She balled her spreadsheet into a wad and tossed it into a trash can, closed her book and rose from her desk.
“Miss Bingham!” Mrs. Mulcahy sputtered. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Are you ill?”
“Yes.” That wasn’t a lie. Now that her grieving had subsided and she was feeling better, she knew that how she’d handled the situation with Chance was wrong. After everything he’d felt for her and all the kindnesses he’d shown her, she’d just tossed him out of her life.
Like a selfish ninny.
She couldn’t believe she’d been that thoughtless. That selfish. That self-absorbed. But she’d been grieving, so steeped in her loss and her pain she couldn’t face him.
She had to make that up to him. At the very least, she had to apologize.
* * *
Chance stood by a screen displaying his PowerPoint presentation for the board of directors for Montgomery Development, with Max sitting at the head of the table in his capacity as chairman.
“In a project billed as community development, we don’t expect to make a profit, but the goodwill we’ll earn with the contractors we employ will be worth its weight in gold.”
His cell phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, but he ignored it and went on discussing the pros and cons of bidding on a huge local renovation that wouldn’t make them a dime. Still it was exactly the kind of project they had been looking for to use as a payback for the community.
His cell phone buzzed again and this time he reached into his pocket and turned it off.
Max said, “Have you worked out the projection for—”
The phone on the conference room table rang. The receptionist’s voice came over the speaker. “I’m sorry, Mr. Montgomery. But your mother is on line one. She said it’s urgent.”
Max reached for the phone, but Chance beat him to it. “She’s a quarter of a mile away from the kids. Something might have happened to one of them.”
He yanked the phone out of the cradle. “Mom?”
“Chance, darling, you have to come home.”
His heart stopped. “Why? What happened? Are the kids okay?”
“The kids are okay, but I need you—”
“Mom, I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
“Chance, have you ever known me to swear?”
“No.”
“Then the words ‘get your ass home’ should be sufficient for you to realize I’m serious.”
With that she hung up. Max said, “What’s going on?”
“She told me to get my ass home.”
Max winced. “Then you’d better get home.”
He tried not to break any speed laws as he raced along the downtown streets and up the hill to the wealthy part of town. But he knew, he just knew, something was wrong with one of the twins, and she didn’t want to tell him over the phone.
Even before he got to the front door, it opened. His mother said, “Go into the study.”
“Where are the kids?”
“They’re at your house with Bridget,” she said, referring to the new nanny.
He frowned. “Then why did you call me?”
She turned him and physically shoved him. “Go!”
He stumbled a bit after her shove, then made his way back to the hall expecting to find a gift. His mother had bought him new furniture, new suits, a new car, all in the name of getting him settled in town, but he knew she was aiming to get him over the hurdle of losing Tory. It hadn’t worked. Time had healed a couple of the wounds. But there were days he still missed her. Which was why he wouldn’t be surprised to find a real estate agent sitting on the leather sofa with a folder full of listings to show him.
With a sigh, he opened the door.
And saw Tory.
He faltered. Part of him wanted to run to her. The other part knew she could be here just to apologize for running out on him and the kids. She was kind like that. Responsible. And wouldn’t he be a fool to race into her arms only to have her rebuff him again, and have to start the healing process all over?
She turned at the sound of the door and her face gave away nothing. A thin straight line, her lips were neither smiling nor frowning. Soft with sadness, her big brown eyes caught his gaze.
“Hi.”
He took a step inside the door. “Hi.”
“You look good.”
He smiled. “Handmade suits from Italy will make any guy look good.”
She sniffed a laugh. “Right. You know you’re attractive.”