A Summer Wedding at Cross Creek Inn

by Cheryl Holt

  “What did Eric have to say about it?”

  “As far as I’m aware, nobody’s talked to him.”

  Suddenly, her mom flew down the stairs, and she was concealing her identity too, with cheap sunglasses, nondescript jeans, and boots. A baseball cap was pulled very low to shield her face, and there was no camera crew following along to capture her every move. A satchel was tossed over her shoulder, as if she’d quickly filled it with the bare necessities.

  Without even glancing at Lindsey, she raced through the Great Room and out the front doors where a limo waited. She sped by them and snapped, “Lindsey! Come!”

  Then she flitted down the steps, and a valet whipped the car door open. She threw in her satchel and slid into the back seat.

  Looking miserable and morose, Lindsey pushed herself to her feet, and he had to physically stop himself from giving her a tight hug.

  “I guess I better be going,” she said. “I shouldn’t loaf in here and risk bumping into Dennis.”

  “No, that wouldn’t be smart.”

  “He claims he’s sending me to rehab.”

  “Yeah, you told me.”

  “I don’t want to do that.”

  In light of her mom’s antics with Eric, Kyle didn’t think Mr. Benjamin would be worrying much about Lindsey in the future. If he divorced her mom, he wouldn’t care about Lindsey or her many problems, but there wasn’t time to have that discussion.

  He shrugged. “Don’t automatically refuse. You drink too much, so it might be good for you.”

  “Spoken like a guy who’s not about to be locked away himself.” She smiled a weary smile. “Could I text you occasionally?”

  His first impulse was to decline the request, but his strong perception had always been that she had no genuine friends, and he reminded himself yet again that he never liked to be a dick.

  “Sure, you can,” he said, “whenever you like. You have my number. You hang in there, okay?”

  “I will.”

  To his great surprise, she gave him a tight hug, providing the distinct impression that she was panicked and terrified. She might never have released him, but her mother called from over in the driveway, “Lindsey! Come now or I swear I’ll drive off without you.”

  Lindsey gazed up at him and sullenly said, “My life sucks.”

  “You can fix yourself though. It’s always possible.”

  “You’re an optimist, and I hate optimists.”

  He laughed at that. “Text me. It would be fun to hear from you.”

  “Whatever . . .” she vaguely said.

  She trudged off to join her mother. He went out to the portico and watched as she climbed in the car and it rolled away. The windows were tinted, so he couldn’t see her, but he hoped she was watching him too because he waved until she vanished out the security gate.

  “Why must I tell him?”

  “Who else can, Mom?”

  Sharon glared at Alex and said, “This isn’t any of my business. It’s Eric’s dilemma, and Crystal is Dennis’s wife. Aren’t I an innocent bystander?”

  She’d been in her suite when Alex had rushed in to impart the news that the wedding was cancelled. She was suffering numerous wild swings of emotion: relief for Greg and his daughter, shock over what had occurred, distress over what a monumental task it would be to clean up the mess.

  She was also enjoying the debacle very, very much. Crystal had been her nemesis for fifteen years, and she thought it was absolutely hilarious that Crystal had been caught with Eric. Dennis’s massive ego would never recover.

  “Dad can’t hear about it through gossip down in the lobby,” Alex said. “That would be awful.”

  “I agree, but why don’t you grab Eric and drag him to your dad? Force him to confess.”

  “As if he would,” Alex scoffed.

  “Dennis will kill the messenger. You realize that, don’t you? He probably won’t even believe me.”

  “He can believe what he likes, but we will have done the right thing. Isn’t that the best way to proceed?”

  “According to who?”

  “According to you? It’s what you taught me growing up.”

  “I take it back then. The right thing doesn’t seem so black-and-white to me all of a sudden. At the moment, it’s a very fuzzy gray.”

  Alex snorted and extended his hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

  She clasped hold, and he lifted her to her feet.

  “If he shouts at me,” she said, “I’ll walk out.”

  “He won’t shout.” Alex halted, then scowled. “Well, he might shout, but we’ll just speak our piece and go. After that, Eric and Crystal are his problem.”

  “You act as if this will be easy.”

  “It won’t be easy, but it’ll be quick.”

  They exited their suite and started down the hall. As they strolled along, she asked, “Is Eric still at the Inn? Or has he run away rather than face the music?”

  “I have no idea where he is. For all I know, he and Crystal are still in his bathroom.”

  She groaned. “Ah! Stop painting that picture. I can’t shove it out of my mind.”

  They reached Dennis’s door, and they knocked several times, but received no answer. They were about to leave when he yanked it open with a surly, one-word greeting of, “What?”

  He appeared to be dressing for the wedding. He was wearing the shirt and trousers to his tux, the shirt half-buttoned and the tail untucked, so apparently, he hadn’t been informed yet.

  He didn’t invite them in, so there was a tricky, lengthy pause, then Alex asked, “Is Crystal here?”

  “No. I sent her and her drunken kid to LA. That girl has caused all the trouble in my life I ever intend to allow.”

  Sharon had no idea who he was referring to as a girl. His wife or Lindsey?

  “When did you last talk to her?” Alex said.

