RSVP...Baby

by Pamela Browning

  Sunlight dappled his dark hair and skin; it dazzled her. Or he dazzled her, and she wasn’t sure which. She didn’t know how many women ever got to live their dreams, but she was living hers now, this very moment.

  “What is that word you say to Tia, the one where you call her something that means she is dear to you?” he murmured close to her ear.

  “Cara,” she said unsteadily.

  He lifted himself up on his elbows. “Cara. I like it,” he said.

  “And ‘cara mia’—my dear.”

  “Cara mia,” he repeated, looking down at her with ineffable tenderness.

  Bianca thought that in that moment, she must be experiencing the fullest measure of happiness allotted to anyone in one lifetime. As Neill slid his body over hers, he said, “I wonder if any other two people in the world ever enjoyed lovemaking more than we do.”

  “I doubt it,” she replied, sure of the truth of this.

  “Why is it so good with us?”

  Because I’m crazy in love with you and have been since I was a kid, she wanted to shout.

  All she said was, “Could we please stop talking about it and just plain do it?”

  He chuckled deep in his throat. “We don’t ‘just plain do it.’ You make it sound simple, like frying an egg. We’re talking gourmet here, Bianca.”

  She could feel his arousal, and she didn’t want to wait any longer. “We’re talking entirely too much,” she said as the pulse quickened in his neck and her body arched to fit his. Reality slipped away as her softness engulfed him, and after that they didn’t talk at all for a very long time.

  “DO YOU HAVE any idea what time it is? We’ve missed the wedding breakfast,” Bianca said, sitting straight up.

  Neill lay with his arm across his eyes. His skin gleamed in the bright sunlight, and she thought she had never seen a more perfect physique.

  “I can tell by the way my stomach is rumbling.” He rolled over on his stomach and rested his head on her chest. His arms went around her, his fingers caressing her spine slowly.

  “Haven’t you had enough?” she said.

  “Have you?”

  She thought about this. In terms of a lifetime, maybe not. Could she say that without making it sound as if she expected him to hang around for the rest of her life? Probably not.

  “I asked you first,” she said.

  He snorted. “We sound like kids. We sound like you and Eric in the old days.”

  “We are children, in a way. We’re hesitant and unsure, looking to each other to find out what we’re supposed to be doing.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “What we shouldn’t be doing is overanalyzing. Let’s have a picnic.”

  “You brought food?”

  He lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I wasn’t planning to go back to the hotel until it was time to get ready for the wedding. The kitchen made me a few sandwiches and I brought some fruit. Let’s see what else they packed.” He pulled on his jeans, smiled at her, and walked over to Black Jack where he dug in one of the saddlebags.

  He returned triumphant, holding out a small lunch pack. “They even threw in a couple of sodas,” he said.

  Bianca dressed quickly, and they settled on a large flat rock overhanging the stream. Neill spread the food out in the sun, and they downed the sandwiches and some of the fruit before lighting into the fudge brownies for which the hotel was famous.

  Afterward they dangled their feet in the water and let little minnows nibble at their toes. A vociferous chipmunk chattered at them from a tree stump, and Neill chattered back at him until Bianca laughed. Neill kissed her until she stopped laughing, and then he held her hand and they lay back to gaze at the clouds so high above. Neill lifted her hand, studied the lines in her palm, and pressed his lips to it. He placed her hand over his heart where she could feel it beating, and then he closed his eyes.

  She turned her head toward him and studied the firmness of his jaw, which reminded her of Tia’s. She wondered if Neill would ever love his daughter; wanting to be a responsible father wasn’t the same as loving her. Certainly it was part of it, though.

  And did he love her, Bianca? If he didn’t, would he someday, given the chance?

  She sighed, knowing that all of this would have to be worked out later. But when, she didn’t know. She was scheduled to leave tomorrow. As if he could read her mind, Neill opened his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow.

  “Will you and Tia come to visit me in Colombia?” he said.

