Nordic Heroes: In the Market and a Wholesale Arrangement (31 page)

T
he next two weeks flew by, bringing her wedding day closer and closer, and stretching her nerves further and further. She didn’t hear a word from Joe Milano, much to her relief. Either he didn’t know about her forthcoming nuptials, an unlikely possibility, considering the size of the announcement Thor put in the newspaper, or he thought discretion the better part of valor.

She grinned, flipping through the pile of papers cluttering her desk. It probably wasn’t either of those. At a guess, Caesar had ordered him to stay away. After all, Joe could take full credit for breaking up her engagement last time. Caesar might be unwilling to risk that happening again.

The phone rang from somewhere nearby. Four rings later, she uncovered it beneath a stack of produce brochures. “Constantine’s,” she said hurriedly into the receiver.

“Andrea?” a lightly accented voice responded. “Sonja Thorsen here.”

“Hello, Mrs. Thorsen.” Andrea tensed. Why in the world would Thor’s mother be calling?

“Make it Sonja, please. I’d like to discuss wedding plans with you, if it’s convenient.”

Andrea sagged in relief. Naturally. How silly not to realize right off. “Wedding plans. Of course. I’d forgotten.” She bit her tongue. Not the most diplomatic admission to make to her future mother-in-law. Her temporary future mother-in-law, she corrected.

Sonja chuckled. “I’m surprised you’re so calm, considering all Thor’s plans for this ceremony.”

Say what?
Andrea straightened in her chair. “Pardon?”

“I’m pleased you trust me with the wedding preparations. But I’m uncertain about one or two of the details. Would you have time to get together for lunch tomorrow? I realize how busy you are at Constantine’s.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Where had she put her calendar book? Andrea shuffled through her papers. Think, darn it. She’d last seen it beneath the phone messages. No, she vaguely remembered burying it under last quarter’s profit-and-loss statement.

Misinterpreting the prolonged silence, Sonja added hesitantly. “It won’t be the two of us alone. Jordan will be there. I thought you’d appreciate her involvement.”

“Thank you, I would. If I seem a little disorganized, it’s because I’m a little disorganized.”

Sonja laughed, her relief clear. “I’ve never known a bride who wasn’t.”

Finding her book, Andrea hastily flipped through the pages. Anything scheduled could be canceled. “Tomorrow? Looks fine,” she assured Sonja. Taking an extraordinary amount of satisfaction, she drew a heavy black line through Thor’s noon appointment. “What time would work best for you?”

“Does one o’clock suit?”

“One is perfect.”

“Good.” A delicate pause followed. Then the older woman said, “I’m delighted you and Thor are together again. I never met such a well-suited couple.”

Oh, Lord. What did she say to that? “I— You— He—” Clever, Andrea. Very articulate. She sighed, giving up. “Thanks.”

“I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I? I’m sorry,” Sonja said, then added briskly, “You must be busy, so I won’t keep you. I look forward to tomorrow. We’ll talk then.
Adjø, datter.
”

Goodbye, daughter. It had a pleasant ring to it. “Bye,” Andrea murmured, and hung up.

She stared at the phone for several long seconds, something the other woman said nagging at her. What did she mean, all Thor’s plans for their wedding ceremony? The word
all
made things sound rather elaborate. He’d promised to take care of the wedding arrangements. Just what, she wondered in growing suspicion, did that entail? Snatching up the receiver, she punched in his number.

She ignored Thor’s friendly greeting. “What’s going on?” she demanded abruptly.

“Skip your morning coffee, sweetheart?”

“Don’t sweetheart me. I just spoke to your mother, and she’s acting like our marriage is going to be real or something.”

“It will be real. Very real.”

“You know what I mean,” she snarled into the receiver. “Sonja’s invited me to lunch tomorrow.”

“No! How could she do that to her future daughter-in-law?”

“Stop laughing and be serious! Did you warn her about the divorce?”

“I just told her about the wedding. It seemed a little crass to talk divorce so soon after announcing our engagement.”

She ground her teeth. “I want you to tell your family the truth.”

“And what is the truth?”

