So you not only want a divorce, you also want a clean break. How do you plan to accomplish that?” His gaze deepened as he stared at her over the candlelight.

      “I’m thinking of moving back to Chicago,” she said.

      One brow lifted slightly. “Really? And what does your business partner have to say about your plans? Or haven’t you told her yet?”

      “We’ve discussed it briefly.” Elizabeth paused. “Nothing’s definite. I haven’t made any firm decisions. All I know is that—”

      “You want a divorce.”

      “Yes.” When he said nothing else, Elizabeth glanced at him. “Surely you don’t want to go on like this either. If you were free, you could start a new life. You could find someone else. Maybe…you already have,” she said hesitantly.

      If possible, his expression grew even darker. “Just what are you implying, Elizabeth?”

      She couldn’t do it after all, Elizabeth discovered. She couldn’t confront him with what she’d seen earlier that day. Because she didn’t want to see the truth in his eyes, she supposed.

      But she couldn’t hide from the image. It came back to her now, and she had to swallow back a wave of panic. Paul and another woman…

      She closed her eyes for a moment, willing away the image. “I’m not implying anything. I just thought that if you were free, you might meet someone else. Someone who could be the kind of wife to you that you need.”

      “Please don’t presume to know what I need.” He scooted back his chair and stood abruptly. It was the first time he’d shown any emotion during the conversation, and his anger seemed to take him by surprise. He strode into the kitchen for a moment, and when he came back out, he had his feelings firmly under control. His expression was a mask of indifference as he stood behind his chair, gazing down at her. “Just answer one question for me.”

      “Of course. If I can.”

      “Do you still love me?”

      The question caught Elizabeth off guard and hit her like a fist to her solar plexus. Breathless, she glanced down at her laced fingers. She couldn’t look at Paul when she answered. “I’ll always love you. But it isn’t enough anymore.”

      “That’s such a cliché,” he said bitterly.

      And now it was Elizabeth who felt a quick stab of anger. “It’s a cliché because it happens to be the truth! I do love you, Paul, but I’m not…I can’t be married to you anymore. It hurts too much. Every time I look at you…” She trailed off and put a trembling hand to her mouth.

      “You see our son.”

      She nodded. “And every time you look at me, you must think of the accident. You have to ask yourself over and over why I chose that moment to take my eyes off the road.”

      “You’re wrong.” He clenched his fists at his sides. “I’ve never blamed you for what happened. No one was at fault except the drunken bastard who decided to get behind the wheel of his car that day.”

      “But if I hadn’t looked away—”

      “Elizabeth, don’t. We can’t change the past.”

      “I know that. But we can change the future. We can try to salvage something of our lives. You deserve to be happy, Paul. We both do.”

      “And you think a divorce will make us happy?”

      Elizabeth shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know. All I do know is that I can’t go on like this.”

      He turned away for a moment, running his hand through his dark