by Nika Rhone
“I understand that.” She did. Her father had taught her more about running a successful business in one summer than she’d learned in all her college business courses combined. “But this isn’t the office, and I’m not an acquisition or a spreadsheet. Can’t you make an exception for me? Please?”
“Frank, you’ve always prided yourself on hiring intelligent people with sound enough judgment to make hard decisions when their backs are up against the proverbial wall,” Evelyn said. “Brennan was here and you weren’t, and he made a decision. A good boss would back up his employee, even if that decision wasn’t the one he would have made for himself.”
Her father didn’t look convinced, but he did look like he was thinking.
“Besides”—her mother shot Thea a knowing smirk—“unless I miss my guess, Brennan is going to be spending a lot more time with the family in the future in a non-employee capacity, and I think it might get a little awkward sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner across the table from the son-in-law that you once fired.”
Thea nearly swallowed her tongue. “Mom!”
Her father looked nearly as shell-shocked as she felt. “Son of a—” He shook his head. “Fine. You win. He’s rehired, or unfired, or whatever you want to call it.” Glaring at Doyle, he said, “We’ll be talking about this.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thea stepped back so she was standing next to Doyle instead of in front of him and took his hand. “We’ll be talking about this,” she said, just so both men realized she intended to be a part of whatever conversation they planned to have.
Her father looked like he was going to argue. Instead, he gave a rueful chuckle and asked Doyle, “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
Doyle gave Thea’s hand a gentle squeeze and replied without hesitation, “Yes, sir. I do.”
Thea might have felt insulted if she hadn’t caught the sad, almost resigned look that flashed across her father’s face before he turned toward the house, taking her mother with him. Why would he look sad?
As if reading her mind, Doyle slipped his arm around her as they slowly followed in her parents’ wake. “Try to go easy on him. He just realized that his little girl isn’t his little girl anymore.”
“It’s about time everybody noticed that.” But she felt a small pang of loss herself at that realization. Things were changing. Nothing was ever going to be the same. But as long as she had Doyle by her side, she knew she could face anything.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
Casting a worried glance at Lillian, Thea rushed to Amelia’s side and put a comforting arm around her tense shoulders.
“Just take a deep breath, sweetie. Everything’s going to be fine.” She gently urged her pale and shaking friend onto a small sofa, glad that they had followed her when they’d noticed her slip into the small room the banquet hall had set aside for the hosting families’ use.
Lillian followed, sliding one of the dainty wastebaskets a little closer before she took the chair to the side of the sofa. Just in case.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I just…”
“Got a little overwhelmed?” Although “panicked” might have been a more accurate description.
Tilting her head back, Amelia took a deep breath in through her nose and then let it out in slow increments. “Sorry. I’m okay now. I just needed a second.”
It was a total lie, but Thea wasn’t about to call her out on it. From the second she’d appeared on Charles’s arm at the party, Thea had been watching her, as had Lillian, both doing their best to make sure no one, especially the dragons, gave their friend any grief tonight.
At first, it had appeared that Charles was finally stepping up to the plate, giving Amelia the attention she deserved as his fiancée. He’d kept her anchored to his side the entire time they’d been circulating through the large ballroom, greeting everyone, stopping only to talk to a select few. It was easy to see whom those select few were: the movers and shakers of Washington politics. Family and longtime friends were lucky to get a moment’s attention.
Less easy to see had been the fact that although Charles kept Amelia at his side, he had, for the most part, ignored her. It had taken Thea almost a full hour to come to that realization, in part because Amelia was so good at keeping a composed smile on her face regardless of her actual feelings, and in part because she was enjoying her own time spent with Doyle. For that she felt incredibly guilty.
It was only when she’d compared the two men that she’d realized something was wrong. Doyle was always touching her—a hold on her elbow as they walked, tucking her hand through his arm as they stood talking to people, a light brush of his fingers at her waist when she leaned in to say something private to him.
