“You’re exhausted,” she said softly. “You need sleep. And so do I. Let’s pick this up in the morning? Okay?”
“Sure, babe.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be on the couch.” He crossed to the door, then stopped and looked back at her. “I really do love you.”
“I love you, too.”
But as she scooted back under the covers, she acknowledged that there were many kinds of love. And the kind she had for Tim was more complicated than most.
The next morning, she awakened to the smell of coffee. And something baking. Cookies? Muffins?
Cinnamon rolls, she learned minutes later as she entered the kitchen, teeth and hair brushed, dressed in a pair of faded old jeans and a Cal State sweatshirt. Tim had just taken the pastries from the oven and was slathering icing on them.
He caught sight of her and smiled. “Morning.”
She crossed to the coffeepot and poured herself a mug. “How long have you been up?”
“Long enough to run up to the corner market for the paper, some cream and a roll of the Pillsbury Doughboy’s finest. Have a seat. I’ll bring you one.”
“Thanks.” She sat at the table and curved her hands around the warm mug and sipped.
“There you go.” He set a plate in front of her, then went back for his. A moment later, he sat across from her and dug in.
She watched him eat a moment, then shook her head. “What’s going on, Tim?”
“Nothing. Why?” He took a huge forkful of the warm roll.
“You’re not a morning person.”
“This morning I am.” He got to his feet, refilled his cup, then returned to the table. “I’ve got to head back today. I’ve got a faculty meeting this morning.”
Tim was leaving? The realization shouldn’t have shaken her, but it did. “Do you have to?”
“It’s a command performance.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”
She meant it. What would she do? There was no need to ask any more questions about the past or her mother-she knew more now than she wanted to.
Boys of the Vine.
She wished she could go back. Wished she had left all this alone. Stayed in San Francisco, clinging to the photograph of her mother and Dylan and her foolish belief that her mother had been as much of a victim as Dylan had been.
“I know what you need.” She cocked an eyebrow and he laughed. “No, I didn’t mean that, though you probably do need it. A spa day.”
She burst out laughing. “Right. A spa day.”
“The Kenwood Inn and Spa is just down Sonoma Highway. My first wife adored the place. We spent one Valentine’s Day weekend there.”
“I can’t afford that.”
“I’ll pay.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“Too bad, it’s already done.”
“What do you mean, already done?”
“Just what it sounds like. I booked you a spa day. It’s paid for in full. Consider it a birthday gift.”
A birthday… and then she remembered, tomorrow was her birthday. With everything that had been happening, she’d forgotten. “I can’t believe you. When did you do this?”
“Last night. While you were in the ladies’ room at the girl & the fig.”
“Sneaky. Very.”
He stood and crossed to her. He laid his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll know you’re safe. That’s really important to me. Then I’ll be back tonight. We’ll figure this out.”
She searched his gaze. The truth was, having him to turn to and lean on had been a relief. He knew her. He understood how to support without smothering. She trusted him completely.
And he didn’t think she was crazy.
Maybe that was the biggest relief of all. She would hold tightly to that, because the way things had been going, that could change in the blink of an eye.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Tuesday, March 16
3:40 P.M.
Alex reclined on a chaise in the spa lounging area. Bundled up in a thick terry cloth robe, she’d been warmed, wrapped and rubbed, exfoliated, hydrated and perfumed. Soothing new age music mingled with the tinkle of water fountains and she drifted, ridiculously relaxed, the events listed on her legal pad pushed to a far back corner of her brain.
Her thoughts lit on Tim’s middle of the night profession of love. She knew Tim. Understood him. He didn’t mean it. Not in a forever kind of way. Not an I-want-to-be-faithful-to-one-woman-until-we’re-old-and-gray kind of way.
He was a little like Peter Pan, refusing to really grow up. And that was okay. It just wasn’t what she needed.
And just like the child who only wanted to play, he didn’t want to share, either. And he had seen her with Reed.
Reed. His image filled her head. She allowed herself to linger on it a moment. Linger on the memory of his arms around her. And the way they had made her feel.
She pushed both away. She wasn’t ready to think about Reed or what her feelings for him might be. How could she? He half believed she was responsible for all the craziness going on.
Of course, she half believed it, too.
Deep in her robe’s pocket, her cell phone vibrated. She’d tucked it there, though having it with her was against spa policy.
Except for the attendant who came and went, she was alone in the lounge. Alex dug the device out of her pocket. It was Tim, she saw.
“ ’Lo,” she answered, voice thick with relaxation.
“Alex? Is that you?”
“You can’t call me here. Any minute Helga’s going to pop back in and bust me.”
“I really thought I’d get your voice mail.”
“I sneaked the phone in.” His voice sounded strange. “Where are you?”
“On the road. Look, Alex, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Shoot.” She reached for her glass of wine. “Better hurry, though. I think I hear Helga.”
“Something your mother said,” he went on. “About your dad.”
Alex set the wine down with a thud. Some of the golden liquid splashed over the rim. “My dad? She said something to you about him and you didn’t tell me?”
“Don’t be mad-” His voice faded. It sounded like he had his convertible top down. “It was during one of her episodes. She’d crashed… you know what she was like then. The crazy things she would say. I didn’t think any of it was grounded in reality.”
“What, dammit? What did she say?”
“Miss, there’s no cell phone use in the spa.”
Alex held up a finger. “What did you-”
“-called him a bad man. Really bad, she said-”
“Ma’am, our rules are specific, while inside the spa, all cell phones must be off and stowed in the locker room.”
“-she left Sonoma to get away from him… keep you away from”-his voice faded in and out-“a liar. Lied about her. I’m wondering, that story about the boys… who told you?”
“Wayne Reed. Tim, pull over. I’m only getting part of what you’re saying.”
“… blamed him for Dylan… his fault-”
The spa attendant huffed loudly and held out her hand for the phone. Like Alex was a two-year-old playing with something she shouldn’t.
Alex looked at her. “Excuse me, this is quite urgent. And it’s not like I’m disturbing anyone but you.”
The woman’s expression registered shock, then anger. She turned on her heel and stalked out. Alex suspected she would be back directly-with reinforcements.
“You have to go… I’ll tell you more tonight-”
“No, wait-”
“I’m turning off my cell.”
“No! Tim-”
“Relax, doll. We’ll talk later.”
He hung up. She immediately dialed him back, but true to his promise, he had turned off his cell. It dumped her into voice mail.
She was leaving him a sharply worded message as the attendant and spa manager entered the lounge. The manager approached her, a perfect smile pasted on her plastic face. “Ms. Clarkson, I’m afraid I have to ask you to stow your cell phone with the rest of your belongings. I apologize for any inconvenience, but our goal is to provide you a luxurious and total relaxation experience. I hope you understand.”