You Had Me at Good-bye

by Tracey Bateman

  “Mother,” Kale warns. “You already paid for a lot of the wedding preparations and an engagement dinner. Brynn’s folks wanted to do something special for their daughter.”

  “I suppose her parents knew you were going to elope, even though you didn’t tell us?”

  “No, Caroline,” Brynn assures. “We only told them before you because we drove to Miami, Oklahoma, to get married. We stopped home to see them. And, believe me, they were just as upset as you are. Until they realized how happy we are.”

  “Well, of course, we want you to be happy as much as they do,” Mother huffs. “But what was wrong with going ahead with your wedding? You couldn’t wait three more months? So many people were looking forward to the event.”

  Event? When Mother says “event,” she doesn’t mean “blessed event.” She means “party.” Reducing the happiest day of Brynn and Kale’s life to a party is just wrong.

  Kale heaves a sigh. “Everyone was looking forward to it except us, Mother.”

  “Well, what are we supposed to do about all the arrangements? The flowers and the caterers? We’ll have to forfeit our deposits.”

  A scowl darkens Kale’s face, and I see he’s about to blow a gasket. “We’ll pay the deposits.”

  “That’s not the point, Kale.”

  Poor Mother. She’s getting more and more frustrated. I feel the need to step in. I mean, Dad’s not taking up for her.

  “Hey, Mother, I have an idea. Why not use Kale and Brynn’s wedding date to renew your vows before you guys move to Florida?”

  “That’s a great idea!” Brynn’s pixielike face brightens, and I know part of her effusive response is a result of getting off the hot seat.

  “Don’t be silly,” Mother snaps.

  “Why is it silly, honey?” Dad asks. “I like the idea.”

  She looks at him, surprise lifting her brow. “You do?”

  And then my dad does something I never would have expected. He drops down on one knee in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” Mother asks, her face suddenly red. Kale and Brynn exchange a warm glance and smile. My heart clenches at all this romantic love in the air. My dad takes Mother’s hand and presses a kiss to it. If I ever doubted him—and I did—all those doubts flee with one look into his eyes. “Marry me again, my dear.”

  “Oh, Stuart. Are you sure?”

  “I’d like to say the vows again, and this time, I promise I’ll keep them.”

  Mother leans forward and kisses him. It’s sweet.

  There’s one question rolling around in my mind. Since Kale and Brynn don’t want the condo . . .

  Well? Wouldn’t you wonder the same thing?

  I saw the movie Misery four times, and until this moment, I thought of Kathy Bates as a maniac and I completely sympathized with James Caan. But I have to say, I just read the end of Cate Able’s book, and I’m livid.

  She killed off Karly Rose. She killed off Karly Rose! I’ve been following this woman’s life for six books. She’s a hard-hitting reporter with a lot of intuition and no fear, and Cate Able has the audacity to kill her off?

  I snatch up the receiver and dial Jack’s number.

  It takes four rings for him to answer. When he does, his voice is husky with sleep.

  “Did you know she was going to kill off Karly?”

  “Dancy?”

  “Yes, and don’t change the subject.”

  “Darling, do you have any idea how late it is?”

  “What? No. I’ve been working. I just finished the edit for Cate’s book. Do you have any idea what she did?”

  “Of course I do. It was time to let Karly go.”

  “But why? Sales are as high as ever. Why on earth would Lane Publishing be stupid enough to let her kill off her lead character?”

  “Perhaps she wants to move on.” Jack’s voice definitely sounds more awake now. And maybe a little annoyed. “Perhaps Cate is ready to stop being defined by the character she writes.”

  “But that’s ridiculous. Why on earth would she stop a sure thing? This is a beloved character. Karly should not die. It makes no sense, Jack.” I’m firm about this. I’m not going to back down. As a reader, I would be sorely disappointed. As an editor, I know this is a horrible mistake. The series isn’t even close to dying out. And the lead character shouldn’t be, either.

  But Jack’s having none of it. His tone is downright stormy. “Why on earth are you going on so? Cate has a perfect right to kill off her character.”

