Shane’s breath leaked out. He nodded.
“My mom was a vice president at Ezron Savings and Loan. They both wanted me to follow in their footsteps. They helped me take the best courses in college.”
“Your dad got you the job.”
“No.” Her chin jutted. “I got the job on my own. I wanted to make him proud. And he was. I wanted to make them both proud. And now they’re gone, I feel like I have a mission—to go as high in the bank as I can. I may not ever be CEO, but I have a career plan at Palladium. I’m going to do it. I’m going to get back on track, and I’m still going to do it. I have to.”
He nodded slowly, turning her words over in his head. That explained quite a bit. Her determination and dedication to her career. He got it. For some reason, it kinda made him feel depressed. But he got it. There were things that mattered that much to him, too, including his own career.
“You will,” he agreed and forced a smile. “You are smart and strong, Keara. You’ll do it and it’ll be fine.”
“Thanks.” Her hesitant smile made his heart squeeze.
After lunch, they emerged back out into bright spring sunshine and both slid sunglasses on.
“Let’s wander around, look in some of the shops,” Shane said, starting down the street, again taking her hand. This time her fingers curled into his warm and willing. “There are some nice places and wine-tasting rooms.”
“Sounds cool.”
They spent a while in one room where artists were painting, then tasted a few different wines. They browsed in a few interesting little shops and galleries, sat in the sunshine and ate ice cream, then started the drive to The Bridle Path Winery.
Tidy vineyards lined the narrow road to the winery, and the parking lot they arrived at was crowded. “This is a popular place,” Shane said.
“It’s stunning.” Keara took in the white stucco with typical clay tile roof, and they entered through a wide, vine-covered arch in the stucco wall. Potted palms and colorful flowers adorned the stone courtyard and a long, shaded veranda lined one long side. Water splashed in a fountain in the center of the courtyard and sparkled in the sun.
“This is a 2002 Pinot Noir,” they were told as they accepted a glass of ruby-red wine. They each swirled the glass, inhaled the aromas of cherry, raspberry and sweet vanilla-oak. “This wine has typical red fruit flavors, like raspberries, cranberries and cherries, with spice on the long finish. Big but balanced. If you like Pinot Noir, you should enjoy this one.”
Next they sampled a Syrah, with the taste of blackberry, smoky pipe tobacco, white pepper and oak. At the end of their tasting, Shane asked, “Which one did you like best?”
“Hmm. I think the Pinot Noir.”
And he bought a bottle of it and handed it to her. “Here. For you.”
“Thank you,” she said slowly, taking the bottle in both hands.
“Maybe you’ll share it with me some time.”
She tipped her head and smiled. “Maybe.”
A few days later, Keara was supervising the installation of the security system on the door. Maeve had opted for a key pad, and each person who had access would have their own code. It made Keara feel better about Maeve’s safety after she was gone.
And speaking of leaving… “Keara, a call for you.”
It was Stefanie, the disability case manager, calling to see how she was doing. She’d said she’d check on her this week.
“I’m feeling pretty good,” Keara said into the phone. But the thought of going back to work still caused the tight clenching of her gut. She’d finally confessed her fears out loud to Shane. It wasn’t just post-traumatic stress disorder from the hostage taking. Maybe that had been part of it, at first—having your life threatened like that would be enough to do it—but in addition to that, facing the mistakes she’d made in her management of the bank, the way she’d treated staff and her fear that she wouldn’t be able to make sound, rational business decisions still filled her with doubts. What if she went back and she couldn’t cut it anymore? Her job was her whole life.
She gripped the telephone.
“That’s wonderful,” Stefanie said brightly. “So what do you think about going back to work next week?”
“Next week?” Keara turned in a circle and stared into space. “Well, I still don’t have a car.”
“You know, I mentioned there are other ways to get you back to Los Angeles.”
“I know. I expect to hear from the insurance company this week. I could probably go ahead with getting a new vehicle.” She had to, sometime. There just didn’t seen any big rush there in Kilkenny, where she could walk a lot of places, and truthfully, she didn’t have many places to go.
“I just…I’m not sure,” she said.
Stefanie’s voice got firmer. “Keara. Unless we have something in writing from a medical professional—Dr. Cogan, for example—saying that you can’t work, we won’t be able to keep paying your benefits.”
The disability insurance company was depositing money into her account every two weeks. She hadn’t spent much since she’d been in Kilkenny. Her rent was paid for this month. She had savings and some investments—she was a finance person after all. She was smart with money. But the prospect of no income coming in was not exactly appealing. Great.
“Well then,” she said a bit stiffly. “I guess I really don’t have much choice.”
“Of course it’s your choice,” Stefanie said, back to cheery. “But you should know that the bank is getting anxious about you coming back. This costs them money too, and they’d rather have you back at work.”
“Of course.”
Money. It all came down to money. Now she was the number. She rolled her lips in and clenched her teeth. “I understand,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do about getting a car. I don’t think I can be back next week, but how about the Monday the week after?”
“That sounds wonderful! I’ll let them know that’s the plan.”
Keara clicked off the phone and stared blindly at it. She was going home.
“My mom wants me to bring you for dinner tomorrow,” Shane said. They lay in his bed Friday night, wrapped around each other as usual in a haze of postcoital satisfaction.
“Me and Maeve?”
“No. Just you.”
She looked at him. “Is it a party?”
He shook his head, and his eyes shifted away. “No. They just want to have you over.”
“Why?”
“Because…we’ve been…uh…”
“Having sex?” Her dry tone grated on him and he frowned.
“No. Well yes, but…they think we’re seeing each other.”
She laughed, a short, tight laugh. “Don’t they know you’re just helping me out?”
“Uh…haven’t discussed that with them, actually. And I’m sure you don’t want me to.”
“I guess not.” She eyed him warily. “But it’s probably not a good idea for them to think there’s more between us than there is.”
Shane’s stomach tightened. He took a deep breath. “Maybe there could be.”
She blinked at him. “Like what?”
“Like…” Christ, this was hard. Sweat prickled his underarms and his heart thudded. “Keara, I…really like you.”
She smiled. “Thanks. I like you too.”
He closed his eyes, felt like he was jumping out of a speeding cop car on a high-speed chase. “Keara. I think I’m falling in love with you.”
She stared at him for a long, fraught moment. Then she rolled away from him and off the bed, reaching for his shirt on the chair and dragging it on. She wrapped it around herself, holding it with her arms. He watched her, dismay sliding through him in hot shivers.