He walked up to the tent and examined the damaged area. It was all Barbara could do to keep from yelling at him in front of everyone.
Bradford turned to Darlene. “Tell them we’ll double their normal fee to get out here and fix it before the reception,” he ordered. “Whatever it takes, just get them out here now.”
Darlene’s eyes lit up. “Whatever you say, sir.” Within a minute she was snapping the phone antenna back into place and smiling in victory. “They’re sending someone right away. The reception doesn’t start until three, so that gives us two and a half hours. In the meantime, we can finish setting things up. I don’t think it will topple over.”
“Nah,” Bradford said. “It should hold up fine until they get out here to fix it.”
Barbara sighed with relief. She had to hand it to her husband. He was always so good in a crisis, even one of his own making. “So you think everything will be ready on time, Darlene?”
Darlene nodded. “Yes. I think we’ll make it.”
Barbara smiled. “Thank goodness. Do your best.”
Darlene nodded and walked off with the phone at her ear as she directed the other workers to get back to their jobs. Just when Barbara thought she could relax a bit, she noticed a young man walking around on the patio near the house, snapping away with a 35-millimeter camera. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed in horror. “Bradford, it’s Peter, the photographer.”
Bradford followed her gaze. He let out a deep breath. “I’ll handle this.”
Barbara didn’t say a word. She was too stunned to speak. When did he get here? How much had he caught on film? God forbid she should wake up tomorrow morning to photos in the style section of the Washington Post or on the Internet of Bradford’s mistress wrecking Rebecca’s wedding reception tent.
Bradford walked briskly across the lawn to the patio and spoke to Peter for a minute. Barbara let out a sigh of relief as the photographer fiddled with his camera, then handed something over to Bradford. The photographer disappeared into the house, and Bradford turned toward Barbara. “It’s OK. I got the film from him.”
“This is your fault, Bradford,” Barbara snapped. “What the devil was that all about?”
Bradford shook his head with regret, but he didn’t say anything. There was no apology and Barbara didn’t expect one. The women came and went so often that Bradford seemed to realize that apologizing when he got caught was getting stale.
“Never mind,” Barbara said. “We don’t have time to get into it now, anyway.”
“Where is Rebecca?” Bradford asked. “Did she see any of this?”
“Of course she saw it,” Barbara snapped. “How could she miss it? Not to mention Marilyn and Pearl and God knows who else. I’m sure we’re the laughingstock of Silver Lake now.”
“Barbara, please,” Bradford said tiredly. “Don’t be so melodramatic. I’m going to go get into my tux.”
“Fine,” Barbara said crisply. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
“Nothing to discuss? Your mistress just drove up onto our property and … and practically ruined our daughter’s wedding. Or didn’t you notice?”
“You mean ex-mistress. The reason she was so upset was because I called it off.”
Barbara scoffed. “You told me last month that you called it off.”
“Well, it’s true. But she’s having problems accepting it.”
This was why she tried to avoid these arguments with Bradford. It was impossible to win any of them. He had an excuse for everything. “So that’s why you ran over there first thing this morning, I suppose?” she said sarcastically.
“She called last night crying, so I—”
“Bradford, please,” Barbara said. “Spare me.”
“Look, I didn’t want to get into this, but you—”
“Daddy?”
They both turned to see Rebecca and Robin standing in the doorway leading to the patio with frustrated expressions on their faces.
“Yes?” Bradford smiled and moved toward them.
“Who was that woman?” Rebecca asked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Bradford shoved his hands in his jacket pocket. “Nobody for you to worry about.”
Rebecca looked from Bradford to Barbara with doubt. “She looked like plenty to worry about to me. Look at what she did to the tent.”
“Your father is right. And the tent will be repaired in plenty of time,” Barbara said. No doubt Rebecca and Robin had long ago come to realize that their parents’ marriage was a rocky one, but she never discussed Bradford’s philandering with them, or anyone else for that matter. The dirt between her and Bradford would stay between her and Bradford.
