go anywhere without being reminded of something I really like doing, somebody important to me. If I left Iron Springs, I’d lose all that.”
Dana opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. Coming back to Iron Springs had brought to the surface many memories she’d forgotten. But stepping into her grandmother’s house had been almost like becoming a different person, someone she used to be but hadn’t been in a long time. She hadn’t expected that, wouldn’t have believed it an hour ago. She had left a great chunk of herself in Iron Springs, and she hadn’t realized it until now.
“I like the slower pace,” Gabe said. “Everybody’s not after you to do 10 percent more this year than you did last. We don’t have to justify everything to cost accountants or efficiency experts. If I need to take the afternoon off, I just close up my shop. I also like selling things I make to people I know. Every piece of furniture I make is designed with a specific person in mind. I know what they like, what they need, even where it’ll go in the house. It’s nice to be able to see how close I came to finding the perfect solution.”
Dana could understand that. She’d often wondered where a particularly beautiful antique would be placed, if its setting would complement the piece. Even repeat customers seldom invited her into their homes.
“Maybe most of all, I like being around people I can trust, people who consider me part of their own family. People buy furniture from me even though they could get it cheaper at a discount store, because they know I’ll work a little harder to give them what they want. That’s a wonderfully warm feeling. It may sound trite in this day and time, but it makes my work more fun because it adds meaning to everything I do.”
Dana had never looked at things like that. Everyone she knew subscribed to the theory that you ought to do ten percent more this year, fifteen if you could manage it; that you shouldn’t worry about anything but making the sale; that numbers were all that counted; that you weren’t a success unless you were a success in other people’s eyes; that if working fifty hours a week was good, working sixty was better; that everything in life was secondary to being successful. She had to be a huge success to force her parents to recognize her achievements.
She had done all that and more.
Before Mattie came to live with her, she’d never once questioned that she was doing exactly what she wanted. But after Danny’s birth, she found her job at odds with being able to spend as much time at home as she wanted. Despite her partner’s objections, she stopped working sixteen-hour days, seven-day weeks. She’d even gotten to the point where, while she was trying to make a sale that might have netted them as much as fifty thousand dollars profit, she’d be thinking of what she meant to do after she left work.
Then Mattie got sick, and the worry and fear made Dana impossible to live with. Her partner had been relieved when Dana’s doctor ordered her to take some time off. Neither of them considered it anything but a temporary situation. But Gabe’s remarks, coming after her visit to her grandmother’s house, had reshuffled things in her head, had put them together in a way she’d never looked at them before.
In the world’s eyes—admit it! In hers, too—Gabe was a failure and she was a great success. But even with a failed marriage in his past, Gabe was happy and content while she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Maybe Iron Springs hadn’t failed her. Maybe she hadn’t heard what it tried to tell her.
“I always thought you wanted a family,” she said.
“I do.”
“From what I’ve seen, you’ll have to leave here to find a wife.”
“I don’t need a wife now. I have Danny.”
“You won’t have him if you don’t find a wife.”
“That’s why I think you ought to marry me.”
Surprise caused her to swerve in the road. “I thought you hated that idea as much as I do.”
“Marriage is my only option, and you’re my best choice. We can work out an equitable agreement, stay married as long as necessary, then get divorced. The whole thing won’t be messed up by a tangle of emotions. It’ll be pure business.”
The thought of her marriage being a business deal upset her. Even though nearly all her effort so far had been poured into building her career, a successful marriage had always been her goal. Getting married in this way made her dream seem further away, less real, less attainable. No one would call her relationships with men successful, but accepting Gabe’s offer made it seem like she’d given up.
On the other hand, he would lose Danny if he didn’t marry someone. What kind of woman could he find to marry him by tomorrow? How would she treat Danny? Or Gabe?
Everything was up to her.
Marrying Gabe shouldn’t be so hard. He would agree to her staying at her grandmother’s house, even living in New York. She could come down every weekend to see Danny. She and Gabe would hardly have to see each other.
“Well, what do you say?” Gabe asked.
“I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
She could tell he didn’t like that answer. But after being asked to marry him, in fewer than twenty-four hours, she deserved at least half of those hours to think about it.
Gabe studied Dana’s profile. It seemed absolutely incredible he should be asking a woman he hadn’t seen in fourteen years to marry him, a woman he barely knew, one who embodied nearly everything he distrusted. He might as well close his eyes, leap over a cliff and hope someone remembered to tie a bungie cord to his ankles. No, it was worse, like jumping out of a plane without a parachute. It could only end in disaster.
Her resemblance to Ellen frightened him. But Marshall was right. If Dana meant to shaft you, she would warn you first. She was direct, honest. Blunt, even. He hated the prospect of a second divorce. He’d promised himself if he ever remarried, it would be forever. Still, if he couldn’t get Danny any other way, he’d do it. It wasn’t as if he was marrying a stranger.
He wondered why he’d never realized that before. Though he hadn’t seen her since she was sixteen, she’d continued to be a part of his life. Through Mattie’s letters he knew about their years at that fancy New England college, their vacations in exotic places, Dana’s determination to make a success of her career. Mattie had seemed almost unaware of her own great talent, but she’d chronicled Dana’s success almost week by week. When she’d sent pictures of Danny, half of them included Dana.
Gabe couldn’t understand Dana’s almost frantic need to succeed, her willingness, like Ellen, to sacrifice nearly everything for her career. He couldn’t understand how she and Mattie had stayed friends. Given the kind of life she wanted, he couldn’t imagine why she concerned herself with Danny. She didn’t seem to need anyone—family or friends—or need to belong anywhere. He couldn’t understand such emotional isolation, her need to be so independent. Maybe she feared letting someone into her life would use up the energy she needed for her career.
Yet her decision to renovate the farmhouse caused him to wonder if she was as much of an emotional desert as she seemed. He’d seen the emotion in her eyes when she turned her car into the lane, when she saw the house, the swings, the yard. He’d also sensed she didn’t want anybody with her when she entered the house. It wasn’t a fancy apartment or a palatial villa on the Costa del Sol. Just a farmhouse. Still, something about those long-ago summers retained a very strong hold on her emotions.
