by Regina Duke
Bart frowned. “I said I’d found a fiancée. What? Was she here?”
Woodsy looked miserable. “She stopped by to speak to you, and I may have remarked on how happy I was that…that you’d found someone…to play your bride.”
“What?!” Bart felt his blood pressure shoot through the roof. “Where did she go?”
Woodsy flinched. “She sort of ran outside to her limousine and drove off.”
Bart looked up and down the street. The limo was nowhere to be seen. Long gone. He whirled on Woodsy and seized her upper arms. “Word for word,” he said through clenched teeth, “what did you say?”
Woodsy paled, but reported, “I hope he’s paying you extremely well for playing his wife.”
Bart let her go and balled his fists to keep from strangling her. “I can’t believe I was thinking about helping you! Get out of my sight!” He pulled out his phone and left the building, using both thumbs on his phone. He had to reach the chauffeur before it was too late.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Zinnia clutched Rose’s hand and tried to hold herself together. “We’re going back to Eagle’s Toe,” she said. “I’ll pay your mother back somehow.” She pulled the diamond ring off her finger. “Maybe I’ll pawn this.”
Rose’s features were twisted in disbelief. “What happened? You were over the moon just a few minutes ago. Are you having a breakdown?” She pinned Zinnia with a knowing stare.
“No. Yes. But not like you’re thinking.” She wiped away a tear and growled, “I will not cry. I refuse!”
“Zin, come on, what’s going on?”
Zinnia sagged against the seat and stared at the ring in her hand. “That woman was there. Woodsy.”
“And…?”
“She told me that Bart had hired me to pretend to be his wife so the gallery owner would let him have the show.” She looked out the window. “I thought he really cared about me.”
Rose spread her hands. “He does. He loves you. Any fool can see that.”
“Then why the lies?” asked Zinnia.
“Did you confront him? Did he tell you Woodsy was right?”
Zinnia shook her head. “I ran straight back to the limo. We’re leaving. It’s better this way.” She composed herself and forced Gone with the Wind into her voice. “The two of us, we’ll be like old spinsters together, gathering dust in a hovel on the edge of the plantation, waiting for the Fates to blow some undeserving Yankee our way some day.”
Rose didn’t play along. “Nice try, but this is a major life event, and you’re not going to Scarlett O’Hara your way through it.” She glanced out the front to check on their progress. They were stopped at a light, and the chauffeur was checking his phone. In the distance she could see an exit ramp under a sign for LaGuardia. She turned back to Zinnia. “I know what you’re feeling, remember? Heck, I’m still feeling it. But I knew my relationship was over. All you have is the word of some ditsy gallery manager. You should really talk to Bart.”
The car was moving again. Zinnia was glum, still clutching her diamond. “Do you think I should keep this?”
Rose assumed her sternest “talk sense” face. “Zin, all through high school I dreamed about falling in love with a rich rancher. I wanted it so bad that when Chester showed up, calling himself a rancher, I worked hard at trying to fall in love. I won’t do that again. You never made that mistake. You fell in love honestly, without pre-planning. In school, you wanted to meet a famous artist and marry him so you would have things in common and you’d never have to worry about money again. And now you’ve met one, and—bonus points!—you fell in love and he asked you to marry him. You said yes with your eyes wide open and you were thrilled to do so. Are you going to let some old woman scare you off? What if she just wants him for herself?”
Zinnia jerked upright. “That’s disgusting! She must be twice his age.”
Rose sat back, satisfied. “My work here is done.” She peered out the front again. “Hey. Hey!” She rapped on the partition, then remembered she could slide it open. “Hey, Mr. Chauffeur, you missed the LaGuardia turn off.”
Without taking his eyes off the road, he raised his voice to respond. “Just following orders, ma’am.”
“Whose orders?”
“Boss’s orders. Mr. Hazen texted me and asked me what’s going on. I told him where to meet us.”
Zinnia leaned forward. “Where might that be?”
“Hospital. Your friend needs that foot looked at.”
Rose gaped at Zinnia. “Need more proof that he wants you here?”
