“Two perfect little girls, born just after midnight,” he said. “It was well worth missing the wedding.”
She reached for the photograph. “That didn’t take long,” she said, with a sigh of relief that it hadn’t all happened in the church foyer. The babies were red-faced and wrinkled, and each had a fuzz of dark hair. One of them appeared to be winking. “Obviously they’re not camera shy,” she murmured. “They’re adorable.”
“Have a piece of bubble gum to celebrate. Unless you’d prefer a cigar? In fact, you should have two pieces. Oh, they’re both girls, did I tell you?”
She couldn’t smother her grin any longer. “You told me.”
Marcus came up beside her with a frosty glass. “I thought you’d like a Tom Collins, darling,” he said. “Long and cold. And a place to sit, of course.” He indicated a chair and accepted a cigar from the proud new father. “You don’t mind if I smoke, Kaitlyn?” He was already reaching into his pocket for a cigar clipper. He warmed the tip of the cigar over the candle flame in the center of the table, lighted it and leaned back with satisfaction as it began to glow red. “Now this isn’t so bad, is it?”
Kaitlyn sipped her drink and then asked the waitress to bring her an iced tea instead. “What?”
“Being charming to my business associates, I mean. They like you a great deal. And they’re very pleased at the idea of our marriage — the big management feels that married men are more stable.” The two executives reappeared from the locker room, and Marcus summoned the waitress again to take their orders.
One of the men leaned back in his chair and said, “This is an amazing little town, Marcus. We never expected a boom like this when we bought the plant, you know”
Kaitlyn smiled. “And to think it can all be traced to just one company,” she mused, “which only came to Springhill because the owner was trying to get his ex-wife back.”
The senior of the executives looked at her rather pityingly. “Surely you’re mistaken. That’s not the way decisions are made in the world of business, Miss Ross.”
“On the contrary,” Kaitlyn muttered rebelliously. “You’ve probably met him this week.” She knew how the economy of this city had happened to turn around, because she had lived through it — so she stopped listening to the executive.
That was probably why she heard the bits of conversation from the next table.
“You’ve seen the property — a weedy field with an old farmhouse falling down smack in the center of it,” she heard one man say, and wondered idly why they were discussing the old Delaney place. It was an unsightly chunk of land just outside town.
No, she remembered, it had become part of Springhill last year, when the city council had annexed the entire area.
“I don’t know why he wants it,” another man at the table said. He sounded defensive. “He told me he was planning to drill for oil along the creek, but you know Penn.”
“Maybe he just wants a matched set of run-down houses,” the first man said with a laugh.
Kaitlyn frowned. Why on earth would Penn be trying to buy the Delaney place? It was not in the hope of finding oil; that was precisely the kind of nonsense Penn would rattle off with a straight face if he didn’t want to answer the question. But why was he buying anything in Springhill? It was crazy enough that he’d kept the lake cabin all these years.
“Kaitlyn,” Marcus said impatiently. “What are you frowning about? You’d be delighted to have dinner with us, wouldn’t you?”
She really ought to know better than to let her mind wander. “Of course,” she said quickly. “Though I’d like to freshen up first.”
Marcus laughed fondly. “You’ll have plenty of time for that. The invitation is for Friday, Kaitlyn, when these gentlemen finish up with the plant inspections and all the work is done.”
Her face flamed. “Of course. I — my thoughts must have just drifted off.”
And if they didn’t already think she was a classic dizzy female, Kaitlyn supposed she had just confirmed it. But at least it was a relief to know that Marcus wasn’t expecting her to spend every evening with these two stuffed shirts. Just Friday.
And Friday evening, she remembered – too late – was the final rehearsal for Laura McCarthy’s wedding on Saturday.
She didn’t think it would help her image to beg off less than two minutes after accepting the invitation, so she kept silent and confessed the problem to Marcus when he took her home after another round of drinks.
