How had it happened so quickly? How had he fallen so hard for a woman he’d known for years? The questions continued to plague him later that night as he lay on the sofa bed waiting for sleep to overtake him, when he didn’t have to think of the woman who made him plan for a future that included her as his wife and the mother of their children.
Chapter 13
Griffin’s hands drummed rhythmically on the steering wheel when he stopped for a red light, mimicking the hand clapping in “Hand Jive,” the infectious song from the classic musical Grease.
He’d come to know most of the words from the play over the past month because Layla and Sabrina had decided to participate in their school’s musical production for the first time. Layla had auditioned for a singing part in the production, while Sabrina worked behind the scenes, using her budding artistic skill on set decorations.
They stayed after classes to rehearse and as the day for the actual performance neared they’d begun full-day weekend rehearsals.
Belinda had scoured Philadelphia’s thrift and vintage shops for replicas of poodle skirts and saddle shoes. In the end she had to resort to the internet to gather the names of collectors of 1950s memorabilia. Her perseverance paid off, because she’d purchased an authentic poodle skirt and a pair of black-and-white saddle shoes that were a perfect fit for Layla.
He’d made arrangements with his mother for her granddaughters to spend the night with her. Gloria and Lucas had returned from their month-long vacation cruise tanned, relaxed and looking forward to spending time with their granddaughters.
Layla leaned forward in her seat and tapped Griffin’s shoulder. “Uncle Griff, please repeat that track.”
Griffin pressed a button on the dashboard, tapped his finger on the steering wheel while the interior of the car was filled with the catchy tune. Layla and Sabrina shared a smile when their uncle’s voice joined theirs. They’d always liked their Uncle Griff, but since he’d become their stepfather they’d come to love him as if he were their father.
They went to him to enlist his aid when they wanted something they knew their aunt would probably not approve of. His “I’ll discuss it with her” usually predicted success, if not a compromise which they were always ready to accept.
Griffin took a right turn down the street that led to Gloria Rice’s condo. “Make certain you finish your homework before your aunt and I pick you up tomorrow night.”
“We will,” the two girls chorused.
He and Belinda were scheduled to attend a political fundraiser later that evening and Saturday evening Sabrina and Layla were invited to a birthday sleep-over for a classmate who lived nearby.
Maneuvering into a space set aside for visitor parking, Griffin shut off the engine. The girls gathered their overnight bags and together they made their way to the modern doorman building. He gave his name to the uniformed man who rang Gloria’s apartment to let her know that she had visitors.
“She’s expecting you, Mr. Rice. The elevator to her apartment is on the right.”
Sabrina, waiting until the elevator doors closed behind them said, “Why does he have to say ‘she’s expecting you, Mr. Rice’ when he already knows you’re Grandma’s son?”
Griffin gave his niece a direct stare. “That’s what’s known as doing one’s job. He has rules or a protocol to follow, and no matter who comes into the building he has to follow the rule that all visitors must be announced.”
“It sounds like a silly rule to me,” Layla mumbled under her breath.
“Would it be so silly if he let someone into the building whose intent is to rob or hurt a tenant?” Griffin asked.
“No, Uncle Griff, that’s different,” Layla argued.
“No, it isn’t, Layla. What if someone who looks exactly like me decides he wants to burglarize Grandma’s apartment and the doorman just let him walk in. Legally the owner of the building would be responsible for the loss because the doormen are his employees.”
The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened smoothly. Griffin stepped out, holding the door while his nieces filed out and made their way down the carpeted hallway to where Gloria stood outside the door waiting for them. Cradling their faces between her hands, she kissed each girl on the cheek. Griffin wanted to tell his mother that her granddaughters had reached the age where they shied away from public displays of affection, but decided to hold his tongue.
Leaning over, he kissed his mother. “Hey, beautiful.”
Gloria swatted at his shoulder. “Save that stuff for someone who isn’t as gullible as your mother.”
Griffin smiled at her. “When have you known me to lie?”
Gloria angled her head, seemingly deep in thought. “Not too often.” Her expression brightened. “Can you spare a few minutes to share a cup of coffee with your mother, or do you have to run?”
“I have some time.”
“Come sit in the kitchen while I brew a cup.”
Slipping off his jacket, Griffin hung it on the coat tree near the door. He’d come with Gloria when she talked about purchasing a unit either in a renovated or new building going up in the gentrified Spring Garden neighborhood. He’d wanted her to purchase the one-bedroom unit, but Gloria had insisted that she needed the additional bedroom for whenever her granddaughters came for a visit. Layla and Sabrina loved visiting because it was closer to downtown Philadelphia with its theaters, museums, restaurants, department stores and specialty shops.
Gloria Rice had downsized her life and the furnishings in her apartment reflected her new lifestyle. Every piece of furniture had a purpose and the pale monochromatic color scheme reflected simplicity at its best.
Griffin followed his mother into an immaculate ultramodern stainless-steel kitchen. “What are you cooking for dinner?”
“I’m not,” Gloria said as she reached for a coffee pod from a rack on the countertop. “I asked the girls what they wanted me to cook and they said they wanted to eat out.”
