Fawn was Budge’s five-year-old daughter by his current wife, Rhonda. That made Fawn the half sister of Eric and Neill.
“Did you say my name?” Fawn, a ringleted vision in a full-skirted blue organdy dress, emerged from the forest of skirts and legs.
Bianca, tired of crouching, sank onto a chair. “Lambie said he likes you,” she said.
“Yep,” said Lambie, looking wise. “But we’re not going to get married.”
“I’d certainly advise against it,” Neill said amiably, pulling up a chair alongside Bianca’s.
“I’m not getting married until I’m at least sixtyeight,” announced Fawn.
“I hope not,” Neill told her.
“I’m not marrying Lambie, either. He’s a meanie.”
“Am not!”
“Are too! You pretended you were drowning in the swan pool during the garden party and Joe and that lady jumped in after you.”
“I was swimming!” Lambie said stubbornly.
Neill put a man-to-man arm around the boy’s slender shoulders and adopted a friendly tone. “Tell you what, Lambie. Tomorrow I’ll show you some secrets about swimming if you promise never to try to scare people again.”
At that moment an obviously inebriated Genevieve announced that dinner was served, and Fawn and Lambie scampered away to be with their parents. The minister eyed Bianca as if he wanted to speak with her, and she had no desire to sit with him. Bianca was preparing to bolt toward Vivian when Neill stood and offered his arm.
“Shall we?” he said.
“I don’t think so, Neill. Besides, I planned to sit next to your mother.” She and Viv had always liked each other.
“Looks like she’s sitting with Budge,” Neill said. He took her arm and looped it through his.
Winnie, who had been slinging admiring glances in Neill’s direction ever since the start of the rehearsal, was moving in their direction.
“Take pity on me, Bianca,” Neill whispered, grinning down at her in his most charming way. “Protect me from Winnie.”
Bianca had no desire to make meaningless conversation with Caroline’s younger sister, so she put on a show of smiling delightedly up at Neill.
“I’ll be glad to,” she said as sweetly as she could, but behind her words, her teeth were tightly clenched.
Once everyone was seated, dinner commenced with innumerable toasts to the bride and groom followed by a parade of appetizers, salads, main courses and finally dessert and coffee. Viv, who managed to switch places with Fawn when the waiters were bringing in the cherries jubilee, settled in the chair across from Bianca and began to regale her with witty anecdotes. Among other things, she said that she was negotiating to sculpt someone that Lizzie had brought to the wedding, a muscle-bound young man named, of all things, Storm. Storm was trying to break into movies.
“And so I said to Storm, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever met Aaron Spelling,’ meaning, you know, the famous television producer, and Storm said, ‘Spelling wasn’t ever my best subject.’ Isn’t that just the cutest thing?” Viv was at her flamboyant best, and all Bianca had to do was listen and nod. Which was just as well, because other than Lizzie, Viv was the only grown-up present who seemed to notice that Bianca was alive. And Neill, of course.
Once they’d worked their way through dessert, Bianca was stifling yawns and looking forward to bed. Tonight she’d sleep and sleep and sleep. Until Tia woke up, which would probably be all too early in the morning.
Her attention was drawn to the head table, where Caroline was staring obdurately down at her empty plate. Eric whispered something in her ear, whereupon she pinned him with a look, and Eric suddenly threw down his napkin and stalked from the room. Caroline jumped up and ran out.
A sudden hush fell over the group. “I daresay they’ll be back,” Genevieve said into the rollicking silence just before she hiccuped.
No one knew what to say. The silence seemed to stretch on forever until people began to converse as if nothing untoward had happened. Bianca stared at the two empty chairs at the head table, her heart in her throat, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wondered if she could go after her two friends and attempt to play peacemaker, then decided against it. Someone probably should, but it couldn’t be her. Her interest would only invite speculation. Instead she opted for a quick trip to the ladies’ room.
