by Ginny Baird
She couldn’t believe it. This was a marriage of convenience, pure and simple. But what did Jackie have to gain? Oh yeah, right. The life of privilege and luxury she’d always wanted.
Although, Jackie wasn’t exactly poor nowadays, so why had her sister sunk so low? Didn’t she believe herself capable of achieving more? Of finding a man to really love her?
There’s no way this was just about him being an Albright.
Brent shoved his hands in his pants pockets and shook his head. “We can call this whole thing off right here and right now, if that’s what you want.”
“No.” Hope’s throat constricted at the thought. She was here to save Jackie’s upcoming wedding, not trash it in less than two hours. “That’s not what I want,” she said, breaking a sweat. “I just think I…need to lie down.”
“What? Are you getting sick?”
“Just a small headache.” She grimaced. “I felt a twinge of it earlier but forgot to take something for it.”
“Maybe you should rest before dinner?”
“That’s what I’m thinking, too.”
“We’re not done with this discussion,” Brent said. “There are things we need to talk out.”
“Yeah, of course.” She massaged her forehead and winced. “Later.” Like Tuesday, when her sister could deal with the fallout on her own.
“Sure.” Brent gave a worried frown and motioned for her to descend the stairs before him. As she did, she turned and glanced over her shoulder.
“Do you think I could borrow your laptop for a bit?”
“Not now, you can’t,” he replied. “Staring at a screen is the last thing you need to do with a headache brewing.” And then, seeming to read her, he added, “I’m sure the Martin wedding is doing just fine without you. No doubt Rachel has it all under control. Why don’t we see how you’re feeling after dinner?”
Hope’s stomach soured at the thought of having to sit around that table with Grandmother Margaret watching her like a hawk. It was bad enough when she thought Brent actually loved Jackie. Now that Hope knew that he didn’t—and that Jackie didn’t really love him—it would be even harder to keep up the ruse. She really needed to talk to her sister. Somehow. Posthaste.
“My stomach’s a little queasy,” she replied honestly. “I’m not so sure I’ll be able to make dinner tonight.”
Brent paused on the stairs. “You really are feeling miserable, aren’t you?”
“I’m sure I’ll be better by tomorrow.”
“Maybe we should call off that run?”
Yes. “That might be a good idea. Just until I’m feeling better.”
“Okay. We’ll go Tuesday.”
“Right. Or maybe even Wednesday.”
When they reached the foyer, Brent looked her over one last time. “Get some rest.”
Hope nodded, desperate for some alone time. So she could freak out all by herself over her sister’s pending marriage of convenience.
What on earth had Jackie done?
Chapter Five
Brent, his parents, and his grandparents sat at the dinner table. Two of the chairs with place settings were empty.
“I was hoping her headache was minor,” Brent said, “but it’s apparently not.” He worried about the misunderstanding they’d had, thinking he might have caused it.
He took a bite of his food, distracted momentarily by its savory flavors. The rosemary-sage rub his dad had used had been made with fresh herbs from the garden. “This lamb’s delicious, Dad. Thanks for cooking.” Which Parker was prone to do occasionally, flexing his culinary muscle.
Grandmother Margaret scrunched up her face, digging into her own dinner. “I would think not eating would make her headache worse.”
Elsa nodded. “I’ll make up a plate for Jackie. Brent can take it to her after dinner.”
“What was the holdup with the mother again?” Grandpa Chad asked, eying the empty seat beside him.
“She’s had a car emergency,” Brent explained. “Something about a faulty starter. She expects to have her car back tomorrow.”
“They have car rental places in Bangor, I hear,” Margaret said.
“Perhaps she prefers not to rent, Mother,” Parker cut in. “And anyway”—he shrugged—“it’s only one more day. She’ll get here with the others.”
“We look forward to meeting Jackie’s sister,” Grandpa Chad said.
“When she gets here, of course,” Elsa added. “We hope she’s feeling better soon, too.”
Grandmother Margaret picked up her wine. “Are they normally sickly? The Webb girls?”
“Margaret,” Chad reprimanded in low tones, and Brent’s neck steamed. What was it with his grandmother? Her finding fault with Jackie had begun in Boston and hadn’t let up since.
She turned to her husband, wearing a smug look. “It’s a relevant question. We Albrights are all of sturdy stock. There will likely be babies in the mix one day.”
Now she was carrying things too far, mentioning kids when that was a sore point between him and Jackie. Not that his grandmother knew anything about that. Though sometimes it was like she had a weird sixth sense.
Brent set his napkin on the table and scraped back his chair.
“You know what?” he said, standing. “I’m suddenly not very hungry.” He headed for the kitchen, leaving the others looking stunned. While Brent was all for respecting his elders, he didn’t need to let one of them drag his fiancée through the mud. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take Jackie her food now, while it’s still hot. I’ll save mine for later.”
His mom started to stand to help him.
“Keep your seat, Mom. I’ll get it.”
“You’re sure?” she asked.
“Yeah, thanks.”
