by Arlene James
“And then we’re going to pick and choose her projects very carefully,” Paul added, slipping the photo back into its sleeve and glancing at Joyce pointedly. “We’re planning one of those.”
“You’re planning a big belly?” Joyce said, feigning ignorance. As if in retaliation for her gibe, the baby kicked her so strongly that her stomach rippled. “Ow!”
Everyone laughed and gathered around to place hands on her tummy and feel the movement. With wonder in his eyes, Cal leaned down and kissed his wife tenderly, while Cass and Paul traded envious and knowing looks.
“What is it?” Joyce’s mother gasped, standing in the doorway with Cass’s father at her side. Alvin had dressed up for the occasion, wearing a red-white-and-blue bandanna tied around his head and a red T-shirt with his blue jeans. The American flag hand-painted on Mary’s cotton jumper and the glittering fireworks surrounding it addressed the Independence Day holiday more pointedly, and everyone on the place knew that Alvin’s outfit was meant to complement hers. The two had been inseparable almost since the wedding, and the fact that they were exact opposites seemed to add to rather than detract from the attraction.
“It’s nothing, Mother,” Joyce called, rolling her eyes but only so her immediate companions could see.
“You’re certain you’re not in labor?”
“It’s just the baby moving.”
Mary wrung her hands. “Oh, I don’t know what to think! You were born the very day you were due.”
“Now, now,” Alvin Penno crooned, patting Mary’s shoulder. “William was a late baby, you know, ten days. He turned out just fine.”
A snort announced Anna Penno’s presence. She pushed past her ex-husband, crowding Mary right into his arms. Alvin smiled down at the small woman, waggling an eyebrow lasciviously and not caring a whit who saw it. Mary’s face blushed a becoming rose, but she didn’t move away.
“What would you know about it?” Anna demanded imperiously. “Joyce’s environment is obviously hindering the birth. She needs her lodgings purified and someone to keep away evil humors.” She glared at Alvin, implying just which “evil humor” she had in mind.
Cassidy cringed and mouthed an apology at Joyce, who chuckled and shook her head before calling out, “Really, Anna? How interesting. Why don’t you come and tell me all about it?”
Cassidy could have kissed her, and she hoped that her smile showed it. Everyone was so good to her, so understanding. Paul’s family had saved them, kept them from losing each other. No wonder he was so devoted to them. They were all such sweethearts, Joyce especially.
Carl and Jewel came in through the patio doors, wet from the swimming pool, matching cover-ups belted at their waists. “Your pool is wonderful!” Jewel gushed, toweling her hair. “So much larger and cooler than ours.”
“I’ve worked up quite an appetite out there,” Carl said, patting his lean middle.
Paul started to rise, laughing. “All right, all right, time to fire up the grill.”
“Ah, you sit down, son!” Alvin said, hurrying across the room, Mary in tow at the end of his arm. “Let an old pro handle it.”
Paul subsided, but Cassidy sent him a look of alarm. Cal intercepted it and got to his feet, murmuring, “Think I’ll lend a hand. Those new gas jets can be tricky.” Cassidy breathed a sigh of relief. As he went past her, Cal leaned down and whispered, “Better than your mother’s purification rites.”
Cassidy giggled again, wishing she could escape so easily as Anna settled herself in Cal’s place and began to wax philosophical on Zen or some such thing. Fortunately Carl and Jewel provided an out. Laying a hand on her arm, Jewel bent close and said softly, “Darling, might we have a private word with you and Paul?”
Paul and Cassidy traded looks, then Cassidy nodded and got up. Paul led the way into the study and offered his uncle and aunt seats while Cassidy opened blinds to let sunshine into the room. Jewel refused with a smile. “Oh, no, dear, not in wet bathing suits. This won’t take long, anyway. We just wanted to get your read on something.”
Paul settled on the corner of the desk, and Cassidy moved to stand next to him. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “What’s up?”
Jewel looked to her husband, stepped close and slipped her hand into his. Carl cleared his throat. “Well, the thing is, William came to see us the other evening.”
“My William?” Cassidy asked.
Carl nodded. “You know, of course, that he and Betina have been...well, seeing one another.”
“Betina’s been leading him a merry chase, you mean,” Paul said lightly. “What of it?”
Jewel grew distinctly uncomfortable, looking down at her sandaled feet. Carl seemed to fortify himself. “The thing is, you see, William asked for our blessing. He intends to ask Betina to marry him, and he felt that the two of you should be forewarned. He says to tell you, as well, that he’d understand if you have objections.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes. William and Betina had teamed up as business partners after Paul had arranged to buy Betina’s shares of the bakeries. Since then they’d enjoyed surprising success in the real estate market. It was just like William, though, to kiss up to the family before proposing. He always tried to cover his bets. Paul took the news with more aplomb—or less concern. Shrugging, he merely said, “It’s nothing to me.”
