Being Emerald (Skimmerdale Book 2)

by Sharon Booth

  'I'd rather like to go alone,' Eden interrupted, 'Well, me and the girls if you don't mind.'

  'But I do mind,' Emerald said crossly. 'I'm your wedding planner, after all, and —'

  'And the dresses are up to me. My choice.' Eden looked at Cain. 'I'm sorry, but my mind's made up on this. It's the one area that I don't want any involvement from you or Emerald or anyone else.'

  'Except for Dad's cheque book,' Emerald muttered.

  'Not even that.' Eden gave her a fake smile. 'My dad has insisted on paying for the dresses. He sent me some money the other day with the express instruction that it's only to be used for that purpose, and I'm not going to refuse him that right, whatever anyone says. So, this will be a personal thing, for me and the girls.'

  Emerald looked at Cain. To her disappointment, he nodded and smiled. 'I reckon that's a lovely gesture from your dad. Nice for him to be able to do that. Good for you, Eden. You go off and have a nice day with the kids.'

  'But — but —' Emerald had no idea what to say. She had total control of this wedding so far, and she liked it that way. This didn't fit in with that, at all. 'Eliot,' she said, appealing to his better nature, 'you know that I need to be there, right? I'm the wedding planner, after all. I should be involved in every step of this wedding.'

  To her dismay, he shook his head. 'Not this, Emerald. This is between Eden and her dad, and I reckon if that's how they want it then so be it.'

  Emerald almost stamped her foot, she was so cross. She could feel her third chakra sliding out of control, the wheel spinning furiously within her upper abdomen. Think yellow, think yellow, she told herself. I send love and compassion to you all. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, visualising a glowing yellow light within her solar plexus.

  'Tell you what, this cake ain't half bad,' Cain said. Emerald's eyes snapped open as he reached for another slice, earning a disapproving look from the woman who was handing out samples. 'What do you think? Are we having a fruit cake at this wedding, or one of them sponges?'

  Eden squeezed his arm affectionately — a gesture which incensed Emerald — and said, 'You don't have to get us a cake, Cain. Honestly, I can bake one myself.'

  'You will not!' Cain looked outraged. 'Bake your own bleeding wedding cake! What is this, the war? I'm quite sure we can buy you one and no arguments.'

  'How about a croquembouche?' Evidently spotting a potential sale, the woman put down her tray and hurried over to greet them. 'They're terribly popular at the moment.'

  'What the heck is a croquembouche?' Eliot looked out of his depth.

  'A towering structure of profiterole balls,' she said, reaching for a brochure that lay beside a fat diary. 'Terribly popular in France and Italy, and growing in popularity here, too.'

  'But this is Yorkshire,' Eliot said, in a voice that clearly ruled out a croquembouche. As he peered at the photographs she waved under his nose, it was evident that he wasn't going to change his mind.

  The saleswoman obviously recognised that fact, too. 'Or perhaps, instead of one cake, a whole assortment of cupcakes instead? We do some wonderful designs. We can do almost any flavour and decorate them as you wish. You could have three tiers — each tier filled with a different flavour of cupcake. You could even have one large cake as the base and —'

  'Aren't there any normal wedding cakes?' Eliot sounded weary. 'You know, a bit of fruitcake with marzipan and icing, and a plastic bride and groom on top?'

  The woman reeled back, wounded. 'Really?'

  'I reckon none of these will taste as good as Eden's cakes any road,' Eliot said, which only made the poor woman look even more hurt.

  'How about a nice sponge cake?' Eden suggested hastily. 'The children don't like fruit cake, and I'm not terribly fond of it either.'

  The woman tried to recover her composure. 'We do several flavours of sponge cake and, of course, we would endeavour to provide you with whatever style or design you wish.'

  'Here, Eden, get your laughing gear around this,' Cain said, waving a dish of tiny bite-sized cake squares in her face. 'This is proper tasty.'

  'Lemon and elderflower,' the woman said, wrinkling her nose in distaste as Cain stuffed four pieces into his mouth at once. 'One of our most popular flavours.'

