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“We can manage without butterflies,” he said.
“Good. Then I’ll contact a costumer and an armorer first thing tomorrow.”
He wasn’t sure he’d heard that correctly. “An armorer?” he asked.
“For the knights who’ll line the entrance to the church,” Caroline said.
Knights? “I thought you had a Regency period theme going? Carriages, maypoles…”
Caroline shook her head then rolled her eyes indulgently. “I told you about it last night in the limo, but you were reading stock reports and probably didn’t even hear me.”
He had to do better in that regard, he knew. He did tune her out sometimes because she tended to go on and on about details in which he really had no interest. He wanted a marriage in order to have a baby, but he didn’t care at all about the wedding.
“We’re doing medieval.” Caroline hooked an arm in his and winked at Anna. “I was thinking it’d be more dramatic, more exciting. We’re bound to get a couple of pages in Vanity Fair.”
“And that’s a goal of ours?” he asked wryly.
“I think it’s a given, darling. Austin Cahill is marrying Caroline Lamont. Two stars of Texas royalty getting hitched. Nothing cliché, nothing less than first class. Everything magical.”
God, he hated this. But he made himself smile. “Well, I’m sure you’ll make it spectacular. But…where are we going to find new armor?”
Caroline shrugged. “That’s Anna’s job. And afterward you can put it in the garden or something. Or I can take it with me. They’re bound to make spectacular conversation pieces.”
He had to grant her that. “Okay. Are we finished here?”
Caroline turned to Anna. “Can I call you as I get ideas and come up with questions?”
“Of course.” Anna handed Caroline a business card. “This has my cell phone, my e-mail and my fax.”
“Great.” Caroline tucked the card in a tiny lavender bag slung over her shoulder. Austin always wondered what was in there that could be important enough to carry around and still be small enough to fit in the four-by-four-inch space. She turned to him and giggled. “Anna thinks you’re medieval.”
Austin was surprised to learn that this beautiful woman had any opinions about him. But he was interested, also. “Have we met before?” he asked Anna.
She’d closed her eyes at Caroline’s statement, apparently in dignified mortification. She obviously hadn’t known Caroline long enough to learn that she expressed aloud every thought that came into her head.
Anna opened her eyes, and with a sigh and a fatalistic smile, she replied, “No, we haven’t. I…”
“She wanted me to save money on the wedding,” Caroline said, laughing, “so we could go shopping on our honeymoon, but I told her about our arrangement.”
He didn’t know why he should feel embarrassed in front of a wedding planner. Most of his close friends and several of his staff knew why he was getting married—they’d even suggested Anna as a consultant. Some praised his practical approach and others told him they thought he was crazy, but none of them had looked at him with such condemnation in their eyes.
“I didn’t realize,” he said a little stiffly, “that you were concerned with the reason for a wedding. I thought your job was to insure everything goes smoothly.”
She nodded, as though she’d expected him to say just that. “You’re right, of course,” she agreed. But before he could feel too righteous about having put her in her place, she added quietly, “I guess I thought the face of a woman being married solely for the purpose of producing a baby might reflect a less than joyful expression as she walked down the aisle. There should be something blue at every wedding, but it’s not supposed to be the bride.”
Smart-mouthed and quick. Not necessarily desirable qualities in a woman. Particularly when he couldn’t think of a comeback that wasn’t rude.
Then Caroline came to his rescue.
“So I explained that I was doing this willingly,” she said, squeezing his arm, “and that there was no problem.”
“Thank you, Carrie.” He turned a look on Anna intended to intimidate. “I assure you I’m not a villain, Ms. Maitland. But I realize you know nothing about me. Perhaps you’d prefer not to…”
“I know a lot about you, Mr. Cahill,” she said, clearly unaffected by his glare. He must be losing his touch. “You went to Harvard on a scholarship and hold a master’s degree in business administration. You’d made a million dollars in the hotel business by the time you were thirty and added mall development to your ventures, along with a few odds-and-ends companies like…” She narrowed her eyes as she obviously worked to recall a name. “Gordon Maps and Books,” she finally said with a little smile of triumph, “and Bronson Builders. Today you are the head of a multibillion-dollar company, Cahill Corporation, and—” she sniffed the air and smile devilishly “—your fragrance is Brooks Brothers.”
