Читать книгу Society Wives: Secret Lives - Patricia Kay - Страница 12

Maybe Jack had been right. They should have simply gone to the justice of the peace’s office, Lily thought as she sat at the table in the Cartwrights’ library. How did something that sounded so simple become so complicated? Once Sandra Cartwright had reached Felicity Farnsworth, the wedding planner had offered to come right over with books, pictures and everything needed to plan her wedding.

Her wedding.

Lily’s stomach pitched. She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to marry Jack. In truth, she still found it hard to believe that he’d asked her. No, not asked, she reminded herself. He’d all but insisted.

He might have insisted, but you agreed, Lily girl.

It was true. She had agreed—for the baby’s sake. She was doing it for the baby, she told herself, so that her child would have what she’d never had—parents, a family. Not just any family, she reminded herself. Her child would be a member of the Cartwrights.

They had not been what she’d expected, Lily admitted. When she’d first seen their home, she’d wanted to turn and run. She probably would have, too, had Jack not been there to stop her. Oh, she’d rubbed elbows with rich people before because of her job. She’d even visited a mansion or two for fund-raising. But she had never been a part of that world, never been welcomed into it with open arms—literally. She could still remember the shock of being hugged by the elegant Sandra Cartwright. She hadn’t expected that. No, she had expected Jack’s mother to be cool, to treat her as the unsuitable woman who was ruining her son’s life. But Sandra hadn’t. Nor had Jack’s father or sisters. In fact, they’d all been so nice to her that she’d been on the verge of blubbering—another side effect of her pregnancy.

“We’ll need to decide on what type of wedding cake you want,” Felicity said, breaking into her thoughts. “Do you have anything special in mind, Lily?”

“No, not really,” she told the voluptuous blonde who had breezed into the Cartwright home more than two hours ago with enough energy and enthusiasm to power a ship. Dressed all in black, Felicity Farnsworth had been as cheerful as the butterfly clips she wore in her hair.

“Not to worry,” Felicity said and flashed a smile that lit up her green eyes. She pulled out another thick binder from her arsenal and plopped it on the table. “Let’s see if we can find something in here that you like.”

“Ooh, that one’s lovely,” Sandra said.

“So is this one,” Courtney said enthusiastically. “And this one.”

“That one looks like a Barbie-doll cake,” Elizabeth said dryly.

Lily sat back and watched the exchange. There was something warm and endearing about the dynamics of the Cartwright family, the way they reacted to one another, the affection beneath the squabbles, the sense of belonging. They were a real family. She looked over at the twin fireplaces and the mantels filled with family photographs. More pictures fought for space on the desk and library shelves. Beyond the library, which spilled into the living room, she saw the baby grand piano, its gleaming top covered with more photos of Jack as a boy, at graduation, of Elizabeth at her sweet sixteen party, of his parents celebrating their anniversary, of the family gathered around the Christmas tree. Someday her baby’s picture would be there. Her baby would be a part of this family. Her child would belong. It was the reason she was doing this, Lily reminded herself again. She just wished that she didn’t have to mess up Jack’s life to make it happen.

“This one is beautiful,” Sandra Cartwright declared. “What do you think, Lily?”

Lily blinked at the sound of her name and realized all eyes were on her. She looked down at the book and there was the photograph of an elegant white wedding cake trimmed with sugar roses and real white tea roses. “I think Sandra’s right. It’s beautiful.”

“So do you want to go with this one?” Felicity asked.

“Yes,” Lily said and once again she was hit by the realization that she was getting married.

“Do you have any preference to the filling? Almond and butter cream are the most popular, but we can have the pastry chef do just about anything you like,” Felicity informed her.

“What about one of those cakes where every layer is different?” Courtney suggested. “Tiffany Aldrich had one at her wedding. The cake had six tiers and each one was a different flavor. I had a slice of the Italian cream and it was to die for.”

“Well, we can certainly do that if that’s what Lily wants,” Felicity announced. “Do you think you’d like the multi-flavored layers for your cake?”

“Six tiers sounds like a lot of cake,” Lily remarked as she looked again at the photograph of the rose wedding cake, which consisted of only three layers and a small bride and groom on the top.

“That depends on how many people you plan to have at the wedding,” Felicity explained. “Do you have an idea of the number of guests you expect?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I just assumed it would be small, Jack and me and his family, maybe a few friends.”

