Moon Over Montego Bay

by Jane Graves

  Sarah wanted desperately to enjoy herself, to be looking forward to getting married and beginning her life with Randall. But through it all, she kept shooting sidelong glances around the area, wondering if Nick was going to show up. He was determined that this wedding wasn't going to happen, and her mind went wild with the ways he might ensure it didn't.

  When the rehearsal was over, they all headed to the Crystal Ballroom, where the rehearsal luncheon was being held. It had floor-to-ceiling windows. A panoramic view of the Caribbean Sea. Beautiful centerpieces. Turquoise tablecloths and coral flowers that echoed the colors Sarah had chosen for her wedding.

  The colors Mona had chosen.

  As soon as that thought came to mind, Sarah drove it away. Mona may have suggested them, but she had wholeheartedly agreed, and she was glad she had. The look was spectacular. Caribbean without being kitschy. Bright without being overwhelming. Every inch of it reflected exactly the lifestyle Sarah had always dreamed of, but now it felt as if she was on the outside looking in.

  Since the number of people attending the wedding was small, all the guests were invited to the rehearsal luncheon. Randall's relatives filtered into the room, and it felt to Sarah as if half of Chicago society had converged in Montego Bay. Mona's cousins were cut from the same cloth she was, and Randall's father's relatives were likewise impeccably dressed and fell into step at the resort as if they were born there.

  As Randall talked with a random uncle about the eighth hole at Cinnamon Hill, Treva glanced around the room. "You've outdone yourself on the decorations," she told Sarah, then laughed a little. "I don't know where you got your taste, but it certainly wasn't from me."

  "Mona did most of it," Sarah said.

  "Well, it was nice of her to help you, wasn't it?" Then her face fell. "Oh, my. Your father is talking to Mona's cousin, Sharon."

  "Is that a problem?"

  "Only if he starts talking about fertilizer again. Excuse me, sweetie."

  As her mother walked away, Liz sidled up next to Sarah. "Pretty room."

  "Thanks. Mona did it. I just went along for the ride."

  "Well, it's pretty just the same. You, on the other hand…"

  "What?"

  "I've seen homeless alcoholics who look perkier than you do right now."

  "Oh, God," Sarah moaned. "Is it that bad?"

  "Most people won't notice because they don't know you like I do, but the last time I saw you looking this hung over was at seven in the morning after prom night. What's up?"

  "I guess I drank a little too much last night. How does my sunburn look?"

  Liz tilted her head. "You covered it up pretty well. Now it looks like a three-alarm fire instead of five."

  Okay. That was improvement. She'd take whatever she could get.

  "So…" Liz said. "Have you seen Nick this morning?"

  Just the sound of his name made little shivers rush up Sarah's spine. "No," she said offhandedly. "Maybe he left the island."

  "Maybe he did."

  Sarah whipped around. "Do you think so?"

  "Wow. Big reaction. Which is it? Are you afraid he didn't? Or if he did leave, do you wish he hadn't?"

  Sarah turned away. "Forget Nick. I don't want to talk about him."

  "Okay, so why don't you talk to him?"

  "What?"

  Liz nodded over Sarah's shoulder. "Speak of the devil."

  Sarah turned to see Nick standing near the door. Her heart leaped, then settled into a heavy, thumping rhythm. He'd traded his shorts and flowered shirts for a pair of conservative pants and a shirt with a buttoned-down collar, and he wore an actual pair of shoes. She felt a rush of relief. Maybe that meant he intended to behave himself, watch his brother get married, then fly back to Park City.

  Nick scanned the room, and the moment their eyes met, he had the nerve to give her a great big smile. Was that a "don't worry" smile, or a "wait till you see the havoc I'm going to create" smile? Maybe he was lulling her into a false sense of security right before he stood on a chair and announced he had carnal knowledge of the bride to be, after which all hell would break loose.

  What if he did it? What if he made good on his threat?

  Her wedding would never happen.

