Читать книгу Second Honeymoon - Laura Abbot - Страница 9

SATURDAYS WERE ALWAYS HECTIC in the Harper household. If Scott didn’t have a golf game, he usually spent part of the day working. Justin’s athletic schedule frequently underwent last-minute changes and Hayley often came home from a Friday-night sleepover exhausted and moody. Meg longed for that impossible luxury—an entire day free of carpooling, errands and social obligations. But it wasn’t happening today. Oh, no, their twentieth anniversary had dawned with Marie’s sudden demand for a hair appointment.

Getting her in with Giorgio had not been easy. Now Meg owed him big-time—he’d been appalled that his client actually expected him, stylist extraordinaire, to set Marie’s hair on rollers. Shortly after returning from the hairdresser’s, Meg had heard an anguished cry from Hayley. Upon investigating, she’d discovered her daughter, horrified expression on her face, staring out her bedroom window overlooking the front yard. “See, Mom, I told you it was embarrassing!” Gathered on the lawn were several neighborhood teenage boys examining the motor home. Justin, with the flair of a carnival barker, was pointing out the features of the oversize vehicle.

“Maybe they think it’s cool.”

Hayley snorted, then grinned. “In some alternate universe.”

Unbelievably, Scott had made it to both Justin’s soccer game yesterday and Hayley’s football game. This morning he’d slipped out of the house for a round of golf with Bud without a mention of their anniversary.

Fresh from a late-afternoon shower, Meg stood in the doorway of her closet studying her choices of party apparel. Darned if she’d wear the black chiffon Scott liked. No, she needed something flamboyant, in-your-face. Something to make a statement about her independence. She pulled out an electric-blue cocktail suit with a magenta silk shell. The short, hip-hugging skirt made her feel halfway sexy, and the color would bring out the blue of her eyes. This could be her last anniversary observance, so she might as well go down with all flags flying.

She’d just finished applying her makeup when she heard Scott return from his game. Fleetingly, she wondered what he was feeling today. Had he spent any time remembering the small college chapel where they’d exchanged vows? The way they couldn’t wait to escape the reception in their haste to get to the hotel? Had he recalled how passionate their lovemaking had been? How naively certain they’d been that theirs was a forever-after kind of love?

Scott walked through the door and stripped off his golf shirt. “How much time do I have?”

Like she was his keeper? “We’re due at the club at six.”

“I showered in the locker room. Is this a sport-coat-and-tie event?”

Meg bit her tongue. Had he even looked at her? Noticed how she was dressed? “Yes,” was all she said.

He removed his shoes and socks, then stepped out of his slacks. “Pops managed a couple of birdies today.”

“I’m sure he had a good time.” Meg groaned inwardly. Talk about a stilted conversation. She was well aware that neither of them had mentioned the anniversary. But what was there to say? Happy anniversary would ring false, and they were long past reminiscing about other anniversaries. The big question was whether she cared.

She ducked her head. Despite the brave front she put on, part of her did care. But she wasn’t sure there was any way to fix things. Somewhere along the line, their common path had forked, and new paths had led them farther and farther apart, shattering her long-held dream of a happy home, different from the one in which she’d grown up.

She fussed with her hair, then studied her jewelry box before deciding on a pendant necklace and matching earrings. With a stab, she realized Scott had given them to her on their fifteenth anniversary.

“Meg?”

She turned from the mirror to see Scott standing tall and handsome in front of her, his tan suit sharply pressed, his paisley tie matching his shirt nicely. “Am I presentable?”

“You’ll do,” she said, rising to her feet and, out of habit, straightening his tie. She could smell the fresh tropical scent of his aftershave, sense the wiry tension in his body. She stepped away, determined not to lose herself in his masculine charm. It took more—a lot more—than occasional pangs of sexual need to make a marriage work. Abruptly, she spun around. “We’d better get on with the show.”

“Show?” he mused. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. All we are is one big act, at least according to you.”

His words stung. He made their situation sound so impersonal. “A lot can happen in twenty years, Scott.”

“Yeah, more than I ever bargained for.” His voice took on an urgent tone. “Are you sure about this, Meg? About the separation?”

For a moment she thought she heard a plea in his question, but when she looked into his eyes, they were stony.

“I don’t see that we have a choice. We’re both too unhappy. And it’s not fair to the kids.”

