by Berg, Patti
“I’m afraid so.”
Charles walked into the room, setting down the silver tea service. “Shall I pour for you?” he asked, directing his words to Lauren.
“I’ll take care of it,” Lauren said. “Thank you.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
“The tea will be enough, Charles,” Celeste added, smiling at the man she’d rarely noticed over the years. “You’ve always remembered exactly how I like it. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for that.”
Lauren couldn’t miss the slight sparkle in Charles’s eyes. “I’m happy to serve you, any time you’d like.”
Charles was gone in a moment, probably as perplexed by Celeste’s sudden—but very lovely—change as Lauren was.
She watched her mother as she poured the tea. Celeste’s hands trembled and her eyes were rimmed with red. This was not the always-sure-of-herself mother Lauren knew. She was different, vulnerable, and Lauren’s heart warmed to her more than ever before.
“What happened?” Lauren asked, stirring in the little bit of cream her mother indulged in, and handing her the cup.
Celeste blew lightly on the tea and took a sip. “Gerald and I spent the past few days sailing, talking about you, how he wanted to marry again. It was all so idyllic and then we came back here... not more than an hour ago.” Celeste drew in a deep breath. “I was all prepared to talk you into going with us to his island in Fiji when the police came. It was awful, absolutely dreadful.”
“Why did they come here, Mother? Why not his yacht?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I should have asked, but it all happened so quickly. They had a warrant to search Gerald’s car and luggage and they found things that completely surprised me. Bunny’s necklace. That ruby and diamond necklace of yours that I love so much. I don’t know when he took it. Probably the night he was here for dinner. I was so stunned, so amazed that he’d take jewelry from his friends.”
“What made the police suspect him?”
“His ex-wife, Jessica, turned him in. You know how he always loved to give her jewelry. Apparently he made a mistake and gave her a piece that belonged to an acquaintance of hers. They searched his home in Martha’s Vineyard and found artwork and jewelry. It was staggering.” She laughed nervously. “I should have known.”
“He fooled everyone, Mother.”
Celeste reached out and clasped Lauren’s hands. “I wanted you to marry him. I’m so sorry, darling.”
“You just wanted me to be happy, that’s all.”
“No, you were right when we had that argument a few weeks ago. I’ve meddled too much in your life. First Chip, then Leland and Peter. I made wrong choices for you, and criticized you when you couldn’t make the relationships work.”
“I could have said no. Please, Mother, don’t worry about it.”
Celeste looked across the room, toward Max. “I owe you an apology, too.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Max said.
“But I do. I’ve been very judgmental, and I’m sorry.”
There was a moment of silence between them, Max studying Celeste, Celeste analyzing him, and finally a small smile touched Max’s lips. “It’s not a problem.”
“Thank you.”
Max walked toward Lauren and cupped her cheek in his warm, gentle palm. “I’ll be outside on the patio if you need me.”
Drawing his hand to her lips, she kissed it. “I’ll be outside soon.”
“Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
She watched him leave, knowing over the years she’d see him walking away from her many times, knowing, too, that he’d never be far away, that they’d always be there for each other.
“Do you really love him?” Celeste asked.
Lauren turned back to her mother, her heart bursting with all that she felt for Max. “He brings out the best in me.”
A slow smile touched Celeste’s face. “Then I’m happy for you.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I had a very rude awakening this afternoon when Gerald was arrested. I thought people like you and me were above all that.” She shook her head. “Now I realize we’re no different from anyone else.”
“There will always be differences,” Lauren added, “but it’s amazing how much we can learn from each other. I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve learned being with Max.”
Celeste laughed. “I can well imagine what Max has taught you. Probably things I would never approve of, but that’s between the two of you.”
Celeste rose from the sofa, smoothing her hands over her apricot linen skirt. “I’ve got a flight in a few hours, so I’d better go pack.”
“Where are you going now?” Lauren asked. “Aspen? Back to Rio?”
“I’m going home. I have a husband I love very much, a husband I never should have run away from.” She laughed lightly. “I have an awful lot of apologizing to do.”
“I have the feeling Andrew will forgive everything the moment you walk through the door.”
“I certainly hope so.” Celeste smiled. “I bought a lovely Carolina Herrera dress right before going sailing. I can’t wait for Andrew to see it. He has such wonderful taste in clothing, and... goodness, I shouldn’t be rambling so. You’ve got a young man waiting outside for you, and I’ve got a distinguished gentleman waiting at home for me. I think I’ll call him. Let him know I’m on my way.”
Celeste wrapped her arms around Lauren and hugged her closely. It lasted only a moment, but it was a memory Lauren would keep for a lifetime.
“Run along, darling,” Celeste said, as she breezed out of the library. “I’ll call you when I get home.”
Lauren watched her mother until she disappeared, listened until she no longer heard Celeste’s heels on the marble stairway, and then she walked toward the open French doors, toward the man she loved.
He leaned against the balustrade, his wild black hair blowing about, as he gazed toward the ocean. She stood at his side, loving the feel of his hand as it slipped around her waist, pulling her close, the place she always wanted to be.
“I’ve been thinking,” Max said.
“About what?”
