by Barbara Lohr
“Sure thing. I’ll get right to it. So you’re having Christmas here after we return from the wedding?”
He deserved an answer. Usually she left things up to Cameron, but he was always encouraging her to step into her role in the household. “There’s been a change of plans, Jack. We’re having the wedding here.”
He cocked his head. “Well, that’s nice. Guess I won’t have to drag out my winter suit then, will I?”
She laughed. “No, no you won’t and neither will Cameron.”
Well, that felt amazingly easy. Satisfaction and relief filled her as she walked away. Of course, that was a man’s response. She sprang up the back steps.
The kitchen smelled of toast and bacon. Warm and homey. And yet, was this mansion her home? Sometimes she still couldn’t believe it. But enough of the grandeur. Right now, she wished it felt more like a home.
“Connie?” Stepping into the spacious marble hall, she looked around but no sight of the housekeeper. She must be upstairs.
Nothing much had changed here since she’d interviewed for the position of nanny. Running a hand over the side table Connie kept dusted, she chuckled. She’d been terrified when she arrived that day. Only two nights earlier, she’d pranced in wearing her Catwoman costume to entertain at a birthday party for kids. Instead, she’d run smack into a bachelor party. The guys hooted and howled for their stripper, which sure wasn’t her. Back then, she needed the work so bad. Heck, she’d always needed a job, and she thought she really blew that gig. Cameron dismissed her. After the mix-up, she quit working for her sleazy boss and looked for another job, only to discover that Cameron had been impressed by her.
“You were gutsy,” he told her later. “All Chicago and feisty. My daughter had already run through an embarrassing number of nannies. I needed a woman of steel. That was you, darlin’.”
Not exactly flattering but his confession explained a lot. At first, she couldn’t stand his arrogance. Harper never would have taken the job if it hadn’t been for Bella. The tyke stole her heart. Hair snarled and wearing mismatched socks, she so obviously needed a woman’s hand. Harper didn’t have a great track record for finishing things, well unless you counted dark chocolate Milky Way bars. But she’d succeeded with Bella. How she loved that little girl...almost as much as she loved Bella’s father.
Hand on the shiny banister, she glanced around. Yep the place hadn’t changed much but she sure had. Maybe Christmas would be the start of a new life, a new home. But she would have to make it happen. She couldn’t wait for Cameron to cover all the bases. The poor man had enough on his plate right now.
“Harper? Sure looks like you’ve got something on your mind.” Connie appeared at the top of the stairs in her sensible shoes and the white apron she chose to wear. A pile of clean towels filled her arms.
Might as well get things sorted out. Walking upstairs past the historic etchings, Harper said, “Connie, there’s been a major change in the wedding plans.” And she watched Connie’s jaw drop as she told her. The poor woman became as pale as the peach towels. “Don’t even think you have to handle everything, Connie. We’re getting people in, but we’d like you and Jack to identify the staff we’ll need.”
“So the reception also will be here?” She pointed down.
“Yep, right here. The decorations will mostly be holiday decorations that are in the car. I’ll have more to tell you later.” First, she needed to make that one call.
Looking totally rattled, Connie looked like she might just drop the towels. Then her customary common sense kicked in. “Maybe we can contact that company who does Bella’s birthday parties. Have them put up a tent.” Harper loved that about Connie. She was a problem solver.
“Great idea. It’ll be okay, Connie. We can do this.”
But Connie didn’t look convinced. “Well, I just don’t want you to wear yourself out, Harper. After all, it’s your wedding”
Her wedding. Their wedding.
As Connie came downstairs, the wonder of it caught Harper like a rogue wave at Tybee that grabs your ankles and upends you. Her throat closed with emotion, and she blinked furiously so Connie wouldn’t notice. If she said another word, she’d bawl. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, and oh how she wanted to do it right. But seeing Connie’s reaction, the wedding seemed like a huge task. The kind she’d never been much good at.
