Kitabı oku: «Intimate Enemy», sayfa 2

Deciding to forego dinner alone, she headed back to Copper Lake. It was a lovely drive, quick on the interstate, peaceful on the two-lane state road. She’d never heard of the town until she’d met Russ and Robbie in law school and had visited only three weekends with Russ before he got married. Still, when she’d been looking for someplace to run away to after life had gone to hell in Macon and Robbie had suggested Copper Lake, it had seemed right. Immediately she’d felt as if she belonged. She’d borrowed office space from Robbie until she’d had enough clients to justify her own place, and she’d bought a house, made a few friends—and a few enemies, but at least they weren’t the type to try to kill her.

She hoped.

Robbie was worried that her mystery man might be just that type. She hoped he was being overly protective. Everything the guy had done so far had been innocent. A vase of gorgeous flowers. A box of to-die-for chocolate liqueur candies. A scrawled note after a verdict that read Congratulations. The best lawyer won.

Innocent. Even if there was something inherently creepy about it. Even if it did rouse old memories, old discomforts.

It was after six-thirty when she drove into Copper Lake. She went downtown and turned at the east corner of the square to pull into a space right in front of her office. She would want to make notes on the interview with Dr. Sleaze, she’d told Lys. It wouldn’t take long, then she could head home for dinner alone in front of the TV.

One thing she couldn’t blame her admirer for: she didn’t like being alone in the building. She’d been alone in the office in Macon when her former client’s father had paid a visit. She’d forced herself to deal with the fear that night had created—not conquer it, but cope with it. She made herself come in here once every week or two, even when the work, like tonight, could be done just as easily at home. She forced herself to be brave, or at least pretend.

Everything was quiet. She locked the entrance behind her, then locked the reception door. Lys always left a few lamps burning, and they were on now, lighting her way into her office. The blinds were drawn, per Lys’s routine. No need to advertise that Jamie was there.

As if the car parked out front wasn’t advertisement enough.

Jamie got comfortable at the computer, aware of the window behind her, opened a document file and began typing. She didn’t like the idea of calling Laurie Stinson’s psychologist to testify. She found the guy a little too smug, too condemning of J.D. and his family when he’d never met any of them. Just like everyone else, there were good Calloways and bad ones. Not wanting to be married to Laurie anymore didn’t automatically make J.D. one of the bad ones.

Outside a car door thudded, stilling Jamie’s fingers on the keyboard. She wasn’t the only one downtown tonight, she reminded herself. The restaurant on the other side of the square was open until eight, the coffee shop until nine. Sophy Marchand, who owned the quilt store next door, lived upstairs; the street was the only place for her and her visitors to park.

Still, Jamie typed faster, leaving the typos to fix later. As soon as she finished, she saved the file, shut off the computer and, with a rush of relief, headed for the door.

The outer hallway was exactly the way she’d left it—lights on, stairs empty, door locked. She paused in the foyer to locate the keys for the rental, and movement outside caught her attention. A man crouched beside her car, next to the driver’s door, and he was fiddling with something.

Her first impulse was to run into the bathroom in her office, locking every door behind her, and call for help. Her second was to take a deep breath. The street was well-lit, and there were people in the square. And this was Copper Lake, her office, her sidewalk. She was safe there.

She stepped outside as the man leaned closer to the car. The door swung shut with a soft whoosh, and she quietly turned the key in the lock before taking a step toward him. “Can I help you with something?”

He stiffened, and the air between them practically shimmered. The tightness in her gut warned her it was Russ before he glanced over his shoulder, but it didn’t lessen the impact of coming face-to-face with him for the first time in months. It didn’t make the derision in his blue eyes any easier to take.

Slowly he stood, and she watched. His jeans, cleaner than what he’d worn earlier, fitted just as snugly, and his T-shirt looked a luscious size too small. With his impressive muscles flexing, his dark hair cut really short and his jaw stubbled with beard, he looked too damn sexy for her own good.

“Sorry,” he said in a tone that clearly said he wasn’t. “I didn’t hear the portals opening.”

The portals of hell. She’d heard some of the names he called her—bloodsucker, Satan, queen of the dark. She would have been amused by them, maybe even proud of them, if they’d come from someone else.

“What are you doing to my car?”

His gaze dropped to the object in his hands. He turned it over a time or two, then held it out. “This was wedged behind the tire. I pulled it out.”

