Gillian's Do-Over (23 page)

When Matt started to object, TJ added,
“She’s gotta be pushing eighty. And crotchety. Reminds me of my great-grandma. You’ll be safe with her.” He chortled. “At least I think so.”

Matt nodded. “I’ll tell Ursula you said so.”

“No need for that. She already knows the lady.” TJ’s laughter trailed after him as he walked out to his car.

Days later, Matt stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his hair, glad he looked better than when TJ had seen him the previous Thursday. Tuesday morning was bright and sunny. His recent haircut, long overdue, gave him a put-together look that he approved. His day was filled with appointments that had been delayed owing to Marnie’s last days, death and memorial service.

For the first time since Carl and Wes had left, h
e was honestly eager to get back in harness. Matt slipped on his suit jacket and straightened his tie. He walked downstairs and met Ursula as she unlocked the front door.

She beamed at him. “My, don’t you look nice today. Is that a new tie?”

“One I haven’t worn in a while.”

“I like it. The
gold stripes match those little flashes of color in your eyes.” She sat behind her desk and booted up her computer. “Ready to go at it hard today? Make up for lost time?”

Matt chuckled. “It feels
good to be working again. Who’s on first?”

“Not that joke
again.” She stared at the computer screen. “The insurance investigator about the fire at Jacobsons’ store. He asked for a nine o’clock.” She looked up. “And here he is, right on time.”

Matt scanned his notes and
greeted the stocky little man holding his hat in one hand, a briefcase in the other. “Mr. Lannihan. I’m sorry I had to put off our earlier appointment.”

Ursula
asked, “Coffee, gentlemen?”

“Please.”

Matt waited until his receptionist returned carrying a tray holding a coffee carafe, two cups and a small plate of cookies. She must have stopped at her favorite bakery on the way to work. He guessed they were newly-baked, from the fragrance filling his office.

“Thank you, Ursula.” Matt sipped his coffee in silence, waiting for the man to look up from
his snack.

An hour later, his first appointment of the day had concluded. He glanced at his schedule and saw, with a jolt to his nether regions, that Ursula had penciled in Gillian’s name. He gritted his teeth, determined not to react to her, not to let her know how he felt. How he wanted her. How he regretted hurting her feelings by his reaction in the park.

When the outer door opened to the tinkling bell he’d installed in case Ursula wasn’t available to take care of it, he stiffened in his chair. Ursula’s voice came through more clearly than the other voice.
Gillian’s voice.

“But, he’s expecting you. I’m sure he’ll want to discuss these changes with you.”

The other woman’s murmurs were too low for him to hear. Then Ursula knocked on the door and opened it.

Gillian
Griffiths entered slowly, bringing with her a light scent of lilacs and fresh air.
She doesn’t want to be here.
She was wearing a red vest over a charcoal gray blouse with puffy sleeves that unsuccessfully hid her curves, making Matt even more aware of his response to her presence. Her skirt had a design of red and black streaks and dots that reminded Matt of a Jackson Pollock painting. Its hem ended at her knees. When she sat, the skirt rode up slightly, calling attention to her legs.
Great legs. Great everything.

She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t even meeting his eyes.
He brushed his hand down the front of his tie as he sat, willing his groin to relax.
Fat chance of that happening.
Her actions at the park came back to him, cloaking him in heat so intense he slid a hand across his forehead, certain now that he was sweating bullets and it showed.

“Gillian.
” He croaked, coughed, and started again. “Ms. Griffiths, would you like a cup of coffee?”

She brushed a
curl behind one ear as she looked in Ursula’s direction. “Yes, that would be nice.”

Gillian took the cup of coffee Matt poured for her, trying hard to avoid looking at him. He wore a tie that seemed to call attention to his eyes, and a suit that screamed ‘
successful lawyer
.’ His navy-blue suit set off a snowy shirt. Unlike that day at the park, she detected no bags under his eyes, no sallowness to his clean-shaven cheeks. Matt seemed alert and ready for the appointment that had kept her up half the night, as she’d worried the bone that he might mention her impromptu hug, a hug that had whetted her appetite for more. And that kiss, a connection she couldn’t break, hadn’t wanted to break. But she couldn’t have him. He was her attorney, nothing more, still hurting so badly from his wife’s recent death. And he didn’t want her. In no uncertain terms. His words that day still pained her.

