He held out a hand to accept her manicured, soft fingers. A kiss to the back of her hand, then the palm, then the fingertips. Her sigh sent a thrill through his blood. Still his Misty. “You really know how to make an entrance.”
“Grandma’s idea.” She darted a glance out the door. “They in the car already?”
“My pop collected her.” He gathered her slip of a waist in his hands, and placed a subtle kiss where her shoulder and neck met. Her shoulders gave a shimmy and shake. Skin warm.
Delightful.
His.
“What is it?” She tilted her head.
Her questions brewed in her jade green eyes. He tugged at his collar, bowtie hugging his neck. “Ask me later.” I’m a goner. But, what a way to go…
Cain hooked his arm through hers and turned her to the door. “Nervous?”
She paused just inside the threshold, worry knitting her brow. “I don’t know if I can do this…”
“You’re not just an I anymore.” He grinned, brushing the line of her regal jaw with his thumb. “You’re part of a we.”
“Together?” She searched his face, and looked straight into his soul.
“No way you’re getting rid of me now. Let’s go.”
****
As the black Town Car sat in traffic, Cain drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel. There were so many people here already. Banners hung from the pillars at the entry to Almond Valley College. He recognized the one sheet from His and Hers. About the other films he was less familiar. Still, it was obvious who was the guest of honor. America’s sweetheart—Nona Darling—who sat, stately and elegant, in the back seat of his car, hand clasped sweetly in his grandfather’s.
Wasn’t life a kick?
Beside him, Misty tapped her thumbs across the cell phone as she rapid-fire texted with someone.
He watched out of the corner of his eye until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Who are you writing to?”
“My sister, Evelyn. They’re on the portico, waiting for us.”
“They?” He swallowed.
Misty nodded. “She’s there, with my parents. They came in this afternoon.”
Cain took a deep breath and offered what he hoped was a casual grin. “All this going on tonight, and I get to meet your parents too?”
“And my sister.” Misty raised her brows, a faint smile touching her glossy lips. “She’s more picky than either of them.”
“A triple-whammy.” He joked, re-flexed his fingers around the steering wheel, and dragged away his attention from his sexy blonde date in the passenger seat. Things had managed to run pretty smoothly so far. Now was the time the rubber would meet the road.
“Tell me again what Todd looks like,” he asked.
Misty launched into a description but he’d heard it before. Tall. Broad shouldered. Stocky build. Hollywood boy, pompadour hair or some such thing. Probably stood a whole head taller than Cain, as that was how he’d lived most of his life. He’d managed to convince himself that looking a girl straight in the eye was a good thing. Still, tonight he wondered if he shouldn’t have gone to the gym a few more times last week. Last month. Heck, in the last year! Too much time spent at his guitar, and not enough on his physique or appearance. That was okay, too. Misty liked him for more than looks. She dug his music. He made her laugh. Todd, it sounded like, just made her cry.
Cain fought the scowl as traffic started to move again. He one-hand-steered, and wrapped his fingers protectively around Misty’s. They went a few blocks more, and then stopped at a red light.
Somewhere out there in that crowd lurked a viper in paparazzi clothing. Not bad enough that the guy intended to bring down one of the most lovely women in the world, he was also the ex-boyfriend of the gal Cain intended to marry.
His frown rapidly upgraded to a broad smile, relaxing at the thought of his own good fortune. The guy didn’t know what a gem he’d let slip away. He’d never make that mistake with Misty. “You know, I was thinking…”
She turned to him, then looked away—distracted by her chirping phone. “Hold that thought.” Another text came through. Misty fumbled with the device. “Why I ever agreed to carrying this thing I’ll never know!” Her laugh matched her shrug. She obviously enjoyed the text exchange. “Not that I didn’t appreciate it. Just managed to go the past six months without one…”
“Welcome back to the land of the living.” He cleared his throat. “Diane again?”
“No. Alfred.” She focused, tap, tap, tapping her thumbs. “They’re good to go at the theater.”