When she didn’t reach for it, he laid it on the hood of the car. It was a thin piece of wood, maybe six inches long, with nails hammered through, their points extending several inches on the other side.

“Is that one of those strips used to hold carpet in place?”

“Not with 20d nails. It must have fallen out of the Dumpster when they emptied it this afternoon.”

“Yeah, and the wind just blew it behind my tire.” And backing out over it would have surely flattened the tire.

Apparently the same thought occurred to him. His scowl deepened and turned about ten degrees colder. “If I wanted your tire flat, there are quicker ways to do it that don’t leave evidence behind. Like this.” He slipped a knife from his pocket and unfolded the blade with ease, then twirled it between his fingers.

Blood rushed, echoing in her ears, and for a moment, just a moment, her chest grew too tight to allow any but the smallest of breaths. She took a step back, then forced herself to hold her ground, to breathe, to swallow the knot of fear in her throat, as she struggled to concentrate on his words.

“I didn’t even know this was your car, and I don’t give a damn whether you get a flat.”

Her gaze locked on his face. He wasn’t someone to fear. He might hate her, but he wouldn’t hurt her. And she had no doubt he was being truthful. He had no interest whatsoever in her, beyond the fact that her existence annoyed him.

But the wood hadn’t just magically appeared underneath her car, wedged, as he’d said, against the tire. It hadn’t been there when she parked, or the tire would have already lost its air.

Maybe the mystery guy had left it. Better yet, maybe someone walking along the street had kicked it. Maybe a passing vehicle had caught the edge of it and sent it spinning, or some juvenile delinquent had put it there deliberately.

“You always look under neighboring cars before you get in your own?” she asked, edging forward enough to pick up the wood without getting close to him.

His mouth flattened, and one side quirked downward. “I opened the passenger door to get a flashlight and some papers fell out.”

She could believe that. In law school, she’d never gone anywhere with him that he hadn’t had to clear papers, books and other detritus to make room for her.

“I should thank you, I suppose, for not leaving it there to ruin the tire.”

His mouth thinned even more. “Like I said, I didn’t know it was your car.” Closing the knife with a snap, he returned it to his pocket, took a heavy-duty flashlight from the bed of the truck and started across the street.

She watched until he disappeared into the shadows of a live oak before she unlocked the car door. She tossed her bag on the passenger seat and the wood strip in the floorboard, and was about to slide inside when a familiar car turned the corner.

Lys slowed to a stop behind her and rolled the passenger window down, looking from Jamie to the pickup truck beside her before frowning. “You see Prince Charmless?” she asked sourly.

“Yeah, I did. What are you doing out?”

“Picking up a pizza.”

“You know, Luigi’s delivers.”

“Yeah, but this way I get to anticipate that first bite all the way home. Want to come over and share?”

Jamie shook her head. “It’s been a long day. I just want to get home.”

“You’ll regret it when you’re looking in your freezer at nothing but boxed dinners. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Be careful.”

“Always,” Lys replied with a grin before driving away.

Jamie got into the car, started the engine on the first try and headed home. Her house was little more than a mile from downtown, in a neighborhood where the yards were big, the houses were old and the trees were older. The house was white siding above dusty red-brick, with the shutters painted black. The steps leading to the front door were brick, as well, and arched out from the foundation in half-round tiers, each anchored by pots of brightly blooming flowers.

She pulled into the driveway, stopping even with the sidewalk. She unlocked the gleaming black door, an elegant contrast to the brass kick plate, then braced herself before opening the door. Mischa, best friend, companion and confidant, rocketed into her with enough force to knock her against the jamb, then abruptly the dog dropped to her haunches, eyes wide, just the tip of her broad pink tongue showing. It was as close to a smile as a dog could get.

“Hey, sweetie, I’ve missed you, too. Do you know I turned down Luigi’s Pizza just so I could come home and be with you?”

Mischa’s ears perked at the magic word. She loved Jamie, pizza, an old red shoe and snuggling when she slept—not necessarily in that order.

“Don’t you drool on my rug,” Jamie admonished as she set her bag down at the foot of the stairs, then kicked off her shoes. “I said I turned down the p-i-z-z-a. We’ll have to make do with what’s in the kitchen.”

