Back at the house. Will asked his mom to come through with a couple sandwiches and iced tea. then to leave them be in the library for a while. Barbara looked as if her son had given her gold. She didn't know what the specific discussion was going to be about. Didn't care. Typical of his mom. she could smell something good in the air.
She danced in with the sandwich tray and tea, bussed both her men on the forehead, swore no calls would get through unless there was a fire and closed the double doors to give them privacy.
'"You may not be willing to live with my terms. Dad." Will said frankly.
"Maybe not. Let's hear what you have to say." His father leaned forward, and damnation, but if he didn't shock Will by listening.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KELLY YANKED off her gardening gloves, swatted at a mosquito and stood up. The two peony plants were planted. Now she just had to mulch and water.
Ideally, she wouldn't have chosen to garden at seven-thirty on a hot, muggy night in the silk shirt and skirt she'd worn to work, but she was an emotional basket case. No point in denying it. She probably should have asked Will if he wanted peonies planted in the backyard before going ahead, but what the hey. The yard needed color; peonies were going to look gorgeous in that northeast corner, and she had to do something to calm herself.
Coming home from work, she'd picked up the mail and found the letter.
The letter sitting in the front hall right now.
She knifed open the first bag of mulch and started mounding it-another action that drew every mosquito from here to Indianapolis. She wasn't crying. It wasn't that kind of upset. She was thinking about crying, nonstop, but mostly she was festering on the inside. The letter was huge, but it wasn't the whole crisis.
Will was the whole crisis. They'd barely shared two seconds since his mother's party, and even though he was busy. Kelly knew perfectly well he was avoiding her. She didn't know specifically why, but she could guess. She'd pushed him too far. She'd nagged and badgered him too much. When it came down to true, clear thinking, she'd lost him because she couldn't get her shit together fast enough.
That wasn't counting that she probably didn't measure up when he'd seen her next to all his old, gorgeous, rich girlfriends at his mom's party-but that was just a detail, and she knew it.
She sniffed, opened the second bag of mulch, wiped a grimy hand on her Banana Republic outlet skirt, and almost jumped five feet when she suddenly saw Will striding toward her from the corner of the house.
"I rang the bell but couldn't find you. The house was open, so I figured you had to be around here somewhere… Kel. That's way too heavy for you." He jogged forward and grabbed the bag of mulch. The idiot was wearing a suit, the jacket open, but still a suit, which meant he immediately got mulch dust all over him.
She opened her mouth to yell, but couldn't because she was drinking him in. Something was different about him. Maybe a look of freedom or confidence or something, probably because he'd come over to formally dump her-but whatever it was, it looked good on him. Sexy. Compelling.
He wasn't meeting her eyes, making her feel even more tied up and freaked, but his hands did happen to be occupied, shaking out the mulch in a circle, so it was possible he didn't mean to be ignoring her. "Peonies?" he asked.
"Yeah, I know I should have asked you first. But that corner doesn't get a lot of sun, so…"
"They'll be perfect here." He added, "My mom never stops talking about gardening, so that's how I knew the plant. And just so you know, she was nuts about the gardening book you bought her."
"Was she?" Kelly thought her voice sounded pathetic. She'd really wanted to give his mother something that everybody else-everybody rich else-wouldn't think of.
"Beside-herself happy. She's got gardening books, but none about the history of design. She's crazy about it. You've got a hose close?"
"Yeah, I'll bring it." It was one of those old hoses, heavy to lug. and when she put the nozzle on. a wee bit of it missed and zapped him in the side.
He yelped, then laughed as if everything were perfectly fine between them, when they both knew it wasn't. Yet he just stole the hose from her and watered in the new plants, while she picked up the mulch bags and started the cleanup, moving slowly. As the sun dropped, the temperature cooled and the bugs got worse, yet she didn't want to hurry. She would likely have done anything to postpone the conversation she feared was coming. The dread thudding in her pulse seemed even worse, because Will coming over and joining her, the way they always seemed so naturally comfortable together, only invoked another sharp pang of loss.
"Good and watered in," he announced, and walked over to turn off the water. And just like that, the fun was over and her worst fear began.
"Kel," he said lazily, "we're not going to Paris."
"I knew you didn't come over here to hang, much less to mulch. Believe me, I knew, Will."
"Huh?" Momentarily he looked confused, then motioned toward the house. "Let's go in and clean up, okay?"
"No." He looked at her in confusion. "I can't go in the house for a few more minutes. Just let it go, all right? There's something in there I can't face for a while. Can we sit out on the steps?"
Naturally, Will, being Will, had to amend the plan. After rinsing their hands under the hose, she sat on the steps while he went into the kitchen, emerged with two dripping-cold cans of pop and a damp towel to wipe off their faces and necks. They both hunkered down on the front step, watching some neighborhood kids play kick ball at the end of the road.
"I had a long conversation with my dad." Will said. He was next to her. hip-touching close-but not. Not touching anywhere.
"Your dad?" She'd been so certain a breakup conversation was coming that she had to struggle to change mental gears.
