“Not bad,” Louella murmured, “not bad at all. Though I think I would have held out for one big, fat stone rather than a bunch of tiny ones.”
“It’s an heirloom,” Janie explained. “It once belonged to Empress Josephine, Alain told me. It’s been in the Chanson family for generations.”
“Oh, I see,” Louella murmured, clearly impressed. “In that case, I guess it’s all right.” An awkward silence descended then as Louella let go of Janie’s hand. She seemed to remember suddenly where she was, and that she had told herself she’d never step foot in there. She shuffled backward and muttered, “Well, got to get back to the switchboard. Just wanted to say like, you know, congratulations.”
“Lou,” Janie began hesitantly, “don’t go just yet.”
“Hey, I’m busy,” Louella retorted, making her way around the boxes toward the door.
“I know you are,” Janie replied, standing up. “But … there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. For a long time.”
“What?” Louella responded, stopping and turning around.
“I’m sorry,” Janie said simply. “I was wrong about Melina. I made some stupid, selfish moves. I hurt you and Zach and a lot of other people at the agency. I just want you to know that … I apologize.”
“Well, good for you,” Louella retorted. “But if you think you can simply waltz back in here and think that bygones are going to be bygones, you’ve another think coming. You’re darn right you hurt me, Janie. You stamped all over me—you and that awful, horrible…”
“I never meant to, Lou,” Janie coaxed. “I was blinded by … well, by my infatuation with Alain. You see, Melina figured out that I had a thing for him … then she let me know that he was interested in her agency—and that I could work with him directly if I went in with her. I was a fool. I fell for it. I was just, well … I was an idiot.”
“You mean,” Louella replied skeptically, “you’re telling me you did it for love … and not for money? Come on, Janie, I’m no fool. I bet Melina offered you a real bundle.”
“No,” Janie told her, “that’s not true. Because … Lou, I really don’t need any money. I … well, I come from a family that’s pretty loaded already.”
“What?” Louella demanded, looking around the room. “What is this? You’re putting me on, right? Exactly ten months ago you were fat, loveless, and as strapped for money as I am. Now suddenly you’re beautiful, about to marry Alain Chanson, and rich?”
“Actually, yes,” Janie admitted. “It’s just not something I let everybody know about.”
“I don’t believe you,” Louella countered. “If it’s true, I bet Zach and Michael know.”
“They don’t as far as I can tell,” Janie replied.
“Melina knows for sure,” Louella retorted.
“I thought she didn’t,” Janie responded with a sigh. “But it turns out she did—the whole time. That’s one of the reasons she wanted me so badly. She figured I could bail her out if worse came to worst.”
“You’re really not kidding?” Louella asked, searching Janie’s face for clues to the contrary.
“I’m really not kidding,” Janie confirmed.
“I don’t get it,” Louella replied, crossing her arms across her substantial chest. “Why keep it such a secret? Why live the way you did? Hey, I can remember shopping for secondhand clothes with you at Alice Underground! I mean, Janie, come on, that’s just weird.”
“Maybe it sounds that way to you,” Janie said. “But the thing is, Lou, I wanted so bad to make it on my own here. I was the youngest in my family—and by far the least of the bunch. All my older brothers and sisters were these great-looking, smart overachievers. I was fat and stupid, and I think basically everyone was pretty ashamed of me. I wanted out of all that in the biggest way. I needed to prove myself, without benefit of Penrod money and prestige. And I was also terrified when I first got this job that if anyone found out I didn’t need it—monetarily, I mean—I’d get the ax.”
“You could have confided in me,” Louella told her. “I would have kept your secret.”
“But, Lou, I was so much happier not being rich,” Janie explained. “I just wanted to forget all about it.”
“So why even tell me now?” Louella asked.
“It’s going to come out,” Janie said, sighing, “with all the coverage of the marriage. I just can’t hide from it anymore. And I guess I don’t need to either. My mother’s already planning a big engagement affair back home in Baldwin. She’s so thrilled that I finally turned out okay. And though I hate all these elaborate plans she’s making, I also can’t stand to spoil her fun.”
