by Kim Karr
We stopped when James had gotten close enough to kiss her on the cheek. Once he pulled away he said, “Mother, I have someone I want you to meet. This is Lindsay.”
I stepped out from behind him, finally managing to put that smile on my face.
“Oh…hello,” she said giving me only a quick glance before looking back to her son. “I wasn’t aware you were bringing a guest. You should have told me, I would have made arrangements to keep her occupied while the photographer is at work.”
“There’s no need for that,” he said, “she’s going to be in the picture with us.”
One of her hands flew to her thin neck and the other grasped the side of her perfect cream suit, and then the corners of her mouth turned down. I wasn’t expecting a warm embrace, and it’s a good thing, because what I got wasn’t even close.
Her gaze filled with disdain as she decided to give me another look. This time it traveled over my face and lingered on my hair, full and wavy. Then her eyes darted to my hand, caught tight in her son’s, and the disdain on her face only grew.
“Mother,” James said sharply. “I said this is Lindsay.”
She seemed to recover from her social misstep, and as if choking out each word, she said, “Oh…yes, of course. Nice to meet you.”
Mrs. Ashton didn’t have a first name to me, and even if I knew it, I don’t think I would have called her anything but Mrs. Ashton. “Nice to meet, Mrs. Ashton,” I said, extending my hand.
She did not take it.
I wondered if I should curtsy. Perhaps she preferred to be treated like a queen. But I refrained from doing anything but placing my hand back at my side.
James ignored her, and asked, “Where’s everyone else? Lindsay and I have some news we’d like to share when we’re all together.”
Just then, I heard the distinctive thump of tiny feet. “We’re all up here getting ready, brother dear, don’t worry, we’re on our way down.”
I swallowed hard and lifted my chin, preparing for more stunned looks from James’ sisters.
“Oh, good. There you all are,” his mother said, looking toward the staircase. “I’m going to get the photographer.” And then before she left the room she added, “And James, I’d like to talk to you in the kitchen, alone.” I’m not sure if James was ignoring her, or didn’t hear her, but he never responded. Instead he focused on the group of people coming down the stairs.
James had three younger sisters, none of which lived in New York. One was married and lived in Connecticut with her husband and two daughters. His other two sisters were still in college. One went to a school in Toronto and the other went to UCLA.
The two little kids were first down the stairs. The oldest stopped right in front of me with wide eyes. The youngest, a toddler in a gold dress, climbed up the chair beside me and touched my hair over and over.
A beautiful woman with long, honey blonde hair wearing a long, flowing cream dress and ballet flats hurried after the kids and spoke softly when she caught up to them. “Chloe, honey, don’t do that. It’s not polite.”
Chloe didn’t stop. “But, Mommy, she looks like Ariel.”
Those chubby little hands pulled on my hair until my gaze shifted back to her, and I smiled.
“Are you a princess?” she asked.
I laughed. “No, I’m Lindsay.”
James scooped her up and blubbered the side of her neck until she squealed. “She’s my princess,” he said, and then handed the little girl back to her mother, before grabbing the older child to do the same.
My heart instantly swelled at his words, and the sight.
His sister extended her free hand. “Hi Lindsay, I’m Natasha, and this is Chloe and Cassie, and the sleepy looking guy coming down the stairs is my husband, Calvin.”
I took her hand, and then after James greeted Calvin, I took his. “Hi, nice to meet you both,” I said.
The click clack of high heels brought all of our heads around. Two beautiful blonde girls came down the stairs, each wearing very short ivory dresses. One wore a chiffon baby doll, the other wore a satin off-the-shoulder style.
As soon as they reached the ground, they ran and threw their arms around James shouting, “We’ve missed you,” at him.
When he was able to break away, he introduced me. They were both polite, but they had a mischievous twinkle in their eyes.
Audra was the youngest and went to school in California. She brushed her hand over James’ head and said, “You know you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”
“What’s new,” James laughed, ducking out of her grasp.
Olivia was the older of the two. She went to school in Canada, and according to James, wanted to stay there after graduation. Looking at me, she leaned closer to James and whispered, “Mom doesn’t allow boyfriends and girlfriends in the family photo, and you know it.”
He leaned closer too. “Well then, it’s a good thing she’s my wife. Isn’t it?”
“What?” Shocked voices filled the space. “When? Where?”
Natasha was the first to expel a full sentence. “Congratulations. My brother finally tied the knot, I can’t believe it.”
All three of his sisters hugged me, welcomed me to the family, and started asking all kinds of questions.
“James!” It was his mother, she’d come back in the room with the photographer trailing behind her.
Everyone went quiet, except the little girls, who were singing a song I had a feeling was from the Disney movie, The Little Mermaid.
“I want to speak with you now. Alone.” His mother’s voice boomed.
Audra and Olivia’s eyes shifted anywhere but at me. Natasha stood close and gave her brother a pat on the back. Calvin had the girls beside him, lowering himself to whisper to them to be quiet for a few minutes.
This was bad.
This was so, so bad.
James leaned toward me and kissed me. “I’ll be right back.”
I nodded.