He drummed the wheel. No amount of swallowing would wet his throat. His hand darted again to the pocket of his coat. Still there, he gulped. How many times could a guy check the same pocket? A bead of sweat formed at his temple. The tiny velvet box lay, waiting, where he’d placed it earlier this evening.
When he’d awakened that morning, he had no intention of asking her today. A proposal had only been mildly on his radar since his and Pop’s talk the night before. He had the ring. Now, the timing was up to him. But, that day, they’d walked the property.
Cain showed him the operation. How they’d modernized the presses. The vats and casks of oil. How the tasting bar had been popularized. How the concerts brought in traffic, and increased not only sales, but helped Mom with her catering. The old man, in turn, peppered him with questions. About what Cain wanted most out of life. Did he want to sell olive oil forever? What about his degree? His music? About what was most important.
All of his answers cycled around Misty. Her dreams. Her hopes and aspirations. His desire that she’d want to stay in this corner of the world for awhile, and that she’d learn to love the family business as much as he did.
The old man laughed, and then muttered in rapid Italian. Cain had caught only a few words but quickly realized the intent later, when his grandfather asked him if he’d brought the ring right before they’d left to pick up the ladies.
Buona fortuna, he’d said. Good fortune. Good luck. Boy, Cain thought, tugging at the bow tie again, he was sure gonna need it.
****
Misty took Cain’s hand and stepped from the Town Car. Diane hadn’t lied. The red carpet spread out from the curb, along the wide sidewalk and up the granite stairs to the portico of the theater building. Red velvet ropes held back the throng of onlookers, some passersby, others who looked like they’d been waiting for hours to view the arriving guests. Banners, displaying Grandma’s image and block letters announcing the event, waved in the warm evening breeze. Above the double doors, a gorgeous floral arch, bedecked in film reels, negative tape, and gardenias paired with white roses—a noble entrance to this regal affair.
Flashbulbs burst and blinded. She did her best not to flinch, to keep her smile easy, Misty kept expression practiced. Experience taught that she tended to look like a crazed banshee if she showed too many teeth.
Turning, she stood alongside the car to grant the paparazzi fair view. Grandma Nona exited the vehicle, Anton right behind. Misty spoke to the event producer—headset clamped to his ear—who then relayed that the guests had finally arrived. Another student leapt behind the steering wheel and set off to park the car, leaving the four to maneuver themselves down the red carpet between the ropes.
Long Valley put on quite the show for its own. The crowd of fans, most middle aged, some younger, many older, all present in support of Nona Darling—who practically floated, seeming to drink in the energy of the crowd. Misty’s breast filled with warmth and admiration for her grandmother. After avoiding the limelight for so long, she now bathed in its glow.
There, Mr. Wiggersham waited at the edge of the portico. Misty saw Evelyn in her stunning amethyst form-fitting dress. Mom and Dad waved, looking like two halves of the same coin. Both fair haired and green eyed, Dad in a sharp tuxedo and Mom, perfectly coifed, wearing vintage black Chanel. Misty clutched Cain’s arm all the tighter, pointing them out with her stare.
“The parents?” He spoke between his clenche
d teeth.
She nodded, and then noticed Evelyn pointing a hasty finger toward the edge of the stairs. Misty followed her sister’s line of sight, and a chill erupted from head to toe.
Out the corner of her eye, she saw Cain knit his brows. He must have realized what struck to her core, turning to find the source of so much grief. Todd stood at the edge of the velvet rope, a pit viper, lying in wait.
“Which one is he?” Cain’s question rumbled, low.
“I don’t…I can’t…” Misty gulped, as she began to hyperventilate. The telltale signs of panic tunneled her vision. Her cheeks went cold, hands sweaty and numb, as the blood rushed out of her extremities.
Cain held on to her elbow, and then turned her to face him. “Look at me,” he commanded.
She nodded, swallowing, throat desert dry. Her gaze locked onto him, this level-headed man who for some reason had been there through this entire journey.
They stood, hands clasped, several feet now behind where Grandma and Anton worked their way through the crowd. Hands waved. Voices called. Somewhere, a band played a Dean Martin crooning tune spelling out L-O-V-E.
