Читать книгу For Better Or Worse - Jill Amy Rosenblatt - Страница 9

Ian MacKay took a deep drag on his cigarette, exhaling a long spiral of smoke. Standing outside the gothic-style church in Midtown, he watched the parade of limousines as the stone saints on either side of the doors watched him. New York City was baking under another day of unexpected heat and he held his jacket draped over his arm. As the limos discharged their cargo, a rainbow of couture hurried past him, as if afraid of melting under the onslaught of the sun. The beautiful people cast cool glances at his jacketless form and open-collared shirt.

“I told Emily, June is best,” he heard a woman say. “There is nothing more romantic than a summer wedding in New York.”

He squinted through the smoke at the men in their finely tailored suits; no doubt financial wizards, like the groom. He wondered if Michele had chosen a man like one of these to take his place, to be her next husband. Feeling his blood pressure rise at the thought of his ex-wife, he threw his cigarette down, grinding it into the concrete with the tip of his polished shoe. That was the first and last time he’d be walking down the aisle. Turning, he entered the church.

Inside the narthex, he inhaled the welcome blast of frigid air and shrugged into his jacket. A bridesmaid emerged from a side door. His eyes traveled the length of her, lingering on the rose-colored slip of a dress hugging her slim form. Her blond hair was swept into a neat French twist and she fidgeted with the small bouquet of orchids in her hand. Wondering what scent she wore, he was instantly sorry he wasn’t closer. She caught him in his scrutiny, her delicate features furrowing into a frown.

“Which side?” she asked.

Ian couldn’t decide whether she was annoyed or bored. “Sorry?”

Her hazel eyes moved over him. “The bride or the groom’s side?”

“Neither,” Ian said, amused to find himself the subject of her examination.

She pointed to a large book lying open on a stand. “Would you care to write a wish to the happy couple?”

“I don’t think it will help.”

She gave a short, clipped laugh before catching herself. “Your accent—England, no, Scotland.”

“Very good.”

“You’ve come a long way to witness a wedding when you have no faith in marriage.”

“I didn’t say that. It’s not for everyone though, is it?”

“Let me guess, it’s not for you.”

“Not for me, no.”

She chuckled, this time without the smile. “Still finding yourself?”

“I’m not lost.”

“You need your space.”

“My flat is quite roomy.” He smiled, enjoying her look of irritation.

She straightened. “A man who knows his own mind, how refreshing.” She waved the bouquet toward the chapel. “Sit anywhere you like.” Turning on her heel, she disappeared back into the room she had come from.

Entering the sanctuary, Ian spotted Robert maneuvering his sturdy six-foot frame through the clusters of guests chatting and laughing in the aisle. He approached his friend and received Robert’s firm handshake.

“Eighty grand on flowers,” Robert lamented. “There isn’t a pink rose left in Manhattan. What a waste.”

“It’s not a waste. They’ll use them for the divorce party.”

Robert gave a laugh.

“How do you know what the flowers cost?”

Robert leaned in. “Because the groom hasn’t shut up about it since we got here.”

Ian glanced over his shoulder toward the narthex. “Did you notice the girl I was talking to?”

Robert nodded. “That’s Karen’s friend, Elizabeth, a money manager. Did you notice she’s not your type?”

“You don’t know what my type is,” Ian shot back.

“Oh, I beg to differ. As your oldest friend, I have seen your taste across five countries and two continents. She’s not your type.”

Ian gave Robert a sharp look.

“But I don’t interfere anymore.”

They stood in awkward silence.

“If you’re that interested, I can put in a good word. If I tell Karen about your many chivalrous exploits, I’m sure it will get back to Liz. Rescuing damsels in distress stranded by no-good boyfriends—”

“It was hardly a rescue.”

“Providing room and board to countless weary travelers, including myself.”

Ian smirked. “All right, are you done amusing yourself? How much have you told Karen about me?”

Robert shrugged. “Nothing. You told me not to say anything. You haven’t even told me what you’ve been doing for the past two years. Why all the secrecy?”

Ian shrugged, glancing back at the narthex. He thought he caught sight of Elizabeth again. “It’s not secrecy. It’s a new country, a new life.” He turned back to Robert. “Best to leave the past where it is, don’t you think?”

“Whatever you want.” He gave Ian the once-over. “You’re not wearing a tie.”

“I was hoping they’d ask me to leave.”

“Not a chance. The bride loves you and your no-tie, who-gives-a-shit artist attitude.”

“If she truly loved me and my attitude, she would’ve bought three of my paintings, not one.” Ian put his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Now, let’s have it. What’s your prediction?”

“One year. Then they flame out.”

“And you’re never wrong.”

“Almost never.”

Among their friends, Robert’s keen understanding of human nature had rendered him a seer. His uncanny aptitude for foretelling the future was an urban legend, with one exception—the happily-ever-after he had predicted for Ian’s marriage.

Elizabeth and Karen watched Robert and Ian from the narthex.

“So who’s the operator talking to your betrothed?” Elizabeth said, taking in his slicked-back blond hair curling over his open-collared shirt and the short, trimmed beard. She lingered over his slim, wiry frame. I am enjoying this way too much.