“That we’re marrying to protect our joint business interests.”

“No, that’s why you’re marrying.”

His statement stopped her cold. What did he mean by that? “What do you mean by that? If it isn’t for business reasons, why are you marrying me?”

“Still haven’t figured it out?”

“Apparently not. Care to clue me in?”

He chuckled. “Nope. And as for your request, I have no intention of mentioning a divorce to my family. You, on the other hand, may feel free to tell them anything you’d like.”

“You don’t mind?” she asked, nonplussed.

“If I did, I wouldn’t have suggested it. I’m not reticent about my wishes, now am I?”

“No, you’re not.” Anything but. Not only wasn’t he reticent, he also had a very effective method of getting her to go along with him. She touched her lips, remembering. Too effective.

“Andrea?”

“What?”

“Is there anything else? I do have a business to run.”

His words stung and she didn’t like it. He shouldn’t have that power over her any longer. “There’s nothing else,” she said shortly, and hung up.

Fifteen seconds later the phone rang. She answered it automatically. “Constant—”

“You didn’t say goodbye,” Thor’s voice rumbled against her ear. “I’m not so busy I don’t have time to say a proper goodbye to my fiancée.”

A tiny smile flickered across her mouth.
The idiot.
“Goodbye, Mr. Thorsen.”

“If I were there, I’d be touching you.” At her soft gasp, he murmured, “Goodbye, sweetheart.”

Before she could gather her wits sufficiently to respond, he hung up. She slowly replaced the receiver, warm color creeping into her cheeks. Not again. She couldn’t let herself feel anything for him again. It hurt too much. She shut her eyes and groaned. To her dismay, she realized that decision had come much, much too late.

T
he next day at precisely one o’clock, Andrea pulled into the Thorsens’ driveway. The few times she’d visited during her previous engagement to Thor, she’d been enchanted by the sprawling estate. Perched high atop the hillside of Magnolia, it commanded a magnificent view of Puget Sound.

Stepping from her car, she paused to watch the ferries move across the steel-gray waters. She wished she could stand here all day taking in the glory of the Olympic Mountains and the crisp refreshing scent of the salty air. But she couldn’t. Unable to delay the inevitable, she crossed the broad expanse of green lawn. Jordan Roberts, now Thorsen, sat in a swing on the front porch.

“I was too excited to wait inside,” the petite brunette admitted. She gave a gamine grin. “I’m thrilled for you and Thor. I never thought you’d make up. Tell me everything.”

Guilt swept over Andrea. She should have called and explained the true circumstances surrounding her wedding. The two of them had been best friends all their lives, partially due to the fact Jordan’s family owned a retail produce market. For as many years as Andrea could remember, the Roberts and Constantines had done business together. It wasn’t until the Thorsens bought Cornucopia, Jordan’s market, and she’d married Thor’s brother, that a certain reserve had grown between them. Honesty compelled her to admit she’d felt reserved, not Jordan.

Andrea cleared her throat, determined to confess all. “Yes, well—”

Jordan jumped up and gave her an impulsive hug, the bulge of her stomach butting against Andrea’s hip. “Look at how huge I’ve gotten,” she said, patting the protrusion. “It’s all Rainer’s fault.”

Andrea lifted an eyebrow. “I’m relieved to hear it.”

Jordan groaned. “I meant, the Thorsens are big men. They grow big babies. I guess you’ll find that out soon enough.” She grinned slyly. “Oh-ho, that made you blush.”

“About this wedding—”

“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss it after lunch.” Jordan linked her arm with Andrea’s and ushered her in the door. “You should see the spread Sonja prepared.”

“I can’t wait, but—”

“Alaric’s looking forward to seeing you, too. I always suspected he had a soft spot where you were concerned.”

Andrea hadn’t expected to see Thor’s father, so the news came as a pleasant surprise. “He’s a sweetie,” she agreed, thinking fast. Maybe she wouldn’t say anything about the divorce. There’d be plenty of time to confess the truth later. Why rush in and ruin things? Yes, she’d wait until a more appropriate time.

