His Best Friend's Wife Read online

  She had changed. At first, he hadn’t even been certain the woman behind the reception desk really was Renae. But when she’d looked at him straight on and he’d seen her eyes, there had been no doubt.

  Though she had been polite enough, he couldn’t say she had been particularly warm in greeting him. He supposed that made sense; there was too much history between them for a chance encounter to be easy and breezy. Not to mention that their surprise reunion was rather public. He hadn’t been able to read her expression well enough to tell whether seeing him was merely awkward for her or genuinely painful.

  He had found her attractive in her early twenties—too much so since she’d been the girlfriend and then the wife of one of his best friends—but she was even prettier at the dawn of her thirties. He remembered her hair being long and tousled, bleached to near white. Now she wore it in a sleek, darker blond bob that nicely framed her oval face. Her eyes looked larger and softer without the black eyeliner she’d favored back then, but they were still the vivid blue he remembered so clearly. Of average height, she was still slim. Maybe she’d gained a few pounds, but the soft curves looked good on her. Womanly, as opposed to girlish.

  He knew she hadn’t remarried, but he didn’t know if she was seeing anyone. Did a working, single mom of six-and-a-half-year-old twins even have time to go out? Not that it was any of his business. She had made that clear enough at Jason’s funeral, when she and Jason’s mother had walked away from him without a backward glance.

  It hadn’t been the first time he and Renae had parted painfully. Two years earlier, while she was still dating Jason, they had shared one illicit kiss, spurred by forbidden infatuation and a few too many drinks. Though they had never crossed that line again, the attraction between them that night had been strong. Ill-advised, but mutual.

  Did she ever wonder, as he did occasionally, what might have happened had he handled that episode differently?

  Shaking his head in irritation, he pushed himself out of his chair and his memories. He had things to do tonight. He would call Renae, but when he did, it would be strictly about scholarship business. The past was just that—over and done. They had new lives now, new responsibilities. It was far too late for what-might-have-beens.

  He’d have to remind himself of that every time those old memories escaped the deep hole where he’d buried them years ago, until he finally convinced himself.

  * * *

  “Mom, Daniel’s feeding Boomer from the table again.”

  “Am not!” Daniel set both hands hastily on the table, an exaggeratedly innocent look on his face.

  Renae glanced at the small brown-and-white dog happily chewing something beneath her son’s chair. “Don’t fib, Daniel. And don’t feed the dog from the table or I’m going to have to put him in the backyard when we eat.”

  Daniel sighed gustily, his dark hair falling over his forehead. Renae made a mental note to take him for a haircut Saturday. She would have had Lucy take him one day after school, but Lucy always insisted the barber cut Daniel’s hair shorter than he liked now that he was in first grade. Renae figured some battles just weren’t worth the trouble. Daniel was old enough to start expressing his preferences in clothing and hairstyle—within the limits Renae set, of course.

  “Hunter got in trouble in school again today,” Leslie said, indulging in her favorite pastime of gossiping about her classmates over dinner. “He wouldn’t stop playing with his crayons when it was time for math lessons. Ms. Rice took his crayons away and he was mad.”

  “Hunter should listen to the teacher,” Lucy said with a disapproving shake of her salt-and-pepper head. “I hope you two are behaving in your classes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they chorused dutifully.

  It had been at Renae’s request that her children had been assigned to separate classes. They got along very well for the most part, for which she was grateful, but she thought it was good for them to form relationships as individuals and not just as “the twins.”

  “You aren’t eating much this evening,” Lucy commented, eyeing Renae’s plate with a frown. Short, plump and matronly, widowed for almost two decades, Lucy dressed and often acted older than her fifty-nine years, resisting any attempts to modernize what Renae thought of as her housewife-y wardrobe, or to add any new activities to her life. She was content to keep house for her daughter-in-law and grandchildren, and attend the many church activities that kept her occupied while the kids were in school. “Aren’t you feeling well? Do you not like the food?”

