Taste for Trouble (35 page)
He
had no idea how she did that. He himself felt wrinkled, rumpled and completely,
bonelessly satisfied. But there she was, fresh, pressed and glowing like some
kind of tidy flower.
He
didn’t know if he’d ever loved her more.
“Hey,
Bel?”
“Yes?”
She gave him those wide, dark eyes, her hands folded primly together in front
of her skirt.
“You’re
really something else, you know that?”
She
smiled at him, full speed ahead on the dimples and his heart did one of those
Grinch things where it grew about three unexpected sizes. He wanted to say more
but just then a couple strolled through a break in the hedge circle. Bel gave
them a polite nod and James offered her his elbow. She took it and they began
their own slow circuit around the fountain, as if they were seeing it for the
first time.
“So,”
Bel said. “You wanted to talk to me?”
A
guilty start rolled through him. “Oh, hell. Yeah, I did.”
He
stopped, took both her hands. “Listen, Bel, there’s a person here tonight, and
you’re not going to like hearing who it is.”
“All
right.” Her eyes went wide and wary. “Who?”
“But
I’m not going to leave your side for a second, so everything will be fine.”
“Thank
you,” she said. “But who is it?”
“Just
do that stiff upper lip thing you’re so good at and we’ll get through this no
problem.”
“James.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Who?”
He
sighed and wished Ford the ex-fiancé to the depths of the ocean with all his
heart. Because, come on. He and Bel had just taken their first, tentative steps
toward a future together. Okay, so maybe mind-blowing sex in the great outdoors
wasn’t exactly tentative but it
was
a step in the right direction. A big
one. Was it too much to ask that the guy Bel had almost married not crash the
moment?
He
pulled in a deep breath but before he could force himself to spit out the name,
a new voice soared through the night air. It was sweet and clear, like a small,
expensive bell and it said, “Belinda! Darling! I came as soon as I heard!”
James
watched the animation drop out of Bel’s face like somebody had switched off a
light inside her. She turned slowly to face a tiny woman in violet silk flying
over the path toward her with quick, graceful steps—not a run exactly but
certainly faster than walking. The woman threw herself at Bel and squeezed her
with frantic hands. “Oh my darling, my dearest. My poor, poor lamb. Don’t
worry, dear heart.”
Bel’s
hands stayed at her sides, curled loosely into the fabric of her skirt though
her spine was as rigid as a two by four. The woman didn’t seem to notice, just clasped
Bel to her corseted bosom, rocked her side to side and crooned, “Mummy’s here,
now, darling. Mummy’s here.”
Bel’s
eyes met his over her mother’s head, a stark question in them.
You knew
?
James
shook his head quickly. God, no. But, geez, poor Bel. Her ex-fiancé and her
mom, with whom James knew she wasn’t exactly close, at the same party? His girl
was taking it on the chops tonight.
“Oh
sweetheart.” Bel’s mother drew back to gaze at her daughter. Her hands flew up
like tiny birds to pat Bel’s cheeks. “You’re so thin! Why didn’t you
call
me?”
James
stepped back, the better to watch the impromptu family reunion taking place
under his nose. He’d known Bel had a mother. He just had never pictured her
quite like this. She was a good head shorter than Bel, to begin with. And where
Bel exuded that quiet correctness that started with impeccable posture and
ended with imperturbable calm, her mother—so far—was all about the dramatic
flourish.
“Call
you?” Bel asked with the same tone she might use to inquire about the freshness
of a cabbage. “About what?”
“About
what
?” Her mother blinked in astonished horror, one little hand pressed
to her frilly bosom. “About
what
? Dear lord in heaven, Belinda! Your
faith in mankind was abused most cruelly. And on
live television
?” She
closed her eyes and shook her head. “I cannot
imagine
. But you—you poor,
poor
dear—you simply gritted your teeth and bore up under the
humiliation. My sad, strong,
darling
girl.”