With that, they made their way toward the front hall where the Harpers, Justin and Hayley waited. It was as if the curtain had just gone up and they’d walked onstage, smiles pasted on their faces.

“Happy anniversary,” Marie trilled, echoed by the others.

Hayley’s skirt was shorter than Meg would’ve liked and Justin’s shirt was sloppily tucked in. Hayley pirouetted, checking herself out in the hall mirror, but Justin stared, first at his father, then at Meg. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she read hesitation and dread in the look he sent them.

“Can we just go?” he asked.

Bud laughed, “Attaboy, son. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Show? There was that word again. Meg prayed she could get through this evening without ruining it for her in-laws or her children.

INSIDE THE HIGH-CEILINGED lobby of the country club, Scott nodded to the hostess, then, knowing it was expected, put his hand on the small of Meg’s back and started toward the main dining room.

“Mr. Harper, this way, please.” The hostess redirected them toward a private room.

Bud gave a satisfied chortle. “Nothing but the best for you two.”

Just as well, Scott decided, to be out of the public area where it would’ve been harder to pull off the charade.

Marie joined them. “This is so exciting. I love being able to share such a special occasion with you.”

It was special, all right. Short of a miracle, it was probably their last anniversary together. The thought made Scott queasy.

“Here we are, Mr. and Mrs. Harper.” The hostess flung open the door, and what she revealed made Scott’s stomach even queasier. Beside him he heard Meg’s small, sharp intake of breath.

Standing in the room, glasses raised, were friends from the neighborhood, the club, the office. Stunned, Scott barely heard the chorused, “Happy anniversary!” All he could think was that the ante for this evening had just skyrocketed.

Suddenly he felt more tired than he could ever remember. And older. But sure as hell not wiser.

Meg’s grip on his arm tightened, and as she caught his eye, a determined smile on her face, he realized what the crowd expected and protocol dictated. He lowered his head and kissed his wife, something he couldn’t remember doing for quite some time.

As he drew away, Bud clapped him on the shoulder. “Gotcha, didn’t we, boy?”

His mother was hugging Meg. “Did we pull it off? Are you surprised?”

Hayley and Justin stood to one side, observing the scene like proud directors of the drama.

Scott found himself stammering. An intimate family dinner he could’ve handled. But this?

This called for an Academy Award–winning performance.

JUSTIN HAD SCARFED DOWN three rolls waiting for the main course. That was the trouble with grown-up parties. They stood around boozing it up for ages before they even sat down. Then, all the waiters brought you was a salad with smelly cheese and ruffly greens that looked like his grandmother’s doilies. The rolls had saved his life. He hoped to God they’d bring the meat and potatoes soon.

His parents and grandparents were seated at the head table, but he was sitting with the Morrisons from the neighborhood and their kid Trevor, who was palming his roll into pellet-shaped balls.

Hayley looked ridiculous. Holding a champagne glass filled with orange juice, she was acting as if she were twenty-five instead of fifteen. Yet he knew she was as anxious as he was about how their parents would react to what was still to come.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time, especially his grandmother, who’d been working on the guest list and arrangements since last spring. He’d never been able to see what the big deal was about twenty years. What did you expect when you got married? “Till death do us part,” right? So what was twenty years?

Lots of kids in his class had divorced parents. In fact, sometimes he thought he was the oddball. Brian, a guy on his softball team, spent a month with his mother and a month with his father. How weird would that be?

Chewing thoughtfully on his fourth roll, Justin studied his parents. His mother was kind of a babe, he guessed. Sleek blond hair, slim figure, blue eyes the color of the Dallas Cowboys’ uniforms. She was laughing, but it sounded like glass breaking. And his dad? He had that puffed-up, I’m-a-success look, as if he expected to cinch a huge deal any minute. But they weren’t really looking at each other. They’d kissed, yeah, but after that? It seemed like they were more interested in the guests.

He’d thought everybody was supposed to be celebrating love tonight. So why didn’t it seem like they were?

Finally. The waiter approached and set a huge slab of pink prime rib in front of him. It came with a side of curlicue-shaped mashed potatoes. Looking at the meat, he was repulsed to find white streaks of fat running through it.

He glanced at the head table once more. His father was bent over his meal as if he’d never seen food before, and his mom had her back to him, flapping her hands as she talked to his grandfather.

Justin stared at his plate and knew he wouldn’t be able to eat a bite.