Zinnia shook her head. A moment later, she slipped the engagement ring back on her finger.
* * *
Bart paced outside the emergency entrance, waiting for the limo. When it arrived, he opened the back door and helped Rose into a waiting wheelchair. Then he turned to Zinnia. “What did she say to you?” His tone of voice made it clear what he was referring to.
Zinnia flushed pink. “She said she hoped you were paying me extremely well and I wasn’t pretending to be your wife as a personal favor.”
Bart cursed. “Come on, let’s get Rose’s ankle taken care of.”
When the flurry of questions began at the admissions desk, Bart plopped his credit card on the counter. A few minutes later they were in a curtained-off treatment room, Rose reclining on the examination table with Zinnia and Bart on either side of her.
Bart said, “Zin, I can’t control what other people say to you. But I want you to know that I gave you that ring because I want you in my life. It has nothing to do with this art show of mine. Yes, I want you there—because I was hoping to give you a chance to show off your talent some time during the evening. But you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to. We can shut the whole thing down and fly back to Colorado tomorrow. You’re more important to me than selling a few paintings. And you don’t have to marry me if you don’t want to, but if that’s your choice, we’d better call for a cardiologist…because my heart will be broken.”
Rose said, “Awww, that’s sweet.”
Zinnia said, “You’d drop everything and go back to Colorado, just to be with me?” She moved to the foot of the table, being careful not to jostle Rose’s ankle.
Bart nodded.
“But you’ve worked so hard for this opening.” She rounded the end and moved closer until there were only a few inches between them.
Bart shrugged. “I’ll buy us a gallery somewhere and we can put all our work there.”
“Don’t you need those art magazines to spread your name around?”
“I’ll buy a magazine and dedicate it to the two of us.” He smoothed her cheek with his fingers.
Zinnia pressed her lips against his palm in a kiss. “Woodsy was wrong?”
“Wrong as wrong can be.” He pulled her close.
“We’re still engaged?”
He nodded eagerly.
Zinnia hesitated, then asked, “What about the owners of the gallery? Did they really want you to be married?”
Bart hugged her tight. “What they want isn’t important. What I want is to know that you want to spend your life with me.”
Zinnia murmured against his neck, “Yes, I do. I really do.”
Bart kissed her warmly.
The curtain opened and an efficient-looking woman cleared her throat. “I thought we had a broken ankle in here.”
Zinnia giggled.
Rose sighed. “Isn’t it romantic?”
The next several hours were all about Rose. When Bart finally called for the chauffeur, she was in a walking boot and had a pair of crutches in the crook of her arm as the nurse wheeled her out of the ER.
“Ready to go put your foot up for a while?” he asked.
“More than ready. Although these pain pills are amazing.”
Zinnia clucked at her. “No weight-bearing activities for a couple of days. Ice and elevation,” she recited.
“I know, I know.”
“You may not make the opening.”
Bart said, “Don’t worry. We’ll get her a wheelchair so she can rest whenever she needs to. Besides, you don’t want your best friend to miss out on—” He cut himself off before he could finish.
Zinnia eyed him suspiciously. “Miss out on what?”
Bart put a finger to his lips. “I’ll tell you in the car.”
Once the three of them were ensconced in the limo and the driver was behind the wheel, Zinnia and Rose chorused, “What have you done?”
Bart half shrugged apologetically. “I arranged for both your parents to come for the opening. They arrive tomorrow. Chuck will pick them up.”
“Who’s Chuck?” asked Rose.
Bart was surprised. “Chuck! Our chauffeur.”
Zinnia pinned him with a steely gaze. “I thought you just hired this guy when we got to New York. And now you’re on a first-name basis?”
Bart tried to look innocent. “Okay, fine. He’s my father’s chauffeur, and I asked if I could borrow him.”
Zinnia stared at him, eyes wide. “You said you didn’t get along with your father.”
“I don’t. And you don’t get along with Bernard. One more thing we have in common. Two more things, I guess.”
“Two?” asked Zinnia.