“What on earth was she so upset about?” Robin asked.
Bradford shrugged. “She works for a friend of mine, and, uh, she was mad because we didn’t invite her to the wedding.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Robin said.
“What if she comes back?” Rebecca asked, a look of horror on her face.
Bradford smiled and put his arm around Rebecca’s shoulder. “She won’t. I promise you that. And did I tell you you look stunning? Ralph is one lucky guy.”
Rebecca tried to smile. “Thanks, Daddy. But you’re not even dressed yet.”
“I will be, in fifteen minutes sharp. I’ve already shaved and showered.”
No doubt after you screwed your whore, Barbara thought. Because he certainly didn’t shower here this morning. And all that talk about Sabrina losing control because he broke up with her was bull. Bradford could keep a hundred employees in check. He could manage millions of dollars. But he couldn’t keep his mistress in her place? Mister Big Shot? Please.
“By the way,” Bradford said. “The lieutenant governor called at the last minute and said she was accepting her invitation to the reception.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened. “You mean Kathleen Kennedy Townsend? Oh my gosh.”
“And you waited all this time to tell us, Bradford?” Barbara said. “Honestly.”
Bradford shrugged. “She called just this morning.”
“She probably sees the reception as an opportunity to line up votes in her campaign for governor,” Robin said.
Barbara sighed with impatience.
“What’s the big deal?” Bradford asked. “She and the governor have both been here before.”
“That was for political receptions, Bradford, not our daughter’s wedding. She’ll need special seating.”
“I’m sure you’ll carry it off without a hitch,” Bradford said. He kissed Rebecca’s forehead and walked into the house.
“I can’t believe all this is happening,” Rebecca said.
“How could Daddy let that woman in here today of all days,” Robin said with annoyance.
“You can’t blame him,” Barbara said. “He tried to stop her.”
Robin shook her head with frustration. “You always defend him.”
Barbara grimaced and touched her forehead. So much to do, so little time. She was going to have to get herself together. And fast. She put her arms around both her daughters and forced a smile. “Come on, girls. Let’s forget about this. We have a big day ahead of us. The lieutenant governor is coming, not to mention half of Silver Lake and our family and friends. We have to look and behave our best.”
Barbara held her head high and led her daughters back into the house.
Chapter 7
Jolene smiled at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Everything on her was designer, from the black Victoria’s Secret thong and bra to the dark blue St. John suit. She loved the way the suits flattered her curves. They cost more than a thousand bucks a pop but were worth every last penny.
Not that she needed much help with her curves. Not her. With the exception of a teensy-weensy midriff bulge that she could hide by sucking her breath in, her figure was damn near perfect. Her derriere was a bit ample, and the skirt to the suit fit like a second skin. But black me
n liked for their women to have a little extra meat on their bones.
She chuckled. It was a downright scandal the way she could sometimes get so giddy about herself. But hell. Nothing wrong with liking yourself. Too many women didn’t have enough confidence. She certainly wasn’t one of them.
She picked out one of the four pairs of Manolo Blahnik shoes sitting on the shelves that lined the walls of her closet and slipped them onto her feet. This skimpy-ass walk-in closet was one of so many reasons why they needed a bigger house. The closet, no, make that dressing room, in the master bedroom of the house they were building was as big as the whole bedroom in their current house. She could hardly wait the six months until they could move in and invite her parents over. And her sister Jackie. Hell, it was going to be big enough to have the whole neighborhood over.
If it had been up to her, they would have put a hot tub on the deck outside the bedroom and enclosed it with glass walls on three sides. That way they could sit back and look over their two-acre estate in style. But Patrick was such a penny-pincher. She would have to settle for lawn chairs instead. At least for now.
