What Happens in Charleston...

by Rachel Bailey

  All the air left his lungs as the weight of her loss hit him squarely in the chest. He reached across the table and grasped her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  She squeezed his fingers. “It was an accidental pregnancy, but as soon as I knew, I loved that baby with everything inside me.”

  Susannah pushed her cup to the side of the metal picnic table. She hadn’t spoken about that dear baby since he’d died. The whole period in her life wasn’t something she let herself dwell on. Usually. But Matthew was so easy to talk to, and he needed to hear this, to understand.

  “I got pregnant because I was angry at my grandparents.”

  His head tilted to the side. “Their tug-of-war for you?”

  “Yes, but it was more than that. Looking back, I was such a good kid. But it was never enough for them. There were constant lectures about being ‘a lady,’ and expectations I would perform better next time and be the proper social accessory. I was easy prey for a teenage boy.” Her hands circled her throat. “I met him at one of my grandparents’ parties and in my one act of teenage rebellion I went with him out to the secluded gardens and, inevitably, became pregnant.”

  With understanding in his eyes, he shook his head. “It might have been only one rebellion, but it was a doozy.”

  “We told our parents and though no one was thrilled, his parents were downright manipulative. They demanded I sign a contract to place the baby for adoption as soon as it was born so nothing would interfere with the glorious future they had planned for their son.”

  She clearly remembered the feeling of being overwhelmed by a rich family who stuck together. One who thought they could get whatever they wanted by pushing hard enough. Matthew’s family seemed nice, but her experience of families with inherited wealth had been frightening—they thought and operated differently than other people. Flynn would experience that as an insider—the Kincaids would stick by him through thick and thin—but she would never get involved with a family like that. It had been the reason she’d been reluctant at first to get involved with Grace’s surrogacy proposal. But seeing the strength of Grace’s need, and her own mother’s financial desperation, had convinced her it was the right thing to do. Still, she’d taken the contract Grace had given her to a lawyer before signing it to make sure she was fully protected in case things went pear-shaped.

  To the wealthy, outsiders were always expendable to some degree. Just like her mother had been with her father’s family.

  She glanced at Matthew and saw the disapproval of how she’d been treated in his narrowed eyes. Despite being part of one of those families, he was a good man, but the powerful bonds with his family were evident in everything he did. As was how accustomed he was to getting what he wanted through money and influence.

  “That was unforgivable of them,” he said.

  Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, both from what had happened back then, and for Matthew’s support now. “My mother thought so, as well. She wasn’t happy that I was pregnant so young, but she was thrilled about having a grandchild. I refused to sign that contact. I was keeping him, no matter what.”

  “What happened?” he asked, voice deep with concern.

  “He was born too early. They said that sometimes happens when the mother is so young—there was no other explanation, no other reason. Good news for being able to carry Flynn years later, but it didn’t help when I was a teenager and wanted answers.” Her eyes drifted closed, as if to protect her against the pain. Yet that merely provided a blank slate for the memories. “The doctors worked hard to help him, and he made it to three weeks old, but his little lungs and organs simply weren’t developed enough to handle this life. We never even brought him home from the hospital.”

  “Oh, Susannah, I’m sorry.” He stood and pulled her out of her seat and into his arms. “What was his name?”

  “William,” she said against his chest. “After my dad.”

  He stroked a hand over her hair. “A good name.”

  Despite wanting to stay in his arms and soak up the support he offered, she pulled back and drew him down to the seat beside her. It was important he hear this.

  “Matthew, I told you this story to show you the difference. I was a mess of grief when I lost William. And I still think about how my life would be if he’d lived. But Flynn was always meant to be yours. I won’t deny that it was a wrench to give him up, but nothing like losing William.”

  He nodded and cupped her cheek. “Because you’d let yourself love William.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I reminded myself all the time that Flynn belonged to you.”

  A ball of emotion lodged in his throat. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said thank you for him. I know we said some things at the hospital about how grateful we were, but I never sat down like this, looked you in the eye and said it.” He reached for her hands and clasped them tightly between his. “Thank you, Susannah Parrish. You did a beautiful thing in giving us our baby.”

  The sincerity in his bottomless green eyes touched a secret place inside her. “One thing I learned from losing William is that you can’t put a price on the gift of life. It’s infinitely precious. And I was glad, deep in my soul, to be able to give you and Grace that gift.”

  “I believe that of you.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “What about the future? You’ve had two babies, but you didn’t get to keep either of them. Will you have another?”

  “I’d love to raise a baby. Or two or three.” A vision rose of a little girl who matched Flynn, with Matthew’s coloring and a dimple in her chin. She wore a purple cotton dress with a big bow at the front and held out her chubby arms. The picture was so clear she ached to draw the girl close. Matthew’s voice dragged her from the dreamlike trance.

  “You’ll be a fabulous mother.”

  Horrified by the direction of her thoughts, she looked away. This was a temporary situation. She was going back to Georgia in a few days. If she let herself become enamored by fantasies, she’d wind up making bad decisions.

