Читать книгу Finding Her Prince - Lilian Darcy, Lilian Darcy - Страница 10

“I don’t understand why you’d be willing to do this,” Suzanne said, several confused minutes later. She took a gulp of her soda in an attempt to refresh her dry mouth.

Stephen’s offer had seriously spooked her. It clearly wasn’t something he’d come up with on the spur of the moment. He’d been thinking about it. For how long, she didn’t know. Since his meeting with Dr. Feldman?

She had been hunting down a husband for nearly two months. She’d called up two former boyfriends, but it hadn’t taken long to cross those names off her list. They had been clumsy, lackluster relationships in the first place, and the passage of several years hadn’t helped.

She’d made some discreet inquiries through friends. Any men out there with a reason of their own for wanting to sprint down the aisle at short notice? No takers. She’d placed that ill-fated personal ad.

Now, this stranger, Jodie’s first cousin, had offered her just what she wanted and she was holding back, wary and skeptical.

“Does that matter?” he asked. “Do my reasons matter?”

“Of course they matter!” She crashed her soda glass onto the table, splashing her hand with cold, fizzy liquid. “Obviously it would help my case if we got married, and you’ve realized that, but what do you stand to gain from it?”

“The same thing that you do, Suzanne.” He was watching her, his eyes steady and open. “The knowledge that it will give Alice the best chance of a happy future.”

“My mother and her husband, Perry, are planning to give her exactly that. It’s not as if she’s going to get sent to an orphanage, or something. She’ll have a mom and a dad and it’ll be fine.”

“If that’s the case, why are you fighting it?” he asked.

She couldn’t answer. Just sat there with her mouth half-open, feeling as if someone had doused her in a bucket of hot water. He had cut to the heart of the issue in nine words. If she could sincerely believe that Mom and Perry would love Alice and would put her first in their lives, then she wouldn’t be scrambling so desperately for ways to strengthen her claim, and Stephen Serkin-Rimsky knew it.

So maybe he did care. He’d talked to Michael Feldman, and he wasn’t stupid. He understood the situation, and he cared.

“Where would we live?” she asked.

He blinked. “Well…wherever is best for Alice.”

“Okay…I’ll have more questions.”

She meant it as a threat, but he only laughed. “I don’t promise I’ll have the answers to all of them.”

“I—I need to think about this,” she told him. The blood was still beating in her head. To occupy her nervous hands, she began soaking up the little puddles of spilled soda with the corner of a napkin.

“I didn’t demand an instant decision, did I?” One corner of that firm mouth lifted again.

“No, but if it’s going to happen, it has to happen soon,” she retorted, lightning fast.

Then she saw the flare of satisfaction in his blue eyes, like the flare of a match striking. He could almost touch the intensity of her need, she realized. It wasn’t a position of strength, on her part.

“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “But we can take a few days to think about what’s involved, about what it means. The implications of a divorce, if that became necessary sometime in the future. The question of how far we are prepared to go, how much of ourselves we are prepared to give, in order to make it real.”

He didn’t mention the word sex, but perhaps he didn’t need to. They both knew it was what he meant. She wondered if the prospect should shock her, and immediately discovered that it didn’t. Yes, she could—theoretically, abstractly, distantly—imagine sleeping with him. Despite the distance and the abstraction, it was unsettling. She didn’t often respond physically to a man within an hour of their first meeting.

“I really need to think about this,” she repeated.

“Do you think that I don’t?” he said. His smile was crooked, inviting hers in return. “Do you think that I’ve answered all these questions for myself? I haven’t! I’ll give you the phone number of my hotel. Call me whenever you want to. I’ll take your number, too. We might both have things to talk about.”

Suzanne nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”

She felt like adding, “I’m going to see Dr. Feldman, too. Check you out a little further.”

As long as she could manage to do that without giving away too much herself. She didn’t want Michael to guess that she was contemplating a strategic marriage to Jodie’s cousin. She’d prefer to present it to him as a done deal after the event, a practical yet optimistic arrangement that was already working well.

“Finish your burger,” Stephen said. “Will it help Alice if you get sick?”

