"Are you all right?" he said.
She nodded, but he knew she was nervous. When she was uneasy, she had a habit of twirling a strand of hair around her finger. She did so now.
He placed his hand on hers to still her movements. Although her hand was cold, it felt good inside his.
He smiled reassurance at her. "I'll lay the groundwork, then I'll get you. Okay?"
She wet her lips. "Okay."
He gave her hand a quick squeeze, and then knocked and went in.
"Will. Good to see you." Randolph greeted him with an outstretched hand. "You look fit, tan."
Randolph gestured toward the Queen Anne chair. His cool blue eyes narrowed. "This had better be good. Scargill will have a hissy fit if I'm late."
Will sat and then straightened the knot on his tie. "It is good, Randy. Actually, it's wonderful."
The skin around the man's eyes crinkled as his grin widened. He jumped up and started pumping Will's hand.
"Stella's pregnant! That's great, Will. Congratulations."
"No!" Will pulled back his hand. Dear God, she wasn't, was she?
He stared at Randolph. "Is she?"
The look on the older man's face was priceless. "How on earth would I know?" He sat back down. "Are you feeling all right, Will?"
"Yes, yeah, of course." Will slid his hand over his hair, then took another deep breath. "Randy, what I have to say is going to shock you. This is about... Andrea."
Randolph's gaze flickered. When the intercom buzzed, he quickly turned his attention to it. "Yes?"
"I've got your coffee, Mr. Ernst."
"Not now, Melinda. And hold my calls."
Randolph turned back toward Will, but this time, no warmth remained in his deep blue eyes. "What about my daughter?"
Will walked over to the door. "I'll let you see for yourself."
* * * *
The door opened. That was her cue. Andrea gulped down hard, before she got up and walked inside. She didn't see the office. She didn't even see Wilson. All she saw was her father sitting behind his massive desk.
He looked like thunder. "What the hell kind of trick is this, Will?"
She looked to her left where Wilson stood. Even he appeared at a loss as to how to proceed. In that instant, she knew she had to take charge of the situation.
She walked in further and stood in front of the desk. "It's no trick." She removed the sunglasses. "Don't tell me you don't recognize me."
Her father's mouth flapped open. "Andrea?"
"It's me, Dad." She opened her arms, wide. "Aren't you going to give your daughter a hug?"
"Oh my God." His face turned ashen. He sat rooted to his chair.
Wilson reopened the door and called out to the secretary. "We'll have that coffee now, Melinda."
Andrea slipped the sunglasses back on.
When the secretary brought in tray containing the coffee pot and cups, her father's office was as quiet as the grave. Will murmured his thanks.
With the door closed again, Andrea whipped off the sunglasses. She'd never seen her father speechless. He was now. He appeared older, so much older, and his hand shook when he went to smooth back his white hair.
"Andrea?" His voice cracked. "Is it really you? You look just like your mother."
"It's me, Dad." She poured coffee and handed him the cup. "Here, drink this."
He stared up at her, blankly. He tried to stand, but somehow wasn't able to get to his feet. She stepped over to give him a hug.
She savored the solid feel of him, and his scent of bay rum and tobacco.
"How did you... Why didn't you...?" He blinked as if trying to gain control over himself.
She heard Wilson approach and felt his hand on her back. "Perhaps I should leave you two alone, so you can catch up on things."
She kissed her father on the cheek, and then straightened and faced Wilson. "No, please, Wilson, I'd really like you to be here."
He sat in an antique chair. She made a move to sit by him, but her father refused to relinquish her hand. "Stay by me, Andrea."
"I'd like that." Smiling, she removed her jacket, sat on the edge of the desk and took hold of his hand again.
She launched into an abbreviated version of her story. There was no point in telling the reason for her suicide-like dash to the observation deck. No one had been at fault. No one was to blame.
"Dolphins, Andrea? All the way to Hilo?"
