Another Love, page 8
He’d ordered Mary to get rid of all the tangible evidence of those memories, but they were as vivid in his mind as if they were still here, waiting for Glenna to come back and restore them in fact as well as in his heart.
How she’d teased him about that bed! Once she decked it out like a harem couch, in crimson silk instead of the crocheted lace that usually cascaded from heavy square posts that nearly reached the twelve-foot ceilings. She’d seduced him handily, he recalled with more agony than the ecstasy the moment had brought.
Reality, within the same walls of the same house he had lived in all his life, was this bland, correctly furnished suite of rooms he could just as easily have found in any of a hundred luxury hotels.
And reality was the woman downstairs who soon would be the mother of his child—his wife even sooner. Banishing the bittersweet memories as best he could, Blake went into the odd-shaped office he had outfitted as his own sleeping room. After laying out his clothes, he set about methodically to shower, shave, and dress.
* * * * *
Adjusting the tie he’d randomly selected, Blake made his way across the courtyard. He felt strangely detached, as if it were someone else’s wedding he would be hosting within the hour.
“Blake.”
He strode into the morning room and joined Greg. “Where’s Sandy?”
“She’s helping Erin dress—or so she said. Want a drink?”
About a dozen. “Sure. Whatever you’re having will be fine.”
Blake watched Greg pour two fingers of Jack Daniel’s into a highball glass over a few cubes of ice. “Here’s to liquid courage,” Greg said as he handed over the glass.
“To courage.”
“Want to talk about it?” Greg sat back down and sipped his drink.
“What is there to discuss?”
“Whatever’s on your mind that you’d like to share. I’ve had more experience at this than you. I’ll be happy to offer advice, if the price is right, of course.” Greg grinned.
Blake couldn’t help smiling. “Advice? Remember, I’m the guy who’s trying to dig you out of the alimony poorhouse with two ex-wives. By the way, Si Abrams called me yesterday. Kay apparently is amenable now to giving up her monthly checks in return for a lump sum settlement. I told Si to forget it.”
“For God’s sake, Blake! Why?”
“For one thing, you can’t afford the amount she and Si have in mind. For another, you say she’s about to marry again. If she does, the monthly payments will stop without you shelling out any more than you already have. Trust me. Negotiating settlements is what I do for a living, even if most of the disputes are between oil companies and the agencies that regulate them.”
Greg shook his head, but he still was smiling. “I know. Damn it, though, I wish something would happen fast. I feel like hell, not being able to offer Sandy anything except a mountain of debt along with the dubious honor of marrying a two-time reject fifteen years older than she.”
“You’ve asked her to marry you?”
“Not yet. But I want to.”
Blake didn’t know Sandy all that well, but he had enjoyed the questionable pleasure of close acquaintance with both of Greg’s former wives. Though he wished Greg the best, he wasn’t at all certain his friend had finally found a woman who could and would share a harried lifestyle that revolved around his work. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. For Sandy I’d fight the devils in hell. I’ll even fight my exes, and talk my mother into moving in with her sister out in Phoenix, if that’s what it will take to make Sandy happy.”
“Sandy doesn’t meet with Mom’s approval?” Blake imagined Sadie Halpern’s dislike would be a formidable obstacle. Not that he didn’t get along fine with Greg’s mother. He’d even called her “Mom” at her insistence since Greg started taking him home for holidays when they were in school.
“Too young, too shiksa, but she’s a sweet, sweet girl, for a nice boy her own age,” Greg said with a grin, mimicking his mother’s distinctive speech pattern. “I don’t care. Mom will come around. Anyhow, she liked both Kay and Rhea, and look how things turned out with them.”
The doorbell rang, and Blake got up to answer it. It was Judge Adkins, who joined them for a drink while they waited for the other members of the bridal party.
“Are you having one ring or two?” the judge asked, apparently planning the ceremony mentally while they talked.
“One.” Blake reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, flat box.
Maybe he should take a look since he hadn’t done so when his secretary had set it on his desk. Blake opened the box and glanced at the wide, plain gold band. “Not bad,” he commented.
