After the Party (13 page)

Which wasn’t exactly the same as everything being right. But could it be? He couldn’t think straight. Hell, he was having trouble breathing. And that was before Elliot looked at him and asked, “What are you doing here?”

This time when Chase’s heart squeezed it had nothing to do with soft emotions or the woman inspiring them.

“You were going to send a car for Ella. I offered to bring her out for your meeting instead.”

Please remember. Please remember. Please remember.
Chase begged silently. It was a small consolation when he got his wish, because part of him knew the day could be coming when Elliot would not recognize his own family.

“Yes. Of course you did. And I know why,” Elliot added slyly with a meaningful bob of his shaggy eyebrows. “She’s a pretty thing. If I were a couple decades younger, I’d give you a run for your money, my boy.”

Whereas a moment ago Elliot was totally clueless, suddenly he was aware of everything, including romantic undercurrents.

“Don’t count yourself out, Elliot.” Ella’s mouth curved with a smile. “There’s something to be said for a mature man.”

“Oh, you’ll have to watch yourself with this one, Chase. If you’re not smart, she’ll get away.”

* * *

Actually, Chase would be the one to do the leaving, Ella thought. Maybe not soon, but eventually. He’d told her as much. His life was in California. And as much as he loved Elliot, he’d left Manhattan once before. He didn’t want to come between his uncle and Owen. As he’d told her one night as they’d lain in bed after making love, he felt that his very presence here ensured their relationship remained strained. Ella was pretty sure no amount of distance would make a difference. For whatever reason, Elliot saw only his son’s faults and his nephew’s attributes. But she’d kept that to herself.

“Let’s go into my study. I’m eager to see what sort of headway you’ve made on the arrangements, Ella.”

The cartoons were forgotten. He was the Elliot of old when he hopped to his feet.

His study was twice as large as the office he kept in Manhattan. Its size wasn’t the only difference. This space was as cluttered as the other was clean. There were no bows to whimsy here. It did not have a race track or a candy dispenser or an ice cream sundae station. From the articles she’d read, Ella knew this was where Elliot actually worked.

“It’s a little...cluttered,” Chase murmured. “I don’t know how he gets anything done in here, but I gave up trying to persuade him to organize years ago.”

Ella glanced around at the piles of papers, drawings and prototypes that were in various stages of development. She wasn’t as bothered by it as Chase apparently was.

“One man’s clutter is another man’s creative process,” she said.

“I guess so,” he said.

She gingerly picked her way over to the leather sofa, pushed a pile of papers to one side and sat down. She decided to get right down to business.

“Here’s what I’m thinking for food. The invitation says dinner will be served at six, but we opted not to have the meal plated and brought to the table. And a single buffet line, or even a few—” as had been one of Chase’s suggestions “—would be a nightmare.

“I want to do different buffet-style stations and have them set up around the grounds. The stations would serve different ethnic foods—Mexican at one, Chinese at another, and so on.”

“How many?” Chase asked.

“Seven in all.” She glanced at her notes and rattled off the other ethnicities she wanted to include. “Any of these can be substituted, of course.”

“I like the idea. I like it a lot,” Elliot told her.

She glanced at Chase, who was studying her thoughtfully. “I do, too.”

She heaved a silent sigh of relief. “Terrific. As for dessert, I’d like to do the same. Not necessarily different ethnic sweets, but different stations. One can be for cake. Another to create ice cream sundaes. Pie.”

“Crepes?” Elliot asked hopefully.

“It’s your party,” Ella replied on a grin, and made a note of it.

Twenty minutes later, when Dermott announced that lunch was ready, they had a preliminary menu decided. Now they only had to determine where everything, including a photo booth, disc jockey and a dance floor, would be set up.

Elliot’s wake at the estate he’d long ago dubbed The Big Top was indeed turning into a three-ring circus.

After a light lunch of smoked turkey, provolone cheese and baby arugula on flatbread, they headed outside. Ella had gotten a glimpse of the grounds on their drive in. But with her attention on the carnival rides, she hadn’t appreciated the massive home’s architecture, which included gambrel roofs, and beautiful stonework.

