Strawberry Lace

by Amy Belding Brown

  “I appreciate your dedication, but I’m sure all this can wait another twenty-four hours or so. I’ve made some phone calls and everybody but one on the invitation list will be attending.”

  “Good.” She had trouble looking directly at him. His eyes had the penetrating shine that she’d always found deeply unsettling, but it was more than she could tolerate today.

  He leaned the crutches against the wall and unzipped his bag. “I brought you some Ace bandages. I’ll show you how to wrap them. But first I want to take a look at that knee.” He drew back the blanket before she had a chance to pull down the bathrobe, which had slid up to her buttocks as she worked. He seemed amused at her consternation as she tugged it down quickly over her thighs.

  “Hey, take it easy. I’m a doctor. Remember?”

  All too well, she wanted to tell him. How could I forget the touch of those skilled, gentle hands?

  He gently unwrapped the gauze and slid his fingers over the swelling. “Not bad. I think you’re well on your way to recovery.” He glanced up at her. “I’m going to show you how to wrap your own bandage and give you a couple of hints on using the crutches, and then you should be all set.”

  He demonstrated bandaging her knee, then unwrapped the long bandage and made her try it herself. It was more complicated than she’d realized, involving turning the strip at precisely the right points so that the bandage would support her knee while it applied pressure to reduce the swelling. He eyed her efforts critically.

  “Not too bad. Try it again. A little tighter this time, but be careful not to cut off the circulation.”

  She did as he said, but when he insisted she do it a third time, she objected. “I really have to get back to work.”

  “Not until you get this right.”

  “What do you mean? This is right!” Indignant, she pushed her index finger at the bandage and then gave a cry when it hit swollen flesh.

  “Hey, take it easy!” He was grinning, but there was something terribly serious in his eyes as he looked down at her. Serious and distressing. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of his kiss and by a powerful desire to repeat the experience. Her hand was almost trembling as she took the bandage from him and tried to wrap it a third time. She bent over her leg, letting her hair swing forward so that she couldn’t see his face, but his hands were right there in front of her, and so was the heady scent of his cologne. She could even feel the warmth of his body, pulsing in waves between them, because he was standing much too close. . . .

  She stopped suddenly, dropping the bandage.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, pressing her hand to her mouth. He reached down, took her chin in his hand and lifted her face.

  “Chelsea?”

  It was something in the tone of his voice that undid her. The tears jumped into her eyes, and she didn’t even know why she was crying, much less why she felt like smiling at the same time.

  “This is my fault,” he said quietly. “It’s because of last night, isn’t it?”

  She nodded mutely.

  “I promise you it won’t happen again. You have my word on that.”

  Part of her wanted to tell him that the last thing she wanted was such a promise, but she kept her mouth shut and groped for a tissue.

  It was while she was wiping her eyes that she heard the front door open and Stuart’s hardy voice calling her name from the living room.

  “Hey, Chelsea,” he called again. “You should see the rusted-out Chevy Nova that’s parked in front of the shop. It looks like it escaped from a junkyard.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Junkyard?” Jeff gave Chelsea an incredulous grin.

  “That’s Stuart,” she said quickly. “He’s bringing me lunch.”

  “Oh.” He nodded and pointed to her half-bandaged knee. “Finish wŕapping that and I’ll get out of your way.”

  Stuart appeared in the doorway, holding a brown paper bag. His face registered surprise, until Jeff turned and smiled at him warmly.

  “Hi, I’m Jeff Blaine. I was just showing Chelsea how to treat her sprain.”

  Stuart smiled back, and they shook hands while Chelsea finally managed to wrap the bandage to Jeff’s satisfaction.

  “Great.” Jeff zipped the black instrument bag shut and nodded to Stuart. “Nice meeting you. Congratulations on your engagement. You’re a lucky man.” He turned to Chelsea. “I’ll check in on you later.” He gave her a last, quick smile, and was gone.

  Stuart frowned. “What happened to your regular doctor?”

