by Regina Duke
“Three weeks ago, it was aflame with color,” Vicky said. “We missed the fall beauty pageant by twenty-one days.”
“Lucky us.”
“Your sarcasm is showing,” Vicky teased. “We'll ask the groom's family if we can borrow a car for the duration. Or at least get a lift to a rental agency.”
Madlyn relaxed in her chair. “That would make me feel a lot more normal.”
“Me, too,” said Vicky.
Madlyn resolved to enjoy the rest of her waffle. She heard a commotion and looked up. A gray cockatiel fluttered into the room and began flying in circles at ceiling level. Behind it came the most gorgeous male she’d ever laid eyes on. He looked like a movie star. He had dark blond wavy hair that he wore like a surfer. He was dressed in expensive clothes, and her boutique experience allowed her to recognize the pricey labels. The cleft in his chin and his healthy complexion and broad shoulders held her gaze hostage. She couldn’t stop staring.
Fortunately, he didn’t see her right away. But Vicky noticed her stare and turned to see what had captivated Madlyn so totally.
When he spoke, the gorgeous man’s baritone proved the perfect match for his physical perfection. “Pearl, you naughty girl, you come back here right now.”
The upright gentleman at the other table folded his paper and laughed. “She’s too much for you, eh?”
Gorgeous glared at the other man, but he didn’t really look angry. “Sorry. I took her up a piece of toast, and when I opened the door, she made a break for it.”
Vicky and Madlyn chuckled softly.
“Is she yours?” asked Madlyn.
Gorgeous glanced at her, looked away, then did a double take and stood transfixed.
The other man, a bit older and somewhat genteel, turned to respond. “She’s mine, actually. I’m afraid she’s quite unruly at times. Terribly spoiled, you see.”
Pearl squawked and found purchase on the rim of the doorframe. “Naughty bird!”
“Oh! She talks.” Madlyn was delighted. “Pretty bird.”
Pearl squawked and seemed to reply, “Don’t bore me to death.”
Vicky and Madlyn laughed. Madlyn noticed that the handsome creature she’d been admiring seemed to be staring at her now. She glanced down at herself, touched her hair, and wondered if she had whipped cream on her nose. She felt suddenly bashful.
Gorgeous spoke to her. “Hello.”
His tone of voice and the direction of his gaze made the other man turn and look as well. His eyes sparkled and he turned away, but not before the girls saw him smile.
Madlyn tried to say hi, but her vocal cords froze.
Vicky smiled. “Hello, how are you? I’m Vicky Darby, and this is my friend Madlyn Lake. We’re here for Maria’s wedding.”
The gorgeous man’s eyes never left Madlyn. “I’m Kirby,” he said. “You’ll be here for the week? At the B&B?”
Madlyn nodded shyly.
Vicky took charge. “I’m supposed to go to a luncheon at the Manse, but we have no car. Do you know if they’re sending someone to pick up the B&B crowd?”
Kirby’s sea-gray eyes lit up. “I could take you up. We have a car. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Brewster?”
Brewster stood up with great dignity. “I suppose it could be arranged.” He held a piece of scrambled egg in his hand and held it out. “Pearl? Breakfast.”
Pearl squawked and launched herself from the top of the door. She flew in a circle around the edges of the room, heading for the scrambled egg, and as she went, she made the sort of deposit that birds are known for. It landed on the front of Madlyn’s pale green blouse.
CHAPTER FIVE
Madlyn squeaked with surprise and stood up abruptly as if she could back away from the gooey splotch.
“Oh, dear,” muttered Brewster. Pearl landed on his hand, and he gently clasped her feet between thumb and finger. She seemed oblivious to the chaos she’d created as she picked daintily at her scrambled egg.
Kirby was mortified. “I'm so sorry!” He grabbed a napkin. “Let me help.” At the last moment, he realized he couldn't touch the soiled spot without getting fresh with the target.
Madlyn took the napkin from his hand. “No worries. I'll go get cleaned up.” She dabbed carefully at the splotch. She thought of a hundred snarky comments about birds, but the proximity of Gorgeous George — Kirby, she corrected herself — kept her from letting fly with verbal revenge. Instead she turned to Vicky. “I think this is a bad omen. You go have fun with the bridesmaids, and I'll entertain myself here.”