Then she thought of Bella. Her thoughts stopped tumbling. Yes. Yes, she could definitely handle this. The little girl deserved a proper Christmas, just as she deserved a caring mother. Harper would be the woman who could give her both.
Setting the towels on the side table, the housekeeper took her hands. The nice thing about Connie’s hands was that they were roughened by work and always warm. If she wasn’t baking biscuits, she was cleaning the silver. “Now, don’t you worry about a thing. Your wedding day will be the best Christmas wedding ever. Jack and I will do everything we can to make it perfect.”
“Aw, Connie.” She took the older woman in her arms. Breathing in the fresh scent of soap, Harper didn’t know where she’d be without her. Wiping her eyes, she drew back. “Let me just make one call. Then I’ll know where we stand.”
“Just tell me what you need me to do.” The quick kiss on the cheek surprised Harper. Then Connie went about her business as if it hadn’t happened. Slipping into the library, Harper closed the pocket door behind her. Feeling like a small child misbehaving, she sat in the high-backed chair at Cameron’s desk. She was saving him time. That’s all she was doing. Running her fingers around the edges of the massive desk, she sized up her task. Right now, the wedding felt like a runaway train bearing down on them. Outside the library doors, she heard the slip and slide of the tubs Jack was dragging inside.
This Christmas wedding was happening, and she had to do her part to steer it in the right direction.
Thank goodness, Cameron kept his address book right on the desk. No way would she feel good about going through his private drawers. She flipped the cordovan cover open and began paging through. His mother’s number wasn’t under Blodgett. What? Okay, she kept going, smiling at all the names and numbers scratched out. Especially Kimmy Carrington’s. Hmm. And then there was an Anne, Bethany, Diane. She liked the decisive, final crosses.
Here it was. How like Cameron to alphabetize his mother under Esther, not Blodgett. In two shakes, she copied the number onto a slip of paper so she could add it to her phone later. The Blodgetts still had a landline, and if she remembered correctly, Cameron had it installed. His family would have been perfectly fine to live without anyone calling them. Did Fred and Henry have cell phones? Probably, and their mother no doubt disapproved, so they kept them in their pockets. What was Lily’s married name? Nothing came to her.
It embarrassed her that she still knew so little about his family. Her heart pounded in her ears when she tapped in Esther’s number. The phone rang and rang. What now? Harper let her head fall into her hand. Just when she thought the answering machine would never kick on, Esther picked up.
“Mrs. Blodgett?” Startled, Harper sat up straighter, as if her mother-in-law could see her.
“And who is this?” Imperious as always.
She gulped. “Harper. How are you?”
“I’m fine. And yourself?”
Butterflies churned in her stomach. “I’m...I’m struggling.” Time to let it all out.
“Well, for goodness sakes.” Cameron’s mother sounded as surprised as Harper felt with her bald admission. Remembering Julep’s advice, she pushed on.
“It’s just that it’s Christmas and the wedding’s coming and I’m at a loss. Just at a loss.” Then she shut up. Let Cameron’s mother do some work on her end of this conversation. Harper knew how much Esther loved her oldest son, although she’d never admit it.
“Whatever is it? You’re having the ceremony at home, are you? I believe that’s what Cameron told me. In Savannah?”
Was she playing dumb now? Fishing?
&nb
sp; “Yes, we are. But I just can’t get anyone to help...with the food,” she finally blurted out. “Because of the holiday, every caterer is booked, and I just don’t know what I’m going to do.” Harper crossed her fingers, an old habit when it came to fibs. Oh, she knew they could get someone to handle the food, like Extraordinary Celebrations, who’d taken care of Bella’s birthday party. But she wanted her future mother-in-law to think she was desperate.
“Yes, that would be a problem, I suppose.”
“And I want everything to be right. You know, for Cameron’s sake. “
“Yes, of course.” Still that flat, dull intonation, like a stick dragging across a brick.
Get them saying yes. Hadn’t Cameron taught her that about business meetings? “I suppose you have a lot of Christmas dishes and maybe even wedding recipes?”