Every time she got a good idea he’d knock it down. Too expensive. Too showy. Too pretentious. Yak, yak, yak. Didn’t he understand? That was the whole frigging idea. They both busted their butts working all the time. They deserved to show off a bit.
He almost had a fit when she insisted they hire an architect to design the house. He wanted to use a design out of one of those plan books you get at the supermarket and be his own general contractor. Puh-leeze. She had to put her foot down on that one. She was finally getting to build her dream house in Silver Lake, North. This wasn’t the time to start acting like the Beverly Hillbillies.
She stood in front of the full-length mirror and fluffed up her reddish brown hair weave, then she placed her long acrylic nails on her hips and posed Marilyn Monroe–style. She’d changed herself from a babe in denim to a queen in silk in record time. No wonder Terrence couldn’t resist her. When she’d called him from the construction site, they were cooing on the phone in no time and making plans for a tryst the following afternoon, promptly after church.
Now for the crowning touch of her ensemble. She opened her dresser drawer and removed a small package wrapped carefully in silk. She opened it and held up a Judith Leiber clutch. She loved the way it glittered in the light. She knew she had to have one of these bags the minute she first laid eyes on them at Neiman Marcus.
Barbara Bentley didn’t have much of a fashion sense, but she had the kind of bucks that made it damn near impossible to look cheap. The woman probably considered Saks bargain-basement shopping. She could afford to have her rags tailor-made. A wedding and reception at Barbara’s estate was the perfect excuse to pull out all the fashion stops.
Jolene held the glittery bag up and smiled. And to think, here she was building one of the biggest houses in the community and just a few doors down from the Bentleys’. Eat your heart out, Silver Lake.
“Mom!”
Jolene jumped at the sound of her daughter’s voice in the bedroom doorway. “Oh, precious. You scared the living daylights out of me.”
“Sorry, Mother,” Juliette said; “but is that a new Judith Leiber bag in your hand?”
Jolene pressed her finger to her lips. “Not so loud, sweetie. Where’s your father?”
“He’s downstairs getting the car out of the garage. He sent me up to get you.”
Jolene held the bag up proudly. “How do you like it?”
“Oh, I love it!” Juliette exclaimed. “Can I take one of your other ones to the wedding? Please?”
“You’re too young for this kind of thing just yet, precious.”
“I’m fourteen,” Juliette said tartly. “And it’s only a purse.”
“It’s a grown-up’s purse. So the answer is no.”
Juliette stuck out her bottom lip, and Jolene smiled with amusement. Her daughter was such a pretty young thing, even when she pouted. And so poised and well groomed. Every strand of her hair weave was always in place, just like her mama’s. And even though Juliette had just started wearing blush and lipstick, it was always applied perfectly. “Now, now, precious. Is that any way to act? You just got those diamond earrings that you’re wearing for your birthday. Isn’t that enough?”
Juliette put her arm around her mother’s waist. “I love them, Mama, but Caitlin next door has half karats.”
Jolene lifted a brow. “She does, does she?” Jolene didn’t want her daughter to feel second best to anyone ever. She knew from her own experiences with her older sister Jackie that it was not a good feeling. “Well, we’ll have to see about getting yours upgraded then, won’t we?”
They both giggled.
“Do you think the Joneses will be at the wedding, Mom?”
“When I talked to Candice a few weeks ago, she said they were going. I’m sure they will since Candice works for Bradford Bentley, just like your father.”
“Is Mrs. Jones a programmer like Dad?”
“No, she’s a web designer.”
“Oh. Does she make more money than you? Or Daddy?”
“I doubt it. Why do you ask?”
“ ’Cause Caitlin has all this fancy jewelry and she said she was getting a car next year when she turns sixteen. Everybody is going to want to hang around her if she does.”
“Caitlin is a year older than you are,” Jolene explained. “And remember, we’re building a brand-new house in North Silver Lake. All the houses over there are custom-built, unlike the ones here on the south side. And as far as I know, the Joneses plan to stay over here. And you can have a car, too, when you turn sixteen.”
