All Through the Night: A Troubleshooter Christmas (15 page)

“It's sad,” he said, with what he no doubt hoped was a winning smile. “I know. I'm trying hard to overcome it.”

Sure he was. On Friday, when Will had called to set a time to discuss his latest assignment, she'd made the mistake of telling him their Monday morning schedule, and asking him to wait to arrive until after Robin had left for a casting session at Urban Studios.

Apparently Will wasn't going to follow the rules. Including the one she hadn't told him yet—about not looking at her as if she were something he wanted from the dessert cart.

Or maybe he
was
aware of that rule, because he tried to make his smile less about hunger and more about friendly teasing. “I had no idea we were dressing for our little meeting,” he quipped. “I would have worn my top hat and tails.”

“This is how I dress for work,” Dolphina informed him coolly, despite the fact that she
had
taken extra care with her appearance this morning. She'd foolishly believed—after Friday's somewhat lengthy phone call—that Will had moved out of the liability column and over into the assets. But it was definitely a different kind of ass who showed up two hours early. Wearing jeans and sneakers, and badly needing a haircut, to boot.

“For God's sake, come in,” Robin said. “Don't leave the door open. It's freezing out there.”

“California Boy thinks thirty-seven degrees is freezing.” Jules now came down the stairs, tying his tie, as Will came in and Dolphina reluctantly closed the door behind him.

Her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the number, immediately silencing it as she saw who was on the other end. Just what she needed right now—Mr. I Need to Talk to Jules or Robin Immediately, Regardless of the Fact That Neither of Them Wish to Speak to Me. Let him get bumped to voicemail, because no, she had
not
spoken to Jules or Robin yet this morning. It was one of the other issues she had intended to discuss with them—before Will had shown up early.

And before she'd received the mail.

“Will should come back later,” she told her two bosses, neither of whom paid her the slightest attention.

“It's
much
colder than that with the wind chill,” Robin was defending himself to Jules as he moved to the little table by the front door and flipped through the latest stack of catalogues.

“Wait until January, sweetie,” Jules told Robin with a laugh. “
Then
we'll talk about wind chill.” He headed for the kitchen and the coffee, even as Will took off his overcoat.

Oh, no. No, no. Leave that on. “I really do need you to come back later,” Dolphina tried speaking directly to Will.

Of course, this was when Robin glanced up. “He's here now, what's the big?”

The
big
is that your freaking father isn't coming to your wedding, and someone—probably me—is going to have to show you that awful note that he wrote.
Things not to say in front of a reporter. Dolphina gritted her teeth, and said, “We
do
have some business to discuss before you go.”

“How many Pottery Barn catalogues do two men need, anyway?” Robin mused.

Enough was enough.

“Reporter in the house!” Dolphina shouted at the top of her lungs, and both Will and Robin turned to look at her in varying degrees of surprise.

Jules even came back from the kitchen, no doubt to see if she'd completely lost her mind.

“Sorry,” she added at a more normal level, in that special tone she reserved for when she wasn't feeling particularly apologetic. “But I just feel as if there should be some kind of warning—maybe a red light flashing when he's here? Guys, he's not your new friend Will. He's a reporter for
The Boston Globe.
He's here to write about you. Don't say anything stupid.”

“You mean, like,
Hey, Dolph, things got a little rambunctious last night and my pig mask broke. Will you be a sweetheart and order me a new one?
” Robin said.
“In fact, better get two.”

Jules cracked up as he went back to his single-minded coffee quest.

“Glad to see you have a sense of humor about that,” Will told Robin.

Who shot him a look. “Barely.”

“Where should I put this?” Will asked Dolphina
—this
being his coat.

“Back. On,” she said, even as Robin asked, “Where's the rest of the mail?”

Oh, hell.

He went into the office before she could stop him or otherwise try to distract him—where was Jules when she needed him? But now her job was to get Will out of there before the mail hit the fan.

