Authors: Julie Ortolon
Suppressing doubt about her attire, she went downstairs. At the back of the house, an atrium connected the main house to the kitchen, which had originally been a separate building. She saw Hattie, the housekeeper, standing at the stove stirring a simmering pot and started to greet her, but checked the impulse. After years of working at the LeRoche mansion, Hattie rarely even made eye contact with her “betters.” The class division had always sickened Chloe, especially after spending time on Pearl Island. Aurora’s husband, Chance, came from money and he didn’t treat others as lesser humans.
Reaching the French doors, she stopped for a moment to take in the scene out in the garden. The white scheme of the house’s décor spilled over to the flower beds where white hydrangeas and azaleas bloomed in profusion against deep green foliage. Giant oaks shaded a flagstone patio that offered a variety of lounging and dining options. The small gathering of five people had divided into two groups, with the women sitting in club chairs while the men stood nearby with cocktails in hand.
DeeDee lounged in her chair with regal poise, wearing an ankle-length dress of eye-popping yellow. Clothes were where DeeDee’s obsession with white ended, and Chloe often wondered if her grandmother surrounded herself with white simply so she would stand out. In her seventies, her one concession to age was that she’d switched from hiding the gray in her mahogany hair to embracing it by going solid silver. In the yellow dress, accessorized with a tasteful selection of diamonds and pearls, she looked like a painting that could be titled
Silver and Gold
.
Diane, seated beside her, sported a gorgeous pantsuit in bright turquoise that had been precisely tailored to her model-perfect figure.
As Chloe watched, her mother tossed back her head with a laugh, and Chloe’s heart clutched unexpectedly at the sight. Her mother looked so beautiful with her long, dark hair pulled back in a chic ponytail that set off her big, playful earrings. The anger that had gnawed at her for days faded as memories of the good times they’d shared flitted through her mind. Chloe may have resented being yanked out of school and away from her friends every time Diane decided to dash off on a ski trip to Aspen, or a shopping trip to Beverly Hills, but having Diane for a mother hadn’t been all bad. There had been moments when Chloe managed to get her mother’s attention and Diane would focus completely on her.
To have a woman like Diane, so vivacious and alive, focus her attention on anyone tended to dazzle them. For Chloe, it had been like stepping into a beam of warm sunlight.
How different would their relationship be now if they had shared more of those moments? Her whole childhood, she’d yearned for her mother to stop running from one bright new shiny thing to another and be content with what she had. Why couldn’t having a daughter who loved her be enough to make Diane happy? Chloe’s eyes watered at the thought, but she blinked the moisture away. Crying over the past was a waste of energy better spent on shaping the present.
Diane smiled at something in the copy of
Modern Bride
she held. When she gave DeeDee a look as hopeful as an eager puppy, Chloe realized they must be planning the wedding. DeeDee shook her head and waved a hand, telling her daughter to look for something else.
Chloe saw Diane’s whining plea collide with DeeDee’s impatience. She could almost hear the argument through the glass.
Why won’t you let me have what I want?
Because we want a dignified affair.
But why does dignified have to mean boring?
Knowing DeeDee and Diane would be occupied with their argument for a while, Chloe turned her attention to the men, wondering which of the two talking to John was her mother’s next marital disaster.
The one who stood in profile she discounted instantly. He looked like a stocky, middle-aged boxer who’d taken too many hits to the face during his career. Her mother wouldn’t be caught dead dating a man like that. In fact, looking at his loud Hawaiian shirt and baggy slacks, she wondered what he was even doing here. A bodyguard, perhaps, for the fiancé? No, a bodyguard wouldn’t be drinking.
Dismissing him, she sized up the man who stood with his back to her. He had a tall, lean body that wore his casual but obviously expensive clothes well. His dull gray hair made him older than she’d expected, since her mother gravitated toward young, pretty men who liked to party as much as she did.