“This partnership you want me to get involved in.”
“You mean Born To Be Wild Weddings?”
“Yeah. I’m not too sure a business partnership is going to work.”
He was teasing, of course. She could hear it in his tone of voice, could feel it in the way his fingers gently massaged her side, the way he kept inching her body closer and closer to his.
“It will work, Max. I’ve got the entire thing planned out. We’ll hold the weddings here because, really, this pink marble monstrosity isn’t fit for much of anything but parties, engagement balls, or a gala here and there.”
He tilted his head to look at her, and the twinkle in his eyes made her weak. “I take it you’re moving out?”
“That’s another plan I’ve been working on this past week. Do you remember that piece of beach property I showed you, the one I bought with money from my very first investment?”
“I remember.”
“Well, I was thinking that would be the perfect place for a home—a real home. Of course, I don’t want to live there on my own.”
“Do you have someone in mind to live there with you?”
“Charles, naturally, because I couldn’t possibly go anywhere without him. And Mrs. Fisk, because she knows all my culinary likes and dislikes.”
“Anyone else?”
She wove her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his, loving the feel, wanting to hold him and be held by him forever. “I might let you live there, too, and Jamie and Ryan, of course.”
“You’ll already have one chef.”
Smiling, she kissed his lips. “But no one can cook quite like you.”
“Is that so?” he asked, the twitch of his mustache tickling her mouth.
“Oh, most definitely. In fact, I’ve got this fantasy of you cooking i
n bed, feeding me all sorts of delectable treats.”
“Is there something you particularly enjoy?”
“Mmmm,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his scrumptious lips. “Anything Wilde will do.”
Epilogue
Lauren Remington’s wedding to Max Wilde would not go down in Palm Beach history as a highlight of the season. It would, however, be remembered as the only wedding where the groom wore a black leather tux while the bride wore a shimmering silver Oscar de la Renta original, where champagne flowed at the same rate as beer from kegs, and where pigs-in-a-blanket were arranged on silver platters right next to Caribbean brochettes.
The groom and his friends arrived in a thundering motorcade of choppers that contrasted sharply with the bride’s entourage, which came in a dignified procession of Bentleys, Mercedes, and Rolls. And then, of course, there was the highly unconventional entertainment.
Lauren clasped a hand against her chest. “I know Bear’s been doing odd things since Bunny dumped him. I know he meant well hiring a band of ex-cons to play at our reception and I’ve accepted the fact that most of them feel they got a bad rap, but please tell me he didn’t hire a stripper to round out the evening.”
Max chuckled at his wife’s anxiety. “Not a stripper, Lauren. A Las Vegas showgirl.”
“You might see a difference between the two, but I don’t. Goodness, Max! She’s not going to be topless, is she?”
“The only one who’s going to be topless is you.” Max pulled his frantic bride behind a secluded palm and took advantage of the privacy, trailing his fingers over her soft round shoulders, along the curve of her neck, at last tracing the silky skin edging the satiny fabric of her dangerously low-cut gown. “The topless part comes later, of course... when we’re alone, and I have the pleasure of slowly peeling off every stitch of clothing you’re wearing.”
She leaned into him, her heavenly breasts pressing against his chest as she kissed the base of his neck and made his body shudder. “There’s not going to be much to peel off,” she said, her words a mesmerizing purr against his ear. “Beneath this gown are a thong, a skimpy bra, and nothing else. I was afraid I wouldn’t have the patience for a slow striptease. Not tonight.”
“I don’t have the patience, either,” Max admitted, a definite understatement given his current state of anxiety. “So why don’t we ditch the rest of this reception and start the honeymoon ahead of schedule?”
“That’s such a lovely thought, Max, but we can’t leave until we’ve had our first dance together.” Her words whispered warmly over his mouth, making him want her even more. “After that, we have to cut the cake, toss the bouquet, and let the guests throw rose petals at us.”
“That could take hours.”
A seductive smile touched her lips. “So could a lot of very pleasant things I have planned in the days to come.”
“Ladies and gentlemen.” The squealing microphone and Bear’s booming voice tore Max’s attention away from paradise. Getting a grip on his senses, he tugged Lauren from behind the palm to face the laughter and questioning stares of the guests.
“Now that I’ve got the bride and groom’s attention—” Bear’s voice burst through the amplifiers, “I want to tell you about the special treat we’ve got for you this evening, straight from the Las Vegas strip.”
“Please don’t let her be topless,” Lauren chanted, as Max led her toward the bandstand.
“The little lady I’m about to introduce you to can belt out a song better than anyone I’ve ever heard,” Bear continued. “So, without any further ado, may we have a big round of applause for sweet, sweet Charity.”
Max and every guest watched in awe as the long-legged, black-haired knockout stepped from her hiding place behind the band and strolled toward Bear wearing the shortest, tightest, reddest mini-dress Max had ever seen.
Applause erupted through the crowd. Well... the men were applauding. The women were far more subdued, except for Lauren, whose eyes fixed on the stunner from Las Vegas. Even Pastor Flynn was caught in her trance. Max didn’t know the man, but Lauren had told him time and again that Mike Flynn hadn’t been interested in women since his wife died. Apparently she didn’t know the stalwart minister, and her brother’s ranch foreman, all that well, because it was more than obvious he found the showgirl intriguing.
