She’d heard Reese talk about it in the past, and though she’d been a donor to the Brookes Foundation—a small one, but a donor nonetheless—she’d never attended it. Hell, she’d never attended any fund-raiser quite like this one. The Refugee Center had mostly relied on public and private grant money, and the few events they’d had were much smaller affairs.
Held in the Galaxy Ballroom of a midtown hotel, this fund-raiser was no less than a gala event—silent auctions of big-ticket items, open bar, hot buffet, live music... The guest list was a veritable Who’s Who of New York, and they were guaranteed major press coverage.
She needed to find an appropriate dress. She added “ask Julia about dress code” to her list of notes for their meeting.
“You must be the new Reese.”
She’d left her door open, but the voice still startled her. She spun her chair around to see a well-dressed woman of indeterminate age due to severe botoxing standing in her doorway. The woman looked vaguely familiar...
Dylan’s mother.
Marnie shot to her feet and stepped around the desk. “I’m Marnie Price.”
“Felicity Brookes.” She extended a hand wearing quite possibly the biggest sapphire Marnie had ever seen. Not that Marnie needed the name or the ring to know exactly the kind of woman she was. The air of money and upper-class privilege was obvious. Felicity Brookes was the Yankee version of her own mother: well-bred, well-married, pillar of the community.
“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Brookes. You may not remember me, but I’m an old friend of Reese’s. We met at the engagement party.”
Mrs. Brookes’s lips tightened briefly. That’s probably a sore topic, best avoided, and probably something she’s well aware of anyway.
“Of course, Marnie. Welcome to the Brookes Foundation.”
“Thank you. I’m very happy to be here.” Okay, now what? No one had said anything about Mrs. Brookes being a regular visitor to the office—or what to do if she did show up. She racked her brain for any scraps of information Reese might have dropped but came up empty. “Would you like to have a seat?” Marnie had to move a pile of file folders from the guest chair. “I’m sorry about the mess. It’s my first day, and I’m still getting things organized in here. Could I get you a coffee? Some water?”
“No, thank you.” Mrs. Brookes sat, so Marnie did the same. “Tell me, Marnie, what made you decide to apply for this position?”
There was no way to sidestep the landmine. “Reese loved working for the Foundation and talked about it constantly—I knew they did good work, important work, and they did it well. And since I enjoy important work done well, this seemed like an ideal situation for me.”
“I assume you’ll be focusing immediately on the fund-raiser.”
Marnie couldn’t tell if she was doing well in this interview or not. “Yes, ma’am. I’m familiarizing myself with it now. It’s quite the event.”
“It is, and it’s very important that it’s done well. It’s our public image. I expect you to remember that.”
Marnie automatically sat up straighter, feeling chastised. “Of course.”
“May I be frank with you, Marnie?”
She swallowed. “Please do.”
“I realize you came highly recommended by Reese, but in light of recent events, I’ve been forced to reevaluate my faith in Reese’s judgment.”
“I see.” And she did. Clearly. Reese had embarrassed the Brookes family—particularly Mrs. Brookes—by choosing Mason over Dylan, and Mrs. Brookes wasn’t happy about that. It was a good thing Reese had already planned to quit, or else she may have found herself fired by her former almost mother-in-law. As a friend of Reese’s, she was tarred by that brush, and this was her warning she was already on thin ice. Lovely. I’ve had this job less than eight hours and I’m already on the boss lady’s hit list.
“Excellent. I hope you are as good as everyone says you are.”
Thankfully, Marnie was spared from having to come up with a response to that when Julia stuck her head around the door.
“We’re all waiting on you, Marnie... Oh.” Julia stopped, eyes widening. “Mrs. Brookes. How lovely to see you. I had no idea you were coming by today.”
“I just came to meet the new addition to the team. But I won’t keep her any longer.” She stood and tucked her purse under her arm. “Julia, it was nice to see you, however briefly. I look forward to getting your update on the plans for the fund-raiser. Again, Marnie, welcome.”
With that, she left, sending junior staff members scuttling from her path.
“Sorry I’m late for the meeting.”
“Don’t worry. You were a little busy.”
“She hates me already.”
Julia shrugged. “I think you’re right. But don’t worry about her. Dylan’s really the one who makes all the decisions, so as long as you stay on his good side, you’ll be fine.”
Somehow, that wasn’t any better.
* * *
He had a ton of work to do. And this morning, he’d had every intention of staying in his office and getting it all done. That intention was now a paving stone on the road to hell, thanks to one text from Marnie.
He’d left before his secretary—something that never happened—totally at the mercy of his libido.
Marnie was proving to be very dangerous. And one hell of a distraction.
The bad part, though, was that he really didn’t mind.
She’d picked up food on the way—a pizza that had gotten cold when she’d all but tackled him as she came through the door—and they were picnicking on the coffee table.
Her blouse and skirt were on the floor of his bedroom, and she’d borrowed one of his T-shirts to put on while they ate. Her cheeks were still flushed pink.
