The Best-Made Plans
Page 11
Then she stopped, suddenly, as she remembered that there were several things she was going to have to talk to Marcus about tomorrow. And before that time came, she was going to have to figure out exactly what she was going to say and do.
At the moment, all she knew was that it wasn’t likely to be pleasant.
*****
At midnight they finished calling the out-of-town guests on Laura’s list and decided there was no more that could be done before morning.
Audrey tucked Laura into the extra twin bed in Kaitlyn’s room, since the guest room had long since been piled full of boxes, and came back downstairs with a sigh. “As if the fact that he’s got a little money makes a man a good husband,” she said wearily. “What folly it is to try to manage our children’s lives. Whatever mistakes they make only become worse when we try to change their minds.” She looked at Kaitlyn with something in her eyes that was almost fear — as if she’d said more than she had intended — and got up abruptly. “I think I’ll make some more tea. Would you like a cup, Kaitlyn?”
Penn was right, Kaitlyn thought unhappily. Mother doesn’t like Marcus.
Audrey hadn’t breathed a word about her feelings to Kaitlyn, because she so obviously believed it would be wrong to try to change her daughter’s mind — or perhaps because she thought any attempt to influence Kaitlyn would only make things worse. But it was clear she was convinced it would be a mistake for Kaitlyn to marry Marcus.
And what about me? Kaitlyn asked herself. What do I think now?
She went to bed not quite certain of the answer to that question, and was up again as soon as it was decently light outside. Laura was still asleep in the other twin bed, and though the girl was frowning as if her dreams were tormented ones, Kaitlyn didn’t disturb her.
She went downstairs in her terry-cloth bathrobe and bright tartan slippers to telephone the pastor, asking him to post a notice on the church doors because it was obvious that they were not going to be able to reach all the guests before the hour set for the wedding. Kaitlyn decided that she would count herself lucky if she could keep the cake from arriving; she hadn’t been able to reach the bakery owner last night. And as for the cartons and cartons of candles that were already standing in the foyer of the church, ready to symbolize the light of new love...
Schnoodle gave a sharp bark from the garden and Kaitlyn went to let him in. But he was objecting to the presence of a half-dozen young men who were coming up the garden path. Around the corner of the house, Kaitlyn could see a rental truck in the driveway.
“We’re helping Mrs. Ross move some boxes into storage,” one of them explained, and they all trooped past Kaitlyn and into the kitchen before she had even remembered to close her mouth, much less the door.
Audrey hadn’t said anything about moving today — had she? Kaitlyn couldn’t remember, but that was no sure indication, considering how her week had been going. Half of downtown Springhill could have exploded and she wouldn’t have noticed.
Schnoodle followed the workers in and went straight to his basket, in the one undisturbed corner of the kitchen.
“Some watchdog you are,” Kaitlyn told him. Then, hearing her mother in the main hallway starting to give instructions, she shrugged off the whole business and went back to her list.
Within an hour she’d learned to ignore the crew of movers and the steady stream of boxes and furniture that passed through the kitchen and out to the truck. Laura came downstairs, her voice steadier after a little sleep and her hands no longer trembling, and took over Kaitlyn’s place at the telephone.
So Kaitlyn was staring out the window at the gradually-filling rental truck, wondering how to deal with a cake that would serve three hundred people, when Marcus arrived.
He glanced at the chaos in the kitchen, then said tightly, “I’m shocked, Kaitlyn.”
She looked at him for one long moment in which she heard none of the noise that surrounded her, saw none of the confusion. Every iota of her attention was focused on Marcus — at the handsome face with the unyielding expression, and the arrogant set of his shoulders and the cool, assessing look in his eyes.
After what had happened last night, it was inconceivable that there was not a hint of apology in his voice, or – at a minimum – a bit of caution about approaching this discussion. Surely – even if Marcus believed that she had been mostly at fault – he couldn’t have convinced himself that there was nothing at all wrong or shady or unwise about his own actions, could he?
And then Kaitlyn knew exactly how Laura had felt last night when that weighty question had been asked and the unexpected answer had forced itself from her.
She glanced around the kitchen and shrugged. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than that, Marcus. What’s shocking you? Don’t you approve of the packing job? Or the fact that Mother isn’t using professional movers? Or is it that you couldn’t get through on the telephone this morning? Or—”
“Your state of undress, for one thing.”
Kaitlyn had forgotten about her robe. It was short and made of summer-weight terry — and now that she thought about it, there had been some glances, ranging from shy to embarrassed to bold, as the young men had passed back and forth through the kitchen.
“Go and put on some clothes this instant.”
If he hadn’t issued the order, Kaitlyn would have excused herself quietly and gone up to her room. But the cold command set the hair at the back of her neck on end.
“Why?” she asked stubbornly.
“Because we can’t get this matter straightened out in the midst of this mess.” He looked around with distaste.
“Oh? So at least you’re admitting that we’ve got some things to straighten out?” she asked sweetly. “And you just popped in and expected it to be convenient for me?”
“I couldn’t call to arrange an appointment to discuss the problem, could I?”
