Secret North: Book 4 of The Wishes Series

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  The last thing I wanted to be was her uncle, but for the first time in my life I was prepared to take the good with the bad because the good was so freaking perfect. “I’m a great uncle, Malibu,” I told her. “Bridget will vouch for me.”

  The little girl calmed down in an instant, moving on at the mention of Bridget’s name. “Why doesn’t she go to dance class any more?”

  I had no idea. I didn’t even know Bridget took dance lessons.

  “She quit?” Bente asked Ivy. “She was so looking forward to it.”

  Ivy reached for the salad. “She only lasted a few lessons, I’m not sure why.”

  “Is Bridget going to be in the wedding?” asked Fabergé.

  I looked to Bente for answers. If by chance she didn’t want her, I was prepared to bump Adam aside in favour of Bridget as my best man.

  “You can all be in the wedding,” she replied, inciting a round of excited squeals that made me wince.

  Ivy loaded up my already full plate with more food. She was a feeder. It was almost a term of endearment. “We’ll go over some dress ideas next week,” she suggested.

  “You’re not going to have much time,” hinted Bente.

  “Why?”

  Bente put her hand on my knee. That was the moment I realised I’d been agitatedly bouncing it. “Because we’re getting married on October twenty-fifth,” she announced.

  Ivy quickly totted up how much time she had to work with. “That’s barely two months away!” she barked. “What’s the hurry? Are you knocked up?” She glared at me. “Did you knock her up?”

  “No,” I replied calmly. I wanted to add a really crass comment to put her in her place, but held off because the girls were staring me down from across the table.

  “We just don’t want to wait,” explained Bente.

  “Where’s your ring?” She glanced at her sister’s bare left hand before glaring at me again. “What kind of idiot proposes without a ring?”

  “You need to buy a ring,” Fabergé agreed disapprovingly. “A really nice one.”

  “Inconsiderate schmuck,” mumbled Ivy. “How do you even sleep at night, Ryan?”

  “Usually naked, next to your sister.” The highly inappropriate comment tumbled out, earning me a stiff elbow to the ribs from Bente. I chose not to remind her of our no violence agreement. I deserved it.

  “I have a ring, Ivy,” she explained. “It’s being resized.”

  Ivy pulled a sucking-lemon face, but didn’t apologise. Perhaps realising we weren’t going to get one, Bente moved on. She reached across the table and rested her hand on her sister’s forearm. “Everything is wonderful,” she assured her. “Be happy for me.”

  Ivy covered Bente’s hand and almost cracked a smile. “I am happy.”

  “I’m happy for you too,” chimed Fabergé. “He’ll be a good uncle.”

  I smiled at the unlikely ally. “Thank you, Fabergé.”

  “I was happy first!” roared Animal.

  Exchanges like this made me wonder what the hell I was getting myself into. Then I had the good sense to look at the beautiful woman next to me. It was the only reminder I needed that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

  54. TRAITOR

  Bente

  Informing Ivy and the girls about the wedding was a cakewalk compared to sharing the news with the Décaries’. Nothing worked simply in that family. I could only surmise that Fiona had caught wind of something because a simple request to meet at their house turned into a full-blown gala dinner.

  Attendance was mandatory, which pissed Charli off no end. Her mood was foul from the minute she walked in. Everybody got a curt hello and very little else.

  “Why the long face, Charli?” Jean-Luc asked.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered unconvincingly.

  I didn’t catch his next remark, but Adam did. “Stop, Dad,” he warned. “Leave her alone.” Most of the time Charli could hold her own. When she couldn’t, Adam stepped in. It was one of the things I liked best about him.

  Jean-Luc moved his attention to Bridget, who was her usual bubbly self and oblivious to the tension. He scooped her off her feet and kissed her.

  “Where’s Mamie?” she asked, putting both hands to his cheeks.

  “Upstairs,” he replied. “She’ll be down shortly.”

