Holding the Dream (27 page)

“It'll be beautiful,” he said, sliding over her question. “Think of the gene pool it's coming from. A lot of times you think a baby could get lucky and get the best features of his parents. You know, his mother's eyes, his father's chin. Whatever. This one strikes gold anywhere he turns. Going to end up being spoiled rotten.”

“Are you kidding? You should see the nursery Margo and Josh put together. I'd like to live there.” She laughed and barely noticed he'd handed her tea rather than coffee. “They bought this incredible antique cradle, and this old-fashioned
English pram they found in Bath. We were going to have the baby shower next week at Templeton House. All that loot . . .” She trailed off.

“You'll have to make it an after-the-birth shower. What did you get?”

“It's silly.” She turned the cup around and around in her hands, trying not to cry or scream or simply bolt up and break into the birthing room. “Margo's got this thing for Italian designers. Especially Armani. They have this junior line. It's ridiculous.”

“You bought the baby an Armani?” He burst out laughing, roaring all the harder when she flushed.

“It's a joke,” she insisted. “Just a joke.” But she found herself smiling. “I guess the first time the kid spits up on it, the joke's on me.”

“You're incredibly sweet.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “Incredibly.”

“It's only money.”

Comforted, she leaned her head against his shoulder and watched her family. Laura had come back from checking on the girls and was sitting with Ann. Her aunt and uncle were standing at the window. Uncle Tommy's arm was around her aunt's shoulders. There was a television bolted to the wall. The Sunday news on CNN rolled by, reporting on a world that had nothing to do with the room where people waited.

Others came and went, bringing with them frissons of worry, anticipation, excitement. She heard the hollow echoes of the PA system, the brisk, efficient footsteps of nurses, and occasional laughter.

She saw a young man leading his enormously pregnant wife down the hall, rubbing her back with intense concentration as she took slow, measured steps.

“Laura always liked to walk during labor,” Kate murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Margo and I would take turns walking with her, rubbing her back, breathing with her.”

“What about her husband?”

“Right.” Kate made a derisive sound, eyed Laura to make certain she was out of earshot. “He didn't have time for the Lamaze route. Didn't consider it necessary. I was her coach for both girls, with Margo pinch-hitting.”

“I thought Margo was living in Europe during those years.”

“Yeah, but she came back for the births. Kayla was a few days early, and Margo was on assignment. The plan had been for her to spend the last week with Laura at Templeton House, but when she called from the plane, Laura had just gone into labor. Margo ended up coming to the hospital straight from the airport. We were with her,” she said fiercely. “Right there with her.”

“And Ridgeway?”

“Breezed in after everyone was all cleaned up and tidy. Made what I'm sure he considered a manful attempt to conceal his disappointment that the babies didn't have penises, then gave Laura some elaborate gift and left. Creep.”

“I've never met him,” Byron mused. “I can't say I'd formed a favorable opinion of him from reports. Normally I prefer to form my own opinion on a firsthand basis.” He was silent for a moment. “But I think I can make an exception in this case and just despise him.”

“Good call. She's well rid of him. As soon as she stops feeling guilty for being glad she's rid of him, she'll be fine. Oh, God, why is it taking so long? I can't stand it.” She sprang to her feet. “They've got to tell us something. We can't just sit here.”

A nurse in green scrubs stepped into the doorway. “Then perhaps you'd all like to take a little walk.”

“Margo,” Ann choked out as she got to her feet.

“Mrs. Templeton is doing just fine. And Mr. Templeton is floating somewhere in the vicinity of Cloud Nine. As for Baby Templeton, I think you'd like to see for yourselves. Come with me, please.”

“The baby.” Ann reached out, found Susan's hand. “She's had the baby. Do you think it's all right? Do you think it's healthy?”

“Let's go see. Come on, Grandma,” Susan murmured as she walked Ann out.

“I'm scared.” Trembling as she followed, Kate gripped Byron's hand. “The nurse was smiling, wasn't she? She wouldn't have been smiling if something was really wrong. You can tell by their eyes. You can tell if you look in their eyes. She said Margo was fine. Didn't she say Margo was fine?”

“That's exactly what she said. They'll let you see for yourself soon. And look at this.”

They approached a glass door. Behind it, Josh stood, the grin on his face breaking records. In his arms was a small bundle with a golden sprinkle of hair topped with a bright blue bow.

“It's a boy.” Thomas's voice broke as he pressed a hand to the glass. “Look at our grandson, Susie.”

“Five pounds,” Josh mouthed, gingerly tilting his son for his family to view. “Five full pounds. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Five full pounds.” He lowered his head to touch his lips to the baby's cheek.

“He's so tiny.” With her eyes swimming, Kate wrapped her arms around Laura. “He's so beautiful.”