“Surely the rehearsal won’t last all night,” he said. “You’ll just have to hurry it along and excuse yourself from the partying afterward. I’ll push our dinner appointment back a little, and we’ll make it work.”
But it was obvious that he wasn’t happy.
*****
The florist looked frazzled when Kaitlyn arrived, and he was half-hoarse from screaming over the telephone at the supplier who had just informed him – less than four days before Laura McCarthy’s wedding – that there would be no calla lilies for her bouquet. But no amount of yelling had changed the facts, so now he was sitting on the edge of a potting bench and shaking his head at Kaitlyn.
“I promised Laura calla lilies,” he croaked. “And now there aren’t any calla lilies to be had. Not by Saturday.”
Kaitlyn pushed herself away from the cooler full of roses. “Then Laura will simply have to understand.”
“I can’t bring myself to tell her,” the florist said frankly.
Kaitlyn sighed. “I’ll break it to her. It’s my job.” She left the flower shop a few minutes later with the guarantee of amaryllis for Saturday and with a long-stemmed red rose, a gift from the grateful florist for not making him face the bride personally.
Thank heaven this hadn’t happened last week, she thought. Laura was levelheaded; she’d be disappointed, but she would understand. It if had been Sabrina, all hell would have broken loose.
She ran into Penn on the main square; he was coming down the courthouse steps as she was crossing the broad grassy lawn between the big old stone building and the street. There was really no way to pretend she didn’t see him, so she walked straight up to him and said, “Hello, Penn. How is the cabin coming along?”
His grin flashed. “Oh, it’s fine. I’ll buy you a milkshake and tell you about it. Come on.”
Great, Kaitlyn thought. She couldn’t just say hello and keep walking; she had to put on social airs and graces and make conversation. And look where it had gotten her. Well, at least she could put off calling Laura.
He ushered her into the tiny restaurant on the corner, chose a high-backed booth, and ordered two double chocolate milkshakes.
Kaitlyn shook her head at the waitress. “Make mine club soda instead.”
Penn nodded wisely. “I should have known. I suppose you’ll have to watch every calorie from now till after the wedding. I’ve got it. I’ll get you a milkshake machine as my gift to the newlyweds. Afterward, it won’t matter what your waistline looks like, so you can enjoy it.”
“Thanks, Penn. But—”
“Unless you’d prefer something else. I owned a rather nice African fertility charm once. I wonder where on earth I’ve left it?”
He might well have been speaking literally, Kaitlyn thought.
“Or I could always give you a full set of photos of the whole day. That’s a gift worth thousands.”
“Thousands? Don’t push your luck. I still haven’t seen the results from last weekend.”
He grinned. “Why do you think I’m trying to get you to agree to the value before you have a chance to see the pictures? I know, how about a puppy?”
“I’ve got Schnoodle — at least Mother keeps reminding me that he’s technically mine. Do you want a dog?”
“No.”
“Of course you wouldn’t, the way you travel around. You probably won’t even be here by the time we get married. We decided on Valentine’s Day.”
“Poor Marcus,” he said earnestly. “Keeping him waiting eight months an
d not even moving in with him in the meantime.”
Kaitlyn ignored that with an effort. “Maybe you won’t even be invited. Then you won’t have to worry about a gift at all.”
He looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I should try to be better friends with Marcus. Maybe he’ll need an extra usher.”
“And maybe not.”
“True.” Then his face lighted. “I guess I’d rather not be an usher, anyway — or take the pictures. I’ll be your assistant coordinator.”
“No, thanks.”
“Kitten,” he said earnestly, “you simply cannot be running around in your fancy gown to check on the proceedings. People would think it was strange. With me masterminding things, you could even have a glass or two of champagne at your own reception.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
He didn’t seem to hear. “I think Marcus will like the idea. You’ll be a lot more fun later if—”
She gritted her teeth, and then said firmly, “I thought you were going to tell me about the cabin.”