  Chelsea hesitated. “Jeff was there when I hurt myself. It turns out he’s a doctor, as well as a new client.”

  “Client? Now I’m totally confused.”

  “Remember Muriel Winter’s surprise party we’re doing this week? Jeff is her son. I’ve been working with him on the planning aspects for the last two weeks.”

  Stuart nodded. “Well, I guess that clears up the mystery. More or less. How did he manage to turn up at the right time? He’s not the same dude who rescued you at the beach, is he?”

  “Actually, he is. And the same man who helped me when my van went off the road.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been needing a lot of help lately.” Stuart’s tone was uncharacteristically hard. “How come he always just happens to be in the area when you’re in trouble?”

  “I don’t know! Are you suggesting this is some kind of strategy on my part?” She straightened her shoulders against the headboard and glared at him. “Because if you are, you can take your ring back this minute. I’m not interested in marrying someone who doesn’t trust me!”

  “What am I supposed to think? Here’s this guy in your bedroom, looking at you like you’re some kind of goddess or something, and your face is all flushed.”

  “I was crying.”

  His face crumpled instantly. “Jeez, I’m sorry.” He set the bag on the floor and sat on the bed. He took her gently in his arms and kissed her face. “Of course I trust you, Chels.”

  She let out a long, shaky breath. “I don’t understand what’s going on. We’ve never fought before in our lives. What’s happening?”

  “I think it’s called a lover’s quarrel, darling.” He smiled gently. “It’s a sign that we’re not just friends anymore.”

  “It’s going to take some getting used to.”

  “For me too.” He kissed her again, and she found herself kissing him back eagerly. When he finally released her, she was smiling.

  “Where’s the lunch you brought me? I’m starved.”

  Over deli tuna sandwiches they discussed the wedding.

  “I really don’t have many free weekends until after Labor Day,” Chelsea said, studying her calendar. “Not unless I’m going to do a half-baked job on one of these parties. How about the fifteenth of September?”

  “I really don’t want to wait that long, Chels.”

  She sighed. “But what harm would it do? It would give me a chance to prepare for my own wedding, instead of cramming it in along with everything else.”

  “I just want to get married before the end of July.” She saw something in his eyes, a secretive flicker. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there? There’s a reason you want to get married right away.” She knew instantly she was right. The flash of distress that crossed his face was unmistakable. He was hiding something. “Tell me, Stuart.”

  He blurted out the truth in one long breath, his sandwich clenched in his strong hand, his eyes searching the room for consolation. It was his father, he told her. He’d just been diagnosed with advanced lung cancer.

  “Oh my God!” Chelsea dropped her own sandwich into her lap. She thought of the gray-haired, handsome fisherman she’d known almost all her life. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shook his head. There were tears in his blue eyes. “He’s always liked you,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “It would mean a lot to him to see our wedding.”

  “Of course.�
�� She reached for him and pulled him into her arms. “You should have told me earlier. Of course we’ll get married right away. Before the end of the month. I promise.”

  They made quick, tentative plans. The wedding would be held on the lawn at Stuart’s cabin; it would be a simple ceremony, with just family members as guests. There was no discussion of a honeymoon. Chelsea didn’t even bring it up. Neither of them would consider leaving when Stuart’s father might be near death. And they wouldn’t go anywhere after he died either; his mother would need all the support she could get.

  They pored over her calendar again, searching for a date. It would have to be as soon as possible after the Winter surprise party. The doctors were predicting he would last eight weeks, maybe three months at the most. They finally chose the fourth Sunday in June. It was less than three weeks away.

  After Stuart left, Chelsea called Lori and told her the news. Her sister made gravely sympathetic noises about Stuart’s father, but Chelsea could tell that she still had doubts about the wisdom of the marriage. It was in her voice as she congratulated her, in the careful choice of words as she asked questions about Chelsea’s plans for a wedding gown.

  “I won’t bother with a gown. I don’t have time to go through all that fussing. I’ll just buy a simple white dress and a hat.”