“John Thomas Templeton.” Laura let her own tears fall. “Welcome home.”

They cooed at him, objecting noisily when a nurse came to take him away. When Josh came through the door they fell on him as villagers might fall on a conquering hero.

“Five pounds,” he said again, burrowing his face in his mother's hair. “Did you hear that? He's five pounds even. They said that was really good. He has all the right working parts. They're going to check him out some more because he didn't cook enough, but—”

“He looked done to me,” Byron put in. “Have a cigar, Daddy.”

“Jesus.” Josh stared at the cigar Byron handed him. “Daddy. Oh. I'm supposed to be passing out the cigars.”

“Handling details is part of my job description. Grandma.”
Byron handed one to Ann, who delighted everyone by popping it into her mouth.

“Margo, Josh.” Laura took his hand. “How is she?”

“Amazing. She's the most amazing woman. He came out wailing. Did I tell you?” Laughing, he lifted Laura off her feet, kissed her. He couldn't seem to get the words out fast enough. “Just howling. And the minute he did, Margo started to laugh. She was exhausted, and we were both scared bloodless. Then he just slid out.”

Baffled, he clasped his hands together and stared at them. “It's the most incredible thing. You can't imagine. Well, you can, but you had to be there. He's crying and Margo's laughing, and the doctors says, ‘Well, it looks like there's nothing wrong with his pipes.' Nothing wrong with his pipes,” Josh repeated, his voice hitching. “Nothing wrong with him.”

“Of course not.” Thomas closed Josh in a bear hug. “He's a Templeton.”

“Not that we're not glad to see you.” Kate brushed the hair back from Josh's face. “But when are they going to let us in to see Margo?”

“I don't know. In a minute, I guess. She had the nurse get her purse.” His grin broke out fresh. “She wanted to fix her makeup.”

“Typical.” Kate turned and threw her arms around Byron. “That's just typical.”

The week following the appearance of J. T. Templeton was hectic and complicated. Laura's schedule didn't allow for more than a few hours at the shop. With Margo involved with her new son, Kate was left to deal with the results of a successful reception. Early delivery had thrown their vague plans for interviewing and hiring a part-time clerk out the window.

Kate was on her own.

She opened the shop every day, learned to control her impulses to hurry browsers along. Though she would never understand the appeal of dawdling in a store, she told herself to appreciate that others enjoyed it.

She studied the inventory lists and tried to recognize the more esoteric items in Pretenses' stock. But why anyone would feel the need to own a designer pillbox with pearl inlay remained beyond her.

Simple honesty was sometimes taken for a credit, sometimes an insult. For every woman who appreciated being told
an outfit didn't suit her, there were two who bristled at the information.

She persevered by remembering that for at least one hour every day she could close herself in the back office and be alone, blissfully alone, with her ledgers.

They didn't talk back.

“The customer is always right,” Kate muttered to herself. “The customer is always right—even when the customer is an asshole.” She marched out of the wardrobe room where one particular customer had just informed her that the Donna Karan was mislabeled. It couldn't possibly be a size ten, as it was too snug at the hips.

“Too snug at the hips, my butt. The old bat couldn't get one thigh in a size ten if she greased it with motor oil.”

“Miss, oh, miss.” Another customer snapped her fingers, like a diner signaling a particularly slow waitress to bring more wine. Kate gritted her teeth into a smile.

“Yes, ma'am. Can I help you?”

“I want to see this bracelet. The Victorian slide. No, no. I said the Victorian slide, not the gold cuff.”

“Sorry.” Kate tried again, following the direction of the woman's pointing finger. “It's charming, isn't it?” Fussy and foolish. “Would you like to try it on?”

“How much is it?”

There's a tag right on it, isn't there? Still smiling, Kate turned the tag around, read off the price.

“And what are those stones?”

Oh, shit. She'd studied, hadn't she? “I believe there's garnet and . . . carnelian and . . .” What was that yellow one? Topaz? Amber? Citrine? “Citrine,” she hazarded, because it sounded more Victorian to her.

As the customer studied the bracelet, Kate scanned the shop. Just her luck, she thought. It was packed, and Laura was gone for the day. She had three hours to go, and in three hours she judged that what was left of her mind would resemble a mass of cold rice.

The sound of the door jangling made her want to whimper.
When she saw who breezed in she wanted to scream.

Candy Litchfield. Her long-standing enemy. Candy Litchfield, whose bouncy stride and perky looks, tumbling red hair and perfect nose hid the heart of a spider.

And she'd brought pals, Kate noted as her heart sank. Perfectly groomed, canny-eyed society matrons in Italian shoes.