And always, always, he made her a part of the conversation. Whether they were speaking with one person or five, regardless the topic, he always made certain she was included. If he noticed her eyes glazing over as they discussed the hottest new tech stock, he turned the conversation to something else. If she had an opinion to voice, he listened, even debated if he disagreed, but she was always allowed her say.
Not so with Charles.
Once she started to pay attention, Thea realized that although Amelia was smiling, she wasn’t talking. She’d greet everyone they approached—most likely by name, since her friend had a memory like a steel trap when it came to details like that—and then she’d stand quietly by her idiot fiancé’s side as he chatted away, only speaking again to bid her good-byes.
Never once did Charles try to include her in the conversation. Never once did he touch her except to lead her from one spot to another, like a well-trained puppy, where she then stood patiently yet again until he was ready to move on. Never once did he show through body language that she was anything less than superfluous.
Rather than being half of a couple, Amelia had been reduced to a mere accessory.
Doyle had noticed Thea’s growing agitation and after a few moments of observation, he easily picked up on the source. Rather than warn her against interfering, he kissed her temple and said, “Try not to draw any blood. Too many cameras in the room,” and sent her on her way to rescue her friend.
But Amelia somehow managed to rescue herself, and, like a rabbit seeking the safety of its burrow, ducked into the small withdrawing room, her two friends hot on her heels.
Noting Amelia’s still pale complexion, Thea asked, “Have you eaten anything yet tonight?”
“Um, no. We’ve been too busy greeting guests.”
Grinding her teeth against the angry words that wanted to come out at that, Thea asked instead, “When did you eat last?” Because knowing Mellie, her nervous stomach had kept her appetite at bay for longer than was healthy.
“Um…” From the pinched look on Amelia’s face, Thea knew she was trying to remember. And couldn’t.
“Lil.”
“I’m on it.” With a worried frown, Lillian slipped out of the room in search of food.
“I’m okay,” Amelia said again.
“You’ll be even better after you eat something.”
“Dinner will be served in a little while. I can wait until then.” She cast a furtive glance at the door. “I should be getting back.”
“You can take ten minutes for yourself.”
Amelia shook her head. “Someone will be looking for me.”
It was nothing less than the truth, so Thea walked to the door and turned the lock with a decisive snap, although whether she was ensuring no one could come in or that Amelia wouldn’t leave she wasn’t certain. Probably a little of both. “They’ll just have to wait.”
“You don’t understand.”
Thea went to sit next to her. “I do, sweetie. Really, I do.” She saw the instant that Amelia comprehended that she really did understand what had been going on because tears filled her friend’s moss-green eyes, making them look like shiny e
meralds.
“Oh, T, it’s awful,” she whispered. Her face crumpled, and Thea gathered her into her shoulder as she began to sob quietly. Thea would have preferred great, heaving sobs and big, ugly tears. Crying was supposed to be a release. Holding back and letting only the tiniest of pressure out when it finally got too bad wasn’t healthy. Like so many other things Amelia did.
Had been trained to do.
Mrs. Westlake deserved a good punch in her expensive rhinoplasty.
“I thought you and Charles had smoothed things out about last weekend,” Thea said when Amelia finally sniffled and pulled back. She reached over to the table next to the sofa and grabbed the box of tissues discreetly disguised in a cloisonné box.
“I thought so, too.” Dabbing at her eyes and then her nose, Amelia looked confused. Lost. Thea thought she should have been looking angry. But knowing her friend as well as she did, she knew that Mellie would be looking for some way to blame herself for Charles’s neglectful attitude.
So she was surprised when Amelia said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with him tonight. He’s gone out of his way to be so nice to me all week. He’s come by almost every day for lunch, and he’s called on the days he didn’t. He’s even been sending me more of those little handwritten notes every morning. They were really sweet. Romantic, even.”
“So why is he being such a—” Thea bit off the word that leapt to mind.