  “So you’re going to let her do it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Fine. You’ll have the edit back tomorrow.”

  I hang up, so angry I could throw something. Why on earth say he is “fascinated” with my editing if he can’t trust me on one of the most important issues I’ve ever taken to task in an edit?

  You know what? Let him ruin the whole thing. Let him get millions of readers up in arms. Let Karly die. I really don’t care.

  My eyes are gritty, and I’m so tired I can barely move. I glance at the clock. Four a.m. I give a little groan. I called Jack in the middle of the night to yell at him about a book.

  I dial his number again. “Hello, Dancy,” he says.

  “Hi. I just noticed the time. I wanted to apologize for calling so late.”

  “Or early, depending upon how you look at it.”

  “Right. Either way, I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “No worries, love. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  I hang up for the second time, but I’m disturbed by his defense of Cate Able. I wonder . . . are those two . . . ?

  Mother insists upon throwing a reception for Kale and Brynn “at the very least.” She hired a fast-thinking, fast-talking, exorbitantly priced party planner, and she’s pulling out all the stops. The reception is in the elegant Loews Regency Hotel on Park Avenue the weekend after Thanksgiving. Right after the happy couple returns from their honeymoon. The hotel can accommodate up to two hundred, so Mother pared it down from five. I swear . . .

  Once again, Brynn’s parents are forced to fly into JFK and endure a night of Mother’s pretension. At least she’s forgoing the ice swans this time.

  My legs shake a little when Jack walks into the room. For once, he isn’t seated next to me, though. To my relief, I might add. Sheri’s here, and Mother has seated Floyd next to her, so I guess she finally got the picture. I’m between Brandon and Aunt Tilly, and Aunt Tilly keeps burping. Brandon keeps staring over at the next table where Carol is sitting. Poor kid. He’s absolutely pining for the girl.

  “Why don’t you go talk to her?” I ask. “Dinner hasn’t even been served yet.”

  “You think it would be okay?”

  “Of course. You’re not a prisoner.”

  He gives me a crooked grin. “Okay. But if your mom yells at me for getting out of my seat, I’m blaming you.”

  “I’ll take the heat. Now go.”

  “You’ve grown fond of the boy?” Aunt Tilly, the shrewdest person I’ve ever met, watches him go.

  I nod. “He’s a great kid. Too bad his parents can’t see that.”

  “What’s he going to do when your mother and father move to Florida?”

  Oh. I wasn’t really sure about that yet. I shrug. “I guess he’ll go live with Nanny Mary.”

  Aunt Tilly’s wrinkles scrunch together into a scowl, which is a little scary. “Would you stop calling her that? Makes you sound like a seven-year-old.”

  “I know. It’s a habit.”

  “Well, stop it.”

  “You’re right. I’ll be more careful.” Somehow calling her Mary feels wrong, sort of like calling Aunt Tilly, Tilly. Or Mother, Caroline. Oh, well, I should just get over it.

  By the time the meal is served, Brandon’s back in his seat and his eyes are glowing with the shine of new love. Aunt Tilly is having trouble staying awake after drinking a glass of champagne. And I’ll just be glad to get this evening over with. Jack is seated directly across from me. I keep ducki
ng behind the huge rose and carnation centerpiece. Every time I meet his gaze, I think about the fact that he defended the worst decision Cate Able has ever made in regard to her books. Does he even realize how badly my self-esteem has been hit because of him? He gives me the edit to do, and then won’t trust my judgment in the end. Karly should not be dead. It’s a horrible move strategically. They might as well have killed off James Bond or Sherlock Holmes or Miss Marple. It’s stupid. And, yes, as a reader, I’m disappointed. But as an editor, I’m livid.

  I’m relieved when the meal is over and Dad taps his fork against his crystal champagne glass to get everyone’s attention. “First, Caroline and I would like to thank everyone for coming on such short notice. Next, we would like to propose a toast to our son and daughter-in-law. May you be as happy as Caroline and I are.”

  Is he kidding? My brother has a bemused look on his face, and I hear more than a few twitters of laughter around the tables.

