He’d make sure she’d be okay.
She stumbled past him, her makeup not quite off, wearing his pajama top. She pulled the sheets every which way, looking for something before she flopped on the bed faceup. Her left foot was planted on the ground.
Oh yeah, her headache was going to be a doozy.
He washed up and kept his eyes on her in the mirror. Satisfied she was all right, he sat in bed and scanned his business email on his cell phone. A message from George Hughes, an attorney he was friends with from England, sat in his inbox. He sent George a quick note to tell him the arrangements were completed as planned and wished him luck at tomorrow’s auction. George’s clients wanted to obtain original pieces that belonged to their centuries-old Fayne Manor estate. Morgan had introduced George to Margot. With the help of her father’s contacts, she found a piece in excellent condition that was scheduled to go up for auction tomorrow at the prestigious Boyles Auction House in New York City.
There was a message from Eloise, his sister-in-law. She sent a new picture of baby Lily along with a note wishing him luck. He glanced at Margot, her long hair spread over the pillow, and he knew he was doing the right thing.
He hoped she agreed with him.
He turned off the light and slid between the sheets. He put his hands behind his head. His eyes focused on the blinking red dot on the ceiling smoke detector but his mind raced. He’d never fall asleep. He thought of all the things Gabe had asked him to handle for the weekend. Now, with the band canceling, Gabe had asked him for help with the contract. His pre-wedding list was expanding.
Alan, his brother, had expanded their technology company and opened an office on Star Island off the coast of St. Thomas. It was a great place for Alan and Eloise to raise Lily. He knew they’d both be great parents. When he and Margot visited them, he got a taste of family life and knew that’s what he’d been working toward. When they were packing to leave, Alan had spoken to him. He’d decided he’d speak to Margot. Several times he tried to bring up the subject while they waited at the airport.
Airport. Gabe’s list. How had his mind wandered onto Star Island and Margot? In the morning he needed to confirm the airport pickups with the driver. Margot’s gentle snort distracted him. He checked to make sure she was all right. The crease on her brow had smoothed and her eyelids fluttered in her sleep. He hoped she dreamed of their time with Alan and Eloise and playing with Lily.
He was a lucky man.
She understood his dry sense of humor and knew how to cajole him out of his attorney mind-set. He hadn’t expected their trip to Star Island to be such a revelation for him. She flew to the island and pitched right in when the baby’s nurse had needed to cancel. He’d had no idea she knew what to do with a baby, but she was a natural. It was easy to see her as a mother even though neither of them had mentioned wanting a family.
Shit, he hadn’t known he wanted a family until he watched her with little Lily. A father. He was hardworking and would be a great dad. Her father was hardworking and a well-established trial attorney who loved antiques second only to his wife and daughter. The antiques shop had been his hobby. Margot was his one employee. When her parents retired to the south of France, it was natural for Margot to take over the shop. It was a bargain.
He met Margot at the bargaining table. Her father didn’t want to turn the business over to her until she went over all the papers with an independent attorney. Morgan was a magnet for on-the-spot legal questions from friends and family. He’d grown used to it. Not that he liked it, but it came in small print on the bottom of his law school diploma. Ad quaestionem respondendum religiose a familiae et amicis—gratis. Mrs. Ball, his middle school Latin teacher, would cringe at that translation. Morgan had groaned when Gabe stopped him after their softball game and told him Viv’s close friend needed legal counsel on a business deal. His list was filled—the list, goddamn it. Stay on message, Morgan. Five minutes, that’s all he needed to get his thoughts organized.
Tomorrow, he’d get the band contract from Gabe and review the cancelation clause. He was sure he could get Viv and Gabe a better settlement. That would take a few hours. A few hours, that’s how long it had taken for Margot to send over all her legal papers after she hired him. Two days later he met her, right before they sat with her dad. The agreement her father proposed was fair, but he’d argued a better one for her.
Over the next several months they met over dinner—sometimes pizza, other times the cheap French restaurant near her antiques shop—and hammered out the corporate papers and tax implications. Long after the last t was crossed and i dotted, they were still meeting for dinner.