Maybe it was her longer-than-long legs Mike found fascinating. Maybe it was her wild black hair. Hell, Max didn’t care what attracted Mike to the woman, he just wished she’d sing so he could dance with his wife.
Charity took the microphone from Bear. “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft and low as she faced the gathering, hitting Mike with a killer smile that could have knocked a lesser man off his feet. Slowly she turned her focus on the other guests. “I’ve always loved the song Lauren picked for her first dance with Max.” Her voice was melodic, and Pastor Flynn looked completely captivated, Max thought. “I don’t think anyone can sing ‘Could I Have This Dance’ quite like Anne Murray, but the words are beautiful and perfect for two people beginning a life together.”
Charity’s dark brown eyes sparkled as she looked across the dance floor. Her gaze rested momentarily on Lauren, then trailed toward Max. He saw something familiar in the tilt of her smile, but the remembrance was fleeting, chased away by the tinkling of the piano and by the nearness of his wife, who swayed with him when he pulled her into his arms.
“I’ll always remember...” Charity began, and the beautiful lilt of her voice filled the air.
Max pressed his cheek to Lauren’s, tuning out the music, listening only to the rhythm of his heart beating in time with his wife’s. They circled the pool and their guests, but Max saw only his bride. She was lovely and warm and he lowered his mouth over hers, kissing her tenderly, feeling as if his heart would burst with happiness.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” Lauren said, her smile and the trace of tears in her eyes charming him as nothing ever had.
Suddenly their song ended and another began. A blur of family and friends began to dance, a male voice sang into the microphone, and the cool night breeze whispered around them as Max led Lauren away from the crowd, needing to have her all to himself.
Stars and thousands of miniature lights twinkled around them. Lauren had master-minded this whole incredible event, yet all Max wanted was to spirit his wife away from the festivities, to leave the reception and begin the honeymoon. But a gentle hand touched his shoulder, drawing him to a stop. The showgirl stood at his side, smiling with question-filled eyes.
“I think you might be looking for me.”
Max frowned, shaking his head. “You must have me confused with someone else.”
Her dark brown eyes sparkled. “I’m sorry. I was under the impression you were looking for your sister.”
Lauren’s fingers dug into his arm as he stared at the woman in red.
“Charlotte?” he asked, the word nearly sticking in his throat.
“I haven’t gone by Charlotte in years. I’m Charity now.”
All Max could do was stare, trying to match this woman with the four-year-old who’d waved goodbye to him twenty years ago. She had the same black hair, the same brown eyes, but he was afraid to get his hopes up.
“How did you know I was looking for my sister?” he asked, his words short, to the point.
“Your investigator told my parents, for starters.”
“Harry never said anything about looking for a Las Vegas showgirl.”
“I’m afraid my parents would never divulge my current occupation to anyone. I imagine your investigator was looking for a shy young girl with her nose in her Bible.” Charity smiled. “That was me in a former life.”
Max wasn’t buying it. “How do I know you’re my sister.”
“Goodness, Max!” Lauren glared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Can’t you see the similarities? You’ve got the same eyes, the same smile.”
Lauren made it sound so easy, bu
t he’d seen too many other women over the years who had his eyes, his smile. Too many other women claiming to be his sister, when they weren’t.
“Do you remember where we lived?” he asked, ignoring Lauren’s protests, needing some kind of confirmation from Charity.
But she shook her head at his question. “My parents wouldn’t tell me much about my life before they adopted me—only that my name was Charlotte Wilde. I don’t have an original birth certificate. I don’t have any old photos, and it was just a week ago that my parents told me I might have a brother. I had to persuade them to give me Harry Crow’s phone number, and I had to beg him not to tell you I’d be coming today. I wanted time to try and remember the early years of my life before seeing you.”
“And did you remember anything?” Max asked, some of his skepticism easing away.
“Only this.” She pulled a lock of hair away from her forehead to reveal a scar not more than an inch long. “I remembered an accident and my head hurting. I remembered crying, and someone holding me, making me feel better until the ambulance came. But that’s all.”
Max touched the scar lightly, remembering the accident, remembering the way he’d pulled Charlotte into his arms and pressed his T-shirt to the gash on her forehead, telling her everything would be all right.
But everything had gone all wrong. Charlotte had disappeared, leaving a hole in his heart for twenty years.
Now—finally—she was back.
Max felt tears welling in his eyes, felt his wife squeezing his hand, felt as if the best day of his entire life had suddenly gotten even better.
He pulled his sister into his arms, holding her close, letting the reality of the moment sink in. “There’s so much to talk about, so much to tell you.”
“And I’ve got at least a million questions—but they’ll have to wait till later.”
“Why later?” Max asked, holding on to her hands when she tried to pull away. “What’s wrong with now?”
“Because this is your wedding day. Because you’ve got a honeymoon to go on and I’ve never come between a husband and wife and I don’t intend to start now. Besides, I flew in just for the day. I’ve got a plane to catch in less than two hours—”