“But, Lily dear, surely you realize that Jack has a great many friends and associates, not to mention the friends of the family who would expect to be invited,” Sandra said. “Why, I think at a minimum we’ll have three hundred guests.”

“Three hundred!” Lily repeated and she could feel her stomach drop at the thought of all those people watching her.

“There’ll be no more than thirty,” Jack announced.

Lily swung her gaze to the doorway where Jack stood. He was wearing charcoal-gray slacks and a white shirt, having ditched his jacket and opened his shirt collar. And she had never been so happy to see someone in her life, Lily thought. His eyes never left her face and as he walked toward her the knot in her stomach eased. He stood behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders. He gave her a gentle squeeze and Lily could breathe again.

“Thirty?” Sandra Cartwright said aghast. “You can’t possibly be serious, Jack. Why, my garden club alone has thirty.”

“Your garden club isn’t going to be invited, Mother.”

“But, Jack—“

“Save it, Mother. Lily and I want something small and intimate with just family and a few friends. If you can’t do that, then we won’t have the wedding here. We’ll just go back to the original plan and get married in the justice of the peace’s office.”

“Lily dear, try to talk some sense into my thick-headed son,” Sandra said. “Explain to him that it would be an insult not to invite our friends to celebrate your wedding.”

“Actually, I’d rather we kept it small,” she admitted.

“But—“

“You heard the girl, Sandra,” John said as he joined them. “She and Jack don’t want to turn their wedding into a circus. And I can’t say I blame them. If they decide they want to have a big reception later, then we’ll throw them one.”

“Well, I can see that I’m outnumbered here,” Sandra said. She turned to Felicity. “Evidently we’ll need a cake to feed thirty.”

Felicity jotted down details in her notebook. “All right. Now that we’ve taken care of the wedding cake, we’ll need to decide on the groom’s cake. Most grooms like a chocolate cake, but we can do just about anything. Do you have any preference?” she asked Jack.

“Chocolate’s fine,” Jack told her.

“Great. Now what about the menu?”

Lily could feel herself starting to fade. Yet every muscle in her body was tense as Jack continued to rest his hands upon her shoulders. Suddenly she flashed back to that night in his hotel room. She’d been both nervous and excited when she’d first arrived at his room. She couldn’t remember how long she’d stood there waiting, debating whether or not to use the key. Sanity had returned for an instant and she’d turned around, prepared to go. Indecision had her still standing there when the door opened behind her. Jack had said nothing. He’d simply come up behind her and rested his hands on her bare shoulders. Then gently he’d turned her around, lowered his head and kissed her. And all thoughts of leaving had melted beneath the touch of his mouth.

“.we had talked about mini beef Wellingtons,” Sandra Cartwright was saying.

“Lily, do you want the beef Wellington?” Felicity asked.

“I tell you what,” Jack said before she could answer. “Mother, why don’t you and Felicity work up a menu? I’ve got a busy day tomorrow and I’m guessing Lily does, too. I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine with us. Right, Lily?”

“Right,” she said, grateful to him for arranging an escape.

He pulled the chair back for her, and Lily stood. “Just remember, no quiche, Mother. Lily and I are going to need you to help us with everything else.”

“All right,” Sandra said. “I’ll make the quiche Lorraine for you after the wedding,” she told her.

“Thanks,” Lily said. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Ten minutes later, after saying her good-byes and agreeing to speak with Felicity the next day, Lily was in Jack’s car driving through the iron gates.

“I’m sorry for leaving you to the wolves like that,” Jack told her. “Tom Carlton is an old family friend and he had some business to discuss with me before he left town. Unfortunately, it took a lot longer than I’d expected.”

“It’s okay,” she told him, because he seemed genuinely concerned. “I liked your family. They’re not at all what I expected.”

He glanced over at her. “Should I ask what you expected?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t expect them to be so … so nice to me. I mean given who they are and who I am and … and the circumstances.”

His expression darkened. “They’re just people, Lily. As for the circumstances, you didn’t exactly make the baby on your own. We both did. If they were going to be upset with anyone, it would be with me.”

“But—“

“But they’re not upset. The truth is I think my mother is excited. She’s been wanting a grandchild for years. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard her complaining that her friends are all grandmothers two and three times over and she doesn’t have even one.”

“Yes, I think I did hear her mention something about that.” Which had surprised Lily. “And she wanted to know what colors I was going to do the nursery in.”

