“Oh, by the way,” he added as he began to turn away. “I'll be leaving myself this afternoon. I've got business in New York.”
It was unbelievable the way her heart fell. Just three days before, she'd never met the man, and now his presence in her life seemed indispensable.
“Will you be gone long?” she heard herself asking.
“At least a week, maybe two.”
“Then ... you don't have any reservations about my staying on as butler?”
His gaze barely skimmed over her. “You seem to be doing just fine. If Aunt Julia has any complaints, I'm sure she'll let you know.” And then he was gone.
She looked at her reflection in the hall mirror and saw a strained face and haunted eyes. “It's for the best,” she whispered. But inside she felt hollow.
“You seem to have things in hand,” Julia mused as she sat across, the desk from Terry, going over her lists and plans for the household. “You do realize how important it is that everything be perfect when my brother finally arrives at the end of the summer?”
“Mr. Carrington was quite clear on that score,” Terry replied.
Julia nodded, pursing her lips. “I can't think what he'll make of a female butler,” she said softly, almost to herself. “But you seem to be doing the job, and that's what counts.”
“Thank you.” Terry was pleased that Julia thought well of her work. She only hoped her luck would hold out for the entire summer.
“Oh, just a moment,” Julia said suddenly, and Terry paused, not liking the sound of her tone. “I don't see anything here about the Waltz Away Ball.”
Terry blinked. “I'm afraid I don't know anything about that.”
“Rick didn't tell you?” Her black eyes sparkled. “It's great fun. Every year a different family hosts it as a fundraiser for the various local charities. We all dress up as nineteenth-century Viennese. And this year it's our turn to play host.” She glanced at her calendar. “Goodness. We don’t have much time. We should begin making plans right away.”
Terry licked dry lips. “When is it held?”
“The end of next month. By all rights, we should have begun preparations weeks ago.” Aunt Julia's smile was sunnily unconcerned. “No matter. I'm sure you'll do a splendid job.”
Terry wasn't sure of that at all. She'd never put on a charity ball before and she didn't have a clue as to how one went about it. For a while she sagged under the burden, wondering if she shouldn't give up this crazy job once and for all. But by evening her backbone had stiffened. She would do it, she decided, and do a bang-up job of it too.
Rick stayed away for twelve days. In her saner moments she hoped he would be gone for a long time, sure that she would begin to forget him and be stronger when he got back. But as time went on, she began to realize it wasn't working that way. Something about the man seemed to have seeped into her bones. She couldn't shake him.
She got along beautifully with Aunt Julia. The older woman often seemed scatterbrained on the surface, but a sharp intelligence shone through in her clear black eyes. She spent many of her days visiting friends in Destiny Bay and Santa Barbara, leaving Terry free to work on her own, but she was always ready with advice or suggestions when Terry needed them.
Anatole was another matter. An uneasy truce lay between the cook and the butler, one that Terry was careful not to test. Luckily, nothing of major import came up for contention.
Celia was a help as far as cleaning went, but the good-natured girl didn't have much interest in learning anything more complicated and spent almost as much time spilling things as she did cleaning them up.
All in all, the days went by quickly. Terry arranged for rooms to be painted, for worn furniture to be recovered, for reorganization of the upstairs closets, and it wasn't long before she was seeing results and feeling satisfied with her work. The ball still loomed over her ominously, but she was working on it, and Aunt Julia was a big help.
Angelina, however, was a constant thorn in her side. Every time she passed Rick's room she felt compelled to go in and look at the hideous creature still sitting in his chair, a superior smirk on her painted face.
Someone had dressed her. She wore a simple black cocktail dress night and day, forever ready to be invited out to party. Terry stood in the doorway and stared at the doll, her fingers itching for the sharp pin that would deflate her forever.
But instead of creating mayhem, she went into town and while she had the chance, decided to drop in at the Magnificent Munch where Rick’s cousin’s wife Jennifer ran her shop on the embarcadero. She could tell right away it was her kind of place. Gourmet breads and cheeses were piled everywhere and the scent of great eating filled the air. She felt right at home.