Nor was she prepared for the lush gardens that edged the perimeter of the grounds. Shrubs and topiaries groomed into the shapes of various circus animals roamed amid blooms that perfumed the air.

Ella was far from an expert in horticulture, so she asked Chase, “Do you know what plants will still be in bloom next month?”

“No, but Dermott will. Why?”

“We might want to in-fill with annuals to punch up the color if nothing is flowering.”

He blinked, nodded. “Excellent idea.”

The ground was nice and level, but it was going to be difficult to put up tents amid the rides. Farther from the house, Ella spied tennis courts.

She pointed to them. “I think we should put the tents there. What do you think?”

“It was going to be my suggestion, actually. The courts are due to be resurfaced soon anyway.”

“Do you play, Ella?” Elliot asked.

“Nah.” On a laugh, she admitted, “I never cared for the outfits. Same for golf.”

“Chase plays.”

He shrugged. “Not much these days, but when I was a kid I used to hit the ball around every now and then.”

“Don’t let Chase fool you. He was a natural,” Elliot recounted fondly. “Owen, too. Even though my son was younger, he had a powerful backswing. They were evenly matched. In the summer when they were boys, I used to send them out with their rackets and a sleeve of balls. They’d be out there for hours.”

“Our arms would be rubber afterward.”

“It was a good way for the two of you to settle your grievances without coming to blows.”

“Is that why you did it?” Chase asked, his tone infused with surprise.

“Of course. The two of you bickered so much otherwise,” Elliot replied on a shrug. “Sometimes I thought you might kill each other. The rivalry, especially on Owen’s end.”

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

Elliot’s eyes were clear, if focused on the past. “I noticed. If I have one regret it’s that I contributed to it. I wanted Owen to look up to you, to be more like you. He’s always been as smart as a whip, but he lacked your drive and discipline. He’s always seen running Trumbull Toys as his birthright rather than a position that needs to be earned. I’m afraid he still does,” Elliot said before changing the subject. “Where shall we set up those dessert stations you were telling me about, Ella?”

An hour later, her tour of the grounds almost done, they stood beside the heated, Olympic-size swimming pool.

“This is going to be the dance floor,” Ella announced.

“Water ballet?”

Both sides of Chase’s mouth crooked up in a smile. He did that a lot lately, smiled in full. She wondered if he realized it, if others realized it. Surely she couldn’t be the only one to notice the change.

“Very funny. I’m going to have it covered. It’s too large and its location too central to work around. A customized platform going over it will accomplish two things. First, it will make this usable space. And second, it will remove a safety hazard.”

“Good thinking,” Elliot said.

“The disc jockey can set up in front of the pool house,” Chase said.

“Exactly my thought,” she agreed.

By the time they returned inside, Ella had sketched out where everything would be, including the unsightly portable bathrooms, which she planned to tuck behind a temporary row of potted, six feet tall arborvitae that she would get from a nursery.

“It’s been a very productive day,” she said as they walked back through the house.

Elliot nodded. “Now we just have to decide on the food.”

Both Chase and Ella stopped walking.

“We decided on the food, Uncle Elliot.”

“Seven stations that will serve different kinds of ethnic specialties,” Ella supplied.

Elliot scratched his head. “I don’t recall. But last week was a blur. We were so busy with meetings. Weren’t we, Chase?”

Neither Chase nor Ella pointed out that the decision had been made just that morning. Doing so seemed pointless, borderline cruel.

“You’ve been working a lot, Elliot. Those long hours can be hard on your health.”

He waved off her concern. “I’m fit as a fiddle, thanks to all of those walks in the park. Nothing like a brisk walk to improve a man’s vital functions.”

“You should let your doctor determine that.” She sent Chase a meaningful glance.

“I’m due for my yearly physical. I can make an appointment for you, as well,” he offered.

Elliot became agitated. “No. No. You know how I feel about doctors.”

“Uncle—”

That was as far as Chase got before Elliot changed the subject, “Can you stay for dinner? Dermott is making chicken wings in his trademark hot sauce.”

“Sorry, Elliot. I can’t.”

“Ella has a barbecue,” Chase said.

“Darn. You’d like those wings. Another time?”

“Definitely,” she told him.

Elliot turned to Chase. “I suppose that means you can’t stay either since you’ll be going with her.”