  “The food is excellent, as always, Lucy,” Renae answered patiently, taking a bite of the beef carnitas just to prove her point. Washing it down with a sip of peach-flavored iced tea, she then explained, “I had a late lunch today, so I’m not overly hungry tonight.”

  Lucy’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you just took a turkey sandwich and a few carrot sticks for lunch. I figured you would be hungry tonight.”

  Lucy hadn’t actually prepared the sandwich, because Renae insisted on making lunches for herself and the twins. It was one of the little things she did to make herself feel that she was pulling her weight around the house, despite Lucy taking the bulk of the cleaning and cooking. Still, Lucy kept an eye on what went out of “her” kitchen in brown bags and decorated lunch boxes.

  Renae was reluctant to admit she’d left her turkey sandwich in the office fridge when she’d bolted after seeing Evan. She hadn’t mentioned that encounter to Lucy yet, though she supposed she should. Maybe she would wait until the twins were in bed, and then try to find a way to break the news without unduly upsetting her mother-in-law, who still bristled whenever Evan’s name came up after all these years.

  Daniel squirmed restlessly in his seat, making Boomer wag his tail frantically in anticipation of fun. “I’m done with my dinner—may I go play now?”

  “We have dessert,” his grandmother reminded him, momentarily distracted from Renae’s lack of appetite. “Fruit tarts.”

  Looking torn, Daniel glanced from his waiting pup toward the kitchen. “Can I have dessert later? I’m full.”

  “Go play for an hour, then you can have dessert after your bath,” Renae agreed. “Leslie, do you want yours now or later?”

  “Later,” Leslie decided. “We’re going to teach Boomer how to fetch.”

  “Good luck with that,” Lucy said with a laugh and a shake of her head as the twins carried their plates and silverware carefully to the kitchen, accompanied by the eager dog. They would leave the plates on the counter by the sink for now, but when they were a little older, Renae would teach them to rinse and stack them in the dishwasher. She thought it important that both her children perform daily chores, so that everyone in the household made a contribution to its smooth functioning.

  With her usual tenacity, Lucy returned her attention to Renae. “Are you not feeling well? Something seems to be off with you this evening.”

  Since the children were out of the room, Renae figured she might as well get this behind them. “There’s something I need to tell you. A new patient came to the clinic today. Turns out it was someone we know.”

  “Oh?” Lucy stacked her fork and knife on her empty plate and laid her napkin on the table beside it. “Who was it?”

  “Evan Daugherty.”

  She could almost feel the chill that settled over the room. Lucy froze in her chair, her eyes blackening to polished ebony. “Evan Daugherty showed up at your office today?”

  “Yes. He had an appointment with Dr. Sternberg.”

  Every muscle in Lucy’s body seemed to have gone stiff. “Why is he coming around you now? What does he want?”

  “Lucy, his visit had nothing to do with me. He didn’t even know I work for Dr. Sternberg.”

  The sharp sound she made clearly expressed Lucy’s skepticism. “Did he try to talk to you?”

  “We exchanged greetings. He asked about the twins.”

  “Their welfare is none of his business.”

  “He was merely being poli
te. People were watching.”

  “Is he coming back?”

  “I don’t know. If he made another appointment, it wasn’t through me.”

  Lucy shook her head. “I hope he stays away. That man is bad news.”

  Renae moistened her lips with a sip of tea and braced herself for the reaction to her next admission. “I gave him my phone number. He’s going to call sometime to discuss the scholarship he and Tate started in Jason’s memory.”

  Predictably, Lucy scowled in disapproval. “You gave him your number? He must have pressured you into that. He’s very good at talking people into things.”

  “He did not pressure me. He said he wanted to talk with me about the scholarship and I gave him the number because I think it’s a worthy cause. Simple as that.”