Her father had a difficult time believing the identity of her rescuers. He also didn't say much about her amnesia. His eyes, though, seemed to sparkle when she relayed the part about how Wilson had come to the Big Island, and that she'd thought he looked familiar.
"He should look familiar." Her father laughed, the first time she'd heard him laugh in years. "After all, he's your husband."
Biting her lip, she glanced over at Wilson. He stretched out the knot in his tie, obviously uncomfortable.
The intercom buzzed, "Mr. Ernst, the limousine is here to take you to--"
"Cancel it, Melinda. And call Scargill and tell him I have better things to do with my time than to babysit him." He cut the connection.
Then he turned a brilliant smile on her. She smiled back. He looked years younger.
"The three of us are going out to celebrate." He reached over and kissed the back of her hand.
As happy as she was to see and to feel her father's love, she couldn't help but feel sad, too. She looked over again at Wilson.
He cleared his throat. "Randy, you and Andrea celebrate. I have to be getting home to Stella."
"Stella?" her father said, as if he'd never heard the woman's name. Then he must've remembered who Stella was, for he slapped his free hand to his forehead. "Blast it, Will. What are you going to do?"
Andrea got to her feet, then helped her father up. She couldn't bear to see Wilson in such a bind. Not only wasn't this mess his fault, it wasn't his responsibility.
"Let's get going, Dad. Right now, you and I are going to paint the town red. Make up for lost time. Catch up on all the news, okay? We'll take care of the details later. Like declaring me alive again and getting an annulment." She slipped into her parka.
"Annulment?" Her father raised white eyebrows.
Heat rose on her cheeks. She glanced at Wilson.
He grabbed the black coat hanging in the closet and helped her father into it. "Annulment will be easier for everyone concerned, Randy. Trust me."
Her father darted his gaze from her to Wilson. He shrugged. "Whatever you say, Will. None of that legal hogwash matters. What is important is that my little girl is back. And she's as beautiful as ever."
With his arm hooked with Andrea's on one side and with Wilson's on the other, her father led them out of the office as if all was right with the world.
Andrea blinked to drive away tears of joy. All was right with the world. All this time she'd been dreading seeing Randolph Ernst again. Finally, she felt his approval. His love. No matter what else happened, she knew he really cared about her.
* * * *
Will parked on the street alongside his brownstone townhouse. For a moment, he collected his thoughts, allowing his Mazda SUV to idle. Bereft probably best described how he felt. He missed Andrea's company. He missed her voice, her touch, her laughter.
Hell, he missed the whole package.
Back at the office, while talking with her father, she'd looked to him for support. Several times. When she told her tale to her father, she whitewashed it so that Randolph remained unaware of why, exactly, she'd found her way outside, on the yacht's deck.
She hadn't needed to do that. Will had confessed the whole to her father. At least, what he'd believed had happened that night. As a result Dahlia Meyers had been transferred to another city--far away from the grieving father. And from him, the grieving husband.
But now he had to switch gears.
He pulled into the brownstone's attached garage. Suitcase in hand, he trudged up to the first floor of the townhouse. "Hello? I'
m home."
Like an eagle swooping down on its prey, Stella scrambled down the staircase from the upper level and collided into him, enveloping him in her embrace.
Her overly sweet fragrance of gardenias enveloped him as well. And as she had promised, she was scantily dressed.
"Sugarpie!" She kissed him and panted at the same time. "I've missed you so much."
He wished he could be as enthusiastic. "I've missed you, too, Stella." He gently extricated himself from her embrace, and averted his gaze from her bare pointy breasts to look around the living room. "So where's this Christmas tree I've heard so much about?"
Thus distracted, she blithely chattered on about her dilemmas on selecting the perfect tree. Her breasts wobbled in agreement, her nipples peaked at attention.
He felt in his pocket for the earrings, then removed the box. "Here's your present, Stella. Should I put it under the tree?"
Her "No!" was vehement, shaking not only her long hair about her shoulders, but those bobbing breasts as well.