“Speaking of that, we haven’t talked about where we’re going to live. I know you have your apartment and I’m sure it’s nice. But it doesn’t look like it’d be big enough for three of us.”

He was being so tactful, she thought. She knew her one-bedroom apartment was small. She’d already put in a request for a two-bedroom in anticipation of the baby. But she had been hoping to get a house, something with a yard.

“My house has more room and I thought, at least for now, we could live there. Then if you want to find or build something else after the baby comes, we can do that.”

Talk of moving to Jack’s house brought everything home again. She was marrying Jack Cartwright. She was moving to his home. She could feel the panic setting in again.

“If you’d like, we can swing by the place and you can take a look at it, see if there’s anything you want to change.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure the house will be fine.”

“But don’t you want to at least see it first—“

“Maybe another time. I’m feeling a little tired.” And more than a little worried about whether she was making the right decision—not only for her and the baby, but for Jack, too.

At the sound of Lily’s sigh, Jack looked across the seat at her. She had her head tipped back and her eyes were closed. He didn’t doubt that she was exhausted. What had started out as a casual brunch had turned into a marathon of wedding plans. Of course, he probably should have known that once they had agreed to have the wedding at the house that the woman would turn into a drill sergeant. Sandra Cartwright was not one to do things in half measures. When he’d walked into the library and seen the glazed look in Lily’s eyes he’d known he had to get her out of there.

She’d been a real trooper, he thought as he took the car out onto the interstate. He’d known she’d been nervous, that she’d had misgivings about marrying him. He’d had a few misgivings of his own, he admitted. As his father had pointed out, marriage was tough under ideal circumstances. Their circumstances were anything but ideal. The consensus was that people should marry for love. His parents had. So had a couple of his friends. He and Lily didn’t love one another.

But there was something there—chemistry, attraction, and … and something more. In the four days since he’d spotted her outside the counselor’s office at Eastwick Cares and learned she was pregnant with his child, that something had grown inside him. He cared about her. And not just because of the baby, he admitted. From the way she’d looked at him when he’d come into the library, he wondered if she had felt it, too.

She gasped.

Jack jerked his attention over to Lily. When he saw her rubbing her hand over her stomach, he felt his heart stop a moment. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

She looked over at him with those ghost-blue eyes. “Nothing’s wrong. And yes, it’s the baby. Our son or daughter is kicking again.”

Jack swallowed hard. He looked down at her belly and felt the full impact of her words. Their son or daughter. The life growing inside her was a real person. In four months’ time he would be holding his child in his arms. A tiny boy or girl whom he was responsible for. A tiny boy or girl who would call him Daddy. He looked up at Lily once more. “Does it hurt? The kicking, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t say it hurts. It’s more uncomfortable than anything. Although I have to admit, those kicks are getting harder as the baby gets bigger.”

He turned his attention back to the road. “Is there anything you can do for it?”

She laughed and Jack was struck at the lightness of the sound. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh, he realized. Even the night they’d spent together, she hadn’t laughed. There had been desire and passion and even some sadness he’d detected beneath her surface. But there had been no laughter. “Did I say something funny?” he asked, hoping to hear her laugh again.

“Being pregnant isn’t like the flu, Jack. The only cure is when the baby is born. But until then, ice cream seems to be the only thing that makes him or her settle down.”

“Ice cream? The baby likes ice cream?”

“I think so,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Or maybe it’s me. All I know is that when our little soccer player starts kicking, I haul out the carton of butter pecan ice cream and once I start shoveling it down, the kicking stops.”

Jack laughed. “So our kid likes butter pecan ice cream, huh?”

“Looks that way.”

“How does he or she feel about chocolate fudge?” he asked and flipped on his turning signal.

“I don’t know. Why?” she asked, sitting up straighter as he took the next exit.

“There’s this old-fashioned ice cream parlor not far from here. I thought we’d stop and let our little one decide if he or she is a butter pecan fan like Mom or a chocolate fudge fan like Dad.”

It turned out the baby liked butter pecan mixed with chocolate fudge. As far as he was concerned, the mixture was awful, Jack concluded as he turned onto the street leading to Lily’s apartment. Lily, on the other hand, had found the combination delicious. And he had felt as though he’d made it over a hurdle because she had been more relaxed with him. So he’d picked up a pint of each to take back to her apartment in the hope that the mood would continue. Once again, he thought of the ring in his pocket.

