by Jo Leigh
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Bentley. I would have preferred doing this before you two got married, but now that I’ve met you, I’m feeling a little easier about things.”
“Things?”
Dan nodded. “She’s a special girl, Carter. She’s been raised carefully. Groomed, if you will. I’m sure you two have talked about her trust fund.”
Mitch thought it best to act as though he knew all about it. A real husband would, right? “Of course.”
“There’s a responsibility that comes along with ten million dollars, son. A heavy responsibility.”
Mitch was trying not to choke. Ten million dollars? What the hell was she working at the Times for? Was she nuts?
“There are certain philanthropic duties you two will have. It’s not always pleasant, but it’s part of the Brewster curse.” Dan grinned at his little joke, and Mitch thought he might be sick. Just hearing the way Dan said Brewstah with that Boston accent, the way he looked at Mitch as though he were sharing the rich man’s secret handshake, made him more uneasy than he’d been through this whole charade.
Dan looked for a response, and all Mitch could muster was, “Yes, sir.”
“There’s the cottage in the Hamptons. The church in the Commons. The hospital—I’m sure Bentley’s told you of our work with Boston Memorial.”
Mitch nodded.
“Then there’s the issue of an heir. I know Mother has gone on about this, but the fact is, you two need to have a son. As soon as you can. The conditions of the trust are very specific, and try as our lawyers might, there’s nothing we can do to change it.”
Dan sat forward and studied him seriously. “I want my girl to have the kind of life she deserves, Carter. She’s not been bred for an ordinary life. Bentley’s got a fine pedigree. Just as you have. She’s had her fun, now it’s time for her to come back to Boston. Have a child. Take her station.”
“I don’t think she’s ready to give up her job, sir. She’s very happy at the Times.”
“That’s where you come in. I want you to talk to her, Carter. You seem like a very sensible young man. I’m sure there’s a lot you want out of life yourself. It all depends on an heir, you see. A child.”
Mitch did see. He understood now why Bentley had been so upset this morning. And why she’d needed Carter in the first place. He stood up. “I’ve got to go upstairs now, sir.”
Dan stood, too, and shook Mitch’s hand. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Carter. She loves you. She’ll do what she has to, for you.”
Mitch pulled his hand back, more upset than he cared to admit by this little man-to-man talk. He’d never guessed that becoming Carter would become so complicated. All he’d wanted was the story.
Now, when he’d just realized he’d fallen in love with Bentley, he fully understood that he could never have her. He could never be a Carter. And a Carter was the only man who would do.
Chapter Twelve
Bentley didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d thought about undressing, but she didn’t want to seem like the whore of Babylon. She’d turned on the television, but after she listened to the hurricane update and figured the hotel wasn’t going to be swept away—at least not tonight—she’d turned it off.
The honor bar held her interest for a bit. Particularly the chocolate. And then there was the brushing of the teeth.
Now, a good half hour after Mitch should have been back, she began to worry. Not that anything bad had happened to him—he was the most resourceful person she’d ever met—but that something about Colker had waylaid him.
She didn’t want to think about it. She wanted their first time together to be more important than Darren Colker. But just because she’d found herself liking Mitch, it didn’t mean he’d become a totally different person. If an opportunity had arisen for Mitch to follow a lead, then that’s where he’d be.
Bentley went to the bathroom and brushed her hair again. She could see the bathtub in the mirror. That big old heart-shaped Jacuzzi where she’d first seen Mitch in his birthday suit. God, he was a fine-looking man. She hadn’t realized he had a body until today. It was his clothes. The bowling shirts from the fifties, the jeans with the holes in the knees, the dressy T-shirt he used for formal occasions. Who would have guessed that beneath all that was a washboard stomach and death-defying shoulders?
Of course she’d also seen another heretofore unnoticed attribute, but she’d think about that later. When he came back. If he came back.
She tossed her brush on the counter, then went back into the bedroom. The wind had picked up again and was rattling the windows. She stared out at the fast-moving clouds rushing past her, and it felt as though time itself were running out.
Where was he? Had the trip to the gift shop given him time to reconsider? Had he remembered who he was with?
Before this weekend, Mitch had told anyone who would listen all about her foibles. He’d laughed at her mania for organization, her files, her emergency supplies. The words “anal retentive” were used in nearly every other sentence. To call them co-workers was stretching things. They were rivals in the true sense of the word. So did this trip to Hawaii change all that?
Or was this just a brief respite in a continuing battle of wills?
She honestly didn’t know. He’d found out her biggest secret and used it to get what he wanted. She couldn’t afford to forget that, either. It was still possible that he could say something, do something to blow her charade out of the water.
Another thought chilled her. What if he’d found out not just about Carter but about the trust fund? Was it possible all this wasn’t about Colker but about money?
No. It couldn’t be that. He would have done something, tipped his hand in some way. There had been many opportunities for him to bring up the subject, and he hadn’t. He was a good actor, but not that good. If there was one thing she’d learned by being a Brewster, it was how to spot freeloaders. Nothing had set off her radar, and more important, Babs trusted him. No one got past Babs.