“No, I guess it won’t,” she agreed, and picked up the half-cooled burger. Duty, not pleasure.

He watched, wearing a small, satisfied smile, and when she had finished eating, he flicked the little bootie back to her, across the table. “Don’t forget this,” he said.

“It fits your thumb better than it fits her foot, now,” she answered him. “She’s grown so much since she was born.”

“May I keep it, then?”

“For your thumb? Gloves would be a little more useful.”

He laughed. “No, not for my thumb. I’ll send it to my mother, at home, so she can see how frighteningly tiny Alice must have been when she was born. She will probably cry at the sight of it.” His face had fallen into serious lines once more. “She would have come here with me, to see the baby, only she’s been ill. She had some major surgery a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“The discovery of this baby has done wonders for her recovery. I know she’ll want all the news of Alice that I can give her.”

And that was the moment when I knew, Suzanne thought to herself several days later. When he said that, I knew that he really did care about Alice, and I knew, for better or for worse, no matter what we decided about sex and divorce, that I’d marry him….

Rose Norton Chaloner Brown Wigan had never stayed at a five-star New York hotel before, but she was trying very hard to act as if she stayed in such establishments all the time.

It was quite sweet, in a way. At the strangest times, Suzanne detected an odd form of innocence in her selfish, beautiful and eternally blond mother. Rose and Perry had arrived from Philadelphia two days ago, “Now that our commitments have allowed us to get back here again, for a longer stay, we’re itching to see that darling baby!”

Their commitments had allowed them to do this for about two hours yesterday morning, just before lunch at Tavern on the Green.

They planned to stay over the weekend, and Mom had begged Suzanne over the phone, with that same exultant innocence, “You must come and see our suite, honey! It’s spectacular!”

Dropping in to visit Rose, as promised, Suzanne was greeted with the eager offer of anything she liked from the minibar of the sixth floor park view room. Just absolutely anything at all. A cocktail? Champagne? Chocolates?

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” Tense, too. She had something to discuss, and knew that the mood would change, at that point, like fall weather coming down from Canada on the tail end of a steamy summer.

“Are you sure, darling?” Rose said. “If there’s something you want that isn’t here, I can order it in special.”

“I’m really not hungry or thirsty.” She added gently, “You know they charge a bundle for all these little drinks and candies, Mom.” She didn’t want her mother to get carried away. Maybe Mom thought that you got these things for free. She and Perry could end up with an appalling bar bill, on top of what had to be a mammoth tab for this suite.

But Rose didn’t seem to care. “We’re putting it all on credit cards,” she said. “It’s not a problem, Suzie, really it isn’t, because we’ll pay them off no trouble, as soon as all the legal stuff with Alice’s inheritance goes through.”

Rose couldn’t quite keep the glee out of her face, but tried a little harder when her sideways glance caught Suzanne’s frown.

“I mean, as Alice’s new parents,” she continued in an earnest tone, as if giving a public speech, “we can’t be expected to live like—like hillbillies, can we?”

“No, Mom. I can’t see you as a hillbilly, I admit.”

“She’s an heiress, and we need to start moving amongst the right people—society people, you know, people who stay in hotels like this all the time—so she can make the right contacts. Perry and I have talked about this very seriously, and we both agree it’s the right thing.”

“I’m glad you’ve got your priorities worked out, Mom,” Suzanne said. Only someone who knew her very well would have picked the subtle flavor of sarcasm in her mild tone. Rose wasn’t that someone.

“Well, yes,” she answered. “Perry and I both know how important it is.”

She glanced toward her husband, who was stretched out on the couch, sleeping the way an alligator sleeps in a nice, warm Florida swamp—deceptively.

Suzanne wished she could count on his nap being genuine. She had that weather-changing announcement for Mom, and wanted to be able to make it without his input.

She took a deep breath, instead, before she spoke. “I have some news, Mom, which I hope you’ll be pleased about.”

“News? What news?” Having picked up something significant in her daughter’s tone, Rose attempted to narrow her eyes.

This was difficult. The face-lift surgery she’d had several months ago had pulled her skin so tight she wore a perpetual look of attractive, wide-eyed surprise. But the intent to narrow them was definitely there, Suzanne decided.