“I'll take that.” She snatched his coat from him, tossing it over the newel post as she grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the living room. “Why don't you go into the kitchen and get yourself some coffee?”

“
Son
of a
bitch,
” Robin expleted from the other room.

“Seriously, Will,” Dolphina said when he seemed more interested in Robin's outburst than the coffee, hoping against hope that the man who'd been so kind to her on Thanksgiving morning was somewhere in those sneakers and that surprisingly soft green sweater. “Please go into the kitchen. Now?”

Will had no clue what was going on, but whatever he saw in her eyes made him nod, and head more rapidly in that direction.

But Robin came to the office door and stopped him. “Don't go anywhere, Will.” He looked at Dolphina. He was trying hard to pretend that he wasn't upset. He was good. The man could act his butt off, but
she
knew better. “What's the point? Everyone's going to find out sooner or later, anyway. I'd rather have it be a news item now, than on our wedding day.”

Oh, dear. She raised her voice. “Jules, could you please come here for a sec?”

Robin tapped the response card with one of his long, graceful fingers as he told Will. “My father's not coming to the wedding.”

Jules, of course, heard him as he came back out of the kitchen. “Oh, sweetie,” he said. “I'm sorry to hear that.” He looked at Dolphina to verify. “We finally got his response?”

She nodded, reaching to take his mug of coffee from him as he went to Robin's side. “He wrote a note, too,” she warned him, and as she saw a solid
oh, no
in Jules's eyes, she nodded. It was bad.

“Apparently, we're making a mockery of the sanctity of marriage.” Robin laughed. “Jesus. This is the man who's filed for divorce seven times due to ‘irreconcilable differences'—which translates into him wanting to have sex with someone else. Then he gets married again—until he gets bored and divorces
her.
Which he can do easily, since he always makes them sign a prenup.” He shook his head, talking now to Jules. “We shouldn't have invited him. I knew he'd do something like this.”

But he'd hoped otherwise.

Robin turned back to Will. “Why don't you write one of your columns on the fact that Jules and I don't have a prenup? He wanted to, but I refused. You can tell everyone that I'm marrying him because I love him, because I
want
to share my life with him. And it's only fair that he gets to share the good stuff, since he's also forced to endure
this
kind of bullshit that I bring with me to the table.”

Jules gently took the response card out of Robin's hand and tore it in half. “We don't need this.”

Dolphina leaped forward to take it from him, and he smiled his thanks even though his eyes were sad.

“May I state for the record,” Robin still had more to say, and Dolphina crossed her fingers, hoping that he remembered this really
was
on the record, “that in just a few weeks' time, I'm marrying this man because I want to be with him
forever.
” He looked at Jules. “We do this, and I'm never letting you go. This is not some two-year experiment, a la Dad. This is it. We make it work. Even when bad shit happens—we don't quit.
I'm
not going to quit.”

“I'm not either,” Jules said evenly. “I'm in this forever, too.”

And there they stood. Looking at each other, gazes locked. Dolphina wasn't sure what Jules silently said to Robin in that moment, but whatever it was, it took the edge off his anger. Which maybe wasn't such a good thing, at least not with an audience, because without it, Robin couldn't hide his hurt.

“Come here,” Jules said as he pulled Robin with him toward the privacy of the office. “This note from your father…it's really just…terribly sad. He's obviously tried so hard to find happiness. But it always escapes him because he still doesn't have the slightest clue what love really is.”

“I know that,” Robin said. “I do. It's just…You have such a great family, babe. All I've got is Janey. And Cos, and his mom, sure, but…”

“Well, now you've got me, too.” As Jules closed the door behind them, Dolphina heard him say, “And you
know
that my mother adores you.”

She could hear the halting murmur of Robin's voice in reply as she turned to Will. “Let's get some coffee.” In the kitchen. Way on the other side of the house.

He nodded. “Okay.”

