RSVP...Baby

by Pamela Browning

  “What do you mean?”

  Neill shrugged. “We both had a hard time growing up. I always tried to make our family life better for him. If getting married makes him happy, that’s good. I’ve gone along with it. But so far, he and his chosen bride seem miserable. As far as I’m concerned, that makes this whole whoop-de-doo a travesty, Beans. Remember, Eric’s a Bellamy. We’re not good marriage material. We don’t even come close.”

  Bianca’s features went blank; it was as if she had wiped them clean of all feeling. She withdrew to the corner of the seat and refused to look at him.

  They sat staring out at the lake, at the clouds in the distance. Over to their right, a man, woman and small child were romping with a Labrador retriever. The woman kept throwing a chartreuse tennis ball up in the air and batting it for the dog to chase. The child chortled with laughter every time the dog returned with the ball in its mouth. They looked like such a happy family.

  A bleak feeling swept over him, and he turned his head so he wouldn’t have to see them.

  “I’m not hungry anymore,” Bianca said in a muffled tone. “Could you please take me back to the hotel?”

  When he looked at her, Neill thought he detected a note of resentment in her eyes. But then he wouldn’t be surprised if she resented all Bellamy males—his father for failing to be a good husband to her mother, Eric for being unable to get along with Caroline, and himself for—well, for just being a Bellamy. And maybe for that night a year ago when he had been overwhelmed with her beauty and his feelings for her. Maybe she thought he’d taken advantage of her.

  Neill gulped the rest of his Whopper and crumpled up the bag. Brusquely and without speaking, he started the engine and pulled out of the parking place.

  He hadn’t meant to drive a wedge between himself and the one person he saw as an ally at this wedding. All he’d wanted was validation of his own feelings and to share them with someone who might understand. He knew now that he should have guarded against revealing too much. It wasn’t good for anyone, much less Bianca D’Alessandro, to know what he really thought of himself and this family.

  Oh, and mistake number two: her name was Bianca, and he shouldn’t have called her Beans. It was a nickname she’d always hated.

  Chapter Three

  Neill drove. Bianca thought.

  What she thought was, Never mind that what happened last year in the gazebo changed my life. Never mind that it blew my chances with Neill Bellamy. Never mind never mind, never mind.

  But she did mind. She minded terribly. Her anguish was made even worse because despite everything, she felt comfortable with Neill. Just now, for instance. She’d allowed herself to think that possibly things could work out, that perhaps someone who seemed so sensitive to her feelings could care about her in a meaningful way. But he’d made it clear—again—that he wasn’t interested in permanence, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  Neill drove through the gates and looped around the semicircular drive up to the main entrance of the hotel. From the moment when she’d first seen it, Bianca had loved Swan’s Folly with its eccentric mazelike hallways and its oddly placed staircases. Under different circumstances Bianca would be delighted to be staying here again. But not now.

  She was out of the car before it rolled to a full stop.

  “I’ll help you with the baby,” Neill said, but Bianca was already loosening the straps and lifting Tia out of the back seat.

  “No need,” she said curtly. “If you want to be useful you could stash the car seat behind the bellman’s stand. He’ll know where to put it.”

  “Bianca,” Neill said, but she didn’t dare look back. If she did, she might show her weakness for him.

  She raced past the jardinieres full of flowers on the front steps and through the lobby, hair flying, heels clicking on the wide plank flooring. The garden party was over; everyone had dispersed. Bianca kept on going right through the lobby toward the pond and its bordering path that led to the manager’s house.

  Tia, held close, was satisfied to suck on her Binky and gaze wide-eyed at their surroundings.

  “I am going to find Franny, no matter what,” Bianca said to her. “And then I’m going to shower and dress for the rehearsal later. And I’m not going to waste one more minute thinking about Neill Bellamy and what might have been.” Tia sighed and snuggled deeper into Bianca’s arms.