  Even the mention of the scholarship founded in her late son’s honor didn’t soften Lucy’s expression. “Don’t get mixed up with him, Renae. Evan Daugherty brings trouble. He was always getting my Jason into scrapes when they were boys and then he talked him into going out on those motorcycles when Jason should have been home with you getting ready for his babies.”

  There was a distinct quiver in her voice when she finished. Lucy held Evan responsible for Jason having the motorcycle in the first place. Evan had bought a used bike during his first year of college for commuting to classes, and Jason had subsequently decided he wanted one, too. Because Evan had helped Jason find a good deal, Lucy had always insisted that Evan had all but coerced her son into buying a dangerous motorbike.

  Renae didn’t have the heart to remind Lucy that Jason had been the one who had stubbornly insisted on going on that last ride, even though he had promised Renae he’d help her work on the nursery that weekend. Jason had argued with her, saying he wouldn’t have many chances to get away once the kids arrived, and Renae had capitulated—as she so often had with Jason. Neither of them could have known, of course, that he would never return. That his life would end that afternoon beneath the wheels of a car that had sped through a stop sign without even slowing down.

  Renae had been grateful ever since that she and Jason had parted with a kiss, despite the earlier quarrel, instead of hard words.

  “This scholarship is important to me, Lucy,” she said, trying to make her tone both firm and gentle at the same time. “The Jason Sanchez Memorial Scholarship will help young men go to college who might not have gone otherwise, and you know that would mean a lot to Jason.”

  At the time of his death, Jason had been a high school history teacher. Having already obtained his master’s degree in history, he was just starting to work toward a doctorate degree, with the ultimate goal of teaching at a college level. A scholarship for at-risk young men was the perfect way to honor his memory, and despite her complex emotions concerning Evan Daugherty, Renae had been gratified to hear that one college freshman had already benefited from the effort.

  “It was very generous of Evan and Tate to start this scholarship, and I’d like to be informed occasionally of its progress,” she reiterated. “That doesn’t mean I’ll be getting mixed up with either of them.”

  “They’re both trouble,” Lucy repeated in an unhappy mutter. “Especially Evan.”

  Renae couldn’t necessarily disagree with that, though her own reasons for thinking of Evan as trouble were distinctly different from Lucy’s.

  “I’ll keep your warnings in mind.” She stood and started gathering dirty dishes and glassware. There was no need to continue this conversation now. Lucy was in no mood to concede that Evan had any good intentions, and Renae was committed to supporting the scholarship effort in whatever way she could. Even if that meant crossing paths—or at least phone calls—occasionally with Evan, a prospect that made her pulse rate flutter erratically and annoyingly as she helped her mother-in-law clear away the remains of their dinner.

  * * *

  Evan called Thursday evening. Winding down from a day of school followed by Tae Kwon Do lessons, the twins, already bathed and in pajamas, sprawled on the floor watching their allotted hour of television. Lucy knitted on the couch while Renae read in her favorite easy chair. It was a rare quiet hour in the usually bustling household and the summons from Renae’s cell phone was an intrusion despite the musical ringtone.

  As if suspecting the identity of the caller, Lucy frowned. “Who is calling at this hour?”

  Glancing at the ID screen, Renae swallowed. “I’ll take it in another room. Kids, start getting ready for bed as soon as that program is over.”

  Without taking their attention from the television, they nodded. Renae lifted the phone to her ear as she left the room, avoiding her mother-in-law’s disapproving stare. “Hello?”

  Though she’d seen his name on the screen, Renae’s stomach still tightened when she heard the deep voice in her ear. “Hi, Renae. I hope this isn’t a bad time to call?”

  She stepped into her tidy bedroom and closed the door. “No, it’s fine.”

  “I mentioned to Tate that I saw you Tuesday. He said to tell you hello.”

  “Tell him hello back for me,” she said lightly, sitting on the edge of her still-made bed.