There was a beautiful and very pregnant woman working behind the counter. It had to be Jennifer. Terry introduced herself. “I’m working at Calvin Carrington’s house, Mar Vista,” she told her. “My name’s Terry Yardley.”
“It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?” Jennifer had smiled. “What exactly are you doing there?”
Terry made a face, preparing to be disbelieved. “I’m the butler.”
Jennifer gasped with delight. “How cool! I can’t believe it. What can we do for you?”
“I just wanted to take a look at what you’ve got, but from what I’m seeing, I’m sure I’ll be back to order supplies soon. You’ve got just the sort of groceries I would love to experiment with.”
“Great. We’ll be ready.” Her eyes brightened. “I was just about to go to lunch next door at Mickey’s on the Bay. Why don’t you join me?”
Terry glanced at her watch. She really didn’t have much time. Still, it was too tempting to get to know more of Rick’s extended family. Besides, Mickey was a second cousin of hers, so she agreed and they walked the short space together. As luck would have it, once in the café, they found a booth full of Carringtons and slid in to join them.
“Terry, meet my husband’s brothers, Matt, the hotel tycoon, and Grant, the champion race car driver. And this is Grant’s wife, Carrie.”
“Carrie.” Terry said the name slowly, frowning at her. “Does your father run the little grocery store down by the pier?”
Carrie nodded. “And your father was butler at Mar Vista,” she guessed, pointing at Terry. “I know we’re not exactly related by blood, but we’ve got some distant cousin things going on, don’t we?”
Terry nodded. “Mickey’s my second cousin,” she noted.
“And my first cousin,” Carrie said, nodding. “So I think we can claim to be a part of the same family. Sort of.”
Matt and Grant were just as handsome as their cousin Rick, and Carrie was blond and just as pregnant as Jennifer was. Terry liked them all immediately and she thought she might recognize the men from her early visits during her teenaged years at Mar Vista. The jokes flew fast and furious, and then Mickey, the redhead who ran the café, came up to get their order, trading a few barbs of her own with the natural humor that showed she considered them all good friends.
“So Mickey,” Carrie said, after Mickey welcomed Terry back, “is the wedding on or off?”
Mickey tossed her head of red curls. “It’s on. For sure. Robert and I are getting married next month.” She smiled brightly. “I hope you all can make it.”
Just then a blond toddler came bouncing up to grab her around the knees. “And Meggie and I will be safe and happy,” Mickey added, almost defiantly, touching her baby’s head and looked at them all with a certain sense of reined in emotions. “Finally.”
There was an awkward silence for a moment, then everyone began to talk at once, congratulating Mickey and promising to be at the wedding. Mickey traded a few more jokes, then went back to the kitchen, taking her child with her. It was only seconds later that a handsome man in a business suit entered the café.
“There’s Robert now,” Jennifer whispered.
They all turned, smiled and waved, as he made his way through the place and disappeared into the back room with
Mickey.
“He’s a banker,” Jennifer whispered to Terry. “Can’t you tell?”
“He loves her,” Carrie said, almost fiercely. “I hope and pray she’ll be happy. She deserves it.”
They all nodded at that. The food arrived and they ate and talked and then, just as they were finishing up, another man entered and came toward their booth. A hush fell over the room. He was handsome in a windswept way. He looked a little careless, his clothes a bit shabby and his hair too long. He glanced around the room like a world-weary James Dean, but there was a warm spark to his smile when he turned it on.
“Hey guys,” he said. “What’s happening?”
“Tag. Haven’t seen you in ages.” Grant pushed in to give him room to sit. “You’re boat hasn’t been in the marina all week.”
Matt rose at the same time, mumbling something about picking Janet up at the library. He gave Tag a clap on the shoulder, then headed out.
“Where’ve you been this time?” Jennifer asked Tag as he sat alongside her.
