Unspoken (27 page)

Bryce walked into his house, skirted two boxes in the entryway, tennis shoes by the stairs. “Charlotte,” he called, “I’ve got pizza if you’re interested.”

“Be down in a minute.”

He slid the pizza in the oven to keep warm and went to find her upstairs. New art hung on the staircase wall, intricate watercolors, and he slowed to admire them. His home was filling with her collection of art to meld in with his furniture. He loved the results.

He found her unpacking. The bedroom suite she had chosen had good northern light, and the furniture she’d brought from her Silverton home fit it nicely. The door to the room’s adjoining bathroom was open, the counter was cluttered with her things, and she’d changed the floor rugs. The closet was open and three-quarters full of T-shirts and jeans, the occasional really nice dress, an assortment of shoes. A line of porcelain figures followed the mirror of her dresser, and a new thriller
was on the bedside table. Tomorrow this would be her home as well as his. His bedroom suite was two doors down on the other side of the hall. He found it notable—comforting too—that she hadn’t chosen the opposite end of the house.

“Ellie said two locks on the inside of the door.”

“I noticed. I won’t often need to use them.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “It’s been eight years since the last serious crisis, but the locks are a nice safety blanket.”

“What triggered it that time?”

“A party, loud music, a guy came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder, shouted a question I didn’t understand—just heard as a memory echo. Spent the next four weeks huddled at Ellie’s trying to remember how to breathe.”

“I don’t raise my voice, never have, will be careful never to.”

She nodded. “I noticed. I don’t shake easily, Bryce. I’m not going to care if I hear footsteps in the hall, doors being closed, water running, voices on the phone. I’m too accustomed to Ellie and John being around. Noise isn’t the problem. Startling me with a touch is.

“If I can’t sleep, I’ll throw the locks and try again to sleep. Sometimes my mind just needs that layer of control, of knowing my hand pushed the locks. I don’t dream. I’m told I don’t even snore. I sleep. But sometimes my mind is remembering without telling me what it’s remembering. So I lock the door.”

“I appreciate you telling me.”

“Boxes downstairs are the last of my books if you’ve got room on your shelves.”

“I’ll make space. The sunroom—it will work as a studio?”

“It’s perfect. It’s one of the items that went in the reason-to-get-married column. I love that room and that fabulous expanse of wall. Good lighting, a beautiful view, and I can push open the French doors and step outside anytime I want. That’s ideal.” She closed the suitcase and slid it into the closet.

“Do you have more items you want to bring over today?”

“This is the last of what I think I’ll need. I told Ellie I’d be back to her place around eight tonight. She’s out with John pretending like it’s a date when I know for a fact she’s got him helping her decorate the church for tomorrow.”

“He’ll enjoy being with her,” Bryce said. “Ellie’s enjoying this too.”

“And I’m letting her. She loves to organize things.”

Bryce carried the pizza box and paper plates to the back patio so they could enjoy the comfortable evening. Charlotte followed him with their drinks and napkins.

“Our last meal together before the wedding. What else do we need to talk about?” Bryce asked.

“I’m talked out, I think.” Charlotte settled into a chair at the table and helped herself to a piece of the pizza. “But there are a few things left on the list. We need to talk about the money—the details and logistics of it. But while I know the information, Ellie is better at explaining it. Would it be all right if she came over sometime and walked you through it?”

“Sure.”

Charlotte reached for a napkin. “She said the lawyer sent over the text formalizing what you and I discussed. Should something happen to both of us, the responsibility of the Legacy Trust will flow to your younger brother. Our estate outside the Legacy Trust will flow to your older brother, and my art will fall to Ellie. Should one of the three we’ve named be temporarily unable to serve, John will take the responsibility until they can do so. If the person we’ve named needs to permanently step aside, John will appoint someone from your family to take the role. And if John isn’t available, your oldest sister takes his place.”

“I’m still not entirely comfortable not naming your sister somewhere in the document.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Tabitha can’t handle the stress of it, Bryce. Nor can her husband. Your family is going to be fair to mine, I’m not worried about that.”