Still looking hopeful, Mischa followed her down the hall and into the kitchen. A lone light burned above the sink, showing clean counters, gleaming pots hanging from a rack and a cooktop that looked as if it had come straight from the factory. Jamie wasn’t much of a cook; the only appliance she used with any regularity was the microwave.

And Lys was right: she did regret turning down the pizza when she faced the stacks of frozen dinners in the freezer. Disappointed by her chicken-and-pasta choice, Mischa padded over to her food dish and munched on dry nuggets.

“Another exciting night,” Jamie murmured as she punched the microwave buttons. “You and me alone.”

Mischa looked at her, then went back to crunching.

Dull and alone were okay, Jamie reminded herself. She’d had excitement for a time, and it had almost killed her. She could handle dull and alone. She could even handle seeing Russ twice in one day.

Though, if that became the rule rather than the exception, it just might kill her, too.

Chapter 2

Predawn wasn’t an unusual time for Russ to be out and about. He could get a good deal of work done before the crews or the office staff showed up. Getting up that early for Robbie, slumped in the passenger seat beside him, was apparently cruel and unusual punishment. His head tilted against the window, his eyes were closed and his snore was quiet. The guy could stay up until 5:00 a.m. partying, but ask him to get up then for a purpose, and he barely managed.

“Hey.” Russ poked Robbie’s shoulder as he merged onto the Bobby Jones Expressway in Augusta. “We’re almost there.”

One eye opened. “Almost where?”

“The airport. Remember? The Keys? Fishing? Catching the big one?”

“I’ll do that tomorrow. Need sleep.”

“You can sleep on the plane.”

“I could sleep right here if you’d shut up.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who wanted the first flight out this morning. You should be damn grateful that I offered to drive you.”

Robbie straightened in the seat, looking as if he was coming off the end of a three-day drunk. “I should have scheduled a noon flight.”

“You lazy bum. You give the rest of us a bad name.”

“With the old man gone, someone’s gotta do it.” Robbie rubbed his eyes, then combed his fingers through his hair. Once he got around the other passengers and the flight crew, especially if any of them were female and pretty, he would shake off his fatigue and act like the TV bunny, going and going. It was easy for him.

Not so for Russ. Oh, he had the energy. He just didn’t like expending it on people.

Bush Field was coming to life as employees prepared for another start of business. Russ pulled to the curb near one of the entrances and faced his brother. “Have fun.”

“I always do.” Robbie opened the door and slid halfway out, then turned back. “Listen, if you don’t mind…keep an eye on things, would you?”

He sounded serious—a rare enough occurrence in Russ’s experience. “What things?”

“Just…things. If anything seems strange or wrong, tell Tommy about it.”

Tommy Maricci’s father had been a shift foreman in the Calloway logging operation for years, and Tommy, Russ and Robbie had raised a lot of hell before they’d all gone off to college. Now a detective with the Copper Lake police, Tommy was still raising hell with Robbie.

“What kind of things, Rob?” Russ asked again. “Are you in trouble?”

“No. But someone I know might be.”

Someone he knew would include the whole damn town of Copper Lake. Narrowing down which one of them would take more energy and interest than Russ possessed.

Robbie got out, heaved his bags from the pickup bed, then grinned. “Give my best to Amanda Saturday.”

Russ snorted. “I’ll give my best to her. I don’t want to get punched for mentioning your name. Have fun. Bring back some fish.”

“Will do.” Robbie slammed the door, picked up his bags and headed inside the terminal. Before he even reached the entrance, he’d fallen into step beside a pretty flight attendant and said something to make her flash a million-watt smile.

Grinning, Russ pulled into the lane and headed back toward the expressway and home. It was a long drive back to Copper Lake, the sun slowly rising on the horizon behind him, his schedule for the day playing through his mind. An inspection at the Forsythia Drive address, a problem with the tilers at the new clinic on the highway out of town, an appointment with the interior designer, the kitchen designer and the lighting designer at the condo project on the west side of the river, a stop by the accountant’s office. If he was lucky, he might squeeze in an hour or two to work at River’s Edge.

And if his luck ran the way it usually did, he’d run into Satan while he was there. At least he knew what car to look for this time. Idly he wondered if her car was in the garage and why she’d been working late last night. Whether he knew the person whose life she would be ruining next. How that piece of wood had gotten wedged behind her tire.

