by Jo Kessel
“It?” asked Claire, teasingly.
“Yes, it,” replied Dolores. And then, thinking she’d understood why Claire was teasing, she added, “By it I mean the baby.”
“That’s the thing,” said Claire, pausing for dramatic effect. “It’s not just one baby, it’s two. We’re having twins.”
Claire remembered breaking the pregnancy news about Miriam. Telling people you’re going to have a baby is exciting stuff, but somehow telling people you’re having twins feels even more special. Dolores shrieked again, so loud and long that Claire didn’t hear Jonah entering the room. She started when he put a hand on her arm.
“Oh my God,” she said, turning her attention temporarily away from her mother. “You’re back. Hello.”
“Yes I’m back,” Jonah smiled at Dolores on the screen. “Hello Mrs J. What’s with all the screaming ladies? Have I interrupted something?”
“I’m sorry Jonah,” Claire admitted, “I’ve just told my mum.”
“I hear congratulations are in order,” said Dolores.
“Thank you,” said Jonah, sitting down next to Claire and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “You’re the first to know other than ourselves. We’re very excited.”
“Twins,” said Dolores, shaking her head, “I can’t believe it.”
“Yep,” he grinned, “a ready made doubles tennis team.”
“Oh my God,” said Dolores, clapping a hand over her mouth and going straight for the jugular with her questioning. Like mother, like daughter, the same concerns floated round their heads. “But where are you two going to live? Does that mean I’m going to have to fly to America?”
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“Bring a sweater with you,” said Jonah an hour later, after Claire had eaten breakfast and taken a shower. “We’re going out.”
“But it’s baking hot,” Claire objected. “What will I need a sweater for?”
“It might be a bit cooler where we’re going.”
“Where are we going?”
Claire loved Jonah’s spontaneity and the fact he liked to surprise her. Anthony had rarely done anything on a whim. In fact, it was always she who made the plans and he just fell in with whatever she’d organised. It made a pleasant change to have someone else taking charge of her social diary. Although with Jonah, she didn’t much mind about social arrangements. She could stay at home with him all day every day and it would be heavenly.
“We’re going to the mountains.”
“The mountains – do I need to pack?”
In all the times that Claire had been to San Diego Jonah had never taken her to the mountains. She wasn’t even sure where they were.
“No,” Jonah chuckled, “it’s only an hour away.”
Claire’s black cardigan was draped over the back of one of the dining room chairs. She pulled it off and followed Jonah to the front door.
“Why are we going there?”
“I thought the air would do you good. And getting away from here will at least stop you from telling any more people about our secret,” he reprimanded, kissing the tip of her nose.
“Sorry,” she apologised again, as he closed the front door behind them.
“It really doesn’t matter,” he said, pointing the car key at the Porsche Cayenne and clicking it. “I actually don’t care who knows. It was you who minded. And look how much happiness it gave your mother.”
Claire sat back and relaxed in the car as Jonah drove them along the scenic twists of the Sunrise Highway. The narrow, gentle road somehow mirrored Claire’s mood. She was feeling calmer about the pregnancy now, even excited. Jonah was right. They would and could work it all out. And the fact that it was two babies and not just one somehow seemed to make up for the past. It all felt like it was meant to be. Claire stroked the back of his neck as they wound through forests which eventually thinned out into desert down on her right. Pharrell Williams’ Happy started playing on the radio. Claire was about to say that despite how much she loved the song, she thought the radio station was playing it too much when her phone rang.
“Don’t answer,” said Jonah. “Today is now about you and me.”
Claire looked down at the screen.
“It’s Will Ryan from ABC,” she said.
“That call you answer woman,” he barked, smiling. “Quick. And whatever you do, don’t tell him you’re pregnant.”
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Welcome to Julian. That’s what the sign said as they approached a remote and achingly pretty mountain village. Parking up outside the Café and Bakery, which resembled a Western-style saloon with a wooden clapboard façade, Claire finally ended the call to Will Ryan. She turned to Jonah, eyes wide and took a deep breath.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
“Good news, huh?” he grinned.
“It’s been commissioned. The powers that be loved Taste of the Place and they’ve ordered a series of twelve hour-long shows with me in it and, apparently, Gordon Ramsey is going to feature in each episode too. They love the whole British vibe thing going on. I’m in shock.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Jonah leaned across to kiss her, planting a hand on her abdomen as he did so. “I’m so proud of all of you.”
“Filming starts at the beginning of October. I’ll definitely be showing by then, perhaps even earlier because its twins but you told me not to tell them I was pregnant. Don’t you think I should call back and come clean?”
“I think,” said Jonah, moving to get out the car, “that we should go for a walk and think about it and then we can discuss it over lunch. Good plan?”
