What We Find (Sullivan's Crossing, #1)(57)

“The very look on her face,” he said. “Looked like she was here for a takedown.”

“And you abandoned me? Some knight in shining armor you are!”

“You didn’t ask me to stay. You said it made no difference!”

“Well, I think she was here for more than her need to corner me and convince me to go to her friend’s charity luncheon. I think she wanted to see it again because Walter had been here and told her he enjoyed himself and that it was a nice place. It wasn’t up to her standards, of course, which I think came as a relief to her. She’d die a thousand deaths if this had been an exclusive spa or something. She wants to see Sully as a country bumpkin, an idiot with no taste. She hates that I love his campground. It’s been a thorn in her butt all my life.”

“I’d love to meet this Walter,” Cal said.

“I’m sure it’ll be another thirty years before either of them will be back. They live in an entirely different world. But Walter isn’t uppity. He’s rich, of course—he not only comes from old money but is a highly respected neurosurgeon, but his gift is his passion. His patients have always been his priority. He’s compassionate and brilliant, very soft-spoken and quietly powerful. Since I’ve known him, he makes the money and Phoebe spends it. And that works fine for him.” She smiled at Cal. “Phoebe means well, I suppose, but she’s shallow. She can’t help it.”

“Everyone can help it, Maggie,” Cal said.

“She was poor growing up, she said. I don’t know the details because to my memory we never had anything to do with her family, but clearly she plotted her escape from her roots. She fully intended to marry up, as they say. She started off with a tech school that would teach her what she needed to know to get a great job in a high-level corporate setting where she would meet men with money. She concentrated on beauty, intending to snag a rich husband. Sully was an accident.”

“Oh?”

“I think he was working as a welder at the time they met. They met in a classy uptown bar in Chicago. He was a handsome, sexy guy, midthirties, had been a Green Beret, had been to war a couple of times, had medals, liked to have fun. She fell for him. He told her he was coming into a big property near Aspen and so she married him. She was twenty-two. He brought her here and knocked her up. It was all downhill from there.”

Cal whistled. “Best laid plans...”

“She obviously played a better hand with Walter. Ohhh, I so hated him. They wouldn’t let me see Sully for years. Of course that was Phoebe, but Walter went along with it. Later, much later, I came to like him. Then respect him. Now I’m more fond of Walter than of Phoebe. He’s always been on my team. He tried to talk me out of marrying my husband. I should’ve listened to him.”

Cal came to attention. “You were married?”

“Didn’t I tell you that?” She laughed a little, slightly embarrassed. “I apologize. It was so insignificant. Sergei was...is an artist. Painter, sculptor. He was a dirt-poor immigrant but hung out with important people who endorsed his talent. Someone introduced us—I was still finishing residency, which might account for my brain atrophy. I didn’t realize Sergei would do absolutely anything for money and I was the trifecta—I came from Walter’s money, sort of. I had great earning potential. And I had the prestige of being a neurosurgeon who was the stepdaughter of a very well-known and highly respected neurosurgeon. But Sergei had a very short attention span and once the wedding was done, he began to flirt and rove and we didn’t last long. We were divorced before our first anniversary. Honestly, it’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I should’ve listened to... Hey! What’s that look? Have you lost all respect for me because I married badly?”

He raised his gaze to hers. “I didn’t know you were married.”

“I could’ve sworn I told you that...”

“Maggie, I was married.”

“Well, that’s okay. A lot of people our age—”

“Mine wasn’t short,” he said. “It wasn’t a mistake. I was married for eight years. My wife died two years ago.”

She was stunned silent for a moment. “Wow. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. Listen, I’m not trying to be secretive, but is it okay if I don’t talk about it right now? She died of scleroderma, a difficult disease. Let’s save that discussion for another time. Okay? It’s still hard to talk about.”

“Sure,” she said quietly. “Wow. I mean, I had no idea.”

“How could you? I’ll fill in the blanks one of these days. When the time feels right. Okay?”

“Are there a lot of blanks?” she asked.

“Details, that’s all.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m moving on the best I can, but I still find it very personal. And emotional. Right now, I want to hear about Phoebe and Walter and anything else. I want to laugh with you, then I want to hold you and take you to bed. Let’s cover my background another time. A better time.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me about your childhood with Phoebe,” he suggested.

“Ohhh, you’re not going to believe any of it,” she said.

“After the family I came from?” he asked, lifting a brow. “Really?”