And the wind just blew it over, she’d said sarcastically. Not likely. Now that he took the time to consider it, neither was his theory that it had fallen from the Dumpster. The wood had been set securely behind the tire, nails up, a flat waiting to happen.

Was Jamie the friend of Robbie’s who was in trouble? Understandable. Russ surely wasn’t the first or last person she’d pissed off. But, knowing how he felt about her, would Robbie ask him, even in a roundabout way, to keep an eye on her?

Russ’s grin was flat. Yeah. He would.

The road into Copper Lake took him past the turns for his mother’s house, his grandparents’ place, his own place. Granddad had given each of the grandchildren five acres—one thing Melinda hadn’t been able to touch in the divorce. He had built a house there after she was gone, way back in the woods, damn near impossible to find. Old logging roads crisscrossed the hillsides, most of them leading nowhere. With the nearest house belonging to Rick and Amanda—a weekend place—and few visitors, Russ liked the isolation.

Once he reached town, he stopped at the mom-and-pop doughnut shop for a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee, then considered which project to check first. The house on Walton Way was closest—ninety years old, a complete remodel from inside out, nothing special or challenging about it.

Except that it was directly across the street from Jamie’s house. He’d known that when he accepted the job and hadn’t given a damn…but he also hadn’t been over there before she left for work or after she’d likely be home for the day. Coincidence? Or subconscious decision?

He would like to say coincidence. He would like to believe it, too.

“Hey, Russ.” Smelling of sweat and tobacco, Tommy Maricci slid into the chair opposite him. He wore shorts, a T-shirt and running shoes, and his skin was damp, his black hair sticking to his head. A pack of cigarettes showed in the breast pocket of the shirt, and his plate held two jelly doughnuts.

“You’re the only person I know who jogs across town to get doughnuts and has a smoke on the way,” Russ commented.

“I’m down to five cigarettes a day. Don’t screw with me.”

“How’s crime?”

“Booming. You take Robbie to the airport?”

“Yeah. If he wasn’t snoring, he was bitching about the time.” Russ thought again of Robbie’s request as he washed down a chunk of roll with coffee. “Is there anything going on with him that I should know about? Is he in trouble?”

Tommy raised his brows. “Robbie? In trouble?”

Only since he was old enough to walk and follow Russ and Rick on their adventures. Their family name was the only thing that had kept the three of them out of the legal system when they were teenagers, and the courtesy had extended to Tommy on more than one occasion. Not that they’d been bad. Just high-spirited, their mom said.

“What about one of his friends? Someone, maybe a female, who might drag him into her problems?”

Tommy shrugged. “You’d have to ask him about that. Or her. You have a particular female in mind?” After a moment, he grinned. “Of course you do. Only one woman still in town gives you that look.”

Russ scowled. “Let her take half of everything you own, and see how warm and fuzzy she makes you feel.”

“She didn’t take it, man. Judge Whitley did.”

“Based on the crap she let Melinda tell him.”

“Come on. Everybody knows you didn’t run around on Melinda, and everybody damn well knows you never mistreated her.”

Not everyone, Russ thought, his muscles tightening until he felt a headache coming on. A lot of people had listened to Melinda’s lies, and they’d assumed the worst of him. Clearly, the judge had believed them. Why else would he have rewarded Melinda so richly for being an unfaithful wife?

“Back to the subject,” he said, knowing he sounded stiff and not caring. “Is Robbie involved in anything even remotely that could cause trouble for him?”

“He’s a lawyer. He’s friendly with everybody. He’s a Calloway. Of course he could get into trouble. But that’s nothing new.”

If trouble doesn’t find you, you go looking for it, their mother used to say. Was that after they’d gotten caught painting all the high-school windows in the school colors of blue and gold? Or maybe when Rick had gotten his nose broken in a fight after football practice and Russ and Robbie, despite being younger and smaller, had jumped in to help him. They’d held their own, too. Or the time they’d gotten caught racing for pink slips. Or…

“Why are you worried about him?” Tommy asked. “Did he say something?”

“Just to let you know if anything strange happened while he’s gone.”

Tommy considered it while he ate the last of his doughnut, then shrugged again. “If he’s got a problem and he hasn’t talked about it with you or me, how serious can it be?”

Good point. Robbie wasn’t the sort to keep things to himself. If he had a thought on something, and he always did, he shared it. He wasn’t a secretive sort of guy.