She
angled slightly in her chair and kept her eyes focused on the paper she had pulled from her purse as her pulse began to climb. Her words, admitted to Mo in the heat of her sobs, came back to her even as she regretted that Ursula had insisted she meet with Matt when all she’d wanted to do was hand over her notes, run out of his office and never return.

“
I knew you said you needed to make my will and the trust mesh—or something—and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about all that. I’ve decided I want to change my will completely.” She handed Matt the paper she’d been smoothing. “Here are my notes. I hope you haven’t wasted a lot of time trying to get what I had before to go with what I want to do now.”

“No.”

“Good.” A part of her ached to touch Matt, but she didn’t dare. He was her lawyer, not a friend, probably not even her in-the-park friend now. Especially not at this very moment. Maybe never again. But whenever she was in touching range of him, her brain started chanting messages decidedly not in the he’s-my-lawyer-be-professional-be-cool mode. His lips looked inviting, his eyes when he’d glanced at her a moment ago seemed warmer than before, but she couldn’t allow herself to imagine what it might be like to follow up another hug with a kiss. And more.

She
stood up then backed out of range and turned toward the door. “I guess I’ll wait to hear from you.”

Matt
came around his desk to open the door for her. Gillian scooted through.

“Yes
,” he said. “I’ll try to get back to you quickly.”

As she reviewed their meeting on the way home, she thought h
is voice sounded caring. At least she wanted to think so.

Chapter 1
5

G
illian looked up from her watercolor. How are you?”

“You left an intriguing message. I decided to
obtain clarification in person.”

She blushed. “Oh.” She patted the porch step next t
o where she was perched. “There’s nothing especially intriguing—your word—in my request. But I could use your help, if you’re willing. Especially after I unloaded on you the other day. Tears and all.”
As a friend, Mo, nothing more.
“I was hoping you might be willing to attend Quinn’s wedding rehearsal and dinner as my guest.”

“
I thought you said Quinn’s wedding was family only. Is this your way of saying you think I’m family now? Or are you just doing penance after … the tears and all?” He smirked. “In addition to turning me down for dinner and a movie last week?”

She was in
for it now. Deeply.
I should have said yes to him about that movie, especially when he kept assuring me he didn’t hold a grudge for my being interested in another man.
“Let’s just say that I would really appreciate you being there.”

The good doctor crossed his beefy arms over his chest, reminding her of a bull preening for his cows in the field. “Any particular reason
you picked
me
for this duty—instead of that other guy? The one you were weeping over? Or those online guys your neighbor mentioned a while back? I swear, Gillian. You have more male admirers than I’m comfortable thinking about.”

She chuckled
at his teasing. “Never mind about them.” She chose to ignore the little zings of awareness Matt—his name even unsaid—caused.

She set down her brush after swishing the color out of the soft bristles. “
I need someone to help me with the dinner, and I can’t ask Quinn. He’s got enough on his plate. The problem is—the bride’s parents happen to be divorced and—”

“Not happily
, I’m guessing.” Mo’s eyes twinkled. “You need someone to ride herd on one of them while you deal with the other? Keep them from killing each other?”

“
Bianca is scared to death her mother is going to try to take over and ruin everything. I was thinking the presence of a man, a man like you”—she wasn’t sure how Mo would view her saying she needed a man whose size alone was intimidating—“might keep things in check.”

“What you mean is you need a
man with
muscles
to scare them into behaving.” He gave her a slightly lopsided grin, his eyebrows waggling.

“If you want to put it that way.” She cleared her throat. “I
’ve enjoyed our dinners together. So I thought you might let me treat you to a meal, since I’m hosting the rehearsal dinner. Paying for it, too.”

“I thought the bride’s family did all that.”

“Old hat, Mo. Not the way it works these days. My son and his bride insisted on doing almost everything themselves. I managed to get them to agree to accept my help with the rehearsal dinner. Actually, I insisted.” She placed her hand on his forearm, aware of how small her fingers looked against his skin. “Will you please do me this favor? If it turns into a disaster, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Exactly h
ow do you plan to do that?” He brushed a finger over his mostly-white mustache and chuckled wickedly. “Or would you like me to offer a suggestion or two?”