Then there was John, standing over six feet with the body of a much younger man and the bearing of a king. His salt-and-pepper hair framed a face that had always reminded her of a hawk: sharp, elegant, and lethal. Her stomach twisted, knowing he had the power to make or crush dreams, and he currently held her dream of a life on Pearl Island in his fist.
She drew in a breath and let it out slowly.
Stay calm and this will all be over soon
, she told herself. Pasting on a smile, she opened the French doors and stepped outside.
“Chloe!” her mother called out in a bright voice. “You made it.”
Everyone turned as Diane rose and hurried toward her, arms held out. Her mother’s broad smile gave Chloe hope that this wouldn’t be too bad. At least Diane seemed genuinely happy to see her.
When her mother’s arms went around her, Chloe closed her eyes and hugged back. She let herself savor the feeling for just a second. As a pang of longing filled her, however, she forced herself to pull back and shore up her defenses. “Yep,” she said with forced brightness. “I’m here.”
“God, I’m so glad you came.” With her back to the others, Diane let her smile drop as she took Chloe’s hands in a firm grip. “Thank you.”
Chloe arched a brow, suspecting the reason behind her mother’s desperation. “DeeDee?”
“If only that were all.” Diane closed her eyes as if she were holding on by a thread. “DeeDee I can handle. But this—” She shook her head. “Never mind. We’ll talk later. Come say hi to the dragon lady before I introduce you to Harold. I’ll get you a glass of wine.”
Steeling herself, Chloe went and kissed her grandmother’s cheek, breathing in the light, powdery scent of her perfume. “Hello, DeeDee.”
“Chloe,” DeeDee returned politely. Her welcoming smile slipped, however, as her gaze took in Chloe’s outfit. “You didn’t have time to change out of your jeans?”
“They’re designer,” Chloe countered, hoping she sounded breezy.
“They’re denim.” DeeDee frowned.
“By Armani.” Chloe accepted the glass of wine her mother offered her. “And I was too eager to see you to waste time changing clothes.”
Diane’s eyes shone with amused admiration as she lifted her glass in a subtle toast. Chloe hid a twinge of hurt by taking a sip. Couldn’t her grandmother, just once, say she looked nice? Acceptable was the best she’d ever achieved.
“You have been away a long time,” DeeDee sighed. “One would think Galveston were on the other side of the world with as little as you come to visit.”
Chloe hummed politely, thinking her life on Pearl Island actually was a world apart from this one.
“Well, at least you came for your mother’s wedding,” DeeDee said.
Chloe shot her mother a look of alarm since she’d agreed to come to the engagement party, not stay two whole weeks until the actual wedding.
Diane cringed apologetically, then turned up the wattage on her smile. “Come, let me introduce you to Harold.”
Chloe prepared herself to be polite. No good would come from her freezing the man out from the beginning.
John spotted her as they approached and gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Ah yes, the we’re-in-public-so-let’s-pretend-we-like-each-other smile. “Chloe. How wonderful to see you. It’s been too long.”
“I’m glad I could make it.” She smiled back with equal sincerity. Or lack thereof.
“I’d like you to meet Ian MacMillan, who’s going to be coming on board as the new head of accounting for LeRoche Shipping,” John said, indicating the gray-haired man.
Chloe puzzled over the name, since her mother’s fiancé was named Harold. Her confusion increased as the man turned and she saw he was even older than she’d thought. His gaunt face had bony cheeks and pale, piercing eyes. No way could this be Diane’s idea of Mr. Right.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said, extending her hand for a shake. Had the future groom not arrived? No, Diane had said she wanted to introduce her to him.
“And this,” Diane said, cozying up to the stocky man with the pock-marked face, “is Harold Bradford.”
Chloe’s jaw dropped. “
You’re
Harold?”
“’Fraid so.” Rather than take offense at her rude blunder, he laughed as he thrust out a hand. When she accepted it, he gave hers an enthusiastic shake. “I have that same reaction every morning. I wake up, look in the mirror and think, good God, where did that ugly mug come from?”