“I’ll hold it,” Greg offered.
“Blake!” Timmy rolled into the room, Mary scurrying along behind him. “Look at me. It’s fun dressing up. Doctor Halpern, how do you like my new suit?”
Greg smiled. “Looks just like one of Blake’s. You sure you didn’t borrow it from him?”
“Blake took me to the store and got it just for me. A bunch of other clothes, too. Who are you?” he asked the judge.
“Judge Adkins. You must be Blake’s new stepson, young man.”
“How’d you know? My name’s Timmy. I’m supposed to tell you Mommy and Aunt Sandy will be ready in just a few minutes. Mommy looks real pretty.”
Greg wandered over to the stereo and picked up a stack of compact discs. “Background music, anyone?”
“Pick out something appropriate and turn it on,” Blake suggested.
“Certainly not this?” Greg barely restrained his laughter as he held up a disc.
“Why not?” To Blake, one classical piece was pretty much the same as the next.
“I think we’d all find a soprano screeching in Italian a little distracting, don’t you? This is an opera, some heartrending tragedy if I recall correctly,” Greg explained, holding up the cover that featured a geisha girl and identified the disc as a sound track of Madame Butterfly.
“Cut out the comments and just find some music that will do. That’s all the classical music I’ve got.”
Greg set the offending selection down and dug through the discs, finally settling on one that he inserted in the CD player. A moment later the room filled with soft, unobtrusive harmonies.
“Where’s the wedding going to be?” Timmy maneuvered his wheelchair closer to Blake.
Blake smiled. “Over there by the windows, in the little alcove Miguel made with the plants and flowers.”
“Are you going to give Mommy a ring?”
“Yes.”
“And flowers?”
Flowers? Blake had forgotten that among other things, he was supposed to have sent Erin some kind of bouquet or corsage. Oh, well, it was too late now. “No, sport, just the ones we’ve got in here.”
Timmy looked around. “But Blake, these are the same flowers that are always in here. They’re just all scrunched up in that whatever you called it over there.”
“Alcove.”
“Yeah. Oh, boy, here come Mommy and Aunt Sandy.”
Blake’s gaze went to the doorway, where Erin’s tightly controlled smile hinted this was going to be as hard for her as for him. She’d done well with her shopping. He couldn’t help liking what he saw: from dark, simply arranged hair that curled around her shoulders to slender feet shod in low-heeled sandals. Her pretty, light blue dress veiled but didn’t conceal his unborn child. He made himself smile.
“Here, Mommy, you need a flower,” Timmy said, plucking a fat yellow rosebud out of an arrangement on a low table beside a chair and handing it up to Erin.
Embarrassed that he had overlooked the necessary detail of flowers for his bride, Blake picked another rose from the vase. “For the maid of honor,” he said lightly as he handed Sandy the flower.
He glanced at his Rolex and stifled the sense of longing that seeing Glenna’s gift always evoked. “It’s time,” he said, taking Erin’s hand and walking slowly across the room to the alcove where they would formalize their new arrangement.
* * * * *
For the second time, Sandy watched Erin repeat marriage vows. This time, she knew what it should mean to make those hopeful, solemn promises. She was twenty-three, not twelve, and the man she loved was standing across from her, looking handsome and relaxed as he, too, paid close attention to Erin and Blake’s mutual pledge.
“Do you, Blake, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love her, honor her and cherish her as long as you both shall live?”
Blake answered, but it was Greg that Sandy imagined making those solemn promises to her. Then, when it was Erin’s turn to make the same vows, Sandy was repeating the pledge of lasting fidelity to Greg. Her gaze settled on his solemn face, and her heartbeat accelerated.
“Do you have the ring?” Judge Adkins asked, and Greg dug into his pants pocket and pulled out the band Blake would be putting on her sister’s finger. Smiling, he handed it to Blake, then looked back at Sandy.
“Repeat after me, ‘With this ring, I thee wed.’”