She’d made it clear from the start she didn’t want a commitment. Too busy with the business, she’d said. A relationship wasn’t her priority. He was sure something else was behind it but gave her space.
He’d been right. One night, after softball, before he and Margot moved into their apartment together, Gabe had offered the information. The guy, Zack, must have been blind.
Well, Zack’s loss was Morgan’s gain.
Everything went along fine. They moved in together eight years ago. Neither of them had any complaints.
The flash of his cell phone display caught his attention. It was updating. He reached over and placed it facedown. Margot mumbled in her sleep and turned onto her side, nuzzling next to him. He moved the hair out of her eyes. She didn’t budge. He’d hoped she’d wake so they could pick up where Dave had interrupted.
No chance of that now.
He let out a deep sigh. Alan had told him to man up and face the issue head-on. He’d been testing the waters, reminding her they had no commitment. He’d hoped for a reaction, a discussion, but above all he’d wanted denial.
But she hadn’t taken the bait. She either said nothing or confirmed his no-commitment liturgy and that made him uncomfortable. Why couldn’t she commit to him? What was wrong? He tackled problems head-on, so why not this one? Because…all her hesitancy made him afraid that if he pushed too hard she’d leave.
He knew Alan was right.
He kissed her forehead. He’d put off talking to her until this weekend.
He didn’t want to turn back now. He wanted forever. With Margot.
He was going to propose to her tomorrow. There were still things he needed to do.
Do. The list. Shit. He closed his eyes. He had to speak to the driver and… He gave up and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Margot relaxed poolside trying to get rid of her throbbing headache.
It had been late morning when she’d gotten out of bed. Morgan was gone. His note said he’d see her about lunchtime. Unable to face breakfast, she’d put on the one-piece bathing suit with the plunging neckline and cut-out back that Morgan had given her before they went to Star Island. According to the weekend program, most of the wedding guests were off hiking. For her, lying out in the late-morning sun was as close to nature as she wanted to get.
The rustic setting of the inn’s pool was inviting. The area appeared more like a grotto than the typical chlorine-blue oblong. Large smooth fieldstones rimmed the saltwater pool. Water sluiced over the six-foot-high waterfall at the far end. Native shrubs dotted the pool deck and were complemented by the Adirondack chairs and lounges scattered around.
She took a deep breath of the clean mountain air and settled back. If she stayed real still, her headache retreated to a dull thud. In a haze, she drifted off into a light sleep.
“Good morning.” Margot jolted at the sudden interruption that set off a brutal pounding in her head. As sweet as the voice was, she swore the woman had a megaphone focused at her ear. If she kept her head still, perhaps the pounding would let up. Light was another issue. She adjusted her dark glasses and the wide brim of her straw hat, hoping to hide behind them before she closed her eyes and sank further back into the lounge chair, trying to disappear.
Her silent treatment crumbled under the weight of the woman’s stare. Shit, it was the same
silent treatment, soaked in a good dose of guilt, her mother used when she wanted her to do something.
Besides, the woman was part of either Viv’s or Gabe’s family. She could at least be hospitable.
“Morning,” she mumbled, hoping the woman wouldn’t say anything else. Or better yet, go away.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” The scrape of the lounge chair next to her was startling.
“Jeez,” she muttered. She didn’t want to be sociable. Why’d she say anything?
“Are you with the wedding? It seems to have taken over the inn. You can’t walk anywhere without bumping into a wedding guest or someone from the wedding party. I’m Agnes, by the way. I didn’t catch your name.” The woman wanted to talk. That was the last thing she wanted.
“Leave the girl alone.” She flinched at the gravelly voice that came from Agnes’s direction. “Can’t you see she doesn’t want to be disturbed?” the feisty old man scolded the woman. Another chair scraped the pool deck.
Oh no, there were two of them.
