karat gold and pewter pieces. It was the most exquisite set he’d ever seen. But something in her tone set his antenna quivering. These past days they’d spent so much time together, taking walks, enjoying picnics, at other times staying indoors to ponder over the chessboard. Laura had been testy when they’d left Dr. Chatwin’s office on Tuesday; she didn’t want to see a specialist. And she’d seemed so off balance that evening on the porch—Monday. But since that time she hadn’t shown any obvious signs of feeling foggy, as she called it, or agitated. Quite the opposite. She’d seemed particularly breezy.
And yet subtle things she’d say or do let him know that some connections, or at least curiosities, were still clicking. The thing that struck him most was that, despite whatever connections she might secretly be making, Laura didn’t seem any the less in love with him. In fact, her love seemed to grow every day.
As for him …
Laura’s next question took him by surprise.
“Have you heard from your parents lately?”
He gave the obvious reply. “They live in Perth.”
“I know that, silly. But there is such a thing as a phone.”
Some years ago, his parents had moved to Western Australia, a six-hour flight from Sydney. They’d flown back for his wedding and had approved of Laura in every way. He only wished his mother hadn’t cried so much during the ceremony. Without asking he knew she was wishing that his brother had been there; she’d made sure to tell him later. Bishop understood the emotion—he felt it, too. But on that one day, Lord knows he hadn’t needed it.
He’d vowed if anything so tragic ever happened to him—if, God forbid, he lost a child—he’d keep the memories, the pain and regrets—to himself. But in hindsight, he should have been more open about his feelings after Laura’s miscarriage rather than building that wall … pretending it hadn’t hurt as much as it had. As Laura stood here now, the mountains a dramatic backdrop and the sun lighting her hair, he knew he ought to have shared more of himself, particularly when she’d stayed shut down.
She’d needed comfort then, not steel.
“Maybe we should invite them out for a couple of weeks,”
Laura went on. “Your mother seems so sweet. It’d be nice to get to know her more.”
“I’m sure she’d like that, too.”
“You could call your folks tonight after dinner.”
“I could do that.” But he wouldn’t.
“I should probably start getting the guest wing ready.”
“Laura, my parents travel a lot. They might not even be home.”
And as they walked arm in arm back to the house, she leaning her head against his shoulder and a palm folded over the hand he had resting on her waist, Bishop decided that was the excuse he’d give after pretending to call.
The following evening, he and Laura arrived in Sydney for Willis’s birthday bash forty minutes late. For a present, they decided on a dinner voucher at one of Sydney’s most exclusive restaurants. As Bishop slid out from the car now, the lights and sound coming from the party venue descended upon him. He’d tried to stay optimistic, but he couldn’t see tonight working out well. Someone was bound to say something that would trip a switch and Laura would naturally want to know more. Most likely she’d grow suspicious. Agitated. There could be a highly embarrassing scene.
It wasn’t too late to back out.
Instead, Bishop sucked it up, swung around the back of the car and opened Laura’s door.
“Willis knows a lot of people,” Laura said, surveying the elite restaurant as she slid out. Through the generous bank of streetfront windows, a throng of people could be seen milling, talking and generally having a good time. Wringing her pocketbook under her chin, Laura hesitated.
Bishop’s palm settled on her back. “We don’t have to go in if you’d rather not.”
The pocketbook lowered, her shoulders squared, and she pinned on a smile. He guessed that at some deeper hidden level where memories waited to be restored, she was as worried about this evening as he was.
“I want to go in,” she told him, but then rolled her teeth over her bottom lip. “I’m just a little anxious. I don’t know many of the people you work with.”
Bishop straightened his tie. She’d know fewer of them tonight.
They climbed the stairs, entering through tall timber paneled doors decorated with colorful leadlight, and a DJ’s music, underlined with general chatter, grew louder. There must’ve been a hundred people talking, drinking, laughing at anecdotes and discussing politics or the latest Hollywood gossip. Bishop’s gaze swept over the group. No Willis in sight. In fact, he couldn’t see anyone he knew. But then a familiar, animated face emerged from the crowd.
Ava Prynne worked in Bishop Scaffolds’s administrative section. Tonight she wore her platinum-blond hair in cascading ringlets that bobbed past the shoulders of a snug-fitting aqua-blue dress that barely covered her thighs. When she saw him, Ava, champagne glass in manicured hand, sashayed over.
“Mr. Bishop! I was hoping you’d come.”
“I’ve said before, Ava, call me Sam.”
He didn’t agree with those formalities in the office.
Ava’s gray eyes sparkled beneath the chandelier light and she breathed out his name. “Sam.”
Bishop cleared his throat. He hadn’t been aware that Miss Prynne had a crush on him until this moment.
Laura leaned across and introduced herself. “Do you work at my husband’s company, Ava?”
The blonde’s gaze slid across. Her smile disappeared at the same time Bishop’s stomach kicked and he bit his inside cheek. Already it begins.
Ava looked Laura up and down. “Husband?”
Bishop waited for the answer, then the next question, then the next. He might feel sick to his gut, but what else could he do?
But before Laura could speak and confirm that the man to whom this woman was so obviously attracted had been married three months, a uniformed waiter with a tray appeared.
“Drink, sir, madam?”
Thankful for the intervention, Bishop grabbed a juice—he was driving back—and collected a champagne cocktail for Laura.
He nodded at Ava Prynne’s glass. “Top up?”
Ava’s curious gaze, swinging from Laura back to her boss, lightened a little. “Uh, no, thank you … Sam.” But the smile she had for him fell as she looked back to Laura, then she manufactured an excuse to leave behind an awkward situation. “Katrina from accounts has just walked in. I’ll see you both later.” Ava and her blue micro dress hurried off.
Laura’s brow quirked at an amused angle. “Lucky I’m not a jealous woman.”
“You
