He reached out for her but didn’t stop her as she walked past. His fingers brushed across her hair, but she didn’t stop. She kept walking, toward Ned, toward her future of hard work and professional success.
And even though she’d done the right thing, she felt like crying when she sat down.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BECK PARKED IN his parents’ driveway, still smarting about the run-in with Poppy last night. He had not liked seeing her with that Ned fellow. Not one bit. And he’d liked Jamie’s busybody behavior in setting the whole thing up even less.
He snatched the gift for the engagement party off his passenger seat. The pretty paper and oversize bow annoyed him. All clean and sparkly and fresh. The whole engagement party annoyed him.
He let himself into the house without knocking. The entry blazed with light from the overhead chandelier, wall sconces and a small table lamp. They all reflected back out of the side mirror and the silver wallpaper. It was a bit like being inside a disco ball. An elegant disco ball, but a disco ball.
But at least there weren’t flower petals or other fiddly floaty things festooned everywhere. In fact, it looked like many other parties his parents had hosted back in the day.
The sounds of voices and music led him to the back patio where a crowd of well-wishers had gathered. He placed his gift on the table set aside for them and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
As usual, his mother had spared no expense. Circular tables were scattered throughout the backyard and surrounded the turquoise pool. Each was laid out identically in white and gold. White tablecloths that snapped in the breeze, white plates with wide gold rims, white napkins with his parents’ monograms in gold and tall crystal vases that sat well above the seated eye line and housed bouquets of a white flower that Beck didn’t recognize. The whole effect was cool and elegant.
Just like his mother, who swanned toward him wearing a fitted white dress with long sleeves. Chunky gold jewelry glittered at her ears and around her wrist.
“Beck. You made it.” She leaned in for a hug and kiss, surrounding him with a cloud of perfume.
“Of course I made it.” He tried not to sound sullen, but he felt pretty sullen.
“Ignore him, Aunt Victoria,” Jamie said, coming from out of nowhere like a snake making a strike. He kissed Victoria on the cheek. “He’s annoyed Poppy won’t give him the time of day. You look wonderful, as always.”
“Oh, Jamie.” His mother’s hand fluttered as she straightened his collar, and then she turned to welcome Emmy with an equally warm embrace. “And Emmy. I’m so pleased you were able to come down for the party.” She wrapped an arm around each of them and smiled at Beck. “Isn’t it wonderful they’re here, Beck?”
“Fantastic.” They either didn’t notice or chose to ignore his gritted teeth. He glared at his cousin and clutched his champagne glass more tightly.
After his mother finished fussing over them, asking how their trip down had been, how Emmy was doing and hoping they’d be able to come over for dinner before they had to return to Naramata, she turned her attention to Jamie’s other comment.
Beck realized a moment too late that he should have taken advantage of his mother’s distraction and excused himself from the group. He shook his head. What was wrong with him? He used to be so skilled at avoiding family awkwardness before.
“Now, what’s this about Poppy?” Victoria clasped her hands together and looked eagerly from Beck to Jamie.
Jamie raised an eyebrow at Beck as if to say, Are you going to tell her or should I?
Beck growled deep in his throat. “It’s nothing. Jamie’s idea of a joke.”
Beck had already explained to Jamie that there was nothing to talk about. She’d made it very clear she wanted nothing more to do with him. She hadn’t spared him another glance. Not even when he made a big production of walking past her table when he left. Beck didn’t know why he cared. But he did.
She should have at least looked at him.
He frowned as he’d been frowning all day whenever she’d popped into his head, which had been a lot. The way the edges of her mouth had tilted down as she told him she didn’t want to see him again. Because although she might not have said those words exactly, he knew what she’d meant. Beck might not be a veteran of breakups, preferring to never let relationships get to the point where a breakup was necessary, but he could tell when one had happened to him. And he didn’t care for it. Not one bit.
“Your son,” Jamie said to Beck’s mother, “is too stubborn to admit he has feelings.”
Victoria sent Beck a little sideways glance. Beck sensed the questioning pressure behind the look. She wanted to hear everything. His guard came up automatically.
He loosened his hold on the champagne flute before he accidentally snapped the delicate stem, glad when he was able to pawn the glass off on a passing waiter. But his family’s attention remained on him, probing and prying. He shoved his hands into his suit pockets. No one would be able to see the fisting motion beneath the material.
“Beck?”
But Beck was looking at the pleased smile Jamie couldn’t quite prevent from tugging at the corners of his lips. Golden Boy, his ass.
He wondered if Jamie had seen Poppy today. Had she said anything about their little discussion last night? Said anything about him? Did she really hate him or was it a show? He hated that he wanted the answers. It was terrible that he hoped Poppy had been putting on an act for his benefit.
His mother laid a hand on his arm, distracting him from Jamie’s smug expression. “Beck?”
“I’m fine.” Her lack of demand was worse than if she’d tried to dive into his personal life like it was an ocean and she was on fire. “Don’t listen to your nephew. He’s trying to cause trouble over nothing. Nothing.” He repeated that last word for Jamie’s benefit.