As Brent left the dining room carrying his still-full dinner plate, he heard low whispers behind him. A few of them sounded cranky, and he guessed his dad and grandpa were scolding Grandmother Margaret for her behavior.
Brent wasn’t sure why Margaret had such an intense dislike for Jackie, but she certainly wasn’t making this wedding week any easier. And it had scarcely begun.
…
Brent cut across the back lawn, carrying the eco-friendly food-storage container holding Jackie’s dinner. He still felt terrible about their talk this afternoon and how it ended. He’d thought that he and Jackie had a mutual agreement and that both of them had decided this marriage would be great for their careers. Not exactly terrible for them personally, either.
Now, he found himself questioning the basics of the arrangement they’d made. He’d told himself he wasn’t being selfish—more like equitable. It wasn’t only his career that would benefit from this union; he could help her advance hers, too. But he’d obviously missed something very important. He’d failed to see the cards laid right out in front of him.
It had taken Jackie coming to Blue Hill for him to see her softer side, the vulnerable part of her personality that was obviously crushed by this marriage of convenience. Just because things had started out that way didn’t mean they had to end there. It might be last minute, but it wasn’t really too late to make a change. To really try to do this right and work on them forming a real—and loving—relationship.
Then Brent could prove to his family, once and for all, that Grandmother Margaret’s speculations were wrong. He could also prove something critical to himself—that he was capable of opening up his heart again. After Amanda, he’d had only casual relationships and, despite his good education, fleeting forms of employment.
He’d always been afraid to take chances, which was one reason he’d had such difficulty cementing a career. When you decided to pick one thing and stick to it, you were making a commitment. Up until now, Brent hadn’t totally been a commitment kind of guy.
But he was ready to change all that now.
<
br /> He was making a bold move in taking over Albright Enterprises.
He also wanted to make an honest effort with Jackie. Because the cold truth was, if Brent couldn’t give his heart to the woman he intended to marry, then he shouldn’t be marrying at all.
Dusk closed in, and a dark purple curtain hugged the water as night creatures chirped and hummed. Soon the stars would come out with moonlight glistening against the bay.
He found himself wishing he could share all that with Jackie. That it could be just the two of them with a couple of glasses of wine on the deck of the cozy carriage house, which had a pretty outdoor gazebo accessible from the deck and on the far side of the hot tub.
That gazebo was also a great place for watching sunrises. While he’d never considered it before, sharing sunrises with Jackie suddenly sounded like such a perfect plan. Which was obscenely mushy and so not like him.
He didn’t have a mushy bone in his body. He was rock-solid through and through—tough enough not to need anyone that badly. He’d learned his lessons about “needing” from Amanda. But, suddenly, Amanda seemed so long ago, and he found himself wanting to move forward.
He knocked at the carriage house door, wondering if he should come back later, but then the door cracked open the tiniest bit.
He could see just a sliver of her face, including one big brown eye.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said hoarsely. “I hope you weren’t sleeping.”
“No. Just resting my eyes.”
“I brought you something to eat. This lamb dish of my dad’s is the best.”
She slowly pulled back the door, accepting his offering.
Brent saw she’d changed into athletic shorts and an oversized T-shirt that said “Dancing Queen” in bright pink letters with a small pink tiara above the script. It was undeniably offbeat and cute, and he’d never seen it before.
“Thank you.”
“I—” Brent awkwardly cleared his throat. “I mean, I know now’s not a good time… But later?” His forehead rose with the question. “Maybe we can talk?”
“Yeah, um, sure.”
“I hope you feel better in the morning.”
“Thanks. Me, too.”
“And Jackie?”
“Yeah?”
“I wanted to let you know—I don’t blame you for what you said earlier. About the ring…the way I proposed…all of it.”
“We made a deal,” she said solidly. And still, her lips trembled.
Brent was starting to see it was a rotten one at best. “Yeah, well. Deals can be amended.”
“I’m not sure what you’re saying.”
“I’m glad that you came clean with me. Because, you know, I don’t think it’s too late to make things work.”
She toyed anxiously with the food container, tilting it in her hands. “Too late? No, of course not. We have…until Saturday.”
“Then, hopefully, the rest of our lives.”
Jackie blinked up at him, and Brent’s heart pinged. He could read the doubt in her eyes—the hurt and confusion, too—and he hated himself for making her feel this way. But he was already formulating a plan to make things better.
Even if he couldn’t convince Jackie to fall head over heels in love with him by the weekend, he could at least give her a good start in that direction. He could do this thing. Become the sort of guy Jackie could really care for. And he was determined to pull out all the stops to make that happen.
“Just give me this chance, and I promise you, I won’t let you down,” he said, growing more confident by the minute. He was great at tackling challenges and could do almost anything when he put his mind to it. “By this time on Saturday, you’ll be crazy about me.”
…
Hope stared down at the dinner container in her hands.
What had she gotten herself into?
What have I gotten Jackie into?