  'We don't want popular,' Emerald said. 'We want unique. Something different. Something spectacular. Something no one's had before.'

  'No we don't.' Eden was eyeing the lemon and elderflower cake in the brochure. It was a pretty design with very pale lemon buttercream covering the cake, and yellow and lilac flowers sitting on top. 'This is lovely.' She looked at Eliot. 'What do you think?'

  'It doesn't fit with the colour scheme.' Emerald put her hands on her hips, feeling the control of this wedding slipping further away from her with every minute. She turned to her father, appealing to his better nature. 'You said you wanted her to have the best wedding ever. How is this sort of thing going to contribute to that?'

  'You ain't tasted this cake,' he mumbled, showering her with crumbs as he did so. Emerald wrinkled her nose in disgust. He may have changed his image, but he was still the same coarse, common individual beneath it all. She wondered why his opinion even mattered to her.

  Despairing, she cast her gaze over the catalogue that lay on the counter, and suddenly let out a whoop. 'What about this one?'

  Cain peered at the picture she was pointing to. It was a large, grand, three-tier structure, coated with thick white icing and decorated in a style that was rather French, with ornate swirls and little pearls. It looked like a wedding gown itself. Sitting on top was a little posy of white roses.

  'Look at the flavour,' she pointed out. 'Look at the colour of the actual cake inside!'

  He screwed up his eyes, trying to see properly. Too vain to wear glasses, she thought, and too cowardly to wear contacts. He was a lost cause, really.

  'What's this?' he said.

  'Pink cake,' Eliot said. 'Like angel cake?'

  'Pink champagne,' the saleswoman said, the eagerness in her voice a reflection, no doubt, of the fact that the cake they were now discussing was far more expensive than the simple lemon and elderflower cake. 'It really is most exquisite, and the taste is simply divine.'

  Eliot and Eden looked at each other.

  'Perfect,' Cain pronounced. 'Just the job that. Can't beat a bit of champers and having it in your cake makes it that much more special, don't you think. We'll take that one,' he pronounced, without even so much as checking on the Harlands' opinion.

  Emerald smiled to herself. Her father was such a snob. He could always be relied upon to go for the fancier option.

  'Cain, it's too much,' Eden said, sounding desperate. 'Look at the price of it. Honestly, I can bake one myself.'

  'You will not,' Cain said. 'This is your big day, and you're having the best. Am I right, Eliot?'

  Eliot nodded. 'They're right, love. I want this to be as special as you are. This cake's right grand, and no less than you deserve.'

  Emerald turned away before she revealed too much. Her loathing of Eden had cranked up another notch. Why was everyone so besotted with the woman? She was such a phoney! Why did no-one but her see that? She thrust her hands in her pockets, scowling to herself.

  Her fingers curled around a piece of card and she pulled it out, curious. Then her face cleared. James Fuller! She'd almost forgotten about him. He despised Eden almost as much as she did. If anyone would understand how she felt, it was him.

  She put the card back in her pocket and bit her lip, considering. Eliot was such a sweet man. He'd never said a bad word to her, and always seemed to take her side. Well, almost always. She'd never met anyone like him — except for Jed. They were very similar. Not in looks, of course. They couldn't look more different. But in personality, temperament. Jed was more confident, more outgoing than Eliot, but he had the same kindness, the same understanding. They were the only two people she'd ever known who seemed to listen to her, seemed to even see her. Maybe she should try to get alon
g with Eden, if only for his sake?

  She fixed a smile on her face and spun round, deciding to throw herself into the joys of ordering an extortionately expensive cake. Her smile died. Eliot had his arms tightly around Eden, and they were both smiling at the lady behind the counter as she informed them of the different types of cake topper they could have. Cain, meanwhile, was stuffing his face with more samples. Emerald glared at them all. They hadn't even noticed that she wasn't with them. It was all about Eden, as usual. She'd never felt so alone, nor so lonely. She needed a friend. Someone who understood. Thank goodness she'd kept hold of that card.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cain was starving and beginning to wish he'd accepted Eden's invitation to dinner, but since he'd already had lunch with them and spent most of the day at Fleetsthorpe, he felt he'd outstayed his welcome. He had an awful feeling that if he didn't get back to the hotel, he'd be roped into doing some evening painting in the barn, and he couldn't be doing with all that. Not with his knees. And hips. And back. And neck. Jesus, he was a wreck and no mistake.