  At any other time, Bianca might have enjoyed strolling beside the pond, which was bordered by water lilies and, at its narrowest point, crossed by a high arched bridge. The Folly, an artfully built fake Gothic ruin that was going to be the backdrop for the wedding, was reflected in the pond’s wide surface, shimmering golden in the light of the late afternoon sun. Concealed behind a grove of birch trees was the converted carriage house where the manager lived with his family.

  To Bianca’s immense relief, Franny answered her knock.

  “Oh, what a precious baby,” she cooed as soon as she saw Tia. “Come here, darling.” She eased the baby out of Bianca’s weary arms, handling her competently and with great gentleness.

  Doris Ofstetler, the manager’s wife and Franny’s mother, bustled in from the back of the house, all smiles. “We have a cradle all ready for her,” she said, leading Bianca into an alcove off Franny’s room. “It’s a family heirloom that we use for the grandchildren. You know, I thought maybe your own nanny would be able to make the trip after all.”

  “No, as it turned out, Gabrielle has mono. Doctor’s orders are that no travel is allowed.” Bianca had called before the diagnosis of mononucleosis to find out if Franny Ofstetler, whom she’d met the year before, was available to baby-sit. Fortunately, Franny had been willing, even eager.

  “We like having a baby in the house, so please let Tia stay as long as you like,” Doris Ofstetler said comfortingly.

  “I’ve got a portable crib in the closet of my room, all ready to set up. I’ll be back to pick her up after the rehearsal dinner,” Bianca told them. She’d keep Tia all night and return her to the Ofstetlers in the morning. That way, no one would see her with a baby again. That way, her secret would be safe.

  After leaving the Ofsteders’, Bianca walked slowly back to the hotel, her gaze lingering on the pairs of swans paddling so gracefully beneath the mossy gray stone bridge. Swans mated for life, she recalled with a certain degree of melancholy. Maybe, despite Neill’s pessimism, the choice of Swan’s Folly as a place to be married was a good omen for Eric and Caro.

  “Bianca?” She whirled at the sound of her name. Eric was hurrying toward her, dressed in jogging clothes. He liked to run; she wondered if he still ran every day. She used to know that kind of thing about Eric, but everything had changed since he’d decided to marry Caroline. Not that she was jealous; she was happy for them.

  She was relieved when Eric held out his arms and enveloped her in a big bear hug.

  “Let’s talk for a few minutes,” he said, keeping his arm around her shoulders.

  “Okay,” she replied. They headed toward the bridge, and Bianca wondered what Eric expected from her. After she’d learned she was pregnant last year, she’d phoned Eric from Rome to tell him; he’d been flabbergasted. He told her that he’d never suspected her secret crush on his older brother. Later, when he called her and found out that she hadn’t informed Neill that she was carrying his child and didn’t plan to, he’d been furious. Fortunately she’d been in Rome at the time and all she’d had to do was hang up. Then she’d cried. She and Eric hadn’t spoken since.

  After they reached the top of the bridge, Eric stopped and leaned on the railing. “I’m glad you’re here, Bianca.”

  “How could I miss your wedding?” she said, trying to infuse the words with a lightheartedness that she didn’t feel.

  Eric turned his head and looked at her, and in that moment she knew he’d forgiven her. “How are you, Bianca? I mean, really?”

  “I’m fine. Just in case you ever want to try it, childbirth isn’t all it’s cracked
up to be; I was only in labor for a few hours.”

  Eric chuckled. “I think I’ll let my future wife handle that. How’s the baby?”

  “Tia is wonderful. Beautiful. Magical. I’d like for you to meet her.” Then she remembered. “But I’m not sure it would be a good idea. At least not during the wedding festivities.”

  Eric’s expression clouded. “Why not?”

  “Oh, Eric,” she began, but she couldn’t go on. She focused her gaze on a dragonfly hovering at the edge of the water.

  “Is something wrong?” He sounded alarmed.

  “Neill thinks the baby is someone else’s,” she said in a rush. The dragonfly flitted away and disappeared under the bridge.

  “Another man’s? Bianca, what have you done now?” Alarm had become exasperation. Eric had always been the levelheaded one.

