“If I have to wait that long, I guess I will. It may take that long to bring Father around anyway.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Wyatt locked arms with Regan and they returned to the house. Wyatt’s mood was greatly improved. Keeli had been right about Regan; she really wanted this opportunity so she would look out for him.
“Dinner is on the table. Where have you two been?” his mother was herding the children into the dining room, motioning everyone else to follow. “Wyatt, dinner,” she called in the direction of the closed study door. “Ivy, go get your father while the food is hot.”
“I’ll go,” Regan volunteered and Wyatt headed for the seat furthest from his father’s, waiting for the inevitable fireworks to begin.
A perfectly sliced slab of beef fresh off the grill sat on the table along with horseradish sauce, a large colorful salad, fresh corn, tomatoes and a steamy loaf of sour dough bread. It might be family barbeque but the china was Royal Crown Derby, the crystal was Waterford and the silver was polished to a high shine. The platters surrounded a professionally designed floral centerpiece that was replaced semi-weekly by the premier Lake Forest florist, and the linens were fresh pressed by a local laundry service.
The table easily accommodated the family of nine. The room was large enough to entertain twenty or more. Tonight, Wyatt wished for more leaves in the table since the distance between him and his father was clearly not big enough.
“I will not sit at the same table with Ivy,” his father pouted. “He is not welcome in my home.”
“Well, he is welcome in mine, Wyatt, so sit down and serve the roast please.” Wyatt Senior did as he was bid by his wife, but not before sending her and his eldest son each an angry scowl.
“What the hell is going on with you two? Is this about the girl? Ivy, your father is right. The girl is probably overwhelmed by your money and status. They always are. You know what to expect from those types.”
“Those types? Seriously, Mother?” Wyatt’s response dripped with sarcasm. “What the hell is wrong with you people?”
“How dare you speak to us like that Ivy? Apologize this instant.”
“Don’t worry dear, Ivy no longer has money and status.”
“What?” A chorus of voices rang around the table, eyes bouncing between the two men trying to understand what was going on.
“Oh yes, sweetheart. Your darling boy just quit Lyons Howe to pursue his dreams. Forget our dreams,” his arm swept the room indicating that he spoke for the whole family, “he only cares about his own selfish desires.”
Wyatt’s mother looked like she was about to faint, gripping the edge of the table with her manicured fingers. She looked as if someone just died.
“Why are you doing this to me, Ivy. Don’t you love us? Don’t you love your father? We built all of this for you.”
At this point, the conversation became a free-for-all. Wyatt’s brother instantly sided with his parents. He could see additional unwanted work and responsibility coming his way if Wyatt left the firm. Regan and Missy were siding with Wyatt though. The children just wanted the attention of the adults while Missy’s husband stayed safely quiet. The lovely dinner sat untouched as sides were drawn for the protracted battle.
After thirty minutes of raised voices, no one was listening to anyone else. Wyatt’s mother began to cry softly but conspicuously. “You are destroying your father, Ivy. And me. You are destroying this family. Do you understand?”
“Oh please. I am so done with this conversation. I just want to start a software company for god’s sake. I am a grown man who wants to do something on my own. The business is in Regan’s very capable hands. Nothing is destroyed. No one is destroyed.”
“I wanted you to follow in your father’s footsteps. I have always wanted that for you. You are my first-born. It is your responsibility to take care of your brother and sisters. And marry. And give me grandchildren. How do you know Sloane will still have you if you run some little software company?”
“Mother. I do not want Sloane,” Wyatt spoke to his mother as if speaking to a child, slowly clipping each word. “I want Keeli. I may be falling in love with Keeli. Do you understand? This is a woman who will want me even if I have nothing.”
“Well, Son,” his father piped up. “You have nothing as of right now. No job. No family support. And for the record, that girl is not welcome in this house. So, looks like you don’t have her either. I hope you are proud of yourself. You have made a complete mess of your life and broken our hearts. You are no longer welcome at Lyons Howe, but by God you will honor your mother’s wishes and marry an acceptable girl.”