“Good plan,” she agreed, standing up and slamming the car door behind her. “Mm, something here smells delicious.”
“This bakery is famous for its apple pie. In fact, the whole of Julian is famous for its apples as well as its pies.”
“Is that why you’ve brought me here?”
“No,” Jonah smirked, “I just fancied a change of scenery.”
He linked her hand in his and they started ambling towards a mountain lake. The narrow lanes and rickety shops felt like they were from a bygone era. Some horses and carriages even trotted by. They swung their clasped hands and breathed in the pure air.
“I didn’t see my agent this morning by the way,” Jonah started, “I met with an attorney.”
“You met with an attorney?”
Claire was slightly alarmed. She’d spent years married to a lawyer and between Anthony and the divorce she’d had enough of attorneys to last a lifetime.
“Duchess,” Jonah’s voice was serious. “We’ve got two babies on the way and a lot of decisions which need to be made. Whether you like it or not, I have a feeling that we will need help from a professional. I’m not convinced your ex-husband is going to like what we’ve got planned.”
Claire knew that Jonah was right. In fact, he was more than right. And they didn’t need any old attorney. They needed the best. Anthony was no pushover.
“Is your lawyer good?”
“My lawyer has put me in touch with an expert in the field and that’s who I met today.”
“Go on,” Claire whispered, her mouth turning dry. “Tell me what he said?”
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Julian is a historic mining town. After a long leisurely walk during which they chatted about their future as they circled a sparkling blue lake surrounded by foothills, Claire and Jonah passed a place where you could pan for gold.
“Want to try?” Jonah joked.
“Nah,” said Claire, “I’m more a silver kind of gal.”
He nodded and seemed pleased by her response. A few minutes later they were back at their car outside the Café and Bakery where the aroma of fresh baking engulfed them tantalisingly. Claire peered through the glass shop front at the trays of pastries.
“Shouldn’t we get some?” Claire suggested. “That apple pie smells and looks amazing.”
“No,” said Jonah. “Save yourself for lunch. I’m taking you to
the hottest place in town.”
They returned to the car and drove a few miles down the road until they arrived at a bistro called Jeremy’s On the Hill. Claire had never seen something quite so un-American in America. It was more akin to a quaint farmhouse in the French countryside. The inside was cosy and romantic. White linen tablecloths were dressed with wine glasses to accompany every course. But Jonah had a different plan. He’d reserved a table on the pretty outdoor patio. “It’s more private,” he said as they sat down and the waitress handed them menus.
“Would you like an aperitif?” the waitress asked.
“Yes,” Jonah was quick to answer. “Two glasses of champagne please.”
“And a bottle of sparkling water,” added Claire.
Once the waitress had gone, Claire reminded Jonah that she wasn’t allowed alcohol.
“A little bit won’t hurt,” he said.
She began perusing the menu - gourmet burgers and salads, with lots of interesting starters and sides, one of which, impressively, was crispy Brussels sprouts. Claire had long been extolling the virtues of this humble vegetable to her clients, but in England she’d never seen it on a cordon bleu menu.
“Wow,” she spoke out loud. “Brussels sprouts?”
“It’s their signature dish. You’ve got to try them. They’re sensational. And the lobster bisque is good too.”
The waitress returned with two flutes of champagne and a pad to take their order. Jonah asked for Bison burger with garlic herb fries and Claire chose two starters instead of a main course, with Jonah promising to let her have a taste of his Bison. Once the waitress had gone, Jonah stared at her strangely, furrowing his brow. It was unsettling.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, self-consciously touching her face, wondering which part of it was bothering him.
“You’ve got a weird rash,” he said, “across your nose and cheeks.”
She ran a finger over the area in question, expecting to feel bumps or soreness, but nothing. It didn’t remotely hurt. Perhaps pregnancy was starting to do weird things to her body.
“You sure it’s not the light?”
“If you don’t trust me, go look in a mirror.”
Claire scraped back her chair and headed indoors, asking for directions to the Restrooms. Once there, she stared intensely at her reflection but, in her opinion, she looked completely normal. Perhaps a few more freckles since she’d arrived in California but nothing more sinister. She washed her hands and headed back outside.
“I can’t see anything,” she said.
He eyed her intensely.
“Wow, that’s strange. It’s completely gone. Weird.”
Something wasn’t right. Jonah wasn’t right. He was acting strangely. How could a rash just vanish? He wrapped his fingers round the long stem of his glass.
“To your new job,” he toasted, “and to our ready made mixed doubles tennis pair.”
He raised his glass.
“Oh,” Claire retorted, “you’re convinced it’s a boy and a girl now?”
“Absolutely,” he grinned, looking at her glass and motioning that she should raise it to the toast too. She picked it up and tinkled his glass with hers.
