Excerpt of The Way They Were by Mary Campisi

"He's back."

Kate's brush slipped, smearing red paint onto the gray
siding of the miniature dollhouse. Damn. She snatched a rag
and began dabbing at the red spot.

"Kate?"

She dabbed harder as if she could blot out Angie's
words. "I heard you."

"And?"

Kate glanced up, proud of the outward calm she displayed
when her insides were a jumble of panic. "And what?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, it's me you're talking to here,
the
one who sat up with you for three nights straight after
that jerk left." Angie swore under her breath and
muttered, "He didn't even have the decency to say good-
bye."

"It was a long time ago." Fourteen years in July.

"Sure."

Angie Sorrento was a pint-size dynamo with a giant-sized
temper who swore in Italian and English and could carry a
grudge longer than anyone Kate had ever known. The only
grudge larger than the one Angie had for Rourke Flannigan
was the one relegated to the ex-fiancé who skipped out on
her three days before the wedding.

"Really, Angie. Fourteen years is ancient history."

Angie's dark eyes narrowed. "That's what I'm worried
about,
Kate. Your history with Mr. Jerk."

"There's no need to worry." Kate dipped her brush in red
and filled in the trim along the roof. This house was a
four bedroom cape cod, designed for Rachel and Jared
Hennessy and their seven year old twins, Jeffrey and Jason.
The family had relocated from Richmond, Virginia last year
so Jared could teach sophomore English and coach basketball
in Montpelier. Great family—devoted couple, beautiful
kids, even a golden retriever named Jed.

Angie started up again. "Even if it weren't ‘Mr. Holier
than Thou, let me grace you with my presence in this Podunk
town' and even if said man-boy weren't someone you'd
been
intimately involved with, I'd still be worried."

"Unnecessarily." Kate ignored the way her pulse skittered
when Angie talked about him.

"You're vulnerable."

"Stop." Her pulse tripled.

"You buried Clay five months ago. That makes you a lonely
widow. The perfect target."

"You watch too many Lifetime movies." Had he heard about
Clay? That was ridiculous, how could he have heard? She had
no idea where he lived and now, suddenly, he was here. Why?

"Katie? Are you all right?"

No, she wasn't. She hadn't been all right since—Kate
pushed the unwelcome truth away and glanced at her
friend. "I'm fine."

"Fine is code word for no. Look, I know you don't want to
talk about him, but there are some things you've got to
know before this guy comes waltzing back into your life."

"He's hardly waltzing back into my life."

"Steamrolling then. You just wait and see."

"We haven't seen each other since we were eighteen." A
marriage and child ago. "We're strangers."

"You were planning to marry the guy."

Kate set down her brush and plastered the same expression
she'd worn when well-wishers patted her hand and offered
prayers for strength to endure her newly-widowed state.
She'd never told Clay how much he meant to her, not really
and now one freakish accident had stolen her chances of
ever telling him.

"They say he kicks people out of their homes to get a
deal."

"That's crazy. He would never—" She stopped. How did
she know what he would never do? He was a man now, not a
teenager.

"They say he buys the buildings dirt cheap, after he kicks
the tenants out, and then renovates the places into posh
apartments for his rich friends." Angie crossed her arms
over her small chest and tilted her head to one side so
several black springs of hair bounced off her
shoulders. "While you were watching Barney with Julia, I
was watching him on E and seeing his face plastered in
People."

Rourke had always hated media in any form, said they made
it hard to find a nugget of truth in anything. Kate started
to shake her head in denial and ended in a shrug. What did
she really know about him anymore? The truth slipped out
again. Nothing.

"He flew to Sweden to have dinner with some beauty queen.
And spent Easter skiing in the Alps."

"Busy man." While Rourke was globetrotting, she'd been
burying her husband and trying to console her daughter.

"Still not married though plenty have tried to snag him."

So, there was no wife.

"Here." Angie slid a folder across the table.
"Everything
you need to arm yourself against Mr. Rourke Connor
Flannigan."

Kate glanced at the manila folder in front of her. "You
make him sound like a villain."

"If he gets to you again, you won't survive."

"Are there pictures in here?" Kate fingered the folder.

"Of course." Angie let out an indelicate snort. "Okay,
he's
drop dead gorgeous, I will give him that, but not much
else."

With a flip of the folder, she could satisfy fourteen years
of wondering. "Maybe I'll just take a peek—"

"Damn! Close the folder. Quick."

"Why?"

"Because Mr. Jerk's standing right outside."