"You missed it?"
He sank into his chair. "Yes, I'm afraid so."
Elinor straightened and he had a hunch she was worried about him.
"But," he fastened his eyes on hers, "don't think it's your fault. I'm always glad of an excuse to get out of a meeting."
Relief didn't flood her eyes; instead, confusion arose. "You purposefully avoid meetings with your mother?"
He ducked his head, focusing on his feet. "You didn't think I'd ever go against my mother, did you?" Jess had the same thought. The two women both thought he was a pansy, no doubt.
"Well, the way you spoke about her—"
"She can be scary." It was the first thought out of his mouth. For some reason, he wanted to explain that he wasn't a pansy. At least, not all the time. "Intensely scary. And she has this belief that I'm to take over her spot as the CEO, but there's this—" He clammed up, realizing he was about to mention Lucy. And the one thing he didn't want was to involve Elinor with the nightmare called Lucy.
If only he could get rid of Lucy. And change his mother's attitude. Then maybe Edward could finally live the life he'd always wanted.
"It's rare," Elinor abruptly said, "to hear someone not wanting to become the CEO of a multi-billion corporation."
He looked up in surprise. Jess would have made fun of him, not praised him.
"It's not that impressive. If you had to endure one of those meetings, you'd be the same, I bet."
She smiled. "Meetings can't be that bad. I do them all the time with my employees."
"Yeah, but you make them fun. You make sure to point out one good thing everyone has done." A habit he wished his mother could do once in her life. "And you always bring snacks."
She laughed as if he'd made a joke. "I guess I'm used to how my father did meetings—" she stopped, eyes shut in pain. After a moment, she resumed, "Does meetings."
It took Edward a second to realize she had corrected herself from using the past tense in regards to her father. At least that told him the man was still alive.
He leaned forward. "You miss him a lot, don't you?"
She put on a brave smile, like a little girl who was trying to pretend the world wasn't crashing around her. "Of course, but that's natural, I'm sure."
He clasped his hands, the memory of his own father rising—and the high toll that grief extracted from him. "Yeah, it is." No one should have to go through so much grief, and yet, not only he and Elinor, but also her whole family.
"Your sister still hiding?"
Elinor blinked as if stunned he'd remember such a thing. Then again, he hadn't bothered to ask about her family. He'd been too afraid it might make her realize how in love he was with her.
"Um, yes," she said after a moment.
"She eating?" That had been one of the hardest things to do: eat and exist as if everything was fine.
"A little," was her reply.
That was better than him. "I don't think I ate anything for a week after my father died. Not until..." the funeral. Where he met the charming, innocent-facade of Lucy, allowing her to sink her claws into his grief-stricken mind.
He mentally growled at the image. No one had tried to help him, but that didn't mean Elinor and her family had to suffer the same. At the very least, he could be a friend.
"Was there something she used to do with her father that she really loved?"
Elinor leaned back as if having trouble remembering the good times. "Let's see, there was one thing she used to love. On certain weekends of the year, my father would take us riding."
"Riding?" That was definitely not an activity he'd ever participated in.
"Like on horses."
The images of the giant creatures racing with a bunch of others in a stupid race popped before his mind. "Horses? You know how to ride a horse?" He had thought that was only for athletic people obsessed with winning, not sweet girls who knew how to run a business.
She cocked her head. "Do you not?" Her tone suggested she couldn't believe he lacked the skill.
He decided to lay out the whole truth. "I'm afraid I have never even seen one in person." And he had no wish to change that fact.
But Elinor wilted at his statement. "That's too bad. They're wonderful animals."
He suddenly wanted to change his view on horses. "You keep horses at your house?"
She shook her head. "No, sadly. My father grew up with horses and knew how hard it was to take care of them, especially in a city, and he didn't want them cooped up like that. But he wanted to instill in us the same love so he would take us to a friend of his that owns a bunch of horses."
A friend. That was exactly what they needed.
"When was the last time you all went to this horse place?"
"I'm not sure. Months, at least. Dad was about to take us before..." she suddenly looked away and he wished he could reach across and squeeze her hand. The little sister might be in pain, but Elinor was also in a lot of pain. This horse place might help them all get over their grief.
Elinor, however, rallied and smiled as if determined to not let anyone see the giant lake of pain inside. "Before his stroke," she finished as if she hadn't exhibited a moment of weakness.
The girl was too good. Not only was she smart, driven, and kind, expertly running a company without any formal training, but she was also strong and courageous, bravely putting on a happy demeanor while dying inside.
Edward covered her hand with his, no longer caring if it risked showing his heart; he needed her to know she wasn't alone with her pain. "You should go to that horse place."
She seemed to freeze as if that was the last place she wanted to go. "It's a bit too far."
"How far?"
"About three hours."
That wasn't far at all. "Tomorrow is Saturday." He squeezed her hand. "How about I take you?" He'd love to see her face riding a helicopter.
Her eyes widened. "Me?"
The way she said it made it sound like he'd just asked her on a date. Now that he thought about it, it was kind of like a date.