Tommy wadded up his napkin, then stuffed it into the empty coffee cup. “If anything strange does happen, you know how to find me. Otherwise, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Russ agreed absently. “I’ll see you.”

“How was your frozen dinner last night?”

Jamie looked up to find Lys standing in the doorway, a bag slung over her shoulder and two boxes in hand. One bore the green and red of the Krispy Kreme doughnut shop down the block; the other was from Luigi’s Pizza, no doubt bearing leftovers from Lys’s own dinner the night before.

“Very good. Grilled chicken, bowtie pasta and fire-roasted veggies in a low-fat cream sauce. Yum.”

“Uh-huh.” Coming closer, Lys set both boxes on the desk, then pulled two cans of diet pop from her bag. “Sounds better than it tasted, I bet. Any word on your car?”

“I’m supposed to call the garage later today to get the bad news.” Jamie opened the pizza box and lifted out a slice heavy with toppings. “I love cold pizza for breakfast.”

“I know.” Lys chose a glazed doughnut from the other box, holding it over a napkin, and settled into one of the two client chairs. Her slim sheath and three-inch heels were black and, with her sleek black hair and porcelain-delicate skin, should have looked stark, but it worked for her. It made Jamie, in khaki trousers and pale blue shirt, feel dumpy.

“How long were you here last night?” Lys asked.

“Not long. Half an hour, maybe.”

“Any trouble?”

Immediately Russ popped into Jamie’s mind. In anyone’s book, he was trouble with a capital T, but not, she was pretty sure, what Lys was referring to.

“Anything new from your secret admirer?” Lys clarified.

After another bite of pizza, Jamie told her about the nail-studded wood.

As she’d feared, Lys looked concerned. “You think he wanted your tire to go flat so he could…play the white knight for you? Offer to change it? Give you a ride home? Jeez, Jamie…”

“It could have been an accident.” She’d been telling herself that every time the incident came to mind, but she hadn’t managed to convince herself yet. “It could have just been kids being brats.”

“Or it could have been a setup to get you in this guy’s debt—or into his car, alone somewhere. Did you call the police?”

“No.” It seemed so petty. After all, no damage had been done, and the motive was purely speculation.

“Do you still have the wood?”

“It’s in the car.”

Lys laid down the doughnut and held out her hand. “Give me your keys. I’ll put it in the vault for safekeeping. The police may want it later.”

Jamie gave her the keys, then picked up the pizza again. Cold cheese, peppers, Canadian bacon and extra onions on a thin crust were particularly comforting this morning. She polished off that piece and made a good start on the next by the time Lys returned, wood strip in hand. She disappeared into the file room—an honest-to-God vault from the days when the building had housed a savings-and-loan—then returned to pick up her doughnut. “How did you find it?”

“I didn’t. Russ did.”

That made Lys sit straighter, alerting the way Mischa did to a squirrel intrusion. “Russ Calloway? He was poking around your car when this crap suddenly appeared?”

“Russ wouldn’t have flattened my tire or changed it or offered me a ride home. He doesn’t want my gratitude, and I’m the last person in the world he would play white knight for.” Saying the words stirred an ache in Jamie’s gut. There had been a time when they’d meant so much to each other, when she’d had such hopes for their future. Now he felt nothing but hostility for her. How had they come to this?

Well, for starters, representing his ex in their divorce hadn’t been the best way to stay on good terms with him. But someone had had to take Melinda’s case. The marriage was beyond saving, and Jamie had been new to town, looking for clients to build her practice. And Robbie had assured her it was okay. Russ was a lawyer himself. He would understand that it was just business.

Yeah, right.

“White knight, giving you a ride—those would have been secret admirer motives,” Lys said. “Russ Calloway wouldn’t have secret admirer motives.”

Another twinge of pain. “And what kind of motives would he have?”

“Stalker motives. Vandalism. Harassment. Pure meanness. He doesn’t like you, Jamie. He says horrible things about you. Maybe he wants to punish you. Maybe he wants to hurt you.”

The pizza felt heavy and unwelcome in Jamie’s stomach. She set the remains of the second slice down and took a cautious drink of pop, grateful when it stayed down. “Not Russ. He’s a decent guy—”

“Who’s mad as hell at you.” Lys leaned forward, her dark eyes troubled. “Who happened to be right there when the wood showed up. Who has access to wood and nails on the job site. You said he found it and was removing it when you came out. What if he was really putting it there? He’d have no choice but to take it out again or be caught.”