She peeked through small slits, her eyes adjusting to the light as she glanced around the pool. All the other chairs were empty; no towels draped on the backs or seats reserving them, either. If she could, she’d stand up and move but she didn’t want to offend anyone from either family.
She sat up straighter and her stomach growled. Maybe she could flag the waiter for something to eat? She glanced at the bar. Still no one in sight.
“Nonsense, Albert. I’m just being sociable.” The woman made herself comfortable.
Crap, she was settling in for the afternoon.
“You’re a busybody and pain in the ass, if you ask me,” Albert interjected. That caught Margot’s attention. She peered out from under the protection of her hat. His hand rested on Agnes’s. That surprised her. His gentle touch didn’t match his attitude. There was more beneath the surface even though his face was red and screwed up in anger. Agnes wasn’t fazed. “The woman’s trying to rest,” he yelled in a whisper—if a person could yell in a whisper.
She had a hard time trying not to laugh.
Agnes huffed and glared at the man. “Well, I’m not asking you.” Her voice lost its sweet nature, but Margot didn’t miss the stink-eye Agnes gave him. Their argument made her a bit uncomfortable but she got the feeling their out-in-the-open quarreling was their usual routine and wasn’t anything unique. Agnes returned her focus to Margot, a sweet smile back on her face.
“As I was saying, I didn’t catch your name—”
She may as well resign herself. They were here to stay.
“You deaf as well as a royal pain? She didn’t give you her name.” He stared right at Margot. “Did you?” After being spoken about as if she wasn’t there, his direct question caught her by surprise. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. “Not speaking. Good for you.” He smiled and rubbed Agnes’s arm. “See, Agnes, she’s mute. Can’t speak. Probably deaf, too.” He sat back in the chair.
Agnes waved him away and leaned toward Margot. “Don’t pay any attention to him. In a few minutes he won’t remember he’s seen us.”
She took off her glasses. “My name’s Margot.” She stared at Agnes. Her grandmother came to mind. She sniffed the air—strawberry and pink jasmine with a hint of green mandarin—ah, Miss Dior perfume, her grandmother’s favorite. Margot sat back. So did Agnes, a pleased expression on her face.
“Her name is Margot,” she called out. “She’s not deaf or dumb. She’s quite nice, actually.” The woman’s eyes hadn’t left hers.
“Yeah? And how the hell do you know all that from getting her name?” The man struggled to his feet. “If you’re going to yap all afternoon I’m going to find me some peace and quiet and you, Margot, are welcome to join me. You won’t get any rest with her jabbering.” He stalked off toward the inn’s lobby. Not exactly like her grandfather, although he did wear his pants up high with suspenders like Old Pop, but that was the only similarity. Albert was a character. Agnes made nothing of his outburst so she relaxed.
“At last,” Agnes said. “You’re not married or engaged.” Agnes nodded toward her left hand. Margot forced herself to not pull it away. “Smart girl. You’ve got to be careful. There are men,” Agnes bent close to her and whispered, “all men, really, think with their penis.”
Agnes and Albert. That was a picture she needed to erase from her mind real quick. But it was stuck there. Margot’s fingers touched her throat. It was a bit flushed as heat raced up her neck and settled in her cheeks. Agnes sat back.
“Did I startle you, dear? I call them as I see them. Love is in the air at a wedding. It’s like the flu. People you would never think to marry look good.” Agnes cast a glance toward the inn’s lobby doors. Was that how Agnes viewed Albert? No, she didn’t believe that for a moment. They argued but their gentle touches spoke louder—they cared for each other.
“I know the signs. Albert proposed the day my sister got married. It was like this wedding but in Vermont. He was all lovey dovey and I was taken in by the day and his uniform. I said yes. Since the family was around, we got our license and were married the next day. I had the same minister and the same flowers. My sister wanted me to wear her wedding gown, but I wanted to get married in my uniform. I was an army nurse. The day was perfect. Albert was perfect. Life was going to be perfect. The next day Albert shipped out to Korea. That was in 1953, sixty-two years ago.” Margot didn’t miss the despair on Agnes’s face. She was relieved it wasn’t regret. Realization hit her. Albert—this Albert—wasn’t the man she married. He was locked somewhere inside himself. Was he slipping away little by little? Did the real Albert break out every so often?