  “Moron,” Aunt Tilly mutters. I find it hard not to burst into laughter at her remark, but I control myself as everyone lifts their glasses and toasts the new bride and groom.

  Dread washes through me as I realize he’s not finished. “We have an announcement to make.”

  Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe all he’s going to do is invite everyone to their vow renewal.

  “As most of you know, Caroline and I have reconciled.”

  Clapping—mostly out of politeness I imagine, because why is he suddenly making this about them, when Kale and Brynn are supposed to be the center of attention?

  “Thank you. But this isn’t about us.”

  There’s a relief.

  “We offered the kids the home we bought when Kale and Dancy were children. But they’ve decided not to accept. So, we’ve decided to sell the condo and give them enough to buy a home in Oklahoma.”

  More clapping. This time sincere. Only, my heart nearly stops. Why didn’t it occur to my folks that I might want to live in the condo? Am I really that much of a nonentity?

  “Don’t sweat it, Dan.” Brandon’s hand covers mine and I’m comforted by the warmth.

  “I—I’m not. I’m happy for them.”

  “Dad should have given the condo to you. You’re the one who cares about it.”

  Now how did he know that? I turn to him and search his wonderful brown eyes that are so like Dad’s. He shrugs. “I know things.”

  “You’re a smart kid, Brandon.”

  “Wish I was smart enough to figure out how to get Dad to let me stay in New York instead of moving to Florida.”

  “Don’t worry,” I assure him. “It’ll work out the way it’s supposed to.”

  Hope flickers to his eyes. “Think I could come and live with you?”

  “And Laini and Tabby?”

  “Tabby’s getting married soon. You’ll have an opening for a roommate.”

  “I know, Brandon, but Tabby shares a room with Laini. It’s not like a teenage boy could just move in and take over her bed.”

  A rush of red floods his cheeks. “Oh, yeah.”

  “I hope you’re going to say something to them about that condo.” This from Aunt Tilly.

  “What’s there to say?”

  “I could think of a few things.”

  I can imagine. I smile. “Don’t worry about it. I have a great apartment.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard. According to your mother, it’s a rat-infested sardine can of a place with holes in the walls.”

  “It is not!” There are no rats. At least, not for a few months. And the only hole is from when we tried to move the entertainment center and lost our grip. But we fixed it. And if she was really worried about where I live, maybe she would have thought about giving me the condo, or at least offering an affordable price and letting me buy it. But now it’s too late. I’ve lost the beautiful prewar place. Tears well in my eyes. Has it been long enough since the announcement for me to get up and leave the room without being conspicuous?

  It doesn’t matter. If I don’t go now, I’m going to end up crying in public and disgracing Mother.

  I barely make it outside the banquet room before the tears flow. I walk down the hall looking for a ladies’ room when I feel a hand on my elbow. I turn and look up into Jack Quinn’s compassionate eyes.

  “Dancy, sweetheart,” he says.

  Without a word, I melt into his arms and give in to my tears.

  21

  Valerie’s wedding day dawned warm but not too hot, just the right temperature for a spring day in New York. She stared at herself in the full-length mirror. She wore her mother’s wedding gown and a string of pearls, a wedding gift from her dad to her mom.

  Mom hadn’t been able to leave the orphanage in Africa to come to the wedding. She sent her love and a check and wished her all the happiness in the world.

  Valerie knew she was making the right decision. She just had to be. Ben was a family man like her dad. Valerie knew she and the children would always come first. He would never betray her. Not the way John Quest had.

  A tap at the door signaled it was time. Panic welled up for a moment. Could she really do this?

  The tap sounded again. “I’m coming.” She walked across the wooden floor and opened the door. Only instead of the wedding planner, she saw John kneeling on one knee, holding a black box.

  “Don’t marry him, Valerie. You know we belong together.”

  —An excerpt from Fifth Avenue Princess

  by Dancy Ames

  So you cried all over him and went to the powder room and he was gone when you got back?” The outrage is evident in Tabby’s voice.

