“You think he isn’t miserable already? You thought otherwise when we were discussing the bedroom situation.”
I thought about it for a while as I finished my makeshift dinner. “It really depends on his personality, I suppose. Perhaps he’s the kind to take lovers here and there in secret to make up for the lack of intimacy in his marriage, or perhaps he’s the kind who doesn’t require intimacy at all.” I sighed, saddened by the thought. “I just hope it isn’t like that if I ever get married.”
“Is marriage on your agenda?”
I shrugged, thinking off-handedly how easy he was to talk to. “If I meet the right person, I suppose. I do want to be married and have a family someday, but with my business catching fire like this, I don’t see myself having the time to develop the kind of relationship I want.”
“And what kind would that be?”
I sighed dreamily, gazing up at the cherub-painted ceiling. “A romantic friendship.”
He raised an inquisitive brow.
“Well, the romance is important,” I explained. “Fawning over one another, doing sweet little things for each other, making love, all of that is important. But it’s not everything. If I get married, I want it to feel like I’m marrying my best friend. I want a partner who will root for my success, whose success I can also root for. I want to experience life alongside another person. My parents were like that.”
“Not any longer?”
I shook my head. “My father passed a few years ago. They were thirty-eight and forty-five when they had me. He lived a good long life and it wasn’t really a tragedy, but…” I shrugged, swallowing against the lump that had risen in my throat. “Now my mom doesn’t have her best friend anymore. It’s really heartbreaking sometimes.”
“Wouldn’t it be better, then, to have several close friends outside of one’s marriage?”
“I don’t see why a person couldn’t have both. I feel like a person’s spouse should be as important as their siblings and parents and friends combined. Not to take on the burden of those relationships of course. A healthy relationship, in my limited experience, requires both the anchor of a loving partnership and the ballasts of friends and family.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “You have a plan. I like that. Now how are you going to go about making it a reality?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if I ever will. My business is my baby right now. It consumes my life. Well, it and taking care of my mother. She needs more from me these days. I haven’t had time to date, and that doesn’t look like it’s going to change any time soon.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and I thought he really was.
“Are your parents still around?” I asked.
“In a manner of speaking. They’re both alive, but they moved to New York after they retired. My mother grew up there and never lost her taste for it. She moved here to marry my father, but I remember her pining for the U.S. even when I was a child.”
“It must get lonesome, living so far away from your family.”
His crystal eyes clouded over slightly. “I avoid thinking about it whenever possible. As you said, my work is my baby. Difficult to feel lonely when there’s something to do, isn’t it?”
I smiled sadly. “Most of the time it is. Until you come home after a long, hard day and have to make your own cocoa and run your own bath.”
“Or just fall into bed instead because it feels pointless to care for yourself when no one is paying attention.”
“Yes,” I said, touching his hand sympathetically. “You understand. The loneliness lurks in the periphery, waiting to jump out as soon as you aren’t distracted by something.” I realized I had my hand on his. What am I doing? I moved it to pick up a cracker.
“It makes me miss living at home with my mom,” I admitted. “She’s a blunt, rough-edged kind of person, but she loves me fiercely. When I first started designing and was spending eighteen, twenty hours a day on low-paying projects, she would go out of her way to make sure that I had all of the things I needed to relax and recharge for the next day. I miss having a person.”
“Is it something you want?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. I mean, it would start with a person, but I want more than that. I would love to have a family of my own, and babies, and—but it’s about priorities, isn’t it? My priority is my work. If something happens to change that I won’t necessarily block it, but I can’t afford to go searching for it right now.”
“Well, you’re young,” he said encouragingly. “There will be time.”
I smiled at him, then shook my head. “I won’t have kids as late in the game as my mom did. The way I see it, I have about three years to find a person, get married, and have a baby. Seems like a lot to ask for, doesn’t it?” I tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out hollow and cold. I bit my lip and looked away.
Mercifully, he changed the subject.
“I must ask you, Grace, why are you working so hard on this? You were promised more decorators, weren’t you? And to expect any person to get a project of this size done in less than three weeks seems insane. Are you personally indebted to her?”
I shook my head. “Not personally. Not even professionally. Not yet, anyway. But I haven’t let a client down yet, and I don’t intend to start now. Especially her. There’s something about her…some kind of power.”
“Are you afraid of her?”
He asked it nonchalantly, but there was an intensity in his eyes which startled me.
“I wouldn’t say that I’m afraid, exactly. More…in awe.”
“You know she’s only human.”
“Are you sure?” I was only half-joking.
He flashed me that disarming grin. “What else would she be? You shouldn’t let yourself be intimidated by her, Grace. You are clearly more talented than she is.”
“At interior decorating, sure,” I said dismissively. “But she’s an accomplished socialite, and that’s something I could never be.”
“Oh come now, you’re social enough.”
“How do you know how social I am?” I grinned, softening my defensiveness into a tease.
“In my experience, beautiful people move easily through society.”