  She waited to feel panic at the thought of that, but strangely, she didn't. Instead, the oddest feeling came over her, a dreamlike sense that maybe the only thing worse than Nick stopping her wedding was him not stopping it. No wedding, no Randall, no Mona. Just freedom.

  And Nick.

  "Pardon me, milady."

  Sarah turned to see the maitre'd behind her.

  "Lunch is served."

  "Thank you." She turned to Liz with a warning stare and whispered, "No more about Nick. Now, come on."

  They met the other members of the wedding party at the front of the room, where they took their seats at a long table with Sarah and Randall together in the middle and their respective bridesmaids and groomsmen on either side. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Nick maneuvered his way to the nearby table where her parents sat.

  Randall suddenly came to attention. "Nick is here."

  "Looks that way."

  "He's sitting with your parents."

  "Yeah. I guess he is."

  "That's not good."

  "You're obsessing."

  "That's because I know my brother."

  Sarah slid her hand onto Russell's thigh beneath the table and forced a smile. "Forget him. This is about us." She leaned in and gave him a kiss, and his frown relaxed into a semi-smile.

  "Fine," Randall said. "But I'll still be keeping an eye on him."

  "This is a nice luncheon, isn't it?" Treva said, as she poked at her appetizer with her fork. "I knew this was a luxury resort, but I didn't expect anything like this."

  "Yeah, it's nice," Nick said. "But sometimes a big ol' plate of barbecued ribs is nice, too."

  Treva smiled. "You sound like Carl. Unless it's fried, barbecued, or thrown on the grill, he's not interested." She poked for a moment more without eating, then laid down her fork. "Nick?"

  "Yes?"

  She lowered her voice. "What can you tell me about your brother?"

  Nick was surprised at the question. He took a sip of water, then spoke just as quietly. "What would you like to know?"

  Treva leaned in and dropped her voice even more. "What kind of man is he?"

  "I'm not sure I understand the question."

  "He's obviously very successful."

  "Yes."

  "Handsome."

  "Yes, ma'am. Almost as handsome as his brother."

  Treva smiled. Then her face grew serious again. "You two are different."

  "We most certainly are."

  "Night and day, it seems."

  "Yep. Black and white. Oil and water. All those opposites apply." Nick paused. "Any reason you're asking about Randall?"

  "It's just that we don't know him very well. He didn't ask Carl if he could marry Sarah. He just up and gave her a ring."

  "That's Randall for you. He's not one to ask permission for much of anything."

  Treva nodded. "Guess he's used to having people ask him permission."

  "Yeah. I guess he is."

  "He seems a little…distant. I know he's a very important man and all, and men like that have a lot on their minds…" Treva smiled and waved her hand. “Oh, who am I to say anything? I'm just a farm girl who wouldn't know the first thing about people like the ones in your family. Different doesn't mean bad, now does it?"

  "No, ma'am. If different meant bad, I'd be out in the cold for sure."

  Treva's mouth turned up slightly. Then she looked to the front of the room, and it drooped again. "She's not smiling nearly enough."

  "What?"

  "Sarah. No matter what, she's a smiler. Comes naturally to her. But ever since we got here…" Then Treva waved her hand. "Never mind. There I go being silly again. Sarah's got a lot on her mind. Being a bride is a stressful thing. It's nice that Mona is stepping in to
help her with the wedding plans."

  "Yeah. Mom's like that. Always the picture of helpfulness."

  "Nick?"

  "Yes?"

  "Will Randall be good to her?"

  Don't ask me that question! "She'll have everything she could possibly want."

  There. He'd spoken the truth without speaking the whole truth.

  "I guess what I mean to say is…will she be happy?"

  Nick was blindsided by the direct question. He knew Treva was asking only because she loved her daughter and wanted the best for her, which made the lie come even harder. But what else could he do at this point?

  "Yeah," he said, choking on the words. "She'll be happy."

  Treva smiled. "That's good to hear. But please don't tell Sarah or Randall that I talked to you. Not that I want to keep things from my daughter, but—"

  "I understand. I won't say a word."