She bit the bullet.

“I’m getting married on Friday, and I want both of you to come to the wedding.” As Rose had done a moment earlier, Suzanne glanced at Perry, but he hadn’t stirred.

“Getting married on—! But that’s the day after tomorrow!” Rose paced the room like a soap opera actress. Her mouth was set in a line of concentration, and she was obviously thinking hard. She spun around on the high navy heels that matched her imitation silk suit, and as Suzanne had expected, the drop in temperature had arrived.

“I know why you’re doing this,” Rose accused suddenly.

“You haven’t asked me who he is.” Suzanne plowed on, as if she hadn’t heard.

Getting her head down, getting stubborn and pretending a sudden hearing loss was the only way she could deal successfully with her mother.

“It’s because of that baby. And Feldman’s views on stability and two-parent families,” Rose said, ignoring Suzanne just as thoroughly. “I thought you’d given up on this stupid rift you’re so determined to make between us, Suzie!”

“I’m not making a rift.” I’m not going to let her get to me.

“I’ve told you, it doesn’t need to be like this. Do you think I’d stop you from seeing the child?”

“His name is Stephen Serkin.”

“It won’t work, darling.” She sat down beside her daughter and put a soft, cajoling hand on her knee. Her eyes were swimming with sudden tears. “Look, you know I love you.” Her voice cracked. “You’re my daughter. This isn’t a battle, and it hurts me that you’re starting to treat it like one. Alice should come to me. I’m her closest blood relative. Accept it.”

“He’s thirty-four years old, and a doctor,” Suzanne stated. “Specializing in family practice. And he’s Jodie’s first cousin.”

Crisp fall weather gave way to Arctic winter.

“What?” Rose hissed. “So this is a total conspiracy! You think that a half aunt and a first cousin once removed add up to more than a grandmother?”

“It’s not a question of adding up.”

Again, Rose ignored her. “You’re wrong! How did you track him down, anyway?”

“I didn’t track him down. He came from Europe to visit Alice.”

“Oh, from Europe? To visit a baby? An ugly little thing who doesn’t even know she’s alive? Trust me, there’s more to it than that!”

“She’s smiled at me three days in a row.”

“Honey, that’s gas,” Rose snapped, apparently reaching the end of her rope.

Suzanne remained as calm as she could—on the surface, at least.

“He and Jodie knew each other quite well at one time,” she said, returning to what was relevant. “He studied medicine, here in New York. Jodie would have been pleased about our decision.”

The conviction in her voice was genuine.

She and Stephen had talked on the phone several times since their first meeting nine days ago, and had talked for long stretches beside Alice’s crib as well. They had gone to city hall to get their marriage license yesterday, and to a jewelry store to pick up two simple gold wedding bands. The errands hadn’t taken long. Less than two hours. And the impending marriage still didn’t seem quite real. But during all of this they’d started to get to know each other a little.

Stephen had retained the instinctive courtesy she’d seen in him last week, and the same humor and care. As for those two big questions, sex and divorce, “We’ll know, when either becomes appropriate, I think!” he’d said, with the upside-down smile she was starting to know.

Suzanne’s liking and trust had grown, building on her vivid image of him mailing a tiny pink bootie home to his convalescent mother in Aragovia. That was a gesture that couldn’t have been faked, surely!

“Did your mom get the bootie yet?” she had asked him yesterday.

“Yes, she called me last night. She was relieved to hear it was way too small for Alice now, and she’s started knitting bigger booties. Hats and sweaters and mittens, too, I expect. All pink. She loves pink. Be prepared to receive large, soft parcels with foreign stamps.”

Suzanne had laughed. She was becoming more and more certain that she’d been wrong about her initial moments of doubt and mistrust.

And Dr. Feldman had confirmed that Stephen was genuine.

“I had a diplomat friend check it out for me,” he had told Suzanne. “Anyone could blow in claiming to be Jodie’s Aragovian cousin, after all. But he’s exactly who he says he is, although I admit, I’m not yet convinced about the latest developments in his home country.”

“Developments?”