  “Chels, you’ve always wanted a fairy-tale wedding. Remember those sketches you used to make of elaborate gowns with long trains and lace flounces?”

  “I was just a kid. Besides, there’s no money for that kind of dress, even if it were practical.”

  “Sure there’s money. We’re not doing the Winter surprise party for free, are we? Look, as soon as you can hobble around, we’ll go to Portland and find something. Every girl deserves to have the wedding dress she’s always dreamed of.”

  Chelsea hesitated. She was seriously tempted. Ever since Lori’s wedding, when she’d helped her sister select the perfect bridal gown, she’d dreamed of shopping for her own.

  “It won’t hurt to look,” Lori reminded her. “We’ll take an afternoon off next week and go. You at least owe yourself that much. It’s your wedding, Chels!”

  “All right. But I really don’t want anything too fancy.”

  “Of course you do! Every girl wants to look like a princess on her wedding day. And don’t worry about the cake. Paul and I will take care of everything.”

  Chelsea called her mother, who was thrilled that Chelsea had finally set a date. She expressed sympathy for Stuart’s father, then excused herself. “I have a date with Bill,” she bubbled. “We’re going to Kennebunkport for the afternoon.”

  After she hung up, Chelsea put in a call to Holly. She left a message on her answering machine, asking if she’d be her maid of honor. “The wedding’s not going to be fancy, but I’d die if you weren’t there. And I promise, there’ll be no mention of Muriel Winter.” She knew that Holly would agree to come. They’d promised each other since childhood that they’d attend each other’s weddings, no matter where they were living.

  Chelsea went back to her calligraphy and tried to ignore the strange sensation of alarm that gnawed at her throughout the rest of the afternoon. It was as if a small animal were running around and around inside her, trying desperately to escape.

  Jeff dropped by the next morning and, after a thorough examination of her wrist and knee, pronounced her well enough to negotiate the stairs.

  “Your knee healed surprisingly quickly,” he said. “There’s very little swelling left. How does it feel when you stand on it?”

  “Better. A little tender.”

  He nodded. “That’ll continue for a few more days. But as long as you don’t do anything strenuous, I don’t see why you can’t resume your normal routine.”

  “That’s a relief. I was afraid it was going to interfere with the surprise party.”

  “Just don’t do any jogging.”

  Chelsea laughed. “Believe me, I won’t.”

  “I enjoyed meeting Stuart yesterday. He seems like a good man.”

  “He is.”

  “I meant it about his being lucky.”

  Chelsea felt an odd wave of heat spread up her neck and into her cheeks. He was looking at her with that penetrating gaze that always unnerved her, as if he meant her to hear some unspoken words, to read the message in his dark eyes.

  “You’re an extraordinary woman, Chelsea. Fascinating, and very beautiful. You have a quality about you that I can’t describe.” He stepped closer and took her hand. “ ‘Garmented in light from her own beauty,’ ” he said softly. “I think maybe Shelley was writing about you. I hope you’ll be very, very happy.” Silently, he lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her fingers. A powerful, responsive shiver ran through her. He smiled down at her knowingly. “I’d better be going. I’ll see you later.” He turned and quickly left her apartment. She stared after him mutely, her mind numb, her whole body trembling. She cradled her right hand in her lap. The skin on her fingers burned with a sweet, delicious heat.

  By the morning of the surprise party, Chelsea was completely back on her feet. She no longer used the crutches or the Ace bandage. She was able to move around the kitchen and even climb stairs with only an occasional twinge. She had to work doubly hard, to make up for the time she’d lost, but by noon everything was ready and she and Lori were sitting in the big shop kitchen. They were waiting for Jeff’s phone call, the prearranged signal indicating that he’d managed to convince his mother to go shopping with him and that the coast was clear to set up the decorations.

  “We’re definitely on for tomorrow afternoon,” Lori reminded her. “I’ve already made a list of the bridal shops we’re going to visit.”