And the worst was yet to come. The party was only the first part of the surprise.

The next one? He was pretty sure it didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of working.

MEG EXCUSED HERSELF before dessert and sought asylum in the ladies’ room. Fielding all the well-meaning comments and fawning expressions of joy had strained the limits of her civility. She and Scott should’ve been allied in a facade of marital bliss, but he’d become unresponsive, glum. That left her to carry on the pretense that this anniversary was a lovefest.

Fortunately the powder room was empty. She leaned against the counter, studying her reflection in the mirror. The disappointment in her eyes was all too evident. She pulled a lipstick out of her evening bag and carefully redid her lips, knowing that no amount of makeup could mask her rising sense of panic. She dabbed some cold water on the back of her neck, the chill jolting her into awareness.

And just in time. As the door swung open, she could hear Trish Endicott, the wife of one of Scott’s colleagues, saying to the woman with her, “She and Scott make an incredible team, don’t you think?”

Meg gave a silent laugh. The two of them an incredible team? Then Trish completed her thought. “Brenda and Scott are awesome together. So creative.”

Meg swallowed the bile that filled her throat. Creative? She just bet they were.

When Trish caught a glimpse of Meg, she stammered. “You know,” she said, blushing, “their work on the department-store account.”

Meg put the lipstick in her bag and closed it with a snap. “Yes, they do work well together.” She stepped around the women. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the table.”

Outside, she leaned against the wall, controlling her breathing. Were Trish’s remarks innocent, or was there more to them? Had she merely given voice to Meg’s suspicions? Now, she’d have to go back into the dining room where Brenda was, of course, an invited guest, slap a smile on her face and somehow get through this endless evening.

No sooner had she rejoined Scott and her in-laws, than Bud, a cheery grin on his face, stood up, tapped a spoon against his water glass and called for silence. Beside her, Meg saw Marie straighten, her eyes twinkling as she watched her husband.

Meg’s heart sank. Toasts. Please, she pleaded to whatever deity was in charge of graceful exits, just let this be over.

Then Meg saw that Justin and Hayley had joined their grandfather, Hayley preening in her center-stage role and Justin casting uncertain glances at her and Scott.

“The children, Marie and I thank all of you for coming to help us celebrate Meg and Scott’s twentieth.” He beamed. “And for keeping this party a secret.” Raising his champagne glass, he invited the crowd to stand and lift theirs. Then he turned to Scott and Meg, and Meg felt Scott slowly—grudgingly—put his arm around her. “To a bride, still as beautiful as the day she made my son the happiest of men. And to you, Scott, for having such good taste in women. Here’s to you both with our wishes for twenty more wonderful years of marriage.”

Looking into her father-in-law’s loving face, Meg’s eyes misted. Then the congratulations of the guests engulfed her.

“Cheers.”

“Hear, hear.”

“To Meg and Scott.”

Scott pivoted her toward him and lifted his glass. She held her breath in anticipation of his obligatory response. “Thank you, Dad, Mother, Hayley, Justin and all of you who gave up your time to be with us tonight.” He paused and Meg could feel her husband gathering himself. “And to you, Meg. Thanks for twenty years of—” his hesitation seemed to last an eternity “—togetherness.”

That was neutral enough, Meg conceded. Honest. They had been together. Living in the same house. Signing Christmas cards as a couple. Hosting dinner parties. Rearing their children. Earlier she’d acknowledged that physical attraction alone couldn’t sustain a marriage, but neither could proximity.

“Thank you,” she murmured, averting her head, letting him kiss her cheek. Her gaze fell on the amply endowed, “incredible” Brenda Sampson.

Could this evening get any worse?

The question had just crossed her mind, when the answer came. And not the one she wanted to hear.

“Well, kiddos,” Bud went on, “the celebration isn’t over quite yet. Marie, the children and I have one last surprise for the two of you.”

Meg caught Justin looking at her pleadingly. Her skin prickled. She didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“Hope you don’t mind, but Marie and I are planning to stay here in Tulsa a little longer than you bargained for.” He grinned. “We’ll be babysitting.”

“What the—” Only she heard Scott’s muttered expletive.

Bud gestured toward Marie and the kids. “To celebrate your anniversary, the four of us are sending you on a trip to the Colorado cabin where you spent your honeymoon.”