  “Oh, not another man’s. I mean, the question hasn’t come up, thank goodness. Neill thinks Tia is another woman’s child. He saw me with the baby at the garden party and he walked over and I had a problem with my contact lens and Neill held her, and then he jumped to the conclusion that the baby belongs to Franny, who is actually the baby-sitter, and I thought it was better to let him think that.” She paused, out of breath, and glanced out of the corners of her eyes at Eric to see how he was taking all this. He seemed floored.

  He shook his head slowly. “Bianca, what will you do if Neill finds out the truth?”

  “You’re the only one here who knows I had a baby. Please, please, Eric, if I mean anything to you, don’t tell Neill,” she said in a low tone.

  “But you brought the baby to the garden party. I assume everyone saw you with her.”

  “I was only there for ten minutes or so. Tia will be with the baby-sitter much of the time, and there’ll be so much going on that no one will have time to think about whose baby it is.”

  “Bianca, I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Eric focused on her, his forehead knit in dismay.

  “It’s because I don’t want Neill to find out I got pregnant after our one time together. You know Neill. He doesn’t want permanence. He hates family life. I wouldn’t want him to feel obligated, especially since I can provide for Tia myself.”

  Eric remained silent. Under the surface of the water, little fish flashed silver in the sunlight. In that split second, Bianca was reminded of the Japanese carp in the pond in the backyard of the house in Lake Forest, Illinois, the suburb of Chicago where they’d all lived during the time that her mother was married to Budge Bellamy.

  When Eric didn’t speak, she said, “Remember the koi pond?”

  Eric slanted a look in her direction. “You threw me in. Just like I want to throw you in right now.”

  “That bad, huh?” She smiled ruefully.

  “We’re not kids anymore, Bianca. Adults make decisions and have to live with them. So if you really don’t want my brother to know he has a child, I’ll respect your wishes. But if it were me, I’d want to know I was a father.”

  “Neill’s different,” Bianca said. “You’ve chosen to get married and I wish you and Caro every happiness in life and love and in raising a family, but we both know Neill’s nothing like you. By the way, does Caro know I had his baby?”

  Eric sighed. “You asked me not to tell her, Bianca, and I didn’t. Fortunately, she’s been focused on wedding plans.”

  Bianca reached out and clasped his hand. For a moment, she gazed deep into her friend’s eyes. They were troubled, but she didn’t doubt his loyalty.

  “I’ll keep your secret, Bianca. Cross my heart and hope to die, on my honor never lie.” It was their old vow, useful when it was just the two of them against the world, and it made her smile.

  “You’re supposed to cross your heart and spit over your left shoulder,” she reminded him.

  Solemnly Eric crossed his heart, and restraining a grin, spit.

  Bianca laughed. “Oh, Eric, I’ve missed you.”

  He drew her arm companionably through his. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “Why don’t you and Caro come to Paris later this year?”

  “I thought you didn’t want her to know about the baby.”

  “After the wedding, once it’s over and I’m far away from Neill and everyone else, you can tell her. Just don’t tell her who the daddy is.”

  Eric was silent for a long moment before he spoke. “Bianca, do you honestly think this will work?”

  “I hope so,” she said fervently.

  “You’ll never tell Neill he has a daughter?”

  “Eric, there’s no reason ever to see him again once he’s gone back to Colombia. Why should our paths cross? We live half a world apart, and we’re not really family. Anyway, will you and Caro come to see us? My flat is big enough for all of us, and you could get to know Tia.”

  “I’d like that. I’ll suggest Paris after the honeymoon.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Only Caroline knows. All I have to do is show up.”

  She slanted him an oblique look. “What’s going on between you and Caro, anyway?”

  Eric only rolled his eyeballs. “Aaah,” he said, giving the impression of mustering a great deal of forbearance.

  Bianca remained tactfully silent in case Eric wanted to unload his feelings. He didn’t say anything, though, and she didn’t want to pry. But Neill’s words kept echoing in her head—Bellamys aren’t good marriage material. . .Bellamys aren’t good marriage material. . . . She wanted to believe that, in Eric’s case at least, Neill was wrong.