"You were right, Kelly. It was on me to figure it out, not him. And you had the key, not me." Will sighed, stretched out his long legs. "I hate it when a woman is right."
"What is this humor? Tell me what happened!"
"Wellll." He told her. about taking his dad to the doctor's, hearing the doc's prognosis, then cornering his dad. "You told me I loved the company, Kel. But I've been so busy hating it for so many years that I never opened my stubborn eyes and looked. My whole life. I've actually been into business."
"I didn't think you'd ever see it."
"Well, that was the thing. Separating what I hated from what I loved, and figuring out how I could fit into it. So I told Dad I'd take it on, but on certain terms. I'm not supporting my sisters, not like he does, treating them like princesses with no brains of their own. So I told him I wanted a salary and stock in the company, a formal payback plan. My sisters can either take a job or a minor share of stock-not enough to give them voting rights over me. Anything else Dad wants to settle on them is fine, just as long as it isn't on me."
"How'd he take that plan?"
"He poured the whiskey. You can probably smell it on my breath." He leaned forward, close enough to kiss her, but he didn't.
"No smell of whiskey." she murmured, seeing his blond chin stubble, the tired lines around his eyes now. A dog barked in the middle of the street. She didn't look up.
"Well, we only had a sip. Dad shouldn't have had any, and I knew I was driving. Here." He scooped a curl off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. "I also told Dad he'd never make it as a retired layabout, and we needed to face reality, because we'll never be able to work together. So I offered him a job doing PR if he wanted it. He knows everybody in the business. They love him. He could do that totally separate from me so we wouldn't clash. If he doesn't want to, that's fine, too."
"How'd he take that?"
"He wanted more whiskey." He sighed. "Then we went out and told Mom. And she wanted to have a bunch of toasts, too. Mostly they both wanted to call you so you could have toasts with us, because they knew perfectly well you were the one who brought me on board."
"It wasn't me," Kelly began.
"Yeah. It was. It always was. My sisters
may not be terribly thrilled with the deal, but it's not hurting them. And actually, they might like the chance to be involved-or to have their own nest egg to invest or spend their own way, instead of always having to ask for it. And that's enough on this. My family issues have dominated our time way more than enough. It's time to get back to us."
She was just lifting the cold pop to her lips. Now she set it down again. Her fingertips were suddenly frozen, and not because of the temperature of the can. "Okay," she said carefully.
"I needed to find a way to resolve the deal with my dad. But the motivation was you, when I realized that you really didn't want to live in Paris."
"I told you I would-"
"Yeah, I know you did. But I also heard you talking to my sister about how much this was home for you. It wasn't what you said, it was the tone in your voice. How much it means to you. I didn't realize, I swear, Kel. I thought you'd love it in Paris."
"I'd love anywhere we were together. I told you. I meant it." Love ached in her voice. "It was you. I wanted you to be happy. And at first, I thought you were so dumb, Will. You couldn't see it, how hard you were working in Paris, how readily you found business work there, because that's so who you are. Maybe you wanted to think of yourself as not driven or ambitious, but I have news-"
"Well, maybe I am. Just a little."
"But en route, I got so confused. Because when we got back home here. I saw how it was with your sisters, your dad. They never let up. So then I thought maybe you were better off in Paris, and I'd just thrown an apple in the orange bin by pushing you so hard to settle things with your dad."
"Apple in the orange bin?"
"Whatever, I can't do metaphors right now. I'm having a major blond moment, and never mind that I'm brunette. Anyway. I'm just trying to say I didn't think you'd be happy until you figured it out. It wasn't even about your dad or about where you lived. You can live anywhere. You can do anything. But I really believed you needed to know the kind of work, the kind of life, that would make you happy. You needed to know vow."
"Hey. You were the one who lost her identity."
"I did. I did. But maybe that was when I recognized the lost soul in you, Maguire."
"Nah. I wasn't a lost soul. The minute I found you, I was never a lost soul again. Just because it took me a while to put the pieces together. I knew what the finished picture had to be. Kel. You. With me. Forever."
Oh, for God's sake. She thought she'd lost him. Her pop spilled and so did his when she hurled herself at him. Her mouth found his like a bee finds honey, knowing what she needed, knowing where exactly to find it. He tasted…oh, yeah. Just like her magical Will, the lips smooth and tender, that tongue of his wily and wet.
His shirt crinkled when he wrapped his arms around her. taking her in, holding her close, rocking her. "I never wanted you to give up anything for me, Kel. It made me feel good that you loved me enough to do that. But it made me feel awful as hell to think you'd leave something that really, really mattered to you to cater to me."
"I'd be happy to cater to you." She stopped to kiss him again, on the throat, on his cheek. "I just didn't believe you'd be happy, which meant that I didn't believe we could be happy as a pair unless both of us were very clear about who we are. What we need. From each other. From ourselves. I was afraid."
"I don't want you ever afraid again."
"I was afraid you'd always feel dissatisfied. Kind of trapped if all that stuff about your father was hanging over your head."
