Mother of the Bride

by Caroline Anderson

  How stilted. How formal and civilised and polite, when all Maisie wanted to do was head off with Jenni and hug her and hear all about Alec’s proposal.

  ‘Maisie, do sit down. You must be exhausted. I don’t suppose you slept a wink on that wretched train. I know I never do.’

  ‘It was very comfortable.’

  ‘But not restful. It’s not the same as a decent bed.’ She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers slightly, then met Maisie’s eyes again, her own, so like Rob’s and Jenni’s, troubled. ‘I’m glad you’ve come,’ she said frankly. ‘I did wonder if you would, but for Jenni’s sake, if not for anyone else’s, I think we should try and put the past behind us and move on—let bygones be bygones.’

  She opened her mouth to speak, found no words that she was prepared to say out loud, and then was saved from answering by Jenni coming back into the room with Alec.

  She got up to greet him and found herself wrapped in a warm, firm hug. ‘Hi. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived, I was just welcoming a group of guests, but I saw you drive by and gave them some flannel about checking on the nesting golden eagles and left them to settle in.’

  His eyes sparkled mischievously, and Helen gave a rusty chuckle. ‘You’re a terror, Alec Cooper. Will you stay and join us for a drink, or do you have to be somewhere?’

  ‘Checking the nesting eagles, for instance?’ Maisie teased, and he laughed.

  ‘No, I don’t have to be anywhere. The guests have all been before, so they know their way around. They’re all heading off to the pub for lunch, and I’m free for a while.’ He took her hand in both of his, his eyes serious. ‘So, will you forgive me? I’m sorry I didn’t manage to talk to you, too. I did try, but your mobile must have been off, and I didn’t leave a message. It didn’t seem to be the sort of thing I could say to a machine, but—well, I know you’ve had reservations about me, and I really wanted your blessing, too…’

  ‘Oh, Alec, of course I forgive you,’ she said, guilt washing over her. He had tried to ring—the missed call from a number she hadn’t recognised. ‘And it’s not that I have reservations, Alec. I don’t really know you, and I just want you both to be sure, but Jenni knows you much better than I do, and you probably know her better than I do, come to that, so I have to trust your judgement. I just want my daughter to be happy, and she does seem to be, so of course you have my blessing. But look after her, Alec, treat her right. That’s all I ask.’

  ‘Of course I will. I love her, Maisie. I love her more than anything or anyone in the world. I’ll do nothing to hurt her.’

  Maisie’s eyes filled, and she hugged her soon-to-be son-in-law hard, then reached out for Jenni, drawing her into the hug as well. Please let it be all right, she prayed, and then let them go, just as Mrs McCrae came in, set down the tray and engulfed her in yet another hug.

  ‘Good heavens, lass, let me look at you. You don’t look a day older! Oh, it’s good to see you again.’

  She laughed, delighted to see the kindly housekeeper who had been her saviour and only friend in the dark days after Jenni’s birth. ‘Oh, Mrs McCrae, how lovely to see you again, too! You haven’t changed, either. I would have known you anywhere!’

  ‘A few pounds heavier, mind, but my grandchildren keep me fit now when I’m not here running up and down stairs after this lot!’

  She heard a door open and close, then Rob came in. ‘Sorry to be so long. I was held up by a guest—something about nesting golden eagles?’

  Alec chuckled. ‘Ah—a little poetic licence. I wanted to greet my future mother-in-law, but it’s not a problem. I’ll tell them they can’t be disturbed, and, anyway, we have got nesting eagles.’

  ‘Have we?’

  ‘Aye. I saw them this morning when I was out on the hills checking the deer. We’ve a stag needs culling, by the way. He’s been injured—can’t put one hind leg to the ground. It’s the big old stag with the broken antler and the scar on his rump.’

  Rob nodded. ‘I wondered about him. He was lame yesterday, I was going to check on him. Can I leave him to you?’

  ‘Sure.’

  That dealt with, Rob turned to Maisie, scanning her face for any clue as to her mood, but she was smiling and talking to Mrs McCrae about her grandchildren and giving his mother a wide berth.

