A Man She Couldn’t Forget by Kathryn Shay

the office phone rang. “I’ll let it ring. It’s probably one of my sisters. When I don’t answer my cell, they call here, even though they know I’m working.” He smiled affectionately at the phone. “Some things never change. When we were growing up, they’d barge into my room whenever they pleased.” He shook his head. “They’d flop on my bed to talk, or borrow my shirts or snoop in my drawers.”
    “It sounds like you love them very much.” She swallowed hard. “I wish Samantha didn’t dislike me.”
    “She’ll come around.”
    The answering machine clicked on, and it wasn’t one of the girls. Leo’s voice sounded from the machine. “Brady, if you’re there, pick up.”
    “Who’s that?” Clare asked.
    “My agent.”
    Clare had been told she had her own agent, too, though she was currently on maternity leave and out of touch. Clare had gotten flowers from her publisher and spoken to her editor briefly on the phone.
    “Okay, you’re not there. Listen, Random House called. They’re interested in the new series we discussed. They want to see a proposal. My guess is they’re willing to offer big bucks. I know you’re worried about Clare, but you can’t do what you did before, buddy. You’ve got to keep your career on track. Call me with a date for the contract ASAP. Hope you’re all right.”
    When he clicked off, the room was completely silent. Clare stared over at Brady from the chair, where she looked small and fragile again. “Well,” she said, “this isn’t good.”
    “It isn’t as bad as it sounds.”
    “What exactly did you do last time? And don’t lie to me.”
    “I’d never lie to you.” Keep things from you, yes, but never lie. Though even not telling her everything was battering at his conscience.
    “So what was your agent talking about?”
    “When the cookbook thing took off, I put my own work aside.” Which was a huge understatement, as well as a huge mistake.
    “Why?”
    “Because the cookbooks were important to you and to me. I needed a change of pace, anyway. I often do, which is why the idea of the new series my agent mentioned came up.”
    “How many books do you have out?”
    “Ten, besides the cookbooks. I published three before I came back to Rockford.”
    She looked around the office. “Where are they?”
    “On the shelves behind you.”
    Standing, Clare crossed to the bookcase and stared at the children’s books he’d done. She took out five, set them on the floor, then took out the other five. Then she dropped down next to them, leaned against the bottom shelves and picked up one Brady recognized as his first book.
    “What are you doing?”
    “I’m going to read these.”
    “We have work to do.”
    She glanced at the phone. “Apparently, so do you. Alone. Go ahead and do something for your own stuff. I’ll read.”
    “All of them?”
    “Yes, every single one. Now hush.”
    For a minute, Brady could barely contain what he was feeling. He remembered the Clare of the past, reading his work, encouraging him, celebrating his successes. For a while she had been more excited than he was about each new book. Then things had changed. He wasn’t sure she’d even read the last one, which had cut him to the core.
    As he watched her open the first book, he swallowed hard. She read the dedication—to his dad—and the bio information. Then she started the story of Millie and Raoul. At one point, she traced the illustrations of the shy mouse and the grumpy rat with her finger. She chuckled at the antics of the rodents. Grinned hugely. After she finished the first book, she looked up. He’d been staring at her the whole time, observing the play of emotions over her face. “I’m in awe. These had to be a big hit.”
    “They were.”
    Still smiling, she went on to the second. Feeling foolish because he was staring at her, he tried to work, but he kept being distracted by her laughter, her exclamations, her sniffles. “Oh, no, Millie lost her