A Mother's Wedding Day

by Rebecca Winters; Dominique Burton

  “Don’t worry about it. The doctor said to give Steve a week, then you can visit him anytime you want.”

  “I’m glad you told me.” She studied his features almost nervously. “Are you going home?”

  “Are you?” he countered. “If so, maybe we could have dinner here in town first. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  “Actually, I’m on my way to a barbecue in St. Helena. My friend Nancy Owens and her husband, Pete, are giving it. Would you like to come?”

  Maybe he was hallucinating, but those jewel-like green eyes shimmering up at him looked sincere. “After waiting twenty plus years for an invitation, what do you think?”

  A slow smile curved her mouth. “I wasn’t very nice to you, was I?”

  “No.”

  “I had my reasons.”

  “I’d like to hear them. Why don’t I follow you home? Then I’ll take you to the party in my car.”

  WHILE MAX TALKED TO THE men, Andrea helped Nancy carry the leftover food back to the kitchen. For the moment, the two of them were alone. “Thanks for a wonderful evening. The dinner was fabulous.”

  Her redheaded friend rolled her eyes at her. “It’s not over yet. The Cinco de Mayo fireworks at the Lopez winery will be starting any minute.” With the fire watch so high, it was the only show in town.

  “We’ll be able to see it on the drive back home.”

  “Why aren’t you going to stay?”

  “I’m afraid we can’t.”

  Nancy flashed Andrea a knowing smile. “I wouldn’t want to stay, either, not when I could be alone with a man like that. Where on earth have you been hiding him all these years?”

  Nancy hadn’t asked the right question. “He runs the Chandler Corporation, remember?”

  “I’m not likely to forget. He’s so gorgeous I thought all the women here would pass out when you walked in.”

  Andrea tried in vain to suppress her own feelings of excitement at being with him. “Max does his father’s accounts and needs to finish them before he leaves for San Francisco first thing in the morning.”

  On the drive over to Nancy’s, he’d told Andrea he would be working on them while Steve was getting treatment. As for his heading back to the city, she’d made that up, but she didn’t want her friend getting the wrong idea.

  “There’s a lot more than business going on,” Nancy drawled with the persistence of a woman who’d been as much of a sister to her as a friend.

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “You’ve been lit up like a Christmas tree all night.”

  Andrea clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Has it been that obvious?”

  “Only to me, but then I’ve had the benefit of knowing you for years. His presence provides the missing piece of a maddening puzzle.”

  “Andrea?” a deep, familiar voice called.

  She swung around guiltily. “Max—I was just coming.”

  “There’s no hurry.” He moved closer.

  It was too late to wish he hadn’t said that in front of Nancy. “I’m ready.” She turned to her friend and hugged her. “Thanks again.”

  Max shook her hand. “We both thank you. I was just telling Pete I haven’t enjoyed a party so much in years.”

  “That’s nice to hear. Now that we’ve met, don’t be a stranger. Once it’s June, we’ll keep the pool open all summer. You and Andrea are welcome anytime.”

  His mouth, as well as his dark eyes, smiled. “I’ll remember that.” The man had so much male appeal, Andrea had to look away.

  Together they went back outside. After saying good-night to the crowd, they headed for Max’s car and he helped her in. Nancy’s home was only two miles from the de Roussillac vineyard. They drove in silence, but it was an easy one. As they pulled in, the first burst of fireworks lit up the sky.

  Max flicked Andrea a glance. “Let’s watch them from the veranda. But first I’d like us to program our cell-phone numbers. We need to be able to get hold of each other in an emergency or otherwise.”

  The otherwise part sent a shiver through her. After he’d helped her out of the car, she followed him around to the porch of the main house. They both perched on the railing for a better view.

  One of the big starbursts seemed to trickle down like fairy dust and almost touch them. “Sammi should be here. She’s always loved this holiday because it’s like the Fourth of July.”

  Andrea felt his gaze on her. “Dad told me things aren’t good between the two of you, but he didn’t explain why,” Max said. “Since I’ve never seen a mother and daughter as close as you, I can’t imagine it.”

  “I wouldn’t have imagined it, either.” She jumped to her feet.

  “Tell me about her. I’ve always had a fondness for her.”

  “When she was little, I was always afraid she drove you crazy.”

  “Anything but,” he said with a contemplative smile.

  Maybe it was the ache in her heart combined with the magic of the night. Andrea suddenly found herself telling him what happened the day Sammi found the diary and photographs in Chris’s backpack.

  When she’d finished explaining her reasons for not telling Sammi she had grandparents, Andrea was clutching the railing. “I did a horrible thing and deserve to have lost her love, Max.”

  “Not her love,” he answered quietly. “With time she’ll come to understand and forgive you, but she has to grow up first.”

  “She thinks she has.”

  “At her age, didn’t we think we knew everything?” he reasoned.

  Andrea lifted her head. “After my parents were killed, I’m afraid I didn’t do any thinking to speak of. Over the next ten years I mostly acted and reacted to any given situation. It wasn’t until your father gave me the opportunity to put my life together that I tried to start making responsible decisions.”