  Oh, hell, it was all so complicated, he thought, feeling twenty-two again. If only she’d stayed, if only he’d tried to convince her to come back instead of letting her go without a fight. Or gone with her. They hadn’t needed to live up here, they could have lived in London or Cambridge—anywhere, really, that she chose, but she’d chosen to leave him, to take his daughter away, and deny his parents the chance to see their beloved little granddaughter grow up. She’d even done it behind his back, while he’d been at sea, and asked his parents to tell him and give him her letter—a letter that had told him what he’d already known, that she didn’t want to stay. She hadn’t even had the guts to do it to his face. That, more than anything, had hurt.

  He checked the thought and turned to his mother, concentrating on the practicalities. ‘So—what time are we aiming to have lunch?’

  ‘Whenever we’re ready. Mrs McCrae, how long will lunch take to prepare?’

  ‘It’s all ready, Mrs Mackenzie, you just tell me when you want to eat. The bread’s fresh out of the oven and I just need a few moments to heat the soup.’

  ‘Ten minutes, then?’ Helen said, and Rob wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it, or if it was desperation that flickered briefly on her face before Maisie masked it.

  ‘I think,’ he cut in smoothly before anyone could argue, ‘that Maisie could probably do with a few minutes to freshen up. She’s been travelling all night. An hour, maybe?’

  He hadn’t imagined it. Her eyes met his with relief, and she gave him a grateful smile.

  ‘Thank you. That would be wonderful—if you don’t mind, Mrs McCrae? I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’

  ‘Och, of course I don’t mind! I made cock-a-leekie for you, hen,’ she said, beaming at Maisie. ‘I know it’s your favourite soup, and there’s home-made oat bread, and some wonderful Mull Cheddar to follow. You always liked the Mull Cheddar.’

  Maisie’s face softened, and she smiled warmly at the elderly housekeeper. ‘Thank you. That sounds lovely. Fancy you remembering I like cock-a-leekie.’

  ‘I’ve never forgotten you, pet. I’m making roast beef for you tonight, for Alec’s parents coming up. Just to welcome you home.’

  She bustled off, and for a moment there was silence while the word ‘home’ seemed to reverberate around the room, but Rob cut it off swiftly.

  ‘I’ll show you to your room,’ he said, and opening the door he ushered her out and closed it softly behind them.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. That was all, but it spoke volumes, and he dredged up a smile.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he told her, wishing that it wasn’t a lie, that every interaction between them, no matter how brief or businesslike, didn’t seem to be flaying him alive. ‘I’ve put you in the room you had before. You always used to sit there in the window and look out at the sea. I thought you might like it.’

  Maisie felt a chill run over her. She’d wept so many tears in that room, and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask for another, any one, it didn’t matter which, just not that room, but then she stopped herself and nodded. She had to get over this silliness. They had a wedding to plan, and she couldn’t allow herself to keep harking back to the past.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, and followed him up the magnificent old stone staircase to the landing above. He fell into step beside her, hanging back as they reached the room, and she wondered if he could hear her heart pounding with dread.

  The door was standing open, and she went in and stopped in her tracks.

  It was different. Lovely. The colours were soft and tranquil, muted blues and greens, pale cream, a touch of rose here and there to lift it. A great black iron bed was heaped with pillows and
cushions and dressed with a pretty tartan throw so soft she wanted to bury her face in it and sigh with delight.

  When had it been changed? And why? Not for her, of course. It would be a favourite guest room, with that gorgeous view out over the sea to the islands, and she realised in surprise it now had its own bathroom off it, in the little room that had been Jenni’s nursery.

  Progress, she thought in astonishment.

  ‘It looks…’

  ‘Different?’ he murmured, and she turned and met his eyes.

  ‘Yes.’ Very different from the room she’d been installed in after Jenni had been born. That had been cold and forbidding, but this…

  She ran her hand over the throw, fingering its softness. ‘This is lovely.’

  ‘It’s a pastel version of the Mackenzie tartan,’ he told her. ‘Jenni’s idea. There’s one in every room—mohair, to keep out the cold.’