“I tend to discount the whole Aragovian thing. Jodie always did. She mentioned her cousin to me several times. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up making a permanent home here.”

“Oh, really?” She’d tried not to let her face light up. That would certainly help. She wasn’t sure what Dr. Feldman had meant by “the whole Aragovian thing,” but it didn’t matter, surely, if there was a good chance that Stephen was planning to remain here.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Dr. Feldman had said. “He’s qualified to practice medicine here, and he has the good example of his uncle to follow. Jodie’s father made a fortune in the U.S. after starting out as an immigrant without two pennies to rub together.”

Stephen had asked, this morning, if he could meet her somewhere on Friday afternoon, shortly before the ceremony. He had something for her, he’d said. She wondered what it could be. Hadn’t wanted to ask, and he hadn’t given any clues. He’d just said it.

“Something for you. For the wedding. And we might need to talk a little.”

They hadn’t been able to think of a place to meet, and had finally settled on simply arriving at the church an hour before the ceremony. It wasn’t one of Manhattan’s fashionable Fifth Avenue churches, but a little place in an out-of-the-way corner of Chelsea, where an old friend of Suzanne’s late and much loved stepfather still presided. John Davenport had happily agreed to perform the ceremony, as long as they could squeeze it in at three o’clock.

So Suzanne was meeting Stephen there at two, less than forty-eight hours away. She already felt a warm lick of anticipation curling inside her. Anticipation, and desperation.

“Jodie would have been pleased about your decision?” Rose was repeating in a derisory tone. “What do you know about Jodie? She was my daughter.”

“You gave her up for adoption at birth.”

“Because I was young, and alone, and penniless! It was more than thirty-seven years ago. Girls didn’t keep their illegitimate babies then. Not unless they were fools.”

“When she made contact with you this year, you didn’t want to know her.”

“What was the point? What good would it have done? To drag up that whole affair?” Suddenly, she gave a cynical laugh, and her focus seemed to fix on something in her mind’s eye. “Well, at least, in hindsight, if I’d known that Alex Rimsky had done so well for himself, I might have been able to get something out of it. Heaven knows, I deserve some security, don’t I? After all I’ve had to deal with in my life!” She blinked back tears. “But never mind that. We’re talking about your marriage.” Rose gave the word a sour, mocking intonation.

“No, Mom, I’ve said all I have to say.”

There was no point in prolonging this. Rose was very good at hijacking a conversation and pulling it, without warning, in exactly the direction that suited her. Suzanne didn’t have that sort of cunning. All she had was love, faith and need.

She stood up, not wanting to linger until Perry woke up. “The ceremony is at three o’clock. At John Davenport’s church. You remember, Dad’s friend? And you remember where it is?”

“Of course! But, lord, is old John still alive, after all these years?”

“He’s only in his late sixties. And, as I said, you and Perry are most welcome to come. There won’t be any written invitations, obviously. And there won’t be anyone else there.”

“Not your sisters? Not that ghastly old cousin of Catrina’s with the strange name?”

“It’s Pixie. Short for Priscilla.” Resisting the urge to defend her stepsister Cat’s eccentric but loving cousin, Suzanne added, “No, I haven’t asked them.”

Suzanne had seen Cat just last week, when Cat had come up from Philadelphia for the day to see Alice. She could have asked her to the wedding. Should have. Cat and Pixie would be hurt. Jill would have been hurt, too, only she was away in Montana, supposedly organizing a divorce.

Why hadn’t she asked them? She didn’t want to think about the possible reasons right now, just knew she’d felt a deep-seated reluctance to get them involved.

She expected an attack from Mom, but Rose just did that strange eye narrowing thing with her face again and said, “Hmm.”

“Biding her time. That’s what she’s doing,” Suzanne thought. “Waiting until she’s worked out a strategy, and talked it over with Perry.”

He had just rolled over on the couch.

I shouldn’t have invited her. I wanted to give her fair warning that I wasn’t going to simply accept Dr. Feldman’s verdict and let Alice go. But maybe that’s going to backfire. There’s been no chance to really think this through. What if everything I’m planning turns out to be a huge mistake?