  A year ago she would have leapt at the chance. And she certainly wanted to be with Neill. She wanted to see how he lived, spend time with him, laugh with him, love with him. But reality was rearing its intrusive head, and she had to take other facets of her life into consideration.

  “We could come in October after I introduce the new line of popular-priced jewelry,” she said reluctantly.

  “October! That’s months away! Tia will be four months older by then.” She could feel his dismay.

  “Neill, I can’t just abandon my business after taking time out for this wedding. And I’ll need to bring a nanny, and I’m not sure if the one we have now would want to go to Colombia even if she’s well enough, and she might not be.”

  Neill looked so disheartened that she tried to think. “Maybe if I could persuade my mother to take a more active part in the company, I could come in August,” she said. Ursula was a member of the board of directors of D’Alessandro, and both her business and design sense were impeccable. Also, she was good at dealing with Vittorio.

  “In August, I’m climbing Everest,” Neill said.

  His words pricked her bubble, and it burst. If she was willing to adjust her schedule, couldn’t he do the same? He would if he really wanted to get to know Tia, as he’d said He would if he loved her.

  But he hadn’t said he loved her. He’d said he wanted to get to know Tia better. He’d said he wanted to be a responsible father. All well and good, but not what she longed to hear. And she couldn’t make him love her, nor could she force him to see things her way.

  She felt slightly sick. “I think we’d better go back to the hotel,” she said. “It’s time to get ready for the wedding.”

  “Bianca, I’ve planned to climb Everest for a long time,” he said slowly.

  She turned to face him, not wanting to throw cold water on his plans but knowing that she needed to make her stand clear.

  “And you’ve said I’m running. Neill, Mount Everest is about as far as anyone can run and still stay on this planet. But you know what? When you come down, the people you’re trying so hard to leave behind will still be here. And so will the problems associated with them.” She made him look at her, made him blink. He flushed angrily and walked swiftly to Black Jack, leaving her alone at the edge of the creek.

  When he led the horse to her, she was dusting off the seat of her pants. She didn’t speak and neither did he. He hoisted her up on the horse first and swung into place behind her. And although she rode in front of him on Black Jack, even though she felt the warmth of his body through their clothes, they seemed miles apart. It was as though he were already high on a lofty mountain and she was back in Europe, and it was as if they had never shared their feelings or talked about plans or even made love.

  But they had, and that was as much of a problem as everything else.

  When they reached the stables, she slid down from the horse immediately.

  “I’d better get back to my room and make sure my dress is in order for the wedding,” she said.

  “Bianca...” He sounded exasperated, but so was she.

  “I’ll see you later,” she said, not entirely succeeding in keeping the chill out of her voice.

  “Right. We’ll see each other at the wedding. There’s no avoiding it, is there?” he called after her. If he cared for her at all, she couldn’t tell from his tone of voice.

  Bianca blinked tears from her eyes as she made her way back to the hotel. She was hoping she wouldn’t run into
any other members of the wedding party, but as she was sneaking into the lobby through the doors leading out to the garden terrace, she spotted Caroline hunched in a chair in the corner near the French doors and crying her heart out.

  “Caroline,” Bianca said “Are you all right?”

  “There’s not going to be a wedding,” Caroline sobbed.

  Bianca knelt beside Caroline. “If Eric has hurt you, Caroline, I’m going to give him a good talking to. How can he be such a fool, that’s what I want to know. Why would he—”

  Caroline blinked wide blue eyes at her. “Eric?” she said slowly.

  By this time Bianca was fuming. “Yes, Eric, just another no-good Bellamy when you get right down to it.”

  “But Bianca, Eric isn’t the reason the wedding is off. Mummy fired the minister. We don’t have anyone to perform the ceremony.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Oh, yes we do,” said Kevin, who happened to wander in at just that moment.

  “Who?” chorused Bianca and Caroline.

  “Saffron.” He was carrying a putting iron and was clearly just back from the putting green.

  “Saffron!” chorused Caroline and Bianca.

  “Saffron,” Kevin repeated smugly. “She’s a licensed minister.” He leaned on the golf club and grinned.