I waited, my eyes darting nervously between everyone. They were all talking once again, continuing to ask me questions. It was a chorus of, “How long have you two been dating?” and “Why has he been keeping you a secret?”
Honesty was always the best policy, but just then it didn’t feel like it. Despite this, I told the truth.
The shouting coming from the other room made it hard to focus, though. Still, I did my best to carry on the conversations, until the words, “Money hungry floozy,” echoed through the main floor.
Now everyone shut up. No one said a word, including the kids. Even the photographer, who had been rearranging the furniture to accommodate the size of the family in one seating group, stopped with a chair in midair.
A cool breeze blew in the room, and the smell of roses wafted in. Fall was really in the air. I stared at the garden on the terrace. It was lovely. There were planters filled with flowers of all varieties and a furniture grouping with which to sit. The temperature was unseasonably warm, and with the rain as light as it was, it was barely noticeable.
The shouting continued, although no words could be deciphered anymore. Soon though, I heard another voice. It sounded like a woman. And then there were three people shouting. I had no idea who had joined in. The stylist perhaps? A housekeeper? A maid? Maybe even a cook? There was no way of knowing.
Everyone around me starting talking once again, like they were used to this, and the girls began playing with their dolls their mother had in a bag.
“Why don’t we sit down?” Natasha suggested.
“Good idea,” Audra said.
The photographer, who was now back to work building his set, turned around. “Do you mind coming over here and sitting. I’d like to see how my concept is going to look.”
The furniture had been newly arranged with one large gold chair in the middle, a small settee to the right, and a larger sofa to the left. All the pieces of furniture were centered on one of the Persian rugs and the space was framed by another set of French doors that must have
led out to the same terrace I’d been distracted by just minutes ago. I blinked a few times when I shifted my gaze to the fountain. It was surrounded by dozens of pots filled with colorful flowers, also all still in bloom. It really was beautiful.
The photographer had a deep French accent, and he beckoned Audra and Olivia over first. There he posed them both on the settee. Next, he ushered Natasha and her family to the larger sofa, where he put Calvin on the farthest edge, the two little girls in the middle, and Natasha close to the center chair.
When he turned toward me, he said, “Please sit here,” motioning to the singular chair.
My eyes widened and I shook my head no.
“Just so I can get a view through me lens, madam.”
Having no idea what to do, I hesitantly took a step forward.
“Please,” he said. “I just want to check the symmetry.”
I did as he asked, although I knew it wasn’t a good idea.
“Perfect,” he exclaimed, and then went to his camera, which was on a tripod, and snapped a few frames before saying, “Okay now, everyone smile.”
“Do we say, cheese?” One of the girl’s said.
“Yes, sweetie,” Natasha answered.
“One, two, three,” the photographer counted.
I didn’t know what everyone else did, but I forced the corners of my mouth to turn up, and said nothing.
“This is very good,” he said. “When Mrs. Ashton comes in, she’ll sit in the chair, and her son will stand before her.”
Not that I wanted to be in the picture, but obviously he had no instructions to include me.
“Just a few more. Audra, turn a little toward Olivia,” he directed.
“Hey, Pierre,” she answered.
Pierre obviously knew the family, and he continued to snap some photos, changing the family’s positions or the angle of the lens with each one, I waited for James.
There was more screaming. I heard a loud crash, and then the slam of a door. Soon, I could hear footfalls coming down the hall.
My heart thumped in my chest. I knew it hadn’t gone well for James, and by the sounds of things, his mother had left.
When someone entered the room, it wasn’t James, though. It was Mrs. Ashton, and she was anything but happy.
I jumped out of the chair, hoping she wasn’t alone. My gaze swiveled from side to side, but James wasn’t anywhere to be seen. It must have been him who slammed a door. Where could he have gone?
Just then Calvin stood. “I’m going to take the girls to use the restroom.”
“Good idea,” Natasha whispered.
Olivia grabbed Audra’s hand. “We’re going to go upstairs and powder our noses.”
And that left me, Natasha, Pierre, and Mrs. Ashton.
“Excuse me, please,” Pierre said, “I must get a different lens from the bag I left downstairs.” And he too, scurried away.
Natasha had stood, but did not move.
Her mother glared at her. “Natasha, could you leave Linda and I to talk?” She said my name, incorrectly of course, like there was venom on her tongue.
“It is Lindsay, Mother,” Natasha corrected.
Her mother waved a manicured hand. “No matter. Could you leave us?”
Natasha stood her ground until her mother stepped toward her and sneered, “I asked you to leave us to talk.”
Then Natasha did so, glancing at me, and looking very apologetic.
It was just Mrs. Ashton and me. I thought about making a joke. Something about it being just the two Mrs. Ashton’s, but I knew that wouldn’t go over very well, so instead I raised my chin and looked directly at her.
Fury riddled her face. When she stepped slowly toward me, I knew fear flickered in my eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, to tell her I cared about her son, but she held a hand up to halt my comments.