So much was going on here, Hope could barely keep up. First, she’d learned about that terrible marriage of convenience idea and her sister’s decision to settle. Next, Brent’s saying that he’s going to do better and change all that so he and Jackie could really make things work. And the look in his eyes when he’d left the carriage house… Whoa. He seemed seriously on board with making that thing about Jackie falling in love with him happen.
Hope peered out the window up the path as Brent rounded the corner by a bayberry bush. She told herself not to panic so she could think straight. Maybe she shouldn’t have lost it in the main house with Brent when they’d had that discussion, but then, maybe in some unexpected way, her getting emotional had been a good thing.
It had to be her reaction to that horrible proposal on a napkin and the whole stupid marriage of convenience scheme that had set him off and got him thinking. And now, he was determined to really try and develop a better relationship with Jackie.
Okay then. The big mess that she’d made since she’d gotten here wasn’t really such a huge fiasco after all. She’d helped her sister, in fact. In a major way. Whew.
Delicious smells tempted her, and Hope peeked into the food container, ravenously hungry. The lamb looked tasty, but there was so little of it. At least there was a big helping of veggies. It would have been even better if the meal had included something starchy, like an enormous baked potato with butter and sour cream. Just the thought made her stomach rumble.
She set the food container on the counter and reached into a cabinet for a dinner plate, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself.
This is great. Things are super. Perfectly fine.
When Jackie got there on Tuesday, she’d find Brent a new man. Someone who was all about romancing his bride. Surely that wasn’t a bad thing.
On the contrary. Only good could come of this situation. Totally great things.
All she had to do was find a way to warn her sister about what was going on so she wouldn’t be caught off guard by Brent’s new agenda.
She needed that laptop.
…
Hope could see the upper two stories of the main house from the front stoop of the cottage. She waited patiently until the last interior light went off on the second floor.
It took Brent longer to turn in on the third floor, and she wondered what he was doing. She hoped it wasn’t using his laptop, because she was counting on that still being in the den downstairs.
Finally, his bedroom light switched off, too.
Hope set the mug of herbal tea she’d been drinking on the stoop railing and grabbed the flashlight she’d found in a kitchen drawer.
She flicked it on to step off the stoop, and gravel crunched beneath her shoes. While it was doubtful anybody could hear her, she still needed to be careful, as she’d noticed a few open bedroom windows upstairs.
She edged her way up the path, the flashlight’s bright beam trained on the ground while moonbeams swept against the wraparound porch.
Cool breezes rippled off the bay, causing gooseflesh to rise on her bare arms and legs. Brr. Chilly. She should have worn her sweatshirt. There was no bothering with that now. She was already halfway to the house and needed to keep going before she lost her nerve.
A few dim lights resonated from inside the kitchen.
Through the dining room window, she spied a glimmer of light streaming in from the connected room: the den. Hopefully nobody was up late watching television or reading in the library.
As she cut across the back lawn and approached the rear porch, she was relieved to see that the TV beyond the French doors was turned off. The den appeared empty, with only one small light burning on an end table. Shadows crept into the den from the darkened library on its right side, indicating that room was deserted, too.
Hope gathered her courage and climbed the brick stairs.
Then she stepped onto the wooden porch—and it creaked.
>
She froze, her heart pounding. During her stealthy approach of the house, she’d forgotten to check Brent’s bedroom window upstairs to see if it was open, but she suspected it was.
She counted to twenty, her pulse thrumming in her ears.
There. Up ahead. She spotted it.
Brent’s laptop lying on the coffee table, exactly where he’d left it.
Now, all she had to do was sneak into the house, log onto her email account, and send a quick message to Jackie.
Yeah, right. Assuming Brent’s computer isn’t locked with a password or anything.
She squared her shoulders, determined to forge ahead.
A trickle of sweat ran down her left temple as she pressed the door open. Just a small bit at first, and then widely enough for her to slip through it, shutting it at her back.
“Jackie. Hi. I thought I heard someone in here. What are you doing?”
Hope’s chin jerked up, and she saw Elsa watching her from the doorway to the dining room, dressed in a checkered bathrobe and holding a tall glass of milk in one hand.
“I…er….um.” Hope frantically scanned the laptop and met Elsa’s gaze. “Was just feeling a little queasy, so I thought I might find some ginger ale?” She gritted her teeth, trying hard not to look guilty. “I didn’t want to wake anyone.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Elsa waved her toward the kitchen. “Come with me. We’ll get you some soda crackers, too.”
Hope hesitated about following her. Maybe she could still finagle using Brent’s laptop later, or even sneak it back to the carriage house with her when no one was looking. “Uh, right. Okay.” She clutched her stomach dramatically, then said, “Thank you.”
Elsa reached into the pantry, producing a box of crackers and a small bottle of ginger ale. Next, she grabbed a glass from the cupboard and added ice to it before pouring the soda in.
She arranged the crackers on a plate and then handed it to Hope along with the drink. “Maybe you should sit for a minute?” she said, indicating one of the two blue-and-white gingham checked chairs situated in front of a bookshelf holding cookbooks.
The tiny table nestled between them held ship’s-wheel coasters.
