is in my pocket, but as much as I want to slip that ring on your finger, I won’t. The time isn’t right for you to wear it yet. Spend this weekend with Simon. A few days will make all the difference in the world.”
That was exactly what Angie feared most. Another concern bobbed to the surface of her mind: her father. “Clay mustn’t know I was in Groves Point.”
They exchanged meaningful glances. “Is it the money?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever happened to it?”
She lifted one delicate shoulder, not wanting to say the words.
“Clay spent it?”
“It gave him the chance to follow his dreams. He’s a wonderful musician,” she said, a trifle too defiantly. “He went to Nashville looking for a chance to sell his songs.”
“And blew it.” Glenn completed the sad tale in three simple words.
“I don’t think he’s ever forgiven himself. Although he never mentions the Canfields, he hates them almost as much as he detests Groves Point.”
Clay had followed his dreams, and in doing so had shattered Angie’s. With the money in his hands, he had become a stranger. He left Angie staggering with shock and grief in Charleston and bought a secondhand car to drive to Nashville. The way to impress the powers-that-be waswith money, Clay had claimed. He’d return, he promised, as rich as Rockefeller. Wealthier than the Canfields, at least. Within a month he was back, broke and broken. For a time he tried to convince Angie that she had sold herself cheap, and that the thing to do was to return to Groves Point and get more money. For the first time in her life, Angie refused her father something. Now he hated Groves Point and the entire population. His music would never be sung, and it was easier to blame the Canfields than to accept fault with his own actions.
“But he’s going to wonder why we’re celebrating. In all the time we’ve been going out, we’ve never taken Dad to a fancy restaurant. He’s expecting us to announce our engagement. What are we going to tell him?”
Glenn grinned suddenly. “We’ll simply have to make up something. Should I tell him you’re pregnant?”
“Glenn!”
“All right, you come up with something.”
In the end, they called it a belated Father’s Day gift, until a sober, disappointed Clay reminded Angie that she had already given him a shirt and tie.
Friday morning, Angie must have glanced at her wristwatch fifteen times between eleven and eleven-thirty.
“You’re doing your bullfrog routine again,” Donna mentioned casually. “You sure have been jumpy this week.”
Arguing with Donna would be useless, especially since she was right. In spite of herself, Angie glanced at her watch again. Simon had said he’d be by to pick her up for lunch between eleven and noon.
The door opened and Angie looked up. Her breath froze in her throat, nearly choking her. Simon’s smile was filled with a wealth of love. A slow, admiring grin crept across his face. He was dressed casually in an open-collared sport shirt and cotton slacks. Angie couldn’t recall him looking more devastatingly handsome. Her eyes were glued to him, and for the life of her she couldn’t speak or move.
Donna’s gaze swung from the immobile Angie to Simon and then back to Angie.
“Can I help you?” Donna intervened, obviously confused.
“I’ve come to take your employer to lunch.”
Angie’s fingers worked furiously with the satin ribbon she was forming into a huge bow. With a dexterity that came with years of practice, she wove the ribbon in and out of her fingers, twisted it with a thin wire, and set it aside for Donna to insert into a floral centerpiece.
“Are you ready?” Simon directed the question to her.
“Yes. Give me a minute.”
Donna’s face scrunched up with a frown. “You’re the man who called earlier this week.”
Simon’s gaze didn’t waver from Angie’s. “Yes.”
Flustered and eager to make her escape before Donna asked any more questions, Angie moved around to
That was exactly what Angie feared most. Another concern bobbed to the surface of her mind: her father. “Clay mustn’t know I was in Groves Point.”
They exchanged meaningful glances. “Is it the money?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever happened to it?”
She lifted one delicate shoulder, not wanting to say the words.
“Clay spent it?”
“It gave him the chance to follow his dreams. He’s a wonderful musician,” she said, a trifle too defiantly. “He went to Nashville looking for a chance to sell his songs.”
“And blew it.” Glenn completed the sad tale in three simple words.
“I don’t think he’s ever forgiven himself. Although he never mentions the Canfields, he hates them almost as much as he detests Groves Point.”
Clay had followed his dreams, and in doing so had shattered Angie’s. With the money in his hands, he had become a stranger. He left Angie staggering with shock and grief in Charleston and bought a secondhand car to drive to Nashville. The way to impress the powers-that-be waswith money, Clay had claimed. He’d return, he promised, as rich as Rockefeller. Wealthier than the Canfields, at least. Within a month he was back, broke and broken. For a time he tried to convince Angie that she had sold herself cheap, and that the thing to do was to return to Groves Point and get more money. For the first time in her life, Angie refused her father something. Now he hated Groves Point and the entire population. His music would never be sung, and it was easier to blame the Canfields than to accept fault with his own actions.
“But he’s going to wonder why we’re celebrating. In all the time we’ve been going out, we’ve never taken Dad to a fancy restaurant. He’s expecting us to announce our engagement. What are we going to tell him?”
Glenn grinned suddenly. “We’ll simply have to make up something. Should I tell him you’re pregnant?”
“Glenn!”
“All right, you come up with something.”
In the end, they called it a belated Father’s Day gift, until a sober, disappointed Clay reminded Angie that she had already given him a shirt and tie.
Friday morning, Angie must have glanced at her wristwatch fifteen times between eleven and eleven-thirty.
“You’re doing your bullfrog routine again,” Donna mentioned casually. “You sure have been jumpy this week.”
Arguing with Donna would be useless, especially since she was right. In spite of herself, Angie glanced at her watch again. Simon had said he’d be by to pick her up for lunch between eleven and noon.
The door opened and Angie looked up. Her breath froze in her throat, nearly choking her. Simon’s smile was filled with a wealth of love. A slow, admiring grin crept across his face. He was dressed casually in an open-collared sport shirt and cotton slacks. Angie couldn’t recall him looking more devastatingly handsome. Her eyes were glued to him, and for the life of her she couldn’t speak or move.
Donna’s gaze swung from the immobile Angie to Simon and then back to Angie.
“Can I help you?” Donna intervened, obviously confused.
“I’ve come to take your employer to lunch.”
Angie’s fingers worked furiously with the satin ribbon she was forming into a huge bow. With a dexterity that came with years of practice, she wove the ribbon in and out of her fingers, twisted it with a thin wire, and set it aside for Donna to insert into a floral centerpiece.
“Are you ready?” Simon directed the question to her.
“Yes. Give me a minute.”
Donna’s face scrunched up with a frown. “You’re the man who called earlier this week.”
Simon’s gaze didn’t waver from Angie’s. “Yes.”
Flustered and eager to make her escape before Donna asked any more questions, Angie moved around to
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