“Of course I do.” Outrage lifted Esther’s voice. “Not written down of course. Why everyone knows how to make shoofly pie.”
Well, not everyone. For a second Harper felt suspended, like she was clinging to the gnarled wisteria vines twined around the wrought iron railings. Hanging on for dear life but about to plummet into the bramble bushes.
“Well, I just don’t know what to do about the food. I do want this to be a celebration.” One that you’re going to attend. “A special day. A wedding to remember.” She tugged clichés out of her ear like silken scarves, bound to tempt and tantalize.
“Of course, of course.” Esther Blodgett sounded huffy, not happy.
But she hadn’t hung up, and that was a good sign.
“What about Connie?” Esther asked. “Why, I’d think she’d help you. Cameron always seems to like her cooking well enough.”
Oh. So there were hurt feelings here?
Time to think fast. “She already has so much to do with the house and everything.”
Esther’s breathy sigh rippled with frustration. Like a stubborn cow at milking time, she balked. Harper refused to take this personally, but for a second this felt like a lost cause. She’d bared her soul and now...
“I’d like to think on it,” Esther said. “I have the recipes and all, but they’re in my head.”
Harper sucked in a tight breath and took a moment. Never would she let this woman know she was about to lose it.
“Harper, I just have to think about it, is all.”
“That would be wonderful.” The words exploded in a relieved burst. “Whatever you could do would be great. Otherwise we’ll probably be eating TV dinners and store-bought cake.” That was a stretch and Esther knew it. Maybe she thought Harper couldn’t hear that snort.
“I will call you back. I have Cameron’s number.”
“Oh, let me give you mine,” she said quickly.
Silence. “I’ll have to get a pen.”
Harper said nothing. No way was she letting Esther Blodgett off the hook, and no way did she want her calling Cameron. When she returned to the phone, Harper gave her the cell number, repeating it twice.
After they said goodbye, Harper slid down in the chair like a wet noodle. The tense conversation sure hadn’t been a yes, and yet she felt victorious. Wiped out, she studied the dust motes that floated in the sunlight barely allowed by the heavily draped windows.
When the library doors slid open, Harper thought she might pass out.
Chapter 14
Leaning on the damn crutches he’d like to throw out a window, Cameron had trouble opening the library door. Connie must have closed it when she was cleaning. Three in the afternoon and he was beat. Why the hell did he climb up on that scaffolding? With the wedding coming up and all, he was disappointing Harper. He could kick himself from here to Forsyth Park. But he wasn’t kicking anything these days.
Finally, he got the door open. “Hey, sweetheart.” What a surprise to see her sitting there at his desk. When her head jerked up, the guilty expression was a total tell. She was up to something. Ducking his head and flattening the grin, he hobbled into the room. “What’s going on? You hiding?”
Behind her, dim sunlight shone through the long library windows. He’d have to remind Jack to line up the window cleaners. Still, the light set fire to her hair, making her look almost angelic, with the emphasis on the almost. He knew better but God, how he loved this woman. The fact that she quickly closed what sure as hell looked like his address book didn’t change that.
This room had a lot of memories for both of them, and they all flooded back. She’d upended his life, just as she’d upended the bowl of pretzels she accidentally kicked off the bar downstairs with one of her cheerleader kicks that night. “What are you doing in here, all shut up?”
Rising from his desk, she quickly passed a tiny piece of paper behind her back. His suspicion grew, and it was hard to keep a straight face. Moving forward slowly, he tried to psych her out. “So I guess whatever it is you’re doing, you don't want me to know about it.”
She pulled her who-me face. “Just checking a few things.”
“Ah huh. With the door closed?” Her creamy throat worked as she swallowed hard. “A few things that you don’t want me to know about?”
Harper lifted a shoulder, the color burnishing her face like a bad sunburn. With a lime green scarf tied around her hair and a turquoise and lime Harlequin printed sweater, she was a walking billboard. But she'd always been like that and he wouldn’t have it any other way. This girl would probably never wear the sedate clothes he saw on other women. No matching sweater set or modest string of outrageously expensive pearls. There were trade-offs and that included a warm washcloth.