Jewel relaxed somewhat. “Well, of course not. We merely thought, with the family connections...”
Paul looked at Cass. “What do you think, honey? Could you bear for my stepcousin and your brother to join forces?”
“Haven’t they already?”
“Looks that way to me.”
“If they can stand it, I suppose we can.”
“My attitude exactly,” Carl said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jewel put in. “They seem fairly well suited to me.”
Cassidy folded her arms, smiling wryly. “You could say that.”
“Well, then,” Carl said, “we’re agreed.” He began rubbing his hands together. “Now, ” he said to his wife, “let’s see how those steaks are coming along. I could eat my weight, I believe.”
Jewel laughed and shook her head. “Men.”
Cassidy and Paul followed them from the library, when the older couple slipped out the French doors to the patio, Paul said to his wife, “Frankly, I think they deserve each other.”
A quiet moment finally came about half past nine that evening when, with the house empty, Paul and Cass went through the ground floor turning off lights and locking doors. Arm in arm, they climbed the sweeping staircase to the broad landing that overlooked the entry. There they paused and moved together, arms lightly encircling, mouths meeting gently.
“Umm.” Paul lifted his head and smiled down at her. “And which room have you prepared for us tonight?”
She smiled secretively. “Ours. I thought it would be nice to utilize the balcony.”
His eyes gleamed. “Oh, did you? Care to give me a hint?”
She shook her head. “You’ll see.”
Together they turned and moved along the landing to what was, officially, their room, not that they were any more likely to sleep there than in any of the other bedrooms in the house. Cassidy opened the door and stepped back. Paul grinned and stepped inside, right into a room that would have made the most demanding of Turkish pasha’s proud. Colorful silks draped the walls and bed, creating a tentlike effect. Tasseled pillows were piled extravagantly. Persian rugs carpeted the floor. Incense burned in a brass stand. Bells tinkled lazily. Hands on his hips, Paul slowly turned in a circle to take it all in. “Amazing,” he finally said.
Cassidy came in and closed the door. “Not very theme appropriate for the Fourth of July,” she said, “but I wanted to surprise you.”
Paul hugged her. “Thank you, sweetheart. Now get ready for bed. I just might have a surprise or two cooked up myself.”
She raised an eyebrow at that. “Taking leaves from my book, Mr. Spencer?”
“Definitely, Mrs. Spen
cer. Now move.”
Laughing, Cassidy hurried into the large, well-appointed bath and began changing into her costume. Minutes later she slipped to the door that led to the bedroom and peeked out. Paul was sitting on the foot of the bed, cross-legged. He wore only a pair of blousy, black silk pants and looked utterly delicious. Cassidy pressed a button on the intercom system that piped music into the room. As the lilting exotic notes filled the air, she lifted her veil into place and twirled into the room, the coins on her headdress and belt jangling. Paul leaned back on his elbows and enjoyed the show, laughing as she undulated provocatively just out of reach.
Finally he leaped up and caught her against him, whispering, “I always wanted my own harem. I just didn’t realize that I could have it in one woman.” He plucked her veil away and kissed her before sweeping her up into his arms.
Their destination was not the bed, however, though that would come soon enough. Instead, he carried her out onto the balcony, where he lowered her bare feet to the carpet she had spread there and turned her to face the backyard. He pointed to a spot just above the tops of the trees. “Right there,” he said. “Watch.”
Cassidy leaned back against his chest and wrapped his arms around her bare middle, swaying to the music that wafted upon the heavy summer air. Seconds ticked by. Suddenly the dark sky erupted with colored, sparkling lights. “Fireworks! How beautiful!”
“To get a better view we’d have to be on top of the Ferris wheel at Fair Park,” Paul told her.
After several minutes of breathtaking displays, Paul put his mouth next to her ear and whispered, “Now.”
Missiles whistled in the distance. Pink and gold sparks flew in all directions, settling themselves into a picture of... “Cinderella!” she gasped.
Paul laughed. “It seemed appropriate. And now for the grand finale.”
Red, white and blue lit up the sky with the words, “Barclay Bakeries #1 in U.S.A.”
Cassidy screamed and spun around, hurling herself against her husband’s bare chest. “Is it true? Really? How wonderful, Paul! I knew you could do it!”
Paul closed his arms around her and whirled her through the open doorway into the bedroom. “I wanted to break the news in a spectacular way.”
“Spectacular means for spectacular news!” she gushed.
“Deserves a spectacular celebration!” Paul added.
The look in his eye left Cassidy in no doubt that it would be a very private celebration—and all the more spectacular for it.
ISBN : 978-1-4592-6648-3
A BRIDE TO HONOR
Copyright © 1998 by Deborah A. Rather
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