  "Hey, Nick!" Murphy shouted from across the table, pointing to his appetizer. "Do you know what this stuff is?"

  "Ceviche.”

  "Cevi—what?”

  “Fish marinated in lime juice. It comes out like it’s cooked, only it isn’t.”

  “Raw fish?” Dickey said, making a face.

  “Not exactly,” Nick said.

  “Close enough.” Dickey shoved his plate away, but Murphy scooped out a chunk of fish and squinted at it. Then he popped it into his mouth. "Hmm," he said, chewing. “Not bad. Suppose we can get a whole bowl of it?”

  As he searched the room for the waiter, Nick couldn't help smiling. That ought to make his mother stroke out.

  Then he glanced back at Treva. She was staring at Sarah with a wistful look on her face, which made him feel even guiltier than he already did. Treva sensed this was all wrong, but she wasn't about to tell her daughter that, because it wasn't her life to lead. Sarah didn't know just how lucky she was to have a mother who loved her so much she accepted her choices without judgment. Nick had never experienced that, and he likely never would.

  Lunch was probably pretty good, but the food seemed to slip right past Sarah's taste buds. She could have been eating cardboard and wouldn't have known it. Nick tried a few times to catch her eye, but she refused to look at him. By the time the waiters cleared the dessert plates, her nerves were shot.

  As everyone sipped their after-lunch coffee, Randall stood up and cleared his throat. He thanked everybody for being there to share the big event with them. Then he looked down at Sarah and gave her a calculating smile.

  "And now I have a very special gift for my fiancee."

  A gift for her? Yeah, she expected a wedding gift from Randall, but right out there in front of everyone? She'd gotten him a new watch, engraved with their wedding date. But she'd expected to give it to him later in private.

  Just then one of the resort employees brought something tall and skinny on a stand into the room. He turned it horizontally, grabbed a tab, and pulled it upward. A screen? At the same time, another man wheeled in a projector and flipped a button or two. Then he handed Randall a remote control.

  As the crowd began to murmur speculatively, Kelsey leaned over to Sarah and whispered, "Any idea what's up?"

  "No," Sarah said.

  "Whatever it is, he couldn't bring it with him," Liz whispered, and then her eyes lit up. "Maybe it's that red Mercedes convertible you always wanted!"

  "I never wanted a red Mercedes convertible."

  "Oh, wait," she said. "Maybe that was me."

  For some reason, Sarah started to get a little nervous. Then she told herself at least it wasn't jewelry. Randall would have pulled that out of his pocket. Anything but a gigantic, useless sapphire or ruby or whatever would be just fine.

  Then he flicked to the first slide, and Sarah was confused. A house?

  No. It wasn't just any house. It was maybe the most beautiful house she'd ever seen.

  As Randall flipped through the slides, stating the amenities of the house like a high-class real estate salesman, her heart pounded madly even as her brain refused to accept it. State of the art kitchen…mahogany floors…wine cellar…saltwater pool with fountain and waterfall…

  Good Lord. He'd bought her a house.

  "Holy crap," Kelsey whispered. "It would take twenty of my apartments to fill up that thing."

  Sarah felt a swell of excitement, even as a few doubts crept it. It was an incredible house. But he'd actually bought it and never said a word to her? How did he know she'd like it?

  The answer was obvious. Because any woman on earth would like it, wouldn't they?

  The crowd oohed and ahhed over every photo, but Sarah also sensed them looking at her, gauging her reaction.

  "And thanks to my mother for all her hard work overseeing the renovation and working with the decorator," Randall said. "I'd say the result was worth it, wouldn't you?"

  All eyes went to Mona, who smiled demurely as everybody applauded, but all Sarah heard was my mother…decorator…all her work…

  Randall hadn't bothered to tell her, but his mother had known all about it? And when had she come to Houston to do all that work, anyway?

  "When Sarah and I leave Jamaica, this will be our new home," Randall announced, flipping to a slide of the address carved into a stone pillar. "Sixteen-Fifteen Ballinger Drive."