  Bridget wriggled and Jean-Luc lowered her to her feet. “I’m going to get her,” she announced, making a beeline for the foyer.

  After some stunted conversation, Charli sat beside me on the long couch, looking no happier than when she arrived. Adam opted for the couch opposite. The sweet wink he gave her as he sat was supposed to be discreet, but I saw it. She gave a tiny smile in return, which led me to think her bad mood wasn’t frog related.

  Even Ryan realised something was going on, and he was usually clueless. Probably looking for a reason to leave the room, he offered to organise drinks. “Yes, champagne would be lovely, darling,” interjected Fiona, making her usual grand entrance through the glass doors. Bridget trailed behind her wearing a red Pashmina shawl like a cape. She jumped onto her father’s lap forcefully enough to make him groan. “Slow down, baby,” he told her.

  Bridget pulled her shawl around her body. “This one’s a good flier.”

  Adam kissed her head. “Just fly slowly.”

  Ryan stood up and offered Bridget his hand. “Let’s go, Bridge. I saw cake in the kitchen.” She didn’t need asking twice scrambled off Adam’s lap and grabbed Ryan’s hand.

  “Bring some champagne back, darling,” called Fiona. I was certain her demand wasn’t in anticipation of our announcement. Champagne flowed like water in that house.

  This dinner shaped up to be nothing like the last one I’d attended. The air was thick. Ryan was smart to get out. I wished he’d taken me with him instead of Bridget. When Charli left the room for the first time, I grabbed the opportunity to talk in private and followed her into the foyer.

  “Charli, what’s going on?”

  She stood stiffly. “Nothing.”

  She’d left me with nowhere to go but I pressed on. “You don’t seem very happy.”

  Her muted whisper didn’t quite match the gesture of throwing out her arms. “Everyone’s entitled to a bad day, Bente. Today happens to be mine.”

  I nodded, unwilling to press her any more. The conversation should’ve ended there but Ryan appeared.

  “How are you, Tink?” he asked. “You’re a little out of form this evening.”

  “I’m not here to entertain you,” she replied dully.

  “Lucky,” he slyly replied. “Because you’re not even remotely entertaining tonight.”

  I grabbed his arm in an attempt to pull him into line. It didn’t work. “We have some news to share, so if you could put on a smile and pretend to be happy, I’d appreciate it,” he told her.

  The sour face she pulled lasted only seconds. “When’s the big day?”

  I widened my eyes. “You know?”

  “Of course I know. Ryan told Adam and Adam told me.” She smiled for the first time and I gratefully smiled back. “I’m happy for you,” she whispered, hugging me. “Truly.”

  The conversation was cut short when the glass doors slid open and the queen appeared. “Bente, darling, there you are,” she crooned, hooking her arm though mine and wrenching me away. “Come. I have something for you.”

  Ryan said nothing as she led me in the direction of the stairs. When he dared to wave at me when I looked back at him, I almost reconsidered my decision to marry him.

  The second floor of the Décarie home was as opulent and vast as the first. The longest carpet runner I’d ever seen extended all the way to the end of the hall. I counted six doors before we stopped at the last one. Fiona waved me in ahead of her. My eyes involuntarily darted in every direction as I checked out the room. I quickly worked out that I was standing in the king and queen’s private domain – the master bedroom.

  It was so magnificent I could barely breathe. The room was huge an
d the ceiling was high. The four-poster bed looked like something out of a fairy-tale, and there wasn’t a thing out of place. Everything was expertly coordinated, including the row of silver photo frames lining the dressing table. I desperately wanted to get a closer look but remembered my manners and stayed by the doorway.

  Fiona must’ve noticed the Cinderella moment I was having. “This is my favourite room,” she told me, smiling. “It’s not masculine, unlike the rest of our home.”

  It was definitely girly. The lacy canopy over the bed, sheer white drapes and crystal chandelier didn’t strike me as being design choices Jean-Luc would’ve made.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said truthfully.