  They had resumed walking and reached the place where the bridge met the path. Eric stopped and patted Bianca’s arm reassuringly. “I’ll leave you here,” he said. “I know you probably need to rest after your long trip.”

  “And I’m ready for a bath. It’s been a very long day.”

  Eric squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks for coming, Bianca. It means a lot to me.”

  She smiled at him, remembering all the fun they’d had as kids. “Me too,” she said. And then he was off, disappearing around a curve in the path. Bianca stood looking after him for a few moments, her eyes misted with sentimental tears. She was glad to be here to see Eric get married. The hard part was all the other stuff—the bachelorette party, the dinner tonight, the rehearsal.

  For which she wasn’t at all prepared. Time, she thought as she squared her shoulders and sped up her pace, to have that bath and get dressed.

  Bianca’s room was located in the wing where she’d stayed last year, and she reached it without encountering anyone else she knew. To get to her room she had to climb a narrow staircase, pass two utility closet doors, and climb three more steps. It was an unusually private nook, and she appreciated that. When Tia cried, it was unlikely that anyone would be able to hear her. Also, the room’s separation from the others made it less likely that Bianca would be expected to socialize.

  Not that the other members of the wedding seemed eager to hang out with her. At the garden party, Bianca had overheard Viv and that rather strange-looking girl who’d come to the wedding with Lizzie, the only other female bridal attendant that Bianca actually liked, talking about lunch tomorrow. No one had invited Bianca. After last year, who could blame them?

  Genevieve and the others might think that she, Bianca, had a thing for Eric, but it simply wasn’t true. It had never occurred to either Bianca or Eric to become romantic about each other. They had always been buddies, nothing more. So at the engagement party dinner right after the famous haircut episode, Bianca had been stunned when Genevieve stopped conversation cold by hinting that there was more to her friendship with Eric than anyone knew.

  Caroline, who assured Bianca and Eric that she knew there was nothing to her mother’s spiteful speculation, had stood up for Bianca. So had Eric. But it had been a humiliating moment for Bianca, and she’d fled the dinner. After which Neill had come upon her crying amid the lilacs and consoled her. In the gazebo. And the next morning, unable to face Gen or Eric or especially Neill, Bianca h
ad run away. End of story.

  Well, not quite. Tia was the end of the story. And the end of any chance she might have had to build on whatever her relationship was with Neill.

  All water under the bridge, she thought ruefully. And why had she ever thought it could be otherwise? Swans mated for life. People didn’t. Her mother and Budge were certainly proof enough of that.

  In her room, Bianca showered quickly. The rehearsal was at six, followed by the rehearsal dinner. As she was trying to decide whether to make a splashy statement by wearing a brightly flowered Italian knit or if she should stick with basic beige, she glanced at the clock and realized that she had time to lie down for a few minutes. The bed was wide and scattered with heaps of inviting pillows; it was covered by a plump duvet.

  As tired as she was, Bianca couldn’t resist. She tossed her towel in the hamper and crawled under the duvet, sinking into the soft, sweet-smelling sheets. She closed her eyes, letting darkness soothe her irritated eyelids. It felt so good to be off her feet; it felt wonderful to let her tense muscles relax.

  She’d lie there just a few minutes, and then she’d get dressed.

  “WHERE IS Bianca?”

  Eric hissed the question at Neill, who was cooling his heels slightly out of the range of Winnie, who kept making eyes at him, and Nana, who was going the rounds of the men in the wedding party and asking them to save a dance at the reception for her.

  “I haven’t any idea,” Neill replied. He’d worked out his frustrations over Bianca by swimming numerous laps in the hotel pool. He didn’t know where she was, and he didn’t care.

  “But we can’t proceed with the rehearsal until Bianca shows up,” Caroline chimed in. She was looking lovely in a pale yellow linen dress that showed off her creamy complexion. She was also looking worried, probably because her mother was antsy. Genevieve had already declared that the dining room staff could hold dinner for forty-five minutes, max, and if they didn’t start the rehearsal soon, they’d be late ending the rehearsal, and the beef Wellington would be ruined.