He immediately pulled away. "And your family," he clarified, nixing the helicopter idea. Being alone with Elinor in the office was tempting enough—a whole day with just her would break the walls around his heart for sure. "Your youngest sister, this might help her. Being left with nothing to do," the image of Lucy popped up and he tried to shoo it away, "is not a good combination when grieving."
She nodded as if in a daze. "I, uh, I'll have to talk with my mother and see if the owner of the horse farm would be willing to have us."
"Okay, call me when you know, then."
She raised her eyebrows. "Call?"
He winced. He'd avoided ever letting her call him since he hadn't wanted his mother to figure out he was still seeing Elinor. But with Frank—hopefully—signing those contracts, he could argue Elinor was only inquiring about the businesses.
"Yes." He pulled out a business card from his briefcase. "My number is on this."
She accepted it with great care. "Thank you. I'll let you know tonight."
Chapter 12
Edward endured two miserable hours pacing his hotel room before his phone finally rang. Unfortunately, it wasn't Elinor, but a text from Frank.
"Convinced my aunt. Signing underway."
That was almost as good as a phone call from Elinor. Now he could finally break the good news to her. Assuming she would ever call. Maybe her family was against it? Perhaps they felt it odd or intrusive for him to offer to drive them for several hours to a place he'd never been. What if he had offended them? Maybe now they'd never respond to him at all.
He paced the floor for another ten minutes, unable to convince himself to phone Elinor first. Thankfully, his phone rang instead.
Except it was Fanny's face that lit up the screen. No doubt she wanted to berate him for conniving John to sign the papers.
With a sigh, he answered the call. "Hi, Fanny."
"How's the book?"
It took him sev
eral seconds before he realized she spoke of Jess' book. Since he hadn't yet read it, the only thing he could come up with was, "It's interesting."
"I've started to read it."
"You bought the book?"
"No, she gave out a copy to me and Mother. They're signed. John thinks we could get good money from it so I didn't want to read the whole thing and scuff the pages, but I peeked at a few pages and it's not so bad. Childish and boring, but not too bad. I can't believe she makes so much money with the things. Can you believe so many people think reading is fun?"
"Some people must enjoy it a lot."
"People are so weird sometimes," she continued, "Including my own brother who thought it was brilliant to skip a meeting with Jessica Morton to read her dumb book. If I was her, I would think you had no interest in me."
Since that was the exact truth, Edward refrained from speaking—not that Fanny noticed, anyway.
"You really need some lessons in romance, Edward, or you're never going to find a proper wife to support you when you take over the reins from Mother."
He decided to try to nip this supposed romance with Jess in the bud. "I don't think Jess would be pleased to be labeled a proper wife."
"Jess? You call her Jess? How cute! I noticed she calls you Ed. Already in the nicknames, I see."
So much for trying to kill the romance talk.
"But she really shouldn't call you Ed. It doesn't sound very CEOish. But we'll deal with that later. First, I've invited the Mortons over for dinner tonight. Her parents still need to meet you so I expect you here within the hour—"
"I'm not in Connecticut."
"Don't be ridiculous. You have no reason to be anywhere else."
"I'm in New York to oversee the transition of your father-in-law's businesses."
She gasped. "The Mortons have already bought it? Mother gave no indication of that."
"That's because they're not buying it."
"Don't you dare tell me you sold it to the Dashwoods."
That wasn't an accusation he'd been expecting. "Did they want to buy it?" If so, he still had time to back out of the deal with Frank.
"Are you still with the hussies?"
Edward had to clench his teeth to avoid lashing out for using that word. It would only aggravate the situation. "You didn't answer my question."
"You didn't answer mine!
Knowing he'd never win, he gave in. "I promised Frank to help him with the transition—"
"Frank Churchill? Robert could do the job, then."
"The contract has me named specifically—"
She scoffed. "You did that on purpose—"
"I do it all the time." It was one of the few ways he could successfully defy his Mother.
"I can't believe you're still in love with that girl when you have a real woman like Jessica Morton waiting for you."
"She's not—"
"I'm calling Mother."
"Fanny," he began in frustration, but she hung up before he could say another word.
He glared at the phone, then shut it off. A useless gesture of defiance, but it made him feel better. If they were going to team up to berate him, they could leave it in a voicemail.
He sank into the stiff chair by the window and drummed his fingers on the padded armrest. Fanny would no doubt convince his mother to make a dramatic intervention. And, knowing them, they would both do something to make the Dashwood girls' lives miserable. And it would be all his fault.
He covered his face, wishing he had more control over his frustrating family members. He should just cancel taking the Dashwood family to that horse place and flee. Maybe if he was in Connecticut by tonight, his family would leave the Dashwoods alone.
But that would only work if Fanny wasn't their in-law. She harbored hatred toward them long before he had entered the picture. Him being around them only gave her the excuse she craved to reign in terror over them. And with her husband as the power of attorney over her father-in-law's finances, she had a lot of power to work with.
