“Wow, you forget nothing, do you?”
“Nope. Now quit stalling and tell me where you want to go and what you want for a present,” Jenny said determinedly.
“I don’t know. I suppose I’d like to just have a fun dinner with friends. You and Andrew, Laura, Angie, Sheila and Peter, and of course Will.”
“I know! Why don’t I throw a dinner party at our place? It will be my first one there and we can have it catered or at least served so it isn’t so stressful. But I want to make your cake.”
“Just tell me when and I’ll show up.”
Jenny was a phenomenal party thrower—she was phenomenal at most things—and Liz’s birthday dinner that weekend was a tremendous success. She had it catered by Liz’s favorite southern restaurant and made a triple chocolate cake herself. She hung handmade streamers all around the dining room and she even made a ‘Who Knows Liz Best’ quiz for everyone to take after dinner. Laura gloated mercilessly when she won.
“Happy birthday, Ellie Mae,” slurred Laura as she wrapped an arm around her friend. “Who knew when I started babysitting you all those years ago that we’d still be friends today?”
Liz laughed. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Just a few.” She tried to sound authoritative but failed miserably.
Liz laughed and left her sitting on the couch to find her sister.
“Well, little sister, are you having a good time?” Jen asked.
“Of course. All my favorite people in one place, how could I not?” Jen smiled and Liz added, “Though I could be slightly happier if we cut the cake.”
Jen laughed. “All right. Everyone, it’s time for cake!” she called to the room.
Her friends sang off key and Liz blew out her candles, wishing for the perfect job situation to work itself out without giving her an ulcer, and everyone cheered when she blew out all twenty-four with one breath.
“This cake is divine,” Will said as he took a second piece.
“It’s our mother’s recipe,” Jen replied. “It’s always been Lizzy’s favorite.”
“She talked about opening a restaurant on the farm, and maybe a B&B, but it never worked out,” Liz added.
Will nodded silently, another piece of the puzzle that was Loretta Barrett slipping into place.
“Time for presents!” Andrew called.
Liz sat in front of the small pile and rubbed her hands together greedily. “Hmm, which should I open first?”
She plowed her way through the brightly wrapped boxes and shiny gift bags. Angie gave her a pair of earrings, Sheila and Peter got her a beaded scarf from a local handmade market, and Laura gave her a subscription to a wine club.
“Now that you’re not a student anymore—almost—you need to start drinking like an adult,” Laura said.
Jen and Andrew gave her a full spa day for the sisters to enjoy together—which Laura teased was a very selfish gift for Jen to give until Jen told her she knew Laura would probably drink most of Liz’s wine. Laura blushed while everyone laughed. At the end of all the other gifts, Liz looked to her husband and reached out her hands playfully.
“All right, Richie Rich, what did you get me?” She wiggled her fingers and giggled until he slowly slid a small square box across the table toward her.
A hush settled over the small crowd and Liz stared at the box suspiciously. She opened it slowly, looking slightly confused when there was nothing but a silver keychain inside.
“Um, thanks, Will. It’s cute.”
She smiled and held up the arrow-shaped fob for everyone to see. Sheila and Angie looked confused and disappointed, Andrew and Jen looked expectant, and Laura was starting to look green.
“Is it the arrow that pierced his heart?” Angie asked uncertainly, her voice hesitant and stilted.
Andrew was the first to laugh, and slowly they were all laughing together until William spoke over the noise.
“I thought it would make it easier to find this in those enormous bags you insist on carrying around.”
He held a key between his fingers and the room got quiet. “What’s it for?” Angie blurted.
Shelia elbowed her while Peter mumbled under his breath, “Not his heart.”
Will heard him and laughed, then took Liz’s hand and led her to the door. “It’s downstairs. Come on, let’s go see it.”
They all piled into the elevator and chattered excitedly about what the mysterious gift could be. Ideas ranged from a Vespa to a condo to an exotic pet kept in some sort of cage in the lobby.
As they walked out the front door, Liz became increasingly nervous. Will pulled her over to the side of the building and there, parked by the sidewalk, was a bright red BMW convertible with a huge bow on the hood.
Liz’s mouth dropped open and she stared at the car, unable to hear Angie’s shrieks or Jen and Sheila’s squeals of glee or Peter and Andrew exclaiming over the car’s various features.
“Are you all right?” Harper whispered in her ear. “You look pale.”
“It’s a car,” she said.
“Yes, it is.” He looked confused and pulled her away slightly. “If you don’t like it, or want a different color or something, we can change it.”
“Will! You bought me a car!” Her voice was shaky. “You can’t buy me a car. That’s an enormous gift! William!” She was almost pleading.
“I don’t understand what the problem is. I’ve given you gifts before and you’ve never freaked out.”
“Your other gifts were reasonable. Nice, expensive maybe, but not worth an entire year’s salary!”
“Lizzy,” he kept his voice low, looking to the side to see Andrew looking their way with a questioning expression. His friend seemed to understand their need for privacy at the moment and distracted everyone else. “You’re my wife. It’s expected that I give you gifts, and it really wasn’t that expensive. I know we have different ideas of what expensive is, but it’s not like I bought you an island! It’s just a car.”