She
clutched at Bel, trying, James supposed, to bend her into a sad, darling girl. He
smiled into his collar. Not exactly Bel’s style. He could see how Bel had
characterized their relationship as difficult.
Her
heart seemed to be in the right place, though. And she was here. That counted
for a lot in James’ book. The balance of family duty, as he knew from vast
experience, lay in simply showing up. Just being there through it all, whether
your presence was wanted or not. Nobody with family—any decent family anyway—suffered
alone. It simply wasn’t allowed. Your family sat there with you in your misery,
propping you up, renting DVDs, serving snacks and making bad jokes until you
were ready to venture out again on your own wobbly legs, blinking against the
sunlight.
Bel
disentangled herself from her mother’s arms and stepped back just as Bob and
Kate strolled into the fountain enclosure. Kate, one hand threaded through
Bob’s elbow, chatted easily with a gossip columnist from the Washington Post. But
her eyes landed sharply on Bel.
“Vivi,
please,” Bel said. “I didn’t call you because I didn’t want you here.”
Vivi?
James felt his eyebrows heading for the sky. She called her mother by her first
name?
“Didn’t
want—” Vivi pulled back as if she’d been slapped. Her round blue eyes filled
with hurt. “Why, Belinda, that’s an awful thing to say! I flew halfway around
the world to be with you and this is how you thank me?”
“I
didn’t want you here,” Bel said again, her voice flat, “and I still don’t. I
never will. Please go.”
James’
mouth dropped open. This wasn’t a difficult mother-daughter relationship. This
was rejection, flat out. Bob must have sensed the sour note from fifteen yards
off because he touched the back of Kate’s hand and murmured something in her
ear. Kate ignored him with her usual regal impatience, her eyes fixed and
fierce on Bel. The gossip columnist followed Kate’s gaze with the seeking focus
of a blood hound catching a scent.
Kate
didn’t break stride but continued toward them at the same serene stroll. Bob
didn’t fight it but his brows were a straight unhappy line. The columnist fingered
her cell phone furtively, probably cuing up the camera. James braced himself
for company in about thirty seconds, tops.
He
touched Bel’s stiff elbow and leaned in. “Gossip columnist,” he murmured. “On your
six.”
“Of
course there is.” She didn’t look away from her mother. “I don’t want you here,
Vivi. Please leave.”
James
stared, alarm shifting toward disbelief. What the hell? His Bel had a real gift
for polite displeasure, no denying that, but she wasn’t cruel. Farthest thing
from it. But giving your mom an unflinching
get lost
in front of the
national press? That was cruel. Unquestionably.
“Oh.”
Vivi’s eyes flooded with tears. “Oh. I see.”
James’
heart squeezed inside him and the fury he’d been saving up for Will’s punching
suddenly jumped the tracks. He knew real life had, at best, a vague
acquaintance with justice. He didn’t expect a Brady Bunch reunion here. But
this woman was Bel’s
family
. There was no greater good in James’ world—in
any world—than family. James would give anything to have his mother annoy him
at a party one more time. He’d be damned if he’d let Bel reject hers right in
front of him.
“Hi.”
He stepped forward and shot Vivi a warm smile. “I’m James Blake.”
“Vivienne
Pietrantoni.” She held out a tiny hand and returned his smile with a brave
curving of her lips. “Belinda’s mother.”
“Of
course you are.” James folded her hand gently into his. Geez, the woman felt
breakable. “I see now where Bel gets her dimples.”
Vivi’s
smile deepened. “Oh, you’re sweet.”
“They’re
gorgeous on both of you,” James told her, patting their joined hands. “I’m
always after Bel to smile more.”
Vivi’s
eyes went warm and her dimples fluttered. “I am, too.”
“Then
we ought to be good friends, Ms. Pietrantoni.”
“Vivi,”
she said, and hugged him. “Oh, you’re a kind man. I’m so pleased my little girl
has somebody like you. I worry about her, you know. She’s so...alone.”
James
cut his eyes to Bel, who simply gazed at them. And she did, in that moment,
look strikingly alone. A pale, composed woman who might have been watching a
movie for all the emotion in her face.