Bryce considered that, and nodded. “I’ll write a letter to be given to my family in case something happens. Something that will lay out my thoughts on the matter and your concerns, so they’ll have our wishes spelled out. But I agree. They would take good care of your family, Charlotte, no matter what we said or arranged. It would be an honor thing, as well as simply the right thing to do.”

Charlotte caught her napkin before the breeze carried it away. “I assume you’ve been thinking some more about the days after the wedding.”

He nodded. “On the practical side of it, I’ll be working from home, you’ll have a studio here. I don’t want to have an office someplace else unless it turns out to be absolutely necessary. I don’t want our life to be one where I see you for breakfast and again at dinner. I’d like to be able to share our days if it’s not going to disturb your work too much.”

“I’d like that,” Charlotte replied. “I’ll be away from the house at times, wandering around to see what I find interesting to sketch, but when I’m in the studio I’m mostly sitting at the drawing board working on a detailed image. I don’t mind interruptions. I can do eight to ten hours straight at the drawing board when I’m focused on something, so I need a reminder to get up and move around occasionally. I’ll enjoy having you around.” She reached for her drink, tilted her head as she studied him. “You’re going to need a secretary or assistant.”

“I need to give away a million dollars a day just to stay ahead of the dividends, two million a day if I want to get through giving
away the money in thirty years, so probably sooner versus later on the assistant. But I’m hoping I can recruit Ellie to help in the office when she has a few minutes to spare.”

“It would be a nice gesture if you asked.”

“I admire Ellie. She’s incredibly good at what she does. Charlotte—” he waited until she looked over—“consider it a standing request that we have John and Ellie over as much as we can arrange this next year. We need friends who know what’s going on, and John and Ellie are in that circle. I want the two of them comfortable walking in and out of our house without needing an invitation. It’s important that they be part of discussions and decisions about what to do, that they become as integral to our lives as they have been to yours. They visit us or we go visit them. I don’t want significant time gaps between times we see them.”

“I appreciate that, Bryce. And I’ve been thinking we really should consider telling Ann and Paul about the Legacy Trust, along with your immediate family. You’re going to continually feel the weight of the fact they don’t know. It’s not fair to you.”

Bryce shook his head. “It’s best if it stays with Ellie and John, at least for now. I can ask advice from my family about the giving without discussing our specific circumstances. The fact others in my family, other friends, don’t know about the trust is something I’m going to learn to live with. It’s easier if none of them knows. I’m not playing favorites that way on who we decide to tell, not tell.”

She thought about it and nodded her agreement. He reached for his drink. “What else is on your mind?”

“The Silverton house,” she said. “There was an offer on it this morning. I faxed my acceptance.”

“Someone got a good deal with the price you put on it.”

“They did. A family with two girls. They’ll like the house, and the girls will love that yard.”

“I’m glad.” He thought through their to-do list. The coins had been cleared from the vaults, the last of the family-owned items emptied from the berm storage units. Charlotte had sold Graham Enterprises to the employees, and he had sold controlling interest in Bishop Chicago to Devon and Sharon. Charlotte had found buyers for three of her stores and finished up the final matters with the New York lawyers. “That leaves the storefront next to Bishop Chicago as all that’s left to deal with.”

“Yes. It feels nice knowing we’ll start with close to a clean slate,” she said. “At least for one day, the weight of the estate is gone.”

Bryce smiled. “Enjoy the hours while you have them. You did a good job with what Fred entrusted to you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate you saying that.” Charlotte reached for another piece of pizza. “We haven’t talked about the dogs, but I would like John and me to go on sharing them. They deserve to have the freedom to run around Shadow Lake.”

“Princess and Duchess will be welcome in this house, Charlotte, whenever you want to have them here. I love your dogs.”

“They aren’t city dogs. Life for them is so much better when it doesn’t have to be lived on a leash. Shadow Lake is where they belong most of the time.”

He understood her decision, and decided not to press it. “Would you like apple pie for dessert? Mom brought it over.”

“Sure.”

He came back with a piece of pie for them both.

She considered him as she took the first bite. “How is your family handling the fact they won’t be at the wedding?”