“Oh, yes. I was, wasn’t I? You should drive out and see it, actually. It’s coming along very well. The furnace goes in next week.”
She was reaching for her drink; her hand jerked, and the contents of her glass cascaded over the edge of the table and into her lap. She grabbed her napkin and began to scrub at her skirt.
“Now I see why you ordered club soda,” Penn said.
“A furnace?” she managed to say. “Why do you need a furnace in a summer cabin?”
“You know – to supply heat. So I can live there in the winter, too, if I want.”
“You’re going to live there?”
“Kitten, I am already living there.”
“No, I mean – year-round? Always?”
“Oh, probably not always,” he said cheerfully.
“I see. You just like to keep your options open.” She flung her soggy napkin aside. “That’s the main thing that’s wrong with you, Penn — do you know that? You don’t want to choose anything because you might have to give up something else. And you don’t finish anything, either, because before it’s done, a more appealing project always comes along. You quit college after just a year; you haven’t held a steady job since—”
He didn’t answer, but at least he stopped drinking his milkshake and looked at her, eyebrows drawn together, as if he was truly listening.
After a moment she went on, more gently. “It was a rather attractive quality when you were younger, you know. You were always on the go, always doing something unexpected. It was exciting. But now it’s just unfortunate. You had so much potential, Penn.” She broke off, fighting tears, and picked up her handbag. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Is that why you’ve settled on Marcus?” He sounded merely interested, not annoyed or resentful.
She frowned till she saw the connection. “Because he’s reliable? Of course not, though I will say it’s nice to know I can always count on him.”
“No,” Penn said quietly. “That’s not what I meant at all. I wouldn’t marry you. Isn’t that what you’re really angry about, even after all this time? Isn’t that why you’re still cataloging my faults? Maybe if you’d take a good look at me, Kaitlyn — an honest look for a change—”
Kaitlyn bit her tongue, hard. “Damn you, Penn Caldwell,” she said, her voice low and harsh. Then she turned on her heel and hurried out.
But his words seemed to echo in her head.
“I wouldn’t marry you. Isn’t that what you’re really angry about, even after all this time?”
CHAPTER 5
The sheer ego of the man, she stormed to herself as she dodged across the square toward her car. Ten blasted years had gone by, but Penn actually thought she was still concentrating on him after all that time — that she had even become engaged just to try to make him jealous!
What a colossal fool he was. As if she hadn’t had her share of attention from men in those ten years — and several of them had been quite willing to marry her, too. It wasn’t from lack of opportunity that she’d remained single — or because she was still mourning over her first, long-lost love, either. Penn was nothing more than a conceited blockhead to think that she had only accepted Marcus’s proposal in order to prove to him that someone found her desirable.
The whole thing made her too furious even to scream. The heels of her low pumps clicked out a staccato rhythm on the sun-washed sidewalk, almost matched by the angry pounding of blood in her ears, and the combination nearly drowned out the sound of her name being called from across the street. Eventually, however, she saw an arm waving frantically from the front door of the photographic studio, and she made her way cautiously through the traffic. The photographs of Sabrina’s wedding must be finished. And if they were so bad that even the receptionist wanted to warn her...
“I thought you were never going to hear me,” the young woman said. “I know you were anxious about those pictures so I dropped them off at Jill’s house on my lunch hour.”
“How were they?” Kaitlyn asked warily.
The receptionist shrugged. “Sorry, but I didn’t even look at them. My job is to fetch and carry, not critique.”
Kaitlyn retraced her steps to her car and wondered whether it would be rude to simply drop in at Jill’s house. She’d bought baby gifts for the twins just this morning, but she’d intended to wait a little while before going to visit. Jill had only been home from the hospital for a couple of days, and she had her hands full.
Jill’s weathered-cedar house was nestled at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, and a black Jaguar was parked in the driveway, so Kaitlyn stopped. If Stephanie was already there, at least she wouldn’t be rousing Jill from a rest.