He was right about that, and Kaitlyn had to admit it.
Laura cupped her hand over the receiver. “I’m sorry, Kaitlyn — I’ve caused you enough trouble. Look, I don’t think there’s anything else you can do. I’ll keep calling the guest list, but since there’s only one phone line—”
“And since it is your wedding, Laura, and your notion to cancel it,” Marcus told her, “it does seem only fair that you do the embarrassing work. Go get dressed, Kaitlyn.”
I suppose I might as well, Kaitlyn thought. This discussion would have to be held, and the sooner the better. And he was right; they couldn’t talk about it here.
Meekly, she headed for the back stairs.
It was pure stubbornness that made her ignore the sports coat and tie Marcus was wearing and put on ordinary jeans and a pullover cotton sweater. She left her makeup in the case, too, pulled her hair back and captured it with a ribbon at the nape of her neck, and shoved her feet into canvas shoes.
When she came back downstairs, Marcus looked momentarily discomfited. “I thought we’d have brunch at the club, but you’re hardly dressed for it.”
She smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry. I thought you were in a hurry. How about the truck stop instead? You won’t be recognized there.”
He scowled and Kaitlyn reminded herself there was no value to sarcasm at this point. It would be far better to get this talk over with quickly, calmly, and without blame. It had all been a mistake, but it was largely she who had made it — and it would not be healed faster by slashing at the wounds.
“I’m sorry, Marcus,” she said, with honest regret. “I shouldn’t snap at you.”
He tucked her solicitously into the front seat of his Mercedes. “Of course I understand, darling. It’s been a difficult couple of days for you.” He went around the car and slid behind the wheel, and playfully shook a finger at her. “I must warn you, though — if you ever hang up a telephone on me again, Kaitlyn, I shall be very unhappy.”
“I’m not likely to do that,” she murmured.
Marcus smiled. “That’s very wise of you.”
“What a hash that girl has made of things,” Marcus said.
Kaitlyn contemplated telling him what had really been going on at the noisy bachelor party that had so annoyed him. She decided against it because not even that would make him sympathetic to Laura. He would probably just be more offended with Jack Bailey — not for his immoral actions, but for daring to interfere with Marcus’s peace of mind and the country club’s rules.
“Of course, if this episode brings you to your senses, I’ll owe her a debt of gratitude.”
Kaitlyn took a long swallow from her coffee mug. “What do you mean, if it brings me to my senses?”
“About this business of yours, and the problems it leads to. I suppose now you’ll have to sue to collect the rest of the fee you’re owed.”
Her temper flared. “If you think I’d sue Laura, and add to her pain right now—”
“That’s exactly my point, Kaitlyn. You did the work; you’ve a right to be paid for it, whether there’s a wedding or not. But you’re too softhearted to go after it. You haven’t got the right makeup to be in business, you know — you don’t know how to properly organize your time so that you can do more than one thing at once. And you have too much sympathy for people to be a good manager.”
“Are you saying I have no killer instinct?” She raised her cup to her lips and looked at him over the rim of it.
“Perhaps that’s wording it a little strongly, but—”
“Well, I’m proud that I’m not some sort of shark. And I don’t have any intention of ever trying to become one, either. My business is service, Marcus.” And, she reminded herself, there was no point in carrying this conversation any further, because her business was not really what they came here to talk about. “Marcus,” she said more gently. “I was very hurt last night when you pretended to your colleagues that my business didn’t even exist.”
“Kaitlyn—”
“I know you were trying to make a good impression on them, but it didn’t work out that way at all, did it? You made me look like some kind of thoughtless, brainless female instead.” She drew a deep breath. “I admit it was inefficient to book myself two appointments at the same time, but it was an oversight. Would you honestly rather have them think I was just being rude for the fun of it?”
He sighed. “Well, of course, when you put it that way… but if it wasn’t for the damned business, Kaitlyn, there wouldn’t have been a problem!”
She looked at him for a long moment, and then she said quietly, “My business is not the problem, Marcus. We have a basic disagreement about what we want out of life— that’s the problem.” She twisted the engagement ring from her finger and held it out to him. The marquise diamond sparkled subtly in the sunshine that flooded the coffee shop.
He didn’t reach for it. “Don’t be melodramatic, Kaitlyn,” he said briskly. “Breaking off an engagement is a very serious matter.”
“I’m quite aware of that.”
“And it’s a very poor device for getting attention.”
“I’m dead serious, Marcus. Please show enough respect for me to believe that I’m not doing this lightly.” Kaitlyn’s arm was already a bit weary, stretched out at full length across the table. The ring seemed to weigh a full pound.
He didn’t move. “Just because Laura backed out of her wedding is no reason for you to have some sort of sympathy pains and do the same thing.”
“Marcus, take the blasted ring.”
“No,” he said firmly. “You’re tired and you’re angry, and I admit that perhaps I should have been more cautious last night. But hurt feelings are no reason for breaking off our engagement, Kaitlyn.”