“Are you sure?” Vicky's brows drew together. “It won't be as much fun without you.”
“Don't worry. I'm still worn out from our whirlwind travel day. I'll stay here and read. It's fine.” She turned away when she felt her eyes stinging with tears of embarrassment. She didn't want Kirby to see her all weepy eyed. Moving as gracefully as she could with one hand pulling her soiled blouse away from her body, she left.
Once back in the room, she busied herself with trying to save the blouse. She laid it in the bathroom sink, then picked a pale yellow mock turtleneck to wear in its stead. After several minutes of fussing over and rinsing out the white splotch, she sighed heavily and hung the result up to dry.
She stepped back and examined her handiwork. “Well, you'll either be wearable or you won’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “I guess I can replace you. But I love your bias hem and your perfect green color.” She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her features had settled into a pout. “Not very mature, Madz. It's just a blouse.”
She left the garment hanging in the bathroom and stood staring out the windows at the south end of the room. The green grass and spindly gray tree trunks didn't even do her the favor of staring back. The mist was lifting and the promise of weak sunshine perked up her spirits a bit.
“I bet the sun is shining in L.A.,” she said bitterly. She picked up her smartphone and tried to open the weather app. No luck. Zero bars. Nothing. It was a strange feeling. She used her phone for everything. Didn't people in Pawling use twenty-first century technology? She sighed like a martyr and turned on the TV. The weather channel verified her suspicions.
“Yep, I was right. Sunny and seventy-two degrees. John the Cad is tooling around in a fully loaded police car on the bright, sunny streets of L.A., and I'm in Pawling with dead leaves and morning fog and no cell phone towers. What does it all mean, Madz?”
She felt doubt crowding out her firm decision to let John go without her. But no. She’d done the right thing. She knew in her heart that if she'd gone to L.A., there would be no marriage in her future. Why should John marry her if he could have her playing the part of his wife with no strings attached? And the question that really hurt was why would he disrespect her by asking her to do such a thing? She was better off without him.
But there was still a huge hole in her life where John used to be, and no amount of overtime at the boutique had been able to fill it. She turned off the TV and tossed the remote on her bed, wishing she had a car and a map. She felt trapped with no wheels. Maybe she should go with Vicky after all. Maybe there was still time. It would be better than moping around in their room and second guessing her decision about John. She'd left her jacket in the dining room anyway. She stuffed her phone in her purse and headed out the door.
Kirby was pacing slowly on the stone patio between her room and the dining room porch. He stopped when he saw her, and his expression turned hopeful. “Hello again,” he said. “I feel so awful about your blouse. It was very attractive. Before Pearl dive-bombed you.”
Madlyn pulled her purse into her arms. He was so good-looking, she couldn't stop staring. She could picture that hair, that chin, that cleft, on a Colorado ski slope, or maybe on one of the magnificent horses at the Rocking Eagle Ranch. With those shoulders, he might be a professional athlete. After several seconds, she realized she hadn't returned his greeting.
“Birds aren't my favorite,” she blurted, and immediately regretted it
. “Sorry. I'm a little flustered. I always get this way after cleaning guano off my clothes.” She pressed her lips together in a thin line to keep from saying anything else negative about birds.
“I do apologize. If it helps at all, I can tell you she’s ruined three of my shirts and sent two jackets to the dry cleaners.” He raised his brows. “I'd be happy to pay for a new blouse.”
Madlyn was impressed, then appalled. “Are you telling me the blouse is ruined?”
Kirby nodded reluctantly. “Very possibly. Jeez, I'm standing here talking, and you must be freezing.”
“I left my jacket in the dining room.”
“I know. I put it in my car.” He strode over to a dark gray BMW sedan, opened the driver's door, and retrieved her jacket. “Brewster and Vicky took a shuttle up to the Manse. Evidently, the girls in the wedding party are having some kind of meet-and-greet before their luncheon.”