She took the velvet box. "Don't be silly, sugar. This is a 'business trip away from Stella' present. It's not for Christmas."
Closing her eyes, she opened the box, then her eyes. She blinked. "Oh, they are pretty, sugar. So shiny." She tilted her head. "A bit small though, aren't they?"
He frowned. Here was a side of her that he hadn't seen before. "Three eighths of a carat, not that it matters."
"Well, I just love them." She blew him a kiss. "Let me put them on so I'll be more fancy."
Now, with her new gift glittering on her ears, she pranced about the room wearing the diamonds and a lacy thong.
And she talked. And talked. All her activities, thoughts, and experiences during the week he'd been away gushed forth from her rosebud lips at high volume, the words tumbling over one another as she babbled. Like her costume, nothing was left to the imagination. Nothing was left out.
He felt numb. But numbness was a good thing. So he smiled to encourage her, admired her handiwork on the Christmas tree, and applauded her on all her volunteer endeavors.
Stella loved the attention. After her stream-of-consciousness petered out, she turned affectionate, rubbing herself against him, and wanting to know when little Willy was going to come out and play.
Although sex was the furthest thing on his mind, Will obliged his wife, except for one thing. There was no way, no chance on God's good earth, that he was going to get Stella pregnant.
* * * *
Andrea was uncomfortable. Her father had taken her to a five-star restaurant with an upscale atmosphere and diners to match. She, however, was dressed in sweats.
The loving look in her father's eyes wiped away any embarrassment.
"Andrea, my dearest, I can't tell you how good, how great, it is to see you. To have you seated across from me. To know you're all right." He reached over and gave her hand a little squeeze.
She relished his attention. "It's wonderful to see you too, Dad."
He lifted his wine goblet for a toast. "To you, my dear Andrea. Now that you're home, I'm going to pull out all the stops. From now on, there'll be nothing but the best for my girl."
Although she clinked her glass with his, she avoided looking directly at him. She didn't have the heart to tell him that this was only a visit. She wasn't going to stay.
When she'd first seen him in his office, he'd looked older, worn-down, even defeated. Once he'd realized who she was, he'd come to life, more like the man she knew seven years ago.
He took a sip of cabernet sauvignon and set the goblet down. "So, let's make plans. You'll be staying with me for the time being, of course."
Over the top of her wine glass, she gazed at him. It was all coming back to her. Randolph Ernst always made plans: his plans. He was always the one in control.
"First thing tomorrow, we'll file for a revocation of the determination of death. We'll have you back up among the living in no time at all."
As he drank more wine, he chuckled.
"As for the annulment Will mentioned, I'm not certain it's necessary." Her father rubbed his chin, as if deep in thought. "The presumption of death proclamation negated your marriage, you know."
"I know." What else could she say?
A strange light reflected in his eyes. "There was no issue, was there?"
"Issue?"
"Children."
Andrea felt heat rise on her cheeks. "No. No children." She couldn't mention that their union hadn't been consummated. Not before the marriage, nor afterwards.
"Pity." Her father lost his faraway look and focused on her. "In any event, I've got just the thing. On next Saturday night the firm is holding the annual Christmas party. It's a big affair. Huge, even. Lots of eligible attorneys and clients will be present. Attorneys from the other offices, as well. In fact, I've got a few young men in mind to introduce to you."
She picked up a roll, then buttered it. "I'm not interested, Dad. I'm here to enjoy being with you, and that's about it."
She still couldn't bring up just how temporary her visit was. But if he kept insisting on playing matchmaker, her visit would shorten considerably.
He patted her hand again. "Yes, it's too bad about Will's recent marriage, isn't it? He did wait a long time, Andrea. I don't want you to hold that against him."
"I don't. Not at all. It just wasn't meant to be, that's all." She shrugged, but deep inside, she still felt a smidgeon of betrayal. After all, she hadn't remarried.