Tag shrugged. “I took a jaunt up the coast. Thought I’d go stare at some redwood trees, see what they could tell me.”
“And?” Carrie asked.
Tag looked slightly puzzled. “It’s no use talking to trees,” he told her. “They don’t talk back. So I gave up and came home.”
“Don’t you get lonely on that boat all alone?” Jennifer asked him softly.
“No way. I’ve got the ocean. I’ve got the sea otters. The pelicans. That’s all I need.”
“Really.” Carrie gave him a look.
Mickey came out of the back room and her eyes widened when she saw Tag.
“Oh,” she said, stopping short.
“Hey Mickey,” Tag said, rising and looking at her with a certain glow to his eyes. “I need to talk to you.”
Her hand went to her throat and her eyes filled with tragedy. “No,” she said. “No, Tag. I can’t.”
Suddenly Robert was right behind her. Tag’s face hardened. He stared at Robert and Robert stared back. Terry scrunched down in her seat, wishing she could get up and leave. There was a dangerous electric current in the air. Too much pain and fear and emotion. For once, she thought she understood about animals sensing danger. She was sensing something right now. If only she wasn’t hemmed in, she would run away as far and fast as any stampeding animal.
Robert took another step forward and very deliberately put his arm around Mickey’s shoulders.
“Hello Tag,” he said. “Are you going to be coming to the wedding?”
Tag looked at him and slowly shook his head.
“You ought to come, Tag,” Robert said, his voice seemingly pleasant, but with an underlying sense of steel. “You ought to be there. I hope you will be. Then you can see the exact moment when Mickey officially becomes my woman. It’s a lesson I think you need to learn.”
Tag’s eyes seemed wild for a moment. Terry was afraid the two men would get physical. The sense of anger was thick and they seemed to be straining toward each other.
Then Tag said something low and evidently obscene that Terry didn’t catch, and Robert’s head went back and his arm tightened on Mickey.
“I think you’d better find a new café to hang out in, Tag,” Robert said evenly. “I don’t want you around Mickey anymore.”
“Robert,” Mickey began, pulling out of his embrace and trying to stop him from laying down impossible laws. “Robert, you can’t say things like that. Tag is…Tag is a good friend and ...”
“I told you that you would have to choose between him and me,” Robert said with quiet intensity. “It’s time to do that. Make your choice.” Turning on his heel, he went to the back room.
Mickey was looking at Tag imploringly. He looked back for a long moment, then shrugged.
“I’ll go. I don’t want to make any trouble for you.”
He hesitated and looked down into her face as though he was trying to memorize it. Lifting his hand, he barely touched her cheek with the palm of his hand, then turned and walked out. Everyone let air out as though they’d all been holding their breath. They looked at each other, and then, suddenly, they couldn’t look each other in the eye.
“Well, time to get back to work,” Jennifer said brightly, squeezing Terry’s hand at the same time. “Shall we?”
They said goodbye to the others and started out into the street.
“Wow. If that didn’t bring on contractions, I must be bulletproof,” Jennifer muttered. She glanced at Terry. “Robert’s a pretty good guy, you know. He’ll take good care of them. They’re lucky he wants to. It’s for the best.”
“Is it?” Terry asked, looking at her new friend searchingly. “Do you think Tag loves her?”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Couldn’t you see it? It was written all over him.” She sighed. “But Tag has his own reasons for needing his freedom. He can’t be tied down. And anyway, Mickey is older than he is and she feels it acutely.” She shrugged. “People make their own heartbreak, but they have to do what they have to do. What can I say?”
They parted, promising to get together soon, and Terry drove away with a new understanding of Carrington family dynamics. They were all over the place. Like any family, theirs was an emotional mess.
“That was Rick on the telephone,” Julia said on Friday morning.
Terry's heart skipped a beat, as though it had been only yesterday that he'd held her in his arms. She took a deep breath and tried to steady her hands.
