“Linda is the best decorator in town,” Bob declared as he patted Pamela’s shoulder. “Does all the homes of the city’s elite.”
“How nice,” Pamela softly replied, starting to feel like she wanted to blend into the beige walls and disappear.
“Now, since you don’t know the sex yet, I figured we could hold off on the color scheme until your ultrasound,” Linda began. “Any preference for a boy or girl?” she asked Pamela.
“Well, I want a girl,” Bob jumped in. “I’m going to raise her to be a daddy’s little girl. I’ll buy her horses and send her to the best schools. Then we’ll have to send her off to law school, so she can take over her father’s law practice.”
“How sweet,” Linda cooed. “And if it’s a boy?”
Bob laughed. “Then I guess he’ll have to be a football star and we’ll send him to the best schools. Then, we’ll send him off to law school so he can one day take over my law practice,” Bob admitted, grinning like he was already a doting father.
Pamela turned to him. “You never told me about your plans for law school.”
“Does that matter?”
“It matters to me. I want our child to choose their own career path,” Pamela insisted in a firm tone.
Bob waved off her suggestion. “Children need guidance, Pamela. My father was an absolute son of a bitch and pushed me from grade school all the way through college. He made me what I am today.”
Pamela kept what she was thinking to herself. “But what if our daughter or son wants to go to art school or be a writer?” she asked as she folded her arms over her chest.
“Kids change their minds like you and I change clothes,” Linda offered with a wave of her manicured hand. “My two boys talk about being fireman one day and plumbers the next. Bob is right. Children need to be molded into something.”
“Thank you, Linda.” Bob nodded his head. “But we’ve got a long time before we have to worry about that, Pamela. So let’s get back to the nursery.”
“I was thinking,” Linda began as she gazed about the room. “You’re going to need a bassinet, preferably an antique of polished oak or mahogany. Either one will match any pastel color you might choose to paint the walls. Depending on if you go with the…”
Pamela tuned out the rest of what Linda had to say. She spent the next hour nodding her head and agreeing with whatever Bob desired. She was too tired to argue about nursery décor. She was just too damn tired to argue about anything anymore.
* * * *
After Linda left, Bob escorted Pamela down the stairs, still gushing happily about decorating the nursery.
“And I think Linda was dead on about the oak bassinet, especially if we go with a nice pale yellow in the room. We can do it in yellow and white, like you did my office after we got married. Oh, and I’m especially interested in seeing what Linda will do—”
“Bob,” Pamela said, interrupting his enthusiastic chatter. “What did you mean earlier about planning the baby’s life? You know the horses if it’s a girl and football if it’s a boy thing.” She stopped on the stairs and glanced over at him.
Bob shrugged and stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. “I didn’t mean anything.
I’m just talking out loud about what I want for our child.”
“And since when did you want this child to take over your law practice?”
“What’s wrong with wanting that? Doesn’t every father dream that their child will grow up and take over the family business?”
Pamela let out a slow and uneasy breath. “My father wanted the same thing for me. You remember, I told you about that. It was really tough growing up and listening to my father talk about the day I became a doctor and worked side by side with him. I know the kind of pressure that can place on a child.”
“And look at you now!” Bob bellowed. “If you had taken your father’s advice you wouldn’t be in this position.”
“And I wouldn’t have been happy either,” she countered.
He shook his head and furrowed his dark brows together. “Why are we even discussing this? The baby hasn’t even been born and already you’re arguing with me about how to raise it. Christ, Pamela, listen to yourself.” He started back down the stairs.
“You don’t get it, Bob. What if I’m not around to discuss this later? I have to know that this child will be raised according to my wishes and have the happy childhood I didn’t have.”
Bob reached the bottom of the stairs and looked back up at her. “All right,” he said calmly. “I don’t want to upset you. We can talk about all of this after the baby is born. We’ve got years to screw the kid up.”
Pamela came alongside of Bob and stared into his intense eyes. “I just need to know we are on the same page.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry. The kid can grow up to be the next Monet if it makes you happy.” He stepped back from her. “Don’t forget the movers will be coming to your place on Monday to get your things. We can go over everything this weekend when I pick you up for Val’s party. Make a list of what you want brought here and what the facility can keep.”
Pamela just nodded, wanting to avoid any further discussion about leaving her beloved sanctuary.
“And go and get something nice to wear to Val’s. Her parties are always black tie and I need you looking wonderful.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, then handed her a credit card. “Use this to buy whatever you want. The sky’s the limit,” he added with a smile.
Pamela took the credit card from him as a memory of Daniel taking her shopping flashed across her mind. She searched Bob’s eyes and fought to find the words to tell him what she was really thinking.
“I have to get back,” she said instead of clearing her conscience. “I have a few more interviews this afternoon,” she lied.
Chapter17
“I have it on good authority that Val wants to talk to me about my political aspirations,” Bob reported as he pulled his silver Mercedes in front of an impressive gray Creole cottage located on the corner of Dumaine and Royal streets. “So don’t distract her with your wildlife exploits. I know she’s your patron, but this is my night to shine.”
