Like Charles, she was angry, angrier than she’d ever been in her life. In one rational corner of her mind, she knew—had known all along—that it was a mistake to goad him with all those ridiculous lies.
But the shocking thing, the sad thing, was that he’d believed them. To his way of thinking, apparently, it all fit. And as far as Steffie was concerned, there was nothing more to say.
In time, she’d regret her outburst, but she didn’t then. At that moment, she was far too infuriated to care. In time, she’d regret the lies, the squandered hopes—but it wouldn’t be soon.
“Well?” her father asked, his expression pleased and expectant as she let herself into the house an hour later. “Are you two going to look for an engagement ring in the next few days?”
“Not exactly,” Steffie said, moving into his den. As he’d promised earlier, her father was waiting up for her, reading in his favorite chair.
His face fell with disappointment. “But you did talk about getting married, didn’t you?”
“Not really. We, uh, got sidetracked.”
“You didn’t argue, did you?”
“Not really.” Steffie was unsure how much to tell him. She worried that if he knew the extent of the rift between her and Charles, he’d feel obliged to do something to patch things up.
David set aside his reading glasses and gazed up at her. “You’ll be seeing him again soon, won’t you?”
Living in Orchard Valley made that very likely. It was the reason she’d chosen to study in Europe three years earlier. “Naturally I’ll be seeing him.”
David nodded, appeased. “Good.”
“I think I’ll go up to my room and read. Good night, Dad.”
“Night, Princess.”
On her way up, Steffie met Norah at the top of the stairs. Her younger sister glanced in her direction and did an automatic double take. “What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think anything’s wrong?”
“You mean other than the fact that you look like you’re waiting to get to your room before you cry?”
Her sister knew her too well. Steffie felt terrible—discouraged, disheartened, depressed. But in her present mood, she didn’t have the patience to explain what had happened between her and Charles.
“What could possibly be wrong?” Steffie asked instead, feigning a lightness she didn’t feel.
“Funny you should say that,” Norah said, tucking her arm through Steffie’s and leading the way to her bedroom. “Valerie asked me nearly the same thing not long ago. What could possibly be wrong? Well, I’d have to say it’s probably trouble with a man.”
“Very astute of you.”
“Obviously it’s Charles.” Norah didn’t react to Steffie’s mild sarcasm.
“Obviously.” She was tired, weary right down to her bones and desperately craving a long, hot soak in the tub. Some of her best thinking was accomplished while lazing in a bathtub filled with scented water. She’d avoided bubble baths since the time she’d spent hours in one waiting for Charles.
“Did you two have a spat?”
“Listen, Norah, I appreciate your concern—really, I do… I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”
“Bed? Good grief, it’s only seven.”
“It’s been a long day.”
Norah eyed her suspiciously. “It must have been.”
“Besides, I have a lot to do on Monday.”
Norah’s interest was piqued. “What’s happening then?”
“I’m going to Portland to see about my application at the university and to find an apartment.”
For a moment Norah said nothing. Her mouth fell open and she wore a stunned look. “But I thought you told Dad you were going to wait on that.”
“I was…”
“But now you aren’t? Even after you promised Dad?”
Steffie glanced away, not wanting her sister to see how deeply hurt she was. How betrayed she felt that Charles would believe she was deceitful enough to trick him into marriage. It seemed that whenever Charles Tomaselli was involved, she invariably ended up in pain.
“I feel better than I have in years.” David greeted Steffie cheerfully early the next morning. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and studying the Portland Sunday paper. He welcomed her with a warm smile, apparently not noticing his daughter’s lackluster mood. “Beautiful morning,” David added.
“Beautiful,” Steffie mumbled as she poured herself a cup of coffee and staggered to the table. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, and she felt as though she was walking around in a nightmare.
She’d spent the entire night arguing with herself about the lies she’d told Charles. In the end, she’d managed to convince herself that she’d done the right thing. Charles wanted to believe every word. He’d seized every one of her sarcastic remarks, all too ready to consider them truth.
“What time will Charles be by?” her father asked conversationally.
“Charles?” She repeated his name as though she’d never heard it before.
“I thought the two of you were going horseback riding this afternoon.”
“Uh…I’m not sure Charles will be able to come, after all.” The date had probably slipped his mind, the way it had hers. Even if he did remember, Steffie sincerely doubted he’d show up. As far as she was concerned, whatever had been between them was now over. In fact, the more she reviewed their last discussion, the angrier she became. If he honestly believed the things she’d suggested—and he certainly seemed to—then there was no hope for them. None.
“I’ll get dressed for church,” Steffie said bleakly.