  “Did you see they sell the gelato by tub, as well?” she said brightly, changing the direction of the conversation without any subtlety. “We could take some home to Flynn. What’s his favorite?”

  “Strawberry.” Matthew rose from his seat, either not noticing or choosing not to comment on the abrupt change of subject. “But I’ll get a tub of pink grapefruit as well for us.” He dropped his voice. “I think it will taste even better tonight in bed.”

  Nine

  Walking through the entranceway of the Barclays’ mansion on Matthew’s tuxedo-clad arm transported Susannah back ten years. The scene was awash with soft light and everything sparkled as these events always did, from the cocktail dresses of the female guests, to the gleaming marble and cut-glass chandeliers.

  She’d attended similar events as a teenager with her grandparents, where they’d dress her up and parade her around. Their son—her father—was gone, and their two daughters had moved interstate, so her grandparents had relished the chance for a substitute child to use as a social accessory. The trip on the way had been full of instructions.

  Don’t scratch your nose.

  Don’t touch your hair and ruin the hairdresser’s work.

  Do smile (but only in the aloof, sophisticated style they’d made her practice).

  Do seem interested in everything people tell you, but never laugh too hard or shriek. Not that she remembered shrieking; she’d been a quiet girl, but her grandparents left nothing to chance. She was there representing them, and her behavior was of vital importance.

  Going home to her mother again where she could be herself had always been a relief. She could even scratch her nose if she felt the need.

  She’d sometimes wondered whether her grandparents knew anything about her at all, or only saw a dress-up doll they could mold and shape to the image they wanted.

  A shiver passed across her skin as she thought about meeting them here tonight, but they had a holiday pla
ce in Florida they used in January and February. And their friends hadn’t seen her since she was a teenager, so hopefully none would recognize her as an adult.

  “Are you okay?” Matthew asked close to her ear. “You seem a little strained.”

  She smiled up at him. “I’m good.” Tonight was important to him; he needed her to help. As fate would have it, she was here again, being someone else’s accessory, but this time she’d chosen the role. She could use all the skills her grandparents had taught her, ones that had then been refined during her work in public relations, for Matthew’s benefit.

  “What’s your plan?” she asked him.

  He cast a glance around the room, looking as reluctant to be here as she was. “Find my target, sell him on TKG and get out.”

  She chuckled. “How about a more subtle approach?”

  “What do you suggest?” he asked, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter.

  “We mingle, work the room a bit, perhaps laying groundwork for future new business, then when an opportunity that feels natural arises with the client you’re targeting, you chat with him and build a relationship.”

  “So less brash than my usual method?” His eyebrow arched at an amused angle.

  “With many businesspeople, your forthright approach would be pitch-perfect. But the people here will respond better to good manners and subtlety.”

  “Good point.” His arm moved out from under her hand and slid around her waist. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  An older woman with a heavy necklace Susannah knew was made of real diamonds and sapphires finished talking to the people who’d arrived before them and made her way over.

  “Good evening, I’m Lydia Barclay, your hostess.”

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Matthew said. “I’m Matthew Kincaid, and this is Susannah Parrish.”

  “Kincaid?” Her eyes narrowed as her gaze raked him up and down. “You must be Elizabeth’s son. We’re on the board of the Arts Trust together.”

  “She speaks highly of you,” Matthew said smoothly and flashed his devastating smile.

  Mrs. Barclay fluttered her eyelashes, apparently charmed. “Let me introduce you to my dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. Raleigh.”

  Over the next twenty minutes, they slowly mingled with other guests and Susannah relaxed into her role. She remembered an occasional person from parties she’d been to years ago, but she was relieved that no one recognized her as an adult, avoiding any messy questions about her family. Perhaps they’d never looked at her properly when she was a teenager—just seen that her grandparents had a “well behaved” girl with them.

  The irony almost made her laugh. She’d been prized as much then for slipping into someone else’s role as she was now—being the replacement for Grace in Matthew’s house. But now wasn’t the time for reflection. She had a job to do. She pushed the thoughts aside and smiled, taking the hand of the next wealthy socialite who was being introduced to her.

  Matt shook the hand of the man before him, his other hand firmly at Susannah’s waist. Since Grace’s death, he’d taken his mother anywhere he needed a plus one, so this was strange in some ways. But mainly it felt right. Susannah was a natural—conversing with everyone she met, putting them at ease, finding common ground. He was pretty much following in her wake. She must be great in her role as public-relations manager at the bank she worked for—maybe he should mention her to Laurel, in case his sister was looking for new staff for her PR team at TKG.

  And—he smiled inside—if she took a job in Charleston, there would be no need for her to leave his bed. He pulled her a little closer to his side, immeasurably pleased by the idea.

  As the couple they’d been talking to moved away, Matt leaned down to speak near Susannah’s ear, allowing his lips to brush her lobe. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

  She shivered and turned her face up to him, her clear blue eyes captivating. “You’re welcome.”