When she returned, people were starting to get up from their places and make polite leave-taking chitchat, and Vivian cleared her throat. “And so, Bianca, why don’t you come to my room for a while after dinner? I’d like to show you pictures of my sculptures.” Viv, after her second marriage to Budge Bellamy ended, had made a career out of sculpting nude men in life-size athletic poses.
“Well, um,” Bianca stammered, trying to think fast. No way did she want to go to Viv’s room. She certainly didn’t want to be drawn into gossip about the bridal couple. Besides, she was tired and she needed to reclaim Tia.
Neill picked up on her reluctance. “Bianca has promised that she’ll have a drink with me,” he said helpfully. He draped his arm across her shoulders, much to her dismay.
“How nice,” Viv said. She looked as if she meant it.
“To assure her that she’s still part of this family,” Neill continued.
He was a devil. He knew she didn’t want to be part of his family. She was on the verge of saying something to that effect when Budge Bellamy, never Bianca’s favorite person much less favorite stepfather, chose that moment to wedge his way into their little group. She steeled herself to endure his unctuous examination.
“Good to see you, Bianca,” he boomed, all grin and eyebrows. “My, you’ve grown up.” He’d said exactly the same thing last year; this year he actually pinched Bianca’s cheek. She recoiled, and Viv, bless her, noticed.
“Budge, if you don’t mind, I have some important things to discuss with you,” Viv said abruptly, and led him away.
Neill said, “How about that drink?”
“No,” Bianca said. “I can’t imagine why you’re doing this.”
Before he could reply, Petsy Lambert Thorpe edged closer. She was wearing a white lace two-piece dress with a blue satin band around the hips that made her seem twice as wide as she really was.
“Hi, Bianca,” she said breezily. “I didn’t know you’d brought a baby until I saw you at the garden party.” Her tone was honey laced with vinegar.
Bianca, taken completely by surprise, managed an offhand shrug and a laugh. “Well, I didn’t bring any baby tonight.”
Petsy eyed her up and down. “Well, I’ve heard that there’s just no predicting what you will do,” she said, all vinegar this time.
Bianca tried to think of a quick rejoinder that would quash the conversation and get her up and running for sanctuary, but Viv, back from her diversionary chat with Budge, chimed in with, “That’s what people are always saying about me,” almost as if she wanted to help by taking the spotlight off Bianca.
Bianca went limp with relief, and as the group began to break up, she drifted along with everyone else to the terrace. She half expected to see Caroline and Eric, but there was no sign of them.
Bianca began to plot her escape. She could slip into the darkness and hurry to the Ofstetlers’ house; no one would see her go. As she was easing toward the shadows, Neill shouldered through the departing members of the group and grasped her arm firmly. “The bar is this way,” he said.
“I don’t want anything to drink,” Bianca said stubbornly. “All I want is to go to sleep.”
“So I’ll walk you to your room.”
There seemed to be no choice but to fall in beside him on the path that led to the front of the hotel; ahead of them, a man and woman laughed. Caroline and Eric? No, an older couple. Trailing smoke, they veered sideways into the darkness, the glowing tips of their cigarettes extinguished in the shadows. As Bianca and Neill passed the place where they had left the path, they heard nothing but silence, then a long throaty laugh.
; “We need to talk,” Neill said into the awkwardness.
“We haven’t anything to talk about,” Bianca replied quickly. She wanted to be rid of him. And his voice like dark brown velvet, not to mention the gleam in his eyes.
Overhead a zillion stars sailed in a cloudless sky; a fragrant breeze blew languidly off the pond. It could have been romantic, but with memories of last year still smarting, Bianca put the stars and the breeze out of her mind.
Neill glanced over at her, his eyes thoughtful. “Have you ever considered, Bianca, that we’re the only two people here who are sensible about this wedding? And honest about marriage’s pitfalls? I can’t talk to anyone else about what’s going on with Eric and Caro without worrying that I’m going to say something that will reveal my true feelings.”
“What would be wrong with showing your feelings for a change?” she blurted. She was sorry for saying it immediately after the words left her mouth, especially when Neill’s lips hardened into a straight line.
