The Fake Husband

Desperate for distraction, she turned to her sister-in-law. “Sandy, I hear you got your nursery set up this week. Have you finished sewing the curtains and quilts? When can I come see?”

Listening to Sandy’s glowing description of ruffles and rainbows, Jacquie recalled the “nursery” she’d arranged for Erin almost fourteen years ago—a thrift-shop crib in the corner of her one-room apartment over the barn, with worn baby sheets borrowed from the family she worked for and a yellow blanket representing her first and only attempt at knitting. Crooked and lumpy, the yellow blanket had been Erin’s “friend” until she went to kindergarten, and rested safe now at the bottom of their family keepsake box.

Alicia took over the conversation at that point. Jacquie tried to relax and enjoy her baked chicken, but her stomach was fisted tight. Thankfully, she got her plate scraped off and into the dishwasher before her mother noticed. And she got Erin out of the house before the subject of Rhys Lewellyn could come up again.

Her daughter had left most of her homework until the last day of vacation, of course, and they struggled through the rest of the day with an English paper and an algebra worksheet. Jacquie could help with the writing assignment, but algebra had never been her strong point.

“Alicia got all the math genes,” she told Erin, when they’d both worked on a problem and failed to get the correct answer. “She’s the brain and Jimmy and I are the brawn of the family.”

“Can we call her and ask her to come over? It’s still early.”

“According to whom? It’s after nine o’clock. Alicia’s ready for bed by now. She gets up at five to walk, remember?”

“She could skip her walk and drive me to school.”

“I’ll drive you to school. I’m having breakfast with Phoebe tomorrow morning.”

“Can I go, too? Maybe Phoebe could do my math.”

Jacquie sighed and shook her head. “You’re going to have to ask your teacher for help, Erin.”

“But, Mom…!”

Between a troubled night’s sleep and the usual early-morning scramble to find school clothes and make lunch, Jacquie felt she’d lived through a whole day by the time she drove into New Skye and dropped Erin off at the school door.

Across the street from the school, however, was Charlie’s Carolina Diner, where she knew she could get good food and a healthy helping of friendship. Kids at New Skye High School had been hanging out at the Carolina Diner after class and on weekends since long before she and her friends took up the tradition. Many of them still came back as adults—to catch up with each other and the latest news in town, or, like Jacquie, for a chance to unwind.

“It’s only eight-thirty,” she said, sliding into the booth where Phoebe Moss waited for her. “And I’m already exhausted.”

“I know the feeling. What’s going on?” Phoebe flipped her long, ash-blond braid behind her shoulder and cupped her hands around her mug of tea.

Jacquie caught a glimpse of a sparkle on her best friend’s ring finger. “I’ll tell you in a minute. First, let me see that rock you’re carrying around.”

Grinning, Phoebe stretched her left hand across the table to show off a diamond engagement ring. “We got it in New York while we were there over the holidays.”

“Fabulous. I love the emerald cut. Where did it come from?”

“Tiffany’s.”

“Oh, wow.” Jacquie sat back in awe. “Adam really does things with style, doesn’t he?” Adam DeVries, Phoebe’s fiancé, was a childhood friend of Jacquie’s and a fellow graduate in the class of 1989. Elected mayor in November, he would assume his office in a matter of days.

Phoebe’s grin turned into a dreamy smile. “We had the most wonderful time—skating at Rockefeller Center, a carriage ride in Central Park in the snow, museums and restaurants and shows…” She sighed. “Everything was simply perfect.”

“And now you’re back home, stepping out as the fiancée of the new mayor of New Skye. Are you ready?”

Her friend gave a mock shudder. “Just organizing the swearing-in party has me going crazy. But tell me about you and Erin. What’s going on that’s making you so tired?”

She toyed with her napkin. “The holidays were great. We loved the snow, of course, since we don’t get much. But…”

“But?” Abby Brannon arrived at their table with coffee for Jacquie and fresh tea for Phoebe. As the owner’s daughter, Abby had worked in the diner since she was a little girl. Not much happened in the town of New Skye she didn’t know about. More important, she’d been Jacquie’s close friend all during high school. “Something wrong with the horses? With Erin? Your parents? Your sister-in-law’s not due till February, right?”

“Oh, no. Everybody’s fine.” She shouldn’t have started this, Jacquie realized. How much could she say without revealing the truth she’d never told a soul, not even her best friends? “There’s a new trainer in town, Rhys Lewellyn.”

“The Olympic champion?” Phoebe kept horses, and would know his name.

“That’s the one. Erin’s crazy to take lessons from him.”

“And he doesn’t teach?”

“Yes, he does.”

Both Abby and Phoebe looked puzzled.

“It’s just…I worked with him, back before Erin was born. And we parted on bad terms. So having him as her teacher would be…difficult.”

“You don’t have to socialize, right?” Abby shrugged. “Just take her to the lesson and drive away when it’s done.” A bell rang behind the counter along the back wall. “Your breakfast is up. I’ll be right back.”

Phoebe nodded at Jacquie. “I agree. Write the check and don’t talk to him any more than you have to.”

If only it were so easy. “You know Erin. She thinks everybody should be friends. And she’d take a lesson every day, if I said okay. But I…” Her excuses sounded so weak. And the fear inside her was so strong.

“You…?”

Jacquie tried to tell the truth. “After what happened between us, I can’t bear the thought of seeing him that often.”

Not the whole truth, of course. Not the part about how being within a few feet of Rhys had been enough to set her pulse to pounding, just as it had when she was eighteen years old. How she’d caught herself wanting to trace the lines on his face with her fingertips, to rub the pad of her thumb over his lips. How, after years of banishing every wisp of memory, last night she’d dreamed of the past and all the lovely hours she’d spent in Rhys Lewellyn’s arms.

Phoebe swallowed a sip of tea. “Sounds to me like there’s more to this than you’re telling.”

“Well…yes,” Jacquie admitted, folding the napkin into crisp, even pleats. “I had a crush on him at the time. So it’s hard to meet him again as an old-widow woman with a kid.” How hard, she wasn’t prepared to say.

Her friend nodded. “I can see how that would be awkward. You could just tell Erin ‘no,’ right? She would survive.”

The only way to keep Erin and Rhys from seeing each other would be to forbid her to have anything to do with horses altogether. “I don’t think that would work.”

“Well, then, just concentrate on the bad and try to forget the good stuff.” She narrowed her eyes, thinking. “He’s probably insufferable, anyway. Arrogant and callous.”

That wasn’t fair. “Only when someone doesn’t give him their best effort.”

“And peremptory,” Abby added, setting down their plates. “Always ordering people around.” She leaned against the side of the booth.

“He can be,” Jacquie admitted. “But—”

Across the diner, the bell on the door jangled as another customer came in. Jacquie glanced at the new arrival, then looked again and felt the blood rush to her face.

“What’s wrong?” Phoebe had her back to the door, but she could, no doubt, read the trouble in Jacquie’s flaming blush. “Who is it?”

Abby gave a long, low whistle. “Speak of the devil. My guess is that Mr. Rhys Lewellyn just walked in. And we left out his most obvious character trait.”