  He'd booked a table for eight o'clock but regretted his decision. It was only seven and his stomach thought his throat was cut. He could hear its grumbling protests already. Maybe, he thought, he should buy himself a couple of drinks and fill up on peanuts at the bar. That should stave off the worst of it.

  After showering and changing, he headed into the hotel restaurant and plonked himself on a stool at the bar. Trying to ignore the boards which listed today's specials, he ordered himself a pint of lager and coughed loudly as his stomach growled its disapproval at him. Why was he so hungry? Eden had piled up his plate at lunchtime. Emerald had been disgusted. Then again, Emerald was always disgusted.

  He munched miserably on a handful of peanuts, wondering what the hell he was going to do with his problem middle child. It was weird, but the whole time he was back in Upper Bourbury he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her.

  Truth was, he felt guilty. She'd been off his radar for so long that he'd almost forgotten about her, and he didn't have a clue how she'd lived her life, what she enjoyed doing, who she was — apart from obnoxious and a bit wacky, of course. That went without saying.

  She was a moody mare, but there was a little nagging voice inside Cain's head that kept reminding him that, compared with his other children, she'd had a rough time, and that he'd barely spared her a thought in years. He wanted to make it up to her, but he didn't want to be made a fool of again, the way Honey had made a fool of him with her poxy little shop that had ended up costing him a small fortune. Honey had never made any real attempt to run it as a profitable business. She was a spoilt little madam, truth to tell, but Cain couldn't help but love her. And look at her now! All grown up and married and responsible. Maybe there was hope for Emerald, after all.

  'Gin and tonic please.' The cut glass accent made Cain turn his head to get a better view of its owner. He was a sucker for a posh voice. It was what had led him into Freya's clutches, and look how that had turned out. The woman sitting next to him at the bar was older than Freya — or maybe she wasn't. It was hard to tell, given how much plastic surgery Honey's mother had undertaken.

  The woman beside him was all natural, with fine lines at the corners of her eyes and light feathering above her lips, but she was attractive nevertheless. She turned her head and stared at Cain and he thought she was very attractive indeed. With large, dark, almond-shaped eyes she reminded him of a Jersey cow — in a good way, of course. She was — what was the word? — elegant. Yeah, that was her. Elegant. The woman turned away and accepted the gin and tonic from the barman with a grateful smile. He was dismissed.

  Sighing inwardly, Cain resumed his musings on his daughters, and how different they were. Honey's return from her honeymoon had cheered him up. At least, at first.

  When she and Teddy had turned up on his doorstep a few days ago, he'd been over the moon to see them, all tanned and happy and looking totally loved up. But Honey hadn't even mentioned his new look for ages — too busy telling him about the honeymoon. Which, he supposed was understandable. Just a bit disappointing, that's all. And when she did finally seem to notice, it was Teddy who brought it up, not her. Honey had looked him up and down and said, 'About time you started dressing your age. Did I tell you, Rex is having laser treatment to remove those tattoos on his face?' Then she'd launched into a long discussion about his long-time rival, Honey's new father-in-law. It was all Rex this, and Rex that until, quite frankly, he was sick to death of hearing about sodding Rex.

  Honey had completely thrown herself into working for the Scotman Foundation, founded and run by — yes — Rex. Teddy worked for it, too, and the two of them had spent a great deal of their honeymoon working, rather than relaxing, sunbathing, sightseeing and doing a lot of bonking like they should have been doing. It wasn't right, he thought gloomily. Rex Scotman had always been the bane of his life, and now he'd taken Honey, too.

  Depressed and feeling even lonelier, Cain had decided there and then to head north and visit Emerald and Jed for a couple of days. Maybe they'd be more appreciative of his new look.