He would be driving her. As for attending the barbecue, they’d never settled that question.

Ella raised her brows in challenge. “Are you?”

Chase didn’t hesitate. “I am.”

ELEVEN

“He’s getting worse,”
Ella said as soon as they left Elliot’s house. “It’s been just over a month since I met him and I see a marked decline in his short-term memory. He didn’t even recall our conversation about the menu.”

Beside her in the car, Chase nodded grim-faced, but he said nothing.

“He needs to be seen by a doctor,” she stressed again. “Even if what you’re dealing with is the worst-case scenario—” and by that she meant Alzheimer’s, though she couldn’t bring herself to say the word out loud “—there are medications that might help slow the disease’s progress.”

“I know, but if he doesn’t want to go, I can’t make him.” Chase sighed heavily. “He’s a grown man, Ella. It’s not as if I have medical power of attorney or guardianship and can call the shots for him.”

Two things Chase apparently had considered.

“What about Owen? Can you enlist his help?”

“I think Owen is more concerned with staying in the board’s good graces than anything else.”

“He must realize how serious this is.”

“He does, which is why he agrees with those board members who want Elliot removed.” Chase shook his head. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe they all are. If Elliot continues to decline...”

“All the more reason for you to make your uncle see reason and get to the doctor.”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Frustration sharpened his tone. “I’ve tried. In the past week alone, I’ve consulted some of the best specialists in the country, but Elliot refuses to cooperate and until he does, my hands are tied.”

Chase had a point, but Ella was determined. Where there was a will...

“Trick him,” she said.

“What?”

“Use his confusion to your advantage. Tell him you’re going to lunch or to a movie or for a walk in the park, since he is so fond of those, and then take him to see a specialist. Insist on a full battery of tests once you’re there.”

“I can’t—”

“You can,” she said firmly. “For his sake, Chase, you need to stop burying your head in the sand and take action.”

The car left the road amid a squeal of tires, fishtailing briefly on the gravel shoulder.

“Let’s get something straight!” Chase shouted as soon as they came to a stop. “I’m not burying my head in the sand. I know my uncle is not well. I know he’s getting worse. I know, dammit!”

He thumped the steering wheel with his fist for emphasis. Gone was the man who was always in control. In his place sat someone who was frustrated and frightened and at a loss for how to proceed. Someone Ella understood perfectly and could sympathize with, since she’d walked in similar shoes, although hers had sported four-inch heels and a hefty designer price tag.

She placed a hand over one of his fists, accepting his rage, since, ultimately, it wasn’t directed at her.

“It’s okay to be angry and scared.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. Anyone would be.”

“He’s all I have,” Chase said quietly.

“Then you need to get him help.”

He turned, eyes bright, gaze searching. She waited, sure he was about to say something important. In the end, he rested his forehead against hers but said nothing at all.

* * *

The barbecue was well under way when they arrived at Sandra’s parents’ home. Ella wasn’t sure Chase would stay, despite what he’d said at his uncle’s house. She would understand, too. He had a lot on his plate emotionally. He might not be up to attending a party where he likely knew no one and would be forced to make small talk.

But he gave his car keys to the valet without any hesitation. As they walked around to the backyard where the festivities were in full swing, he took Ella’s hand. The glance that accompanied his gesture seemed almost like a dare, or a challenge to her earlier claim that they weren’t a proper couple. Ella’s heart bumped unsteadily, the telltale cadence at odds with what her head kept insisting about the impermanence of their relationship.

She hadn’t been looking for a man, much less one she could easily lose her heart to if she weren’t careful. She’d been after a job, self-sufficiency, a fresh start. She’d eschewed Madame Maroushka’s premonition that she would meet a tall, handsome, fair-haired stranger. Even after she’d encountered Chase and sexual sparks had begun to fly, Ella had considered the romance blooming between them a lovely, if fleeting, bonus. She’d been doing her damnedest not to confuse it with true love and happily ever after.

If there was one thing her mother’s premature death and her father’s fall from grace had made clear, it was that Ella couldn’t rely on others for her happiness. It was up to her to find contentment when and where she could, and she had. Still, she could admit that something had been missing.

Someone.