Bart nodded, less than pleased. “My dad’s coming to the opening, as well.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Rose was in pain by the time they reached the hotel suite, and Zinnia was a flurry of attentiveness, parking her crutches and putting a pillow under her injured ankle.
Bart gave Zin a quick kiss. “I have to go handle a few things,” he said. “I need to check with Chuck about the airport pickups tomorrow and make sure he’ll be available for sightseeing for a couple of days. You go ahead and order room service. Rose needs to rest her ankle.”
“Good plan.” She closed the door behind him and returned to her friend. “Is it too soon to give you a pain pill?” she asked.
Rose looked miserable. “It’s never too soon,” she mumbled. “Is there any alcohol in here?”
“Oh yes, that’s what the bar is for, right?” She found what she needed and made Rose a screwdriver. “Here. Use this to swallow your pill.”
“I thought you were going to give me a hard time and tell me I can’t mix drugs and alcohol.”
“Well, considering how it’s too soon for another pill, you might as well have a drink, so I put a healthy shot of vodka in your orange juice.”
Rose almost smiled.
“Oh my gosh,” said Zinnia, “in all the drama, I totally forgot!”
“Forgot what?”
She dug through her purse and pulled out the little blue box with Tiffany on the ribbon. “Open it.”
Rose regarded the box with wary anticipation. “There aren’t any spring-loaded snakes in there, are there?”
Zinnia giggled.
Rose opened the box. It took her a few seconds to realize what the double rings were for. “Oh Zinnia! These are lovely! One for me and one for you?”
“Best friends forever,” said Zinnia.
They put the rings on and compared hands.
“Very nice,” said Rose. “I’d do a happy dance, but it’ll have to wait.”
“The bad news,” said Zinnia, “is that Bart is flying our parents in tomorrow. The good news is that you’ll have lots of people to pamper you and push your wheelchair.”
Rose stared at her for a moment, then she chugged her screwdriver and held out the glass. “Refill please.”
The next two days were challenging. Mr. and Mrs. Stigliano doted on Rose, so Zinnia didn’t have to worry about her friend. However, she found herself floundering around her own parents—around her mother and Bernard, she reminded herself—looking for safe topics of conversation.
Chuck the chauffeur had been given a sightseeing itinerary by Bart, and Zinnia sat on the back seat, sandwiched between her parents, hoping the Stiglianos would carry the ball. For the most part, they did, and Zinnia was grateful. She would have been happier if Bart had been able to go with them. However, he had to spend these last two days before the big opening at the gallery, reassuring the owners that he had cleaned up his act and making sure that Woodsy stuck to the display plan he’d laid out for her. Zinnia missed him terribly.
In the limo, she found herself smiling at her mother until her face hurt. She glanced at Bernard from time to time, but he seemed totally engaged in staring out the car window and listening to Chuck’s rather amusing running commentary about the City.
Lily couldn’t get enough of Zinnia’s engagement ring. Conversation must have been difficult for her as well, because over and over she repeated her praise and admiration for the huge diamond. By their first lunch stop, it had gotten old, though, and their meal was accompanied by the sound of cutlery and clinking plates.
Fortunately, Chuck seemed to understand how exhausting tourism could be, and after a tour of the Statue of Liberty, he took them all back to the hotel and promised to be waiting for them at nine the next morning for another day of sightseeing and shopping.
Rose was worn out and her ankle was throbbing. The next morning, Zinnia offered to stay in with her, because she clearly wasn’t enjoying the group tour. It would make Zin’s life easier, too, because Bernard was ignoring her completely. Their parents seemed fine with their decision and rode off with Chuck in the limo, leaving Rose propped on the sofa in the main room of the suite.
Zinnia had ordered room service for breakfast, over which Rose asked, “Don’t you want to spend the day with Bart?”
“He told me to keep you company today because he might have to flash his fangs at Woodsy, and he didn’t want me to see his nasty side so soon after getting engaged.”
Rose laughed. “Very tricky.”
“Well, it’s sweet that he’s thinking of you,” said Zinnia, “making sure you have company. So I guess we can relax today and not worry about a thing.” But her voice was taut and she knew that Rose saw right through her attempt at appearing carefree.