  Fiona smiled again, brighter this time. “Perhaps you and Ryan might settle in a lovely big home once you’re married.”

  My heart began thumping. She was on to us. “You know?”

  Her trademark demure giggle answered for her. “I’m far more perceptive than you might think,” she replied. “And I know my sons better than they think. I knew Ryan was close to proposing. He clearly adores you.”

  “I love him too.”

  “Are you ready for this life, Bente?” she asked curiously.

  I wasn’t sure how to answer her. I found the Décarie lifestyle fascinating. I’d never seen such grandeur in all my life, but it didn’t scare me. The three Décarie men worked extremely hard. They were savvy, brilliant businessmen. As far as I was concerned they deserved to reap the benefits associated with that.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But I’m not planning to revolt against it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “No plans to live in a shack on the beach?” she hinted.

  I smiled down at the plushest beige carpet ever made. “No, I’m a New York girl through and through.”

  “And what about the wedding?” she asked. “What are your plans?”

  “I’d like to share the day with family and friends. It’s a celebration, right?”

  “Indeed,” she beamed, clasping her hands together. “It will be wonderful to see Ryan walk down the aisle. It would mean the world to me. We didn’t have that privilege with Adam. “

  I suddenly felt like I was betraying Charli in the worst way imaginable. She’d spent the past six years standing her ground and bucking the system, and I was undoing all her good work by agreeing to play by the rules. That made me a traitor.

  Fiona seemed to pick up on my angst, and the root of it. “Just to be clear,” she stressed. “I sincerely adore my daughter-in-law.”

  “I do too,” I whispered.

  She walked to the dresser, picked up a frame and studied it. “I couldn’t have wished for a better mother for my granddaughter,” she continued. “And I know how much she loves my son.”

  It wasn’t a confession I expected to hear. It made me wonder if she’d ever shared the sentiment with the girl in question. She held out the frame.

  The photo of Adam, Charli and a tiny Bridget made me smile. Charli had shorter hair. Adam had messy hair and baby Bridget had no hair.

  “I just wish she was more mindful of the fact that her family extends further than the three of them,” she continued.

  “I’m sure she knows,” I said weakly.

  “When Charli opted out of this life the first time, she stole my son and granddaughter away too,” she said. Dread washed over me as I waited for her to speak again. I should’ve known she couldn’t shower praise on Charli without it being conditional. “I won’t tolerate losing Ryan the same way,” she warned. “You need to be very sure this is what you want. If you marry him, your life is here.”

  The queen was laying down the law and I had no skill when it came to handling her.

  “I love Ryan,” I promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She smiled at me, brightly enough to make me think she wasn’t about to claw me again. “Wonderful. That’s all I needed to hear.” She walked to a chest of drawers near the window and took out a familiar small orange box. I used the time it took her to walk back to plan my look of surprise.

  “I was in Hermès yesterday.” She handed me the box. “I saw this and immediately thought of you.”

  I pulled off the brown ribbon and held the scarf out in front of me. I wondered why it made her think of me. Then I wondered how Ryan would work a seventh scarf into his designer outfit. I killed the thought when I felt my cheeks prick with heat.

  “It’s lovely,” I replied. “Thank you.”

  She drew me into a hug. “All manner of lovely things await you, Bente,” she whispered, sounding far more threatening than she’d probably planned. “Starting with the wedding.”

  55. MEANINGFUL SMILES

  Ryan

  I had no idea what was behind Charli’s black mood. As soon as Mom and Bente were out of sight, I asked.

  “I. Am. Fine.”

  I pulled a face. “O-kay.”

  She cracked a tiny smile. “I just have a few things on my plate at the moment,” she explained. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “How’s work?”

  “Busy. I need more hours in the day.”

  “For making babies?” I hinted.

  She widened her eyes and her mouth fell open. No words followed so I spoke again. “Adam told me.”

  She shook her head, looking more pissed than before. “You know something, Ryan?”