He was more fascinated by her knowledge than annoyed by her one-upmanship. “You read Forbes?” he asked. The magazine had done a piece on him several months before.
“My son does,” she replied. “You’re his idol.”
The compliment took him by surprise. “Me?” he asked incredulously.
She nodded, a soft light coming into her eyes. “Will is ten, and he isn’t into athletes or rock stars, but business moguls. He intends to be one himself one day.”
He had to laugh. “Good for him. I had a lucrative lawn and garden care business going when I was ten.”
“He takes care of my sisters’ and my stock portfolios,” she said, “and has formed a Fuzzy Buddies clearinghouse for his friends so they can buy, sell or trade to keep their collections complete.”
“Fuzzy Buddies?”
“Those little plush toys everybody’s collecting,” Caroline said in clarification. “I’ve got the flamingo hanging from my rearview mirror.” She turned to Anna, her eyes bright. “That’s so cute! You should meet Anna’s son, Austin. The little guy would probably love that!”
Austin tried to imagine a ten-year-old boy being as enthused about business as most kids that age were about sports, but couldn’t. Anna Maitland was flattering him for the sake of his business.
But she did know all about him. Maybe she’d read the Forbes article?
“There’s a lot going on while we’re here, Carrie,” he said. “And I am trying to run a business by remote control.”
“But you can make time.” Caroline frowned at him.
He tried to usher her toward the door. “I’m sure I’d prove to be a disappointment in person.”
“Austin…”
“So you can work with us, Ms. Maitland,” he asked, pulling the door open, “even while offended by the reason for our marriage?”
Anna followed them to the door, and Caroline stepped into the hallway. “I wasn’t judging, Mr. Cahill,” she said. “I was just offering an opinion. And if you’re offended by that, you might want to hire another consultant.”
“I have no problem with other people’s opinions,” he said, “when they relate to business. But I don’t like interference in my personal life.”
She held the door while he passed through it. “It was an opinion on Caroline’s life. She is the bride, after all, and seeing that the bride has everything she wants on her special day is my job.”
“Good,” he said. “You take care that she has everything she needs for the wedding, and I’ll worry about her mental and emotional well-being.”
No large undertaking, he knew. Caroline had shut off her deepest feelings long ago, and her mental well-being was just fine because she skimmed along the surface of her emotions fearful of rekindling the ones she’d disconnected.
He could see from the expression in Anna Maitland’s eyes that though she might not know the details, she’d already grasped the obvious about Caroline.
With a patronizing subservience he didn’t trust for a moment, she inclined her head.
“You’ll have a wonderful wedding,” she assured him, stepping back through the doorway as Caroline led him toward the elevator. “And Caroline will be a beautiful bride.” She waved at Caroline, then closed the door to her office.
He wanted Caroline to be the bride all women dreamed of being so she would never feel that she’d sacrificed anything to give him his baby.
They stopped to wait for the elevator.
“My word!” Caroline exclaimed with a shake of her head. “Are you two going to argue until the moment I walk up the aisle? Why is her opinion so important to you?”
“It isn’t. I just didn’t want her upsetting you.”
“Oh, we were just talking, one woman to another. Don’t worry about it. I know what I’m doing.”
“But are you happy about what you’re doing?”
She shrugged noncommittally. “I’m never happy, you know that. But I agreed, didn’t I? I have nothing going on for a year or so. We may as well make a baby.”
He felt that pinch again and gave the down button an impatient jab. Why did he want her to be happy, he wondered, when they didn’t love each other? It didn’t make sense.
“And I’m not upset,” Caroline went on. The light over the elevator blinked its arrival and a buzzer sounded. The doors parted on an empty car and they stepped inside. “In fact,” she said as the doors closed, “I’m pretty excited about the prospect of a medieval wedding.”
She smiled at him coaxingly. “You can ride a horse, can’t you?”