  “I will. So, anyway, he and I talked about the scholarship and we think we need to have a formal-ish meeting about it. You know, to get some guidelines in writing and figure out how to promote it and start seeking applications. We’ve been pretty haphazard about it so far, choosing Tate’s new brother-in-law for the first recipient sort of impulsively—anyway, we want to do this correctly from now on. And we both wondered if you would like to be involved.”

  She followed his somewhat disjointed remarks with a baffled frown. “Involved in what way?”

  “You know,” he said, “working with us to outline the qualifications. Maybe read through applications and help us make our selections. That sort of thing. We’ve never administered a scholarship before, so this is all new to us.”

  “I don’t have any experience with that, either,” she said. And yet she found herself strongly tempted by his offer. As wary as she was about spending time with Evan, considering all the potential complications, she would hate for the scholarship to fall by the wayside because of a lack of effort on her part. “What can I do to help?”

  “Tate suggested we could have a planning meeting right after work one evening, maybe over an early dinner. I know your evenings must be busy, with the kids and all, but would it be possible for you to join us one day next week?”

  An after-work meeting with both Tate and Evan at a restaurant sounded innocuous enough—as much as possible, anyway. And a public venue would make the reunion even less awkward. “I’ll be free next Wednesday evening after six. If that time is open for you and Tate, I could meet with you then.”

  “We’ll make sure it’s open. How does six next Wednesday sound for our first official meeting?”

  It sounded soon. But she kept her nerves out of her voice when she said briskly, “Yes, that will be fine. Where shall we meet?”

  “All the paperwork and stuff is at my place. We figured we could spread it all out there and discuss it without interruption. I can provide food. My apartment’s not far from your office, so it should be convenient for you.”

  “At, uh, your place?”

  “If that’s agreeable for you?”

  It was hardly the public restaurant she’d had in mind. Had he said all along the meeting would be at his home, she might have made an excuse not to go—but because her hesitation made her feel cowardly, she refused to change her answer now. “Yes, that will be fine.”

  “Would you like one of us to pick you up?” he offered.

  “No, I’ll drive. I’ll just need the address.”

  She scribbled the address he gave her on a message pad she kept on her nightstand. She recognized the name of his apartment building, an upscale place only a few blocks from the eye clinic. She drove past it twice every weekday, but she’d no idea Evan lived there.

  “You have my number if anything comes up in the me
antime,” Evan reminded her.

  His number would show on the list of received calls on her phone. She would store it in her phone’s contact list, just in case. “Yes, I have it.”

  “Good.” His purported reason for the call out of the way, he moved to a more personal topic. “How have you been, Renae?”

  “I’m well, thank you. And you?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” Was that an undertone of dissatisfaction in his voice? Perhaps in response to her insistence on remaining businesslike, despite his own change in tone?

  After a brief hesitation, Evan said, “Renae—this scholarship. I just want you to know it means a lot to Tate and to me. I know we’ve been a little disorganized about it so far, but that doesn’t mean we don’t take it seriously. It’s something we’ve talked about doing since we started our business. We hope Jason would approve.”

  She couldn’t stay quite so brusque in response to his very obvious sincerity. Her voice sounded a bit softer to her own ears when she murmured, “I know it would please him very much that you and Tate have chosen to honor him this way.”

  “Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “So I’ll, uh, we’ll see you Wednesday?”

  “Yes. Wednesday.”

  Disconnecting the call, she sat for a few minutes longer in the silence of her sage-and-plum bedroom. A few photos were clustered on the cherry dresser that matched her bed and nightstand, furniture she’d purchased a year ago after starting her new job. She didn’t glance at the frames that held pictures of her children and her late husband, but she was suddenly, acutely aware of them.

  The meeting she and Evan had arranged was all about the scholarship, she reminded herself. There was no other reason for her to go to Evan’s home, or to see him or Tate again. Lucy would probably accuse Evan of using the powers of persuasion she was sure he possessed to talk Renae into this meeting, but he’d done nothing more than offer her a chance to be involved with the program, and she had chosen to accept.