Her father finished his cabernet and signaled to the wine steward for a refill. His cheeks were rosy pink just like old Saint Nick's. "Don't you worry your pretty little head over your single status. There'll be plenty of young men at the party. They'll fight for their chance to twirl you about the dance floor."
She didn't like the turn this conversation was taking.
His wine glass now full again, he downed more cabernet. "You'll find one or two to take a shine to, hey? By Jove, you won't be unwedded for very long."
Andrea drummed her fingers on the table. As much as she loved her father, an old suspicion resurfaced. Was he eager to have her marry so she could produce grandchildren? Grandsons, in particular?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tuesday morning arrived with a bad taste in Will's mouth. Not literally, but he rolled over in bed and took a swig of water from his glass he had on the nightstand.
"Time to get up and go to work," Stella chirped from her side.
He ignored her and her suggestion. Today meant filing paperwork for Andrea's legal rebirth--a good thing, of course, but also it meant checking if a dissolution of marriage, an annulment, a divorce, was needed.
Will didn't feel like doing any of it. Randolph could handle the necessary details. At least the rebirth part, anyway.
Stretching, he laced his hands together and rested his hands under his head. "I think I'll just sleep in today."
Stella straddled him and bent her head to tickle his face with her hair. "What a naughty boy you are, sugar! Wantin' another helpin' of last night's fun."
He didn't move. Another helping of Stella was not on his to-do list.
She sat straight up. "But you are goin' to work today, aren't you, sugar? Work so you can buy your Stella pretty things."
"Not today, Stella." He gazed up at her. The scales finally fell from his eyes. "I've got jetlag."
"But what about that thing you told me about last night? About that woman, Mr. Ernst's daughter. Andrea, isn't it? Pity she showed up after all these years."
She crossed her arms across her breasts. Her mouth hardened. "Sugar, I just won't abide you bein' a bigamist. And if our marriage is illegitimate, well, let me tell you--"
"It's not, Stella. I told you it's legal."
Unfortunately.
Sighing, he closed his eyes. He just couldn't seem to face the day.
He heard her huff, then felt her get off the bed.
"Well, shoot, sugar. I've got three committee meetings so I've got to get a hoppin'. Unlike yo
u, I'll probably be busy all day."
He watched her sashay into the bathroom. "Sluggard," she called back.
She hadn't said it affectionately, but maybe she was right. Maybe he was a sluggard.
He handled Stella's frosty demeanor with equanimity. When she finally left the house, he dressed casually. Not that he was going to Ernst, Scargill, and Peterson's. He'd turned the upstairs third bedroom into his own law study at home. He'd contact his clients from there.
He purposefully neglected to put on one item he usually wore, his wedding band. Whether that was due to spite or because of wishful thinking, he wasn't sure.
Cup of coffee in hand, Will called his assistant and let her know his location for the day. After a brief update on each case's status, he settled in behind his desk. He appreciated the quiet. No background noises of telephones ringing, no unscheduled interruptions, and no awkward explanations to make when his colleagues found out about Andrea. None of those things would be present to disturb him.
And there'd be no non-stop blather from Stella.
It was well into the afternoon when he heard the doorbell ring.
Leaving his latest case--a civil suit--behind, he trotted down the stairs and opened the door without looking through the peephole.
"Andrea!"
Still in the white parka he had bought her, she smiled. Her cheeks were reddened by the cold, her face edged by raccoon fur, and her lithe legs were covered in corduroy slacks. She reminded him of a snow bunny. His snow bunny.
How he wished that were so.
"Hi, Wilson." She entered his house carrying a bag with a delicious aroma. "I heard you were working from home today, and thought maybe you haven't had lunch yet. I come bearing gifts of a culinary nature."
"As a matter of fact, I haven't eaten. Thanks for thinking of me." He led her through the entryway into the dining room. "I appreciate the treat."
She took one look at the formal dining table decorated with Christmas paraphernalia before she walked into the adjoining kitchen. "Very nice, but let's eat at the breakfast bar. Fried chicken can be pretty messy."
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