“Robert’s best friend, Ian MacKay, from Scotland.”

But he hasn’t been there in a while, Elizabeth thought. The accent was watered down, the thick brogue long gone.

“I don’t know that he’s an operator, he seems like a good guy. Robert didn’t say much about him.”

“He wears the most delicious cologne,” came a voice from behind them. They turned in unison, finding Emily glowing in her Badgley Mischka gown. It was perfect for her, the scoop neckline revealing the right amount of cleavage, the dropped waist making her five-foot-nine-inch frame seem even taller, more regal. A descendant of a founding father and subsequent captains of industry, Emily’s money was as old as her lineage and it showed; she didn’t walk, she flowed, her elegance a hallmark of her birthright.

“And, his beard is like velvet,” she added.

Elizabeth feigned a look at her watch. “You still have twenty minutes. Would you like to switch grooms?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “I kissed his cheek.”

Elizabeth folded her arms.

“Okay, both cheeks, it’s the European way.” Emily laughed, coloring. “I invited him for tea a few times, strictly business. He’s going to paint my portrait.”

“And why is this the first I’m hearing about Ian MacKay of Scotland and his beard of velvet?” Elizabeth said, turning an enquiring eye on Karen.

“He just got here,” Karen said. “You haven’t come up for air since your promotion. I hardly see you anymore.”

“Uh-hunh,” Elizabeth said, giving Karen a sharp look. “Painting Emily’s portrait?”

Karen sighed. “Yes, he’s an artist.”

Elizabeth gave a disgusted laugh, and headed back to the dressing room.

“Liz, you can’t judge all artists by Josh and certainly not by William,” Emily said, trailing after her, Karen close behind.

“I do not judge all artists. I simply have an intimate understanding of their basic nature.”

“Which you use to judge them,” Emily persisted as they entered the dressing room.

“Whatever.”

Emily held out her hands to draw them into a circle. “Now, my dearest friends, this is it. This is Act Two of our lives.” She held up Karen’s hand, with its glittering diamond ring. “We’ve all found our soul mates.”

Karen’s eyes darkened with concern.

“Now, don’t fret, your wedding will be perfect,” Emily said. “Lots of people have crazy parents. Who is that philosopher you study?”

“Lao-tzu. Taoism teaches stillness, and giving up fear, anxiety, and control so all things flow naturally to the right ending,” Karen said.

“Oh, I love that,” Emily squeaked. She turned to Elizabeth. “After Karen and Robert are married, you and Nick will be next. You two are my crowning triumph, a perfect match—and Nick knows it.”

“It’s only been six months.”

“He told Parker you were the one after the first date.”

Elizabeth smiled. He knows it, and I know it too. She glanced at Karen and caught her friend’s look of doubt.

The wedding planner, flanked by her team, blew into the room. They whisked Emily away, all the while clucking at Elizabeth and Karen to take their places.

“How are you, really?” Elizabeth whispered to Karen as they fell into line for the processional.

Karen sighed. “Did you see Page Six? My parents are at it again. Divorced for ten years and they don’t see that as a reason to stop fighting. The Tao says troubles are like rocks in the middle of a stream. The rocks try to interrupt the water’s calm flow, but they can’t. My parents aren’t rocks, they’re boulders.”

“You haven’t told them you’re engaged, have you?”

“I couldn’t. She’s in Europe, on a book tour, but still found time to give a satellite-radio interview. The subject? My father’s plagiarism. She quoted chapter and verse from his solo works, claiming it was stuff she wrote when they were married. She can’t prove it. She can never prove it. You know when they created audioconferencing, I don’t think this is what they had in mind.” She sighed. “Twenty years of marriage, twelve books together, and this is how it ends. Actually it doesn’t end, it just keeps going.”

“What about your father? Did you tell him you were getting married?”

“He’s been too busy.”

“Is he finishing a new book?”

“No, his fifth marriage.”

“Oh.”

“I need to remain calm, be still, and it will all work out. The Tao says be flexible and learn to let go of the most important issues. Then they work out by themselves.”

If only it were that easy, Elizabeth thought.

The first bars of music began; there was a palpable rustle as the crowd turned in unison toward the door.

Elizabeth counted silently to five before taking her first step. Making her way down the aisle, feeling the eyes of the crowd on her, brought back a flood of memories; the steps she had taken to the altar. Up ahead she saw Parker, the groom-to-be, whispering something to the minister. For a second he became Josh, her Josh, pulling her aside and whispering that he couldn’t go through with it. He was sorry; he didn’t mean to hurt her.

It seemed a lifetime ago and yet still fresh as yesterday. She gave herself a mental shake and focused straight ahead. That was almost fifteen years ago. I’m almost thirty-five years old. I’m a grown woman. Why think about the past?

She caught a glimpse of Ian MacKay as she passed by; those deep, blue eyes, the hint of baby-smooth skin peeking out from the corners of his beard. Her eyes rested on him a second too long; she shook off any thought of him, scanning the crowd until she found Nick.