Reflections of Yesterday Read Free Page A

like bitter adversaries.
    “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”
    “Are you?” He cocked a mocking brow.
    “Yes, of course.” She felt flustered and uneasy.
    “I’d have thought you hated him. But then, it must be difficult to dislike someone who has been so generous with you in the past.”
    Simon’s biting comment was a vivid reminder of the reason for her being in Groves Point. The color flowed from her face, leaving her sickly pale. “Taking that money has always bothered me,” Angie confessed in a weak voice that she barely recognized as her own.
    The pencil Simon was holding snapped in two. “I’ll just bet it did. Ten thousand dollars, Angie? I’m surprised you didn’t want more.”
    “Want more?” she repeated, her heart constricting painfully. “No.” Slowly, she shook her head from side to side. She wouldn’t bother to explain that it’d nearly killed her to accept that.
    Her fingers fumbled at the snap of her purse and were visibly shaking as she withdrew the narrow, white envelope. “I’m returning every penny, plus ten percent compounded interest. Tell your father that I …” She hesitated. “No. Don’t tell him anything.”
    “I don’t want your money.” Simon glared accusingly at the envelope on the edge of his desk.
    “It was never mine,” Angie said, her voice laced with sadness. “I took it for Clay.”
    “My, my, aren’t you the noble, self-sacrificing daughter?”
    The words hurt more than if he’d reached out and slapped her. Involuntarily, Angie flinched. “It bought you your freedom,” she managed awkwardly. “I would have thought you’d treasure your marriage more. You paid enough for it.”
    It looked for a moment as if Simon wanted to physically lash out at her. His fists knotted at his sides, the knuckles whitening.
    “I didn’t mean that,” she whispered, despising their need to hurt each other. “I know you won’t believe this, but I wish you well, Simon.”
    He didn’t answer her; instead his troubled gaze narrowed on the envelope.
    “If you don’t want the money,” she murmured, her gaze following his, “then give it to charity.”
    “Maybe I will,” he said, and his lip curved up in cynical amusement. “I believe that was my father’s original intent.”
    To her dismay, Angie sucked in a hurt gasp. Slowly the ache in her breast eased so that she could speak. “Oh Simon, you’ve changed. What’s made you so bitter?”
    His short laugh was mirthless. “Not what, but who. Leave, Angie, before I do something we’ll both regret.”
    With an inborn dignity and grace, Angie turned and placed her hand on the doorknob.But something deep within her wouldn’t allow her to walk out the door.
    “Go ahead,” he shouted.
    “I can’t,” she murmured, turning back. “It’s taken me twelve years to come back to this town. Twelve years, Simon.” Her voice was raised and wobbled as she fought to control the emotion. “I refuse to have you talk to me as though I did some horrible deed. If anyone should apologize, it’s you and your family.”
    “Me?” Simon nearly choked. “You’re the one who sold out, so don’t play Joan of Arc now and try to place the blame on someone else.”
    “I did it for you,” she cried.
    His harsh laugh was filled with contempt. “Only a moment ago you did it for Clay, or so you said.”
    Angie swallowed back the painful lump that tightened within her throat. Sadly she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Simon, sorry for what happened and sorry for what you’ve become. But I won’t accept—”
    “Our love had a price tag—ten thousand dollars,” he shouted. “It was
you
who took that money and left. So don’t try to ease your conscience now.” Leaning forward, he rested the palms of his hands on the edge of the desk. “Now I suggest that you leave.”
    “Good-bye, Simon.”
    He didn’t answer, but turned and faced the window that looked out onto the parking lot.
    The door made a clicking sound as she