“Mom and Dad understand. Mom especially. She said to tell you it was a wise choice. The others are disappointed, mainly puzzled. The current reasoning is you don’t want to invite your sister to the wedding for some reason, but can’t say that, so we’re
making it a private wedding with no family from either side to avoid creating problems.”

“An elegant conclusion.”

“I’ve neither confirmed nor denied the idea. My family will be fine.” Bryce toyed with his glass. “Is Ellie throwing you a last-night-single party?”

Charlotte blushed and dropped her gaze.

Bryce laughed. “I see it’s been rumored.”

“Our idea is more along the lines of ice cream and girl talk. What about you?”

“I was able to successfully fend off most of it with a promise of a guys’ weekend barbecue at a later time. Devon will be by later, Paul and Dad will call.”

“That sounds nice.”

She reached over and turned his wrist so she could see the time. “I should probably get going.”

Bryce rose to walk with her through the house. “Enjoy tonight. Try to get some sleep.”

“You too. I’ll see you at the church, Bryce.”

They both paused at the door, and she was the first to move, catching his hand to avoid a hug, then turning away even more quickly to head to her truck.

Bryce took his position at the front of the church near his pastor, John by his side. Four minutes early, the music Charlotte had selected filled the sanctuary. Ellie appeared first, stunning in a simple short white dress, carrying white roses. She walked the aisle looking both relieved and happy. John met her to escort her the last few steps.

Charlotte then appeared in the doorway, and Bryce took a deep breath and slowly let it out. For the first time that day he felt himself relax.

She was an absolutely lovely bride. She’d laughed about choosing a train that went on forever, and wanting the longest church aisle so she could enjoy it. She caught his gaze and they shared a smile. The gown was perfect.

The music changed. Charlotte began the slow walk down the aisle, carrying a bouquet of white roses wrapped in a red ribbon. Bryce took four steps into the aisle and met her to offer his arm.

T
urn a little more to the left, Mrs. Bishop. That’s it. Perfect.”

Bryce didn’t let himself look over to see Charlotte making the minor adjustments the photographer requested. They were forty minutes into the session he had hoped would take half that time, but it didn’t seem to be the photographer. He and Charlotte were simply having a hard time getting in sync for the wedding pictures.

“Now can I have a smile?” The photographer went still to take the shot, hesitated, faltered, and finally lowered the camera. “You seriously don’t like to have your picture taken, do you?”

Bryce broke pose to look at Charlotte. “We’re done, Aaron. Thanks.” He took her hands, found they had gone clammy. He stepped down a step and turned so he could be at eye level with her.

She gave him a weak smile. “Sorry. I don’t know if I’m suddenly hot or simply tired.”

“Won’t matter. We’ve got plenty of photos.” He kept hold of her hands while Ellie gathered together the train, then helped her off the stairs.

“I’ll help you change, Charlotte, and get you another bottled water,” Ellie said, taking charge. “The lights are hot in here.”

Bryce looked over at John as the women left the room. The man was frowning toward the doorway where Charlotte had gone. “That wasn’t heat,” Bryce said.

John met his look. “No, it wasn’t.”

Bryce pulled the car into the garage, noted Mitch pulling to the curb, and accepted the fact they were going to have security around for the rest of their lives. He understood Charlotte’s decision to simply let John handle it, to not want to know. The two men John had introduced him to were both like their boss, former military. They’d been part of the security around Charlotte ever since her grandfather showed up in her life. Now they would be around the two of them.

“Home at last.”

Bryce glanced over at Charlotte’s soft words, shared a smile. “It feels nice.”

Ellie had sent the roses and part of the wedding cake home with them, but otherwise pushed them out of the church with a hug and a laugh. She said she and John would handle the wedding dress and other final details. Bryce had wisely stopped for a low-key meal for the two of them on the way home, knowing Charlotte had been too preoccupied to eat much today, but would insist on helping if they were cooking at home. The dashboard clock said it was now twenty after nine.

“The luxury of not having the wedding on our to-do list anymore is its own form of bliss.”

“I’m feeling the same.” He came around to open her door, took the flowers, and waited while she retrieved the box with the cake. He unlocked the house door and reset security, still getting used to the upgrades John had installed. Charlotte walked through to the kitchen.