He said it so off-handedly, as though he were talking about the weather, that I almost missed the compliment. It wasn’t until he flicked those deep blue eyes up at me from across the counter that I felt color trickle into my cheeks. I broke the gaze, awkwardly glancing around the room to find something else to look at.
My eyes landed on the clock above the stove. “Oh my gosh, is it really that late? I’m so sorry to keep you here this long. I really should check into the hotel. I hope they haven’t given my room away already. Here—” I fished the key out of my pocket and slid it across the table to him. “Lock up when you leave, will you? And just tuck the key under the statue by the door, please. I’m sorry to take off like this, but I really do need to go.”
“No worries at all,” he said. “Be safe. It’s dreadful out there.”
Chapter 7
Grace
Dreadful didn’t begin to describe it. It had taken me nearly twenty minutes of slipping, sliding misery to work my way down the long drive to the parkway below. Snow was still falling thickly, obscuring the few cars that were still on the road. I squinted, searching in vain for a cab.
Shivering, teeth chattering, I waved a hand to flag down any cab I might have missed. It was a pointless endeavor. The driver who had brought me had apparently been one of the last and bravest cabbies out working in this weather, and all I got from my trouble were a couple of blaring horns.
I certainly couldn’t walk to the hotel. Even if I could find it, I would freeze before I got there. The cold pinched my nose until tears froze on my lashes, and my arms were growing heavy pulling the suitcases.
Finally admitting defeat, I began the long trudge back up to the mansion. I managed to keep my feet for the most part, only falling twice into snowbanks and once into a
thickly concealed bush, which was decent considering how much luggage I was dragging with me.
I really should have stopped at the hotel first, I thought as I walked. Amelia was just so insistent about me coming out here immediately. Note to self: be firmer with clients about my human limitations henceforth. I knew I wouldn’t, but it felt validating to make the note regardless.
As I reached the door, I realized helplessly that my fingers were far too numb and clumsy to work the key. Banking on the off-chance that Dan had forgotten to lock the door, I tried the handle. To my personal relief and professional chagrin, the door opened easily.
I’ll thank and admonish him later, I thought.
Shivering furiously, I shook the snow off of myself and immediately stripped out of my wet over-things, leaving them in a temporary pile at my feet. I was halfway through taking off my second sock, intending to get out of my wet coveralls next, when Dan turned the corner.
“No cabs?” he asked a little too innocently.
“Not a one,” I said through chattering teeth. “Excuse me.”
The surprise of seeing him there delighted and flustered me at the same time. I picked up one of my bags and tip-toed around icy puddles to the powder room. Once inside, I got the last of my snow-packed clothes off my body and onto the floor.
As I stood there naked, unzipping my bag, he knocked on the door.
“Incredible timing,” I muttered. “Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
“Fine, just freezing. Pretty sure I left my feet out there in the snow.”
“I’ll build a fire,” he said with a little chuckle.
“Should you do that?”
I didn’t know how Amelia would react to us using her house like that. I would hope that she would understand that it was an emergency, but I wasn’t sure she knew the meaning of the word. Dan didn’t answer.
“Proactive to a fault,” I said, sighing, returning my attention to the task at hand. “Oh, fantastic. That’s great for my professional appearance.”
In my rush, I had grabbed my night bag. I had a choice between a silky blue nightgown or fuzzy pink pajamas with little yellow ducks on them. I shrugged. At least the ducks would be warm. Dan might never take me seriously again, but it was a risk I was willing to take.
“Well I’m certainly not putting those wet things back on,” I said firmly. “He’ll just have to look past the ducks.”
I emerged a moment later, fuzzy from shoulder to heel, and then I took the time to hang my wet things in the bathroom and wipe the puddles up with a rag from a box of supplies. Once that was finished, I followed the scent of fresh kindling into the living room. Dan was on one knee poking at the fire and turned to give me a warm smile as I entered.
“That looks lovely,” I sighed.
“It feels even better. Come closer, thaw those poor hands.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as they flicked over my pajamas.
I tossed my hair nonchalantly and strode over to the fire.
“Oh, that’s glorious,” I sighed. “Good call.”
The contrast of the blazing heat against my ice-cold skin made me shiver more fiercely than before, and a heart-melting look of concern touched his face.
“Are you cold still? Stay there a moment—I’ll find something.”
“Oh, don’t—” I was going to tell him not to raid Amelia’s house for blankets, but he just waved me off and kept walking out of the room. Since the downstairs furniture had already been moved out, I was glad that we hadn’t gotten around to pulling the tacky carpet up in this room yet. It was a terrible color and pattern, but it was thick and soft and retained heat from the fire.
I scooted as close to the fire as I could bear and buried my fingers into a pair of orange zig-zags in the carpet. Dan was gone for so long that I began to wonder if he had changed his mind and gone home. I was just beginning to plan how I could make a functional blanket out of a drop cloth when I heard his feet on the rich wood floor outside the living room.
“Here we are,” he said from behind a huge stack of blankets. “She won’t miss them. I took them from Mr. Harris’ room, and we’ll have them back before she arrives.”