  He'd been ever so nervous when he clapped eyes on Emerald heading into the hotel conference room. What would she say about him? He'd been half eager to find out and half dreading it. Ever the coward, he'd backed out of asking her and turned to Eden instead, because he knew he was guaranteed a polite answer from her. He'd saved Emerald 'til last, and she hadn't disappointed. She'd lived up to his expectations and poured cold water over the whole thing. He wondered why he'd been stupid enough to hope for anything else.

  He wished he could think of a way to put things right with her, to build some sort of relationship with her, but he didn't have a clue how to start and, to be honest, Emerald didn't seem that bothered anyway. Her priority was getting this wedding sorted so she could prove she could be trusted and then the money for the retreat would be hers. She'd grab the money and run, and he'd never see her again. No doubt about it. It was gutting. Five kids and not one of them seemed to want or need him. He supposed he was paying the price for his life of debauchery, and for more-or-less abandoning them while he pursued his career and a string of sexy blondes. Bleeding karma. What a bitch.

  'May I buy you a drink?'

  Cain blinked, snapped out of his misery as the posh bird on the next stool leaned towards him, all big eyes and expensive perfume. 'Eh?' Oh, nice one, Cain! How classy. 'I mean, pardon?'

  She lowered her lashes quite coquettishly and smiled. 'I said, may I buy you a drink?'

  Cain swallowed. Was she taking the piss? Oh, of course. She'd recognised him, even with his new image, and thought he was worth tapping up for a few quid. Then he frowned, noting the expensive gold jewellery on her wrist and fingers. She didn't look short of a bob or two. Mind you, that might be why. Maybe she went around fleecing gullible rich blokes all the time.

  'It's all right, thanks. I've still got half a pint.'

  She nodded. 'Fair enough.' She moved her stool a little closer and held out her hand. 'Constance.'

  Cain considered for a moment, then shook her hand warily. 'Jeff,' he said, wondering what her reaction to that would be. 'Jeff Moggs.' It wasn't an outright lie, after all. Jeffrey Dennis Moggs was the name on his birth certificate. The fact that it had been legally changed when he was only twenty was neither here nor there.

  Constance didn't seem to doubt he was telling the truth, and he thought maybe she hadn't realised who she was talking to after all. Perhaps she was genuine. 'I'm pleased to meet you. I was sitting here contemplating an evening all alone and it's nice to have someone to talk to, isn't it?'

  Cain nodded. 'Yeah, I suppose. Are you staying here then?'

  'Just for the one night. How about you?'

  'Yeah. I'm heading home tomorrow.'

  'Have you eaten?'

  Cain shook his head. 'I've got a table booked at eight.' He glanced at his watch and felt a gloom descend upon him again. 'Wish I'd booked it earlier,'
he confessed. 'I'm starving.'

  Constance gave him a wide smile and he noticed she had very even teeth and a dimple in her left cheek. 'My table's booked for half past seven. Would you like to sit with me? It would be awfully nice to have some company.'

  As he hesitated, she held up her hands. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to push you. You may want to be alone this evening.'

  As she gave him a sidelong look, Cain felt his legs go all funny. 'No, no, not at all. I'd love to join you, if you're sure?'

  'Quite sure,' she assured him. 'I'm sure you'll be most entertaining company.'

  Funny, but Cain realised he suddenly wasn't feeling very hungry any more.

  ****

  Cain wasn't quite sure what had happened. He lay staring up at the ceiling of his hotel room, his heart pumping, his pulse racing, and contemplated how funny life was. You never knew what was around the corner.

  Beside him, Constance was already getting dressed, reaching for her rather fetching black, lacy bra. Cain gulped and watched, fascinated, as she slipped the straps over her shoulders, feeling a twinge of regret as those pert little breasts of hers were once again encased in the flimsy material. She may be getting on a bit, but she had a cracking body, and boy, she knew what to do with it.

  He couldn't quite believe, even now, that they'd ended up in bed together. It was all so unexpected. They'd barely even got started on their meal when the small talk had turned to out and out flirtation. Cain had found himself loosening his shirt collar, and he'd seen Constance's pupils dilate as she moistened her lips with her tongue. It had been pretty obvious they were both of the same mind.