Madlyn let him help her into her jacket. She zipped the front, then renewed her embrace on her purse. She flailed mentally to find a question that did not revolve around that stinking little bird. “Do you work for him? For Brewster?”
Kirby blinked at her. His mouth opened, then closed.
Madlyn filled in the silence. “I know a lot of rich people back in Colorado. There's sort of a billionaire invasion going on in Eagle's Toe. Some of them are swell, but some are a pain, and I can't imagine working for one of those.”
“Oh,” said Kirby, noncommittally. “Actually, Brewster is not a pain at all.” He smiled tentatively.
“Good. Are you his driver? His valet? Vicky's husband has a valet who doubles as a butler.” She put on her best Downton Abbey voice. “Alistair.”
“Really? How nice.” Kirby rubbed the back of his neck.
Madlyn was filled with a sudden horrible thought. “Oh, gosh, you're rich, aren't you? I didn't mean to offend.”
“No, no, no,” Kirby hastened to reassure her. “I'm not rich.” Yet, he added silently. And maybe never. “I take it you've had some unpleasant run-ins with the wealthy crowd back home?”
Madlyn shrugged. “Things are changing because of them. It's my hometown, and all that money moving in, it's having an effect. Not always a good one.”
Kirby looked relieved. “No problem here.” He spread his hands. “I am definitely not rich. I do get to drive this lovely BMW, though. I was hoping you'd let me drive you around a bit. Show you the sights?”
The idea of spending time with such a magnificent male specimen lifted the gloom from Madlyn's heart. “That would be lovely.”
A moment later, they were in the BMW. Madlyn was grateful for her occasional rides in Vicky and Jason's Rolls. She was able to take in the luxurious interior without any overt expressions of envy or amazement. She buckled her seat belt, nodded simply, and said, “Nice.”
Kirby pressed a finger on the start button. “Thanks.” A second later, he added, “I'll tell Brewster you liked it. Now where to? Straight up to the Manse?”
Madlyn made a face. “Is that the name of the place?”
Kirby suppressed a smile. “The family that owns the house has always called it that. It's really big and sprawling.”
“Oh, it's short for Mansion? I get it.” She held up a pinky finger. “La-de-da.”
Kirby laughed. “Exactly.” He pulled onto the narrow road that ran in front of the bed and breakfast. “Is this your first trip to Pawling?”
“First trip out of Colorado, actually.”
“You're kidding.”
“Nope. And so far, I'm not impressed.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I'm used to wide open spaces and lots of sunshine.”
“Don't worry, the sun does shine here. Especially up on Quaker Hill. That's where the Manse is. We just happen to be in a little backwoods part of the area here. Charming, though, don't you think?”
Now that Madlyn could actually see something of her surroundings, she had to admit that Kirby was right. The place did have a lot of charm. “Some of these houses look really old. I mean, they're pretty and all, but they feel old.”
“Some of them are. People have been living here since before the Revolution, and George Washington and his troops fought battles near here.”
Madlyn's eyes grew big. “I didn't realize that. What's that huge brick complex up there? Is that a playing field?”
“Very posh private school,” said Kirby. “The wealthiest families in the world send their boys here to study.”
Madlyn fought a wave of dizziness. “Gosh, these roads are so narrow and curvy. I'd better look straight ahead while we're driving.”
“What do you do, Madlyn?”
“I manage Mina's Boutique in Eagle's Toe. I love working retail. Mina's trying to expand, but she needs funding to purchase her building. She's a nervous wreck about it. I never would have left her but Vicky needed me. Oh, can we stop at Dunkin' Donuts? I love their coffee.”
“Glad to oblige.” Kirby pulled into the small parking lot. “Let's go in. The drive-through is six cars long.”
Inside, Madlyn inhaled deeply. “It smells heavenly! Look at those crullers. Vicky says calories don't count on vacation.”
Kirby laughed. “I agree. Vicky seems like a very nice person.”
“She's awesome. We've been BFFs for years. At least we were. Then she married money, and now I hardly ever get to spend time with her. That's why I hate rich people.”
