in all his legal matters. Theresa was a hard worker and loyal to her clients—she’d been Conley’s counsel for several years now.
“I’m sorry to have to bother you, but…” She paused and seemed to hesitate.
A rush of coldness swept over Lara, shaking her to her toes. Theresa Marchante didn’t flounder over anything. God, had Conley already contacted her? Had he already told her to start the paperwork for the divorce?
Lara dropped her coat on a nearby kitchen chair then gripped the phone with both hands. “It’s okay, Theresa. What can I do for you?”
“I…I have some bad news, Lara.”
Lara’s chest went tight. He had told her! Conley had gone directly to his office and called his attorney! Damn, he might have even called her from the Suburban. Lara’s initial feeling of dismay, even though she’d been the one to bring it all up, morphed illogically into anger. His little act of rage this morning had been just that—an act. He couldn’t wait to be free of her, could he?
“I know what you’re going to say, Theresa.” She forced herself to speak. “I’m just surprised he told you this fast. Did he…ask you to start the paperwork already?”
“I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing, Lara. In fact, I know we aren’t. I’m calling about Conley—”
“I don’t know what he told you this morning, but the divorce is my idea, okay? I was the one who brought it up and I’m the one who—”
“Lara, look, I don’t know anything about a divorce.” In a voice uncharacteristically shaky, Theresa broke in, halting Lara’s explanation. “I’m calling because Conley’s been in an accident. I’m at the hospital right now. He asked me to phone and let you know.”
“Wh-what? An accident?” She fumbled for the chair behind her and sat down, her coat falling to the floor. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure at this point. We were supposed to have a meeting early this morning. I was running late and when I got here, I found him in the street, right outside the building. He was shivering and banged up pretty good. He said something about a car hitting him, but I didn’t get all the details. I took him straight to the hospital. The doctor’s in with him right now.”
“Oh, my God…is he okay?”
“He doesn’t seem to be hurt too seriously, but he wanted you to know what was going on.”
Lara jumped up from the chair. “I’ll be right there, Theresa. I have to get dressed but it’ll only take a minute then I’ll—”
“Lara, don’t! The weather’s horrible and it’s getting worse. You’ll just cause another accident rushing over here.” Theresa’s voice returned to its usual firm and sensible tone. “It’s not necessary. I can bring him home when they finish. If they keep him longer, then you can come after lunch. It’s supposed to be better later this afternoon.”
Lara jogged down the hall toward her bedroom. “No,” she said firmly. “I want to see him. I have to see him. I’ll throw on something and be there in twenty minutes.”
Theresa was still talking as Lara clicked off the phone and tossed the cordless unit to her bed. The attorney meant well, but she didn’t understand. When Conley got upset or worried, his mind was like a train on a single track. Lara yanked off her sweatshirt and Lycra pants. He’d been concentrating on their angry words; he’d never seen the car or whatever had hit him and she was to blame.
Pulling a pair of gray slacks from the closet and a black turtleneck, she dressed in record time, guilt fueling her every step. Five seconds later she had her hair slicked back and lipstick slapped on. Running through the kitchen, she grabbed her purse and cell phone and headed out the door, a missed shard crunching beneath her right boot.
She didn’t stop to wonder why her heart was lodged in her throat.
“I DON’T KNOW the details. That’s all I can tell you right now.” Lara gripped the steering wheel of her truck and maneuvered out the driveway. The overhead speaker of her cell phone crackled in response.
“I don’t care if he just has a hangnail, he’s better off in Denver.” Her father’s gravelly voice boomed across the line. “That Podunk hospital in Red Feather is a disaster waiting to happen. He should be down here in Boulder, at the very least.”
Before Lara could answer, she heard her father bark instructions to someone in his office, probably Larry, her stepbrother. “Get me International Helo Service outta Denver! Earl Stanley runs ’em and I want him on the phone—”
“Ed, Ed! Hold off.” Lara spoke loudly, trying to get his attention back. “I want to check things out at the hospital before you start taking over the situation. I’ll call you from there.”
“But I can have a chopper at Red Feather in no time! We’ll airlift him to Denver then Houston if we need to—”
“Let me see him first, okay? I promise I’ll call you after I get a handle on things, then we can decide what to do.”
Something in her voice must have registered. He spoke again, this time slower. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I can—”
“I know you ‘can’ anything, okay?” Lara reached the corner, the snowbound street before her virtually deserted, a blanket of white swirling down over the trees and parked cars. Another six inches of snow had fallen since she’d taken Sandy home. “But let me see what’s going on before you go into action. The way Theresa talked, I don’t think he’s hurt that badly.”
Silence was her only answer and Lara cursed to herself. He had his faults, but the old coot could read her like a well-worn book.
“If that’s what you think, how come you’re so upset?”
Lara tightened her hands, her leather gloves squeaking inside the still freezing cabin of the truck. “What makes you think I’m upset?”
“I can hear it in your voice, dammit. What kinda imbecile do you think I am? I’ve been your father for thirty-three years! You don’t think—”
“Okay, okay…enough already!” She gunned the engine and turned the corner, fighting the skidding tires. She didn’t want to explain but telling him this way did have its advantages; she could confess what was going on, then hang up on him. He could rant and rave to Larry and his wife, Stephanie. Stephanie was the sweetest person Lara knew—she could actually calm Ed down sometimes.
“So what it is?” he demanded. “If you think Con’s okay what’s wrong?”
“We had a fight this morning.”
“Everyone fights. That’s what marriage is about.”
“Not us,” she answered grimly. “Conley doesn’t argue, you know that.”
He grunted his agreement and waited for her to continue.
“We fought because…because I told him I want a divorce.”
“A divorce! Are you nuts?” Her father’s wrathful voice filled the interior of the truck. “Have you lost your mind?”