Gillian hoped her
burning cheeks weren’t giving her away. “Let’s just get through this dinner and see how things go.”

“Oh
, no, you don’t.” He placed a hand on top of hers and squeezed. “I want to get this deal nailed down. You remind me of an eel, slippery, too hard to hook.”

“Not a pretty picture, Mo.”

“Maybe not, but if I’m going to have to bring some anesthetic-filled needles to calm down the crazy mother of the bride, I want more than a ‘maybe’ of another dinner with you. Or some other way to while away the time. How big is the father of the bride, the ex-husband?”

“I have no
idea. The picture Bianca has only showed his face. He’s mostly bald. Has a kind of fringe above his ears. That’s all I know. According to Quinn, Bianca’s mother is a piece of work.” Gillian air-quoted after sliding her hand from beneath Mo’s. “You have my promise. Another dinner on me if Trudi doesn’t behave.”

“Sealed with a kiss.” Mo pressed his shoulder against hers.

She angled her cheek in his direction.

“Not good enough, my dear.”

“We’re in public, Mo.” She cleared her throat, suddenly gone dry. “
Doctor
Shellenberg.”

“
We’re on your very own porch. Not exactly in public. Are you ashamed of me, Ms. Griffiths?”

“You know that’s not true.” She stood up and opened the door into the living room.

Mo scrambled up and followed her. Just inside the door, he pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips. “There. Sealed with a kiss.” He chuckled. “When is this rehearsal with dinner to follow and what do you want me to wear?”

She glanced down at the cargo shorts that rode a bit too high on hi
s legs. “Just a nice suit. In two days. We’re rehearsing in the church fellowship hall and then going to the Cliffs Restaurant. You know where it is?”

“Of course. Since I’m your date, I’ll pick you up.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll be running from the rehearsal to the restaurant, checking on the decorations and things. We’ll be in a special room, all to ourselves. Something I insisted on.”
In case there are fireworks.
“Besides, I need you at the rehearsal site first.”

“Are you coming back here to change and get all gussied up?”

“No. I was going to run over to Quinn’s place. To the hotel he manages. He said he’d find me a room to change in, before the rehearsal. The hotel is only about ten minutes from the church. That way I won’t have to race home and brave the traffic. You know how it gets on Friday afternoons.”

“Where’s he work? I’ll pick you up there.” He held up his hands to stop her from interrupting. “It
won’t look right if I just meet you at the church. I’m your date for the evening. Men don’t just
meet
their dates for dinner. They
escort
them.” He straightened an imaginary tie and beamed at her.

“I see your point. Okay. Quinn manages the
Pacific West Hotel. The rehearsal begins at five at the church and I need to be back at the restaurant no later than six-fifteen. Before everyone else, to make sure everything’s ready.”

“I detect a
case of nerves, Gillian.”

“Is that a skill you doctor
s learn in med school, to know when nerves are showing?” She edged away from him so he wouldn’t try for another kiss.

“Let’s just say I’m aware of
your
nerves, my dear.” He walked down the porch steps, careful to avoid the painting supplies Gillian had not yet removed. “Enjoy your painting.”

“Thanks, Mo.”

“I’ll collect my thanks after the big event.” He laughed.

Two days later Gillian relaxed in the huge two-person tub at the hotel. Quinn had arranged for her to use a suite. She pulled a fluffy bath sheet around her body and clambered out of the tub. She’d just finished brushing her hair when the phone rang on the desk in the sitting room, a distinctive little sound that suggested falling water. No regular old
bbbrring bbbrring
was good enough at this place. “Hello?”

Quinn’s voice revealed his tension.
“I’m just checking in. Are you about ready? Trudi’s already in the lobby and Bianca’s dad is due any minute. She’s a nervous wreck.”

“
Trudi?”

“No. Bianca.
Trudi’s her usual
I-know-better-than-anyone
self. In case I never mentioned it, I’m glad you aren’t like her.”

Gillian laughed. “I’ll be do
wn in a few minutes. Why don’t you take Trudi into the bar or something?”

“The last thing she needs is alcohol, Mom.
Gawd!”

