“Yes.”
“And do you enjoy this line of work?”
“I do.”
“I imagine you’re good at it.” She thought he would be. His natural reticence and his strong-minded answers would serve well as a leader of men. He didn’t prattle, a trait she found annoying in men. Every word he said was meant to be heard. “Do you also manage women well?”
“There are women who will work under me, yes.”
“I meant in your private life.”
He laughed at that and shifted his weight. “I don’t think of it that way.”
“What way would you think of it?”
His smile fell. “I don’t think of it at all. I don’t try to manage women.”
“And yet”—Granny James arched a brow—“you seem to be managing my granddaughter quite well.”
Taylor’s brows furrowed in anger. Granny James licked her lips, glad to see that she’d at last gotten a rise out of him.
“If you think that I am managing Harper, then you don’t know your granddaughter very well.”
“Oh, I think I know her far better than you,” she replied haughtily, then elucidated, “Harper is a people pleaser. She gives of herself, especially to those she loves.”
Taylor crossed his arms and looked at Imogene steadily.
“My daughter, Harper’s mother, I’m ashamed to say, is a narcissist. Her love of self and her career is paramount. She has little room for others in her life. Never has had, even as a child. Not even for her own child. She has railroaded that girl to fit her own mold since the day she was born. She used Harper’s gentle, willing nature against her.”
“Abused, don’t you mean?”
Granny James scoffed. “Please. It was not all that unfortunate. She lived a life of privilege. Was well cared for. She was never abused.”
“Neglect can be worse than physical abuse.”
Granny James felt a shaft of shame shoot through her heart. “That’s not true.”
“It is true. As Harper would say, look it up.”
Imogene was shaken and griped her fingers together. “Even if it is true, for all her selfish motives, Georgiana wants the best for her daughter. Harper has had every advantage. My husband and I, too, have seen to it that she will want for nothing.”
“Perhaps nothing material. Things that money can buy. If you’re referring to her trust fund, you do know that Harper already rejected that?”
“To marry you.”
After a challenging silence, Taylor said, “Even before she agreed to one day be my wife, Harper chose her own path. It just happened to be the opposite of what her mother wanted for her.”
“Her mother is a very strong, determined person. Rather, I think, like you.” Imogene paused for effect. “You must know Harper has always let herself be controlled by Georgiana’s will.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure she’s not doing the same with you?”
Taylor’s face went very still, and Imogene knew her words had hit their mark. He paused, put his hands on his hips, and looked at his feet. When he lifted his head to speak, his words were measured. “I admit, I was worried about that.”
Granny James appreciated his honesty. It surprised her, as few things did any longer.
Taylor narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “The difference is, I love her.”
He, too, hit his mark. “I believe you,” Granny James said softly.
Taylor’s face softened.
“However”—Granny James looked him squarely in the eye—“if you truly love her, you’ll let her go. Harper has a brilliant mind. With her education, her connections, her experience and talent, she can rise to the top of her career. Yet you would keep her here? A big fish in a small pond?”
Taylor shifted his weight and clasped his hands behind his back. When a smile cracked his stern expression, Granny James was taken aback.
“I wonder how well you know Harper, after all. Not Harper the child, but the woman she is today. She is not one to be pushed around. That was at the crux of her argument with her mother. Georgiana ordered her to come back to New York. And Harper said no.”
“And you told her to stay. And she said yes.”
Taylor rubbed his jaw and laughed lightly. “She’s not some trained animal who responds to come and stay. Give her some credit. She knows her own mind. She came to the decision to stay here all on her own.”
Imogene shrugged in the Gallic manner that implied we’ll see.
“Mrs. James, are you aware that she doesn’t want to be an editor?”
Imogene’s eyes widened with surprise. “What?”
As though on cue, Harper came out on the porch, her face aglow with happiness. She wore a soft, strapless blush gown that swirled around her slender legs as she made her way across the porch to their sides.