Mitch had managed to endear himself to her parents and, she might as well admit it, to her. Shockingly, she actually liked the guy. A lot. Okay, that was true, and it would probably color their relationship from now on. But did she love him?
An hour ago she would have said yes. Now? Could she love a man like Mitch? He was from another world, as foreign to her as the dark side of the moon. She was a Brewster, with all that entailed. Money did strange things to people, and who could say what Mitch would do when he found out who she really was?
She focused again on the outside world. Maybe she was just being paranoid. He’d probably come bursting in any minute, filled with excitement and raring to go. She’d see that look in his eye, and she’d know that none of it mattered, only the two of them and the moment.
As if in punctuation, she heard the key in the lock and turned as Mitch came inside. She smiled just looking at him, until she saw his face.
It wasn’t the look she wanted—it was the look she feared.
“Sorry I’m late. I got sidetracked.”
Bentley turned to the window quickly, trying hard not to let her hurt show. “No problem.”
“I ran into your father in the lobby.”
“Oh?” She heard Mitch put his paper bag down.
“We had a little man-to-man talk.”
With that, she swung around. “What did he say?”
Mitch had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize all the implications. I was after the story. It was never about prying into your life.”
“What did he say?” She’d been such a fool. Why hadn’t she considered that her parents would take Mitch into their confidence? That they would try to use him to get what they wanted from her?
He walked toward her, but stopped before he could touch her. “He told me about the trust fund.”
“And?”
“And about you needing to have a baby.”
She crossed her arms
to ward off a sudden chill. “That must have been very entertaining. Now you know all the little secrets of the Brewster clan.”
“Wait—”
“I’m sure he talked about my responsibilities, right? About my duty to those less fortunate.” She walked by him, intending to sit on the bed, but there was no way she could be still. “I’ll wager he didn’t tell you all of it.”
“You don’t have to—”
“He probably omitted the part about Mom’s spending habits. About the fact that their portion of what Grandad left them is nearly gone. That my part of the trust fund, if I get it, will also be used to bail them out. To keep the cottage, to throw the parties, to buy the gowns and the jewels. He didn’t mention that, did he?”
Mitch shook his head. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do. Now you know that any husband of mine will be used for stud services. The rest is immaterial. Oh, they want blue blood, all right, but more important, they want fertility.”
“Your father seemed concerned about your happiness, Bentley. It wasn’t just about the money.”
“I know exactly what my father was concerned with, Mitch.”
“Maybe you could talk to them?”
“You think I haven’t?” She went to the closet and pulled a dress off the hanger. You think I haven’t heard about my duty all my life?”
“So tell them to go to hell.”
“What?”
“Tell them to go fly a kite. If it’s that bad, why stick around?”
She looked at him, so earnest and certain. “It’s not that easy.”
He came toward her, the sadness in his face just moments ago now changed to righteous indignation. “Why not? You’re good at your job. You have your own apartment. You can make out fine.”
“And what happens to them if I turn my back?”
“From what I know about Babs, she’ll take care of herself.”
Bentley shook her head. “You don’t understand.”
Mitch lost his fierceness, and she wanted him to get it back. She didn’t like the way this was going. Not one bit.
“I think I do,” he said. “Ten million dollars is a lot of money.”
“I don’t care about the money.”
“No? That makes you pretty damn unique.”
“You would do it? Have a baby just to get the money?”
“Damn straight. It wouldn’t mean I wouldn’t care about the kid. But you can buy a lot of rattles with ten million bucks.”
Bentley looked at the dress in her hand. It was a Donna Karan, and it had cost twelve hundred dollars. Her shoes were Ferragamos, her purse Gucci. Was she really willing to give all that up? Or was she just a younger version of Babs?
“It’s not a crime to want it, you know. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“It doesn’t make me Saint Joan, either.”
Mitch took the dress from her hands and tossed it on the bed. “Who said you have to be a saint? Bet you’ll do a lot of good with that trust fund. I can’t think of anyone who would be more generous.”
She looked into his eyes, but they were blurred from her own tears. “I can’t walk away. I’ve tried. I’m no better than they are.”
He pulled her into his arms, and the comfort there was overwhelming. She felt safe for the first time in years. His arms were steady and his chest was strong, and she’d confessed her sins and he still held her tight. The tears that ran down her cheeks were more grateful than sad.
“You’re not bad, kiddo. Neither are they. It’s just the way of the world. You got the silver spoon when you were born. No shame in that. It’s not the money. It’s what it does to you.”
She sniffed. “What about us?”
He moved his hand so he could touch her under her chin and lift her face to his. “Let’s just go on being partners, okay? Let’s get this wedding over with, get our prizewinning story. No one said we had to make a decision today, right?”
This must all seem ludicrous to you,” she said. “I know you didn’t have anything growing up.”
“I had enough.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “It’s all gonna work out for the best,” he whispered. “But no matter what, we had a time, right? One hell of a time.”
