by Beverly Farr
Derek listened, glad that someone in Ginny’s life had been kind to her. From what he surmised, Miranda had been too busy with her own life to be anything but a superficial parent – quick to criticize, and offering no real warmth.
He thought Ginny had finished sharing memories, but then she added softly, “They had a dog, too. A friendly Golden Labrador named Prince.” She paused. “I loved that dog. He died when I was in high school. I must have cried for a week.”
She stood for a moment, staring, but not seeing anything, then seemed to suddenly remember where she was, and why she’d come. She straightened her shoulders. “Forgive me for getting maudlin,” she said briskly. “This is your house now, and it looks like you’ve done an excellent job remodeling it. Have you hired an interior designer?”
She was back to business now, Ginny the professional -- cool and disciplined. Derek named the man he had hired.
She made a face. “I hope you like purple.”
“Why?”
“Oops, I shouldn’t have said that. Professional courtesy.” She pinched the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache. “I must be more tired than I thought.”
“But?” he prompted.
She let her breath out slowly in a sigh. “Your designer wins a lot of awards and has a huge client base, but I’ve seen his work, and in every room there is something purple. Sometimes it works, and other times --” She let the sentence trail off meaningfully.
“Maybe someone stole his purple crayon in kindergarten.”
Ginny laughed, then smothered it, as if not wanting to fraternize with the enemy. She coughed. “You have a lovely house, and I could spend hours looking through it, but that won’t solve our problem.”
It was fascinating to see the way her mind worked, jumping rapidly from weariness, to laughter, then back to emotional detachment. “I was under the impression that you were the one with a problem, not I.”
She stiffened. “There’s no point in beating around the bush.”
“No, that was never your style with me. Going for the jugular, perhaps, but not avoiding things. So shoot.”
She glared at him, and he grinned. He enjoyed sparring with her. “That was a bad choice of words,” he said. “I don’t want to give you any ideas. Go ahead. Bare your soul.”
She folded her arms in front of herself defensively. He could tell that she had no intention of baring anything. She said, “My mother doesn’t know that we were married before.”
“I gathered that.”
“And I don’t want you telling her now.”
Derek whistled. “It’s been over nine years and you’ve never gathered the courage to tell her?”
“You don’t understand. It’s not that easy.”
“Does anyone know we were married?”
She didn’t answer.
“How about your fiancé? Don’t you think he should know?”
She clenched her teeth. “It was hardly a marriage. It didn’t last long enough to be called a marriage. Getting the divorce finalized took longer than the time we were together. It was a momentary aberration, nothing more.”
Was she trying to convince him or herself? “Four months is hardly momentary.”
“Three months.”
“I’m not going to quibble over days,” he said reasonably. “So you haven’t told anyone. Fine. I don’t plan on making any announcements from the roof tops, either.”
“You’ll keep your mouth shut?”
“I said I would.”
She looked as if she wasn’t sure she could trust him, then said coolly, “Thank you. I appreciate your silence on this matter.”
She sounded like one of his attorneys. He waited.
She took a deep breath. “There’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“My mother.”
“The charming Miranda.” For some reason, he’d remembered her name as Amanda, but then Ginny had revealed very little about her family when they were together.
Her eyebrows rose. “You like her?”
“As an entrepreneur, I admire the packaging. She could brand herself as the Texas mantrap.”
“There’s no need to be rude.”
“No, I don’t mean to put her down. I’m just saying that I can see why she’s so successful. She’s an attractive woman, and that ‘you Tarzan, me Jane’ routine must be very effective with a certain percentage of the male population.”
“I want you to leave her alone.”
Did she honestly think he had any interest in her mother? It was absurd. Derek laughed. “You’re talking to the wrong person, Ginny.”
“You encouraged her tonight.”
Derek shrugged. “A little, perhaps. I always wanted to meet my ex-mother in law.”
“You’ve met her. Now leave her alone.”
“Trust me. I have no intention of becoming husband number five.”
#
Two days later, Ginny sat with Phillip at one of their favorite restaurants, a quiet Italian diner less than a mile from her office. They placed their order and chatted while they waited.
“What’s that you’re drawing?” Phillip asked.
Ginny startled. She’d been doodling with her fork on her cloth napkin. It was a floor plan of Derek’s formal living room. She’d been debating whether the couch should be under the window or closer to the fireplace. She placed the napkin in her lap, smoothing it over her skirt, determined to put the man and his house out of her mind.
“You know me, always working,” she murmured, forcing herself to pay attention to Phillip. He didn’t have Derek’s height or his dramatic looks, but he was a good man, and handsome in his own way -- a distinguished, well-dressed man going gray at the temples. She smiled. “What were you saying?”
“Gillespie is hinting that he might retire.”
“That would open up the department chair position, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, but Administration may want to bring in someone from another university.”
“You’d like to be chair, wouldn’t you?”
“Naturally, I’d like it, but I’m happy where I am.”