“There you are!” she sang out, immediately linking arms with Taylor. Looking from Imogene to Taylor, she said, “Oh, my, such serious faces. Granny, are you giving my fiancé the third degree? Nails pulled out? Waterboarding? I should warn you, Taylor’s a Marine. He’s trained to withstand such treatment.”
Taylor laughed and patted her hand on his arm. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Granny James looked at Taylor shrewdly and said with a smile to reassure her granddaughter, “He handled himself quite well.”
“We should go. We don’t want to hold up dinner.” Harper reached up on tiptoe to lightly kiss Taylor. “We’re the guests of honor.”
This was her favorite time of a dinner party, Mamaw thought satisfactorily as the catering staff cleared away the last of the plates. When the push of the meal was finished, the dishes were cleared away, and her guests were sated with good food and good wine. Many toasts had been offered tonight, and the conversation had been lively. Now they were ready to settle into brandy or coffee.
Mamaw leaned back in her chair and let her gaze wander from face to face. Girard, Dora, Nate, Taylor, Harper, Carson, Devlin. All of them dear. Her gaze fell on Imogene. Well, almost all, she amended. She wanted to always remember this night, like a photograph that she could bring out from time to time when the girls were gone and she was alone at the retirement home. Her girls were radiant tonight. Her summer girls, she thought with a smile. The dears were thoughtful and had all worn the pearls that she had given them the night of her party when they’d arrived at Sea Breeze in May.
Harper was wearing the triple-strand necklace of gleaming ivory pearls with the ruby-and-diamond clasp. They showed off her creamy complexion perfectly and punctuated the striking red color of her hair. The showy choker made Harper look like a queen tonight, as well she should on this occasion. Tonight was her night. Her face shone with joy and confidence. Mamaw had never before seen her so lovely.
Dora looked chic with her blond hair wound in a French twist and the boat neck of her gorgeous scarlet dress. A perfect accompaniment to the opera-length strand of pearls that dripped down her voluptuous body. Marietta had worn that impressive strand at her wedding and had a special fondness for it. Thirty-six inches of perfectly matched pearls. Over the summer, Dora had gained a luster that was a match for them.
Mamaw’s gaze rested last on Carson. She looked stunning in her burnished-gold dress that clung to her athletic body and contrasted dramatically with her deep tan. Carson was wearing the magnificent baroque-shaped South Seas black pearls that only a woman with a dramatic flair could carry off. Yet tonight, unlike her sisters, Carson behaved less like an exotic flower and more like a wallflower. She was present for the dinner, responded to questions, and laughed at the appropriate times. Yet her usual sharp humor and joie de vivre were gone. She’d refrained from drinking, but she’d spent most of dinner staring at the wineglasses. It worried Mamaw.
Her attention was brought back to her guests by a gasp of indignation from Imogene. Mamaw cringed. That woman had been nothing short of annoying all evening. Imogene had flirted shamelessly with Girard throughout dinner. Mamaw wouldn’t be surpr
ised if the brazen hussy had played footsie with him under the table.
Imogene drew herself up in her chair and glared at Devlin across the table. “What do you mean, the monarchy has no relevance today? I’ll have you know England has had a monarchy long before your country had a democracy, and we’re doing quite well, thank you very much. We may be a small country but we have a proud history. The queen is beloved by her people.”
Devlin shook his head with a laugh that rumbled low in his chest. “Hell, that’s one mare that should be put out to pasture. When’s she going to give her boy a chance? She’s holding on to that scepter like a terrier with a bone.”
Mamaw covered her laugh with a napkin. Not that she agreed with Devlin. She was fond of Queen Elizabeth, a contemporary. But Devlin was being a bit of a devil tonight, and didn’t he know it. He was deliberately playing the good-ol’-boy card, dropping old southern expressions and exaggerating mannerisms, just to rile Imogene.
Imogene lifted her chin with hauteur. “Let me stop you before you mix any more metaphors. You Americans certainly know how to brutalize the English language.”
Devlin guffawed, but others at the table took offense and began grumbling in dissent.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Imogene said.
“Of course you do,” Mamaw replied with a short laugh.