  “About nine? I went to have breakfast down in the village, and I ordered her to beat it before I was back.”

  “You haven’t seen her since?”

  “No.”

  “So you don’t know . . .” Alex murmured.

  “Don’t know what?” Dennis focused his caustic attention on Sharon and said, “What are you staring at?”

  “Could we come in for a minute?” was her reply. “Our mission is awkward, and we shouldn’t discuss it out in the hall.”

  Dennis studied them, his assessment exasperated and sneering, then he waved them in.

  “From your grim expression,” he said to her, “I’m betting you’re about to tell me something infuriating.”

  “There’s good news and bad news. The good news is that the wedding is cancelled—forever—so you don’t have to finish getting ready.”

  “Why would it be cancelled? I paid for it, and at this late date, I can’t request a refund. We better be having it.”

  “Nope. Jennifer backed out.”

  “We’ll see about that!” he raged.

  He marched toward the door as if he’d head to Jennifer’s room and command that she proceed, and Alex blocked his path.

  “Mom hasn’t told you the bad news, Dad.”

  Dennis whipped around and glowered at Sharon, as if—whatever had created the problem—it had to be her fault.

  “Sit down, Dennis,” she said. “After I divulge the details, you might faint, and I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  “Where the hell are you off to in such a hurry?”

  Dennis loomed into Eric’s suite, preventing his son’s exit. Eric was dressed for traveling, looking like the male model he was: designer jeans, bomber jacket, aviator sunglasses. An expensive leather satchel was casually tossed over his shoulder.

  He could have been about to pose for one of his print ads, the ads he booked because Dennis had opene
d every door the lazy asshole had ever walked through.

  “Hello, Dad.” His cocky swagger was tucked out of sight for once.

  “Were you hoping to slither away before anybody bothered to tell me?”

  “No, I . . . ah . . . thought you might be angry, and I should let you calm down.”

  “You thought I might be angry? You’ll be lucky if I don’t storm over and beat you to a pulp. I would love to wreck that pretty face of yours. If I broke your nose in a few places, you wouldn’t be quite so sought-after on all those magazine covers.”

  Josh was over by the window, and he said, “Could I say something, Mr. Benjamin?”

  “No, you may not!” Dennis kept his furious gaze locked on Eric. “How long?”

  Eric was confused by the question. “What?”

  “How long have you been fucking my wife?”

  At his using the crude term, both boys winced, and Josh said, “Eric was probably right. We should discuss this later.”

  “Shut up, Josh!” Dennis shouted. “This is between me and Eric. Be quiet or leave.”

  “Sorry,” Josh mumbled. “I was just trying to help.”

  “How long has it been going on?” he demanded of Eric again.

  “Awhile.” His reply was so soft that it was nearly inaudible.

  “What was that, you little prick?”

  “Well . . . ah . . . maybe ever since she first moved in with us?”

  Fifteen years?

  Dennis was floored. In all the time he’d been married to Crystal, the possibility had never occurred to him. His life was chock-full of beautiful women. They threw themselves at his feet, and out of all of them, he’d chosen her.

  He’d dumped Sharon for her. He’d let her have Sharon’s spot in his world, and evidently, her initial act had been to seduce his kid!

  It was such a shocking revelation that he simply couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He was king of his universe. How dare Crystal betray him like this? How dare his son participate!

  “Here is what I expect you to do,” he fumed. “I will have my accountant tabulate the cost of this fiasco, and you will repay me for every penny I wasted.”

  “Sure, sure, whatever,” Eric muttered.

  “Then you will write a very appropriate letter to Greg Layton where you will most humbly beg his pardon for hurting his daughter.”

  Dennis didn’t really like Greg Layton, but he was suffering a huge wave of unusual compassion. He didn’t have a daughter, but if some punk like Eric had treated her this way, Dennis would be out for blood. The poor man deserved an apology.

  “A letter, Dad?” Eric asked derisively. “Seriously? That’s so old-fashioned.”

  “I would never make him put up with you in person or on a phone. You’ll write him a nice, sincere letter—immediately. As to your ex-fiancée, you can handle her however you wish, but deal with it today, before you slink out of this Inn like the cur you apparently are.”

  Eric bristled, as if the insult wasn’t warranted. “Hey, I was planning to track down Jennifer.”

  “Like hell you were.” Dennis scoffed with disgust. “I’m checking out and flying to LA. Once you’re back too, don’t contact me. Don’t call me. Don’t bug me for money. I won’t give you any.”

  “I have my trust fund, so if you imagine you’re imposing some onerous financial burden, you’re not.”

  “I’m the trustee, remember? I’ve suddenly decided that I’ve been disbursing too much of the balance. I’m terribly afraid you’ll have to reduce your expenses. I won’t be depositing any further money either. You’ve received every cent from me that you’ll ever receive.”

  Eric looked at Dennis as if he was bewildered, and he said, “I don’t understand where all this outrage is coming from. You don’t even like Crystal. Why would you care if she and I had a few hook-ups?”

  “The fact that you have to ask that question makes me wonder if you don’t have some brain damage. She’s my wife, you idiot. I may be tired of her, but that doesn’t mean you get to screw her on a bathroom sink in a hotel room.”