“Vivienne?”
Kate asked, appearing behind the woman’s shoulder. She beamed her on-camera
smile down at Bel’s mom. “Kate Davis. I’m so pleased to finally meet you.” She
turned to Bel. “Bel, dear. Why didn’t you tell me your mother would be
attending tonight?”
“I
had no idea she would be,” Bel said. She gathered her skirts. “If you’ll excuse
me?”
Vivienne’s
head drooped and Kate gave Bel a look of genteel disapproval. The columnist
hanging a few paces back snapped a surreptitious picture. James gritted his
teeth. “Bel, come on. It’s your
mom
, for heaven’s sake.”
She arched
a brow that said
so
? Anger leapt hot and jagged inside him.
“We’re
intruding,” Bob said. He took Kate’s elbow firmly. “We should—”
“Which
means—” James went on as if Bob hadn’t spoken, his voice carefully calm. “—that
no matter what the beef is between you two, you owe her at least a thank you.”
Bel
tipped her head, considered. “For what?”
“Well,
for her concern, for starters,” James snapped. “For the impulse that put her on
a jet from wherever—”
“Italy,”
Vivi said.
“—from
Italy to see for herself that her daughter, however difficult the relationship
between them might be, was all right.”
“No.”
Bel folded her hands in front of her, her face smooth, the erratic pulse in the
base of her throat the only sign of life.
“No?
No what?”
“No,
that’s not why she’s here, and no, I absolutely will not thank her for it.” She
gathered her skirt and moved around her mother as if she were a stone in the
road. “Go home, Vivi. There’s nothing for you here.”
Vivi
made a small squeak of distress that tore at James’ heart with sharp little
claws.
“Belinda,”
Kate murmured with a significant glance at the scribbling reporter. “You forget
yourself.”
“No,”
she said quietly. “I’ve finally remembered myself. But I do apologize for
creating a scene.” She turned empty eyes on her mother. “I sincerely wish it
hadn’t happened. Now if you’ll please excuse me.”
Vivi
began softly crying.
“We’ll
discuss this in the morning,” Kate told Bel in tones of dark promise. If Bel
picked up on the threat in those words she gave no indication. She simply inclined
her head.
“If
you like.” She moved toward the gap in the hedges with a fragile dignity that
had confusion twisting together with the snarling anger in James’ gut. She was
the one inflicting all the damage here. Why on earth should she look one stiff
breeze away from shattered?
He
lunged after her, closing the distance just as she reached the gap. “Jesus, Bel.”
He snatched at her elbow. “Would you stop for one stupid minute here and think
about what you’re doing?”
She
stopped, her back stiff and unrelenting. Then she turned her head, slowly,
until she’d aimed the point of her chin at him with the haughty grandeur of an
offended queen. “What,” she asked, “am I doing?”
“You’re
walking away from your
mother
.” His chest was tight with urgency. She
had to understand this. Because if she understood what she was doing, she
wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t. How could she? Surely her heart, the heart he
held as precious as his own, wouldn’t allow it. No heart worth loving—no heart
capable of loving—could. “Your
mother
, Bel.”
“That’s
right,” she said.
“No,
it’s
not
right.” Frustration and fear howled inside him. This was wrong.
She
was wrong. Bel was good, loving, forgiving and patient. This wasn’t
her. Not the Bel he knew. Not the Bel he thought he knew, anyway. “God, why are
you
being
like this?”
She gazed
at him with a cool finality that only stoked the anger burning in his belly. “I’m
leaving now,” she said. “We can discuss this in the morning, if you’d like.”
He stared
at her, waiting for this cold, stony woman to disappear. Waiting for her to
turn back into the Bel he’d fallen in love with, the Bel who understood what
family meant.
He thought
about his own mother, her quick smile, her strong, ready hug. The instant
application of the flat of her palm to the back of his head whenever she
considered it necessary. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t need
her. Didn’t miss her.