At least he had saved Norland from Fanny's grasp. And the Dashwoods still had their home and whatever money their father had given them before his stroke. Elinor hadn't mentioned it but judging by her meticulous books and the way she ran Norland, he'd bet she had a nice pile of savings for emergencies.
Speaking of Elinor, wasn't she supposed to call? Unlike his family, she might not leave a message and assume he was ignoring her.
Without another thought, he turned his phone on, expecting it to ping with several voicemails from his family. To his surprise, the phone remained silent. Either his sister had failed to reach his mother or they were still cooking up a nefarious scheme.
He drummed his fingers on the armrest once more, ironically wishing for anyone to call just so he didn't have to continue waiting. But when it was his mother that called, he immediately wished he'd kept the phone off.
"Hi, Mother."
"You'll be visiting the Mortons on Monday."
He wanted to ask if she had a ring picked out for him as well, but kept his mouth shut.
"Miss Morton has heard praise of how well you can improve a business and wants to see you in action with her parents' corporation."
Well, at least he'd be doing something he was good at. Though he highly doubted Jess heard any praise. Most likely his mother dictated what would happen and her parents didn't have the guts to refuse.
"How long will I be staying?"
"It's in the email," was the reply before she hung up. A second later, his phone pinged with the incoming email.
With a sigh, he perused the short letter. He'd be there a whole month, apparently. She probably would have arranged for him to stay longer, but he noticed he was due back in New York on the exact date required in the contract with Frank. That meant she had seen the contracts and had accepted them. Which meant Norland was safe at last. Even better, he could still see Elinor—a fact he was surprised his mother hadn't arranged to avoid.
Then again, she hadn't scheduled for him to leave tonight, but on Monday afternoon, three whole days away. She must have assumed he had no plans for the weekend—something that normally occurred for him. But not this weekend. Assuming Elinor would ever call him.
He started to imagine a dreary weekend by himself in the hotel. When he added a miserable month in Jess' presence, he sunk lower in the chair, wishing it could swallow him whole. But his entire attitude changed when Elinor's name lit up on his phone when it rang.
"Elinor! I'm so glad you called!" He immediately regretted those words. He sounded far too eager—never mind the fact that was how he truly felt.
"You didn't think I would?" He could hear the smile in her voice and wished he could see it.
Trying to regain his dignity, he said in a calmer voice, "I was afraid the wait meant bad news. Will the horse people take us tomorrow?"
"Yes, they said they would—"
He silently pumped the air in elation.
"But your sister called a few moments ago."
His elation died.
"She mentioned she was coming into town tomorrow," Elinor continued.
"She did?" Edward tried to keep the dread out of his voice. So, the plan was more nefarious than he had assumed.
"Has she spoken to you lately?"
"She's left a few messages," was all he was going to say. "Did she mention when she'd arrive?"
"Tomorrow evening."
So, his sister did not know about the planned outing. "Good. That gives us plenty of time." If they left early enough, he could have the best day of his life with Elinor, then scamper away before his sister discovered where he'd been.
As if reading his mind, Elinor said, "We'll probably need to leave early—"
"Name the time and I'll be there tomorrow." He hoped it was near seven.
Like an angel, she said, "Seven?"
She was too much like his soulmate. "Sounds perfect."
"And, uh," she hesitated and he held his breath, wondering if sh
e was going to address something his sister had said. He had no doubt Fanny had included disparaging remarks during her chat with Elinor.
To his surprise, however, Elinor simply asked if he'd be okay with pizza on the way home. Considering he couldn't remember the last time he had pizza, he wasn't entirely sure about the offer, but if her family liked it, he was sure he'd enjoy it as well.
Unfortunately, his phone vibrated, alerting him that his mother was interrupting the call. For her to call so soon after her previous one could only mean one thing: she was livid. As to why she was livid, that depended on the situation, but ignoring her certainly wouldn't help.
"Sorry, Elinor, my mother is calling. I have to go. Send me a text to let me know if everything is a go, all right?" He'd prefer a call, but with his sister and mother already hatching a plot, he didn't need his mother to see multiple calls from Elinor as well.
"Yes, of course," was Elinor's gracious reply.
"Thank you." He then switched to his mother's call and kept his voice as calm as possible. "Hello, Mother."
"Ms. Churchill wants to change the dates of the transition."
That was new. "Did she have a reason as to why?"
"No, and I don't want the dates changed. Fix this." The line went dead.
Edward sighed, then dutifully called Frank for more information. Except he was as surprised as Edward.
"Why would she change the dates?" Frank asked.
"That's why I called you."
Frank vented a long, frustrated sigh. "You know what, I think I know what she's up to. I have a trip planned and this is her way to make me cancel it."
"I thought she went to the hospital for that."
"Yeah, well, I've learned a lot this past month and I'm tired of her games. I'm going on this trip. Don't you dare let her change those dates. Make up an excuse, lie if you have to, but I'm going."
Edward felt the same way for the trip to the horse farm tomorrow. "I'll make sure you can go."
"Thank you, Edward. You're the best."
Smitten With Sense: A Modern Sense And Sensibility Retelling (Pemberley Estates Book 4) Page 9