“Yes, they are. Precisely because you don’t understand how important hurt feelings can be.” She set the ring atop the pile of jelly packets in a dish at the center of the table and stood up just as the waitress brought two plates, each half-covered by a still-sizzling omelet. She had a momentary urge to sit down and dig in; the food looked good, and suddenly, with the worst behind her, she felt almost hungry. Then she thought better of it. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m moving this afternoon. I’d better go start getting organized.”
The way the words popped out surprised her a bit, for she hadn’t really thought about it till that moment. It made sense, however; her afternoon was suddenly free, and when those young men were finished with her mother’s things, one more load would have all of Kaitlyn’s moved as well. It would be a great deal easier than trying to do it herself tomorrow.
“We aren’t finished discussing this.”
“Yes, we are.” She stepped toward the door.
Marcus wiped his lips with his napkin — ever proper, Kaitlyn noted — scooped up the ring and followed her.
“You’re distraught, Kaitlyn. You can’t possibly make reasonable decisions in the heat of anger.”
“He may not call you Kitten,” Penn had said, “but he treats you like one.”
As infuriating as Penn was, he’d been right about that much.
She pulled her car keys from the side pocket of her handbag and then remembered that she didn’t have her car. She said idly, “Where would you have taken me for a honeymoon, Marcus?”
He blinked, looking a bit owlish. “Does it make a difference?”
“You mean, will I change my mind if I like the destination? No. I was just curious.”
“I’ve always liked the idea of Bermuda,” he said stiffly.
“February in Bermuda,” she mused. She dropped the keys back into her handbag. “Careful, Marcus. The waitress is ready to call the law on you for leaving without paying your bill.” She pushed the door open.
“I won’t stand for being treated in this high-handed way,” he warned. “If you walk out now, Kaitlyn, it’s over.”
“That’s the general idea.” She said it as gently as she could, and she honestly felt sorry for him when she realized that the look in his eyes wasn’t anger, or resentment. It was simple confusion.
Tired as she was, she could feel a new spring come into her step as she left the central business district and walked toward the residential section of town. If that was what Marcus called discussing a problem, she was grateful she wasn’t going to be discussing any more of them with him.
*****
Darkness always seemed to come earlier and more suddenly at Sapphire Lake than in town, because of the hills and the trees that shielded the little valley. By the time the last of Kaitlyn’s boxes were carried into Jill’s cabin and the movers left, dusk was starting to settle over the peaceful water.
She looked around with a sinking heart. Stacks of cartons occupied every corner of the main room of the A-frame cabin, and though from her position at the bottom of the spiral stairs she couldn’t see into the single bedroom up in the loft, she knew it was piled high as well.
Her car was still packed full of clothes. Paper bags of supplies filled the small table in the tiny galley kitchen at the back of the cabin; she had shoved the perishables into the refrigerator, but she would have to sort the rest out before she could even fix herself a peanut butter sandwich. There was a bed to be made, if she could find sheets — either among her own possessions or somewhere in a closet. Preferably her own, because the whole cabin felt damp and chilly, as if it had been closed up too long. A fire might banish that musty feeling — if she only had the energy to go looking for wood and kindling. But she didn’t, so she’d just have to settle down to work and at least get enough done so she could crawl into a comfortable bed. Tomorrow would be enough time for luxuries.
She flipped the switch to turn on the electric lantern that hung in the center of the big room. The bulb
flared into unnatural brilliance for a fraction of a second, and then popped ominously and went dark again. Kaitlyn swore under her breath. The damned lantern was her main source of light. It was also too high to reach — twelve feet off the floor if it was an inch — and she couldn’t remember seeing a ladder or a step stool anywhere. Now, in the rapidly-gathering dark, she couldn’t even look for one, or for a replacement bulb, either. And it was a sure thing that she couldn’t do much unpacking without light.
“I should have picked up a box of Laura’s candles,” she muttered. “She isn’t ever going to use them all.” She chewed on her lower lip for a moment and then took Schnoodle’s leash down from the hook by the back door and fastened it to his collar. She might as well kill two birds with one stone — she could walk the dog as well as check the neighborhood for a ladder.
She paused on the gravel path just outside the A-frame and then forced herself to turn toward the Caldwell cabin. It would be only sensible to ask Penn first, since his was the nearest cabin she knew was occupied. It would look very strange if she didn’t.
She hadn’t exactly planned to go calling on him – at least not so soon. It would be much better to be casual about it, she had decided, and then when he inevitably found out that she was living in the cabin… well, she’d take it from there. But she couldn’t function in the dark.
With any luck at all, Penn would be out, and she could go on down the row of cabins until she found someone else at home.
But there was a car in the driveway, as well as the beat-up old pickup truck. It was not a new car, or a luxurious one, but it was nice enough, and the unmistakable smell of a steak searing on a barbecue grill drifted across the path.
He’s entertaining. That’s just great. Now it would look as if nosy Kaitlyn couldn’t stand not knowing who was visiting him.
She walked slowly around the corner of the house. Schnoodle began tugging at his leash and every muscle of his body went tight and alert as he sniffed the air.