  She fastened her eyes on him. “Steve believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. Much as I wanted to go out with his dashing college-age son, I feared disappointing him. That was the one mistake I didn’t dare make.”

  Max’s lips twisted. “Dashing?”

  “Yes. Very.”

  “So it wasn’t because I was too young for you,” he said with a certain amount of satisfaction.

  “No. Your age had nothing to do with it. But that’s what I wanted you to think, because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “Hurt doesn’t come close to describing how I felt. Devastated would be more like it.” Max got up from the railing.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m a big boy now. What if I told you I’ve been dying to taste your mouth for over twenty years? I think it’s long past time I was given the opportunity, don’t you?”

  Andrea didn’t know anyone could move so fast. The only thing that registered was the crush of their bodies as he began kissing the very breath out of her. Obeying blind instinct, she melted into him and slid her arms around his neck. They’d finally crossed a line that had been holding her back for years.

  His hunger engulfed her in a mindless passion. This was the man she loved, the man she’d needed and wanted for so many years. The only thing that mattered was to get closer to him.

  His lips roved over her face and hair before returning repeatedly to her mouth. Their kisses deepened until Andrea was no longer aware of her surroundings. As if they had a will of their own, her hands slid inside his suit jacket to roam over his back, reveling in the play of hard muscles beneath his shirt.

  He intoxicated her with his touch, molding her to his body, caressing her with wild abandon until her limbs felt disconnected. Her rapture was so complete, she was barely cognizant of a phone ringing somewhere. Maybe it was Sammi, but in her dazed state it finally came to her it was his phone.

  “Don’t you need to get it?” Andrea asked incoherently against his lips. “It might be the treatment center.”

  After kissing her long and deeply, he eased away with obvious reluctance, to check hi
s caller ID. “It’s Mom. I’ll call her later.”

  He put the phone back in his pocket and started to reach for Andrea again. But she couldn’t put the call out of her mind and placed her hands against his chest. “What if it’s important?”

  “After the years I’ve waited for this moment, nothing is more important than this,” Max whispered against her mouth. Once again they were kissing with insatiable need. Andrea was on the verge of losing control when his phone rang again.

  “You’d better answer it, Max. What if she’s calling because it’s an emergency?”

  A resigned sigh escaped his throat before he allowed Andrea to escape from his arms. In the next breath he put his hands on his hips in a purely masculine gesture. “Since the divorce became final, every call from her constitutes an emergency in her mind. Which brings me to a grownup problem I need to discuss with you. It has to do with my father.”

  Something in his tone created instant tension. “That sounds rather ominous.”

  “Only because I don’t want to hurt you, but I know it will.”

  Chapter Six

  The fireworks continued to light up the sky, but Max’s words extinguished the joy Andrea had been feeling. “I see.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck absently. She sensed his hesitation. Though her trepidation was growing, she was intrigued, too.

  “Did my father ever tell you why my mother divorced him?”

  “No. I didn’t know she’d even filed. One day he simply announced that his divorce was final.” She spread her hands. “The news left me incredulous. For one thing, she’s loved him forever. In their own way they’ve hung on to their marriage all these years. To suddenly divorce him made no sense to me.

  “As for your poor father, I know how terribly in love he has always been with her. The shock was too much for him to bear. He simply closed up and started drinking more heavily than ever. You know the rest.”

  Andrea heard Max take a sharp breath. “Someone told my mother you and Dad were having an affair.”

  Andrea let out a sad little laugh. “Your father and I have put up with that gossip since the day he hired me. We always blew it off. So did your mother. In the beginning, tourists coming to the tasting room thought Sammi was our child. There’ve been times when Steve and I have hugged in happiness or in pain. Any number of people could have seen us do that.”

  His expression grew bleak. “This had to be as recently as five months ago when Mother decided to serve Dad with papers. The person in question said they were an eyewitness.”

  “To what? Intimacy?”

  Max paced for a moment before halting in front of her. “Who would have seen you with him who might have misunderstood what they saw?”

  “If you’re talking in the main house, no one. I’m in his bedroom every day cleaning up, making the bed, washing his clothes. In the last few months I’ve served him breakfast in bed more often than not because he has been too hungover to get up. Several times I’ve helped him out of bed so he could make it to the shower. I’ve also brought in the mail and sat on a chair at the side of mattress to read it to him, when his headaches were too bad to focus.”

  “Did anyone ever see you at those times?”

  “Only Sammi, when she was home for a day or two at a time before going off on another photo shoot.”

  “What about my mother?”

  “I haven’t seen her since before the divorce. Maybe she came in the house while I was working and didn’t announce herself, but after twenty-three years I can’t see her doing that.”

  “Nor can I.” Max rubbed the side of his hard jaw. “In order for my mother to believe the lie, it had to come from someone she trusted implicitly.”

  “Your parents used to entertain a lot. It could be any number of their friends, maybe even one of your French relatives who came to California for visits. They all love her so much. Your poor mother. I wish she would have told Steve what she’d heard and who told her. He would have gotten to the bottom of it in an instant.”

  Max eyed her with compassion. “Tonight you told me you lost confidence during your marriage to Sammi’s father. I don’t think my mother is so different. Beneath all her polish, she’s more vulnerable than most people know, and was too afraid to ask.”