The two grandmothers’ gazes clashed.
Carson leaned over to whisper to Harper, pretending she was keeping score on a napkin. “Mamaw, four . . . Granny, three.”
“If you’ll excuse me”—Imogene lifted her napkin from her lap—“I’ve had a perfectly lovely evening. And this wasn’t it.”
Everyone at the table stopped speaking as Imogene walked out of the room in the manner of the queen they were just discussing.
Mamaw leaned over to Girard but said loud enough for all to hear, “That woman thinks the sun comes up just to hear her crow.”
Nate, who had sat beside his mother and behaved like a perfect gentleman throughout the meal, saw his chance for an escape. “Can I go, too?”
“Yes, you may,” Dora told him. “Thank you for being such a gentleman.”
Harper rose to her feet and skewered Devlin with a glare. “I’m glad someone at this table was a gentleman.”
“Oh, come on, Harper,” Devlin said good-naturedly. “She was grilling us all night. I only gave back a little of what she was dishing out.”
“Harper’s right. She’s a guest in this house, Devlin,” Dora scolded.
“What does that make me?”
Dora caught Devlin’s eye and tried to stop her smile. “Family.”
Devlin sat back in his chair, eyes gleaming.
Harper looked to Mamaw. Her grandmother sat erect in her chair across the table, eyes bright, deliberately silent.
Harper leaned close to Taylor at her right to whisper in his ear, “I’ll be right back. I want to check on her.”
“You sure you’ll be all right? Want me to come with you?” She’d sensed a tension in him tonight, ever since his conversation with Granny James. During dinner she’d seen him glance at her grandmother a few times, as if he were scoping out the enemy.
“Heavens, no. I’ll be right back.” Setting her napkin on the table, Harper hurried to the kitchen after her grandmother.
The caterers were almost finished packing up the food and washing the dishes. The two women and one man, all dressed in black pants and white shirts, moved about the kitchen with focused intent, eager to finish the gig and get out as soon as they could. Granny James was standing at the counter, pouring herself a liberal glass of red wine. Seeing Harper, she reached for a clean glass and lifted it in the air, asking whether Harper would like one.
Harper nodded.
Granny filled the second glass, handed it to Harper, then reached for her own and lifted it high in the air. “That, my dear, is the big question of life. Do you see the glass half empty or half full?”
“Granny, what went on in there?” Harper demanded, feeling her temper spike.
Granny James glanced at the catering staff busy in the room. “Come outside a moment, dear. I could use some fresh air.”
Harper glanced anxiously back toward the dining room, where the hum of voices could be heard. Reluctantly she followed her grandmother to the back porch. She didn’t want to be rude and leave the party but needed a few words with her grandmother. Outside, the night was not much cooler.
“Granny, are you angry or upset?”
“Neither, darling. I just wanted a break.”
“A break? From the performance you gave in there? I’ve never seen you act like that.”
“Like what?” Granny took a sip of her wine.
“Like a bad stereotype of an upper-class British snob.”
Granny laughed, almost spilling her wine. “Me, a stereotype? That’s rich. What about that Devil fellow?”
“His name is Devlin.”
“That man is going to marry your sister? Why, he’s a . . . a redback.”
Harper had to laugh. “You mean a redneck.”
“Either way.” Granny waved her glass in the air.
“Granny, he was just playing with you.” Harper sighed. “You made it so easy.”
Granny James sipped her wine, then said in a superior tone, “I was just playing with them.”
“Were you just playing with Old Man Bellows, as well?” Harper asked smartly.
A sly smile crossed Granny James’s lips. “You mean Girard?” she purred, exaggerating for a moment Mamaw’s southern inflection.
“You know very well I mean Girard. You weren’t exactly subtle with your flirting, Granny. I thought Mamaw was going to bust a gut.”
Granny James laughed and smiled like the cat that ate the canary. “Yes, she was, wasn’t she?”
“I suppose that was deliberate, too?”
“Of course. She can be so smug. It wasn’t exactly work, though.” Granny swirled her wine. “That Girard is certainly a handsome man.”