“Or what?” Wyatt’s anger was rising uncontrollably as Missy laid her cool fingers on his arm to hold him back. He had risen from his chair, staring down the table at his father with venom shooting from his eyes.
“I will grudgingly allow you to pursue your software dreams, Ivy. Lyons Howe will invest in your company and purchase your products when they become available, but not without Sloane. This is a package deal, Son. Sloane comes with the investment. She is good for your future and you will need all the help you can get.”
Wyatt leaped back, knocking the chair over in his haste to get away from his family. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Mother,” he mocked, placing a dry kiss on her cheek before striding to the door without a backward glance. The door slammed behind him.
What the hell just happened? What a mess. They don’t even know Keeli, have not met her. Why are they so set against her? And why are they so set on Sloane? I am the one who has to live with her, not them.
Reliving the evening now, Wyatt took the turns too fast, furious with the night’s events. This was marital blackmail. Yet even now he realized he was considering sacrificing his fledgling relationship with Keeli for his family’s support of his professional goals. He hated himself for it. Yes, it was still early days with Keeli, but what did it say about his principles if he agreed to marry Sloane?
I am a grown man, damn it, and whom I love should be my choice.
His father was playing hardball with his dream and Wyatt knew who would win. After all, he had learned all his negotiating skills from his father. He wanted to understand what was driving this demand before he agreed to it, but he knew his father did not make demands lightly. Wyatt felt his relationship with Keeli slipping through his fingers.
After talking to Missy, Wyatt knew she was right. They all just needed to sleep on it. Wyatt would find a way for his parents to meet Keeli. They would come to care for her and appreciate her, just as he did, and then his father would forget his stupid ultimatum.
Of course he would. Wouldn’t he?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
By Thursday, Keeli could no longer fool herself. Wyatt was not just busy; he was avoiding her. He had returned none of her texts since his terse reply on Sunday and she had finally stopped writing. She did not want to be a clingy pest who couldn’t take a hint. She had shed a few tears; okay, a lot of tears. Theo and Dylan had been great listeners and wonderful at making up excuses for the silent phone.
“Didn’t you say his dad was sick? Perhaps they had a health emergency.”
“He works so hard Keeli, and travels a bunch. I bet he went out of town without taking your number,“ Theo offered. “Or his phone died,” Dylan added.
“His phone fell in the toilet and he doesn’t have your number now.” Theo got her to smile briefly with that one.
They had plied her with yummy food from the restaurant and the caterers, lots of wine and had even given up the bathroom for a full hour so she could soak uninterrupted. None of it helped.
“I was a fool, wasn’t I?” she kept asking anyone who would listen. “I knew he was a player. I knew he was with a different girl every week. I should have realized he would throw me over too, right?”
The upstairs neighbors, Lynn and Mark, had come down to keep her company three evenings in a row, but finally even they agreed with her assessment and told her to move o
n. Clarice seemed as confused as Keeli. Disagreeing with her about giving up, Clarice insisted that something was wrong, saying she knew he felt something special. Neither answer made her feel better.
The one good thing about the silence was that it was paying off in her work. She was creating like a lunatic, being incredibly productive. No new designs were percolating in her brain, but she was quick to complete her existing designs with new stones that she had purchased using the money from the Milwaukee sales. She had a huge inventory ready for the Port Clinton festival in August and half of what she would need later in the year for consigning with the Evanston stores.
She and Missy were still in touch and by unspoken agreement, neither mentioned Wyatt. Missy invited her to meet for lunch again, but Keeli made up an excuse. She could not go out without showing her blotchy face and red eyes. She really had to stop crying herself to sleep.
Keeli worked through the quiet weekend, hiding in the basement with her tools, waitressing for a large, backyard bar mitzvah Saturday night. She took a break Sunday long enough to share pizza with Lynn and Mark, who did their best to make her laugh a bit, but otherwise she stayed heads down over her worktable.