It was Stephanie who came to answer the door, in fact, with an infant cradled in her arms. “Sorry, Kaitlyn. But there aren’t enough babies here to go round, and if you think I’m giving up this one, you’re wrong. I’d like to take her home with me.”
“I’ll remember that,” Jill called from the next room. “You may be picking her up about three o’clock some morning.”
Kaitlyn followed the sound of Jill’s voice into a big, casual living room with a cathedral ceiling. Jill was sitting in an oversize reclining chair holding a bottle for the other twin, the mirror image of her sister, fuzzy dark hair and all.
“How are you going to tell them apart?” Kaitlyn asked. She set a pair of pink-wrapped boxes down beside Jill’s chair and bent over the baby in fascination.
Jill sighed. “So far it’s no problem; we never manage to put them both down at the same time. But I’ve already considered spray-painting their feet when they start to crawl — one red, one blue. The pictures are on the coffee table.”
The babies were momentarily forgotten and Kaitlyn tossed her handbag down, seized the pile of fat envelopes and dropped onto the edge of the couch. Each of the hundred photographs was encased in a separate opaque envelope, and of the first half dozen that Kaitlyn pulled out, all were shots Jill had taken. Her hands were trembling by the time she found any of Penn’s work.
“The woman has no taste,” Stephanie was telling the twin she was holding. “She’d rather look at pictures than at you. Isn’t she silly?”
The baby yawned at her.
“They’re not bad, altogether,” Jill said. She shifted the twin she held over her shoulder and began to pat her back. “There’s not a prizewinner in the bunch, but at least they’re all in focus. I think if I’m careful — and a bit creative — in putting the proof album together, neither of us will be shot at dawn by the Harts.”
“I’ll start breathing again in a minute,” Kaitlyn said. “After five days of being afraid to, I think I’ve forgotten how.”
“Tell Penn if he wants a few pointers, I’ll be happy to teach him. I might even offer him a part-time job if he wants it — we have to turn down weddings now because we can’t be everywhere at once.”
Kaitlyn set the stack of envelopes back on the coffee table with a sigh. “Better
keep him as an emergency backup. He’s a bit too unstable to rely on.” There was more than a tinge of bitterness in her voice.
Stephanie stopped rocking the baby and said quietly, “I should think most people would be a bit unstable, after the kind of shock Penn had. It’s no wonder he went into a tailspin for a while.”
Kaitlyn was almost ashamed of herself. Then she remembered that crazy accusation of his in the restaurant. Thinking she was still angry at him because he wouldn’t marry her ten years ago, indeed! The man didn’t have his thinking straightened out yet.
But she wasn’t going to try to explain that bit of insight to Stephanie, so she said mildly, “If she’s finished eating, Jill, may I hold her?” She picked the baby up cautiously. The infant’s tiny, delicate dark eyebrows arched a little, and wide blue eyes studied Kaitlyn intently for a moment. Then they closed, and the rubbery little body sagged sleepily in her arms.
Jill stretched out in her chair with a sigh and reached for the boxes Kaitlyn had brought. “I think this is the first time in three days I haven’t had at least one baby in my lap,” she mused. “Or perhaps it’s actually only been a matter of hours, and it simply feels like three days. What beautiful little dresses!” She stroked a delicate lace collar and added, “Where are you going to be moving, Kaitlyn?”
“I don’t know.”
Stephanie’s brow furrowed. “The sale of the house closes in less than a week.”
“Don’t remind me,” Kaitlyn said crisply. “I haven’t forgotten that you’ll be throwing me out onto the street next Monday morning with all my possessions in a shopping bag. At least it’s summer; I won’t freeze.”
Stephanie winced. “I’ve been so busy I’d forgotten all about you. What about your mother?”
“She’s found a place she likes, but it won’t be available for a while — it needs repainting and new carpet. So she’s going to stay with her sister in Omaha for a few weeks.”
The Best-Made Plans Page 7