Harper laughed at her grandmother’s antics, even while trying to keep her features stern. She threw up her hands in frustration as she laughed. Suddenly her laughter shifted to tears.
Granny James set her wineglass down and placed her hands on Harper’s arms. “What’s the matter, darling?”
“You’re what’s the matter!” Harper dropped her hands, pouting like the little girl she didn’t want to be seen as. Especially not tonight. Especially not in front of her grandmother. “I was so glad that you were here with me to share my engagement. But I’m afraid you’ve gone and ruined everything.”
“I am sorry that you’re hurt,” Granny James said gently, letting her hand rub Harper’s arm consolingly. “And perhaps I did go too far.” She paused and let her hands drop. “But I am not sorry that I gave your young man the grill, as you put it.” She paused to pat her hair smooth. “You should know,” she said, “he passed with flying colors.”
Harper’s head shot up. “He did?”
Granny James smiled. “I was hard on him. Asked the tough questions. That is my duty as your grandmother, after all.”
“And?”
“He’s a fine young man. Proud, confident. There’s something about his presence that demands respect. Most of all, I believe he loves you very much. If he is your choice, my dear, I believe he deserves you. You have my blessing.”
“Oh, Granny.” Harper impulsively hugged her.
“My,” Granny said, flustered by the hug, “you certainly have become quite affectionate.”
“I have.” Harper hiccuped, trying not to cry. “I’m a girl in love. And I love you, too.”
Granny put her hand on Harper’s cheek. “And I love you. Now let’s return to the table before we get too maudlin, shall we? I promise to be on my best behavior. See?” Granny drained the rest of her wineglass. “The lion has turned into the lamb.”
All chatter at the table stopped when Harper and Granny James strolled back into the dining room carrying a tray of cha
mpagne glasses, chocolates, Marcona almonds, and a bottle of champagne. Harper and Granny James were all smiles.
At the table, Mamaw and Girard exchanged a glance. She looked around the table to see the others with equally puzzled expressions at the obvious change of mood. Still, she felt a huge relief that a peace had obviously been made.
“More champagne?” Mamaw said. “Dear me, I don’t think I can drink any more.”
“Just one more toast!” Granny James exclaimed, handing the bottle to Taylor. “Dear boy, do you think you could do the honors?” She arched her brow teasingly. “You certainly seem strong enough.” As Taylor easily popped off the cork, Granny James exclaimed, “Delightful sound! My favorite.”
Devlin winked at Dora.
Imogene began walking from person to person, gaily filling glasses with champagne.
“We’ve heard many toasts for the happy couple tonight,” she began when she had finished making her rounds. She cast a pointed look at Devlin. “Some more colorful than others.”
Devlin had the grace to laugh, and the ice was broken.
“But I’ve yet to make a toast.”
Mamaw leaned forward in her seat. She saw Carson and Dora exchange a quick glance of worry.
Imogene paused a moment to smile dotingly on Harper. “Harper is my only grandchild. I am not as fortunate as Marietta to have three such lovely granddaughters. So you’ll forgive me, I hope, if I’ve been, shall we say, inquisitive?”
“The Grand Inquisition is more like it,” Mamaw murmured.
A soft, if surprised, laughter of acknowledgment followed at the table. Relieved at the note of humor in Imogene’s voice, Mamaw joined in.
“The news of the engagement was a surprise, as you can imagine,” Imogene continued in a more serious tone. “Engaged! I hadn’t even heard Harper mention the name Taylor McClellan. So I packed my bag and crossed the pond to see for myself if my only granddaughter’s future was in safe hands.” Imogene turned to Taylor.
Taylor looked back at her, sitting erect in his chair, shoulders back, poised like a cat about to pounce, Mamaw thought. If he had a tail, it’d be whipping back and forth.
“We had a little chat, Taylor and I.” Imogene smiled warmly. “And indeed, her future is in good hands. Good, loving”—Granny smirked—“strong hands.”
The Summer's End Page 29