The Reinvention of Mimi Finnegan (The Mimi Chronicles Book 1)

by Whitney Dineen

  We wish Joseph a goodnight and then we sit in silence, both lost in our own thoughts, both of us wondering if it’s possible we might just meet him back here next year after all.

  Chapter 25

  I will remember that evening for as long as I live. It almost feels like Joseph Collins has become our mascot; someone else cheering our way to a happy ending. After all, Kevin is on my side, but he also really likes Beatrice so I don’t quite feel like I have his undivided loyalty anymore. My family doesn’t even know how I feel about Elliot and while Richard wants me to be happy, he sure doesn’t want it to be with his competition. I finally feel like there’s someone else on this earth pulling for Elliot and me and it feels really nice.

  After we walk back from the park, Elliot sees me up to my room. I invite him in, not sure what I’m expecting to happen. What does happen is I change into my nightgown and Elliot holds me until I fall asleep. We hardly speak as our bargain forbids us from talking about the one thing at the forefront in both of our minds.

  I only remember one of my dreams this morning and it’s a doozy. I dreamt that I was walking down the aisle in a packed church, all decked out in my wedding dress and veil. I recall having no idea who my groom was and as I walked and walked and walked down what felt like the mile long walkway. I finally reached the altar to find both Elliot and Richard waiting for me. The minister recited the wedding vows as though they were one man and asked, “Do you Elliot Richard take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love honor and cherish until death you do part?”

  The Richard part of the equation says, “I do” at the same time that Elliot answers, “It’s just so complicated.” As I relive my dream, the realization hits me that I’m going to keep seeing Richard. I know I’ve just met him and no sane person would consider marrying a man they had only set eyes on for the first time, days earlier. But I’m not saying I’m going to marry him. I’m saying I’m going to keep seeing him. And if love should grow between us before Elliot comes to his senses and declares himself? Then I will marry Richard. After all, he’s no Linden Fairbanks and in no way would I be settling with him. If Richard and I wind up together, I will always know I did very well for myself.

  As soon as I get out of bed, I knock on the connecting door. When Elliot opens it, he’s already showered and dressed for the day. He bestows a sad smile on me and asks me in. Things between us have changed since last night. I no longer feel the need to scream at him or wring his neck or even call him names. My energy has shifted to a place of acceptance. Whatever will be, will be.

  Elliot looks like he hasn’t slept at all. In fact, he looks like he’s battling an inner war and neither side is showing signs of surrender. I inform him I’ve made a decision and he looks at me both nervously and expectantly. I confess, “Elliot, I’ve decided I have to choose once and for all whom I want to make happy.” Again with the puppy dog look. I continue, “So I choose me. I’ve spent the better part of my adult life without a companion and even when I’ve had one, I’ve been lonely. I don’t want that for myself. Therefore, I simply choose me. I’m not going to settle for a man who doesn’t love me and I’m not going to settle for one who won’t put me first. So you’ve got some thinking to do and some choices to make.”

  He inquires, “You’re going to keep seeing Richard then?”

  I ask, “Are you going to keep seeing Beatrice?” He is clearly upset by my decision and I continue, “Elliot, it’s not the Middle Ages. A woman can get married if she wants. She doesn’t have to settle for being a man’s mistress if she wants more for herself. I’m not going to continue to see Richard to make you jealous. I’m going to continue to see him because I deserve to have a wonderful man love me and me alone.”

  Staring out the window, Elliot says, “I want that for you too, Mimi. It’s just that it’s so complicated.”

  Again with the complicated! So I ask, “Why? Why is it so complicated? Tell me about it and maybe the two of us can figure it out together.”

  He turns to me with a pained expression and says, “I can’t tell you. I gave someone my word.” Then with a pleading look, he continues, “But you could find out if you wanted to.”

  Ah, the familiar anger is coming back. “I’m not going to turn detective to try to unearth your secrets, Elliot. If you want to share them with me, then share them with me. If not, I’m going to move on. Let me know if you decide to open up and maybe I’ll still be around. But just so you know, maybe I won’t.”