Now one hand fidgeted with her scarf. “I was just, just...”
By the time Cameron reached the desk, he couldn’t hold back his chuckles. Laying the crutches against the leather wing chair, he took her in his arms. She settled with a sigh, so warm and willing. But her hands were still behind her back. Tilting her chin up with one hand, he looked deep into those hazel eyes. “Now Harper, do you expect me to keep asking you questions until I hit the jackpot?”
“No, no.” But her arms weren’t flung around his neck. Easing a hand behind her, he tugged the paper from her grip. “Or will this give me the answer?”
She glanced down at the slip as if it were a gun. “Maybe. Cameron, I was just working on the wedding. So many things still...”
He glanced down. What the hell? “You called my mother?” But the doodles on the paper made him laugh. She'd written Esther and had lightning bolts shooting out of each letter. “Whatever for?”
Her moist lips opened and closed. It took two tries before she could force anything out, but he enjoyed watching that full mouth. “I just wanted to talk to her. A little.”
Uh huh. “Right. Darlin’, this is a little.” He held his forefinger about a quarter inch from his thumb. “But my mother? She’s more like this.” And he flung his fingers open, the paper fluttering to the floor. His mother was a walking head case. Living with his father had done that to her.
“Oh, Cameron.” Tilting her head to the side, she brushed his lips with a kiss, tantalizing and irresistible. With a groan, he covered her lips with his, claimed them until they parted with a sigh. Enough conversation. Their tongues did the talking.
Her chest rose and fell against his, and he felt the stirrings of their contact. This could easily become more than just a kiss. “Cameron I was just…” But she couldn't get her breath.
“Do you need your inhaler?”
“Oh, no. I need you.” She held him tighter.
“I like hearing that.”
She kissed his chin, carefully swinging one leg around his good leg and cinching him closer. Pressed her curves closer until he thought he’d lose his mind. Putting all of his weight on his good leg, he leveraged her onto the desk and looked deep into those eyes that gave him all kinds of ideas.
“Now you know what I would do if I could walk back to that door and slide it closed?”
Her eyes widened and her chest rose and fell.
“Where this w
hole thing might go if I could lay you down on this desk and slip off that sweater?” He glanced down. “And the black jeans?”
Her breathing became uneven when he slid both hands under the soft sweater, where the skin was even softer. When she shivered, he squeezed his eyes shut and just felt. One touch of the lace and he froze, mind shifting through ways he might make something happen. But the clunky cast mocked him. Walking cast, my ass.
Limping across the floor to shut that door? Not the manly thing to do and painful. While he hesitated, the moment passed.
“Connie might see us.” She hitched her sweater down as if she recognized the barriers. The moment drifted away. Pulling her up, he buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair.
“Cameron,” she whispered.
He lifted his head.
“I want your family to come to our wedding ceremony. I want them to come so bad.” She was trembling in his arms, and his heart turned over. Why was this so damn important?
Pulling away, he studied her face, every precious line now twisted into a frown. “Oh, sweet thing. What you do to me. Does it really matter that much to you?” Why in heaven’s name did she want the Blodgetts here when they didn’t want to come? He’d spent so much of his adulthood trying to forget his upbringing. He just could not picture Fred and Henry in their coveralls fitting in with the Kirkpatricks from Chicago.
Were those tears shimmering in her eyes? His gut clenched.
“It most certainly does matter. At least, to me.” Her eyes turned steely, and he hoped to God she didn’t stamp her foot in those boots. She might hit his. “And Julep helped me think of a way to—”
“Julep?” Maybe he'd been wrong to think that Tuck’s wife would be a good influence on Harper. “Go on. I'm just thinking.”
Moistening her lips with her tongue, Harper motored on while his mind stayed right there with her plump, ripe mouth. “Anyway, she suggested I ask your mother to participate.”
“Participate? How?”
“Remember your dad's funeral?”