“He'll be home this afternoon,” Julia went on. “He's going to pick up the children at school himself on his way in.”
“Oh, good,” Terry said before she thought, eliciting a startled look from Julia. “I mean, how nice for the children,” she mumbled and turned away. “I'll air out their rooms.”
When she heard Rick's sports car come up the drive later that day, her breath got a little shorter, but she didn't allow herself to go to the window. She even ignored her duty with the door, staying upstairs and vacuuming the hall.
When the children came tramping up the stairs she turned with a smile to greet them. Jeremy grinned back and gave her a quick hug before running to his room, but Erica's face was stormy.
“He says we're to stay for the summer,” she blurted out with no preamble.
“Oh?” Terry replied, surprised and pleased.
“He says it was your idea,” Erica accused, her eyes cold and unfriendly. “I don't know why you're so nosy!”
She'd known Erica might not be overjoyed at such an arrangement, but she hadn't expected such open hostility. “I'm sorry if you ...”
Erica didn't stay to hear her out. She flounced into her room and shut the door firmly. At the same time Terry heard Rick coming up the stairs.
She turned, her heart in her throat, and there he was, all six feet and more of golden masculinity, and she suddenly thought she understood something that had always puzzled her before—why women swooned so often in the antebellum South. Her head felt light and her knees were buckling.
His eyes were warm as they met hers and he said something, but she couldn't hear exactly what the words were. There was a strange buzzing in her ears and she only knew she had to protect herself from what she was feeling. Smiling stiffly, she leaned against the stem of the vacuum cleaner for support, working hard to maintain distance and dignity.
“Welcome home, Mr. Carrington,” she said, her voice sounding unpleasantly raspy in her own ears.
A shield dropped over his gaze at her tone. “Thank you, Yardley,” he growled in return, making her wonder what she'd done to insult him. “It's nice to know nothing has changed much in my absence.”
No, nothing had changed. She was still weak when it came to him, and he was still the rich, arrogant playboy he'd always been.
“I knew this job would be a challenge,” she muttered to herself as she packed away the vacuum cleaner. “What I didn't realize was just how many fronts I would be challenged on.”
But she would take
it one day at a time and get through, somehow. And Rick made it easier for her by keeping his distance. In the days that followed, he was rarely at home, and when he was, his time was taken up with the children.
Jeremy had completely won his heart, and the feeling was evidently mutual. The little boy followed his father everywhere, his brown eyes wide with hero worship. He carried the grubby koala at all times, “in case Daddy needs him,” and seemed to be ready for anything Rick might want to do. From what she could see, Rick responded to that affection in a way she never would have expected. He seemed to have a growing sense of wonder, becoming more and more comfortable in showing the boy just how he felt. Before long, they seemed inseparable.
But Erica was another story. Cool and disinterested with her father, she was downright cold with Terry, letting her know at every turn that she resented her part in condemning her to Mar Vista for the summer.
“Why don't you invite one of your friends from school to come and stay for a few days?” Terry suggested at one point.
“There's nothing to do here,” Erica replied. “They'd be bored to death.”
“Just as I already am bored to death,” was the unspoken implication. Erica went back to her teen magazine and turned her ipod earbuds on so that she could retreat into her own little world, blotting out Terry, and everything else at Mar Vista.
“She's not your problem,” Terry scolded herself. But the little girl was Rick's problem. And Terry was worried that he didn't know any better than she did how to solve it.
But then, she had problems of her own. In a word, Rick. He was her biggest problem, even bigger than the charity ball. He was treating her like the servant she was, and still she couldn't avoid feeling things she knew she shouldn't.
Rick himself felt like some brooding hero of a bad novel. He got through his days just fine, did all the work he set out to do, was even improving relations with his children, but there was a vague dissatisfaction dogging his steps at every turn. Getting ready for bed one night, he sat down and stared at Angelina, half tempted to call the number his cousin had supplied him with.
Promoted to Wife (Destiny Bay) Page 11