After pulling his car up to the curb of her apartment building and shutting off the engine, he went around and opened Lily’s door. He offered her his hand.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“No problem,” he told her as he shut her door. He retrieved the bag with the ice cream from the floor of the back seat.

“I’ll take that,” she said. “You don’t have to come upstairs with me.”

Ignoring her, Jack shut the door. “My mother and Grandmother Cartwright taught me always to show a lady to her door.”

For a moment, he thought she was going to argue, but then she decided against it, evidently realizing he had no intention of being swayed. Opening the door to the brick four-plex, she preceded him into the building and up the stairs to the second floor. He’d already expressed his concern about her climbing the stairs and she’d assured him the exercise was good for her and the baby.

When he reached the door of her apartment, she unlocked it, then turned to face him. “Thank you, Jack. I really did like your family.”

“And they liked you,” he told her because it was true.

“Well, then I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

He held up the bag of ice cream. “I think I’d better put this in the freezer.”

“That’s okay, I can take that—“

“Lily, I want to come inside.” She had yet to invite him inside her apartment, meeting him at the door each time he’d arrived. He knew she was uncomfortable. He didn’t blame her. But at some point, they had to get past the awkwardness.

“I really am tired, Jack.”

“I promise not to stay long.” When she hesitated, he told her, “This time next week, you’re going to be my wife.” He stroked her cheek with his fingers. “I’m not expecting anything from you. I just think it would be a good idea if we at least reached a point where we don’t feel uncomfortable with one another before we get married.”

“I know you’re right,” she said. “But it’s not like we’re strangers.”

“No, we’re not. We were drawn to each other for a reason that night and we made a child together. If this marriage is going to work, we’re going to have to learn to trust one another.”

“I do trust you, Jack. I’m just worried about whether or not we’re doing the right thing by getting married.”

“We are,” he assured her and held up the bag of ice cream. “But if I don’t get this in the freezer soon, we’re going to have a whole other set of problems.”

“The kitchen’s right through there,” she told him. “Excuse me for a minute.”

No doubt the bathroom was calling again, he decided. While she was gone, he took the opportunity to study her home. The place was small, smaller than he’d suspected, he realized as he made the short trek to the kitchen and put the ice cream in the freezer. It was neat, clean and colorful. Lily liked bright colors. He hadn’t known that about her. But given the orange print curtains and the dish towels on the counter, the lady surrounded herself with brightness.

She also liked fresh flowers, he noted, spying the arrangement of daisies on the kitchen table and the roses on the coffee table in the living room. Like the kitchen, the living room was small, but bright and cheery. There were lots of homey touches—an afghan on the end of the couch, shelves of books ranging from the latest Sandra Brown thriller to technical books on psychology. There were groupings of candlesticks and books on art and gardening. She liked the Impressionists, he decided, as he checked out two Monet prints. She’d made the place a home.

The only thing that he found missing were photographs. Unlike his and his parents’ homes, there were no photographs scattered about the apartment. There were no snapshots of a young Lily on Santa’s knee. None of her smiling and showing a gap where she’d lost her first tooth. No pictures of a teenaged Lily dressed for the prom. The absence of any family photos told him more about her than anything else he’d learned via background checks and talks with her. It also caused a tightening in his chest for the young Lily who had grown up without the one thing every child deserved—a family. And along with his aching for her, he couldn’t help but feel admiration.

“I’m sorry to take so long,” she said as she returned to the room.

Jack turned at the sound of her voice. “No problem,” he told her and had to keep himself from going to her and taking her in his arms. “I was just checking out your artwork. I see you like Monet.”

“Yes. Degas, too. Someday I’ve promised myself I’m going to make it to Paris and spend a week in the Louvre.”

“You don’t have to wait for someday. We can go after the wedding next week. We are entitled to a honeymoon,” he said and walked over to her. He took her hands in his. “What do you say?”

“I … what about work? We can’t just take off.”

“I’ll clear my schedule and I’m sure you can get some time off from the agency. So, shall I book us some flights?”

“I don’t think so,” she said and tugged her fingers free. She walked across the room. “I wouldn’t be comfortable traveling now … not before the baby comes.”

“Then maybe we’ll go next spring. April in Paris is beautiful. And when it rains, you can smell the chestnut trees. How does that sound?”

“It sounds lovely,” she told him. “Would you like something to drink? I have water, iced tea and soda. I’m afraid I don’t have any wine.”