She was even a distraction from food.
Marnie was bubbling over with excitement after her first day on the job, telling him things he already knew about the Foundation, but from a different perspective. She bounced from the office staff to what to wear to the fund-raiser without stopping for breath, and her passion about her new position pinged something in his memory. “Can I ask you something?”
She reached for her wine and settled back against the couch. “Sure.”
“When you were asked at your interview about why you wanted this position, you said you knew what it was like to feel trapped and afraid to try to escape. What did you mean?”
Marnie sighed. “You couldn’t ask an easy question, could you?”
He briefly worried he’d stumbled into something he shouldn’t, but when she sat her glass on the coffee table, he assumed he was about to get an explanation.
“I didn’t mean to sound so dramatic about it or imply that I’d experienced anything like what our clients have. It’s not the same thing at all, and I know that.” She snorted. “Break out the violins and cry the little debutante a river.”
“Just because other people might not think it’s a big deal, that doesn’t mean you can’t be affected by it.”
She nodded. “I was raised in what you’d call a very conservative home. Politically, socially, religiously. There were very, very clear lines about life and the world and my place in it, and I never thought to question any of it. I was rock solid in my convictions. No gray areas. No questions. My life had a plan. I was supposed to go from my father’s house, to the sorority house, to my husband’s house. College was really just for finding a husband—preferably a doctor or a lawyer, because that has some real social clout, but anyone rich would do—then I’d have a few kids, join the Women’s Auxiliary...” She laughed. “Look at your face. Yes, that attitude still persists. The women’s lib movement never quite took root in the Price family.”
It sounded like Marnie had been raised in the fifties instead of Savannah. The contrast of the possibility with the reality in front of him was extreme. “I can’t imagine you like that.”
“Hard to believe, huh? I look back and just cringe. But something changed in me that year I spent
at Hillbrook, even though I didn’t know it. When I came home, my life didn’t seem to fit right anymore. It took a while to figure out why, and when I finally did, I couldn’t see a way out of it. My family and friends were a part of what I was trying to escape. I didn’t have any money, and I wouldn’t be able to access my trust until I turned twenty-five. I felt trapped, like I was in a cage, but I tried to make the best of it, hoping I’d eventually get that surety back.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I finally swallowed my pride and reached out to Reese. She helped me find a job and get settled here, and I’ve never looked back.”
That explained Marnie’s extreme loyalty to Reese. “Is that the cause of the rift between you and Carter?” At her look, he added, “I talked to him some at Tuck’s wedding, and I saw how you two didn’t talk. It’s easy to tell there’s a problem there.”
“Let’s just say it didn’t help.” She shrugged again. “So, while it’s not exactly an inspirational story of overcoming any real hardship, I do understand what it’s like to want out of your life and not know how to actually do it.”
“I won’t lie to you and say folks should make movies about your trials, but it still took guts.” He grinned at her. “And now I understand the doilies and your Southern guilt.”
She nodded regally. “I may be a shocking disappointment to my mother, but I shall not shame her memory with poor hospitality and manners. I was raised better than that.” She cut her eyes at him as she refilled her glass. “Speaking of mothers... I saw yours today.”
Dylan tossed his piece of pizza back into the box. “And I just lost my appetite.”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic.”
“You’re going to tell me she didn’t put a damper on your day?”
“It was a bit of a downer, especially for my first day at work...”
“And, see, you just made my point.”
Marnie shook her head at him. “So what is the deal with your mother?”
She’d have to be a lot more specific. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t dodge the question. You’re the one who started this conversation.”
“Then let’s pick a new topic. Something more fun, like peace in the Middle East.”
“Oh, no, no, no, you’re not getting away with that. And anyway, if your mother is going to make random trips by my office, I think I should know what I’m up against.”
“Make the Foundation look good, and my mother will be happy. And she doesn’t normally stop by unannounced. It must be because you’re new.”
“That’s kind of what she said. But then I got a warning not to screw up the fund-raiser. And, by the way, she’s really not happy with Reese.”
“It’s kind of hard to blame her for that. She’s still touchy on the subject.”
Marnie bit back a laugh. “Fair enough.” She met his eyes and swirled her wine in her glass. “So what’s your deal with your mother?”
“She’s crazy.”
“No, seriously.”
“I am serious. My father’s just as bad.”
Marnie shook her head. “They seem perfectly sane to me. I mean, your mom’s a bit puckered up about Reese, but that’s hardly a reason to question her sanity.”
He sighed, debating what to say. But he had been the one to open the door to the confessional. He couldn’t really complain that Marnie returned the favor. “You’re right. My parents seem sane. They also seem like a happily married couple.”
Marnie’s eyes widened. “They’re not?”
“My parents have not spoken to each other—unless in public—in over five years.”
“That’s...um...”
“That’s an improvement. For the twentysomething years before that, they did nothing but fight—and I mean fight dirty. Yelling, throwing things...”