“In this company, quite a lot.”
“You don’t like these people much, do you?” she said. They were still walking, but their pace had slowed. The pale glow from the Japanese lanterns lining the path illuminated Neill’s face.
“I like some of them werry much, as Lambie would say. And some of them more than that.”
The way he said it, his tone loaded with nuance, rattled her.
“Yes, Fawn and Lambie are charming, aren’t they?”
“I wasn’t talking about Fawn and Lambie. Or my mother, delightful as she is. Or Caroline. Or Eric.”
She grasped at this straw. “I talked to Eric today.”
“Did he clue you in about what’s going on with him?”
“No, he avoided a discussion.”
“Well, the fact that you actually talked with him must mean that he’s forgiven you for getting him into hot water last year, right?”
Neill and everyone else must think that her making him late for the engagement party was why relations between Bianca and Eric had been strained ever since. That was good; it was what she wanted them to think.
“Yes, everything’s fine between us. Tell me, Neill, does your brother know you don’t think his marriage will last?”
“No. You might as well admit it, Bianca. You don’t like it that Eric’s getting married any better than I do.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said flatly.
“I’m sure you have different reasons for not wanting him to marry.” The way he said it made Bianca do a double take.
“What,” she said with dawning comprehension, “are you saying?”
“I noticed the way you stared at Eric when you were walking down the aisle. And someone else might, too. So maybe you’d better guard against long lingering looks.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Oh, no,” she said, thunderstruck. “You can’t actually think that Eric—that Eric and I—”
“Whatever happened between you and Eric in the past, it’s over.”
“Neill,” she said. “There was never anything between Eric and me.”
“Stop standing there looking as if you’ve just been struck by lightning. Are we walking or aren’t we?” He looked back at her and frowned.
Bianca moved her feet; they felt as heavy as lead. When she reached Neill, she stared up at him. His eyes were shuttered, his face impassive. It was hard to tell what he was really thinking.
“I think I will fall over in a dead faint if you really believe that I ever wanted Eric for myself.”
“Well, a few people may have that impression, especially after Genevieve brought it up last year. And,” he said reasoningly, “you don’t want anyone to jump to the conclusion that you’re responsible for the problems Eric and Caro are having.”
Suddenly this whole wedding seemed to take on a comic opera quality. A bride and groom who were barely speaking, and no one seemed to know why. People arriving, people leaving, people not talking to people for ridiculous reasons, people not knowing who was related and who wasn’t, people skilled in the art of oneupmanship and people who let themselves be oneupped.
She laughed then, thinking that if anyone knew, really knew, her secret, it would put the scuttlebutt about her and Eric to rest. It would take the group’s focus off Eric and Caroline, and it would certainly start more rumors.
“Excuse me, Bianca, but did I say something funny?” He hadn’t, but by this time anything Neill said would have launched Bianca onto a new wave of hilarity wherein all her tension seemed to be vibrating at a new and higher frequency.
For a moment, although a brief one, Bianca actually wished that Neill were laughing along with her, but the sobering reality was that if he knew what she knew, he certainly wouldn’t be laughing. But her own mirth was certainly cathartic.
“I—I—oh, Neill, it is funny. Though I don’t suppose you’ll ever get the joke.” She had laughed so hard there were tears in her eyes.
“You and Eric always had jokes that didn’t include me.”
“You were hardly ever around, and even when you were, you never wanted to be included as far as we could tell,” she retorted. “Besides, I’m not through talking about this—this supposed attraction between Eric and me. How could I act to convince you and everyone else that we’ve never been more than friends?”
“Look, I’m merely pointing out—”
“How about if I take up with someone else? That Storm fellow with all the muscles, the guy Viv was talking about, for instance. Would that let everyone know that I have no interest in Eric? Or how about the bellman? He’s kind of cute with that thin little mustache, you know. Would that make it clear that the bride and groom’s problems have nothing whatever to do with me?” She started to laugh again.
