2 Busy 4 Love

by Lucy Hepburn

  Christy had to catch hold of the bar to prevent herself toppling off the barstool. She had to be at the airport at six thirty, too, and there were so many things to fit in before then.

  “You will,” she stammered. “If it kills me.”

  Chapter Nine

  WILL

  12:45 p.m.

  “Hey, Nina, good to see you, honey. Say, is this the lucky guy? Ni-ice!”

  Will had followed Nina into a printer’s workshop, where they were greeted by a bustling, silver-haired woman who wore a navy apron over baggy jeans and an outsized denim shirt. He didn’t really think it was up to him to correct the woman, but hey, it’s always nice to be told you look ni-ice. He offered his hand to the woman, who shook it enthusiastically.

  In the background, he could see a brightly lit workroom filled with computers, old printing presses, and huge tables scattered with card and paper. There was a pleasing, industrious background buzz that gave the room a life of its own.

  “What, him?” Nina looked from the woman to Will, then back again. “You think this is my type, Abigail? No! He’s my boss’s…no, scrub that—he’s my friend.”

  Will gave Nina a sarcastic look. He picked up immediately on the fact that these two women knew each other well, and it looked as though they might be about to have some fun at his expense. But he was touched to be referred to as Nina’s friend.

  “Well, he’s certainly my type.” At this, Will turned the color of a beetroot with sunburn. The woman smiled warmly at Will. “Call me Abi. Any friend of Nina’s is…well, a nutjob, basically.”

  “Will Thompson. Um…yup, hi. A pleasure to meet you, Abi.”

  It wasn’t often that people surprised Will. From the neck up, Abi seemed like the perfect stereotypical grandma with her silver hair and kind, twinkly eyes. But the rest of her, plus her fun, flirty demeanor, had completely wrong-footed him.

  “Will’s my boss’s son,” Nina announced. “Sure, he’s cute, but from what I’ve seen and heard today, you’ll have to join a line, Abi.”

  What was Nina talking about? His calls from Christy? Did Nina think that he was flirting with the woman on the other end of the phone? Did she think that Christy was flirting back? That would be awesome.

  Abi rolled her eyes. “I can’t waste time in line at my age. Not unless it’s for the New York lotto mega millions.” She paused for a second, as if to imagine spending those mega millions, before clapping her hands together firmly. “Okay, you come to see the invitations, sweetie, or just to parade handsome men in my face?”

  “Are they done?” Nina’s eyes were shining with excitement. She turned to Will. “Abi has been helping out with my wedding invitations,” she explained. “She rang this morning to say they were ready.”

  “You’re getting married? Congratulations, Nina. I’m very happy for you.”

  “Thank you. Come on, let’s take a look.”

  Will followed, wondering whether he should have shaken her hand or kissed her cheek or something, but he was temporarily stumped. And ashamed of himself for the moment of wondering, back at the house, whether she might have been more than just his dad’s assistant.

  Abi lifted a large cardboard box onto the counter and, giving Nina a gleeful glance, carefully took out a bundle of the invitations.

  “Here,” Abi said gently. “You’ve done a great job, missy.”

  Will looked down at the invitations. He’d never paid much attention to stationery in the past, least of all wedding stuff, but these were kinda cute, anyone could see that. They were washed with hand-painted watercolors and engraved with copperplate lettering that somehow melted into the background. The artwork was fantastic. Somehow Nina had succeeded where every other engaged person he had ever known had failed—she had come up with cool wedding invitations.

  “Oh, Abi, I don’t know how to thank you.” Nina’s eyes had misted with tears.

  “Don’t thank me, honey, that’s all your work.”

  “You designed these yourself?” Will asked, impressed. His fingertips reached out involuntarily to stroke the alluring texture of the thick, handmade card.

  Nina nodded. “With my own fair hands. It’s kind of a hobby of mine. Look inside.”

  Carefully he opened the topmost invitation. Inside was a short, handwritten verse and a continuation of the watercolor pattern from the front.

  “Each verse is different,” Nina said excitedly. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

  Will absorbed the care and love that had gone into each one, each a miniature work of art, unique, brimming with love. For an instant, he had a glimpse into another kind of life, of family closeness and tenderness, of attention to detail for the sheer joy of bringing pleasure to the people you care about. This was the kind of life Will had never been involved with—and from where he was standing, it looked pretty cool.

  Nina grabbed Abi and hugged her tightly. “And you’re the woman who brought my vision to life. I don’t know how to thank you, Abi, I really don’t.”

  “We’ve sure been through a lot together,” Abi admitted. “But it’s been such a pleasure.”

  Back out in the car, Nina put the box of invitations carefully in the trunk, which, confusingly for Will, was located at the front where the engine ought to have been. This girl’s car was just as surprising as she was. Nina then jumped in the driver’s seat, gunned the beetle’s engine, and roared off down the street.

  “You know, Nina,” Will said, “you really should do that sort of thing professionally.”

  Nina glanced sideways at him. “Thank you,” she said simply.