“I-I—” she stammered, wondering what to say.
“I’m thrilled to finally meet you,” he said, ignoring her shock. “And you, my dear, didn’t exaggerate.” He draped an arm around Diane’s waist. “She’s a stunner. Just like her mama.”
Chloe watched in shock as he pressed a quick kiss to Diane’s forehead. Her mother sent her the oddest look. It was somewhere between panicked and begging not to be judged.
She looked back, silently asking:
What the heck is going on?
“I’m just glad you’re here,” her mother said, her voice nearly cracking. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
“Yes.” John cleared his throat, his eyes telling Diane to watch what she said. “We weren’t sure Chloe could make it due to other obligations. As close as she and her mother are, she’s also very dedicated to helping her aunt run a quaint little gift shop in Galveston. Not that Chloe needs the money, but she’s always been one to take responsibility seriously.”
“Gotta admire that,” Harold said with the respect of a working man. Then he looked Chloe straight in the eye in a way that wasn’t the least bit threatening or calculating. It was frank but friendly, and genuinely interested. “How are your uncle and his wife doing? I was sorry to hear they couldn’t come.”
“They, uh, they...” Her mind raced. He knew about Scott? She looked to her mother for guidance, since no one was supposed to talk about Scott in front of John.
“I’m sure my brother is just fine,” Diane said with a very nervous smile. “But you know how writers are. So protective of their privacy when they’re working.”
“I can respect that.” Harold nodded. “I hope when he’s finished with this new book we can make a trip to Pearl Island so I can meet my new brother-in-law.”
“Yes, well—” Diane licked her lips. “We’ll see. Maybe when we get back from Paris I can call and ask Scott when would be a good time.” Diane turned to Chloe with her first genuine smile of the day. “Did I tell you I’m going to Paris for my honeymoon?”
Chloe just stared at her mother as the wording of that sentence sank in. Not, “We’re going to Paris for our honeymoon,” or even, “Harold’s taking me to Paris,” but “I’m going for my honeymoon.”
“Diane?” she said lightly. “Could I talk to you for just a minute?”
“Oh, honey.” Diane laughed. Her Southern accent always got heavier when she was nervous, drunk, or trying to coax someone into doing what she wanted. Since she didn’t seem drunk, Chloe knew it was either the first or the last. “You don’t have to be so formal in front of Harold. You can call me, uh, mom.”
“
Okaaay
. Mom. If I can tear you away for just a minute.”
“Harold, you don’t mind, do you?” Diane sent the man a flirtatious look.
“Not at all.” Harold gave her waist a squeeze. “Go spend some time with your daughter.”
Chloe turned and walked back toward the French doors, leaving her wine on a low table. She felt her mother following, but didn’t bother looking back until they were inside. After closing the doors, she turned. “What is going on?”
“Not here,” Diane said, glancing over her shoulder. The doors might block sound, but not sight, so Diane took her arm and pulled her through the atrium to the library. Being John’s domain, the room had a more masculine feel with an abundance of wood and dark fabric.
“Oh, Chloe, this is all such a disaster.” Diane covered her eyes as if on the verge of tears. “John is forcing me to do this. I keep thinking it’s all a nightmare and any minute I’ll wake up.”
“What do you mean, forcing you? Forcing you to do what?”
“Marry that man!”
“What?” Chloe pressed her hands to the top of her head as if it would explode. Bullying his daughter into behaving how he wanted her to was one thing. But forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want? “That’s ridiculous. He can’t force you to marry someone.”
“No, but he can cancel my credit cards,” Diane said. “And he did. All of them! Do you know how humiliating it is to go to lunch with friends and have the waiter announce in front of the whole table that a confiscation notice popped up when he tried to run your card? I may never live that down. This is so far beyond anything he’s ever done before. He’s taken away everything. Even my apartment.”
“Dear God.” Chloe stared at her mother. “You really did move back home.”