  I get up to leave and Elliot blocks my exit. He opens his arms to me and I gladly walk into them for what could be the last time I feel them around me. In a very bold moment, I declare, “Just so you know, Elliot Fielding, I love you.”

  He groans and replies, “I love you too, Mimi Finnegan. I really do.”

  It occurs to me that the schmaltzy romantic endings in chick books are not the way life works out. But then again, last month there was no one beating down my door and now, I have two extraordinary men vying for the role of “man in my life.” I am not going to go against my grandma Sissy’s advice and look a gift horse in the mouth. No siree, Bob. I am going to thank my lucky stars I have a gift horse at all. Then I briefly wonder what the hell a gift horse is anyway.

  As I go back into my room, I feel a renewed sense of well-being. I could have easily told Elliot I would wait for him always, but then I would most likely spend my life waiting and that’s not what I want. I want to actually live. Too many years have passed me by and at the grand old age of thirty-four, it’s time to quit watching from the sidelines. This is my play (Ollie’s and Stan’s really, but I’m starring in it) and I’m ready to kick my understudy off the stage and take over. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we Irish love nothing as much as a mixed metaphor. Well, perhaps a mixed metaphor with a Guinness on the side, but you get my meaning.

  Elliot and I meet Marcus and his crew at ten a.m. for a breakfast meeting. I cringe to think how much I’m going to weigh when I step on the scale Saturday, so I order half a grapefruit and two pieces of dry whole wheat toast. No, it’s not in the least bit satisfying but hopefully it will keep Edith Bunker quiet. Edith Bunker, by the way, has been remarkably tight lipped for the last twenty-four hours and I try to encourage her silence by wearing sensible shoes today. You see, I am a team player, regardless of what she would have you believe.

  After breakfast, Elliot goes off with Marcus to speak at a book convention, and I spend a couple of hours in Marcus’s office at Parliament hammering out the details for tomorrow night’s party at Daniel, yet another New York institution. While sitting behind his big desk staring out at the Manhattan skyline, I wonder if I’ll take Marcus up on his offer to move to New York. I mean I love being so close to my family in Pipsy, but New York would be an adventure. I could be the heroine of my very own Sex and the City. The thought makes me a little giddy. So I pick up the phone and call Richard.

  He answers on the third ring, “Hello?”

  “Good afternoon, kind sir. How are you today?”

  I hear the happiness in his voice as he jokes, “Well, Mimi Finnegan, as I live and breathe. What are you doing right now?”

  I groan, “I’m starving is what I’m doing. My breakfast stopped working hours ago.”

  “Where are you?” I tell him that I’m at Parliament and he says that he’ll pick me up out front in twelve minutes for lunch.

  I laugh, “Twelve minutes, huh? That’s a pretty exact science.”

  He laughs, “Well, eight to sixteen really.”

  I quip, “So I might actually have to wait for you?”

  He responds, “Or I might have to wait for you.” His words carry a double meaning that mine don’t. I tell him to hurry up and get here, I’m famished.

  Richard picks me up in a town car and we drive over to the docks. We stop at a small café and pick up an order he has already called in and he suggests we eat by the water. As we walk down one of the piers, eyeing the gorgeous boats, or should I say yachts, I declare
, “This is lovely but I’m ravenous. Let’s find a park bench and eat.”

  Instead of going back towards the benches, Richard grabs my hand and speeds up. He stops in front of a pristine white vessel named “The Soapy Sails” and gestures for me to climb up. I’m horrified, “Richard, I’m not going to eat on somebody’s boat. What if we get caught?”

  Just then a man in white pants and navy jacket, with a very official looking captain’s hat peeks over the side. I immediately apologize, “I’m so sorry. We were just fooling around.”

  But he ignores me and says to Richard, “Mr. Bingham, we’re all gassed up and ready to go.”