Phillip was happy, she realized. He was the most content person she’d ever met -- that’s why she’d been drawn to him. He was not a fighter like Derek. Derek was never satisfied, always wanting more. Phillip appreciated what he had. Her mother thought that kind of peacefulness boring, but to Ginny, it was a welcome harbor.
Meeting Derek again had stirred up all the old feelings and resentments, and having lunch with Phillip was just what she needed to calm down, to get her life back on track.
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Especially today. I like sitting with the most beautiful woman in the room.”
Phillip’s flattery was pleasing, but sometimes it was embarrassing. She changed the subject. “I finished my detailed proposal for The Retreat annex. I’ll be presenting it to the Committee next week.”
“Good. That’s been a huge project. You’ll be glad when it’s over.”
“Yes.” She was flattered to have been given the opportunity to compete, but until the final decision was made, she’d second-guess herself, wondering if there was more she could have done.
The Retreat was one of the oldest hotels in downtown Dallas. A year before, the owners had purchased an office building next door. They leveled the place and were building an annex that would triple the number of rooms they could offer. Interior designers from all over the country had submitted proposals. A month ago, she learned that she was one of the four finalists.
“Did you use the same red and gold color scheme as the old lobby?” Phillip asked.
“No, it would be cost prohibitive to try to duplicate that Baroque style. I tried to create a lighter, more open feeling, appealing to a younger crowd.” She smiled wryly. “Still elegant, of course.”
“Of course.” He smiled as the server brought their entrees. He took a bite of his fish, and then asked, “You haven’t mention
ed the bridal shower. How was it?”
Other than having my mother flirt with my ex-husband? “It was good to see many of the women I grew up with, but there were a lot of silly party games. Be glad you missed it.”
“I don’t mind silly now and then.”
Ginny looked into his clear, honest gaze, and felt guilty. She should tell him about Derek. It wasn’t fair to marry a man without telling him that she had been married before.
The problem was that Phillip had been married before, too, and his wife Barbara had died from breast cancer. It made her short marriage with its problems seem trite in comparison. It was embarrassing, humiliating. What would she say when he asked what went wrong? We were starving students, and we fought about money?
But it had been more than that – a mess of unreasonable expectations and lack of trust.
She took a deep breath. She would tell him right now, right away. “One interesting thing happened,” she said bravely. “Miranda’s new neighbor Derek Landon dropped in for some cake. He’s the president of Midas Online Auctions.”
Phillip nodded. “They relocated to Dallas, didn’t they?”
“Yes, but that isn’t –”
Phillip waved his fork for emphasis. “That’s another possibility for you. Even if they’re just renting the space, they’ll need furniture and things. You could decorate their offices. And if he’s Miranda’s neighbor, you already have a connection.”
Ginny frowned. Phillip had no idea how many connections they’d had. Ever since she’d seen Derek again, her mind had relived their marriage, over and over. She was distracted at work and sleeping poorly. “I’m sure they’ve already moved in,” she mumbled, her courage faltering.
“Better luck next time,” he said cheerfully. He took another bite. “This sole is very good today.” He frowned, looking at her plate. “You’re not eating. Is something wrong with your fettuccini?”
“No, it’s fine.” She dutifully took a bite of the creamy noodles.
“Oh, and before I forget, I picked up a little something for you.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet jewelry box. He placed it on the table and slid it over to her side.
“Phillip, you shouldn’t have.”
“Why not? You’re going to be my wife in a month, and I like giving presents.”
She opened the box. It contained a charm bracelet with thick silver links. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“You see that it has a few charms already.”
She saw that there was a heart with their initials engraved on it, the state of Texas, an open book, and a little miniature couch, presumably to represent her work.
He continued, “Later, I can add to it. A little tree for our first Christmas together, and I hope, a little bootie or rattle when our first baby’s born.”
Our first baby. Her heart tightened. Phillip was a dear man, and more sentimental than she in some ways. He was a vast improvement over Derek who didn’t have a sentimental bone in his body.
She remembered that second month when the landlord came to collect the rent for their tiny basement apartment, and they didn’t have it. They sat quietly in the darkness, pretending they weren’t home, and later Derek went to the pawnshop to hawk his wedding ring.
“You can’t!” she’d protested.
“Why not? It’s just a little piece of metal, Ginny. Not worth crying about. And as soon as I finish that computer program for Ted and get paid, I’ll redeem it.”
Now, looking back, she couldn’t remember if he’d ever redeemed it. By the time Ted paid him, they had already separated.
As for her wedding ring, she’d thrown it at him when she left. He’d probably hawked it as well.
“Which would you like first?” Phillip asked.
The rapid change from the past to present was disorienting. Ginny blinked as she absent mindedly twisted her engagement ring. “I beg your pardon?”
“A boy or a girl?”
A baby. He was still talking about a baby. Since Phillip was thirteen years older than she, they’d decided not to put off having children. “Either will be fine with me,” she said honestly, trying to imagine having a child. It was what she wanted, but it would be a big change.
But Phillip would be a good, reliable father. He would be quiet and calm, rarely losing his temper.