Thunderstruck. That was the only word Meg could come up with to describe her reaction. Opening her mouth to protest, she felt Scott’s hand clamp on her forearm.

“Pops, that’s very generous and we appreciate it, but it’s out of the question.”

“Absolutely,” Meg murmured.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Scott added, “but right now it’s impossible for me to leave the office.”

“Nonsense.” Wes, Scott’s partner, came to the front of the room. “It’s all arranged. Brenda and I have everything covered. You’ll join us for the presentation to the Jordan people Monday morning and then take off for Estes Park.”

“You were in on this?” Scott’s tone carried an edge of accusation.

“Sure. Your mother’s been planning this event since last March. You’re not indispensable, you know. Brenda and I will take care of business while you play. Any red-blooded man would be thrilled to whisk a wife like Meg off for a second honeymoon.”

Scott shook his head, at a loss for words.

Meg cleared her throat. “Some other time maybe. My calendar is full and—”

Hayley stepped forward, a proud smile on her face. “No, it isn’t, Mom. I went through your day planner and canceled everything. You have a whole week free.”

Was the entire world conspiring against them? How could she and Scott possibly endure seven days cooped up in a cabin that would bring back so many memories, once pleasant, now nothing but painful?

Marie, twining her fingers nervously, said in a plaintive voice, “You won’t disappoint us, will you?”

Disappoint you? Wait until you hear about the separation.

Scott went over to embrace his mother. “No, Mom, of course not.”

Of course not! Was he out of his mind? Surely he wasn’t actually planning to accept this gift. It would be a mighty expensive farce.

Suddenly, Meg became aware of their guests and their slowly dawning bewilderment. Meg knew she had to say something to save face for her in-laws. “You’ll have to excuse us, but you really caught us off guard. We’re not accustomed to leaving home on such short notice.”

“About time you started, then,” Bud said as if the matter were closed. Again, he raised his glass. “To Meg and Scott’s safe travels.”

The guests echoed the words, seemingly reassured that all would go as planned.

Scott leaned over to whisper in Meg’s ear. “Don’t say anything. We’ll talk about this at home.”

They’d talk about it, all right. About how to reject this ridiculous gift.

BUD’S FEET HURT. He hadn’t danced that much in years. He sat on the side of the bed, massaging his instep.

Smearing night cream on her face, Marie stood in the doorway to the bathroom. “Tired?”

Bud reached for the Tiger Balm on the night table. “It’s way past our bedtime, sweetheart.” He opened the lid, took a dab and rubbed it on his neck, closing his eyes against the pungent odor.

Marie wiped her hands on a tissue and crossed the room. “Here, let me.”

She dug her fingers deep into his coiled muscles, reducing him to a sigh of satisfaction. “You sure know how to make an old guy feel good.”

She chuckled. “A far cry from the way I made you feel good when we were younger.”

Where had the time gone? Back then, he wouldn’t have needed a massage, so eager would he have been to get her into bed and do wonderful things to her. Now? There was no comfort like her hands soothing his aches and pain. “I love you,” he found himself saying.

She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “And I love you, you old coot.”

She slipped into bed while he adjusted the drapes and turned off the bedside lamp before joining her. He picked up her hand and entwined his fingers with hers.

Sighing contentedly, Marie began recapping the evening, just as he’d known she would. In her voice he heard how pleased she was that they’d pulled off the party. She raved about the elaborate decorations and gourmet meal, the number of friends who’d come to help celebrate and his job as master of ceremonies.

She snuggled against him. “But you know the best part?”

He kissed the back of her hand. “No. What was that?”

“When we told them about the trip. Did you see their faces?”

Bud tensed, hoping Marie wouldn’t notice. He chose his words carefully. “I saw their faces, all right.” And they had not looked happy. For Marie’s sake, he hoped he was wrong. But he knew love when he saw it, and it had been in short supply tonight between Meg and Scott.

“There was just one odd thing,” she said. “I didn’t hear anything about Scotty giving Meg an anniversary present.”

“Maybe he did it in private.”

“I’m sure that’s the case.” She yawned drowsily and in typical fashion went straight to sleep.

Bud wished he could’ve had such a welcome release from his thoughts. He knew his son. He had not been himself tonight. Bud hadn’t wanted to worry Marie, but, if he had to make a bet, he’d say there had been no exchange of anniversary gifts.