“Then get her some hot tea and maybe a piece of pie, something to keep her busy. Let me go so I can
finish getting ready.”

She
trotted back into the bedroom, her toes reveling in the deep plush of the carpet.

Gillian
applied her makeup and slipped into her clothes. She’d finally decided a navy blue wrap dress would work for the rehearsal dinner. To set it off, she wore diamond earrings Owen had given her years ago, after one of the trysts he was afraid she would find out about. Funny how he always gave himself away by gifting her with expensive baubles he’d never have thought of for such mundane events as her birthday or Christmas. She slid her feet into heels matching her dress and grabbed her small clutch.

She exited the elevator and spied Mo standing like a sentinel just inside the entrance of the reception area. He waved to her and sauntered in her direction wearing a dark blue suit with a navy tie over a white dress shirt. A red rose bud sat on his
lapel and he held a small box in one hand.
We’re like twins. I should have checked with him first.

“For you. My, don’t you look lovely?” Mo’s
gaze drifted up her body, slowing at what Gillian imagined to be her neckline.

“I brought you this
. What do you think?”

She peeked in the box.
“It’s lovely. But let me save it for the wedding tomorrow. I’m wearing pink then and these flowers will look great with my other dress.”

“Good plan.” He waited while she handed the box to the person at the desk and asked him to hold it for her.

“There’s Trudi. Let me introduce you.” She grabbed Mo’s arm and pulled him in the direction of the gray-haired woman who was looking around imperiously, her nose elevated as if she had just detected a noxious odor.

“
Trudi? There you are. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. This is Doctor Maurice Shellenberg, my guest. Mo, meet Bianca’s mother, Trudi Wilson.”

“Wilson-Sauer, Gillian,”
Trudi corrected.

“Yes, of course. My mistake.”
Sour is right.
Trudi wore a black suit set off with silver threads.
Like her mood. Black.
Around her neck lay several strands of silver that sparkled in the early evening light.

Mo took up the cause.
“Are you ready to go to the rehearsal for Bianca’s wedding? I’m sure this must be a highlight for you. Seeing your daughter married to such a fine young man.”

“
Let’s just get it over with. I hardly had a thing to eat on the plane and nothing was available here that looked very tasty.” She hesitated slightly, before adding, “My escort said he would meet us there.”

“Your escort?” Gillian asked. Had Bianca mentioned a new husband?

“Yes. He used to live in Seattle and wanted to touch base with a couple of his old friends.”

“Oh. So he knows about the rehearsal at the church?”

“Didn’t I say he would meet us there?”
Trudi peered at Gillian with a look that suggested her intelligence was barely equal to that of a toad, or some other lowly creature Trudi was inclined to squash and then rub off the bottom of her shoe. Or maybe not. She would probably never deign to squash a toad in her Manolos.

Gillian glanced at Mo who seemed to be holding back laughter, his eyes twinkling in her direction. “I’m sure what we have after the rehearsal will meet with your approval.” He reached over and tucked
Trudi’s hand into his elbow. “Call me Mo. All my friends do.”

“Thank you, doctor, b
ut that seems so informal. Is that
common
around here—for people to call a man of your standing by a
nickname
?” She said the word as if it harbored bugs.

“Nothing like informality to generate friendliness. May I call you
Trudi?” he asked and headed for the door. “I took the initiative and called a cab for us. I knew you ladies wouldn’t want to have to wait for one.”

Gillian thanked him with her eyes as he hustled the three of them out the door. To her right she spied Quinn talking animatedly with a very
tall man. Bianca’s father, maybe? He looked like a thin male version of Bianca. He sported a fringe of gray-streaked brown hair above his ears and a trim mustache. He was waving a bowler hat in one hand, his other hand clutching the arm of a woman who looked so thin a mild wind was likely to blow her out an open door.
Sara? He brought Sara?
Gillian looked at Trudi, who was climbing into the cab.

“Could you wait for me
? Just one minute? I forgot something.” She motioned for Mo to take a seat next to Trudi. “I’ll be right back.”

She trotted into the hotel and walked over to Quinn. “Are you
going to the church now? Where’s Bianca?”

“She’s already there. She wanted to talk to the minister,” Quinn explained. “This is Bianca’s dad,
Parker Wilson. And Sara. His wife.”