  “I thought Saffron was the co-owner with Lizzie of The Velvet Fig. It’s a mail-order company,” Caroline said in bewilderment as she dabbed at her mascara with a damp handkerchief.

  “Well, I don’t know about that. All I know is that Saffron told me she’s performed marriage ceremonies before.”

  Caroline was out of the chair like a shot. “I’d better go talk to her. I think I saw her headed toward the pool. Excuse me, both of you.”

  Kevin and Bianca stared blankly at each other.

  “Well, what could you expect,” Kevin said with a twinkle. “It’s a Bellamy wedding. Anything can happen—”

  “And usually does,” Bianca chimed in so that they repeated the words in unison.

  “Well, Beans, do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

  Bianca remembered Kevin from when he used to come to visit Budge at the Lake Forest house. He had been an annoyance then, always wanting to tag along when she and Eric were teenagers and he’d been a little kid.

  “Maybe later,” Bianca told him. “I’ve got things to do.”

  “Do you think I should follow Caroline? Help her to find Saffron?”

  “You might as well,” Bianca called over her shoulder. Kevin disappeared out the French doors again, golf club over his shoulder.

  All right, thought Bianca. Next problem. Whatever it might be.

  Well, it wasn’t the dress, which was hanging freshly pressed in the closet, but it might be the message light on the phone, which was blinking. She checked her messages and learned that Vittorio had called.

  While she removed the dress from its protective plastic bag, she tried to figure out if it was too late to phone Vittorio in Italy. She decided it wasn’t, especially since she was sure he’d want to know that she’d seen the video of emeralds from the Viceroy-Bellamy mine.

  She called Vittorio at his villa and was delighted when he answered. Quickly she told him about viewing the video of the Viceroy-Bellamy emeralds.

  “Ah, Bianca, you are right to start a gemstone line! With quality stones in the family, how can you go wrong? Tell me, do you have a problem with going ahead? With hiring the people we’ll need, setting up the paperwork?”

  “No, Vittorio. Have our people call their people and get on the case.”

  Vittorio laughed. The “their people, our people” line was a joke between them, since she and Vittorio were “the people” at D’Alessandro. “When Ursula comes back from her honeymoon, I will suggest that she call the Viceroy-Bellamy mines. Perhaps she will want to go there. She is an intrepid traveler, your mother, and she loves to shop.” He laughed again.

  “Well, Mother will probably love it, and she’ll drag Claudio along, and he’ll enjoy it, too.”

  “I am glad you called, Bianca. I have missed you.”

  “I miss you too,” Bianca said before she hung up. There was an ache in her throat. It was true. She did miss her work. Until she had this conversation with Vittorio, she hadn’t realized how much. More than ever she realized that her work was her link to another life, one that made sense, one without any Bellamys in it whatsoever.

  AT LONG LAST—at very, very long last, it seemed to Bianca—it was time for the wedding of Miss Caroline Lambert Knox to Mr. Eric Bellamy. The garden at Swan’s Folly had been transformed into a confection of pink and white roses and pink-and-white-striped tents and pink and white streamers marking off the reserved rows.

  Guests had already been seated and the bridesmaids were lined up on the terrace ready to proceed to the Folly for the wedding ceremony. As they waited for Genevieve’s cue to proceed down the aisle, an airplane swooped low over the grounds, momentarily drowning out the sedate strains of the string quartet sawing its way through a Bach trio.

  “Damned reporters,” grumbled Hainsworth, standing behind them with Caroline on his arm. “Rivals of Eric’s magazine, no doubt. You’d think they’d let the wedding proceed in peace.”

  Over Lizzie’s shoulder, Bianca saw Saffron emerge from the Folly. She was wearing a yellow velvet dress, long and sleeveless, and she’d topped off the ensemble with an enormous matching hat. Bianca, who liked things simple and elegant, would have called Saffron’s outfit the Scarlett O’Hara Just Snatched My Dress From the Drapery Rod look.