“Butthead?” They burst into laughter. Amelia’s amusement faded, though, leaving behind the lost look again. “I don’t know. No. That’s not true. I do know, and I’m not going to pretend anymore. He’s more interested in his career than in marrying me.”
Her chin wobbled for a second before she firmed it, resolve shining in her eyes. “I refuse to become my mother. I’m not going to live my life in his shadow, waiting for some crumb of affection.”
A soft knock interrupted her, and by the time Thea came back from letting in Lillian and her haphazardly piled plate of appetizers, Amelia’s resolve seemed to have fled. She picked at the offerings, but she seemed sunk in her own thoughts. Unhappy ones, judging by the pinched look around her eyes.
“So”—Lillian said to Thea as Amelia shredded her second roll—“you and Doyle looked all cozy and couple-like out there. Looks like my plan worked out just the way I said it would.” Her smug expression froze, and she darted a quick look at Amelia. “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to…”
Amelia waved her apology off and even managed a small smile. “It’s fine. I’d rather talk about someone else’s relationship, anyway. And they did look good together.”
“Well, duh,” Lillian replied, rolling her eyes.
“What did your parents have to say about you two being involved?”
“Not too much, although I’m pretty sure my dad gave Doyle the ‘if you hurt my little girl, you’re a dead man’ speech when I wasn’t around, not that either one of them will ever admit it to me.”
“What about your mom?” Amelia asked.
Thea grinned. “She told my dad he couldn’t fire his future son-in-law without making the holidays weird.”
Amelia looked shocked. Lillian sputtered into laughter.
“How did Doyle react?” she asked.
Surprisingly well. In fact, he’d seemed quite at ease with the implication that they weren’t just dating but heading for something more permanent. Marriage. Kids. The whole domestic package. It was what she’d dreamed of, hoped for, for more years than she cared to admit. Now that she practically had it in the palm of her hand, she found she was just a little wary of believing in it. It would hurt too much if it turned out not to be true.
“Well, he didn’t run away screaming or start to twitch, but we didn’t really get to—” She was cut off by the strident knock on the door. All three friends turned to stare at the door as the knob jiggled furiously before the knocking came again.
“Amelia Ann, open this door. At once!”
The sound of her mother’s voice drained all of the amusement from Amelia’s face. “Guess my reprieve is over,” she sighed, watching with resignation as Lillian went to unlock the door.
Mrs. Westlake sailed in the second the lock snapped open, almost clipping Lillian with the edge of the door. She never noticed, her eyes pinned like lasers on her daughter. “What do you think you’re doing hiding in here while you have a roomful of guests waiting? People have been asking for you.”
“I doubt that.” Thea barely heard the words muttered under Amelia’s breath, but her mother had bat ears. She heard her just fine.
“Don’t talk back to me, young lady. I expect you to behave properly, despite the example of the company you insist on keeping.” She glared at Thea, who had taken the opportunity to shift on the sofa and let a little more thigh show through the high slit of her dress.
Mrs. Westlake’s thin nose quivered, but she refused to be sidetracked from her harangue. “Poor Charles has had to continue greeting your guests all by himself.”
“Poor Charles,” Amelia repeated sourly. “To tell you the truth, Mother, he was doing just fine for the both of us even when I was standing right beside him, so I don’t see how my absence can make any difference at all.”
Thea couldn’t tell who was more surprised, Amelia or her mother.
Narrowing her eyes—the Botox must have been wearing off—Mrs. Westlake said sharply, “Don’t you dare take that tone with me, young lady. This is your engagement party. People expect to speak to the bride as well as the groom. It’s your responsibility to make all of your guests welcome.”
Sensing that things could only degenerate from bad to disaster, Thea jumped into the fray. “Mellie was feeling a little lightheaded because she missed lunch, so she came in here to eat something and rest until she felt better before going back out to face the crowd.”