  He stomped out, his fury bubbling to such a hot degree that there were red dots on the edge of his vision, and he worried he was about to have a stroke. He was dizzy and flushed, and he slowed his pace, so that, when he arrived at his door, he wasn’t feeling quite so disoriented.

  Still though, his hands were shaking so violently that several tries were required for him to wedge his keycard into the slot. He trudged to the bedroom and searched the closets and dressers to be certain Crystal’s things were gone. She’d brought a vanload of clothes with her from LA, so she hadn’t taken them all, but she’d taken some.

  The witch had fled, which was a relief, and he was glad of it, but she’d stirred a massive pot of issues he couldn’t bear to confront. He never wanted her life to impact his, and she must have forgotten how malicious he could be.

  When he’d vented himself on Sharon, Crystal had egged him on and had insisted his cruelty was funny, that Sharon had deserved it, but Sharon’s only sin had been that she’d grown a bit older and had started to annoy him.

  What was Crystal thinking? Was she assuming he wouldn’t lash out? She wasn’t stupid, so how could she think that?

  He grabbed his phone, having to punch in the numbers over and over before the call connected to his assistant in LA. He arranged to have the locks changed on their house, the credit cards frozen, the bank accounts closed.

  By the time Crystal landed in California, her world would be a whole lot smaller.

  As he staggered to the sofa and plopped down, the suite was horribly quiet and to his great surprise, he was very sad. And disappointed too. How could she act like this? How could Eric?

  He was anxious to talk to somebody, but who? Sharon was probably the best choice, but he could hardly whine to her about how he’d been betrayed by the wife who’d replaced her.

  He was completely alone, and it was what he’d always told himself he liked, but now, he needed someone desperately. The sole person even remotely available was his new girlfriend, Liberty Bell, who was down in the village, but he’d never share any of his anguish with her.

  She was a kid and practically a stranger. What did she know about heartache?

  Who was there, out of all the people on the planet, to listen and maybe even commiserate?

  He couldn’t think of a single one.

  “What do you want?”

  “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

  Jennifer stared at Eric, then glanced into the suite. Her dad, Amy, and Kyle were tired of the drama, so they’d fled the stifling atmosphere for a bit. Rachel was the only one still there.

  She asked Rachel, “What’s your opinion? Should I talk to him or not?”

  Rachel shot a glare at Eric that could have melted lead, then she said, “It’s up to you. If he were my despicable ex-fiancé, I’d tell him to go screw himself.” She snickered nastily. “Or maybe I’d tell him to go screw his stepmother. It’s what he’s good at. Who were you in bed with on Wednesday, Eric?”

  “What?” he asked her, confused by the question.

  “When you couldn’t fly to Colorado because of the weather, there weren’t any storms on the east coast. I’m just curious who you were with. Was she worth it?”

  He opened his mouth as if he might actually reply, but Jennifer was certain—whatever he’d say—it would be a lie, and she couldn’t bear to hear the story he’d invent to cover his tracks.

  She didn’t care what excuses he offered for his conduct. Though it was odd to admit, it seemed as if she was a hundred miles down the road from her relationship with him. He was in the rearview mirror. He was a stranger she’d passed on the side of the highway.

  Why wasn’t she more distressed? She’d assumed she was madly in love with him. Had it been a false sentiment? She was fa
irly sure not, so how had her fond affection vanished in an instant?

  She supposed, for the moment, she was simply stunned and unable to feel much of anything. Later on, emotion would return with a vengeance.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said to Rachel.

  “Why not discuss it with him in front of me?” Rachel responded. “If he’s a prick to you, I can throw something at him. I don’t mind pitching in.”

  “Hey!” He held out his hands, as if in supplication, “I came to apologize.”

  Rachel shrugged. “So apologize. No one’s stopping you.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Jennifer said to him.

  As the door shut behind them, Rachel mumbled, “Asshole.”

  Jennifer walked down the hall, skirting by him so none of her body parts touched his. There was an alcove at the end, with a loveseat and big windows so guests could sit and gaze out at the scenery. She marched to it, not checking to see if he followed. She figured he would.

  She spun to face him, and she was in a defensive posture, feet braced, arms crossed over her chest, and she thought—if he spewed an idiotic remark—she might punch him.

  She was silent, waiting for him to begin. He was totally at fault, and she wouldn’t make the encounter easy on him.

  Finally, he said, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “You claimed you’d like to apologize, but you haven’t yet sounded as if you’re sorry.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “For what portion of it?” she asked. “For arriving late and lying about why you were delayed? For ignoring me constantly so you could party with Josh? For barely acknowledging my family, as if you were too marvelous to notice them? For your screwing your stepmother in your bathroom right before our wedding? Which transgression would you like to address first?”

  “I’m sorry for all of it.”

  “Why did you propose to me that night in Tahiti? Can you even try to explain your thinking?”

  “I liked you.” His use of the past tense was infuriating. “I still like you.”

  “Those times you told me you loved me, what was that? You were simply play-acting?”

  “I’m not a man who can actually fall in love with a woman.”