“A Toyota is just a car, this is a BMW,” she argued.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you want me to return it?”
She felt guilty for being such a bad sport as she saw his expression: resigned, disappointed, and a little angry. She reached out and touched his arm.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to return it, really. I’m just shocked, that’s all. No one’s ever bought me a forty-thousand-dollar gift before.” She squeezed his forearm where it was crossed over his chest. “I do like it.”
“Really?” he asked skeptically. He wisely chose not to correct her assumption of the price.
“Really. I’ve always wanted a little red car, actually.”
“I know. That’s why I got it.”
“How did you know?”
“You told me. When we went away for Valentine’s you said you’d always wanted a little red convertible like your doll had when you were seven.”
Her brows raised. “You remember that?”
“Yes.” He looked to the side for a moment, then back at her. “You also wanted a blue house with a white porch, also like your doll had.”
Her expression melted into tenderness and she held his face in her hands. “You dear, sweet, wonderful man! I—— William!” This time his name sounded less like a reprimand and more like an endearment.
He finally smiled back at her. He knew she was being sincere by the twinkle in her eyes and he let some of his earlier excitement return. Liz rose up on her toes and kissed him softly, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly to him.
They separated when they heard cheering behind them and they both blushed as they faced their friends.
“Who wants to ride with me first?” Liz asked cheerfully. Every hand shot up and Will laughed behind her as she did eeny meeny miney mo to decide her passengers.
She squeezed his hand before she climbed into the driver’s seat. “Thank you, Will. This was incredibly thoughtful of you.”
> He smiled. “Wait until I get you home. I’ll show you thoughtful.” He waggled his brows suggestively and she gave him a saucy smile.
“I can’t wait.”
34
Busted
Mid- April
Nearly One Year Married
A few days later, Will was straightening his tie in his bedroom when he heard Liz come in.
“I thought you were going out with Sheila tonight?” he asked when she came into his room.
“We hadn’t even been seated when Peter called to say their son was throwing up and she had to go home,” she said with a disappointed frown. “I thought you were in Boston tonight.”
“I was planning on it, but the meeting cancelled. Are you free then? I’m headed to an engagement party if you want to throw on a dress and join me.”
She smiled. “Sure, just give me fifteen minutes.”
In record time, Liz changed out of her girls-night-out ensemble (tight jeans and a slinky top that hung off one shoulder) and into her wealthy corporate wife outfit (a silk cocktail dress and more diamond and sapphire carats than she could count.)
“Wow! That was fast,” said Will as he gave her a kiss on the cheek before helping her into a silk swing coat that matched her dress. “You look wonderful.”
“Thank you. It helped that my hair and make-up were already done.”
He glanced appreciatively over her smoky eye make-up and perfectly tumbled hair that she’d managed to tame slightly.
“Shall we?”
“Let’s.”
It wasn’t until they were inside an elegant upper east side apartment being served glasses of chardonnay in a sea of Armani and Chanel that Liz thought to ask whose party it was. She had gotten so into the habit of them—and the usual people she saw at them—that she hadn’t wondered. But looking around, she noticed very few familiar faces.
“Babe, whose party is this?” Liz asked Will quietly between introductions.
“Greg’s engagement party, he’s an old family friend.”
Before he could say more, they were approached by a vaguely familiar man with silver hair and a perfectly cut charcoal suit.
“William, I’m so glad you could make it! Elizabeth, you look lovely, as always,” he said kindly.
Elizabeth smiled and thanked him, not remembering who he was.
“Arnold, good to see you. Great party!” said William as he shook the older man’s hand. “Where’s Greg? I haven’t seen him yet.”
“He’s showing a new acquisition to his aunt in the library. He’d be happy to show you if you’d like to see it.”
“Thanks, I might.”
The man moved on to other guests and Liz asked, “Who was that? He looks familiar but I can’t place him.”
“That’s Arnold Billington, president of the publishing house. I suppose he’s your boss,” said Will with amusement.
“Is this his house?”
“Yes, Greg is his son. Why?”
“I just don’t want to run into anyone from work,” she said as she looked around the room for her coworkers.
“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that,” he said. “I doubt you’ll see anyone you know. Most of the people here are personal friends and the professional ones are so high up they’re not likely to have anything to do with interns.”
She nodded. “I hope you’re right.”
An hour later, she hadn’t seen a single person she’d recognized from work and had found a few women she was familiar with socially and was having a lovely time. Some of the men had slipped outside to smoke cigars on the stone terrace and the food and wine had the party feeling relaxed and jovial.
After listening to the bride tell her details of the upcoming wedding, Elizabeth joined Will where he was talking to Mrs. Billington, a lovely woman with faded blonde hair in a gorgeous red dress. Liz told her how much she loved the color and what a wonderful party it was.
“Thank you, dear, you’re very kind,” Mrs. Billington said with a smile. “Now Elizabeth, you must tell me where you found that dress. Those colors would look wonderful on my daughter, if I could get her to wear anything but black,” she said teasingly.
“It’s Dolce and Gabbana, their spring line. Will’s cousin in London sent it to me.”
“It’s lovely,” she said sincerely.