“I’m not going anywhere.” His gaze didn’t waver. He remained focused on her, an immovable force. “Understand?”
“Yes.” She focused on his strength. His presence. So sincere in every regard, she knew he told the truth.
“No matter what.” Cain ignored the world, his full attention, hers alone. He nodded. Hand securely fastened to her elbow, he marched her up behind their grandparents. “Ever.”
As she found her voice, she nodded. “Let’s do this.” Head high, Misty took a step forward, and then another, a bit more steady. Soon, she only had Cain lightly by the arm, steady in the knowledge that she’d never falter again.
“Misty!” She heard Todd’s voice ring out over the crowd noise before she saw him. His wide, dark eyes held a devilish gleam. A shark’s smile as he saw she’d noticed.
He wanted to shake her. To rattle her to the core.
“Misty Darling!” Todd shouted over the din. “Over here!”
Misty took a deep breath, keeping her smile even and nodded to her nemesis. “Hello, Mr. Rhenquist. Nice to see you.” Her voice rose over the racket, she offered him a slight wave, imagining her queen to his commoner.
“There’s a problem with my ticket…” He started toward the barrier, waving the envelope.
Several red-jacketed fraternity students soon halted his progress.
“Sorry to hear that, but we’re on a tight schedule.” Misty tapped her watch-less wrist, offering a vaguely apologetic smile. “We’ll speak after.”
They glided on up the stairs, Cain holding back a deep belly laugh.
Misty bubbled up with giddiness. She’d done it. They’d done it. Together.
Glancing back at Cain, she saw his chin was up and his eyes bright, smiling as her mother stepped forward to introduce herself. He darted his gaze back to the crowd, then hooked his attention on Misty with a confident nod. A swift, sure handshake to her father, then he placed his hand comfortably at the small of Misty’s back.
She half-listened to the conversation, but the throng of voices rose and fell around her. She closed her eyes, briefly, at the warmth radiating from his palm. Safe. Secure.
“Miss Darling!” From across the portico, Alfred waved her over.
“Go.” Cain kissed her cheek. “We’ll be right here.”
She tilted her head, chewed her lip slightly. “Be right back.”
Stepping to Alfred, she reviewed his clipboard. A glance at Cain saw he kept her in sight, ready to jump to her aid at a moment’s notice.
There he stood, talking animatedly with her father. No physical comparison in coloring or height, her Dad towered over him, blonde, light eyed. Cain stood not quite a head shorter, with olive-toned skin, and vibrant, dark eyes.
For all he lacked in height, he stood tall, proud, watching—her protector. Her partner. She was quite sure that together they could do anything at all.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The banquet hall was abuzz with activity. Chandeliers dripped in low lights, the tables sparkling with candles and the ornate centerpieces deftly designed by the ladies of The Flower Field. Misty saw the three of them, at a premium table, each having a well-deserved glass of champagne.
She followed Cain through the crowd, greeting and being introduced to some of Long Valley’s finest. She waved to Delores, Rose, Adele, and their husbands, all looking bright and bubbly to celebrate their beloved friend. The mayor and his wife sat elbow to elbow with the former dean and his whole family. Even a few executives from the studio who produced many of Grandma Nona’s first films had come to pay their respects.
“This ought to be interesting.”
Cain’s whisper tickled her ear. Misty couldn’t agree more.
Glasses filled with golden champagne. Mr. Wiggersham introduced everyone to the event at hand, followed by polite applause from the audience. The air of excitement was palpable as Desiree joined their family table.
The buzz in Misty’s head refused to subside. Nerves, she imagined. Didn’t anyone else feel it? If Grandma did, she didn’t say. Misty sat, fidgeting with the tongs of her fork while her father gave Cain the thorough grilling he thought her young man deserved.
“Dad, don’t you think you can cut him a break?” Misty pleaded.
“What do you think, Cain?” Her athletic father scooped back his thinning blonde hair, removed his glasses, and pocketed them, focusing on Cain. “Would you go easy on the guy your daughter chose to spend time with?”