Sandy watched Greg, and Greg watched Sandy as Blake repeated the judge’s words in a hushed, halting voice and slipped a wide gold band onto the ring finger of Erin’s left hand.
“With the power vested in me by the State of Texas, I pronounce you man and wife.”
Blake hesitated, just for a second, but Sandy caught the pause. Then, he lifted a hand to cup Erin’s chin and brushed his lips briefly over hers. It wasn’t a kiss of passion. It wasn’t even one that indicated warmth and caring. Sandy’s heart went out to Erin, because she was certain now her sister had entered into this marriage for reasons having little to do with emotion, less to do with love.
The mood was somber as the bride and groom accepted hugs and good wishes, casting a pall on the beautifully served, sumptuous meal that followed the short cocktail hour. The table was immaculate, covered with snowy linen edged in hand-crocheted lace. Dark blue candles flickered in silver candlesticks, casting soft light on an arrangement of multicolored roses and some lacy white flowers Sandy couldn’t name. The food tasted great, too, from a tangy fruit soup appetizer to the perfectly prepared Chateaubriand and crisp, buttered vegetables.
She couldn’t fault a thing, not really, but it bothered Sandy that, except for crystal flutes to hold the imported champagne and a small white-iced cake trimmed with fresh flowers, this could have been any company dinner at Blake Tanner’s big, fancy house. Blake was hospitable but subdued; Erin obviously was faking the gaiety that made her laugh nervously at everything anyone said. Even Greg seemed on edge. Only Timmy and the judge seemed to be enjoying themselves on what should have been a festive day.
“I’d like to propose a toast,” Greg said after Mrs. Malone and her helper had cleared the table, served the cake, and poured champagne. He stood and smiled, first at her and then at Erin.
“To Erin. May your future be as beautiful as you are today.” The conventional toast held none of Greg’s usual exuberance.
Blake got up next. “To your happiness,” he said simply, lifting his glass in Erin’s direction before taking a sip.
“May I?”
Blake’s expression warmed when he turned to Timmy. “Sure,” he said, smiling.
“Can I make a wish for all of us?”
“Go ahead, sport.”
Timmy looked first at Erin and then at Blake, who sat at opposite ends of the big dining table. “To our whole family,” he said gravely, lifting his glass of sparkling grape juice and taking a sip.
Judge Adkins cleared his throat and gave his own good wishes. “To a bright future for this wonderful family. Blake, your grandpa Jimmy would have been proud of all of you today,” he added before excusing himself.
Sandy felt Greg’s gaze before she realized that she, too, was expected to propose a toast to the newlyweds. “Be happy, you two,” she said, wondering as she did whether that wish would ever come true. For Erin, or for herself.
Why couldn’t relationships be simple? Baby or no baby, why had Erin just married a man who’d just lost his much-loved wife?
Sandy didn’t know, any more than she knew why she’d fallen in love with Greg. No woman in her right mind would have picked a guy with two greedy ex-wives, a spoiled-rotten daughter who’d wrapped Daddy around her twelve-year-old finger, and a mom who determinedly tried to run his life. But she loved Greg. She couldn’t help loving him.
“Sandy?”
She and Greg were the only ones left at the table. Timmy had gone with Mary to get ready for bed, and Erin and Blake were saying good night to Judge Adkins. Sandy stood and followed with Greg to the door.
“I think we’ll call it a night, too. Thanks for letting us be a part of your wedding. Best wishes to you both,” Greg told the newlyweds.
* * * * *
On the way home, Greg stopped the car at a small park and turned to Sandy. “They’ll be all right. Let’s get out and take a walk.”
He held her hand, and they strolled down a well-lit path. The air smelled sweet from the honeysuckle vines that snaked around the trees.
“What’s wrong? You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
“It almost seemed like they were signing a contract instead of getting married,” she said sadly.
“Marriage is a contract, sweetheart.”
“It is? I thought people got married because they love each other.”
“That, too. But think about it. In the old days, yentas used to match up couples who’d never met. They’d negotiate detailed marriage agreements, usually with the bride’s and groom’s parents. First time the couple laid eyes on each other was at the wedding. Most of those marriages must have worked out fine, because as Mom points out every chance she gets, hardly anybody used to get divorced.”