“Have you decided where?”
Gloria’s eyes sparkled when she smiled. “I told them it can be their choice.”
“You’re spoiling them, Mom.”
“And you don’t, son? I’m their grandmother and that gives me the right to spoil them rotten. You, on the other hand, don’t have the same rights.”
Griffin stared at his mother dressed in a stylish linen pantsuit. The reddish-orange color flattered the former librarian’s dark complexion. “As a dad I do.”
Reaching for a cup in an overhead cabinet, Gloria placed it under the coffee-brewing machine then pushed a button to start the process. “You enjoy being a father.” The question was a statement.
Bending his tall body to fit into the chair in the dining nook, Griffin nodded. “I do. At first I kept telling myself that I couldn’t do it, that I’d fail miserably, but thanks to Belinda I’ve been holding my own.”
Resting a hip against a granite-topped countertop, Gloria met her son’s direct stare. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m going to anyway. Belinda’s a better mother than her sister. Donna was totally disorganized and much too lax with her daughters. When I told her that the girls left their clothes wherever they stepped out of them her excuse was that was what she was there for—to pick up after them.”
“Belinda changed that, Mom.”
“I know. Layla called me when she got her cell phone to tell me about her new bedroom and study area. She also said she had to keep her room clean otherwise she and Sabrina would lose certain privileges.”
Griffin nodded. “At first I thought Belinda was being a little too strict, but unlike Donna she’s not a stay-at-home mother. She has enough to deal with at the high school without having to come home and pick up after teenagers.”
There was only the sound of brewing coffee as mother and son regarded each other. “She�
��s good for the girls and she’s good for you,” Gloria said after a comfortable pause.
“Belinda’s an incredible mother, and an even more incredible woman.”
“I take it you like her.” Griffin closed his eyes and when he opened them they were filled with an emotion Gloria had never seen before. There was no doubt her son was taken with his nieces’ godmother.
“It goes beyond liking, Mom. I’m in love with Belinda.”
“Does she know it?”
Griffin shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“When are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I’m waiting for the right time.”
“There’s never a right time when it comes to affairs of the heart, Griffin Rice. You wait too long and you’re going to lose her.”
“I’m not going to lose her.”
“Why? Because you say so?”
A muscle quivered at Griffin’s jaw. “No. Because it’s not going to happen.”
Gloria saw movement out of the corner of her eye. “What is it, Sabrina?”
“Layla wants chicken and waffles and I want a hamburger.”
“Don’t worry, sweets. We’ll find a restaurant where Layla can get her chicken and waffles and you your burger.”
“Thank you, Grandma.”
“You’re welcome, Sabrina. I can’t believe they’re growing up so quickly,” Gloria remarked after Sabrina returned to the spare bedroom she shared with her sister whenever they came to visit.
“That’s what frightens me, Mom. What am I going to do when the boys come knocking on the door?”
“You’ll know what to do when the time comes.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Do you think it’d be any easier if they were boys?” Gloria asked.
“Yeah, I think so. At least I’d be able to tell them what not to do.”
Gloria added a teaspoon of sugar and a splash of cream to the cup when the brewing cycle ended, handing it to her son. “Stop stressing yourself, Griffin. Everything will work out okay.”
Gloria’s “everything will work out okay” played over and over in Griffin’s head during his return drive to Belinda’s house. And, when he opened the door to find her standing in the middle of her bedroom in her underwear, he told himself that his mother was right. As long as he had Belinda in his life he didn’t have anything to worry about.
Crossing the room, he brushed a kiss over her mouth. “I’ll be ready as soon as I shave and shower.”
* * *
Belinda walked into the grand ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton, her hand tucked in the bend of Griffin’s elbow over the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket. The night was warm enough for her to drape just a silk shawl over the customary little black dress. The one-shoulder satin-organza with a generous front slit showed off her legs and matching Christian Louboutin four-inch pumps with each step. Her stylist had cut her hair, and it highlighted the roundness of her face when it feathered around her delicate jawline.
She’d taken special care with her makeup, applying smoky and raspberry colors to her lids, cheeks and lips. It had been a while since her last black-tie affair, and it was fun to dress up for the event.
Griffin was breathtakingly, drop-dead gorgeous, and as comfortable in formal attire as he was in casual clothes. He’d elected to wear a platinum-tone silk tie with his tuxedo rather than the usual black.
The event was to raise funds for an up-and-coming politician who’d announced his intent to challenge the controversial, but very popular incumbent mayor. It wasn’t until Belinda was introduced to the charismatic mayoral candidate that she learned that he and Griffin had attended law school together. Griffin had graduated first and the candidate number two in their class.
Patrick Garson’s dark blue eyes took in everything about the woman beside Griffin Rice in one sweeping glance. Reaching for her hands, he brought one hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Lovely. You are simply lovely—”
“Belinda,” Griffin supplied. “Her name is Belinda Eaton. Belinda, this is my good friend and hopefully the next mayor of Philadelphia, Patrick Garson.”