“Well, no sense crying over something you can’t change.” Agnes let out a heavy sigh and patted Margot’s hand. “Just be careful you don’t get caught up in this wedding whirl. I’ve been watching.”
“And what have you seen?” Margot wasn’t a gossip, but it was laughable how Agnes lit up at the opportunity to tell all she knew. She needed to know to which family Agnes was related.
Those eyes had Gabe written all over them. Yeah, the more she considered it, the more she thought Agnes had to be from Gabe’s side of the family.
“Well,” Agnes scooted her chair closer, “that young man there,” and nodded toward the inn door.
Margot turned to spot who the young man in question was. No one was at the door except Morgan and Nikki, the inn owner.
“He can’t keep his hands off anyone. Those two have been sneaking around and meeting in strange places.” Stunned by Agnes’s words, Margot could only nod. “Last night she pulled him into her office and this morning she practically dragged him down the drive. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but one minute Nikki’s in tears and the next she’s screaming at him.” Margot couldn’t curb the flash of anger or the flare of heat that raced through her. Jealous. She didn’t have a green bone in her body.
“Albert and I have been coming here for years and know Nikki and Nate Flynn real well. She would never do anything rash.”
Margot settled back and smoldered as she watched Morgan and Nikki with their heads together. She didn’t think anything of the two of them laughing, not even when Nikki put her hand on Morgan’s arm, but she wanted to jump out of her chair when Morgan covered her hand with his.
“I tell you it must be that man.”
Agnes hadn’t taken her eyes off the pair. “I can’t tell what they’re saying but it looks all cozy to me.”
Cozy? She stared at Morgan, her stomach in turmoil—and not from the little pink things she’d been drinking last night.
Wait, he’d been one of the organizers of last night’s party. And Gabe had Morgan doing all sorts of errands for him today. It must be related to the wedding. What else would they be talking about? She let Agnes provoke her. It was clear his head-bumping with Nikki was about the weekend. She stretched her neck for a better view. Morgan was in attorney mode right down to his glare and crossed arms in fr
ont of his puffed chest. He’d taken great care in developing that stance. It made him appear bigger and broader. Although he wasn’t a trial attorney, his presence at the bargaining table was fearsome. She’d seen him in action once, but if she were in a court battle she’d want him on her side. She was dizzy with relief. She didn’t want to admit the idea that he might be interested in someone else unsettled her more than her already defiant stomach.
“And she’s not the only woman he’s been flirting with.” Agnes’s conspiratorial tone made her jerk her head toward the woman.
“What do you mean?” She struggled to keep her voice even. Their relationship was solid. She glanced at Morgan as he smiled at Nikki. Oh God, their relationship was falling apart in front of her. Unable to sit still, she licked her lips and swung her legs to the ground, ready to leave. She didn’t want to listen but she couldn’t leave, either.
“I was talking to him in the lobby last night. He impressed me as such a nice man. Morgan Stuart is his name. When the woman came in he acted surprised to see her. At first I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, you see people at weddings you haven’t seen in years and can’t place them. But this? This was different. The woman tried to pretend she didn’t see him, even hid her face. As if standing there right next to him he wouldn’t notice her.”
Morgan wouldn’t… She stopped herself. Last night, during the party, the phone call…he’d said he had to take care of something.
“I saw him later in the lobby and watched them. She searched around looking for someone. At first I thought she was looking for someone to save her. But when she led him into the lounge—which was closed, by the way—I realized she wanted to get him alone.”
Agnes had it all wrong. The woman must be a wedding guest. Secret rendezvous weren’t Morgan’s style. He’d have an explanation, she was positive. That was when reality hit her. He didn’t have to give her an explanation. He’d been reminding her they didn’t have a commitment—as recently as last night.
Timeless Vows: Five Tales of Love (Timeless Tales Book 4) Page 2