  “Though I’m not sure if I should be thanking you or not for wearing that dress. It’s been driving me crazy.” He had plans for that dress later. Of peeling her out of it and spending hours exploring the skin it currently covered.

  “You chose it,” she said sweetly.

  Then he saw Larrimore. Dead ahead but walking toward him. He was talking to another man and hadn’t seen them yet and by moving a few inches to the right, Matt was able to put himself in their walking path without being too obvious. Subtlety. He was going to play this Susannah’s way since he hadn’t had any luck with Larrimore so far. Just as the men walked past Susannah’s shoulder, he casually looked up and caught the eye of his quarry. The friend walked on, but Larrimore stopped and nodded.

  “Mr. Larrimore, good to see you again,” he said, extending a hand. “May I introduce you to Susannah Parrish?”

  As he spoke the words, Susannah stiffened and leaned back into his hand at her waist, as if her instincts were telling her to get away. The other man’s face turned a deep red and he made no move to take Matt’s offered hand. Matt dropped it, looking from one to the other, trying to understand the dynamics that had sprung up.

  “Parrish?” Larrimore said from between his teeth.

  Susannah seemed to be stirred into action by the word—she drew a deep breath and lifted her chin. Then she said one word.

  “Grandfather.”

  Matt’s mind reeled. Arnold Larrimore was Susannah’s grandfather?

  The other man grabbed Matt’s arm and steered him into a semiprivate alcove. “New plan, Kincaid.”

  “I’m listening,” he said warily, watching Susannah over Larrimore’s shoulder. Her face was pale, but she was following them, so he stayed put for the moment.

  “That girl broke her grandmother’s heart,” he said irritably, his eyes reminding Matt of a boxer’s in the ring. “You get her to reconcile with my wife and The Kincaid Group gets all Larrimore Industries’ business.”

  Susannah had paused behind her grandfather—close enough to hear, but not to declare her presence. Her eyes were huge in her porcelain face. He remembered her telling him about her grandparents’ treatment of her mother, of their underhanded appeals for her to live with them, and of their cruel refusal to help when she needed money for her mother. Her trembling hand lifted to circle her throat, her thoughts plain on her face. She was wondering if he was going to sell her out for the sake of his business.

  He glanced back to Larrimore, his heart hardening. “No deal, Larrimore. If your wife—or you—want a relationship with Susannah, you’ll have to ask her yourself. But a little friendly advice—she’ll probably be more receptive if you ask her directly instead of trying to manipulate her from behind the scenes.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he reached for Susannah’s hand and headed for the door. To hell with subtlety.

  Stunned, Susannah allowed herself to be led away. She hadn’t expected Matthew to offer her on a platter, but he desperately needed new business for his company. And if he was willing to go out of his way to attend this event tonight just to see her grandfather, then Larrimore Industries would have been a major client for TKG. Under the circumstances, she’d at least expected him to negotiate something more palatable—to look for a win-win.

  Yet, here they were, outside the Barclays’ mansion, climbing into one of the courtesy cars that would take them to the airstrip where the TKG jet was waiting.

  As they settled in the backseat, she laid a hand on Matthew’s tense jaw. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me,” he said, pulling her closer and tucking her under his arm. “I should have said more to him. Done more.”

  “What you said was perfect.” Utterly perfect. He’d stood up to her grandfather for her—defended her in a way she couldn’t remember ever being defended before. Her heart glowed.

  “You weren’t exaggerating about the old man. To talk about you as if you weren’t there, to attempt to trade you like a commodity…” He shook his head, apparently unable to finish the sentence.

>   She knew she should feel as affronted about her grandfather’s behavior as Matthew was. But she didn’t. She’d expected no more from him.

  Matthew’s reaction however…that had been amazing.

  Could she give him something of equal value back? If he was prepared to lose the account that he needed for the family business for her, could she put up with visiting her grandparents a couple of times to let him get the deal back? Her body tensed in dissent, but she knew what she had to do. For Matthew.

  She pulled away to face him in the dim interior. “I want you to call him and tell him you’ll take the deal.”

  His eyes spat fire. “Like hell I will.”

  “You need the account,” she pointed out.

  “Susannah, after he ignored your pleas for money when you and your mother needed him, I wouldn’t touch that man’s account with a barge pole. But I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” The car slowed as they reached the airstrip. “We have the night off, my mother is with Flynn and we have the company jet.” He stepped out of the car then offered her his hand.

  “What do you have in mind?” she asked when they were standing on the tarmac.

  The breeze blew her hair around her face and he smoothed it back. “How about I surprise you? Once the pilot gets clearance on a new flight plan, we can go.”

  She grinned, ready for anything if it involved this man. “Sounds great.”

  When the jet landed, Susannah had lost track of time. She’d been too absorbed in Matthew and the stories he’d been telling about growing up as one of five children. Seemed the Kincaid kids had been a bit of a handful, but Elizabeth had been more than up to the job.

  She peeked out the window; it was hard to see much in the late-night darkness, but they were definitely outside the city area. “Where are we?”

  “Willis Hall, not far from Hartsville. My father left it to me.”