“I never find anything I like in here,” Candy announced in her bright and far-reaching voice. “But Millicent told me she'd noticed a perfume atomizer that might fit in with my collection. Of course, they overprice everything.”

She strolled through, envy packed solidly in ill will.

“Can I show you something else?” Kate said to the customer, who was now studying Candy as carefully as the bracelet.

“No.” She hesitated, but avarice won over and she took out her credit card. “Would you gift wrap it, please? It's for my daughter's birthday.”

“Of course.”

She boxed and wrapped, rang up and bagged, all the while keeping a weather eye on Candy's progress. Two customers left without a purchase, but Kate refused to give Candy's viciously criticizing tongue credit for it.

Feeling like Gary Cooper at the end of
High Noon
, she stepped out from behind the counter to face them alone. “What do you want, Candy?”

“I'm browsing in a public retail facility.” She smiled thinly, and exuded a not-so-subtle whiff of Opium. “I believe you're supposed to offer me a glass of rather inferior champagne. Isn't that store policy?”

“Help yourself.”

“I was told by a friend there was a perfume bottle that I might like to have.” Candy cast an eye over the displays. Her gaze latched on to a gorgeous design in the shape of a woman's body, beautifully fashioned in frosted rose glass.

She would have revealed her own age before she would have shown a flicker of interest.

“I can't imagine what she was thinking of,” she drawled.

“She probably mistook your taste.” Kate smiled. “That is, she mistook you for having any. How's the pool boy these days?”

Candy, who had a reputation for enjoying very young men in between husbands, bristled. “How does it feel to be a shop clerk? I heard you were fired. Stealing clients' funds, Kate. How . . . ordinary.”

“Someone must have pruned your grapevine prematurely, Candy Cane. You're way behind.”

“Am I?” She filled a glass to the rim with champagne. “Am I really? Everyone knows that with the Templeton influence behind you, all your petty crimes will be brushed aside. Like your father's were.” Her smile sharpened when she saw that shaft strike home. “But then, only fools would have you handling their accounts now.” She sipped delicately. “Where there's smoke, after all. You're so lucky to have rich friends who'll throw you crumbs. But then, you always were.”

“Always wanted to be a Templeton, didn't you?” Kate said sweetly. “But Josh never looked twice in your direction. We used to laugh about it. Margo and Laura and I. Why don't you finish your champagne and go diddle your pool boy, Candy? You're really wasting your time here.”

Candy's skin darkened, but she kept her voice even. Her approach had been to divide and conquer. She'd never been able to score any real points when Kate had Margo or Laura around. But alone . . . And this time she had more ammunition.

“I've heard you're seeing quite a bit of Byron De Witt. And that he's seeing quite a bit of you.”

“I'm so flattered you've taken an interest in my sex life, Candy. I'll let you know when we release the video.”

“A smart, ambitious man like Byron would be very aware of the advantages of developing a relationship with the Templeton ward. Imagine how high up he can climb using you as a springboard.”

Kate's face went blank, pleasing Candy enormously. Candy sipped more wine, her eyes alive with malice as she studied
Kate over the rim. The malice blurred into shock as Kate threw back her head and laughed.

“God, you really are an idiot.” Weak with laughter, Kate took a few steps to the side so she could support herself against the counter. “To think we just thought you were a mean little snake. All this time you've just been stupid. Do you actually believe a man like Byron needs to use anybody?” Because her ribs were beginning to ache, she took several deep breaths. Something in Candy's eyes tipped her off. “Oh, I get it. I get it. He didn't look twice at you either, did he?”

“You bitch,” Candy hissed. She slammed down her glass before stalking over to Kate. “You couldn't get a man on your own if you danced naked in front of a Marine band. Everyone knows why he's sleeping with you.”

“Everyone can think what they want. I'll just enjoy it.”

“Peter says he's an ambitious corporate shill.”

Now Kate's interest peaked. “Peter does, does he?”

“The Templetons booted Peter out because Laura whined about the divorce. They were so concerned with protecting their darling daughter they ignored the fact that Peter is an excellent hotelier. All the years he worked for them, helped build the Templeton chain into what it is today.”

“Oh, please. Peter never built anything but his own ego.”

“He'll use his talents to open his own hotel soon.”

“With Templeton money,” Kate commented, thinking about Laura and the girls. “How . . . ironic.”

“Laura wanted the divorce. Peter was entitled to financial compensation.”

“You'd know all about making a profit out of marriage terminations.” Kate decided Candy's visit wasn't such a pain in the butt after all—not when it brought along such interesting news. “Going to use some of your alimony to invest in Ridgeway's hotel?”

“My accountant, who isn't a thief, considers it a smart investment.” Her lips curved again. “I believe I'll enjoy being in the hotel business.”

“Well, you've spent a lot of time in them, on the hourly plan.”