  ‘It’s warm in here, though.’

  ‘Well, it is April. The heating works better now, but the wind still sneaks in in January.’

  His smile was fleeting, and made her heart ache. She’d loved him so much…

  ‘And an en suite bathroom. That’s a bit luxurious,’ she said, turning away as if to study it, just to get away from those piercing eyes.

  ‘It was twenty years ago, Maisie,’ he reminded her gently, as if she needed reminding. ‘Things have changed. All sorts of things.’

  Him? She said nothing, and after a moment she heard a quiet sigh. ‘I’ll see you downstairs. Come and find me when you’re done—I’ll be in my study.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Bottom of the stairs, turn left, follow the corridor round and it’s at the back, by the gun court. Just yell, I’ll find you.’

  He went out, leaving her alone, and she closed her eyes and thought longingly of the bed. It looked so inviting. So soft and warm and welcoming. And she was shattered.

  Later, she told herself. Shower first, then lunch, then talk to Jenni—and maybe later, before dinner, she’d snatch five minutes.

  Anyway, her luggage was on the bed, waiting, and she’d have to deal with it before she could lie down.

  ‘Shower,’ she told herself sternly, and unzipping her case she pulled out her wash bag and headed for the bathroom.

  She didn’t dawdle. Lunch was calling her, and she was more than ready for it by the time she’d tamed her hair, pulled on some clean clothes and tracked Rob down in his study overlooking the sea.

  He was deep in thought, staring out of the window, feet propped up on his desk and his brow furrowed when she went in. He dropped his feet to the floor and swung round, greeting her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Lovely, thank you. Much better,’ she said with real gratitude, and he got to his feet and ushered her through to the drawing room where his mother, Jenni and Alec were waiting.

  He’d gone into the study deliberately, she realised then, to wait for her so she didn’t have to come in here alone and face them all. She could have laughed at that. If only he’d realised that he, of all of them, was the biggest stumbling block.

  ‘I’ll tell Mrs McCrae we’re all ready,’ he said, and left her with Jenni, striding down the corridor away from the scent of soap and shampoo and something else he recognised from long ago. Something that dragged him right back to the beginning, to the times when she would come to him smelling like that and he’d take her in his arms and hold her close and breath in the scent of her…

  He went down to the kitchen, wishing he could escape, go out onto the hills where the fresh air could drive the scent from his nostrils and bring him peace. But he couldn’t, because he had things to do, things that only he could do. His daughter was getting married, and he had to hold it together until then. And dragging Maisie into his arms and breathing her in wasn’t an option, either.

  ‘We’re all here now,’ he said to Mrs McCrae. ‘Can I give you a hand?’

  ‘Aye, that would be kind, Robert. You can stir this while I put the bread out.’ And having trapped him so easily, in a trap he’d walked into with his eyes wide open, she then started on him in her oh, so unsubtle way.

  ‘She’s looking tired.’

  ‘She is tired. She’s been travelling all night. She looks better now she’s had a shower and changed into fresh clothes.’

  ‘She’d look better still if she’d come home and let me feed her up a bit,’ she said, wielding the bread knife like a weapon. ‘Poor wee thing.’

  ‘I’m sure Maisie’s perfectly capable of feeding herself,’ he said firmly, drawing the pot off the heat and closing the lid of the range. ‘And she has a home in Cambridge,’ he added, reminding himself as much as Mrs McCrae as he glanced at the bare table. He frowned. ‘Where are we eating?’

  ‘In the dining room,’ she said, her eyes flashing with indignation. ‘Robbie, she’s come back, wherever you say her home might be! She can’t be eating in the kitchen—not today.’

  He opened his mouth to argue, shut it again and sighed softly in resignation. ‘I’ll carry this,’ he said, and followed her up the stairs.

  ‘Here we are, hen,’ she said, setting the bread down on the table as Maisie sat down. ‘And mind you eat plenty!’

  She did. She was still starving, the half-eaten pastry just a memory now, and she had two bowls of the delicious hearty soup, a good chunk of cheese and two slices of the soft, warm oat bread that was Mrs McCrae’s forte. And while she ate, Jenni took the opportunity to fill her in on the wedding plans to date.