“I’m too cold and tired to argue,” I said with a sigh. “But remind me tomorrow to hold a team meeting about appropriate conduct in the client’s house.”
If it was possible for a person to chuckle arrogantly, Dan managed to do it. I narrowed my eyes at him and he winked at me, which made me smile in spite of myself.
“We’ll have a secondary meeting about why it’s a sin to charm your boss,” I said, catching the blanket he tossed at me.
“Oh? Are you charmed?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s jet lag. I haven’t decided.”
“I wouldn’t think the two could be confused, myself.”
“Have you ever had jet lag? It does some weird things to your brain.”
He had been arranging blankets around us as we spoke, setting a few folded ones around for cushions and opening the remaining few over us. I snuggled into the nest, recognizing that in doing so I was utterly discrediting everything I had just said about propriety.
“I’ve had jet lag, and I’ve been charmed,” he said. “Frankly, I prefer the former.” A shadow crossed his eyes as he said this, but it passed so quickly I wondered if I had imagined it. He smiled at me and changed the subject before I could ask why. “What on earth possessed you to bring ducky pajamas to a job site?”
I chuckled sleepily and shuffled my body closer to his. For warmth, of course.
“I didn’t mean to. I was going to stop at my hotel and check in before I came out here, but Amelia insisted that I come and get started right away.”
“You flew in today?”
I nodded, barely able to keep my eyes open. My head was heavy, and the blanket cushion wasn’t doing a very good imitation of a pillow. Dan must have noticed my discomfort, because he slid his arm beneath my neck.
“Try that,” he said softly.
“Much better,” I murmured. “Keep talking so I don’t fall asleep.”
“Once upon a time,” he murmured. “High in a castle up in the clouds, far away from any town, lived a fairy princess.”
“Traitor,” I said through a yawn.
He chuckled warmly as I slid off to sleep.
Chapter 8
Grace
Early the next morning, I awoke in his arms. I blinked sleepily at the dead fire, floating in a haze of contentment and peace, forgetting for a moment where and who I was. The nest of blankets was soft and warm, and his steady, even breath kept time with mine. No bed had ever given me a better night’s sleep. Too bad that Amelia could be here any minute.
My eyes widened suddenly. She could be here any minute!
“Dan, wake up,” I said gently.
He didn’t respond, didn’t move an inch. I sat up and threw the blankets off of him, then took him by his broad shoulders and shook him. Snuffling in surprise, he opened his bleary eyes.
“What? Sorry?”
“Wake up, we have to put these things away. Amelia could be here at any moment.”
“You aren’t expecting her today, are you?” he mumbled sleepily.
“Well no, but it is her house and she didn’t specify an exact day or time, and if we’re caught like this I won’t just be fired, I’ll be destroyed. Do you know what kind of connections that woman has? Get up, get up, please!”
He shook himself awake and smiled indulgently at me. “If you insist. I doubt very much that we’re in any immediate danger.”
“Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t, but I’m not about to gamble my career.”
He shrugged. “Very well. I’ll take these upstairs.”
“Thank you. You still have the key? It has stopped snowing and it looks like there are cars on the road. I really should get to my hotel.”
“Will you be coming back?”
“Of course! I shouldn’t be long at all. Lock up if you leave please.”
He nodded, his eyes twinkling in some amusement. Glancing down, I realized that I was still dressed in the pink and yellow ducky pajamas.
“You’ll be traveling like that?” he asked.
“Maybe I should get dressed first.”
He shot me a grin over his shoulder as he walked away with the pile of blankets. “I wouldn’t,” he said. “You could start a new fashion trend. Bag-lady chic?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed, then went to get changed. I didn’t mind the frantic pace; as I saw it, the next two or three weeks were going to be just as frantic, so it would do me good to get used to it. Besides, sprinting against the clock always gave me a kind of hyper-focused creative energy which I loved. As long as I already had everything planned out, that is.
The road was thick with cabs, to my relief. My hotel, as it turned out, was closer to the mansion than the airport, so it had made sense for Amelia to ask me to go straight to work. Still, I probably could have stopped at the hotel on my way regardless, I thought with a bit of annoyance. I decided it was my fault; I hadn’t taken the time to figure out where my hotel was in relation to everything, so I hadn’t known that I could stop off and check in on my way.
The budding resentment which I had been tentatively nursing against her wilted. The receptionist at the desk greeted me with a friendly, polite smile.
“Hello, I had a reservation for yesterday. Is it still available?”
“Of course, miss,” he answered in a delightful British accent. “Due to the storm, we didn’t cancel anyone’s reservations. With flights and trains backed up, it simply wouldn’t have been fair. We all start today on a clean slate. What’s the name?”
“Grace Baker,” I said gratefully.
He nodded briskly and pulled me up in the system. “Ah, a south-facing room. How lovely! Here is your key. I see your reservation is until Christmas Eve, is that accurate?”
The Baby Scandal Page 4