“You didn’t—”
“No, I made my own mistakes. ‘Fraid I can’t blame a yenta.” Greg stopped and pulled Sandy into his arms. “Honey, don’t worry. Erin and Blake will do okay.”
She stroked his lean, muscular cheek. “What made you fall out of love, then?”
“I’m not sure I ever loved Kay or Rhea. I know I didn’t love them the way I love you. They both required a lot of maintenance I didn’t have time to provide. Bottom line was, I guess, they didn’t like coming second to my patients and I didn’t care enough to give either of them the kid-glove sort of care they expected.”
Greg just said he loved her. Her worries about her sister forgotten, Sandy suddenly felt like dancing with happiness. “You know I love you, too,” she said, and then she threw her arms around his neck and dropped kisses all over his face and neck.
“Easy, sweetheart. All I could think about tonight when Blake and Erin were saying their vows was that I wished we were the ones getting married. I want to marry you, wake up with you every morning and go to sleep with you in my arms. I want us to have a couple of kids while I’m still in good enough shape to teach them to swim and play tennis and so on. Most of all, sweetheart, I want to know you’re going to keep loving me like I’ll be loving you, as long as we live.”
“I’d marry you tomorrow.”
Greg put an arm around her, and they walked back toward his car. “Not tomorrow, love. But soon, I hope. I won’t even ask you until I’ve worked out something so that I can support you. “
He seemed unusually quiet when they drove on to his apartment. She didn’t mind. The lack of conversation gave her time to savor knowing he loved her and wanted her to be his wife.
“We could start planning our wedding now,” she said suddenly, visions of white lace and silk illusion drifting through her head. “I’d like something more traditional than Erin and Blake had.”
“As long as it’s legal, whatever you want will suit me just fine.” He paused for a minute. “We can’t have a religious ceremony, but we can do as big and fancy a civil wedding as you want.”
“Oh.” Sandy hadn’t thought of that. “Won’t your mother and sisters be upset?”
Greg shrugged. “Probably. But I wouldn’t ask you to marry outside your faith, any more than I’d expect you to want me to say the most important vows of my life outside of mine.”
“Greg, do you really believe circumstances are going to change with…with your alimony situation? I don’t want to wait forever.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything as they walked up to his apartment.
“I wouldn’t mind living here and keeping on working like I do now. You wouldn’t have to pay me if we were married,” Sandy said when she’d kicked off her high heels and padded to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Sweetheart, I couldn’t support you on what I pay you for managing my office.” Then he laughed, as if he suddenly realized the absurdity of what he’d just said. “That is, I couldn’t afford to support you the way I want to. Come here and let me love you.”
“Here?”
“Why not? You want to check out my examining rooms. Why shouldn’t I get to check you out on my kitchen counter? I’ve been planning this all week long.” Lifting her easily, he set her on the edge of the counter between the stove and sink and fished out a condom and the brand-new Pyrex butt plug he’d stashed in a drawer after sterilizing it the other day. “Look what I found.”
Sandy saw the toys and grinned. “More playtoys?”
“Uh-huh. You have no idea how hot I got, imagining what I’m gonna do with them. With you.”
He bent and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Come on, spread ‘em for me. That’s my girl. What do we have here? Stockings and a garter belt? And could it be a bare pussy under that thong bikini? A bare, wet, hungry little pussy wanting my cock?”
Giggling, Sandy slid to the edge of the counter, spread her legs, and propped her feet against Greg’s narrow waist. “Better get your instruments out if you’re gonna do an exam, Doc. Want some help?” Teasing him, she reached for the nearest drawer and started to open it.
“Only other instrument I need is in my pants. Go on, unzip me.”
She gave his cock a playful squeeze before loosening his belt and tackling the snap and zipper. “Better than one of your cold, hard speculums any day,” she purred, loving the warm, pulsing flesh she drew from his pants and rubbed against her clit. “Want to put it in me, Doc?”