"Well, it's not hanging now." He stood, pulled her up and leveled a slow, hard kiss on her lips until they were both out of breath. "I've got something in my pocket for you."
"I know."
"Not there. My real pocket. The right one. Feel?"
Since he asked, she voluntarily groped and probed. "I'm finding two hard things. One is harder than the other. But one definitely seems to feel like a small square box."
"Yeah, that's the one I was trying to tell you about. The other thing's for you, too, but I think we'd better go inside first, don't you?"
She did. but suddenly remembered what was inside the front door, and froze.
"WHAT'S WRONG? What's in the house?"
"A letter," she said. "Actually a letter and a check. Or an international money order, to be precise, rather than a check-check. Not that I've seen anything like this before, but-"
"Kelly, spit out what you're talking about." His arm protectively around her, he determinedly led her inside now. Lawn mowers were still droning in the distance, a few kids in the street playing kickball. but the sun was dropping like a stone.
Inside Kelly's front door, Will switched on the overhead, which happened to be an old brass chandelier, and immediately smelled fresh paint, dried fresh varnish. The front hall looked extraordinarily different, with crown moldings and gleaming wood floors. She'd done wonders, which didn't surprise him. The only things out of place were the two torn pieces of paper on the floor.
"It was for…well. I had to convert it from euros. But I think it was for about a half million dollars. And believe me, I couldn't wait to tear it up," Kelly told him.
He saw her eyes. All the hurt, all the fury. Another time, he would have pressed a hand on his heart to make sure it didn't leap out of his chest, but he needed to clarify the situation before indulging in a heart attack. "You tore up a check for a half million dollars?" he repeated.
"I don't want it! I never wanted his stupid money, Will! I don't want anybody's money! Money is just…" She made whirling motions with her hands.
"I know. It's just money." he said, soothing her, loving her another zillion-years' worth. She really didn't give a damn about fortunes, at least not in the way most people in his life always had.
"He got the results from the stupid DNA test. He also got all my e-mails, all the ones he never answered. But now he says he read them. And when he got the DNA results, he sent the check, admitted he was wrong. He should have acknowledged me before. He wants to get to know me now. He regrets not being part of my growing-up years and all that, blah-blah-blah."
Tears spattered from her eyes. Not a gush of them, just a little splash.
'That's what you wanted."
"I didn't want money. I wanted him to know me. To want to know me. To really believe I didn't want anything from him but to find out who my father was. The check feels like a stupid payoff."
Again Will shot a quick look at the torn-in-two check. At least she hadn't shredded it. It might just tape back together. Not that he was inclined to mention that now.
One of them had to be practical in this life.
Will knew which one of them was going to be. But right now, he locked the door-physically and in every other sense-against any and all intrusions. Including practical ones.
"You know what?" he murmured, and pulled her into his arms again.
"What?"
"Whatever you do about your dad, I'll be standing next to you."
"Whatever you're stuck with. Will, I want to be standing next to you."
The kiss that followed seemed softer than silver, shinier than gold. He gave from his heart, showing her his heart. He'd never done that before…really, truly, revealed his naked heart to anyone. But Kelly knew him, better than he knew himself.
He could trust her, more than he even could himself.
"I'm thinking," he said, "that I'd really like to see what you've done with the upstairs…"
"Brilliant idea," she assured him, and turned toward the stairs. "You want to start with a shower?"
"Yes. Together. But I'd really like to show you the box in my pocket first."
"Oh. Oh, yes, the box." She lifted her head, showing him the mischievous smile, the brown eyes so full of emotion. The Kelly he'd first fallen in lust with. The Kelly he'd later fallen hopelessly in love with.
He dug in his pocket, and emerged with the velvet box. Because she never could wait more than two seconds for a present, she pounced.
She fell silent as she
looked at the contents.
"Will," she said quietly, "there are two rings here. Not one."
"I know. The big one-the hussy- I thought you'd better have a three-carat sparkler, so your mom would like me."
Her head shot up. "She already likes you."
"I know, I know. I've been making headway with her, but this is insurance. The other one, though…"
"I love the other one, Will."
"I hoped you would. It was my great-grandmother's. I know, it's not as big. And it's a really old-fashioned setting, but…" He couldn't finish, because she had wound her arms around his neck. Again. And just hugged. Fiercely. Ardently.
"Ask me," she ordered him.
"Will you? Be my bride, my wife, share life and love with me?" Hell. He knew he wouldn't say it well. He didn't do emotional stuff well. But he hoped she could hear all the love in his voice. The need, the want, the feeling.
"I will. If you'll be my husband, my mate, my love through life." she whispered back.
Hours and hours later, she murmured from the pillow next to him, "Do you want to honeymoon in Paris?"
He answered with the obvious. "We can, but we don't have to travel to do that."
"Huh?"
"You are my Paris, Kel. You always will be." And he kissed her again, just to make sure she understood what he meant.
Jennifer Greene
***
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Blame It On Paris Page 26