Austin forced himself not to shudder.
CHAPTER TWO
“MOM! WHERE ARE YOU?”
Will always came through the office door shouting for her, just as he did at home. The school bus dropped him off outside the building, and he did homework in a corner of her office until they went home together.
She sat behind her desk, in plain sight, not ten feet from the doorway in which he stood. She’d often wondered if his father’s absence made him want to keep close tabs on her.
“Right here in front of your face, Will,” she said, gesturing him to come to her. “Where else would I be?”
He dropped his backpack on her desk and wrapped her in a sturdy hug. She relished it, knowing that the next ten years would pass with the speed of the last ten and he’d soon be in college somewhere thinking about business and women and forgetting to give his mother the time of day.
She studied him as he drew away and leaned against her desk, his white sweater smudged and his jeans muddy at the knees. He had her dark hair and eyes, though he’d inherited his father’s aristocratic nose and chin. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and a usually serious air, though he did have a wry sense of humor and a sunny smile. He smiled at her now.
“You’re always saying that one day Michael Keaton’s going to come and take you away to the Batcave. I thought he might have come while I was gone.”
“As if I’d leave for the Batcave without you. Did you eat all your lunch?”
“Except for the carrot sticks I traded to Ashley Bates.”
“Traded for what?”
“A cupcake.”
Anna groaned. “Will, I try to balance your lunch so that you get all the nutrition you—”
“Mom,” he interrupted reasonably, “if someone wanted to give you a cupcake for your carrot sticks, you’d have to be brain-dead not to make the deal. It was like getting Microsoft stock for railroad shares.”
Anna laughed and hugged him again. He was the best thing in a life filled with pretty good stuff, and she never took that for granted for a moment.
“What did you have for lunch?” he asked, falling into her client’s chair.
“Caesar salad with shrimp.”
“Ah. Austin Eats again, huh? I know it’s only across the street, Mom, but you’re in a rut.”
She nodded and pushed to her feet. “And if you don’t mind digging yourself in there with me, I noticed they had chicken and dumplings on the dinner menu.” It was one of his favorite meals—and the cook-housekeeper’s day off. “Want to eat there tonight?”
“Please. Anything’s better than those frozen chicken and spinach calzone things we had last week.” He crossed his eyes and made a terrible face. “Even your cooking would be better than those.”
She chased him to the elevator.
AUSTIN EATS was a small diner with a circular counter in the middle of the room and square tables and chairs all around. It served fifty or so customers and was busy for every meal and most times in between.
Framed photographs of local events lined the pale yellow walls, and a large bulletin board behind the cashier was a rotating gallery of new babies, birthday-party photos and postcards from vacationing patrons.
It was like eating at home surrounded by friends and not having to cook.
Two glasses of ice water were placed on the table the moment Anna and Will settled in one of the window booths.
“And how are my two favorite customers?” Mary Jane Potter asked with a bright smile. She was in her early twenties and small but buff, her curly brown hair caught up in a casual topknot. She wore her Austin Eats uniform with great style and a very serious-looking pair of athletic shoes. She took a pad and pen from her apron pocket and winked at Will.
“How’s my Scully Sports Equipment stock, Will?”
“Up two-thirds of a point,” Will replied with a proud smile. “Slow growth is good.”
Mary Jane grinned at him. “Then how come you’re getting so tall?”
“He’s a blue-chip stock,” Anna said. “We’re here for the chicken and dumplings, Mary Jane. Is Shelby cooking tonight?” Shelby Lord owned Austin Eats.
“No, Sara’s cooking.”
“Does she make it as well as Shelby does?” Will wanted to know.
Mary Jane scribbled on her pad. “Maybe even better. She must have worked for Wolfgang Puck in her other life. Salads or soup? The soup’s tomato rice today.”
“Soup!” Will said with enthusiasm.
Anna shook her head. “Neither, thanks. Just some coffee.”
“Right. And milk for Will.”
“Pepsi,” Will corrected.
“Milk.” Anna overruled him. “Thanks, Mary Jane.”