Pamela nodded just as a doorman, dressed in a black tux and tall black hat, opened her car door.
“Welcome,” the well-dressed man said as he waved Pamela toward the front door.
The French Quarter home had a plaster exterior and large french windows on both the first and second story. Thick green painted wooden shutters were located next to each of the windows and surrounded the front door. Two gas lanterns flickered on each side of the entrance.
“Couldn’t you have chosen something a little less revealing to wear?” Bob reprimanded as he took her hand and walked toward the entrance. “I’m trying to make a good impression tonight.”
Pamela glanced down at the short, fitted black cocktail dress Carol had bought for her to wear. “What’s wrong with this dress?”
“Pamela, you’re almost three months pregnant. Pregnant women don’t dress like that. Shouldn’t you be covering up your body and not showing it off?” he whispered beneath his breath.
“I don’t understand. It’s a cocktail dress, Bob. I think you’re making too much of it.”
He worriedly played with his bow tie. “Just don’t bend over in that thing; otherwise somebody is going to get a great view of your ass.”
Once inside, Pamela took in the detailed plaster inlay in the ceiling and rich burgundy antique mahogany furniture as Bob shook hands with some people he knew. She noted the way he made a point of introducing Pamela as his fiancée. They had not even set foot out of the living room area when Pamela felt a gentle tug on her arm.
“There you are,” a woman’s deep voice said.
Pamela turned to see Val Easterling covered in a swirl of deep blue silk that accentuated her round hips and added a sparkle to her light blue eyes.
“Mrs. Easterling,” Bob began as he reached for Val’s h
and. “I just want to say that I look forward to hearing your views on the current political situation in the city and I feel that—”
“Who are you?” Val demanded, turning her eyes to Bob.
Bob looked nervously from Val to Pamela. “I’m Robert Patrick. Pamela is my fiancée.”
Val turned her attention back to Pamela and raised her gray eyebrows in surprise. “Is she? Weren’t you already married to this ambulance chaser once before, Pamela?” Val asked, nodding to Bob.
Bob frowned. “Please, Mrs. Easterling, ambulance chaser is a bit—”
“Bob?” Val raised her voice to the man. “The bar is out in the courtyard.” She pointed to the back door leading outside. “Go get a drink. I want to have a word with your fiancée.”
Val and Pamela watched as Bob reluctantly made his way outside.
“I heard about your engagement,” Val stated as her eyes inspected the diamond ring on Pamela’s left hand.
“Bob and I plan on getting married as soon as his divorce is final,” Pamela explained and cast her eyes to the red Oriental carpet beneath her feet.
“Pamela, when I saw you with my Daniel at that benefit, I thought you two looked pretty happy together.” Pamela raised her eyes to Val. “Then Daniel left the city, without so much as a good-bye to me. The next thing I heard was that you had gone back to your ex-husband and are expecting.” Val placed her hands on her hips. “I remember seeing you at a few parties when you were married to Bob. And I always wondered what you were doing there. You always looked so out of place. Not like you didn’t belong, more like you didn’t want to belong. You reminded me of another young woman I used to know. She was just as confused about her place in the world as you are now. And I watched her come close to making the same mistake that you’re about to make.”
Pamela smiled, trying to keep up her brave face. “And was this young woman you knew pregnant? I have someone other than myself to consider now.”
Val shook her head. “The baby doesn’t change anything.” She paused and tenderly patted Pamela’s arm. “I know a hell of a lot more than you think about what you’re going through, so let me give you a bit of advice. Don’t settle for someone you don’t want when someone you do want is waiting just on the other side of that door,” Val declared as she pointed to the door leading to the courtyard.
Pamela looked from the door and back to Val. “I don’t understand.”
Val took her elbow and urged her toward the back door. “You will,” she whispered and then walked away.
Pamela started down the hallway, but stopped and looked back to see Val Easterling shaking hands with her other guests in the living room. Pamela sighed, faced the back door, and headed outside.
She stepped out into the cool evening air and took in the sweet smell of jasmine hovering about the courtyard. She was about to make her way across the bricked pavement toward the bar, when a familiar voice stopped her.
“I can’t believe you’re going to marry that asshole.”
Pamela turned to her right and found Daniel leaning against the wall, holding a flute of champagne in his hand.
“When Val told me about your engagement tonight I almost punched out her front window,” Daniel said as his eyes took in every inch of Pamela’s body. He froze when he spotted the engagement ring on her left hand.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered to him.
“Val invited me. When she found out I was back in town, she called me. She told me she had invited you and Bob, and she figured this was my opportunity to win you back.”
“Win me back?” Pamela almost laughed. “I was never yours to win back, Daniel.”
Daniel downed the contents of his flute in one long sip. Then his eyes wandered about the courtyard.
“Please go,” Pamela begged. “If Bob finds you here one thing will lead to another and someone will probably end up going to jail.”
“Tell me something, Pamela,” Daniel insisted as his eyes returned to her. “Did that night mean anything to you or was it all bullshit?”