She actually enjoyed the waitressing gig. It was a beautiful summer night and the kids were cute. The party ended at a reasonable hour and she made decent money. Of course, she did tear up a few times. Tonight she was supposed to be at Ravinia. Right now, she should be with Wyatt, listening to music under the stars. Keeli cried herself to sleep again.
By Monday, Keeli gave herself a stern talking to, deciding she was over Wyatt. She had moped for a full week after only dating the man a month or two. Enough was enough. It had been a fun interlude. She learned a lot about herself, got to go places she would otherwise never have seen. She learned about hockey and had a tentative new friendship.
And, for a few wonderful weeks, she had felt sexy and desirable. Now she would chalk it up to experience and move forward.
Two weeks later, Keeli decided to use the bar mitzvah waitressing money to get a really good haircut. New hairdo equaled new outlook. At least she hoped so. It had been almost a month since she last saw Wyatt. There had been no word, but she had bonded with Missy. At least now she knew that he was not tending to his ailing father or out of town. He was just not interested. She scheduled an appointment at a posh salon recommended by Missy and made plans to meet her after for lunch.
Although she couldn’t afford it, and thought more than once about cancelling, here Keeli was, taking the small elevator from ground level to the glass enclosed salon and girding herself to lose her signature red curls. She was instantly overwhelmed by the bustle of activity, the posters of gorgeous models and the elegance of the clientele. She knew she looked out of place - gauche and frankly, poor. She pulled her shoulders back, lifted her chin and determined to brave this strange, chic world.
Her appointment was with someone named Aaron. She sat in his chair with trepidation, sipping the plastic cup of wine handed to her by his assistant and fidgeting with the slippery smock covering her from neck to knees.
“So, my dear, what do you have in mind?” A tall, lanky fair-haired man came to stand behind her chair. He was handsome, clean cut and in his late 30’s. He had kind eyes and an over-the-top way of speaking that made Keeli trust him immediately.
“I have no idea, something less wild maybe? A bit more professional?”
“Really, you want to tame this lusciousness?” He was wonderfully melodramatic. “You know a man could get lost in these curls. Well,” he added with a giggle, “a straight man.”
He ran his hands through her hair, twisting the curls around his index finger, testing their weight, combing her hair this way and that. “We could do a treatment to make it straight, of course,” Aaron finally offered. “But, sweetie, I think you will miss these curls. So how ‘bout we shape it up? We’ll get rid of some of the fullness and then let your natural curl do the rest. I want to emphasize your eyes more and let the shape of your face come through, too.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Ooh,” he shrieked like a child on Christmas morning, drawing attention of those around him, “I love when I have free reign. You just leave this to me.“
Keeli was shuttled to the shampoo station, lathered, rinsed, lathered again and then left with a “mask” on her hair.
Who knew such a thing existed?
They offered a second glass of wine but since it was it just 11:00, Keeli declined, fearing she would be too drunk to get through lunch. A statuesque woman dressed all in black delivered a bottle of water instead.
When Keeli was sure her neck would break from laying back over the basin, another black clad woman with blue-streaked blonde hair rinsed her hair and escorted her back to Aaron’s chair near the front windows. Aaron combed out her hair, turned the chair so that she was unable to watch him in the mirror and began to snip, chatting the whole time. Before she realized it, she was sharing more about herself than usual. She had described moving to Chicago, talked all about her jewelry designs and the difficulties of finding buyers. She had even confessed a bit about her broken heart.
What was it about stylists? She always told them too much.
“My clients would probably love your jewelry if we could just find a way to put you together,” Aaron was pondering this dilemma while he blew her hair dry, then feathered the bottom with a special scissors.
“Do you have a catalog or pictures or a web site? Maybe I could get my next client to host a trunk show. Can you stick around and meet her?”
“That would be fantastic. And my hair will look great for her too.” Keeli raised an eyebrow in question, frustrated not to be able to see what Aaron had been doing.