His cousin didn’t have the grace to look embarrassed and Beck decided it was best to escape before Jamie said any more. Bad enough he’d figured out how strongly he felt now that it seemed to be too late. He didn’t need his cousin rubbing his face in his failure.
“I haven’t seen Dad yet. I should find him. Say hello.”
The excuse was weak, but the best he could do spur of the moment. He glared at Jamie as he passed. Didn’t Jamie know that family was supposed to provide support and not throw each other to the maternal wolves?
Since he didn’t want to talk to anyone, he headed back to the house and straight to the large kitchen, which was empty. Even the catering staff had departed for the moment, though trays of food were spread over the counters. But Beck never even got the chance to peek under the domed lids before the door behind him reopened.
“Seriously, Jamie?” He said something rude, expecting to hear the departing footsteps of his cousin.
“I guess that means you don’t want to talk?” He turned to find his mother instead, laughter sparkling in her eyes.
He frowned. Great. Not how he wanted to handle this new, burgeoning relationship they were working on. “Obviously, that wasn’t directed at you.” He ran a finger along the edge of the granite countertop. He rarely spoke without thinking. This was Poppy and Jamie’s fault. Getting under his skin and making him question who he was and what he wanted.
“Anything I can do to help?” Concern shone out of his mother’s eyes.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” What red-blooded male wanted to chat with his mother about his love life?
Victoria didn’t get the message and seated herself at the long trestle table that ran along one side of the kitchen. “Come on. Maybe I can help.” She patted the seat beside her.
“No,” Beck said, even as he found himself moving toward the empty seat, “you can’t.” This wasn’t like when he was a little boy and she’d tended to his cuts and scrapes with antisep
tic and get-better kisses. This ache went deeper, all the way to the center of his chest, and he didn’t like it. “There’s no problem to solve. I’ll be fine.”
He wanted to pummel something, but since there was no punching bag in the room, he settled for clenching and unclenching his hands.
His mother looked at his motions, then his face. “You sure about that?”
“Sure enough.”
Her smile dropped and for the first time in years, Beck saw her age. She wasn’t a young woman anymore. She looked good for her age, but she was getting older. He sighed.
“If there was anything to tell, Mom, you’d be the first to know.”
“Really?” The pure joy that bloomed on her face was like a spike in his heart. He’d pushed her away. She’d let him, but he was the one who’d initiated the distance between them. And the one who’d kept it alive all these long years.
“I know things haven’t been easy between us.” He took a deep breath. “And that’s my fault.”
“No.” Her eyes looked wet now. She clutched his hand to her shoulder, her engagement ring cutting into his fingers. “It was my fault. I was the adult. I should have made an effort. You were so angry and it was easier to...” She trailed off. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.” And he was. It felt surprisingly good to unburden this part of himself to her.
She tugged on his hand until he gave in and sat down. “Now quit trying to be so brave and tell me what’s bothering you. I’m an expert in these things.”
Beck smiled. “Yes, I would say you are.” Or, at least, more of one than him. “I think I might—” He stopped. How to bring up the subject?
“You’re in love with her.”
“I—” He stopped again. “Is that what this is?”
“Sweaty palms? Can’t stop thinking about her? Irrational anger that she’s not with you?”
“Sort of.” He dried his hands on his pants.
She studied him. “What are you going to do about it?”
Do about it? He hadn’t even known he was in love. “Are you sure it’s love? Maybe I just like her a lot.”
Victoria laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you like her a lot, too.” She laid a hand on his arm. “But yes, I think you’re in love.” She was quiet for a moment. “A little scary, isn’t it?”
“Try terrifying.” He thought he might have a heart attack right here in the kitchen. But as his pulse slowed, so did his swirling emotions. He heard the sounds of the party through the door. His mother’s party. He shouldn’t be monopolizing her when she had guests. “Maybe we could talk about it later?”
“No.” Victoria was firm. “This is the first time in years you’ve actually been willing to have a conversation with me about your personal life. I’m not letting this opportunity slip away.” She smiled as she patted his arm. “Let me help you.”
“How, Mom? I don’t know what to do.” He studied her, the pretty smile that was always full of love no matter how many times it had cut her off at the knees. “Any ideas?”
Her smile widened. “Just one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
POPPY WAS ALMOST certain this was the biggest mistake of her life, but it was too late to back out.
She continued down Granville Street, dodging other businesspeople, bike couriers and residents walking their dogs. She was only a few minutes away from the meeting site. Though her heart knocked hard against her chest, she knew planning Victoria and Harrison Lefebvre’s wedding might be the biggest boost her career had ever received. Bigger than Ned’s events. Bigger than anything she’d ever planned before. And she’d have been insane to turn the couple down.
Even though it was sure to put her directly in Beck’s eye line.
He was their only child and would obviously be a big part of the celebration. But, as she’d reminded herself multiple times already, this was a risk worth taking.