To Andrea’s relief, lunch progressed very pleasantly. She’d forgotten how much she liked Thor’s mother. The tall, slender woman possessed a delightful sense of humor, her hazel eyes constantly alight with mischief. And Alaric, with his droll wit, kept them all laughing straight through the final cup of coffee.

Once they finished, Sonja stood. “This has been wonderful,” she declared. “But if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take care of these dishes. Jordan, why don’t you help me.” She waved a restraining hand at Andrea. “No, no. You sit. We won’t be a minute.”

Alaric waited until the two women left before speaking. “So Thor finally managed to hook you again,” he commented in his blunt fashion. “I didn’t think he’d pull it off.”

She smiled, reluctant to bring up uncomfortable topics. “I didn’t make it easy for him.”

“Good.” He nodded his approval. “He’ll value winning you all the more.” He thumped the arms of his wheelchair. “If it weren’t for this thing, I’d have given him a swift kick when he first lost you.”

“Would it have worked?” she asked, her smile growing.

He returned her grin with one so much like Thor’s it hurt. “Not with him. He’s stubborn.”

“Really?” she murmured. “I hadn’t noticed.” An instant later they both broke into laughter.

“You will be good for my son,” Alaric approved. “He needs someone with a sense of humor.”

“I agree,” Sonja said, breezing into the room with Jordan. She stopped by Alaric’s chair and gave his shoulder a loving squeeze. “The sooner they marry, the better. For now, come. I have a surprise for you, Andrea. Jordan, you should see this, as well.”

She led them upstairs and down a hallway. Opening the door to a guest room, she gestured toward the bed. A beautiful Norwegian dress lay on the quilted coverlet. An apron embroidered in red, white, green, and gold covered the forest-green, calf-length skirt. Matching embroidery decorated the collar of the white blouse and trim of the red vest. Andrea ran a gentle hand over the silver filigree buttons edging the bodice.

“This is lovely!” she exclaimed.

“It’s a
bunad.”
Sonja smiled, misty-eyed. “Three generations of women in my family have been married in this gown. I’d be honored if you wore it on your wedding day, Andrea.”

“I couldn’t!” She spoke without thought, and then glanced apprehensively at the older woman, unable to hide her dismay. How could she explain to Thor’s mother that it would be a mockery for her to wear something with such a rich tradition? “You’re too generous,” she said weakly.

“Nonsense. It’s a wonderful idea,” Jordan said with an excited laugh. “I was too short to wear it for my wedding. This will be the perfect alternative. Won’t Thor be surprised when he sees you?”

That could possibly be the understatement of the century. “I don’t think—” Andrea began.

“You have to have a
bunad,”
Jordan interrupted. “It’s a traditional wedding. That means wearing a traditional gown.”

Andrea strove to appear less confused than she felt. “Traditional?”

“Jordan’s right. It would seem strange if the bride wore anything else. I’m sure Thor expects it,” Sonja concurred. “Besides, it would mean so much to me.”

And that said it all. What else could she do but give in? “I’d love to, thank you,” she said sincerely, and gave her mother-in-law-to-be a quick hug. “That takes care of the dress. What’s left?”

Jordan’s eyes gleamed with laughter. “Horseback lessons, for one. Do you know how to ride sidesaddle?”

Andrea blinked. “We’re getting married on a horse?”

“Thor didn’t tell you, did he?” Sonja sighed, muttering something rude in Norwegian. At least Andrea assumed it was rude. It certainly sounded rude.

She fought panic. “Tell me what?”

The other two exchanged significant glances. Sonja enlightened her. “That it’s to be a traditional Norwegian country wedding,” she said. “Thor’s insisted on it all, authentic costumes, a three-day celebration, a horseback wedding procession to the church.”

“I think he overlooked mentioning that little detail,” Andrea admitted numbly. And when she got her hands on that man, he wouldn’t walk for a week, much less ride a damn horse to his—
their
—wedding.

“Honestly! What could he be thinking?” his mother fumed.

“That she’d bolt if he told her,” Andrea’s best friend in the whole world blithely revealed. “Which she would. Except we won’t let her.”