  I look at Richard in shock, “This is your boat?”

  He smiles, “It sure is. I hope you don’t get seasick.”

  I’m so excited I’m about to pop out of my skin, “We’re going out on the water on your very own boat?”

  He confirms, “As long as you don’t get seasick.”

  I have no idea if I got seasick or not because let’s be honest, I’ve only been boating on a lake, as Pipsy is not exactly ocean adjacent. Without actually lying, I tell Richard I’ve never been seasick and I happily climb up on deck ready for my next adventure.

  I simply cannot believe this is really happening to me. Richard’s yacht is easily big enough to host a party of two hundred. The deck is a beautiful polished teak and the fittings are blindingly, shiny brass. I lay back on a deck chair and look up at the sails and exclaim, “I can’t believe you are taking me out on the ocean!”

  He is enjoying my enthusiasm and says, “This is why I love being with you so much. All of the women I’ve gone out with in the last several years, take this sort of experience for granted, but you? You’re really excited and you don’t mind showing it.”

  “Really excited?” I demand, “Really excited? How could I not be really excited? This is amazing!”

  Just as I finish my declaration, Richard leans towards me and kisses me. Not the kind of kiss we shared to make Elliot jealous either, but a real live honest to goodness, hot-blooded, full throttle lip-lock. And I let him. In fact, I do more than that, I kiss him back.

  When he finally pulls away, he says, “I should apologize as I know your affections lie elsewhere, but I’m not going to because I’m not at all sorry.”

  With a shy smile, I reply, “Neither am I.”

  Richard inquires hopefully, “So there still might be a chance for me?”

  Remembering that I choose my happiness above all others, I answer, “Yes, Richard, there’s still a chance for you.”

  I don’t even mind that our lunch consists of greasy burgers and fries. I eat every last bite, points be damned, and tell Richard if Edith Bunker starts complaining, I’m going to give her his number. He sits up with a funny look on his face and declares, “I think it’s time I meet this Edith Bunker, don’t you?”

  With a look of horror on my face, I declare, “I do not. Good Lord, Richard, I am not going to introduce you to my bunion!”

  But before I grasp his intent, he grabs my right foot and runs his hand up my calf. He pulls my leg towards him until my bunion and I have scooted right up against him. I beg, “No Richard, please, please leave Edith Bunker alone.”

  But he pulls my shoe off anyway and gradually runs his fingers over my foot. When he gets to the bump beneath my baby toe, he starts to rub it with deep kneading strokes and I let out a groan of sheer pleasure. I hear him say, “Edith Bunker, I’m Richard Bingham and I’m delighted to meet you.” He continues to rub my foot and asks, “What is she saying?”

  I smile and answer, “She’s saying, don’t stop.” And he doesn’t. Moments later, I add, “She likes you. She just said that you have amazing hands.”

  Richard grins, “Tell her to pass the word to her friends.” Then he naughtily adds, “My specialty isn’t actually bunions.”

  I want to know what his specialty is but I don’t ask. However, I do feel a wicked thrill run through me as I speculate. We spend the better part of four hours out on the water. We cruise around the statue of liberty and then around the East Side of Manhattan before finally pulling back into Richard’s slip. The last two hours have been spent sitting side by side with his arm around my shoulders. By the time we’re back in the harbor, I think Elliot had better hurry up and make up his mind because given a little more time, I could fall for Richard Bingham in a big way.

  Chapter 26

  Tonight Elliot and I are going to the theater to see The Book of Mormon. I’m looking forward to spending another evening with him with no ulterior motives other than just enjoying our time together. After all, he knows I’m going to continue to see Richard and if he wants to keep me from winding up with the competition, he had better get a move on.

  I pick out another new dress tonight. This one is white chiffon with rhinestone encrusted straps. It’s as simple and elegant as it gets and with my new red hair, it’s also quite stunning. I strap on a pair of silver sandals that are going to make Edith Bunker scream, and grab a matching evening bag. I’m ready to go when Elliot knocks on our adjoining door at six-thirty.