  Chelsea grimaced. “I’m beginning to have second thoughts. It’s just going to be torture for me, sis. I’ll see a hundred gowns I want and not one of them will fit into the simple scheme of the wedding. I’m going to look ridiculous, all dressed up in some flowing ivory gown in front of that shabby little cabin!”

  “Nonsense! You’ll look beautiful! Anyway, you’re going to have the ceremony down by the cove, overlooking the water, aren’t you? You can hardly see the cabin from there. It’ll be picture-perfect.”

  “I don’t know. At this point, I just want to get it over with.”

  “Every bride feels that way. Or else she wants to get out of it altogether.”

  Chelsea gave her a sharp look. “I’m not trying to get out of it.”

  “I didn’t say you were. I just meant that prenuptial jitters go with the package. How’s Stuart’s father doing this week?”

  Chelsea sighed. “The same. He’s happy about the wedding, though. He told Stuart that he’s really excited about seeing the whole family together. One of his brothers is even coming from the Midwest.”

  The phone rang. Chelsea picked it up and heard Jeff’s low voice on the other end.

  “Chelsea? The coast is clear. All set?”

  “All set.”

  “Great. I’ll see you at five.”

  He hung up and Chelsea smiled over at Lori. “Let’s roll. We have exactly four and a half hours to put it in the bag.”

  Everything went smoothly, from the time Chelsea pulled the van up to the service entrance of the estate and Beth Harmon greeted them at the door, to the moment the guests started arriving. At one end of the dining room, a long folding table had been set up, covered in white linen and festooned with flowers and finger foods. The oak dining table was laid with shining crystal and Muriel Winter’s best china. Wheels of cheese, bowls of fresh fruit, platters of bite-sized vegetables, and an array of Strawberry Lace’s most delectable hors d’oeuvres surrounded a gigantic wicker basket of fresh strawberries. A nonalcoholic bar was set up in one of the smaller dining rooms. The entire house was fragrant with the scent of fresh-cut flowers. Bouquets of roses, lilies of the valley, sweet peas, and ferns decorated fireplace mantels and side tables.

  Beth took charge of the guests, directing them to remain in th
e dining area until she gave the signal.

  At five o’clock Beth silenced everyone by ringing a small silver bell. “The car just entered the driveway,” she announced. “I’m going to dim the lights now.”

  There were soft murmurs of excitement as the lights went out. Chelsea stood behind the buffet table with the three waitresses, while Lori waited in the kitchen. There was the sound of a car on the gravel outside, then the deep rumble of a powerful engine shutting off. Then footsteps on the gravel, approaching the dining room’s French doors. She could see the figure of Muriel Winter, coming toward them. Jeff walked by her side, his hand at her elbow. Just before reaching the door, Muriel swayed and staggered. As Jeff caught and steadied her, Chelsea felt a wave of sympathetic admiration for him.

  “Get ready!” Beth whispered.

  The door opened, the lights went on, and there was a sudden shout of “Surprise!” and then everyone was laughing and Muriel Winter was standing in the doorway with a stunned expression on her face.

  It took only moments for her to collect herself, and then she was the same, elegant woman that Chelsea remembered from the Columbus Day party two and a half years ago. She bowed and swept and danced her way through the room, greeting people, laughing, nodding, chatting casually, while Jeff stood grinning triumphantly over at Chelsea. He cornered her in the small dining room a short time later, when she was stocking the bar with clean glasses.

  “I think it’s working,” he said. “I haven’t seen her this happy since I came back from Africa.”

  “Wonderful.” Chelsea picked up a dirty glass from the windowsill. She gave him a quick smile, then glanced away, unnerved by his closeness and the intimacy of his look.

  “She’s already had people ask when she’s holding her next party. That’s a good sign.”

  Chelsea nodded and tried to slide past him to the door.

  He put his hand on her arm. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. What could be wrong?”

  “I don’t know. You seem uneasy, apprehensive or something. What is it?”

  She looked up at him. His eyes were shining and he was smiling at her with that gorgeous dimple showing. How on earth could she tell him that he was the reason she was uneasy? “It’s nothing, honestly. I just have a lot of work to do.”