“Why don’t they just get a divorce?”
“That’s the million dollar question—and it has nothing to do with division of assets. My mother was a Caffery—which may not mean anything to you—but a Caffery-Brookes wedding made them both ridiculously rich and influential and it only grew from there. Neither one of them is willing to give up their position on the totem pole. So they present a harmonious, united front to the world.”
“That is a little crazy. And since you know about my family, you know that’s not a word I toss around lightly.”
He tried to be nonchalant about it. “It works for them, though.”
“But that had to suck for you. Growing up in a house that tense, I mean.”
“They took over different floors in the house when I was about eight, so that helped. Then they sent me to boarding school, and that was a lot better.” He saw the look of pity creeping onto her face. That’s why he never talked about this. Not even to Reese—although she knew some of it—because he didn’t want pity. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Feel sorry for me. I don’t.”
“I can’t help it. That borders on child abuse.”
“No one’s family is perfect.”
Her lips thinned out, but she nodded. “True.” She took another sip of her wine. “It explains a lot, though.”
He was getting to know Marnie pretty well. He didn’t have to ask what, because she’d tell him soon enough. It took less than a minute.
“Your mother kept talking about the image of the Brookes Foundation and how important it was that it not be tarnished.”
He nodded. “And that’s why my parents seem normal in public. Reputations and images are what’s important.”
“It also explains all your emotional baggage about solid foundations for relationships and good partnerships for teamwork.”
“That’s not baggage. That’s a solid life philosophy stemming from seeing the opposite in action.”
“If your parents never loved each other—”
“I didn’t say that. Quite the opposite, actually. It took a couple of years for the romance and chemistry to fizzle, but it was too late by then. They’d built their little mini-empire, and they weren’t willing to give that up.”
“But they’re miserable. And they made you miserable. It’s amazing they accomplished anything.”
“My parents are actually pretty good partners—at least when it comes to the things they both deem important. They just had different expectations going into the marriage and when that didn’t work out...”
“And that’s why you look for that solid foundation instead of great passion.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t put another person—much less a child—through that. My expectations are very reasonable.”
Marnie stared into her wineglass. “Wow. Way to aim low.”
He looked at her. “It beats the hell out of the alternative.”
She shook her head. “Your parents are not the alternative. Your parents are an anomaly at best. I’ve seen the mirror image of your parents’ marriage, and trust me, it’s not real pretty, either.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really.” She sat her wineglass down and crossed her arms. “My parents never loved each other. Their marriage was more a merger to create that ‘good team’ than anything else. They were never happy, but they were the perfect couple. My mother was the perfect wife and helpmate, hostessing the dinners, running the PTA and the Women’s Auxiliary, raising the children. My father gave her everything she wanted. They were leaders in the community and the church, and they were miserable. My father started having affairs, and my mother accepted it even as she resented it. But they never fought and never considered divorce. My home was stable and peaceful and they made a hell of a team. But they didn’t love each other and eventually they didn’t like each other anymore, either. If I ever get married, I want a hell of a lot more than that. I prefer to aim high.”
It was a passionate speech and a lofty goal. “It’s a good way to miss and fail spectacularly.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“And I’ll take mine.”
Marnie shrugged and took a long drink of her wine.
It struck him a little late how very odd this conversation was considering what they were—or actually, weren’t—to each other. The resulting silence was awkward and tense, and he didn’t want awkward and tense.
But she wasn’t getting up or getting dressed, so... “Maybe we should just declare that subject off-limits.”
“Sounds very smart. I’m sure you’ll find the woman who fits that bill one day, and I’ll be happy for you when you do. I’m now going to recommit to my vow to stay out of other people’s love lives.” Just like that, her mood turned sunny, and she smiled as she passed her glass to him. “More, please.” As he poured she laughed and added, “It’s a good thing you’re not my type.”
“Amen to that.”
And just like that, she let it drop.
It wasn’t until later that night, after he’d put Marnie in a cab home and crawled into his bed alone that her words started to bother him.
SEVEN
Marnie took one look at the fourteen different types of cake to taste and wished she’d brought clothes to change into. The pencil skirt she’d worn to work today was classic and gorgeous and did wonders for both her figure and her confidence, but it did not have the extra space she was going to need for this.
Reese had gathered all four of her bridesmaids—including Amber, who Marnie didn’t really know all that well, only having met her at dress fittings and such at her bridal salon. But since Amber was going to be marrying Reese’s brother, Marnie wanted to get to know her better.
But she wasn’t sure she wanted to eat fourteen different kinds of cake.
“Tell me again why we’re doing this with you instead of Mason?” she asked Reese.
“Because Mason doesn’t care and I need opinions,” Reese replied. “Plus, it gives me the chance to hang out with you all.”
Gina raised an eyebrow at the display. “I hope no one is on a diet.”
“I’m glad none of us are diabetic,” Cassie added.
Last Groom Standing Page 10