Juliette scoffed. “Dad will never go for that.”
“We’ll see. I have some say in it too, you know.”
“Still, that’s not for two more years.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that, Juliette. The law is the law. Aren’t you the most popular girl in school now?”
Juliette shrugged and admired herself in her mother’s full-length mirror. “Depends on who you ask, I guess.”
“Well, people like you for your personality, anyway, not what you wear or drive.” That sounded like the right kind of thing to tell your fourteen-year-old daughter, even though Jolene didn’t really believe it—not entirely. Personality was a start, but having a car and other nice things could definitely improve a teenager’s popularity. And she wanted Juliette to be popular, especially with the right boys. She didn’t want any Jonathan Parkers breaking her daughter’s heart.
“So what do you think, Jim? Am I jumping the gun here, worrying about this?” Candice looked at Jim as he backed their Ford Taurus out of the driveway.
Jim nodded. “Probably. Ashley’s only going out on a date with this guy, not marrying him.”
Candice sighed and leaned her head back. “You’re right.” She smiled and waved at the Browns. Patrick was sitting in the driveway behind the wheel of their Mercedes as Jolene and Juliette climbed in. The Browns smiled and waved back.
“Even if she was marrying him, so what?” Caitlin asked from the backseat. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world. You always told us not to judge other people by what they look like or how much money they have. Right?”
“Yes, but—”
“But what? Isn’t that what you’re doing now, Mom?”
“It’s not that simple, Caitlin,” Candice explained. “I was thinking of friends and coworkers when we said those things. I never thought it would come to this. Dating and marriage are … well, that’s different.”
“My friend Sue Ellen is seeing a black guy. What’s so different about it?”
“Marriage and even dating are a lot more complicated than most other relationships,” Jim said.
Thank you, Candice thought. This was so difficult to explain. She didn’t even really understand her own feelings about it. “Marriage is hard even between two people of the same race. You saw what I went through with your father.”
“Caitlin!” Candice glanced at Jim out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to be fighting real hard to keep a smile off his face.
“Sorry, Mom. Just telling it like I see it.”
“And I’m sorry you had to go through that with your father and me. But can you imagine how much harder it would have been if your father and I were of different races? It would have meant one more thing to deal with on top of everything else that comes up. ’Cause even if the two of you accept it, others won’t, and they can make your life pretty miserable.”
“But if two people love each other, who cares what everyone else thinks?” Caitlin protested.
“It’s a lot easier to just find someone of the same race.” Candice shrugged. “Well, Ashley is only nineteen. Like Jim said, it may be premature to worry about it now.”
“Knowing Ashley, she’ll be swooning over someone else next month,” Jim said.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Caitlin said smugly. “Do you see the look on her face when she talks about this guy? I think she’s in love.”
“Come on,” Jim said incredulously. “She just met him.”
Candice didn’t say anything. She just prayed that her smart-mouthed daughter was mistaken. She had finally found a wonderful man in Jim, and aside from the occasional minidrama with Caitlin, her life was good. So good in fact that at times she thought something bad would surely happen just to even things out.
Chapter 8
OK, OK. She was handling her position at the head of the receiving line just fine. She was smiling graciously—the perfect picture of the mother of the bride greeting her guests with her husband at her side.
Something black moved in the corner of her eye, and her head jerked toward the driveway. Mercifully, it was only one of the valet parkers backing a Cadillac up. Not Sabrina’s BMW.
Barbara sighed with relief and stole a sideways glance at Bradford as they greeted one guest after another. Look at him. Mister Big Shot. Nothing fazed him. The lieutenant governor was here and his mistress could show up any second, but he was cool and confident as always, working that Southern accent like a charm. Over the years he had trained himself to be able to turn the accent on and off at will. It would instantly become deeper whenever he thought it would work to his advantage, whether to charm the ladies or disarm a business adversary.
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