She shuddered lightly, and not from his warm breath on her ear. It was over. He knew it. She knew it All the magic had been spent, and now the world was black-and-white again. “Yes,” she said. “It was the best time I ever had”.
He stepped away, and she felt a great rift grow between them. If only…
“We’d better get dressed,” he said. “You promised Babs about dinner.”
She nodded and took her things into the bathroom. She had the feeling she’d be a while; it was hard to put on makeup when you were crying.
MITCH WAS GLAD they’d made plans with the Brewsters. It would give him a chance to observe the dynamics of the family from his new perspective. He’d pretty much figured that he’d better butt out of her life, but maybe there was still a shot. It was too late for him to be born rich. Too late on the good breeding altogether.
As he sat down next to Bentley at the restaurant, he wondered what Babs and Danny would say if they knew who he really was. That he was a mutt who’d never known his father. Whose mother was a cardcarrying alcoholic. Who’d never gone to college but had finagled his way into a job at the Times.
He was the kind of person they donated money to. Less fortunate. That was an understatement.
He looked at his menu, vaguely listening to Babs as she went on about the wedding arrangements. If he’d been on his own, he would never have come here. There were way too many items sold at inflated prices. He didn’t mind fast food. None of his friends minded fast food. But for the life of him, he couldn’t picture Babs and Danny ordering pizza.
Normally, rich people didn’t bother him. Actually, he’d always thought if he ever did marry, he’d go looking for a rich woman. Why not? He had a healthy regard for money, and he had no doubts that having some made life a hell of a lot easier.
Now that he was married, for the moment, to Bentley, he wasn’t so sure. He’d never understood that having money was a culture, that it changed very fundamental things about a person. It was like a religion, with rituals and cabals the poor slobs of the world couldn’t fathom.
Of course Bentley couldn’t walk away. It had been selfish of him to even suggest it. He’d been fishing, that’s all. Trying a last-ditch effort to see if there was any way they could work things out between them. Not that he wanted to get married or anything, but the thought wasn’t as foreign today as it had been yesterday.
Seeing Bentley’s tears when he mentioned leaving it all behind confirmed everything. There was no chance. Not for him. She needed her life-style, and she needed a man that would be an asset. Not an albatross.
It didn’t matter that he thought she was the kind of woman he could spend a lifetime with. When it came down to brass tacks, it was all very simple. Because he loved her, he had to leave her be. She deserved first-rate goods, not a sad mongrel like him.
“Carter?”
He snapped out of his reverie with the feeling that Bentley had been trying to get his attention for a while. “Yeah?”
She nodded at the waiter standing by the table. He hadn’t even noticed. “I’ll have what she’s having,” Mitch said, pointing his thumb at Bentley.
“Steamed vegetables?”
He made a face. “Whoa. No way.” He looked at her. “I will never understand women.” Glancing quickly at the menu, he ordered a steak, potatoes and a beer.
“It’s no wonder we live so much longer than men,” she said. “Steak is full of—”
“Save it,” he said. “I know all about cholesterol and fat grams and the food pyramid. But if God didn’t want us to eat meat, he wouldn’t have invented serrated knives.”
“That’s right,” Dan said. “See that, Babs? Carter knows what he’s talking about.”
“Carter will probably have a co
ronary bypass,” Babs said. “If he keeps eating like that, he won’t live long enough to see his son graduate from Harvard.”
Danny winked at Mitch. “They don’t get it, do they? They don’t understand that we have different needs.”
Mitch glanced at Bentley and saw her lips press tightly together. “You want some wine?”
She shook her head. “No. Thank you.”
“Speaking of wine,” Babs said, as if the conversation existed only as a lead-in to her favorite topic, “the champagne arrived, but the liquor for the open bars didn’t. Now they’re saying the roads are washed out between the liquor store and the hotel. I’ve talked to the general manager, and he can’t help. He needs his supplies for the hotel. I say that with the money I’m spending for this week, he should close the bar right now and give me every last drop.”
“No!” Mitch said.
“No!” Bentley echoed.
Babs’s brows lifted. “Is there something I should know? Are you two budding alcoholics?”
Bentley shook her head. “I just like knowing it’s there, Mother. Like a safety net under the tightrope.”
“Tightrope? What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been quiet all evening. Have you two had a fight?”
“Nope,” Mitch said, pitching in with a smile. “She’s just a little tired. That story we’ve been working on. It’s been tough.”
“This is no time for work. For heaven’s sake, you can play at that job when you get home. This is Stephanie’s weekend, or have you forgotten?”
“No, Mother. I haven’t forgotten. You’re right. I have been spending too much time playing at my job. What can I do to help?”
Babs smiled. It was a smug victory, and Mitch didn’t like it.
“You can put all that wonderful energy of yours into finding a way to get your sister here. She’s still in Honolulu, and if she doesn’t get here soon, I’m going to have my own coronary.”
“I’ll get on it first thing in the morning,” Bentley said. She sounded pleasant, purposeful, almost cheerful.
