“Plus, your grandmother made you.”
“She wanted me to make sure we repaired our relationship. The decision to invite you to dinner was mine.” He cleared his throat. “I do want to apologize again for what I said.”
“I wish you wouldn’t. You were wrong. I personally get to revel in your wrongness and now you’re buying me a nice dinner. It’s fine. You can stop apologizing.”
“You’re very straightforward.”
“No more than most women I know.” She flashed him a smile. “I suspect it’s an American thing. We’re not really into subtle.”
“I admire your sensibilities.” And other things about her, he thought, doing his best not to let his gaze stray to the edge of her breasts exposed by the vee of her dress. “And your graciousness, under the circumstances.”
“So what happened?” she asked. “How did I get to be the bad guy?”
He explained about the household inventory and the mysterious packages, carefully leaving out any mention of his grandmother’s secretary. While he doubted the other woman had been trying to trap him into falling in love with her, she’d acted against his grandmother’s best wishes and that was unforgivable.
When he’d finished, Violet opened her mouth, then closed it. “You take an inventory?” She held up her hand. “I’m sorry. Of course you have to. The house is like a million years old and there are beautiful things everywhere. It’s just so different from anything I’ve experienced. My bonding story is I check to see if I need paper towels before I go to the grocery store. Other than that, I live my personal life inventory free. I do inventory my buttons, but that’s different.”
“I check for paper towels, as well. We have so much in common.”
She laughed, as he’d hoped she would. The clear, happy sound tugged at something deep inside of him. A dark, lonely place that had avoided the light of day for too long.
“Your grandmother is lucky to have you,” she said.
“I’m lucky, as well. She’s my entire family. I would do anything for her.”
Their server came to take their drink orders. Violet ordered a cosmopolitan while he chose a single malt Scotch.
“I’m sorry about your father,” Violet said when their server had left. “Your grandmother told me she was devastated by the loss. You must have been, as well.”
“I was. He’d been ill for a while, but one never expects the end when it happens. I’d been training for the job for years, but still found it difficult to be half as excellent as he had been.”
“I doubt that.” She smiled at him. “You’re very good at what you do.”
If only they were talking about sex, but they weren’t. At least she wasn’t. “You have no way of knowing that.”
“Your grandmother tells me things in her letters. She worried that the responsibility was too much for you.” She hesitated. “She was afraid it was impacting your marriage.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not prying or asking, I’m just sharing.”
“My father’s death was hard on everyone, but not the reason for my divorce.” If only it had been—the blame would have been easier to deal with. As it was, he’d never been sure what he was supposed to say.
She reached for her small handbag and pulled out a thick piece of paper. “I want to show you something, although now that I think about it, I should probably have waited for you to have your cocktail first.” She smiled. “You know, to dull the edges.”
“Now I’m curious.”
She turned over the paper and he saw it was a photograph of a young woman standing in front of Battenberg Park. She had frizzy red hair, blotchy skin and the gawky, awkward stance of someone not comfortable in her own skin. Braces showed through her tentative smile. She was, by all definitions, not pretty, and he had absolutely no recollection of her.
“This is you?”
She nodded. “During my unfortunate phase. I was fourteen.”
“You were lovely.”
“More lies. Shame on you.” She took back the picture. “My mother and I attended a summer party at your house. To my mind, it was nearly a ball. You danced with me and kissed me on the cheek, then whispered that one day I would be a beauty.” She glanced at him, then away. “You were very charming and that night I fell madly in love with you...in a very shallow, young teen sort of way.”
He was torn between being pleased he’d acted in a way that would have made his father proud of him and regret that even her words couldn’t produce a memory. There had been many parties in the summer, many young ladies with whom he’d danced.
“I was right,” he said instead. “About you growing into a beauty. I’m nearly always right.”
She laughed. Their server returned with their drinks and they touched them together in a toast.
“Where are you staying?” she asked when she’d taken a sip of her cosmopolitan.
“The Sweet Dreams Inn.” He did his best not to shudder. “I’m in the Drive-in Room. My bed is an old Cadillac and my television is the size of a drive-in screen.”
“The Pride and Prejudice room wasn’t available?”
“I didn’t ask. And please, do not compare me to Mr. Darcy.”
“Does it happen too much or do you dislike falling short?”
He held in a smile. “You’re very hard on me.”
“I think you’ve earned it, but as it’s obviously too much for you, I’ll stop now.”
“You’re so generous.”
“I know.” She sighed. “It’s a burden.” She leaned toward him. “What do you know about our town?”
“This one?” He looked around at the restaurant. “It caters to weddings, which seems strange. But from the little I’ve read, it’s a wedding destination town.”
“It is. In the 1950s, the town was dying. Seriously, there was no industry and people were leaving. The man who owned the main bank, a man with seven daughters, by the way, knew that if the town died, he would lose everything, so he decided to take a really big gamble. He started telling a story about how the town was founded. That during the Gold Rush, a stagecoach full of mail-order brides, destined for the gold fields, was stranded in town. By the time the parts arrived to fix their stagecoach, they’d all fallen madly in love and made their homes here. Everyone liked the story, the name of the town was changed and the rest is history.”
He’d heard a few things about the town’s past, but hadn’t paid much attention. “None of it is real? He made up the past completely?”
“Every word. A couple of big name stars got married here and ever since, we’ve been a wedding destination town. There’s a sleep center outside of town and a handful of businesses that don’t support the wedding industry, but the rest of us live in service of brides.”
“You know there is generally a groom when there’s a marriage.”
She waved her hand. “No one cares about him. It’s the bride’s day. Oh, you could do theme weddings at Battenberg Park. Something with a Pride and Prejudice flair.”
He groaned. “Stop, I beg you. Why are American women mesmerized with that book?”
Second Chance Girl (Happily Inc. #2)
Susan Mallery's books
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- Just One Kiss
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- Only Mine (Fool's Gold #4)
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- Only Us (Fool's Gold #6.1)
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