He tugged at his tie. She was looking for a vase for the roses.
Bryce opened a cupboard over the refrigerator and got one down for her.

“Thanks.” She arranged the roses and set them on the kitchen counter, smiled as she touched the white petals. “They should last a week or so.”

“I’ll replace them for you, if you like, when they begin to fade.”

She looked over at him, gave him a thoughtful nod. “For a few weeks that would be a very nice gift.” She took the rose he’d transferred from his tux to his jacket lapel and tucked it in the edge of the vase to reach the water. The rings she wore looked nice together. His bride. He felt more content at this moment than he had been in decades.

“I think I’m going to enjoy being Mrs. Bishop. It’s a very nice new name.”

“It sounds good on you.” He gently tucked her hair back behind her ear. “You won’t hear this suggestion from me often, Charlotte, even if I think it, but you’re exhausted—let’s save the conversations for tomorrow. It’s been a long day for both of us.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I am ready to call it a day.”

“I’ll lock up.” He reached for her hand. “But first—wedding present number one.”

She looked at the coin he handed her, then grinned. It was a production error, both sides of the quarter stamped with the face. “A two-front-sided quarter?”

“For when you want to flip me for something, but want to make sure the answer comes out your way. Use it sparingly, but well.”

She considered that, nodded, and closed her fist around it. “Thank you,” she whispered. She tilted her head. “How many presents?”

He smiled. “Seven. I believe in quantity.”

“As the recipient, so do I.”

“They’ll show up over the next week. Sleep well tonight, Charlotte.”

“I will.” She rested her hand on his arm, leaned forward, and softly kissed his cheek. “Good night, Bryce.”

He stood where he was, absorbing that gesture long after she had gone upstairs. She’d scratched the line “you may kiss the bride” from the service, and he’d been glad, for the nerves she had been feeling had been visible by the end of the service. This . . . he looked to where she had disappeared up the stairs. This had been personal and not driven by nerves. He quietly smiled. Baby steps. He could go a long distance with baby steps if the time was measured in months and years.

He walked through the house to confirm everything was locked, the security set, precautions he intended to make a habit now that Charlotte was in his home. He was a husband. He already liked the role.

“Bryce.”

He looked up from trying to unfasten his cuff link. Charlotte was in the doorway only a few minutes after they had said good-night. “Hey, come on in. Solve this clasp for me, would you?”

She hesitated, then came into the bedroom, looked at his wrist and figured out how the clasp was stuck. When she had both cuff links in her hand, she turned toward his dresser, saw the collection. She smiled as she slid the links into an open slot.

“My dad gave me the first set of cuff links when I turned eighteen,” he mentioned. “The card said,
A businessman should look businesslike
. They’ve been his gifts on birthdays ever since—cuff links or ties.”

“I like your dad. Can we talk for a minute?”

He studied her face, catching the strain, feeling the importance that she’d decided to have a conversation tonight, but not
sure how to ease the stress other than not to mirror it. “Sure.” He sat down to pull off his shoes. Tossed one into the closet, followed it with the other. She glanced around, then cautiously perched on the edge of his bed.

“Charlotte, it’s just a room. Get comfortable in here. I don’t have the habit of leaving the bathroom door open or walking around without being dressed. You want to chat for a few minutes, do me the favor of walking in, walking out, not worrying about it. I tend to watch the late news and read for a while at night. You aren’t going to bother me if you want to toss a pillow against the headboard, sit for a while, and offer a conversation topic. I like talking with you.”

“Maybe another chair.”

“There are plenty around this place. Choose one and I’ll move it in here.”

He picked up the pillow on the floor, handed it to her, and pointed to the chair he had vacated. “Not the most comfortable place to sit but yours for tonight.”

“Thanks.” She curled up in it.

He tossed more pillows against the headboard. “You ever need to wake me up, I’m not quite as easily startled as you. I won’t mind. But you might have to shake me pretty hard.”

“You’re going to regret offering that when I wake you up at two a.m. to go check on a noise I’m hearing downstairs.”