CHAPTER SIX
Kirby held his breath and counted to ten. Alarm bells were going off in his mind, but he simply could not tell this lovely creature with the reddest hair he’d ever seen that he was one of the hated class.
Although, technically, he wasn’t. He was the stepson. Ray would inherit the Forbes wealth. Ray had always been the “good” son. He’d stayed close to home, taken exactly the courses in college his father had directed him to take, and worked himself into a premature paunch and some early gray hair.
Not that he was bad looking. Ray was blessed with good genetic material. He just didn’t quite know what to do with it. And he was shorter.
But in Spain, where Ray had met Maria, shorter men were the norm. Maria had obviously spotted him as a diamond in the rough, so to speak. She’d probably sized him up and imagined what he’d look like with ten pounds whittled off his middle, then checked his bona fides and figured out he would make a good financial match for her own family fortune.
Kirby certainly had no beef with Maria for being practical. After all, she had to keep both the European and the American branches of the family happy. And she was stunningly beautiful. In any other situation, Kirby would have envied his brother.
In fact, as the younger stepbrother, Kirby had spent many years watching Ray receive all the attention. That was enough to generate envy in a saint. But thanks to his mother’s uncle, Kirby didn’t really care that Ray would inherit his father’s fortune. Even less so now that he knew that Madlyn was not fond of the wealthy class.
Still, he knew he should be honest with her. After all, he was technically a heartbeat away from big money. But with any luck, he’d be the poorest in the family for quite some time. Surely Madlyn wouldn’t hold that against him. Would she?
Madlyn was looking at him like he’d sprouted horns. The clerk was staring at him, too.
“Did I miss something?” he asked.
“I thought maybe you suddenly went deaf. Would you like a cruller?”
“Most definitely. And could you put it in a cup, please? I want to top it off with soft ice cream.”
Madlyn said, “Make that two. Let’s pretend it’s lunchtime. And let’s pretend we didn’t eat breakfast. But promise you won't tell anyone I’m pigging out.”
Kirby nodded eagerly. “Pinky swear.” He held up a crooked pinky.
Madlyn laughed and hooked it with her own. “Our secret.”
They took their coffees and their crullers and soft serve to a table in the corner. Most of the customers were at the drive-through, so it was fairly quiet at their little tabl
e.
“This is so decadent,” said Madlyn. She made sensual noises over her ice cream.
Kirby’s cell phone played “Bat Out of Hell.” He clenched his jaw and refused the call.
“You get service here? I don’t get anything.”
“Not in Pawling, you don’t. They don’t want cell towers. You might get reception here, though.”
Madlyn shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. No reason to check.” She plunged her plastic spoon savagely into her ice cream.
“I hope you’re not fighting with a boyfriend,” said Kirby, dreading the answer.
Madlyn sighed heavily. “No. Not anymore. He left three months ago.”
“What an idiot.” It just slipped out, he was so relieved.
Madlyn looked up, delight in her eyes. “Thank you.”
Kirby smiled.
They stared into each other’s eyes for several seconds. At last, Madlyn looked away and said softly, “You probably have lots to do if you and Brewster have to attend this wedding.”
“Today is all about the ladies. Don’t worry. I’d rather be here with you. Say, you work in retail. Would you like to see the Danbury Fair Mall? It’s rather well known.”
Madlyn nodded eagerly. “That would be great. You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Brewster won’t get mad?”
Kirby shook his head. “He’s busy visiting his friends at the Manse.”
“Let’s go, then.”
Kirby’s phone rang again. He refused the call again.
Madlyn tilted her head to one side. “Why not just turn it off?”
“Brewster may need to reach me.”
“Oh. So ‘Bat Out of Hell’ isn’t Brewster.”
Kirby laughed and held the car door open for Madlyn. “Hardly. No. There’s a woman who thinks she owns me.” He closed the door gently, then went around and got in.
Madlyn cleared her throat. “Forgive me for asking, but I need to know before we go any further. Are you married?”
Kirby shook his head. “Not at all. I’m not even engaged. I’m footloose and fancy free, as they say. Although,” he said softly, “I must confess to a weakness for red hair.”