Chase squeezed her hand and she knew exactly what and who. For all of their differences, they did have a surprising amount in common. The longer she knew him, the more things she discovered they shared. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Especially since she knew he wasn’t looking for a relationship any more than she had been. He was passing through. Other than his uncle’s presence here, everything about New York was temporary for Chase, from the penthouse he was subleasing to the office at the Trumbull headquarters.

“Ella! Chase! Over here.”

Across the crowded lawn, Sandra, flanked by her boyfriend and her mother, was waving her arms. She would have been impossible to miss anyway. She was wearing a bright orange sundress, the color the perfect complement to her dark hair, making Ella feel a bit boring in the turquoise dress she had on, despite the sparkly silver belt that rode low on her waist. As Ella drew closer, however, it was her friend’s footwear that she envied. The wedge espadrilles were a much wiser choice than Ella’s high pumps, whose spike heels were already sinking into the grass.

“Hi, Sandra.”

“I expected you earlier. Is everything...all right?”

That depended on one’s definition, Ella thought wryly. Between Elliot’s precarious mental state and her deepening feelings for Chase, spike heels weren’t the only reason for Ella’s shaky balance. But she told her friend, “Yes. Everything is fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to worry. The meeting with Chase’s uncle ran a little longer than I expected.”

“Well, I’m glad you could make it.
Both
of you,” she said meaningfully, before introducing Chase to her mother.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Mrs. Chesterfield said, taking Chase’s hand in both of hers.

“Thank you for having me. Ella tells me that you do this every year to raise funds for diabetes research.”

“Yes.” The older woman’s lips pursed momentarily. “It’s a nasty disease. A cure is long overdue.”

“Agreed. I forgot my checkbook, but I want to make a personal donation to the cause, one that Trumbull Toys will gladly match.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mrs. Chesterfield clapped her hands together. “Thank you.”

“That reminds me,” Ella said, pulling a check from her purse. When she handed it to Sandra’s mother, the older woman gasped at the amount, which admittedly was significant, especially for Ella. “Ella, dear. My goodness! This is very generous. Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. I haven’t been able to contribute anything the past couple of years.”

Mrs. Chesterfield waved one elegant hand. “You know that doesn’t matter to us.”

“I know.” But it mattered to Ella. She’d vowed to herself that once she’d gotten back into the black financially, she would make up for the lean years. “I’m gainfully employed now.”

“Yes, you are.” The older woman beamed proudly. “How is the planning for Chase’s uncle’s party coming, Ella?”

“I’m making headway. I have a lot to learn and not a lot of time to learn it,” she admitted before she could think better of it.

She glanced at Chase. He appeared to be taking her confession in stride.

In fact, he said, “Ella may not have much experience, but she is doing an amazing job.”

Did she detect a hint of surprise?

“Oh, I have no doubt of that.” Sandra’s mother smiled fondly and gave Ella’s arm a squeeze. “She has always been a very resourceful young woman.”

“It helps that I’ve been to a lot of really great parties over the years, including this one.” Ella smiled.

“Next year, you’re not only going to be attending this party, Ella, you’ll be handling the plans for it,” Sandra said. “Isn’t that so, Mom?”

“It is. I can’t think of anyone I would trust more.”

Ella was speechless. Sandra had made the claim before, but this was the first time Ella had heard it from what she considered the voice of authority.

“Mrs. Chesterfield, I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes, will do.”

“Yes! It will be my privilege.”

“A privilege for which you will be paid. Oh, and that reminds me. Sandra mentioned that you were looking for a reputable company that rents tents, tables and chairs. I have the number for the one we use every year. We’ve never had reason to complain. They always set up and break down on time.”

“Great! Thanks.”

“And I’ve jotted down some other resources you might want to consider for that job or others. Caterers, disc jockeys, bands and the like. Let’s go into the house—”

“Oh, no. Later is fine. Really. I don’t want to take you away from your guests.”

“It’s no trouble. Besides, later I won’t remember my name much less where I put my notes,” the older woman added on a laugh. She tucked her arm through Ella’s. “You don’t mind, do you, Chase? I’ll bring her right back. I promise.”

“Not at all.”

“Cole and I will keep him company while you’re gone,” Sandra said.

