“It is.” After a moment’s hesitation, she spoke again, saying the only thing she could. “Would you like to go with me? I could introduce you to some of the other expats, show you around a bit…”
He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Tell me where you live and what time to pick you up.”
BY SATURDAY EVENING, Emma had begun to ask herself just what she’d been thinking when she’d invited Raul to attend the party with her. Reina would see them and she’d give Emma a hard time later. William Kelman obviously had a problem with him, too. To top things off, Leon Davis had practically insisted the man was a felon. She’d known all this and she’d invited him, anyway.
As she pulled one of her endless black dresses from the closet, Emma tried to analyze what was going on, but she couldn’t come up with an answer. Sure, she found him attractive, but she hardly knew him, for God’s sake, and most probably shouldn’t let it go any further. Since her divorce, she’d made it a policy never to date anyone associated with her work. Actually she never dated at all. It wasn’t worth the effort, and besides, there were always questions, questions she didn’t want to hear or answer. But now she’d broken all her rules and asked out Raul Santos. It didn’t get any worse than that.
When he’d looked at her with those dark compelling eyes and handed over those freesias, she hadn’t had a chance. Touched by his thoughtfulness, she had reminded herself that, in South America, it wasn’t unusual for someone to show up with a small gift for no reason-a box of candy, a bouquet, a book. She’d received them before, so why the reaction?
Because she owed him, she told herself. She was embarrassed by her slipup with his account, and the truth was, he deserved an extra courtesy. If he wanted to go to a boring charity event with her, why not? Since asking him, she’d had more than one sleepless night to ponder the situation, but now, as it came down to the wire, she wondered if she was rationalizing her behavior.
Either way, the man would be on her doorstep in fifteen minutes, and she had to get dressed. She slipped off her robe and stepped into the black sheath, then her phone rang.
She picked up the receiver and Todd’s voice sounded so clearly over the line he could have been in the next room. Her heart almost stopped. In all the time they’d been divorced, he’d never called. Not once. She immediately thought the worst.
“Todd! Is everything okay? Are the children-”
“They’re fine.” His words were clipped and businesslike, but his rich Louisiana accent was thick as ever beneath the coldness. To her, a poor kid from the bayou, his way of speaking had represented class and sophistication. He’d wooed her with that accent. She hadn’t heard the cruelty in it until it was too late. “They’re just fine,” he repeated.
Relieved by his answer, she sat down on the edge of her bed, the mattress sagging. He spoke again. “That’s not why I’m calling. I’ve got something else to tell you.”
“All right.” Her tone was wary. “What is it?”
“I’m getting married again. I thought you should know.”
She had no love for this man, none whatsoever, but the knife he’d buried in her heart two years ago twisted once more. Now her children would have a new mother. They’d forget all about her. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“Did you hear me, Emma Lou?”
He’d told her once that only poor people had two first names, and after they’d married, he’d refused to call her what everyone else did, shortening her name to Emma. Unless he wanted to make her feel like the miserable girl from the wrong side of the tracks whom he’d mistakenly married.
“I heard you,” she said quietly.
“The proper response to the groom is ‘Congratulations.”’
His correction was so typical she couldn’t stop herself. “I think ‘My condolences’ might be more appropriate-at least for the new bride.”
He made a sound of disgust. “Always with the smart answer, huh? My mother was right when she said breeding was everything.”
Emma closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again as she spoke. If she agitated him, the conversation would only get worse. “Who is she, Todd?”
“You don’t know her.” His words held as much disdain as ever. “She’s a Threadgill from Charleston. Her people go way back.”
“Do the children like her?”
“The children adore her.” He took the handle of the knife and pushed it deeper into her heart.
“They’re already calling her mama, and they can’t wait for the wedding. Sarah’s going to be the flower girl and Jake’s carrying the ring. We’re getting him a tux.”
“How…wonderful.” She felt faint.
“I thought you should know what was going on,” he said. “In case the kids said something when you called on Sunday. They’re both excited about it, and I didn’t want it to be a shock or anything to you.”
She lay down on the bed, the phone still at her ear. “I understand.”
“This won’t change the custody situation,” he warned. “Don’t even think about calling the judge.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She told the truth; the judge had been in the family’s pocket for a hundred years. Until she found a lawyer more powerful than any of them, the judge would never rule against the Toussaints.
“All right, then. Just so everything’s clear.” He paused, his cruel work done, his drawl now more pronounced. “You doin’ all right down there, Emma Lou? How’s business at your bank?”
He didn’t give a damn about her business, and both of them knew it. In fact, he’d done all he could to keep her from finding a job, period. Bolivia had been her last resort. He was gloating.
Emma ignored his question. She couldn’t hang up without hearing about her children, though. She’d talk to them tomorrow, but she couldn’t be this close without hearing more. She hated herself for doing it, but she begged, anyway. “Tell me about the children, Todd. Please.”
She’d been a good girl, she knew, so he softened. She could picture him leaning back in his chair and swiveling it to look out the window of his study. She knew that was what he’d done, because she could hear the chair groan, then squeak. She knew what he was looking at, too. The backyard with the pool and the swing and the magnolia trees so perfectly trimmed.
His voice turned expansive. “Sarah’s been givin’ us hell this week. She’s definitely in the terrible twos and goin’ on to the intolerable threes. She tried to paint a picture for my mother, which would have been okay, but she used Sparky for a brush and a wall for the canvas. Took Nana three days to get the place repainted, and the damned dog still has a pink tail. Can’t even take him huntin’.”
“And Jake?”
“He had soccer tryouts this week. Did great. Loves the academy, but I guess you know all ’bout that.”
Her son had had his first day of school in September, and the Sunday before he’d gone had been one of the hardest calls for Emma to get through. He’d been so excited. She’d had to hide her tears.
“How did his math test go?”
“He got an A.” Todd paused, then, “He still likes his reading best, though. His teacher called me Monday and said she’d had to fuss at him for readin’ in class and not payin’ attention. Seems like he always has his nose in a book-just like you used to.”
Emma couldn’t reply. Her throat had closed. For just one heartbeat, she let the pure feeling of misery engulf her, then she fought it. She wouldn’t give Todd the satisfaction of knowing how deeply his words ripped into her. “That’s good to hear,” she said thickly. “I’m glad he’s enjoying his schoolwork. He doesn’t always tell me much about it.”
“Yeah, well…” Todd said. “You take care now, and the children will be talkin’ to you tomorrow.”
She stayed on the bed for another few seconds with the phone still in her hand and the line buzzing in her ear. She hoped the connection was still there. The wasted long-distance time would cost Todd at least some of his precious dollars and the adorable Miss Threadgill-she had to be adorable, of course-some future earnings, as well.