The Lefebvres had lots of friends, wealthy, corporate friends. The kind that owned their own companies and held parties for their staff and clients on a regular basis. The very people Poppy hoped to add to her stable of clientele. The chance to show them her styling and management skills in person proved impossible to resist.
Yes. She’d be foolish to turn the business down because of her personal relationship, or non-relationship, with Beck. He probably hadn’t given another thought to their restaurant run-in. No, he’d probably spent the last five days wining and dining the pretty women who populated the city while she stewed alone in her apartment. She still hadn’t forgiven Jamie.
He’d confessed immediately that he’d set the whole thing up in order to force Beck’s eyes open. Poppy had given him a blistering lecture that she didn’t need his help with her love life and if the man in question needed his eyes opened, then he wasn’t the right man for her in the first place.
And there was still a chance she wouldn’t see much of Beck anyway. He wouldn’t care about flowers or room flow or which officiant to hire for the ceremony. If she was fortunate, she might not have to see him until the actual day and then she’d be busy with the details—she wouldn’t have time to notice him.
Also, she’d be completely over him by then. Completely.
But even with the rallying cry running through her mind, Poppy was nervous as she crossed the street to the front of the hotel under renovation.
Victoria and Harrison were having the ceremony and reception at the hotel that Beck had finalized purchase on. Victoria had explained the hotel might not be at its best now, but it would be stunning upon completion. They wanted to have the wedding there as a sort of soft opening. To show off to their friends and family as well as create some buzz. She’d warned Poppy that imagination would be required to see past the drop cloths and dust, but imagination had never been Poppy’s problem.
While the front didn’t appear impressive at the moment, Poppy recognized the potential. She estimated the building to be about ten floors, with large windows and pillars to add architectural detailing. Beneath the years of grime and disuse, the exterior stone was black granite and would shine after a good polish. A pair of stone lions guarded the front doors and reminded her of the ones in front of Chicago’s Art Institute. Once she got past the flanked guards, the front doors were stunning even with the cracked panes of glass. The art deco–inspired arches made of metal and glass would be a showstopper when they were repaired and cleaned.
She checked in with the site manager, Lou, had her name checked off the list and was given a yellow hard hat to wear as they navigated through the maze of construction. Lou was a chatty fellow and happy to answer Poppy’s questions about what the hotel would look like once completed.
“Marble flooring, limestone and marble walls, lights everywhere so the whole thing glows. Going to be a beaut.”
Although they walked across wood subflooring right now and the walls were only partially up, Poppy could imagine the finished product. The lobby was large and circular with steps that led to a plateau where, Lou informed her, a circular desk would sit, so people would be able to check in on all sides. The counters would be covered in cool metal with glass details to offset the warmth of the natural white stones everywhere else. Loads of natural light would spill in from all the oversize windows.
The buzz of saws followed them as they walked, and the scent of sawdust filled the air. Poppy tried not to breathe it in, tried not to think of the last time she’d smelled sawdust with Beck on the brain. She’d been young and foolish then.
“Yo, boss.” They stopped outside a closed door. Lou rapped once and stuck his head inside. “Your appointment’s here.” He smiled at her. “You stop in and see me on your way out if you have any more questions.”
“Thank you.” Poppy smiled back and stepped through the door. She had a lot of questions whirling through her mind already. The flow of
the event and how they should utilize the lobby as more than just a pass-through. Whether the ceremony would be taking place indoors or on the garden patio that the site manager had mentioned. What vision did Victoria have in mind?
Then she saw who sat at the small metal desk waiting for her, and all her questions dried up and that lovely little bubble popped. Her eyes narrowed.
“What are you doing here, Beck?” And why did he have to look so good?
He smiled. He wore jeans and a black tee that had dust smudges on the arms, which only served to highlight his biceps. “Nice hat.”
Poppy immediately yanked off the offending yellow plastic monstrosity, ripping out a couple strands of hair in the process, and dropped the hat onto the desk with a clunk. “Just following safety procedures,” she told him.
If his head was uncovered, she saw no reason to keep the hard hat on. Really, the only danger of anything hitting either of them was if she decided to throw her briefcase at Beck’s head. Which he would totally deserve.
Instead, she kept her fingers curled around its handle and sat in the orange plastic chair on the opposite side of the desk. Beck watched her, smiling the whole time. She didn’t like it. What did he have to smile about?
“Where’s your mother?” she asked, pulling out the file she’d started after she’d agreed to take on the project. She told herself this was a manageable situation. She didn’t need to sit around making nice or engaging in chitchat. Get in, get out and act as if his presence didn’t affect her in the least.
“You look good, Red.”
She frowned at him. She couldn’t help herself. He knew her hair was auburn and not red. He was doing it to goad her. She was annoyed that it worked. “Thanks. Your mother? Where is she?”
“Something came up.”
She stared at his grinning face, her irritation rising. He was so smug, as though he’d just put one over on her. She didn’t think so. She shoved the file back into her briefcase. “Then we’ll have to reschedule.”
Not Another Wedding Page 22