“I’m still not sure why you’re telling me all this,” Louella replied truculently.
“Because I’m hoping you’ll … help me, Lou.”
“With what?” Louella demanded. She was not about to become anyone’s social secretary, dammit, if that’s what Janie had in mind. Taking all her calls was bad enough. She could just imagine Janie asking her to open her mail, send out her letters, check her invitation lists. No way in this world was she going to get involved with that, Louella told herself. A girl did have her pride.
“Well, I was hoping you’d consider,” Janie told her hesitantly, “being my maid of honor.”
“Your what?” Louella gasped, taking a step toward her old friend. “No, wait—I heard you. You said you want me to be the maid of honor in your marriage to Alain Chanson!”
“That’s what I said,” Janie replied, laughing. “What do you say, Lou?”
“Yes!” Louella cried. “I say, yes! So, great … well, what do we do? When do we start? Ohmygod, what will I wear?”
Janie figured that she had talked to her mother more in the last three weeks than she had in the last ten years. Faith called her so often at the office—to work up invitation lists, discuss caterers, go over menu plans—that Janie frequently picked up the phone and said, “Yes, Mother?” without even being told who was calling. Somehow Janie knew. She suddenly had a rapport with Faith. She was able to listen to Faith natter on for fifteen minutes about flower arrangements with perfect ease and humor. They laughed about things neither would have found funny before. They could now—as so often happens with mother and daughter—read each other’s thoughts.
“Henry’s adamant about hiring his medieval choral group,” Faith confided during an afternoon update call.
“Oh heavens, Mother,” Janie retorted. “Madrigals? Won’t that be kind of…”
“Dreary,” Faith interrupted. “That’s just what I told him. My exact words. Well, he was a bit put out. Gave me quite a little speech on the subject of love and marriage in medieval music and literature.”
“I can hear it now.” Janie laughed. “He quoted Chaucer’s Wife of Bath, I bet.”
“Well, of course,” Faith snorted. “Along with a little Petrarch. Anyway, I pointed out that this was an engagement reception, not the wedding itself. It was supposed to be light, fairly informal, elegant—of course—but fun. That band from Boston has come highly recommended by half a dozen people.” The Sleepless Knights were the type of rock-jazz-folk-whatever band that specialized in large-scale, expensive receptions of the sort Faith was arranging.
“Couldn’t we compromise, Mother?” Janie suggested. “Perhaps have Henry’s people kind of wander around the grounds during cocktails? And have the Boston band perform after dinner?”
“Oh, Jane,” Faith cried, “that was my thought, too! I just didn’t want to push it on you and have you resent Henry’s old fogies getting underfoot. You see, I thought if we kept them out in the open—well, you know how breezy it can be on the bluffs…”
“Then no one will really hear them, anyway?” Janie laughed. “Mother, you’re wicked! They’re not that bad.”
“Dear, you haven’t heard them in years,” Faith pointed out. “Heavens, during the Christmas concert last year, Edgar—you know, the one who plays the mandolin…” and the
n Faith would go on to regale Janie with stories and gossip from Baldwin. Much to Janie’s surprise, she rather enjoyed catching up on what was happening in the town she had been so eager to escape from six years earlier. She had escaped, after all, she told herself. She had done everything she had hoped to do. Now it was safe to return, victorious and content at last.
Except deep inside she knew she was far from content. At first she wrote it off to the turmoil of breaking with Melina, the energy needed to plan how to woo Melina’s clients back to Dorn & Delaney, the minor pressing concerns of the engagement and wedding. There was always some handy excuse for feeling on the edge of something. Nervous. Off-center. Soon it would pass, Janie kept telling herself, and she’d start to feel the serene, sure pulse of happiness she knew marrying Alain should give her.