Jamie pictured the scene from the night before in her mind—the dusky evening, the man crouched beside her car, his back to her. She hadn’t even recognized him until an instant before he’d turned; she certainly hadn’t seen exactly what he was doing. Had he been removing the wood strip…or wedging it in place?

Common sense waved its little fingers for her attention. For God’s sake, this was Russ they were talking about. His feelings for her aside, he was a good guy, respected in business, adored by his family, admired by his crews. Hell, she’d loved him. He wasn’t the type who would vandalize a woman’s car, not even hers. He wouldn’t harass her, would never hurt her.

“Not Russ,” she said aloud, and she believed it. “Okay, so he’s holding a grudge—”

“A grudge? It’s been three years, and he still calls you Satan.”

The pang was smaller this time, barely a discomfort. “A little displaced anger isn’t uncommon in a nasty divorce. Melinda left town. I’m the only one left to hate.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Every person who gets divorced feels that way toward the opposing counsel. It’s a wonder that any lawyer will even take on a divorce case these days, isn’t it?”

Lys’s sarcasm made Jamie smile a little. “You’ve noticed that I’ve cut way back on divorces, haven’t you?” While she’d practiced criminal law in Macon, it was tough to specialize in Copper Lake. Like the other lawyers in town, she did a little bit of everything, from criminal trials to estate planning to contract negotiation. While she would prefer to never handle another divorce, she still took on a few. It was part of practicing law in a small town.

“Jamie—”

“Lys, it was probably just kids who found the wood at the construction site and thought it’d be funny to flatten someone’s tire. Until Russ showed up, my car was the only one on the block. I got picked by default.”

Lys was reluctant to accept that version of events; it was clear in her grudging expression and tone. “You think so?”

“I do.” And if she kept saying it, before long she would believe it. Not a stalker. Not a threat. Just kids, or really bad luck.

As the digital clock on the wall rolled over to 9:00 a.m., the phone began ringing, first the main line, then the rollover. Rising, Lys put both calls on hold, then gazed at Jamie a moment. “You be careful anyway.”

The warmth of affection rushed through Jamie. Lys had been a good friend from the moment they’d met on Jamie’s second full day in town. She’d applied for the job of paralegal and secretary, and had provided support, laughter and plenty of shoulders to lean on when Jamie needed them. She hoped she’d been as good a friend in return.

The morning was busy, but they still made time for their construction-watching break, though with more care this time. Jamie scanned all the vehicles parked along the streets, looking for the 1972 Chevrolet Cheyenne pickup that was Russ’s baby—one piece of property Melinda had desperately wanted but failed to gain ownership of—and she studied every guy with dark hair, broad shoulders and a long, lean body. Ogling a site full of hard bodies to find one hard body in particular: nice work if you could get it, she thought wryly as she relaxed.

“Remember I said I need a date bad?” Lys murmured as she slid her feet back into her heels, then stood, about to return to work. “J.D. asked me out yesterday.”

“J. D. Stinson? The Calloway cousin? Our client’s soon-to-be ex-husband?”

“I didn’t say yes.” Lys gave her a chiding look. “I understand conflict of interest. But…we used to date. Before you came to town. For a while.”

“What happened? Did you break his heart?”

Lys’s smile was broad and extraordinarily white against the crimson slash of her lipstick. “You’ve got to care about someone besides yourself before you can get your heart broken. We just lost interest. He met someone else, and so did I.”

Lys hadn’t been in a serious relationship in the three years Jamie had known her. She didn’t ask how it had worked out with her someone else. The answer was pretty clear.

“He and Laurie have been separated six weeks, and he’s already dating again?”

“He never stopped dating. A lot of what Laurie says may be bull, but the infidelity stuff—that’s all true.”

“So he’s not too broken up by the divorce.”

“Like I said, you have to care about someone besides yourself.” With a wide-eyed shrug, Lys left the office for her own desk.

Jamie couldn’t imagine it as she turned back to her desk and slid the computer keyboard closer. Marriage was a big deal. A person should go into it with hopes, dreams and commitment. Of course no one was guaranteed happily ever after, but if that wasn’t your goal, if you weren’t willing to work and compromise, why bother marrying at all?