by Ginny Baird
Brent studied Jackie’s outfit, noticing for the first time she wasn’t wearing her usual spiky heels. “I know you packed light,” he said. “Any chance you remembered your running shoes?”
“Sure. I always—” She hesitated. “Why?”
He gave her a hopeful smile. “Well…I thought we’d go for a run tomorrow morning.”
She blanched, which was not the reaction he expected. Jackie loved running and was freakishly obsessed with maintaining her daily exercise routine. So much so that she didn’t understand why he didn’t pop out of bed ready to run a marathon every morning. But in an effort to show he’d make a good life partner, he’d decided to give it a try.
“Oh, you know what? That sounds really, really good, but— Aren’t you going sailing?” She looked a little panicked.
“Not until Tuesday.” He eyed her. “The day of your tea party? Remember?”
She slowly sipped her lemonade but said nothing. He knew she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of high tea and croquet—a “suggestion” Grandmother had made that he suspected Jackie agreed to out of fear. If he’d had his way, she would have been out on the boat with him.
“In any case,” he continued, “Mom always makes breakfast around nine. Simple stuff like muffins, yogurts, and fruits… I thought if we head out at six—”
“Six?” Jackie gasped. “In the a.m., you mean?”
“Yes. It’s beautiful here in the mornings.”
“I’m sure it is. But…isn’t that a little early?”
Not based on the schedule she usually kept, but she did seem tired. The drive and the Martin wedding must have taken a lot out of her. “How about we start at six thirty and only do half the usual run? An easy two-and-a-half mile jog sounds pretty good to me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
He didn’t know if he should laugh or be disappointed at her shocked expression. “Why are you so surprised? I know at least that much about you. If you don’t work out every morning before breakfast, you’re ‘impossible’ the rest of the day.”
When she stared at him, he added, “Your words, not mine.”
“Yup.”
“So then…let’s do this. Together.”
“Together, right,” she said, swallowing hard.
He frowned and watched her drain her glass of lemonade. She was completely out of sorts. He’d have to think of a good route that might cheer her up while also showing his willingness to be the partner she’d wanted, romantic or not.
“Would you like more lemonade?” he asked.
“Nope. No, thank you,” she said, still seemingly uncomfortable.
Maybe she was still getting acclimated. New place, new faces. Maybe a tour of the house would help. He took her glass and deposited it with his in the sink.
“Let me show you around.”
…
Hope followed Brent through the foyer to the living room on the other side of the front hall. Like the kitchen, it, too, had a bay window overlooking the front lawn. A gorgeous baby grand piano was situated beside it.
How had she gotten roped into running two and a half miles at six thirty in the morning? By the guy who can’t tell one twin from the other, but weirdly recalls one of them’s obsessive exercise routine? It was just her luck that Brent had latched on to this detail.
Unlike her sister, Hope got her exercise through meditation. On her futon, while holding a nice cup of tea or something, and streaming 1990s sitcoms on her laptop.
Brent slid open a set of paneled doors dividing the living room from the library, which contained more loaded bookshelves. This room had apparently once had dark-paneled walls, which were now painted a creamy white like the rest of the house inside. Large windows afforded views of the bay, and others looked out on the side yard, which included a boxed-in herb garden.
She surveyed the rows and rows of books, knowing she could get lost in here for days. There was a selection of nonfiction topics, from sailing to marine life and gardening…to history, geography, and travel. There was also a fab collection of fiction. Her gaze lingered on the romance novels, and she couldn’t help but wonder who read them. The Albrights all seemed so literary. “This is a fabulous room.”
“Yeah, perfect for those of us who know how to enjoy some down time.” Brent’s eyes danced, and she guessed that he was teasing her, because Jackie almost never took time off.
“I enjoy my downtime,” Hope protested on her sister’s behalf. “I have lots of hobbies.”
He set his chin. “Name one.”
“I…um, enjoy photography.”
“Uploading photos from your weddings to Instagram hardly counts.”
“Says who?”
He surprised her by taking both her hands in his.
“I know you work hard,” he said. “Extra hard on everything.”
She stiffened automatically, then willed herself to assume a relaxed pose.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a perfectionist,” she answered, trying to ignore the fact that Brent’s grasp was steady and strong. Warm and affectionate.
And, oh nooo.
He made her heart pound.
“On the job? Maybe not. But at home? I’m hoping you’ll learn to unwind a little.” He stared into her eyes, and these really sexy crinkles formed around his, making him look so, so attractive. “That’s what we talked about. This marriage being good for both of us. No sense waiting until Saturday for the perks to begin.”
Her panic spiked as Brent drew nearer. He really was an okay guy. A great guy, who cared about his bride-to-be and put her happiness first. But that bride-to-be wasn’t Hope. It was Jackie.
She jerked back, breaking out of his hold.
His brow creased. “Is there something—”
“PDA,” she spouted. “Not here. Not now.” She dropped her voice in a whisper. “Anyone could come in at any minute.”
