Hale Maree (23 page)

“
Well, I suppose that’s the
life of a newlywed,” he says kindly. “How about you show Hale to
the guest house, Oscar, and we’ll have a talk before dinner. Hale,
I hope you enjoy mesquite chicken. I am looking forward to
discussing the wedding party then.”

With that, Mr. Maree turns and walks away,
and Oscar says, “We’re staying in the guest house until we find our
own place. It’s more private that way.”

He leads me through his mansion to the back
patio. We walk through French doors, and down a cobbled garden path
to another house. What they call a ‘guest house’ looks like a
regular house to me, even if the mansion dwarfs it. It’s charming,
with a front porch that stretches around the entire exterior, and
enough trees to seclude it from the mansion.

Oscar opens the front door and lifts me over
the threshold again. He sets me down inside, on a polished, wood
floor that has a better shine than my own hair. To the right, there
are two steps leading down to the white carpet of the living room,
straight forward is a kitchen, and to the left are three doors, one
that leads into an enormous bedroom, one that opens to a bathroom,
and the other that leads into a den.

With his fingertips, Oscar takes me into the
bedroom. The bed has a metal canopy draped around the top with
white lace. There is a walk-in closet, and a door leading into the
bathroom.

“
If you want to relax in the
tub, I’ll bring in our bags,” Oscar says. He opens the door to a
raised tub that is large enough for five people.

“
It’s a swimming pool,” I
say. Oscar laughs and turns on the water, tossing in some of the
bath beads from a dish on the ledge. I guess I’m taking a
bath.

“
I’ll join you in a minute,”
he whispers, leaving a kiss on my neck, and then he is gone, back
out the door to get the bags.

#

There are no bubbles. None. And there is a
huge stained glass window that lets so much light in, it’s like
being outside. Without bubbles to hide beneath. The bath beads only
scent the water, so by the time the tub fills up, Oscar is back,
and I’m still standing there, chewing on my thumbnail.

“
What’s the matter?” he
asks.

“
Oh, um, I thought there’d
be bubbles,” I say.

“
Those aren’t, huh?” He
points to the dish of bath beads and I shake my head. “Huh, well,
they smell good.”

He strips off his shirt easily, but pauses
when he sees that I’m still standing there, gnawing my thumb. He
reaches up and moves my hand away from my mouth.

“
You okay?” he
asks.

“
It’s really bright in
here,” I tell him.

“
Good.” He smiles
shamelessly. “Why did you think I wanted to take a bath in
here?”

He steps toward me, reaching for the
waistband of my shorts. I let him undress me and do the same to
him, although I don’t look. I keep my gaze rooted in his, and he
does the same. But being naked in front of Oscar, with his eyes
never once wandering from mine, is even more intense than if he
were kneeling between my legs, watching his own finger moving in
and out of me.

We step up into the bath together, and lower
into the warm water at once. Oscar takes my hands and drapes them
over his shoulders. He sits on the ledge beneath the waterline, and
pulls me on top of him, so my knees are on either side of his hips.
Without ever taking his eyes off mine, he lowers me down onto his
lap.

I feel his manhood pressing up toward me. He
lowers me down on the tip slowly, but it hurts as he enters me. I
bite my lip.

“
That hurts?” he asks. I
shake my head, but as he moves more deeply inside me, I have to
bite harder to stop myself from whimpering.

“
No, no,” Oscar says,
pulling out of me. “If it hurts, we’ve got to stop and let you
heal.”

He draws me close and kisses
me. “We’re not doing this because I want it. We do this
because
we
want
it. Understand?”

I nod, and he kisses me again.

#

Stepping into the dining room in the Maree
mansion, I feel totally underdressed. The table is made of dark,
polished wood, and it’s set with fine china. Mr. Maree is still
wearing his suit, his polished shoes, and every strand of his hair
is in place. The only thing that keeps me from running away is
Oscar, standing beside me in shorts too.

Oscar pulls out a chair for me, and takes
the one beside it for himself. Mr. Maree takes a seat too, just as
a woman in cotton capris and a blue t-shirt comes in with a tray of
salads. She serves us the salads, along with a basket of bread, and
fills our water glasses.

“
Your dinner will be ready
in a moment,” she says. “Anyone need anything else before then? Mr.
Maree? Oscar? Hale?”

“
No thank you, Linda,” Mr.
Maree and Oscar answer, almost at once.

I’m shocked that she knows my name, but I
just shake my head with a shy smile. She smiles too, and excuses
herself from the room with her empty tray.

“
So, we’re having a
wedding,” Mr. Maree says. “Has Oscar told you my suggestion? I was
thinking we could have the ceremony on the grounds and have an
outdoor reception.”

“
That sounds sweet,” I
say.

“
Excellent,” Mr. Maree says.
“Then we’ll send you for a dress tomorrow, and I’ll let Holly know
to go ahead with the arrangements for a Sunday wedding.”

If I had food in mouth, I’d choke. That
means we have one day to get ready. The only comfort I have is from
the conversations I’ve overheard between Oscar and his father. The
wedding will be a small gathering in the back yard, nothing much,
so maybe it will only take a day to prepare. I can’t imagine many
guests coming, on a day’s notice. I’m sure my father will be there,
but I’m not sure how I feel about that just yet. Our last
conversation ended with him rifling a bottle at the wall beside
me.

“
Sunday is perfect,” I say,
and Mr. Maree grins.