“Okay, Miss Nosey, you can see it in two minutes.” He was smearing some kind of gel into her hair and fussing with a few select curls. “Voila!”
Keeli was speechless when he spun the chair around, running her hands along the smooth tresses, poking at a wave here and a curl there in awe.
“You are a total genius.” She was gushing with pleasure and Aaron’s face spread into a satisfied grin.
“I guess you like it?”
“I love it. But will I be able to recreate it?”
“It’s not hard, let me show you.” Aaron made it all seem so easy and he snapped a picture of her with her new smooth, beach-waves. The look was soft and easy, less messy than her natural curls, full but not too big for her face. Her eyes looked enormous now and her hair was silky and shiny. She felt beautiful.
“I couldn’t be happier, really.” Keeli praised the stylist again while they schedule a follow on appointment for seven weeks later.
“Sure you could. You could be happier with fabulous hair and a trunk show. And here come’s my next client now, so be on your toes, Keeli.”
A woman of indiscriminate age walked toward them. Her movements were of a young woman, her face of someone over 50 but maybe only by a few years. She had that recognizable look of wealth and confidence. Her handbag was easily worth thousands. She was wearing a simple pear-shaped diamond on the second finger of her left hand that Keeli estimated at an eye-popping eight or nine carats. Keeli loved the ring. Despite the obvious wealth, the woman was wearing jeans and little black leather flats and seemed very approachable.
Aaron introduced his client, Linda Stuart, explaining that he knew her whole family. Her two daughters and her two sisters were included in his clientele. They chatted like old friends and it took him only a moment to mention that Keeli was an up and coming jewelry designer. In one more minute, he had planted the idea of a trunk show. As he had anticipated, she jumped on the idea and the women exchanged emails to set up a date.
Keeli floated from the salon as if she was on top of the world, feeling pretty and poised to break into a new customer market. Everything felt new, fresh, and full of possibilities. The sun was shining on this early August day and for the first time since returning from Milwaukee, Keeli believed that her
life was good, that she would be happy again. She had just enough time to buy a small thank you gift for Missy before meeting her for lunch. After all, it was she who suggested she call the salon and get a new look. That had led to meeting Linda and new possibilities. What a great day!
She scanned the street for a shop that she could afford. There were not many. The low-price point merchandise at Prada, Hermes and Barney’s was still out of her reach. Heading for Bloomingdales around the corner, Keeli was horrified to see Wyatt ten paces away, arm in arm with Sloane. It was too late to duck back inside somewhere so Keeli steeled herself for the meeting.
At least my hair looks fantastic.
“Wyatt, hi. And it’s Sloane, right?” Keeli was cool and poised, extending her hand to shake Sloane’s. “Lovely to see you again.” Her voice betrayed none of her panic.
“Oh, it’s the clumsy little waitress, Wyatt,” Sloane rudely ignored the extended hand and addressed herself to Wyatt, not Keeli.
“Keeli Larsen, Sloane Huyler. I am not sure you were ever introduced.” Wyatt made the awkward introductions looking very uncomfortable, as if he wished he were anywhere but here. “Keeli is a jewelry designer, Sloane. She just waitresses to help her friend, who is a caterer.”
Keeli appreciated Wyatt’s effort to increase her standing with the chilly brunette, recognizing instantly that it made no difference. As if to confirm her suspicion, Sloane responded, “Well, that explains why you were so clumsy. You are not doing your friend’s business much good if you spill his creations.”
I can’t believe I thought she was being so nice the night the benefit. She is obviously a cold bitch. I hope she makes him miserable.
“Yes, well, then I guess it is a good thing it’s not my full-time job,” Keeli responded with a tight smile. “Nice to meet you, good to see you Wyatt.” Before she could lose it completely, Keeli lifted her chin, straightened her spine and walked away at a brisk pace.
Bedazzled (The Beguiling Bachelors Book 1) Page 25
