grovel."
"Cal. Grovel?" Ginger looked at her friend as if her brain were leaking. "Never happen." She crammed the underwear into the case, followed it with an armful of shirts, pants, and shoes, then sat on it to zipper it up.
"What are you going to do in Seattle, anyway?"
"Shop."
Tracy looked alarmed. "Oh, no. Not another reincarnation."
"Could do worse things." She pulled a brush through her hair, and it tangled so bad she needed both hands to set it free. Maybe she'd get a haircut. One of those Marine style crew cuts over a dyed blue scalp. Something futuristic.
"Don't do it, Ginge. He'll call. You'll work things out. You know what they say, patience makes the heart grow fonder."
"That's absence, Trace. And that's exactly what I'm going to be. Absent. Like the great woman said, 'I vant to be alone.' I intend to put some major miles between me and Waveside." And Cal Beaumann, she added to herself. "Cal is selling Cinema Neo and moving on." She squared her shoulders. "He didn't factor me into that event. More fool him." She leaned over and kissed Tracy on the forehead. "After Seattle, I'm going to up to Canada. I'll call you from there."
"Canada?" Tracy made it sound as if she were heading for Siberia, rather than a friendly border crossing less than two hours away. "How long are you going to be gone?"
"I don't know. Anywhere from a few days to forever. I'll call you," she said again, and with that she picked up her bag, her injured pride, and headed for the door. She intended to take all the time she could afford.
It wasn't every day a woman had to get over a man like Cal Beaumann.
* * *
Cal called Ginger the following morning. He had a lot to say and was impatient to say it.
"She's where?" he said to Tracy, not sure he'd heard right.
"Someplace in British Columbia."
Canada. What the hell had taken her there? "Okay, I'll try her cell phone."
"She's not answering it, just took it with her in case of emergency."
"Damn." Cal's stomach tightened, and he rubbed his jaw. "Did she say when she was coming back?"
"She said she was coming back when she was completely and irrevocably over you." He heard Tracy munch on something. The woman was always munching. "Those were her words, not mine."
"Damn." If it hadn't been Tracy on the other end of the phone, Cal would have used a more fitting expletive. Okay, he should have called, but hell, his business troubles weren't Ginger's. And he'd had nothing to say until things were finalized—and when he'd left there'd been no guarantee they would be.
"I just hope she doesn't do something crazy."
"Like what?" he asked.
"Like coming back with purple hair and a nose ring." Now that sounded like Ginger, but he didn't care if she came back as the tattooed lady, just so long as she came back.
After he hung up the phone, he cursed. There was nothing he could do but wait. And if there was one thing in the world he was lousy at, it was waiting.
* * *
Eight days later, Ellie dropped the mail on his desk, and he muttered his thanks. She headed for the door, then stopped. "Cal?" she asked.
"Uh-huh."
"Would you mind if I took off an hour early this afternoon?"
"No problem." He didn't lift his head from the posters he had spread over his desk.
"Great. I'm meeting Ginger at the thrift shop. She's going to help me get a new image."
Cal's brain locked on one word. He lifted his hands from his desk, and the posters snapped back into rolls and hit the floor. "Did you say Ginger?"
He must have raised his voice, because Ellie took a step back. "Uh huh."
Cal came out from behind his desk. "Ellie, you can have the whole damn week off if you tell me exactly where and at what time you're supposed to meet Ginger."
"A week? Really?"
"Really."
* * *
Ginger, half in and half out of a copper colored sweater, stopped tugging long enough to stare into the angriest pair of green eyes she'd ever seen. Cal. She gave the sweater a yank to pull it over her head, but only succeeded in snagging
"Cal. Grovel?" Ginger looked at her friend as if her brain were leaking. "Never happen." She crammed the underwear into the case, followed it with an armful of shirts, pants, and shoes, then sat on it to zipper it up.
"What are you going to do in Seattle, anyway?"
"Shop."
Tracy looked alarmed. "Oh, no. Not another reincarnation."
"Could do worse things." She pulled a brush through her hair, and it tangled so bad she needed both hands to set it free. Maybe she'd get a haircut. One of those Marine style crew cuts over a dyed blue scalp. Something futuristic.
"Don't do it, Ginge. He'll call. You'll work things out. You know what they say, patience makes the heart grow fonder."
"That's absence, Trace. And that's exactly what I'm going to be. Absent. Like the great woman said, 'I vant to be alone.' I intend to put some major miles between me and Waveside." And Cal Beaumann, she added to herself. "Cal is selling Cinema Neo and moving on." She squared her shoulders. "He didn't factor me into that event. More fool him." She leaned over and kissed Tracy on the forehead. "After Seattle, I'm going to up to Canada. I'll call you from there."
"Canada?" Tracy made it sound as if she were heading for Siberia, rather than a friendly border crossing less than two hours away. "How long are you going to be gone?"
"I don't know. Anywhere from a few days to forever. I'll call you," she said again, and with that she picked up her bag, her injured pride, and headed for the door. She intended to take all the time she could afford.
It wasn't every day a woman had to get over a man like Cal Beaumann.
* * *
Cal called Ginger the following morning. He had a lot to say and was impatient to say it.
"She's where?" he said to Tracy, not sure he'd heard right.
"Someplace in British Columbia."
Canada. What the hell had taken her there? "Okay, I'll try her cell phone."
"She's not answering it, just took it with her in case of emergency."
"Damn." Cal's stomach tightened, and he rubbed his jaw. "Did she say when she was coming back?"
"She said she was coming back when she was completely and irrevocably over you." He heard Tracy munch on something. The woman was always munching. "Those were her words, not mine."
"Damn." If it hadn't been Tracy on the other end of the phone, Cal would have used a more fitting expletive. Okay, he should have called, but hell, his business troubles weren't Ginger's. And he'd had nothing to say until things were finalized—and when he'd left there'd been no guarantee they would be.
"I just hope she doesn't do something crazy."
"Like what?" he asked.
"Like coming back with purple hair and a nose ring." Now that sounded like Ginger, but he didn't care if she came back as the tattooed lady, just so long as she came back.
After he hung up the phone, he cursed. There was nothing he could do but wait. And if there was one thing in the world he was lousy at, it was waiting.
* * *
Eight days later, Ellie dropped the mail on his desk, and he muttered his thanks. She headed for the door, then stopped. "Cal?" she asked.
"Uh-huh."
"Would you mind if I took off an hour early this afternoon?"
"No problem." He didn't lift his head from the posters he had spread over his desk.
"Great. I'm meeting Ginger at the thrift shop. She's going to help me get a new image."
Cal's brain locked on one word. He lifted his hands from his desk, and the posters snapped back into rolls and hit the floor. "Did you say Ginger?"
He must have raised his voice, because Ellie took a step back. "Uh huh."
Cal came out from behind his desk. "Ellie, you can have the whole damn week off if you tell me exactly where and at what time you're supposed to meet Ginger."
"A week? Really?"
"Really."
* * *
Ginger, half in and half out of a copper colored sweater, stopped tugging long enough to stare into the angriest pair of green eyes she'd ever seen. Cal. She gave the sweater a yank to pull it over her head, but only succeeded in snagging
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