He laughed and raked a hand through his hair. “True.” He gave her a devilish grin. “Maybe I’ll sneak out to the carriage house later.”
“No, don’t.”
Brent cocked his head.
“I mean, with so much going on and our wedding day being just a week away, don’t you think it would be good to wait until the wedding night?”
His dark eyes sparkled. “I’ve always known you were an old-fashioned girl; I just didn’t know how old-fashioned.”
“Ha. Yep.” Hope grinned tightly, her face burning hot. She was desperate to change the subject. Thankfully, her gaze landed on a set of oars mounted over the hearth.
“Those belonged to Grandpa Chad in college,” Brent said, following her gaze. “He was on the crew team.”
“Oh?”
Brent appeared puzzled. “You don’t remember me telling you about that, either?”
Hope bit her lip. It was so easy to trip up with this subterfuge; it was like there were snares laid at every turn.
“We won the championship that year,” an older gentleman boasted, ambling into the room through the side door that led to the den.
The gray-haired man wore a vest under a suit coat with a tie, even though it was mid-June, and expertly tailored slacks. He extended a hand. “So nice to see you again,” he said, giving her hand a warm squeeze.
“You too, Mr. Albright.”
“Now, please.” He shot her a generous smile. “Chad will do. Or, better yet…” He paused in thought. “Why don’t we try Grandpa?”
“Oh, how sweet.” Hope released his hand, touched. “Of course.”
“You’ll be my granddaughter-in-law soon enough,” Chad continued. “Might as well dispense with the formalities.”
She appreciated Brent’s grandfather’s generosity of spirit in welcoming Jackie into the Albright family—she only wished his wife shared it.
“I understand you’
ve met Parker and Elsa?”
“Oh yes. They’re awesome.”
“Margaret’s fairly awesome, too,” Chad said with a knowing grin. Then he leaned forward and whispered, “She’s just good at hiding it.”
Hope giggled, relieved to know that Grandpa Chad was apparently in her corner. Parker and Elsa seemed to be, too. Or, really, in Jackie’s corner.
Even if Grandmother Margaret was positioned against her.
Chad patted his vest pocket as if searching for something. “I think I left my evening cigar in my desk drawer. I best go find it before mealtime.”
When Chad left the room, Brent turned toward her. “What do you say? Would you like the rest of the tour?”
…
Brent took Hope to the second floor, which held four lavish bedrooms with four-poster beds and fireplaces, each with a private bath. He only allowed her a brief peek at what he called the bridal suite before quickly shutting the door.
“Wouldn’t want to spoil your anticipation of the wedding night.”
Hope tried not to think about wedding nights and Brent in the same sentence. She couldn’t wait for Jackie to get here and free her from this awkward predicament.
“Some things are best left to the imagination,” she said lightly. Which was a terrible choice of words, because they only caused her imagination to run wild—and straight into some insane fantasy world where she was the one marrying Brent and not her sister.
“What’s on the third floor?” she managed after a pause.
“Come on. I’ll show you.”
Hope followed him up a back staircase, her knees wobbling. She’d told Jackie she’d avoid being alone with Brent, and she hadn’t done a very good job of it so far. From here on out, things would change. She’d make up excuses about needing to rest before dinner, and then make it a point to only see Brent in a crowd.
She hoped he’d been joking when he’d hinted at sneaking down to the carriage house later. Maybe, as a precaution, she should lock the door.
The third floor contained an area Brent called the playroom toward the front of the house.
There were three bedrooms across the hall, and each had a dormer window facing the bay. The center room had been shared by Brent and William when they were kids. Brent was staying there now, and Hope spied his unpacked suitcase through an open closet door.
She went to the dormer window and peered out at the breathtaking view. Elsa and Margaret were having a conversation near the firepit. Each held a glass of lemonade as Elsa gestured with her free hand. It almost looked like the two women were arguing about something. It couldn’t be easy being Margaret’s daughter-in-law.
“How long have your parents been married?” she asked Brent.
“Thirty-five years. Why?”
“I was just thinking. That’s an awfully long time to be married.”
“I don’t believe it’s felt long to them.” Brent shared a soft smile, and for a moment he looked sentimental, like he admired what his parents had. “They really love each other.”
“Naturally.” Hope gave a self-conscious laugh. “Most married people do.”
“Don’t worry,” he said seriously. “It will come along for us.”
“What, love?” Hope asked, thunderstruck. She couldn’t be hearing this right. She just couldn’t. Jackie had mentioned she and Brent had been slightly estranged lately. Still, they had to have developed deep feelings for each other in spite of that, right? What kind of deal had her sister signed up for? She took a giant step backward. “Wait—wait a minute. Are you saying that you don’t love me?”
Brent raised his hands. “Whoa, Jackie… I’m so, so sorry. Really, I am. I didn’t mean that to come off as—” He stopped talking, his hands falling to his sides. “Hang on. Are you saying…? Are you in love with me?”
Hope stared at him wide-eyed, her brain churning wildly. She knew Brent and Jackie’s engagement had been rushed, but she’d assumed that was because they’d fallen head over heels for each other.