Janie had always worked long hours, but now she practically lived at Dorn & Delaney. She told herself it was because she had a new office to set up. Because she had a hell of a lot of research and planning to do that demanded access to the files. Because … it kept her from being alone and having to confront all her uncertainties. Alain was traveling on business in Scandinavia, so she was able to devote herself fully to the task of winning back the City Slickers and Ramona accounts. She spent hours poring over the work Bliss & Penrod had produced, the sales reports of each company, the marketing approaches of every major competitor. She sat and stared at long columns of figures for hours on end. And on Monday night of the week before the reception at Baldwin, after having put in a full weekend of extra work, she finally had to admit to herself that despite all the time and care she’d put into her strategizing, she’d gotten nowhere. Zip. Zilch. She threw down her pencil, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
“Excuse me.” Zach cleared his throat at the door. “Am I interrupting meditation hour?”
“Zach!” Janie sat up nervously. They hadn’t spoken much since news hit about her marriage and her unknown wealth. Zach had congratulated her formally the day everyone heard about the wedding … and had said something cryptic as word spread about the Penrod fortune … but it almost seemed as if Zach had been avoiding her, and Janie was glad. She had nothing to show him for all her big talk about wooing back the clients they’d lost to Melina. He had trusted her, supported her. He had been there when she needed him most. And now she seemed to be botching up the only way she had of paying him back.
“Yes, that’s me,” Zach replied. “You’re very good with coordinating names and faces. A real talent.”
“Thanks.” Janie laughed uncomfortably. He had every right to turn his cynical humor on her, but it still hurt. “Come in, please. I’ve finally got stuff in some kind of order around here. Even got the plastic wrap off the new chairs. Everything’s really great, Zach. The room and everything, I mean.”
“Good,” Zach replied absentmindedly, walking past her to stare out the floor-to-ceiling plate glass window that constituted the entire southern wall. The sun was setting in a rich wash of color that shot bright streaks of red and gold and pink into the cloud banks that were building at the mouth of the Hudson.
“Yes, well,” Janie began, swinging her chair around so that she could see him. “What can I do for you?” He didn’t turn around for what seemed to Janie like minutes, letting her dread and unhappiness mount.
“I just thought we should talk, Janie,” Zach responded finally, turning and giving her one of his odd smiles. He walked back around to the front of her desk, tapping the tabletop in passing. “So,” he said, sitting on the edge of her desk and picking up one of her useless files. “What have you got here? How are things coming?”
“Great,” Janie began. “Really great. I’ve got a lot of things … plenty of, you know…”
“Such as?” Zach demanded. “You’ve a strategy plan in here?” he asked, holding up the folder.
“Not yet,” Janie mumbled.
“Okay, so what have you got?”
“Nothing,” Janie said. “Nothing. Zach, I just can’t seem to get anywhere with it. I’ve got all this information … all these sort of vague thoughts. But I just can’t pull anything together.” She braced herself for anger and recriminations, but they didn’t come.
“Well, at least you’re being honest now,” Zach replied, his tone softening. “The way I see it, you’re lost for one of two reasons. Either you’re too in love, too involved with the wedding and Alain to concentrate now—” But Janie stopped him before he could go on.
“No, really,” she said, “that’s not it. I care about this more than anything. I want to do it, Zach … I just can’t.”
“Okay, then, maybe it’s reason number two,” Zach replied. “And that is that you’ve simply never done it before. Your entire career has been spent on the creative side. What you’re being asked to do now—analysis and planning—is a whole new can of worms. Michael and I let you take this on without really thinking things through. Just because you’re familiar with the account doesn’t mean you automatically know how to formulate marketing strategy for them.”
“You’re right.” Janie sighed. “I’m sorry. I feel so stupid and useless. I think you should just … let me go.”
Zach laughed aloud, a true, spontaneous laugh that made Janie’s heart soar. “Not on your life, sweetie,” he said. “You’re going to have to beg us to let you out of here this time. Listen, you’re golden. You know these companies from the inside—the key players, the new products, the politics, and thinking. All you need is some help from someone who knows his way around a marketing plan.”
“Any ideas where we can find such a person?” Janie asked with a pleased smile. When Zach was happy, his eyes were such a warm color—the dark brown and green of deep summer. She could see sunlight playing across his gaze, feel the deep-down heat of high noon. He shone.