Belinda smiled and mouthed the appropriate responses. There was something about Patrick Garson that was too perfect. Not a strand was out of place in his wavy honey-blond hair. Even his sandy-brown eyebrows were perfect, and Belinda wondered whether he had them plucked or waxed. She approved of metrosexual men, but she believed men like Patrick were apt to spend a little too much time in the mirror.
“Pat, darling. Oh, there you are,” a woman drawled with a thick Southern inflection.
Belinda turned to find a statuesque blonde heading in their direction. The light from the chandeliers overhead glinted off the large solitaire on her left hand. Smiling, she looped her arm through Patrick’s.
Barbie and Ken. A knowing smile touched Belinda’s lips. Patrick and the woman who probably was his fiancée were the perfect prototypes for the popular dolls.
Her topaz-blue eyes lit up when she spied Griffin. “Griff, darling. How are you?”
Griffin touched his cheek to hers. “I’m good, Jessica. How are you?”
Holding out her arms, Jessica spun around on her designer stilettos. “As you can see, I’m really good. It was a bitch trying to lose the last ten pounds, but I did it.”
Belinda stared at Jessica, stunned. The woman was practically skin and bones. She was at least five-eleven in her bare feet, and probably weighed less than Belinda.
Wrapping an arm around Belinda’s waist, Griffin pulled her against his length. “Belinda, I’d like to introduce you to another of my law school friends. This is Jessica Ricci, Pat’s fiancée and hopefully the next first lady of Philadelphia. Jessica, Belinda Eaton.”
Jessica flashed her practiced smile, exhibiting a mouth of perfect porcelain veneers. “I’m charmed to meet you, Belinda. Please call me Jessie. Jessica sounds so staid.”
Belinda couldn’t help but return the friendly infectious smile that crinkled the blonde’s brilliant eyes. “Then Jessie it is.”
“Are you a lawyer, too?” she drawled.
“No. I’m a teacher.”
“Do you teach the little babies?”
Shaking her head and smiling, Belinda said, “No. I teach at the high school level.”
“How do you keep the boys from coming on to you?”
Belinda felt the heat from Griffin’s gaze when he stared at her. It was the same question he’d put to her, what seemed so long ago. “I don’t entertain their advances.”
Griffin’s fingers tightened. “Belinda and I are going to get something from the bar, then we’re going to circulate. I’ll call you later, Pat, and we’ll set up something where the four of us can get together without reporters and photographers shadowing you.”
Patrick patted Griffin’s shoulder. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
“Thanks,” Belinda whispered under her breath as Griffin led her across the ballroom to one of three bars set up around the perimeter.
“I should’ve warned you about Jessica. She’s a little chatty, but she’s perfect for Patrick.”
“They remind me of Ken and Barbie dolls.”
Griffin chuckled. “One time we had a Halloween party and they came dressed as Ken and Barbie.”
“Does she have an eating disorder?”
“No. She had an accident several years back, and a doctor put her on cortisone, which made her put on about fifty pounds. She finally came off the medication and it took two years of diet and exercise to lose the weight.”
“Are you supporting him because he’s a friend, or because you feel he’s the best candidate for the office?”
“Both,” Griffin stated emphatically. “Patrick has one of the most brilliant minds of anyone I’v
e met or known. He would make a very good mayor.” His gaze lingered on Belinda’s mouth. Patrick had called her lovely—and that she was. “Now, what can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have a white wine.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Are you sure you don’t want anything stronger?”
“Very sure, darling. I’ve appointed myself the designated driver for tonight, so I don’t want to overdo it.”
Griffin leaned closer. “I’m going to have to have one drink, so you don’t have to worry about my being impaired.”
“I’ll still have the white...” Her words trailed off when she spied someone she hadn’t seen in years. “Excuse me, Griffin. I’ll be right back.”
He stood motionless, watching Belinda as she wove her way through the throng crowding in the ballroom. He wasn’t aware that he’d been holding his breath until he saw her talking to a woman who looked vaguely familiar.
* * *
Belinda tapped the shoulder of a woman with skin the color of palomino-gold. Surprise, then shock froze the features of Zabrina Cooper when she turned around.
“Belinda.”
“Zabrina Mixon.” There was no emotion in Belinda’s voice.
“It’s Cooper. I’ve gone back to using my maiden name.”
Belinda stared at the incredibly beautiful woman who, if she’d married Myles, would’ve become her sister-in-law. But weeks before they were scheduled to exchange vows, Zabrina ended the engagement and married a much older man—a prominent Pennsylvania politician. And when she gave birth to a son nine months later, rumors were rampant that she’d been sleeping with Thomas Cooper while engaged to Myles Eaton.
Belinda wanted to hate the woman who’d embarrassed her family and broken her brother’s heart. She’d felt personally responsible for the breakup, because she’d been the one to introduce her then-best friend to her brother.
“I’m sorry to hear about your husband.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Belinda. It’s Adam who needs your sympathy. It’s not easy for a ten-year-old to adjust to losing his father.”
Forever an Eaton: Bittersweet LoveSweet Deception Page 16