“No, sir. Not at all.” He cleared his throat, in over-emphasis. “Please continue.”
Everyone laughed. Misty sighed and sank deeper into the chair.
“He’s cute, Misty.” Evelyn leaned in and squeezed her arm. “Where’d you find him?”
“Which time?” Misty arched an eyebrow.
“I’m particularly fond of the time he dove through the bathroom window,” Grandma said.
Cain and Misty both looked up, then at each other. All gazes fell heavily upon the pair as dessert plates appeared.
“Tell the story, Misty.” Her mother’s voice was ice.
“Oh, good. Death by Chocolate,” Cain quipped, breaking the awkward silence.
Their collective families answered with resounding laughter. Grandma gave her own account of the incident with the spider. Cain’s mother followed with a few Cain-spider-stories of her own.
“Cute,” Misty whispered, turned her attention to Cain. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” He speared a large forkful of the gooey dark chocolate and strawberry treat, stuffed his mouth full, and gave a thoughtful chew.
“You’re perfect for me.” She tasted a tiny bite of the melting frosting, followed by another. “And I just can’t quite figure you out.”
“Oh, I’m real mysterious…” He shrugged, devoured another morsel, swallowed. “Anyway, you’ve got the next fifty years or so to do it.”
She glanced to his hand that absently checked his coat pocket for the umpteenth time. “Next fif—” She started, mouth agape. “—what’s up, Romeo?”
He went deer in the headlights. Then a slow, knowing smile crept over his face that kicked her heart-rate up-tempo.
The orchestra interrupted in a flourish of violin, cello, and French horn. The master of ceremonies trotted up the rope-lit stairs. Audience paused through their coffee and dessert, and peppered with applause.
Cain shrugged, with a cat-who-ate-the-canary grin, and sipped from his fluted champagne glass.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Before we start our show, we have a special treat. The granddaughter of our guest of honor—a film producer in her own right—Misty Darling.”
Applause brought her to her feet, the question left unanswered. She leaned down, freshly glossed lips to his ear. “You will be finishing that thought after this is over.”
“I plan on it.” His lips brushed a kiss ov
er her cheek.
She stood, straightened her skirts, and reached over to clasp her grandmother’s hand.
“Here goes nothing.” Nona grinned, her fingers entwining Anton’s. “Break a leg, kid.”
Misty nodded, and then focused her attention at the back of the room. The entry doors had opened, the paparazzi finally allowed entrance, as scheduled. Frenzied over the secrecy, they turned in their cameras with murmurs of disapproval, first amendment rights, and the like—she got the oddest sensation of seeing gunslingers enter a saloon in a western movie. Still, Todd remained barred at the door. His voice, loudest of all, discernable over the din. Denied, she noted, with a smile in her heart, just according to plan.
She turned and followed a young, handsome theater major—dressed to the nines in his best suit—up the stairs to the podium. The stage lights up, footlights glowed, spotlights lasered on her.
Behind, the screen filled with the swirling images of the featurette she and Desiree had spent hours creating. The young man tapped his watch and showed five fingers. Five minutes, and all the wheels would be in motion.
Showtime. Misty’s heart pounded a crescendo yet somehow, she remained poised. Her hands wrapped tight around the Plexiglas podium. She spread out and feathered note cards she didn’t need. She knew this story by heart.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Misty’s voice boomed from the microphone. She kept her jaw up, offering a nod to the crowd, wishing she’d taken one more sip of water. Her gaze found Cain’s, and she smiled in earnest, drawing courage from him. “If I might take you back a moment, to the nineteen fifties.”
A solo guitar—Cain’s music—played a fifties riff. A young Nona Dysart filled the screen, waving animatedly in a home movie. Just a kid. A girl with stars in her eyes and a song in her heart.
“The year was 1950. The place, a tiny town called Mammoth Spring, Arkansas.” Black and white images of a little girl, fishing with her father, on the banks of a creek. Willows wept, framing the serene scene.
“It was a national contest by Sudzee soap. Any kid could enter, and be the face of America’s cleanest kid.”
His and Hers Page 14