Obviously, she’d been wrong.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, because she honestly didn’t know the answer. “What matters is why we’re doing this in the first place.”
“I thought you wanted to? I mean…” He raked a hand through his hair. “You accepted my proposal.”
Jackie had never shared those details. Why had Brent even bothered to propose if they weren’t in love? What could he possibly have said?
Let’s give this a shot and see if we actually fall for each other someday?
They might have had better odds spinning the roulette wheel in Vegas.
“I’m sure I was overwhelmed,” she said, unable to hide her skepticism.
Brent hung his head. “I could have done things better, I suppose.”
She frowned, not liking where this was going. “Better than what?”
“Writing it on a cocktail napkin.”
Hope’s jaw dropped. “You proposed on a napkin?”
“Oh, right. Like you could forget the huge fight that caused. But that was only initially. We were at that charity event, and you were constantly on your phone. It was the only way I could get your attention.” He paused to study her. “We laughed about it…later?”
“I’m sure it was hilarious.” She snagged a tissue out of the box on the nightstand and dabbed at her suddenly misty eyes.
He studied her, his brow furrowed. “Wait a minute. Are you saying you don’t remember?”
Now she was in it. Time to dig herself out.
“Of course I remember. What girl wouldn’t? It was all so romantic.” She crumpled up the tissue, feeling stupidly sentimental.
She didn’t know what she’d imagined for her sister, but it hadn’t been a will-you-marry-me-on-a-napkin proposal. Jackie deserved better than that.
“You’re right, and I was wrong. So, if you want me to try again…”
Brent squared his broad shoulders, and Hope realized with horror that he was about to get down on one knee. She had to stop him.
“Wait.”
“Wait what?” he asked, looking up.
“This has gone all wrong.”
“Apparently,” Brent said with a frown. His gaze fell on her left hand. “Grandmother Margaret’s ring. You’re not wearing it.”
Uh oh. How hadn’t she thought of that? Jackie would be wearing an engagement ring. The thought that it had come from Grandmother Margaret gave her the shivers.
“Grandmother Margaret’s ring,” she said stoically. “That’s just it.”
Brent watched her expectantly as she continued.
“The woman who can’t stand me. So, what kind of great wedding juju does that bring?”
“It’s a family ring,” he said on a sigh. “Grandmother Margaret never wore it. It was given to her by Grandpa Chad’s mother. That’s an Albright diamond—very special—and the emeralds around it are flawless as well. I’m sure Grandmother never would have given it to me if she honestly didn’t approve—”
“Ah, but you proposed before I met her, didn’t you?”
“Sure, but not with the ring. That came later. You know that.”
“Before or after I met your grandparents?”
Brent narrowed his gaze. “Want to tell me exactly what’s going on here? Because if you’re getting cold—” He stopped short, and the blood drained from his face. “Don’t tell me that you’ve lost it. It’s a family heirloom.”
“I haven’t lost a thing.” Hope self-consciously rubbed her ring finger. “I’m just…having it sized.” There. A perfectly logical explanation. Really, she ought to be commended.
“Sized? But I thought it fit perfectly?”
Ack. “When my hands get soapy, it slips off,” she improvised. “I didn’t want to take the risk of misplacing it. Or, or…having it go down the drain
.”
“I wish you’d said something sooner. I know a very good jeweler in Boston. He could have rushed the refitting.”
She was painting herself into a corner. She had to find a way out of this, and fast. “I’ll have it back really soon. Maybe even sooner than I think. If it’s ready in time, Meredith will bring it up when she comes.” Better yet, Jackie would be here on Tuesday wearing that ring.
Hope was going to have to find a way to contact her and let her know about all the crazy stuff that had been going on. But she needed to extract herself from this conversation first.
“In any case, it’s fine.” She hadn’t meant to, but she’d let her exasperation slip.
“You’re still not happy with the ring, are you?”
“I just feel awkward about it after that thing your grandmother said when I got here.”
“Oh? What thing was that?”
She met his eyes. “Your grandmother said she was surprised to see me. I guess she was amazed I’d made the time.”
Brent sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Does she know?” Hope asked, the thought occurring to her. “That we’re entering into a loveless marriage?”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t break your confidence. Our reasons for getting married are nobody’s business but our own.”
She pursed her lips, dying to know. “And what reasons are those, exactly?”
He eyed her. “We’re both at the right age, compatible. We get along, share good laughs.”
“That sounds like the makings of a friendship, not a marriage.”
“The best marriages are based on friendship. You said so yourself.”
“So then, why not wait? What’s the big rush?”
“Well, there’s Grandpa’s business…”
It only took Hope a second to put it together. Brent was taking over Albright Enterprises after his and Jackie’s honeymoon. She knew that he was changing jobs and that this would be a step up. She’d never guessed that this hurried wedding had anything to do with his career bump.
But, apparently, it did.
He met her gaze. “Look, we’ve already been through this. If you’ve changed your mind, please just tell me. All these questions are kind of freaking me out.”