“Good evening, Mrs. Billington,” said a voice behind Elizabeth.
“John, how nice to see you again. You know William and Elizabeth?” Before anyone answered, she continued, “If you’ll excuse me, I must see to something in the kitchen.”
She walked off to where a caterer was discreetly trying to gain her attention.
“I don’t think we’ve met properly. John Shankman,” said the newcomer with a smile and an outstretched hand in William’s direction.
“William Harper. Do you work with Arnold?”
“Yes, I’m a senior editor at TPH.”
“Ah.” Will glanced at Liz and saw her wide eyes and shocked expression, but didn’t react in time.
Shankman followed his gaze and said, “Liz, I didn’t know the interns were here tonight. Fine idea.” He handed her his empty glass. “Get me a whiskey neat.”
She looked down into the glass, then at William’s quickly darkening countenance, and turned away, too surprised to say anything.
Liz walked away from her husband and boss, unsure of what she should do. Pretending she wasn’t married to William would be foolish and wouldn’t work anyhow. There were no other interns at the party, and she was clearly dressed as a guest. Why had Shankman thought she was working the event? Couldn’t she have been someone’s date? She was talking to the hostess when he saw her!
She waited her turn at the bar, requesting a whiskey for Shankman and a red wine for herself. With a sigh, she realized the game was up. She was officially caught out. If she didn’t say something to him, someone else would and that would be even worse. She could only hope that Shankman would be a gentleman about it and Will wouldn’t say anything to rile him.
William looked at Shankman with disgust clearly written on his face. Liz had told him enough about demanding editors and ridiculous errands, but the stories about Shankman had always been the worst. He was the only editor who had reduced an intern to tears (thankfully not Liz), and he had no qualms about making scathing remarks to and about the people working beneath him.
He’d thought Liz might have been exaggerating, but seeing the man’s smug smile as he watched Liz walk away, his eyes lasciviously trained to her ass, and Will thought she’d gone too easy on him.
“Damn smart of Billington to use the interns tonight. These things are always better with a few hood ornaments, aren’t they?”
“Excuse me?”
“That one’s a real firecracker,” continued Shankman. “Smart enough, I suppose, but with an ass you could crack ice on.”
“Smart enough?” repeated William in a tight voice. “Don’t the interns have to be at the tops of their classes to even get into the program?” He sipped his drink slowly. Shankman was quickly hanging himself, and Will wasn’t averse to giving him more rope.
“Yes, so the intern coordinator tells me. But the man isn’t blind!”
“I wasn’t aware the interns turned in photographs with their applications.”
Shankman laughed. William resisted the urge to silence him with a well-placed fist in his teeth.
Liz returned with Shankman’s whiskey in one hand and her wine in the other. William shot her a smile that had her very worried. She’d seen that look before. He always had it after closing a really good deal at work, or when he beat Jamison in a game of racquetball: a victor’s smile. This couldn’t be a good sign.
Shankman took the glass from her without any thanks, and he looked at her drink askance when she took a sip herself.
“Should you be drinking on the job?” Shankman asked in a voice that attempted to be teasing but fell short of the mark.
“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake, Mr.
Shankman. I’m not here to serve at the party. I’m a guest,” said Liz.
“A guest?” he asked incredulously, not bothering to hide his disbelief. “Did you come with someone?”
“Yes, I came with my husband,” she said calmly.
“You’re married?” he asked, surprised again, his eyes shooting to the rather large ring on her left hand.
“Yes,” Liz said more strongly, barely managing to not roll her eyes. Plenty of people were married. It’s not like she’d confessed to being a CIA operative.
Shankman looked at her with narrowed eyes, his lips pinched. “Who’s your husband?”
“That would be me,” said William before taking another sip of his wine. He looked at Shankman with steely eyes and moved to Liz’s side, placing his arm around her shoulders possessively. “Liz and I are about to celebrate our first anniversary.”
Liz knew this was bad. Shankman was quickly turning a color bordering on purple and she knew she’d pay for this come Monday, but he had been awful to her for months, and she had to admit that it was satisfying to see him squirm a bit.
Liz looked up at William and smiled brilliantly. “Best year of my life, babe,” she said sweetly.
“Mine, too,” he said. He turned his attention back to Shankman as he pulled Liz even closer. “It was great to hear your views on the intern program. I wonder if Arnold shares them? I’ll have to ask him at our next golf game.”
Will casually sipped his wine again as Shankman visibly squirmed, looking angry and frightened at the same time.
“Excuse us, I see a friend I need to greet.” Will barely nodded and led Liz away to another room.
“Wow. That was unexpected,” she said once they were in a corner by themselves.
“That man is a weasel,” hissed William.
“I know. Nobody likes him at work. Linda told me that Ian Mellen refused to work with him—that’s why such a big name is being handled by Mr. Watson. Shankman just looks over their notes.”
“Really? Does Arnold know all of this?”
“I have no idea. It’s his company, you would think he does, but maybe it’s beneath his notice.”
“It’s my company,” countered Will, “and that’s exactly the sort of problem that only gets bigger down the line. Shankman has no business being in that position—the man’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
Green Card Page 40