WHEN SCOTT ENTERED the bedroom, Meg was sitting on the chaise longue, a book in her lap, waiting for him. He had loitered in the family room hoping she’d already be asleep, knowing all along that it was a vain attempt to postpone their inevitable discussion. At one time, the prospect of a week together in Colorado would have thrilled them both. The fact that now it most assuredly did not was one more nail in the coffin of their marriage.

Yet he’d seen the delighted look on his mother’s face, the kids’ smiles, his father’s beam of satisfaction. How in hell could he tell them—any of them—that a trip to Estes Park was out of the question? That the marriage was on the rocks? And he doubted that Ward Jordan would be happy to hear that he was going on vacation for a week.

Meg closed her book. “Do you want to put on your pajamas or talk first?”

He sat on the side of the bed, hands on his knees. “Shoot.”

Her eyes pierced his. “You have to tell them.”

“What?”

“That we’re not going.”

“And the reason is…?”

“Work.”

He sighed. “You heard Wes. That excuse isn’t going to cut it. Much as I’d like it to.”

“Then we’ll simply have to tell them the truth. We only have tomorrow before we’re expected to leave.”

Scott hedged. “I’m not sure I can disappoint everyone.”

She closed her eyes and let her head loll back. Finally she looked at him and said, “And you think I’m crazy about the idea?”

“Do we have to argue? What would be the harm in going on the trip? It would buy us time to get our story together.” He was grasping at straws, but he knew what joy planning this trip had given his folks.

“Are you suggesting we take the trip under false pretenses and then come home with the big separation announcement? That’ll thrill everyone.”

Damned if he knew what he was suggesting. He only knew that somehow they needed more time before deciding to take such a drastic step. If this trip would give them that time, then he was going. “Meg, here’s the deal. Before I move out, I want to be absolutely certain that separation is what’s best.”

“And you’re not?”

He searched his soul. Finally he said, “No, I’m not. What do we have to lose by taking one more week? Maybe being away from here will give us a different perspective. Allow us to figure out exactly why we’re separating. If going to Colorado means we let my parents and our kids have a few more days without heartbreak, is that so bad?”

“You’re sure you want to go?”

“I’m not happy about being gone from the office, but maybe this is an opportunity you and I need.”

She remained silent. Finally she stood, placed her book on the night table and turned to him. “Okay. Have it your way.” Then she walked into the bathroom, leaving him with no peace of mind whatsoever.

WHEN MEG OPENED HER EYES the next morning and realized she had another busy day ahead preparing for her absence, she groaned and pulled the covers over her head. Scott was already up, and she wished she never had to leave the protection of her bed. Never had to face Scott’s parents, Hayley or Justin—or her broken dreams. Just the idea of a week’s stay at the remote cabin with Scott made her restless. But maybe they did need time to decide how they were going to announce their separation.

Faintly, she could hear pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. Marie, the happy homemaker, was probably whipping up her famous apple-cinnamon pancakes. Hayley would still be in bed, but Justin and Scott were undoubtedly perched on kitchen stools applauding Marie’s efforts. Would anyone even miss her if she decided not to get out of bed?

That’s it. Keep that self-pity rolling.

She sat up, poked her feet into her slippers and headed for the bathroom, eyes puffy, mouth dry. She didn’t look forward to the separation. It wasn’t an easy choice to make. The fact was, she felt terrified.

But she could no longer endure a sham marriage. Keeping up appearances for her in-laws’ sake had already proved quite a challenge, and she had several more hours to go.

She reached for her toothbrush automatically, wondering how often she’d taken her daily routine for granted. Taken her marriage for granted.

After she washed her face and put on her robe, she wandered back into the bedroom. There on her dresser was an envelope, addressed in Scott’s bold handwriting.

She picked it up and held it for several minutes. Finally, she slit the seal and removed one of his monogrammed note cards. She studied the words scrawled there.

I’m sorry, Meg. Yesterday I never wished you a happy anniversary, and I didn’t buy you a gift. I guess I thought you’d prefer it that way. Maybe the last few years haven’t been so great, but I’ve never regretted marrying you.

Then he’d signed his name. No “Love.” Just his signature. But there was a PS. “Thanks for agreeing to go to Colorado with me.”

Meg reread the message. The note was proof of how far they’d strayed apart. He couldn’t even tell her in person how he felt.

Stuffing the card into her robe pocket, she blinked away tears that both betrayed and confused her.