He followed her in silence, watching as she tossed the torn-up response from Robin's father in the kitchen trash. She could tell he wanted to see it, but he managed to restrain himself from diving in after it. In fact, he didn't even move from where he'd propped himself against the far counter.

“Coffee's self-serve,” Dolphina said. Best to teach him the house rules now. “Mugs are in here. Sugar's over here, if you need it. Milk's in the fridge.”

“Thanks.”

She glanced at him as he came to her side of the kitchen, waiting while she poured her own mug of coffee.

“I'm sorry,” Will said, “that I, um, made that more stressful for you.”

She looked at him again, this time letting him catch and hold her gaze. He wasn't kidding. He was truly apologetic.

He smiled slightly. “That must've sucked—opening the mail to find that?”

Dolphina nodded. She wasn't sure what kind of reaction she'd imagined Robin would have. And all she could think now was
thank God Jules had been home.

Will was thinking along the same lines. “He's really good for Robin, isn't he?” he said. “Jules.”

“Yes, he is.”

He broke their eye contact, looking down into his empty mug. “When I got married, I thought it would be forever. She, um, had other ideas about what marriage meant.”

He looked back at her, and now it was Dolphina who couldn't meet his gaze. “Maggie told me about your divorce.”

Will laughed. “Of course she did. Did she tell you…?” He answered his own question. “All the gory details. She is so dead.”

“What's so awful about the truth?” Dolphina asked, unable to keep from laughing, too, at his mock outrage. “You were the injured party.”

His smile faded, and for the briefest moment, she saw something uncertain in his eyes. In that instant, he seemed vulnerable, and about ten years younger. “I was the fool.” He said it quietly but absolutely, and something twisted in her stomach.

Because she knew exactly how he felt. And yet, she felt compelled to disagree. “For believing in forever?” she asked him.

“Do you honestly think it's possible?” he countered.

“For Robin and Jules?” Dolphina asked. “Absolutely. In fifty years, I am going to be organizing their golden anniversary party.” She finally relinquished the coffee pot, giving him space to pour.

He laughed. “If you survive whatever catastrophe the rest of today brings.”

Dolphina shot him a look. “It's not always so dramatic around here.”

Apparently, Will, too, drank his coffee black. He continued to gaze at her as he took a sip. “Why don't I believe that?”

“How
is
Maggie?”

“Changing the subject,” he mused. “All right. She's great. In fact, she wants to know if you want to have dinner with us. Maybe some time this week.”

Maggie
wanted to have dinner. Dolphina gazed back at Will. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Oh, come on—”

“I actually try to relax during dinner,” Dolphina informed him. “To be honest, when I'm around you, I'm…on my guard.”

She'd obviously surprised him. “It'd be off the record.”

She shot him a disbelieving look. “And if something I say during dinner shows up in one of your columns…? Which it will. Then I'll be furious and this truce we've managed to form will be over, and the next few weeks will be a living hell. For both of us.”

He nodded, because he knew she was right. “Have I mentioned how much I hate this assignment?”

“Friday,” she said. “On the phone. Yes.” He'd gone into some detail, in fact.

“I hate it even more today.” Will snorted. “I can't
wait
to see what tomorrow brings.”

“Next topic,” she said, putting her mug down on the center island, and pulling over a pad and pen she'd set out in anticipation of this discussion. She'd jotted down a short list of matters to discuss, and she quickly reviewed them now. “I'd like to read your columns in advance of your submitting them.”

“Read?” he asked. “Or censor?”

“Read,” she repeated. “Fact check.”

No way.
She could see it clearly in his eyes as he pretended to consider it, gazing into his coffee. “No, but thank you,” he said, as if she'd offered to do him a favor. It was remarkably diplomatic. “I'll check my own facts. I've already handed in today's piece—it's a reworking of my original article. I managed to squeeze two days out of it, so I'm good until Wednesday.”

Dolphina didn't try to argue. She just crossed it off her list. “Next topic. If you give me a list of possible subjects for future columns, I can help—”