“Thank you for making me the happiest woman in the world,” she whispered.
“No,” he was adamant. “Thank you for making me the happiest man alive.”
He lifted his glass to his lips and watched her do the same.
“Ugh,” she said as she took a sip, slamming the glass straight back down on the table.
“What, you can’t take the alcohol?”
“No,” she said, staring at the glass. “There’s something in my drink.”
Her eyes grew wide as she fished her fingers into the champagne and drew out the article in question. She stared wordlessly at the object she was now holding between her fingers, a thick silver band topped with a large square diamond which was sparkling like a kaleidoscope in the sunlight.
“Will you marry me?” he whispered.
“Oh,” she gasped, clapping a hand over her chest. She burst out crying as she nodded.
“Your signals are a little confusing,” Jonah murmured, eyes twinkling. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“Yes,” she laughed through her tears. And then, a little louder, “yes.”
They stood up, hugging and kissing and then Claire pulled away, to slide the ring onto her fourth left finger. It was the perfect fit, the perfect taste.
“Silver,” she said. “You knew I liked silver better than gold.”
“It’s actually white gold which just looks like silver.”
She kissed him hard and long and deep. It was a kiss so full of passion and intent that, had there been other diners on the patio, they might have averted their gaze.
“I’ve always wanted to marry a Kennedy,” she whispered into his lips, a half-joke.
“And I,” said Jonah, “have always wanted to marry a Duchess.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ANTHONY
“Good morning sir,” welcomed Jon the clerk as Anthony entered his law chambers. “Did you have a good holiday?”
“Yes thank you, Jon,” Anthony replied before sprinting up the narrow spiral staircase which wound to his office.
“I’ve left your mail on your desk,” Jon called behind him.
Anthony wasn’t certain why he tried to sprint the stairs. It’s not as if he was infused with energy and zest. Perhaps he was just trying to convince himself that he was feeling brighter than he actually was. Half the battle against fatigue and depression lay in the mind, he was convinced of it. So, if he could think himself positive then he might actually start to feel positive. And, fond though he was of the clerk, he certainly didn’t want Jon to suspect there was anything troubling him. Jon was one of the biggest gossips he knew. No, Anthony’s private business needed to stay just that: private.
Anthony had always looked forward to his holidays. One of the rewards for working so hard, which he did, was to play hard too. Vacationing gave him the chance to unwind and recharge, to prepare himself for the harsher months which lay ahead. It was only September 1st but already it felt like winter. A brief hailstorm rained down on him as he made his way from the tube station to his Chambers, the sharp hail stones pricking his skin. He prayed it wasn’t an omen of what was to come. Whilst he was pleased to be back in London and Jasper certainly appeared to be happier at home, what would be missed was the wall-to-wall California sunshine. That was definitely something Anthony could get used to. In all other respects, however, their holiday had been far from a hit. It hadn’t been a total whitewash. There were some high points. They had a great time in Los Angeles where they found a new hotel in a district called Korea Town, whose streets felt so authentic that Miriam kept asking if he was sure they weren’t in Asia. Then there was their road trip to the Joshua Tree National Park in the desert. On a sunrise trek they were greeted by a snake wrapping its sinewy body around a rock, flicking out its venomous tongue, daring them to approach. Thankfully nobody was hurt and it was an event whose story had grown like Chinese whispers so that now, when they spoke of it, what began as a distant sighting had morphed into a description of their scary brush with death. A few days later they hopped across the border into Tijuana, Mexico. So yes, they’d brought back with them several outstanding memories but even these highlights were somewhat fraught. Either Jasper had been fussing or Miriam was complaining. “It’s too hot.” “I don’t like the food.” “Shut up, Jasper.” Plus Anthony and Ali, who were normally solid as a team, were bickering far too much for his liking. The dynamic of the trip hadn’t been good and, now that they were home, Anthony very much hoped things would settle down.
He ran a hand through his hair as he surveyed the pile of mail on his desk. It wasn’t a pile, it was a tower. That was another downside of going away. There was all the catching up to do on the return. He set down his briefcase by the side of his desk and picked up the wedge of letters. One by one he exa
mined their exteriors. Junk mail went straight in the bin. Boring brown envelopes were siphoned into a separate pile to be looked at later. Anything that looked interesting or important he tore open. A bank statement; an order for a new wig and gown from Ede & Ravenscroft; correspondence from the Old Bailey regarding a date change for a trial and a rich cream A3 envelope bearing an American stamp and postmark. He hesitated before opening the letter from America. Could it be a bill? Had he incurred a speeding fine without realising it? He felt uneasy. In the right hand corner in bold black italics was the name of the firm it was sent from: Quinn, Sullivan & Pentecost.