Neill said nothing. He was exasperating. He talked when she least wanted to hear what he had to say, and when she wanted him to comment, he kept quiet. Anyway, she was exhausted. “Lovely night,” Bianca said, walking faster. “Lovely wedding. Lovely company.”
“Must you be so sarcastic?”
“It’s the only way I seem to get through to you.”
They were approaching the front of the hotel, and several guests were exiting noisily from the bar.
“There’s that bellman,” Bianca said, spotting him inside the lobby. “Maybe I’ll chat him up. Do you suppose he’s off tomorrow? I’m not doing anything in the morning. I wish I knew Storm’s room number. Perhaps your mother could tell me.” Oh dear, she regretted that last remark, but too late—she’d already said it, which was a pity because she really liked Viv.
Neill narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s enough, Bianca. I’ll walk you to your room and then I’m going to have a drink. Maybe a double.”
“Good idea. It might loosen you up.”
They went inside the building and down the crooked little hall. She started up the narrow staircase, and Neill followed behind. “Don’t feel as if you have to spend the weekend looking after me, Neill. Anyway, chivalry is already dead and crime at this hotel is nil.”
“Don’t be so sure. Everyone was talking about a burglary when I arrived. And Gen’s hyper about kidnappers. She’s alerted everyone at the hotel to be on the lookout for them. In fact—”
“I don’t want to hear about any of this. Here we are at my room, and I hope you have a lovely evening. I hope—”
“Bianca,” Neill said. “Will you please shut up.” Without warning, he pulled her roughly into his arms and kissed her open mouth.
It wasn’t just any kiss. It was thorough. It made her knees go weak and heart thump against her ribs. Before she could respond, and she would have if she hadn’t been taken by surprise, it was over.
“Good night, Bianca,” Neill said gruffly. He turned abruptly on his heel and disappeared around the bend in the hall. She heard his footsteps on the stairs and then he was gone.
Bianca sagged against the wall. Neill Bellamy had kissed her. And it had been a real kiss, not merely lip service. And he’d left her
wanting more.
But evidently one kiss was enough for him. Just like one night in the gazebo was enough for him.
It took her a few minutes to pull herself together. She was so tired. And she still had to go get Tia.
And then she’d have to get through the rest of this stupid wedding. Somehow.
NEILL WIPED Bianca’s lipstick from his mouth with his handkerchief and headed for the Cygnet Club, the hotel bar, where he found Nana entertaining an audience of enthralled guests.
“And then there was the time I wore nothing but veils. It was in Paris after the war.”
“What war?” someone called out.
“World War Two, of course. The Big One.” She smiled beatifically at her questioner.
“It was in front of a fountain in the rain, very impromptu, but my fluter—that’s what I always called the flautist who accompanied my dances—insisted that he sit in the automobile and play so he wouldn’t get his flute wet. You can’t play a wet flute, he said, and I only knew that I had to dance, had to emote, had to gather a crowd. The inimitable rain of Paris, so soft and gentle, and of course my veils became quite wet, but I danced anyway because I had to express the Truth of my Being. Afterward a man came up to me, he had been injured in battle, and he held my hand and told me he now understood the meaning of Life, which was...”
Kevin edged around a bar stool and leaned against the bar beside Neill. “She could go on like this for hours. Isn’t it time you looked after Nana?” he said glumly.
Neill ordered a drink. “Where’s Dad? Where’s Hainsworth? Where’s Joe? Don’t they take shifts like we do?”
“Joe’s already scooped Nana down from the bar, where she was doing the cancan. Dad and Rhonda and Fawn have retired to their suite for the evening. Hainsworth, I hope, is spoonfeeding Genevieve her tranquilizers. Anyway, I thought you might know what’s going on over there.” He gestured with a nod toward a far corner, where Lizzie was engaged in earnest conversation with Eric. Caroline was nowhere in sight.
“Sorry, I don’t have a clue.” As if he didn’t have enough to think about, he told himself.
RSVP...Baby Page 6