Her cell phone vibrated, and she saw that the call was from her mother. Her mother refused to text because it would ruin her nails. “It’s Miranda. Maybe there’s been some problem with the caterers.” This week they were finalizing the plans for the wedding rehearsal dinner.
“Go ahead,” Phillip said.
“Hello, this is Ginny.”
“Virginia, darling. I’m thinking of selling the painting that used to hang in the front hall. You know, the one Nicholas picked up in Albuquerque.”
Ginny tried to remember. “An abstract landscape with a lot of yellow green?”
“That’s the one. You don’t mind if I sell it, do you?”
Warning bells starting ringing in Ginny’s head. “Sell it where?”
“On Midas, where else?”
She should have known. Once her mother got an idea, she ran with it. Midas Online Auctions would be her new toy.
Miranda continued, “You don’t have any emotional attachments to it, do you?”
That seemed a strange question for her mother to ask. “No,” Ginny said slowly. “Why? Is Derek with you?”
Miranda gave a tinkling laugh. “I traded him a plate of homemade cookies for some personal Midas training.”
Ginny swore under her breath. Derek and his sweet tooth. She should have known. She was tempted to tell him that Miranda’s “homemade” cookies were delivered from a bakery in Highland Park Village.
“Is something wrong?” Miranda asked.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” she lied. “Do what you want. Talk to you later.” She disconnected the call, her hands shaking.
That snake. Derek had promised -- she stopped herself. She thought back and realized that he had made no promises. She had merely assumed that he’d leave her mother alone, as she requested. All he had said was that he wouldn’t be husband number five. That still gave him a lot of room to maneuver.
Phillip leaned forward. “What’s the problem?”
“I’m not sure there is a problem, yet. Derek Landon is helping Miranda sell things on Midas.”
“And you’re afraid she’s going to unload the family heirlooms.”
Ginny shook her head. “Truthfully, there aren’t many of those. Every time Miranda gets married or divorced, she cleans house, redecorating from top to bottom.”
“Is that what inspired you to become an interior designer?”
“Perhaps.” She still couldn’t believe Derek was at Miranda’s house. Why was he there? What did he have to gain? Would he tell her mother about their brief marriage?
“Are you worried she’ll lose money?”
“No, I’m not worried about her furniture and things. She can do whatever she wants with her stuff. She bought it; she can sell it. She can give it away, for all I care. It has nothing to do with me.”
“That’s a mature attitude.”
She looked at him sharply, wondering for a moment if he was mocking her, but Phillip never mocked. “Thank you.”
“So what’s troubling -- oh. Landon,” he guessed.
Ginny’s eyes widened. Had she given herself away?
“Isn’t he a little young for Miranda?”
“That’s not an issue. She barely knows him.”
“Miranda’s a fast worker.”
She looked at Phillip suspiciously. Miranda often said disparaging comments about Phillip, but she’d never heard him say anything less than complimentary about her.
He was merely stating facts, she realized. Miranda was a fast worker. She’d been widowed nearly two years, and she wasn’t a person who liked to live alone. She liked to be surrounded by people, the center of attention. Why wouldn’t
she want to snag Derek?
Ginny pushed herself away from the table. “I think I’ll cut lunch short and swing by her house, just to see what’s going on.”
“Would you like me to come with you for moral support?”
“I’d like that, yes.”
He followed her in his car and parked in front of Miranda’s house. Together they walked up the stone path. “I’m probably overreacting, worrying about nothing,” Ginny said. “So if she asks, you’ve come to get her advice for the honeymoon.”
“I have?”
“The location, hotel recommendations, that sort of thing.”
“Good. For a moment there, I thought you were suggesting we talk about sex.”
Ginny looked at him sideways, her eyes narrowed. Was Phillip making a joke? She knocked on the front door.
Crandall, as always, was pleased to see her. “Miss Ginny,” he said pleasantly, and then added a cool, “Good afternoon, Mr. Stewart. Miranda is in her office.” Ginny wondered if Crandall would still call Phillip “Mr. Stewart” after they were married.
As they walked down the hallway, Phillip said, “This is a beautiful house.”
Ginny had heard similar praise for Miranda’s house all her life. “Yes, it is.”
“Did you do any of the decorating?”
“No, it’s totally Miranda’s creation.”
“Will you inherit it some day?”
If she didn’t know better, she’d think Phillip was being mercenary. “Don’t count on it,” she said lightly. “Miranda plans to live to be a hundred, and when she finally goes, I wouldn’t be surprised if she puts something in the will about being buried in the sunroom.”
Crandall gave a little snort that sounded like a sneeze. “I’ll announce you.”
#
Derek sat next to Miranda in front of her computer screen. The floor was littered with cardboard boxes and packing wrap. An ugly landscape painting rested against one wall of floor to ceiling bookcases. He startled as the butler said, “Miss Ginny and Mr. Stewart, Ma’am.”
Miranda turned around. “What a pleasant surprise. Introduce yourselves and then come look at all my new things!”
Derek made himself stand and walk toward them, hand outstretched. “I’m Derek Landon.”