“Zin, I’m fine. I have pain meds on board. I have the TV remote. After breakfast, why don’t you go to the studio, plug in your ear buds, and spend time with your pastels?”
Zinnia brightened. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. You need to be rested and relaxed for the opening tomorrow night. You don’t have to worry about what to wear. We found you the perfect dress, blue like your eyes. You’ll look fantastic.”
“Okay,” said Zin. “You talked me into it. But breakfast first.”
* * *
Rose’s idea was a life-saver. And she’d apparently alerted Bart to Zinnia’s location because he dropped by the studio late in the afternoon and took her out to dinner.
The rest of the evening was quiet. The girls’ parents had begged off dinner and planned to order something from room service, commenting that tourism was hard work. Bart spent his time with Rose and Zinnia, and he did most of the talking, filling them in on his day of wrangling with Woodsy and reassuring Zinnia that she could play it by ear when it came time for him to introduce her. “You can show off your talent, or you can be my arm candy. Either way, I’ll be happy.”
Zinnia pretended to be irritated by the phrase “arm candy,” but deep down she felt like a great weight had been lifted.
“Besides,” said Bart, “your parents will be there, and you’ll be spending time with them.”
Zinnia made a face. “Thank you for that.”
Bart laughed. “You’ll also run interference between me and Dad. Just charm the heck out of him, okay? If you’re feeling especially mischievous, introduce him to Rose’s mother. I think Mrs. Stigliano can hold her own with anybody.”
Zinnia, however, was thinking of pairing Mr. Hazen Senior off with her … Bernard… just to keep him out of the way.
The next twenty-four hours felt like someone had pushed fast forward on her life. Before she knew it, she was climbing into the limo with Bart and the others, heading for the gallery o
pening. Chuck handled Rose’s wheelchair with grace and style, and Zinnia had made sure Rose had medication on board before they left the hotel.
Woodsy sparkled in a full-length green gown that reminded Zinnia of Mother Nature. Her own pale-blue dress suddenly felt very humble. Just as she was thinking that, Bart leaned close and whispered, “You’re the classiest woman in the whole place.”
Caterers were buzzing about, preparing to pour drinks and serve a colorful variety of snacks. Woodsy clapped her hands for attention. “All right everyone, Mrs. Chen and her group are arriving soon. I’m about to open the front doors. We have a lengthy and varied guest list, so try to sound interesting.”
Lily Clausen laughed nervously. Bernard made a rude sound. Zinnia’s heart sank. She reminded herself that the pressure to perform was off and she still had her BFF at her side to keep her spirits up. All she had to do was get through the evening. She’d hidden her iPod in her small handbag and surreptitiously slipped one ear bud into her ear, so she could let her favorite music calm her nerves. Her false sense of security left her unprepared when Woodsy introduced Mrs. Chen to Mrs. Clausen.
“How do you do?” said Lily politely.
Mrs. Chen smiled and spoke through her translator. “Mrs. Chen is most honored to meet the mother of the wife of the great artist, El Barto.”
It was like watching an automobile accident. She couldn’t look away. Lily’s expression was Zinnia’s first clue to the disaster that would follow. As it all unfolded like a slow motion movie, Zinnia realized she hadn’t warned her parents about the gap between the Chens’ expectations and her reality with Bart.
“Oh no, I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” said Lily, shifting her gaze between the translator and Mrs. Chen. “My daughter isn’t married yet.”
Zinnia couldn’t believe her ears. “Mother! It’s okay, honest.”
“Well, it’s true, and I’m proud of you for waiting. There’s no way you would have gotten married without telling me about it.”
Mrs. Chen made a sound so full of self-satisfaction, it didn’t matter that her following tirade was in Mandarin and not understood by anyone in the room other than her entourage. She stepped forward to stand in front of Bart upon whom she released a string of invective that left tiny flecks of spittle on his tie. Then she screeched something to her people and they stormed out of the gallery, leaving her husband red-faced and uncomfortable to deal with the mayhem in her wake.