  Then Sarah noticed something for the first time. The address was in small print at the top of every photo in the real estate listing, along with the city it was in.

  Chicago, Illinois.

  14

  Sarah stared dumbly at the slide. No. Surely that couldn't be right. Their new home was clear across the country?

  "And that brings me to more good news," Randall went on. "One month from today, my father is retiring, and I'll be taking over as CEO of Baxter Industries."

  As it all came together in her mind, Sarah froze with disbelief. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't.

  The corporate office was in Chicago.

  So this was why Randall had been even more consumed than usual with work since they'd gotten to Montego Bay. He was putting the finishing touches on his ascendency to the head of the company.

  "So what do you think, Sarah?" Randall said, giving her self-satisfied smile. "Surprised?"

  He'd bought a house and hadn't consulted her. He was moving them to another state as if it was nothing. He planned to take over for his father without saying a word to her. And he expected her to be happy about it?

  Sarah felt every set of eyes in the room on her. Kelsey and Liz were clearly waiting for her reaction before showering her with congratulations. Her parents looked shell-shocked at the out-of-the-blue news that their daughter was moving to another state. Mona wore a smug, self-satisfied expression, as if she'd had a master plan and executed it flawlessly.

  And then there was Nick.

  For a moment he stared at Randall with thinly-veiled disgust. Then he met her gaze, and she saw what he was thinking as clearly as if he'd shouted it. I told you so…I told you so…I told you so…

  Every muscle in her body froze with fury. Then all at once they thawed, as if the heat from a thousand suns blazed down on her. She leaped out of her chair and headed for the door. She heard muffled murmurs of confusion behind her, but she kept walking. She went down the hall that led to the atrium, her heels clicking angrily on the marble tile.

  "Sarah!"

  Randall hurried up behind her, pulling her around to face him. "Why did you run out of there? Tell me you're just overwhelmed by my amazing gift."

  "Gift? That wasn't a gift!"

  "What do you mean?"

  "That was you telling me we're moving to Chicago. And you sprang it on me because you knew I'd be upset, but you figured I wouldn't make a scene if we were in front of all those people."

  "It seems to me as if you're being a little ungrateful," Randall said. "I bought you a house.”

  "I'm not being ungrateful! I love the house! How could I not love the house?"

  "Then what's the problem?"

&
nbsp; The problem was that he didn't get that there was a problem. "It's in Chicago."

  "Yes. In Lincoln Park."

  Sarah froze. "Your parents live in Lincoln Park."

  "Of course they do. It's the best neighborhood in the city."

  Oh, God. This couldn't be happening. Mona was going to be so close she could walk to their house?

  “Tell your father no," Sarah said. "Tell him you don't want to take over the company, that we're not moving to Chicago."

  Randall drew back. "Nobody tells my father no.”

  “It’s our life, Randall. Ours. Not your parents’. You told me we’d be staying in Houston.”

  “For the time being.”

  “No,” she said carefully. “You told me any future decision to leave would be up to us, so we could stay forever if we wanted to. My family is nearby.”

  “If my father trusts me enough to hand me the reins of the company he built with his own hands, I’m going to take them.”

  Sarah was astounded at the turn this had taken. It was as if they were on different planets. Did Randall truly not see how she felt about this?

  “You’ll like it in Chicago,” he said.

  “Are you kidding? The lake winds are horrible in winter!”

  “The culture there is amazing. Museums, art galleries, theater—“

  “We have all that in Houston.”

  “The shopping on Michigan Avenue is great.”

  As if she gave a damn about that? He was saying that only because he’d heard his mother say it about fifty thousand times since he was in diapers.

  “What about my job?” Sarah asked.

  “You can find another one. There are nonprofits all over Chicago.”

  But she didn’t want another job. She was so lucky to have found one that made her happy to get up in the morning, a place where she felt as if she was contributing to something important, a place where she could use the MBA she’d worked so hard for but not lose her soul in the process.