“You’re looking at him,” he said, and Janie realized at that moment she was having a hard time looking anywhere else.
Chapter 41
“Zachary Dorn, ma’am,” he introduced himself to the tall, lean handsome older woman who greeted him in the front hallway of the spectacular mansion. He was still trying to recover from his first view of the Penrods’ vast white wedding cake of a house. For reasons he still couldn’t quite fathom, he had opted against flying up to Boston in the private plane the Penrods had chartered for their New York guests, though half of the Dorn & Delaney office had accepted the invitation. Instead he had Elise rearrange her schedule to spend the weekend in Boston with him, and he had flown up on a commercial flight the night before. Though Elise had expressed more than a little interest in going with him to the Penrod reception, Zach found himself persuading her that he was going only for business reasons and that she would be bored to tears as usual. For some reason he knew it was important for him to face the coming ordeal alone. He vowed to arrive late, get out early, and steer clear of being alone with Janie for any length of time. He steeled himself as he drove the rented car up the long, winding, oak-lined driveway that led to Janie’s home.
Gabled, corniced, glistening white in the late afternoon sun, the Penrod house was elegant yet inviting. Though the lush green lawns were immaculately maintained, Zach saw from an abandoned game of croquet that the grass was meant to be walked on. There were gardens everywhere you looked—skirting the woods, tucked beneath windows, running along the side of the house—but they were all slightly wild and overgrown, frothy masses of color and scent.
“The Zachary Dorn?” the woman asked. She had silver-gray hair, a direct probing gaze, fair, slightly freckled skin that made him think of Janie. “The famous man himself? Everyone’s been asking where you were. Janie’s told me so much about you. Oh, I’m sorry,” she added, holding out her hand, “I’m Janie’s mother, Faith. So pleased to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you, too,” he replied politely, returning her effortless smile. Her lips were like Janie’s—warm and generous—her eyebrows the same soft questioning curve. She must have b
een a beautiful younger woman, he guessed, and the years had been kind to her. Her face was etched with fine wrinkles, most prominent around her mouth and eyes when she smiled, but she was still elegantly attractive, graciously feminine. Janie would look something like this in another forty years, it occurred to Zach. Though he’d promised himself to stop thinking about it, he felt a sudden rush of anger and regret that he wouldn’t be growing old with her.
As if sensing something was wrong, Faith put her hand on Zach’s sleeve and said, “A tough drive up? Janie told me you had some business in Boston. The highways can be utter hell on summer weekends. Would you like to wash up before joining the others?” She had started walking down a wide, highly polished corridor hung with family portraits which opened to various high-ceilinged, beautifully appointed rooms. To the right was an oval dining room with an enormous mahogany table and breakfronts glimmering with ornate china and silver. To the left was a spacious living room with a fireplace at either end, a jungle of expensive chintz-covered furniture, and a number of Impressionist paintings that Zach sensed were the real thing. The whole house smelled of flowers and furniture polish and was filled with the cool, comforting sense of a well-loved home. The party was obviously taking place outside. Zach could hear voices, the tinkling of glasses, a distant rumble of ocean, and broken strains of lute music. He suddenly felt thoroughly unprepared for what was ahead.
“Actually, yes, if you don’t mind,” Zach told Faith, “I could stand a washup.”
“We’re sending the men up to the second floor,” Faith told Zach. “If you go back to the front hall, it’s your first left at the top of the stairs. Actually, there’s any number of bathrooms up there. You can take your pick. I really should get back to the Chansons—you know they flew in from Paris this morning.”
“I didn’t know,” Zach answered politely. Then he added lamely, “How nice for Alain and Janie.”
“I guess so,” Faith said, though her smile had faded somewhat. “I’m afraid, though, that they’ve found us all very, well, American. It certainly hasn’t helped matters that two members of my husband’s medieval music troupe came to the party already well fortified, if you know what I mean.”
Changes of Heart Page 32