  Saffron situated herself under the bower of white roses erected for the occasion, and Eric and Neill took their places to one side of her, both of them gazing expectantly toward the terrace.

  “Good grief,” said Petsy, looking askance at Saffron’s getup.

  Bianca whispered to Lizzie, “What church is Saffron ordained in?” Genevieve turned around and glared at them, but Bianca didn’t care.

  “Church?” said Lizzie, looking puzzled.

  “Kevin said she’s a minister!”

  “Shh,” hissed Genevieve.

  “Saffron isn’t ordained in any church. She’s a member of the Cloister of the Goddess of Universal Bliss and Sunshine. They’re into bliss and joy. That’s why they love weddings.” Lizzie shrugged. “I think all of them perform ceremonies.”

  “Cloister of the what?” Genevieve asked loudly. “Did you say...” Her voice grew fainter. “Did you say goddess? Good Lord.”

  Lizzie bit her lip, and Bianca stared blankly.

  At this point, Kevin tugged impatiently at Genevieve’s arm, and they started off down the aisle.

  Bianca giggled; she couldn’t help it.

  “Okay, this is it,” hissed Lizzie.

  “It had better be,” Bianca said. The words couldn’t have been more heartfelt.

  In front of the Folly, Eric waited expectantly as the bride started down the aisle. Eric was much more nervous about the wedding than Neill had expected him to be, which was why it was a good thing that he and Neill had patched up their quarrel earlier. Just before the ceremony, Neill had told Eric that he now knew that Bianca’s baby was his own.

  Eric had seemed relieved. Well, he ought to be. It couldn’t have been fun for Eric to know that his own brother suspected him of fathering a child by a bridesmaid, and Bianca at that. Maybe that very suspicion on Caroline’s part is what had fueled the arguments between bride and groom. Who knew? One thing for sure, Eric sure wasn’t talking. In fact, he didn’t look at all like a bridegroom should look, which was slightly nervous but totally in thrall to his bride. Eric didn’t have that enthralled look. He looked—well, resigned.

  Neill glanced at Bianca, who stood on the other side of Saffron. Bianca was avoiding his eyes, and he knew why. She wanted commitment. But was he ready for that? He could barely admit that he was half in love with her, and commitment required being totally, completely and irrevocably in love.

  Caroline emerged from the h
otel for the march down the aisle. She wore a lacy gown and a frothy full-length veil flowing as long as her train.

  He sneaked another look at Bianca. In that moment he was sure that no bride could hold a candle to her, putrid-pink dress or not. She stood calm and erect with a small wistful smile playing across her lips, those lips that he had so recently enjoyed kissing. She had always been a striking woman, but today she was even more so. She managed to look cool and collected despite the heat of the day, and she was so sensationally beautiful in that ridiculous fluffy dress that the sight of her made his throat catch. Would their little girl look like her? He hoped so.

  Hainsworth, advancing with Caroline on his arm, was playing the part of the proud father, and Genevieve, for once, smiled benignly as her daughter reached the place where her bridegroom waited. The guests were suitably hushed, Saffron looked solemn, and there was a helicopter homing in overhead.

  A helicopter?

  Neill looked up at it as he felt the down rush of air from its blades. Whoppeta whoppeta they went, and the guests were all gaping, too, even as the intrepid Saffron, as officiating minister, went into a spiel about bliss and joy that Neill could barely hear because of the noise. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Bianca looking at him, eyebrows slightly lifted in a question mark. He shrugged, and Bianca quickly looked away. Another helicopter appeared from somewhere, and he saw a photographer leaning out the door. Stupid paparazzi; he didn’t know why they or anyone else cared about these nuptials, major society wedding or not.

  Neill’s mind wandered as he thought how proud Hainsworth had looked as he walked his daughter down the aisle. In his split-second imaginings, Neill saw himself romping on the beach with a two-year-old Tia and admiring her drawings at her grade-school open house and shooting videos of her dancing at a teenage party. He realized how hard it would be to see a daughter off to college knowing that she would never live at home again. He even imagined himself handing his daughter into the protection of another man, her future husband.