* * *

As Chase watched Ella walk away, the guilt he’d been keeping at bay rushed in for a vicious attack. She was amazing. At his uncle’s house, her instincts had proved spot-on time and again. On her own, she’d reached many of the same conclusions the veteran planner he’d hired behind Ella’s back had shared. And, she’d proved far more creative. Sandra’s mother’s vote of confidence only made him feel even worse for doubting Ella.

“You look like you need a drink, Chase,” Cole said.

What he needed was to come clean, but when? How?

“I can recommend the daiquiris. They’re excellent.” Sandra took a sip of the one in her hand. The glass included a skewer full of fruit and a dainty paper umbrella.

“The beer is ice cold,” Cole supplied on a chuckle as he nodded to his bottle.

“Sounds good.”

Sandra rolled her eyes before saying, “I’ll be right back.” She got even by handing her fru-fru drink to her boyfriend. “Hold this and keep Chase company.”

While she was gone, another couple stopped to talk to Cole. The man was tall, athletic, with a smile that belonged in an advertisement for teeth whitening. The woman was classically pretty and reed-thin. Her honey-blond hair was stick straight and pulled back from her oval face by a ribbon headband. She wore canvas sneakers, khaki walking shorts, a pink sweater set, pearls and an air of superiority.

Her clothing and accessories were prep-school chic, exactly the sort of outfit that complemented her boyfriend’s tame attire. Until recently, Chase had been a fan of the look. Lately, however, he’d grown fond of animal prints, bright colors and dangerously high heels.

It wasn’t until Cole made the introduction that Chase realized who they were: Bradley and Bernadette. Ella’s ex and ex-stepsister. God help him. There was no way to make a graceful escape now. He thought longingly about the beer Sandra had gone to fetch. What he would give to have it in hand since he had a bad feeling he would need it to get through the next several minutes, especially if Ella returned.

It wasn’t like Chase to draw comparisons, but he couldn’t help doing so. And he didn’t like what he concluded. He seemed an awful lot like Bradley. They probably employed the same tailor, visited the same barber. Hell, they probably had the same handicap in golf. Was that why Chase appealed to her? A replacement for the man who’d dumped her? Ella had claimed that she was over Bradley, that it had never been as serious on her side as it had seemed to be on his. That while everyone else had been sure they’d been heading to “I do,” she’d never shared their certainty. But...Suddenly, the very casualness with which she approached her relationship with Chase began to chafe.

As for Bernadette, she was nothing like Ella. They were polar opposites in fact, not only in the way they dressed and wore their hair, but how they comported themselves. Ella was vivacious, gregarious, an extravert. Bernadette, meanwhile, whose mere posture oozed self-importance, came across as not only conceited, but decidedly dull.

“This is Chase Trumbull,” Cole said, completing the introduction.

Bradley took the name in stride, shaking Chase’s hand. Meanwhile, his fiancée’s eyes lit up like twin Christmas trees.

“Chase Trumbull,” she repeated slowly. “My mother mentioned running in to you not long ago at The Colton. You were having dinner with my stepsister, Ella Sanborn. Mother said you had hired Ella to plan a party. I hope you got your money back.”

Droll laughter followed.

“Money’s worth, you mean,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I think you meant to say, you hoped I got my money’s
worth.
And, yes, I did. Ella did an outstanding job. Several of my guests asked for her card.”

Okay, only one and it was Elliot, but the white lie was warranted.

“I’m glad for Ella,” Bradley put in. “She’s had a rough time of it.”

Despite his defense, maybe even because of it, Chase wanted to plow his fist into the guy’s face. After all, part of Ella’s rough time could be laid at the toes of the man’s shiny penny loafers.

“Bradley!” Bernadette gasped.

“Bradley’s right. It’s not her fault that her father’s name got dragged through the mud,” Cole added. He had drained his beer during the exchange and was now sipping from Sandra’s daiquiri.

“My stepsister is hardly a charity case.”

“Ella’s no charity case, I agree. But I have to correct you on another matter.” And by correct, Chase meant put Bernadette in her place. “Ella is no longer your stepsister.”

Bernadette’s eyes narrowed but she rallied quickly. “That’s right. And, thank God. You know who her father is, right?”