  “I mean it. You’ve got something totally unique there. You know something, I had a bit of a wedding overdose last year; I lost count of the number of weddings I had to haul myself along to, and a lot of them were really cheesy—”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that—mine’s going to be great,” Nina interrupted with another warning look in his direction.

  “Sorry—naturally yours is going to be spectacular.” He raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. He didn’t want to alienate her now, not with an important point to get across, one that had hit him like a thunderbolt as they said their goodbyes to Abi. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to sound so tactless. But listen, most invitations have the same traditional look—and they must cost a fortune, and for what? To look identical to every other wedding.”

  “Why do you think I did my own? It is nice to be a bit different.”

  Will was plotting, his brain calculating at breakneck speed. “Listen, Nina, you could make a good deal of money from doing this. Turn your hobby into business!”

  Nina didn’t take her eyes off the road for a second, but her brows furrowed a fraction. “Um…”

  “Listen, Nina, this is what I do, and I do it well. I see potential in people and find an outlet for it.”

  Now she relaxed visibly, smiling as she replied. “Wow. Lucky old you. Lucky old them. Lucky old me…” But her tone was blank and unreadable.

  “I know someone,” he plouwed on, warming to his theme even more. “Guy called Chuck Kennedy. He’s in the industry. I did some work for him a couple of years back, when he was expanding into twenty-seven states.”

  “Twenty-seven, huh?”

  Nina’s tone was flat, but Will carried on regardless. “Greeting cards, that’s his thing. But you could start with wedding stationery and then diversify…Nina, this could be huge!”

  “Will…”

  Looking across into her eyes, he noticed her doubtful look. A thought came to him, and inwardly he cursed himself for not factoring it in earlier. “It’s Abi, isn’t it? She’s been part of this, too?”

  “Abi?” Nina repeated.

  Will held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. He needed her to know that he got it. “Look, Nina, I can totally see that you wouldn’t want to sidestep her if she’s been an integral part of getting your vision off the ground. But trust me, you could still
have her on board, certainly in the early days—depends on her staffing and infrastructure. But there are printing conglomerates—you could be talking national coverage within, say, twelve months. After that, you could—”

  “Okay.” Nina was laughing now. “That’s enough from you, Donald Trump.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I don’t think I’d like to go global in the next twelve months, thank you, Will.”

  “Okay, fine, the twelve months thing was just an example. You’re getting married, I understand that—”

  “I don’t think I’d like to go into business at all, actually.”

  “You don’t?” Will didn’t think he’d ever heard those words before.

  “It’s not where I’m at, really.”

  Or had he?

  “Business isn’t for everyone.”

  His father.

  “Although I do see that it’s everything to you.”

  “Well, it’s not everything. I don’t think…” Will tried to sound convincing, but then he was silent. Was she right?

  Well, so what if she was?

  “Being successful in business means a lot to me,” he went on in a low voice. “It makes me happy to achieve something. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

  “Not at all,” Nina replied, and she was clearly genuine. “Different strokes for different folks. And I’m really glad you like my invitations—”

  “They’re outstanding.”

  “So, let’s leave it at that, shall we?”

  Will stared out of the window as the car roared out of New Brunswick and set course for Manhattan.

  Was business everything to him? Of course not—he had a life! He racked his brains, trying to come up with the names of friends or acquaintances who he hadn’t met through work. There were none. Okay, so most of his closest friends were either colleagues or former colleagues. Well, of course they would be. He’d made a career out of finding the best people around—so of course some of them were going to end up as friends. He spent a lot of time with them.

  And how about girlfriends? He thought back over past relationships and, try as he might, couldn’t think of a single one since high school whom he hadn’t met through work. Even at university, his girlfriends were majoring in business, just like him.

  What was wrong with having a type?

  Putting the question to the back of his mind, he turned again toward Nina.

  “Nina, may I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” Nina chirped, swerving to avoid a little girl on a bicycle.

  “Back at the house, you said Dad might have other reasons for behaving the way he did.”

  Nina’s mouth tightened into a line. “Oh…did I?”

  “Yes, you did. See, the thing is, I do understand that bereavement is tough; Dad and I had more than our share of it when Mom died, and it can make people behave in strange ways.”

  “I know.” Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Will suddenly wondered if she had perhaps dealt with her own share of grief in her life, but this wasn’t the time to pry.

  “Look, Nina, what I’m saying is that Dad and Grandpa pretty well hated one another’s guts.”

  “Oh, that’s harsh!” Nina burst out before immediately looking as though she regretted it. “I’m sorry, Will. He’s your dad, not mine.”

  Will smiled. “That’s okay. That was harsh, you’re right. Maybe they didn’t hate one another’s guts, but let’s put it this way: if there was any love between them, I never saw it. Will that do?”

  “I guess.”

  “Grandpa Sloane Thompson was like me—or, at least, I’m just like him. It was all about business, and detail, and being meticulous, and building up his company, and looking after his staff…everything took place out there, in the real world, you know? But with Dad…” He sighed and tailed off.

  “He became a poet,” Nina finished for him.

  “He became a poet,” Will repeated.

  “The rebel.”