  Feeling sick inside, Andrea moved to the porch steps. Looking back at him, she said, “Sammi once told me something Jim said about it not looking good for men clients to come in and out of the cottage. People might get the wrong idea.

  “I was disgusted he’d said anything to Sammi, and reminded her the studio was my place of business, so not to worry about it.” She felt a pain too deep for tears. “I should have looked for another job and moved away a long time ago. But I was so comfortable with the life I’d made here, it never occurred to me I was hurting your mother.”

  Max shook his dark head. “We already know Dad wouldn’t let you go. He could never have replaced you.”

  “Of course he could.” Her voice throbbed. “After all these years, it never occurred to me your parents would end up divorced because of cruel gossip. Tomorrow I’ll drive to San Francisco and talk to your mother. She needs to know the truth!”

  As Andrea darted away, Max caught up to her and turned her around to face him. “I couldn’t agree more, but don’t do that yet. Dad doesn’t want it to come out that he’s at the treatment center. Not yet, anyway. There’s something I have to do first. Do you trust me, Andrea?”

  With their mouths almost touching, her breathing had grown ragged. “Of course I do.”

  “Then give me time to sort this out.”

  The pleading in his voice had her nodding. She slowly eased out of his grasp. “Good night.”

  THE NEXT DAY Andrea pulled up in front of the Casa Bonita at 10:00 a.m. and hurried inside. The restaurant didn’t open until five in the evening, but this was a business meeting.

  She’d worn her professional two-piece yellow linen suit for the occasion. Because of the exposure it would give her, this could be an important commission if she got it. Valerie Lind, the present owner, had told Andrea to walk on back to the manager’s office. Since Andrea had worked here when she’d met Chris, she knew where to go.

  “Oh, good, Andrea. Come on in and sit down.”

  Andrea took a seat in one of the chairs opposite Valerie’s desk. An attractive, dark blond man, probably in his mid-forties, occupied the other chair. “Meet Brad Warshaw, who’s in charge of the entire renovation. Brad? This is Andrea Danbury, the artist who painted the tile samples.”

  He shook her hand. His blue eyes lit up in male admiration. “It’s a pleasure to meet someone so talented.”

  “Thank you. I’ve heard of Warshaw Interiors. From Napa?”

  “Yes. Is that good or bad?”

  She laughed. “Definitely good.”

  “That’s nice to hear.” His gaze lingered on her.

  Valerie sat back in her swivel chair. “I feel fortunate to have both of you on the team, so to speak. As I told Andrea the last time we met, Brad, a friend of mine built a new home in Calistoga. When I went to see it, I was enchanted by the kitchen decorated with Andrea’s hand-painted tiles. I got her name and called her to show me some samples.

  “They were so unique, my mind was settled on what I wanted to do with this place. It has needed an overhaul for years, but I couldn’t talk my father into doing it. This place is just one big, boring rectangle, with no real atmosphere for a Mexican restaurant.

  “Now that he’s passed, I’m free to go ahead with my plans. I told Brad I want him to design the place using your tiles as the inspiration, Andrea.”

  “That’s a real compliment, Valerie.” After the sleepless night she’d endured after Max had dropped his bombshell, she was pleased to get good news today. She’d needed something positive like this, especially when she hadn’t seen Max this morning.

  She ached for him. They should never have kissed. The events of last night had left a bittersweet memory, because she hadn’t
been able to get her mind off Helen’s pain.

  The man seated next to her eyed her speculatively. “I’d like to see all your samples. Would it be possible to do that today?”

  His question jerked her back from her torturous thoughts to the present. “Yes. Could you come to my studio in St. Helena at three? If you don’t see anything you like, I can sketch some ideas while we talk.” She handed him her business card with its map.

  He studied it for a moment. “Perfect. I’ll see you then.” He got up from the chair and shook Valerie’s hand. “You’ll be hearing from me before long.”

  “Wonderful. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

  After he left, Andrea chatted with Valerie for a few minutes, then left for the nursing home to spend a half hour with her aunt. Her day flew by. Once she’d closed up the tasting room, she hurried back to the cottage to grab a sandwich before Mr. Warshaw pulled up in his Audi.

  She let him into her studio. “Pardon the smell of paint. I don’t notice it anymore, but my customers do.”

  “I like it.”

  “You’re very kind.”

  His eyes told her he returned the compliment. “Valerie happened to tell me you’re not married. Since I’ve been divorced almost ten years, I think she mentioned it for a reason. When the day comes that I might get you to go out with me, at least you’ll know the most important fact about me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” His approach was different, but she’d been in Max’s arms last night and that was the only place she wanted to be from now on. With a smile she said, “The samples are over here.”

  In front of the wall with the fireplace she never used, she’d placed end-to-end banquet-size tables with stools. One held her tile samples and half a dozen portfolio-size folders with photographs of paintings she had for sale.

  The other one she kept free to do sketches or whatever was needed. “Go ahead and browse. Can I get you a cold drink? Sprite? Pepsi?”

  “A Pepsi would be great.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She walked through to the kitchen and got one for each of them. “Here you go.”