  ‘OK. I’ve had a few ideas,’ she said, making Alec splutter into his soup, which earned him a loving swat from his fiancée. ‘You’re not here for long, Mum, so I thought we should spend today planning and having a brainstorming session, and then tomorrow we’re going to Glasgow to look at dresses. I’ve made some appointments, and I’ve made sure they know that there’s only two months, but the places we’re going all have samples which they can sell us, so we won’t have to go through the business of ordering them, which takes ages. Now, they’ll probably need altering, so…’

  Rob watched her in wry amusement. She’d been planning this for ages, he knew, and Alec’s proposal had been like a breath on a hair trigger. He just hoped that Maisie was ready for it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘SHE’S amazing. Is there anything she hasn’t thought of? She’s so organised—it’s like a military operation!’

  Rob leant back against the ancient stone wall of the gun court, propped his elbows on it and chuckled, to her surprise. ‘Did you really expect anything else?’

  Maisie shrugged, turning to stare out over the sea below. ‘I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it, but it never occurred to me she’d have it all down pat. What if it doesn’t work out? What if something can’t fit into her carefully orchestrated plan?’

  ‘Then she’ll have a little fit and learn the meaning of the word compromise,’ he said drily.

  Maisie shook her head. ‘She’s got all these ideas so firmly fixed. How long’s she been planning it?’

  His broad shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. ‘Months? Years, probably. Come on, ever since she knew the meaning of the word bride she’s been looking forward to this day. She just wants to be a princess. That’s why Alec didn’t ask her ages ago, he told me. He knew the second he said anything, she’d be off like a rat out of a trap, and so he had to wait until the time was right.’

  ‘But—two months?’ She winced just thinking about it, about all the plans that had to be put into action before the big day, but Rob seemed unperturbed.

  ‘She doesn’t need more than that, and he realised that if she had longer, she’d drive herself and everyone else round the bend. You know what she’s like. Single-minded, determined, knows what she wants and gets it. Now, who does that remind you of?’ he added drily, one brow arched in a mocking salute.

  What? He thought she was like that? She nearly laughed out loud, because the one thing—the only
thing—she’d ever really wanted was standing right there with her now, and she’d failed, lost the only thing she’d really, truly needed in her life.

  The love of the man she adored, the man who had given her his child and then turned his back on her when she’d needed him the most.

  ‘I think you overestimate my powers,’ she murmured wryly.

  ‘Well, let’s hope not, because this wedding is all down to you now. I’ll do what I can, but I’m up to my eyes with the estate and the summer’s a nightmare with all the guests, so I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here to do it all.’

  ‘But—Rob, I have a life, six hundred miles away! I can’t just be here and sort it! I have things to do!’

  ‘Can’t you work round them? You can go back for the weddings—heaven knows there can’t be that many, and your features you can write from here. You could do one on being a wedding planner.’

  ‘What, and get tax relief on the wedding as a research tool, I suppose?’

  ‘Well, it’s a thought,’ he said, his lips quirking. It drew her attention to them, to the clean, sculpted line of the top lip, the firm fullness of the lower. He’d kissed her with those lips, trailed them over her skin, driven her crazy with need with just the lightest touch—

  Don’t go there! Keep focused on the wedding.

  She stroked her fingers over the barrel of an ancient cannon, testing the rough surface with her fingertips, searching for compromise. ‘I have commitments, Rob. I can’t just walk away from my life at a moment’s notice.’

  ‘So you’ll need to commute. Go back for your weddings, if you’ve got commitments, and be here when you can. It’s not for long.’

  ‘It’ll cost a fortune!’ she said, horrified, but he just shrugged.

  ‘So? She’s your daughter. I’ll pay your train fares. Talking of which, you’ll need money for tomorrow. I’ll give you a card and my pin number so you’ve got plenty of cash.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary. I’m buying her dress.’

  ‘Ah. I wasn’t thinking of the dress, I was talking about the train fare and incidentals, but…um…there might be a problem with the dress.’