“The ice maker. I can already answer that one for you.”

He leaned back against the pillows and headboard and studied his wife. He did not know her expressions nearly well enough for his own comfort. “What’s on your mind, Charlotte?”

“I realized something today, when we were saying the wedding vows . . . for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health . . . I forgot to have a conversation with you. I didn’t mean to avoid it, not have it, I just tangled the subject with other things I don’t talk about and didn’t have it. So I came to apologize.”

“Apology accepted.”

She smiled briefly and said, “Maybe you should wait till you hear what it is.” He simply waited, and she rested her chin against her drawn-up knee. “I’m an alcoholic, Bryce. I was sixteen, they were both drinkers, and I could get my hands on scotch, sometimes vodka. I would have preferred pills, but they weren’t available, so I made do. I haven’t had a drink in eighteen years, don’t plan to ever have one, as alcohol is a trigger to memories I do not want to relive. I need you to help make sure the eggnog or the punch isn’t spiked with something when we’re at a party, even a bit. You definitely won’t like the flashback that taste is going to trigger, and I probably won’t walk away from the impact of it without a hospital stay.”

“Okay. Apology still accepted.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Charlotte . . .” He sighed. “That most certainly is the kind of thing you’re allowed to try to forget. Please don’t worry about it. I can help with your request, and I’ll be glad to do so.”

She uncurled herself from the chair.

“Please stay.” He motioned her back to the chair. “I don’t want you going to bed on our wedding night with that being the last conversation rolling around in your mind.”

She sat on the edge of the chair, looking surprised.

“I don’t mind the hard news. But neither of us need it being the last thing we talked about today.”

“Okay.” She curled back up in the chair.

He ran his hand through his hair. Thought for a bit, shook his head. “Stay put. I’m going to go brush my teeth, because I don’t have a single topic at the moment.” He got to his feet, pulled two of the pillows from the stack, and dropped them in her lap. “That chair needs a few of them. How about socks for those bare feet?”

“I’m okay.”

He nodded and turned on lights in the adjoining bathroom. He brushed his teeth, peeled off his socks and dropped them in the hamper. He checked the alarm clock out of habit, then made a point of shutting it off. “I’d like your Christmas wish list. Husbands have a notoriously difficult time shopping for Christmas gifts, so you can take pity on me for the first year and give me a list.”

“My Christmas wish list. In April.”

He tapped the notepad on the bedside table. “I’ll write it down.”

She gurgled a chuckle, then full laughter peeled out. She wiped her eyes as she struggled to get control. “Thank you,” she breathed, still smiling.

She rested her chin on her knee again. “I’d like a pair of shoes, please. Something red and shiny, so I have a reason to go find a dress I like that will match them. I take a size seven, or you can just have Ellie try them on—we wear and like the same shoes.”

He wrote it down.

“And I’d like a puppy figurine, something to go on my dresser with the others I have, about three inches tall, and cute, with kind of solemn eyes.”

“I noticed those.” He added it to the list.

“I need a new tote bag, canvas preferably, something that can hold a twenty-four-inch sketchbook, with a pocket inside I can zip closed—the twin to what I carry now would be ideal if they still make it. This one has lasted four years and needs replacing.”

When she didn’t offer anything else, he simply waited.

“Could you find those cream-filled cakes, the ones with chocolate on the outside? And cookie-dough ice cream.”

He smiled and wrote it down.

“That would be a nice Christmas.”

“Thank you.” He dated the list, added more numbers, then glanced at her. “Would you like my list?”

“No. Ellie and I like to shop. You’ll like what we find.”

He smiled at the way she said it. “Okay.”

He set aside the pen. “Feel better?”

“Yes.”

“You were more than lovely today, Charlotte.”

“Thank you. I forgot the white slippers that went with the gown.”

“I noticed.”

She tugged a pillow up to cover her face, peeked around it. “Tell me Ellie didn’t notice I was barefoot.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He crossed his heart.

“If I had sent Ellie to get them for me, the service would have been late, and that would be worse.”

“I’ll have something to tease you about for fifty years. And if that’s the only thing that went wrong on our wedding day, it was a very nice day.”