Keeping her eyes on his, Pamela raised her chin slightly. “That night meant something, Daniel. I thought it meant something to you, as well. But then you disappeared.”
“I can’t change the past between us and I’m not about to stand here and—”
“What’s he doing here?” Bob’s angry voice cut in.
Pamela turned to see Bob’s red face beside her. “Val invited him. It’s her party after all. So don’t make a scene, Bob,” she whispered.
“I think you had better leave, Phillips,” Bob growled. “You’ve hurt my fiancée enough with your lies and your manipulation.”
“Lies and manipulation? This coming from a man who screws around on his wife and then dumps her when she gets sick,” Daniel responded.
“Why you son of a bitch,” Bob said, raising his voice as he made a move toward Daniel.
Pamela jumped in front of Bob. “Don’t do this. There are too many people here tonight who could hurt your political aspirations if they witness you making a scene.”
“Political aspirations?” Daniel laughed beside her. “You’ll fit right in with all the other crooks in this town.”
Bob lunged at Daniel. The two men slammed against the side of the house as Daniel’s flute fell to the courtyard floor and smashed into a thousand shards.
“Stop it!” Pamela shouted as she tried to move in between the men.
Pamela felt a pair of strong hands pull her back.
“Let me handle this,” a man’s voice said.
A tall man with thick, wavy brown hair stepped in and pulled the two men apart. When Pamela caught sight of her rescuer’s profile, she cringed.
“Care to take this discussion outside?” Lance Beauvoir calmly said as he looked from Bob to Daniel.
The buzz of conversation around their little party grew quiet. Pamela’s eyes darted about the courtyard to see if any of the guests appeared distracted by the tussle.
Val came up to Pamela’s side. “I had hoped Bob would show a bit more restraint tonight.”
Pamela turned to Val. “You must have known what would happen if you invited Daniel.”
Val shrugged. “I invited Daniel for you, not Bob. I know of Bob’s reputation as a bully and I had heard about his little tussle with Daniel at Pat O’Brien’s. But I figured he wouldn’t be foolish enough to go after Daniel with this crowd watching.” She nodded to the guests gathered in the courtyard.
“I can’t believe this,” Pamela whispered as she watched Lance pushing Daniel away toward the bar while ushering Bob inside of the house. “Why, Val? Why did you invite Daniel?” she asked in a low voice.
Val smiled at her. “I had to do something to make you come to your senses.”
Daniel had moved across the patio to the bar while Bob had retreated into the house. Feeling that the situation was under control, Lance came up to Val’s side.
“As always, you sure do put on one hell of a party, Valie,” Lance commented as he wiped his hand across his forehead. “Remind me to bring a referee whistle with me next time I come to one of your shindigs.” He nodded to Pamela. “You all right?”
“Yes, thank you,” Pamela replied. “I’m sorry you had to get involved in all of that.”
Val slapped Lance’s shoulder. “Why do you think I invited Lance, anyway? Best bouncer this side of Rampart Street.”
Lance shrugged. “Valie told me there might be fireworks, so I came prepared.”
Pamela felt her cheeks go red. “So you were both in on this?”
Lance’s green eyes twinkled with mischief. “Let’s just say Valie and I are old hats at this sort of thing.”
“What, starting fights?” Pamela asked.
“No, interfering,” Lance clarified. “I think I’ll just go over and join Daniel. I think we could both use a drink,” he disclosed and made a hasty exit to the bar.
Val patted Pamela’s shoulder as she motioned to the back door of her house. “You be
st be getting Bob out of here before he goes after Daniel’s hide again. I think we have proved our point.”
“Your point? What point, Val?”
Val gave her a frustrated sigh. “He may only be a bartender, Pamela, but he will make a better father than Robert Patrick can ever hope to be. Daniel doesn’t know about the baby. I figured that is something he needs to hear from you.”
Pamela was about to turn to go when Val reached out and held her arm.
“And one more thing,” Val spoke up beside her. “You’ll never make a good politician’s wife. Bob may want a career in politics but you can tell him from me, he’ll never have one if he marries you.”
Pamela stared into Val’s bright blue eyes. “Do you know what he will do if I tell him that?”
“Yes,” Val replied with a cheeky grin. “He’ll let you go.”
* * * *
In the car on the ride home from Val’s, Pamela watched as Bob’s face waned in and out of different shades of red. His nostrils flared and his knuckles shone white against the walnut steering wheel of his Mercedes.
“Bob, you need to calm down. You’re going to have a stroke,” she said, observing the pulsating artery in his neck.
“Don’t tell me to calm down. Did you see what that piece of shit did in front of Val Easterling? I’m never going to be able to get her backing now,” he shouted.
“Don’t worry about Val. I talked to her and everything is fine. She wants to help you. She understands what happened and she told me—”
“You talked to Val about me?” he shouted, silencing her. “What? You two are such good friends now that you can talk about me while I’m fighting off your ex-boyfriends?”
Pamela rolled her eyes. “Christ, I can’t talk to you when you are like this,” she whispered.
Broken Wings Page 22