She walked toward a desk and pulled out what looked like her checkbook. She scribbled something across it, and then turned back to me. “My son tells me the two of you met Friday night and wed that night. I want you to leave him and get the marriage annulled.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Mrs. Ashton,” I spoke, “Your son and I want—”
She slowly strode toward me. “I know what the two of you want. And it’s completely unacceptable. I’m sure you’re nice and sweet and I can understand why my son finds you very attractive, but I want to assure you, prenup or not, you will never see a dime of his money.”
The blood rushed from my face. “Mrs. Ashton, I assure you I don’t want his money.”
I was treated to a heavy sigh from her. “Look Linda or Lindsay, or whatever your name is. I’ve had to deal with women like you all my life. That is why you will make this easy on yourself and James, because in the end, I will get what I want.”
“That’s just it, I don’t want anything but him.”
She thrust the check at me. “I’m sure you are aware that James is a Vandermore. As the eldest male of his generation, he will inherit a great deal of money and power. And when he does, he needs a wife who understands what it takes to support a man like him.”
Any hope I had of convincing her James and I were attracted to each other enough that we wanted to remain married went flying out the window. I looked at the check. It was made out to cash for the sum of one million dollars.
“That should be enough to make you see the error of your ways.”
I took the check and ripped it in half, then I handed it to her. “You can’t buy me off,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I am truly interested in your son, and not because of his money.”
Her nostrils flared. “There won’t be another offer,” she huffed, taking the check from me, and then she gave me her back.
I sucked in a huge breath, trying to ease the tightness compressing my chest. I had no idea where James had gone. Had he left so his mother could handle the situation he’d gotten himself into? Could handle me? That seemed to be what had happened.
I didn’t want to believe that.
But I just didn’t know.
All I knew was I couldn’t stay there one more minute. I had to get out of there. So I gracefully walked toward the stairs, descended them, grabbed my coat, and then let myself out, where I rushed to the sidewalk.
Once I hit Fifth Avenue, I hailed a cab. Yes, James’s place was certainly within walking distance, but I wasn’t going there. I was going home.
Inside the quiet of the yellow car, I gave him my address and then leaned my head against the window. There, I finally allowed my tears to fall.
Not only had my husband’s mother called me to a gold digger, she also thought I wasn’t good enough for her son. Obviously, she didn’t think I was capable of charity work and black tie event party planning. And who knew, perhaps I wasn’t capable of such things. I certainly had never done anything like that.
Yet, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t have been willing to try. To do what I had to in order to make James happy.
I think I would have done almost anything for him.
I guessed I’d never know.
It hadn’t even been forty-eight hours since James and I had said I do…
And now we were over.
Chapter 7
It Wasn’t My Fault
James
South of Houston Street wasn’t where I expected to end up.
In my bed, with the woman I married, was where I thought I would have been by that time of the day. After all, Lindsay and I were technically on our honeymoon. We should have been fucking like animals.
I leaned my head back against the seat, still holding the phone to my ear as her voicemail clicked on once again. “Lindsay, pick up the Goddamn phone, I need to talk to you.”
Frustrated, I tossed my phone on the seat and looked out the window in front of me. I’d already called her five times. For a Sunday afternoon, traffic was stop and go like it was rush hour.
Anger splintered in my mind. What the fuck had just happened? How the hell had I let my mother pl
ay me?
Emmy.
That’s how.
Fucking Emmy Lane.
My on-again, off-again, off-again girlfriend. And I used the term loosely. She was always more like a fuck buddy. My mother though, she saw her as the perfect wife for me. She was an heiress after all, and tying together our two families was like her wet dream.
I, however, was not interested. Not in the 9th grade when Emmy and I had met, not in college when we’d dated, and not over the years when she’d continually made her play for me.
Emmy Lane was a piece of work. She had so many issues, but like I said, she was a publishing heiress—and that was what mattered to my mother.
She was an heiress who refused to learn what it would take to run a long list of publications owned by her family. She, instead, wanted to be an actress, not a business tycoon. And because of her resistance to learn the family business, her parents were not on board with her plan to relocate to LA. She had yet to get the big break she was waiting for. Yet that hadn’t stopped her from dreaming. Swan Publishing might have been her family legacy, but her passion was acting and I had thought she still hoped someday she would be a star.
Her parents held her trust fund over her head to keep her in New York. Soon though, like me, when she turned thirty, she would have complete ownership. She’d always told me that’s when she’d be gone.
But after her little stunt today, I had to wonder if her plans had changed. Was she looking to get hitched?
I picked up my phone again and hit redial. This time when it went to voicemail, I didn’t bother to leave a message.
At twenty minutes past three, I walked into the building Lindsay had taken me to yesterday. I didn’t bother to buzz her apartment. Chances were good she wouldn’t let me up. Instead I buzzed three others. One buzzed me in.
Once I reached the second floor, I took the ten or so steps to her door, and knocked on it.
Predictably, there was no answer.
I knocked again. “Lindsay, it’s me, open the door, I want to explain.”
No answer.
I knocked over and over.
It didn’t matter how long I had to stay in the hallway. I’d spend the night if I had to. All I knew was there was no way I was leaving because there was no way I was going to lose her. I might have been obsessed with a woman I just met, but she was obsessed with me, too. And I planned to remind her of that.