“How droll you are. Hold on to that sense of humor, Kate. You'll need it.” Candy's smile was still there, but her teeth were set. “Byron De Witt will make use of you until he achieves the position he wants. Then he won't need you anymore.”

“Then I guess I'd better enjoy the ride.” She angled her head. “So you've set your sights on Peter Ridgeway. That's just fascinating.”

“We've run into each other in Palm Springs a number of times and have discovered many mutual interests.” She smoothed her hair. “Be sure to tell Laura he's looking extremely well. Extremely.”

“I'll do that,” Kate said as Candy headed for the door. “And I'll give Byron your best. No, on second thought, I'll give him mine.”

She snickered, turning when the customer nearest the counter cleared her throat. The woman's eyes darted from the door to Kate, bright and wary as a bird's. “Ah, show me these evening bags. If you don't mind?”

“Sure.” Kate beamed at her. For some reason Candy's visit had brightened her mood. “I'd love to. Have you shopped with us before?”

“Yes, actually, I have.”

Kate took three ridiculously fussy jeweled bags from the shelf. “We value your business. Aren't these just fabulous?”
 

“And then she said how lucky I was to have rich friends throwing me crumbs.” Kate stuffed a home-baked chocolate chip cookie into her mouth. “So thanks, since I suppose you're one of my rich friends.”

“What an ass.” From her position on the patio chaise Margo stretched up her arms.

“She hit me with the business about my father.”

Margo lowered her arms again, slowly. “I'm sorry. Damn it, Kate.”

“I knew I'd get smacked with it sooner or later. I just hate that it was her, of all people. I hate more that she could see she'd jabbed me. I wish it didn't matter, Margo.”

“Everything about the people we love matters. I'm sorry I wasn't there.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “I'm really overdue for a manicure. I think Candy's day for the salon is Wednesday. Won't it be fun to bump into her?”

Well able to picture the event, and the outcome, Kate chuckled. “Give yourself a couple weeks to get back in shape, champ, then you can take her on. I knew I'd feel better if I came here to wallow.”

“Remember that the next time you've got something eating away at your insides.”

“Never going to let me forget that, are you?” Kate muttered. “I said I was wrong not to tell you and Laura. I was stupid.”

“After you've said it at regular intervals for the next year or two, we'll forget all about it.”

“I have such understanding friends. Christ, these are criminal,” Kate mumbled through another cookie. “It must be great having Annie here baking and fussing.”

“It really is. I never would have believed we could live under the same roof again, even for the short term. It was awfully sweet of Laura to insist that Mum stay here for a couple of weeks.”

“Speaking of Laura.” Kate had made a point of dropping by Margo's after work, knowing that Laura would be too busy for an early-evening visit. “Candy mentioned Peter.”

“So?”

“It was the way she mentioned him. First she was on me and Byron.”

“Excuse me.” Margo indulged in a cookie herself. “In what way?”

“Well, she said how he's a corporate shill, and he's using me to earn points with the Templetons. You know, like he brings me to orgasm, and they give him another promotion.”

“That's pathetic.” She narrowed her eyes at Kate's face. “You didn't buy that?”

“No.” She shook her head quickly. “No. I might have if it had been anyone other than Byron. It was a pretty clever chain to pull. But he's just not made that way. I laughed at her.”

“Good for you. What does that have to do with Peter?”

“Apparently that's where she got the idea. At least partially. It sounds to me as if they've gotten . . . close.”

“Jesus. What a frightening thought.” She shuddered dramatically. “Two creeps in a pod.”

“She wanted to make sure I mentioned it to Laura. I don't know if I should.”

“Let it alone,” Margo said immediately. “Laura doesn't need that. If she hears it, she hears it. Besides, with Candy's track record, it's probably already fizzled.”

“I was leaning that way.” Kate toyed with the rest of her cappuccino, studied the view. “It's so beautiful here. I never really told you what a terrific job you've done putting the place together. Making it like home.”

“It is home. It was, straight off.” Margo smiled. “I owe that to you. You're the one who told me about the place.”

“It seemed right for you—you and Josh. Do you think you can tell sometimes if a place is where you want to be?”

“I know it. It was Templeton House for me. I was too young to remember anything before we came there, but it was home, always. My flat in Milan.”

When Margo broke off, Kate shifted uncomfortably. “I'm sorry. Didn't mean to stir up old memories.”

“It's all right. I loved that flat. Everything about it. I was home there, too. It was right for me at the time.” She shrugged her shoulders. “If things had stayed as they were, it would be right for me still. But they didn't. I didn't. Then there was the shop.” She smiled and sat up straighter. “Remember how I was so dazzled by that big, empty building while you and Laura rolled your eyes and wondered if you should cart me off?”