  “You said it.” He looked at her again. “Look, it’s not that I don’t understand him—”

  “You sure about that?” Nina pressed.

  “Of course. I know he’s got every right to be different from me and Grandpa—”

  “But you can’t forgive him for being just that.”

  He stared at her. “You think that’s it?”

  “Do you?”

  Will thought. “Well…you could be right, I guess. Though he’s never actually gone looking for my forgiveness—he’s never needed anything from me, come to that. It’s like I barely exist.”

  Nina nodded. When she looked over at him, her face was full of sympathy. “Everyone needs to be needed. But Will? I think you’re a lot more important to him than you realize.”

  “It would be nice to think so. If he needs me, then why is he behaving like a jerk? You have to admit, Nina, the Ronald Reagan thing was seriously off the radar.”

  She stared straight ahead, chewing her lip. “Oh, I don’t know, Will. It’s not for me to say. I’m sorry.”

  She looked so uncomfortable that Will began to feel her discomfort. And he was just about to tell her not to worry about it when she spoke again.

  “It’s just that…well, some things have sentimental value. Some places…”

  “It’s okay,” Will reassured her. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But you’re going to have to do something about that crippling case of loyalty you’re suffering from.”

  She smiled, obviously relieved that her interrogation was over.

  A few moments passed in contemplative silence before Nina spoke again. “Look, I need to stop here. It might take awhile, is that okay?”

  As she had already indicated and screeched around a corner into the driveway of the Brunswick Park Hotel, Will could hardly argue.

  “Sure,” he said. “I have all day.” He stopped short of adding, Thanks to Dad.

  Nina drove up the sweeping drive and parked directly in front of the steep flight of marble steps at the entrance. Will got out of the car and looked up at the hotel’s mock-Palladian pillars, the long Georgian-style windows, the expensive topiary in pots on either side of the front door.

  Nina turned to him excitedly. “I’m having a party here tonight,” she said, her green eyes gleaming. “My engagement party!”

  “Tonight? How exciting,” Will replied. Then a thought struck him. “Say, you’re a fast mover, getting your wedding invitations organized before the engagement party…what’s that all about?” he let his words tail away, realizing he was heading for a world record for tactless comments in a single day.

  “No, Will, I’m not pregnant if that’s what you’re thinking,” Nina giggled, whacking him on the arm.

  “I didn’t mean that for one moment,” Will protested, relieved to see her laugh.

  “I just don’t see the point in long engagements,” Nina said.

  “Quite right,” Will replied, not knowing if he had an opinion one way or the other, but not wanting to put his foot in it any further. He changed tack instead. “Great venue. I’ve often seen it from the road, but I’ve never been inside.”

  His hadn’t exactly been the sort of family to go out to hotels for lunches or family celebrations. Senior prom had been the first time he’d ever set foot in a hotel ballroom. Even his dad’s fiftieth had been passed over with barely a candle, let alone a cake.

  Nina reached into the trunk of the car, where she’d just put the invitations a moment earlier, and hauled out two large hessian sacks. This car was like an optical illusion.

  “Here, let me help,” Will insisted, taking them from her. “What have you got here? Swans? Doves? Are you secretly Mariah Carey?”

  “Lucky dips,” Nina did a little skip, clapping her hands. “Little gifts for the guests. Take a look.”

  Peering into one of the sacks, Will could see that it was filled with small wrapped gifts. />
  “One for guys and one for gals. I wanted everyone to take home a little memento of the occasion,” Nina explained, “but as I couldn’t think what would please everyone, I decided on a huge lucky dip. I’ve had such a good time accumulating little bits and pieces.”

  “Nice idea,” Will agreed, though he wasn’t sure. Wouldn’t it have been better to match the gifts more carefully? Still, he knew that this girl really could do well for herself if she would only consider a career in quirky party planning. But this time he kept the thought to himself.

  Nina sailed into the hotel lobby, past the receptionist who she gave a friendly wave to, as Will trailed in her wake lugging the sacks. He followed her through to a modern function suite at the rear of the building, which the staff was already decking out with balloons and streamers. Everyone seemed to know her; it looked like fun.

  Nina seemed delighted. “This is going to be so great.”

  “Looks that way,” Will agreed. “Right, what will we do with these?” He held up the sacks.

  “Hmm.” Nina stroked her chin. “I’ll need sawdust and a couple of urns or something.”

  Will looked around and spotted a giant plant pot in the corner, containing a gargantuan Swiss cheese plant that looked like it could be removable, as it was held within its own container. “How about a couple of those?”

  “Perfect!” She called over to a waiter who was perched on a stepladder hanging bunting. “Excuse me, do you have another of those pots?”

  The waiter looked in the direction she was pointing and shook his head. Nina looked crestfallen.

  “Don’t worry,” Will said. “We’ll just have to find something else. There’s no way we can allow the boys’ sack and the girls’ sack to get mixed up.” He glanced at Nina. It was like she had suddenly frozen to the spot. “What?”

  She looked up at Will, her eyes shining. “Brilliant! Just brilliant!”

  “Umm?”

  “Of course we can mix them up! How cool would that be?”