“Iced tea would be great.” When she disappeared into the kitchen, he slipped his hand into his pocket and fingered the ring box. She’d grown up without family, without having anyone she could rely on but herself. He didn’t ever want her to be alone again. He would be her family, he and their baby.

“Here we go,” she said as she returned to the room carrying a tray with two glasses, a pitcher, a dish of lemons and a bowl with sweetener.

“Here, let me get that,” Jack said, and, taking the tray from her, placed it on the table.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked sugar or sweetener. So I brought both.” She poured them each a glass and handed him his.

Jack took the glass from her and set it down on the table. “Lily, I don’t want tea.”

She paused, set down the other glass.

“Would you come sit for a minute?” he asked and patted the seat next to him on the couch.

She did as he asked. “Is there something wrong? Listen, if you’ve changed your mind about getting married—“

Jack placed his finger over her lips. “I haven’t changed my mind. I wanted to give you this.” He took the ring box from his pocket and opened it. She gasped at the sight of the antique emerald-cut diamond ring set in the platinum band.

Her blue eyes shot up from the ring to his face. “Jack, I told you I didn’t need an engagement ring.”

“I know you did. But this isn’t just any engagement ring. It’s been in my family for nearly two hundred years and it’s said that all the women who’ve worn this ring have enjoyed long, happy marriages.”

“Jack, I can’t—“

“It belonged to my grandmother and has been passed on to the oldest male descendant in each generation. My mother was an only child and I’m her male descendant, so it came to me, to give to my bride. Since you’re going to be my bride, I’d like you to wear it.”

“Jack, I can’t. It’s not right. This is meant to be worn by the woman you lo—“

“It’s meant to be worn by the woman I’ve asked to be my wife. I’m asking you to be my wife, Lily.” He took it from the box and held it out to her. “Will you wear it? For me? For our baby?”

For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse. Then she held out her left hand to him.

He slipped the ring onto her finger and it fitted as though it were made for her. Maybe there was something to the Irish mysticism on his mother’s side of the family, he thought, because the ring looked right on her finger. It felt right.

“It’s beautiful,” she told him as she stared at the ring. She met his gaze. “I promise to take care of it.”

“I know you will.”

“It’s getting late,” she said and stood.

“Right,” he said and walked with her to the door. “I’ll call you in the morning,” he told her and before she could say anything, he leaned in and kissed her. It was just a brush of lips, no open mouth, no hunger and passion. Yet long after he had left the building, got into his car and was heading home, he could still taste her on his lips.

Long after Jack had left, Lily continued to lean against the door. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she brushed her fingers along her lips where Jack’s lips had touched hers. Unlike the kisses they’d shared that night at the ball, this one had been gentle, loving. It had been a kiss of giving, of promise.

He was marrying her because of the baby, she reminded herself. As she lowered her hand, the diamond in the ring caught and reflected the light. Lifting her hand, Lily stared at it. He’d given her his grandmother’s ring.

His grandmother’s ring.

It didn’t mean anything. It was for the baby, she kept telling herself. But she couldn’t shut out Jack’s face, the way he had looked at her, his deep blue eyes filled with warmth, with caring. She closed her eyes to block out the image, but he was still there. She could hear his voice, his words echoing in her ears.

It’s said that all the women who’ve worn this ring have enjoyed long, happy marriages.

It belonged to my grandmother … to give to my bride….

I’m asking you to be my wife, Lily. Will you wear it? For me? For our baby?

Opening her eyes, she stared down at the ring again. She had wondered many times how she would feel on this day. A wonderful man, a man who was handsome, kind and generous, a man of integrity, had asked her to be his wife. He’d slid an heirloom ring on her finger and asked her to marry him.

She should be happy. Her baby was going to have everything she could ever have wanted for it—a loving father, a real family. Her child would never be lonely or alone.

She thought of all that the ring symbolized. It didn’t feel the way she had thought it would, Lily realized, and swiped at the tears sliding down her cheek. Instead of feeling happy, she felt sadder than she had in a long time.

How could you have been so foolish, Lily? After all these years how could you let yourself get sucked in by the fairy tale?

Because that was just what she had done, she admitted. Sensible, practical Lily Miller, the woman who had lived her life without blinders, the woman who never deluded herself, had done just that. She had thought that when this day happened, when a man placed a ring on her finger and asked her to be his wife, that the man who had put it there would have done so because he loved her.