  I grinned slyly. “No; tell me something, Charlotte.”

  “If I were you, I’d be less concerned about our business and more concerned by the fact that the queen is upstairs interrogating your fiancée.”

  “She brought her a gift.” I shrugged. “That’s all.”

  “That’s never all,” she taunted. “I’ll be surprised if you still have a fiancée when she comes back down.”

  I looked up the stairs. “Do you think I should go up there?” I asked, sounding more worried than I was comfortable with.

  Charli didn’t answer. She was already walking away, cackling like a demon.

  ***

  Announcing our engagement to my family was unnecessary. It turned out to be the worst kept secret in the room because everyone except Bridget already knew.

  Marriage was a concept that my little niece didn’t quite grasp. Her questions flew thick and fast across the dining room table. “So we can’t go to the park any more?”

  Her father answered for me. “Not unless his wife lets him.”

  Two things stopped me from stabbing Adam with my cutlery. First, the boardroom-sized dining table meant he was too far away. Second, my mother would’ve throttled me.

  “Nothing changes, Bridge,” Bente assured her. “You can go to the park whenever you want.”

  An odd look flashed across Adam’s face. It took me a moment to work out that it was probably jealousy. I had the sneaking suspicion that I’d been spending more time with his kid than he had of late.

  Charli cottoned on too. She moved quickly to change the subject. “Do you have a ring yet?” she asked, darting her eyes between the two of us.

  “It’s being resized,” replied Bente.

  I’d picked the ring up from Mr Shultz earlier that day. News of the engagement might not have been a surprise, but the presence of the ring was. I took the box, flipped the lid and angled it toward Bente.

  The list of things I knew about women was growing daily. Bente burst into tears, but because I’m well versed in craziness I knew it was because she was happy. My mother cried too, but her tears quickly turned into unadulterated wailing. “It’s lovely,” she sobbed, craning her neck to peer into the small box. “I’m so proud of you, Ryan.”

  I took the ring out and slipped it on Bente’s finger. “Perfect,” I told her, leaning to kiss her.

  Mom grabbed Bente’s hand, twisting it in every direction so the diamond twinkled as it caught the light. “Look, Jean-Luc,” she ordered. “Isn’t it lovely?”

  Dad didn’t look like he cared either way. He downed a mouthful of wine before replying
. “Exquisite.”

  Charli rolled her eyes at me from across the table, annoyed by his indifference. “Congrats, guys,” she said quietly. “I hope you have a wonderful life together.”

  Adam charged his glass and winked at Bente as he wished her luck. He then held his glass in my direction. “To meaningful smiles.”

  I’m not a sentimental man, but his words got to me. My reply came out in a croak as I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”

  Bridget held up her tumbler of juice, somehow managing not to spill it as she thrust it forward. “Let Ry come to the park every day, Bente.” Clearly, making toasts was another concept Bridget didn’t quite grasp.

  Bente played along and clinked her glass against hers. “Monday, Thursday, and all days in between.”

  56. FIFTY-EIGHT FACETS

  Bente

  Fiona Décarie must’ve been planning her eldest son’s wedding in her head for years. Before we’d even made it through the main course she’d overloaded me with a hundred suggestions for the big day. “We need to book a venue straight away,” she demanded. “Good places are booked out many months in advance.”

  “They’re not suitable for us, then,” replied Ryan. “We’re getting married October twenty-fifth.”

  He might as well have told her we were eloping. “That’s not enough time to plan properly!”

  Ryan was unmoved. “It will have to do,” he said. “We don’t want anything over-the-top anyway.”

  “You’ll need time to get your affairs in order, Ryan.” Jean-Luc had barely said a word since we’d sat at the table. The sound of his voice was almost startling and his words were downright terrifying. He made it sound like Ryan was dying.

  I wasn’t sure what he meant, but Charli and Adam did. The way he slipped his arm behind her and rubbed her back seemed designed to comfort her.

  “I’ll work it out,” replied Ryan.