  Laini, Tabby, and I are sharing cheesecake around the table and rehashing the reception.

  “It’s odd. He seemed so sweet and kind and then . . . nothing.” I give myself half a second to relive those moments of safety and warmth in Jack’s arms. Then I get mad all over again. “He’s just a jerk.”

  “You got that right,” Laini says. “You know what I bet it is?”

  “Hmm?” I ask around a gooey bite of cheesecake.

  “I bet he knows you’re right about that edit and he’s wrong, and he can’t face you.”

  They had overheard me discussing the book with Jack. I swear I didn’t intentionally break the nondisclosure clause.

  “You know what I think it is, girls?” My suspicions are stronger than ever. “I think Jack and Cate Able are an item.”

  “What?” Tabby says. “What makes you say that?”

  “They’re both English.”

  They look at each other and frown.

  Laini shakes her head. “I have to tell you, I’m not following this train of thought.”

  “Well, okay,” I say. “That alone isn’t enough to prove anything. But they work together and he’s extremely defensive of her. I mean, so much so that he can’t bear for me to criticize her. I think they’re a couple.”

  Part of me is convinced I only care because apparently Jack’s feelings for Cate Able have completely robbed him of any good sense he formerly possessed. I’d say the last smart thing he did was hire me to do the edit. And he won’t even let me do my job. I say, if she wants to be dumb and kill off a beloved and especially lucrative character, why drag Jack or Lane Publishing and now me into the chain of stupidity? Let her be stupid all by herself.

  Oh, well. I’m putting it out of my mind. I’m finished with the whole thing. I have turned in my edit, and now I wash my hands of the entire episode. I couldn’t care less if Jack is dating Cate Able. Seriously. It’s of no consequence to me. None.

  Shoot. I can’t stand it any longer. I snatch up my phone.

  Laini frowns. “Dancy, what are you doing?”

  Kale answers on the third ring. “Kale, is Jack dating Cate Able?”

  “What?”

  “Come on. I know you’re his best friend. But you’re my brother and I have to know.”

  “Sorry, Dan,” he says. “I agreed to nondisclosure where Cate Able is concerned.�
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  “Have you ever met her?”

  He chuckles. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Really? Tell me what she’s like.”

  “Sexy. Real sexy.”

  I groan. “I figured. I guess that explains a few things. G’night, Kale. Congratulations again on your wedding.”

  “Wait, Dancy. Did you talk to Mother and Dad after the reception?”

  “No. And I don’t want to right now. I have to go.” I click the off button and look up glumly.

  “Did Kale say Jack’s dating her?”

  “No, but he might as well have. I have no chance in you-know-where with Jack Quinn.” I turn to Tabby. “How are the plans coming along for your wedding, Tabs?”

  Tabby’s face takes on a serenity that, quite frankly, I envy. “It’s all coming together.” She frowns. “Remember you have one more fitting. Put down that cheesecake! And don’t miss our appointment with Freddie tomorrow. You know we aren’t going to have time to let out the dress again.”

  Heat burns my cheeks. We actually had to let it out from a size 4 to a size 6. Sigh.

  I gasp. “Do you think Jack thinks I’m fat?”

  “What?” Tabby expels. “Of course not. And I thought we were done talking about you.”

  “Well, what do you have to worry about?” I snap. “In three weeks, you’re marrying the man of your dreams and becoming mommy to two adorable twins.”

  “But what if I ruin them?”

  “Ruin what?” Laini asks.

  “You know, the twins. They’re such great kids. And I don’t know how to be a mom. Most people get to grow into it from birth. But I’ve only known them for a year.” She stabs a bite of cheesecake and crams it into her mouth. “I’m doomed to fail.”

  “Why do you say that?” I ask.

  “I hated kids until I fell in love with those two. I don’t deserve them.”

  I swear. What difference does it make, compared to my sad life? “You’re just borrowing trouble, Tabs.”

  “Yeah,” Laini soothes. “You’re going to be a great mom to those two.”

  “You think so?” comes her teary and quite pathetic question.