  He looks as wonderful as ever and I just stare at him for a moment before I brightly ask, “Are you ready to go?”

  Smiling, he asks, “Would you lend me an arm for a little extra support.”

  Concerned, I inquire, “Do you want to bring your crutches?”

  He affirms, “I don’t think I’ll need them. They were more for precaution than anything else.” So I offer Elliot my arm, and he in turn wraps his around my shoulder in a very proprietary manner; a way that doesn’t seem to offer him any support at all, but makes me smile.

  We have seven o’clock reservations at Gramercy Tavern and I make a great effort to eat reasonably, roasted chicken breast and steamed veggies, no bread, no butter, no dessert. I’m trying to atone for my afternoon of debauchery. Marge would have been very disappointed that I ate the whole bun with my burger (there was no onion though so it wasn’t technically a bunion, much to Edith Bunker’s relief) right along with a whole order of French fries.

  “The Book of Mormon” is hysterically funny and Elliot and I have a fabulous time. When it’s over, I’m ready to hit the hay. It’s been a long day. Yet I discover that Elliot has made different arrangements. Once we get back to The Plaza, he leads me across Central Park South to a hansom cab that is waiting. Inside is a bucket with chilled champagne and long stemmed red roses. He hops in first so he can help me up and I am thoroughly touched he has planned all of this for me.

  After he pours me a glass of champagne, we sit back and enjoy our ride through the park. Elliot tells me about his day and offers that the conference went well. Then he asks me what I did. I’ve already decided I’m not going to go out of my way to tell him about Richard but I’m not going to lie to him either. So I relay that I spent the afternoon on Richard’s boat. Elliot is not pleased, and he takes my champagne glass from me and puts it in the bucket along with his. Then he pulls me next to him and asks, “Did he kiss you?”

  I reply, “Elliot, why do you want to know that?”

  “Because I do. Did he kiss you?” I tell him yes and he asks, “Did you enjoy it?”

  I’m starting to get mad and answer, “Yes, he kissed me and yes, I enjoyed it. Is that what you want you hear?”

  Before I know what’s happening, Elliot has pulled me into his arms and is devouring me with his mouth. This is more than a kiss, it’s a branding, a show of ownership. His breath tastes sweet like champagne and his hands are rough and insistent as they slide up the back of my dress into my hair. There is an urgency to his assault that leaves me feeling like I’m free falling from an airplane. It’s all I can do not to jump into his lap. Elliot is apparently reading my mind because before I know it that’s exactly where I am. I cannot seem to get enough of him, this stuck up, uptight, hoity-toity perfectly wonderful Englishman has taken over my brain. Elliot becomes frenzied as he pulls the straps of my dress down as the cab slows. He calls out for the driv
er to keep going and before I can come to my senses, he’s kissing me again. His hot tongue is running up my neck and into my ear. He whispers, “Mimi, I want you so much,” as his hands cover every inch of my body. I feel like a switch has been turned on and I light up like a Christmas tree. I have never been this out of control in my life. Elliot groans, “I want to make love to you, Mimi. I need to make love to you.” He has moved so he’s on top of me and I’m lying on the bench beneath him. He inches my skirt up all the while kissing my neck and sliding the top of my dress down. The cool air feels decadent as the motion of the carriage seems to rock us like we’re in a cradle.

  Elliot forces himself to slow down and manages to say, “Mimi, I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone in my life. But you had better tell me now if you don’t feel the same way.” I don’t say a word, I can’t. I know I should tell him to stop, but what if this is the only time I get to be with him in this way? Could I live with myself knowing that I passed up this opportunity? So I just stare at him and keep my mouth closed. Elliot falls on me and nearly devours me whole when he realizes that I’m not going to call a halt to his desire. He reaches to unbutton his pants and before I know it, he’s inside me rocking to the motion of the carriage. My body splinters apart like a detonating bottle rocket and I feel the tears streaming down my face.