“Yeah, it would be terrible if she fainted in front of all those inquisitive reporters.” Lillian picked up the distraction and ran with it. She gave a theatrical shudder. “Who knows what they might start thinking about why she did.” Her hand touched her own stomach in suggestion.
Mrs. Westlake looked horrified.
“Rumors like that could ruin Charles’s reputation.” She glared at her daughter. “Make sure you’re not feeling lightheaded anymore when you come out. I’ll have to say something about you being gone, though.” She tapped a lacquered nail to her chin. “Your dress. Yes, that will work. Something was spilled on your dress and you had to have it taken care of.” She nodded decisively. “If anyone asks you, that’s what happened. Understood?”
“Perfectly,” Amelia replied, sounding weary. She stared after her mother as the door snicked shut. “It would ruin Charles’s reputation. What about me, Mother? Wouldn’t being pregnant ruin my reputation as well?” She pressed her fingers into her temples, making Thea curse to herself. One ailment had been eased only to make way for another. Pouring a glass of water from the Baccarat carafe, Thea handed it to Amelia, who had already dug one of the migraine pills she’d only recently started needing out of her handbag. She swallowed it with a faint grimace. “Thanks.”
“I could always get us something stronger,” Lillian said, only half joking. “One of the bars is right around the corner.”
“Tempting,” Amelia said, “but getting snookered would probably ruin Charles’s reputation, too, so I guess I’d better not.” She took a compact from her bag and checked her makeup, freshened her lipstick, and gave herself a practice smile in the mirror before rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out at her image.
Rising, she smoothed down her dress. It was a beautiful silk and lace creation in a pale, almost icy blue, and suited Amelia’s coloring, if not her personality. It was obvious she hated it. But then, Thea mused, when had anything about the evening ever been about what Amelia wanted?
“Okay.” Amelia threw her shoulders back and tilted her chin up. “I’m ready. Let’s go face the hordes.”
As it turned out, it wasn’t the hordes she needed
to worry about facing. It was the dragons. Both of them swooped down to intercept the trio almost the second they emerged, neatly extracting Amelia from the protection of her friends.
“There are people you need to speak to at once, before they feel slighted,” Mrs. Davenport said, one long-taloned hand taking firm hold of Amelia’s arm as she steered her future daughter-in-law toward the far end of the room.
“And after that, you need to speak to the Dowlings,” Mrs. Westlake said, striding closely at her other side, boxing her in. “They were very disappointed you didn’t come and see them first thing.”
Amelia threw a pleading glance over her shoulder, looking very much like a condemned prisoner being led to the gallows. Thea started to follow, but Lillian shook her head. “No, no, I’ve got this shift. You go and dance with your man and have a little fun.” She winked before spinning on her four-inch heels and sashaying after the threesome forging through the crowded ballroom, her daring backless gown drawing more than a few looks of appreciation from men as she passed.
Thea considered tagging along to offer her own support, but Lillian was more than capable of running any necessary interference. And Thea did want to dance with Doyle at least once tonight. Then she’d track down Mellie and see if she needed help with a strategic escape to the powder room.
Turning, she almost walked straight into Oliver, who grabbed her arm to keep them from colliding, just as he had at Platinum, while managing to hang onto the full champagne flute he carried in the other without spilling it.
“Oh!” She let out a rueful laugh as she steadied herself. “We have to stop meeting like this,” she said, trying to ignore the sweatiness of his palm against her bare skin.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked, not responding to the jest with a smile of his own.
“Um…sure, I guess. What’s up?”
“Charles needs to speak with you. It’s important,” he said when she hesitated.
The seriousness of his face and tone made Thea bite back her knee-jerk refusal. She was pretty sure Charles knew she didn’t like him all that much, not that it would matter to him one way or the other. But if he was seeking her out—well, sending his minion to seek her out—then what he had to say probably had something to do with Amelia, and was, therefore, something she’d make the time to listen to.