“
Generally speaking,
weddings are reserved for Saturdays, however, this is a
particularly special occasion,” he says. I think he’s going to
mention Rick Tatum, and how we need to hurry everything along to
seal our families together, or more like, seal my and my father’s
mouths shut, but Mr. Maree turns his eyes lovingly to his son, and
I realize instantly that I assumed wrong. “It’s not everyday that
my only son gets married, and you’ll see Hale, that being a Maree
means that sometimes, not very often, but sometimes, we can tell
the world that Sunday is actually Saturday, and they will
agree.”

I am in awe of what that means. I can’t even
tell the guy at the bakery that his three-day-old bread should be
marked down.

“
Let’s see,” Mr. Maree says,
retrieving his phone. He mumbles as he scrolls his phone screen,
“Holly sent me questions to move things along. Ah yes. Colors. What
color preference do you have, Hale?”

“
Purple,” Oscar answers, at
the same time that I say, “Yellow.”

“
Hmm,” Mr. Maree says,
texting. “Purple and yellow. Any preferences for music or table
arrangements?”

I have no idea what I would prefer. A
stereo? Flowers? I don’t know a thing about flowers. The only two I
can identify are roses and dandelions.

“
Whatever you think is
best,” I say, and Mr. Maree smiles at me.

“
Any preference for the main
dishes?”

“
I don’t know,” I say,
glancing at Oscar, but he just shrugs, encouraging me to answer. “I
haven’t been to any weddings. I know they had mostaccioli at a baby
shower I went to.”

“
You’re certainly easy to
get along with, Hale,” Mr. Maree says. “I can tell that it will be
a pleasure to have you in our family.”

“
Thank you,” I say. I don’t
know what to call him. Sir? Mr. Maree? Dad? I just steer around it
by taking a drink of water. I glance over at Oscar and see him
watching me with a tiny grin. I mouth to him,
what?
as his father texts something
into his phone.

Beautiful
, Oscar mouths back, with a
wink that heats me up inside.

“
Oh,” Mr. Maree looks up
from his phone. “Your friend, Sher, has chosen some dress ideas, it
seems. Holly has also informed the dress shop that you’re
coming.”

“
I’ll take her there
tomorrow,” Oscar says.

“
Alright,” Mr. Maree says,
glancing at his son with a smile. “And what about you, Oscar?
Holly’s got ideas for your tuxedo style, but I told her you would
want some say in the matter. I assume I’m right?”

“
You are,” Oscar says. “I’ll
talk with Holly myself.”

“
Perfect,” Mr. Maree says.
He clicks in another text and lays the phone down beside his plate.
“People say weddings are nightmares to plan. I just don’t see
it.”

“
That’s because it’s Holly’s
nightmare, not yours,” Oscar laughs. His father replies with a
chuckle, sliding a bite of salad into his mouth.

“
One last bit of business,
Hale,” Mr. Maree says, after Linda delivers our main course. “I’ve
spoken to your father, and I understand that the two of you left
on, well, not the best of terms.”

I push the green beans
across my plate with my fork. My father gave me to a stranger. No,
he
threw me out
to
be with a stranger. I might have fallen in love with the stranger
and agreed to be his wife, but what if I hadn’t? Should that even
matter now?

“
He’d like to have a word
with you,” Mr. Maree says. “Actually, I think it is more accurate
to say he’d like to apologize to you. He’s doing well, and I hope
you won’t mind that I invited him here tonight for
dessert.”

“
Um,” I glance at Mr. Maree,
and at Oscar, and back again. “I guess that’s fine.”

And then, for the rest of dinner, I hear
only bits of the conversation, as my mind turns over what exactly
I’m going to say to my father.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MY FATHER COMES IN AT the same time that
Linda brings in dessert, as if he’d been waiting somewhere else. I
think it is just a dessert tray full of choices, but Mr. Maree
explains that they are cake samples. He thinks it would be a ‘nice
experience’ for all of us to try the different bakery samples, and
choose which one we want, as a family, for the wedding.

My dad sidles up to the table, twisting his
baseball cap in his hands. He looks different. Taller, somehow.
He’s gained some weight, and his skin doesn’t look so ruddy. But
it’s not until he bends down and pecks my cheek that I know what
the real difference is.

He’s sober.

“
Hello, Hale,” he says,
taking the empty seat beside me. “How are you?”

“
Getting married, Dad. How
are you?”

“
Getting sober, honey.” He
looks into his lap, and I worry he might be about to cry. If he
cries, I’m going to cry, and it will be a mess. I’m relieved when
he lifts his head and pulls it together. “Are you
happy?”

I sit for a minute, unsure of what to say,
whether I need to pursue the fight or let it go. But Oscar’s thigh
brushes mine, and when I glance at him, he gives me an encouraging
wink that decides it all.

“
I’m very happy, Dad, thank
you,” I say, and my father looks away and pinches his
eyes.

“
Good,” he says, but his
voice crumbles. “Hale, I’m...”

“
Dad,” I lay a hand on his
arm. “It’s fine. I’m happy.”

My father gives me a bittersweet grin, and
Mr. Maree takes over then, with an elegant smile. He taps his fork
on the edge of one of the plates.

“
This one,” he says, “is
incredible. This is the hazelnut cake, with a praline and chocolate
buttercream, I think.”

Oscar passes me the plate. I put a piece of
the cake in my mouth, and it is exactly what Mr. Maree
said—incredible. I close my eyes for a moment to savor it. I’ve
never tasted a dessert as good as this.

“
Try it, Dad,” I say,
handing him the plate. “This is the one I’d like at my wedding. I
think you’ll like it too.”

My father takes a bite, his lips trembling
as he closes his mouth on the sweet sample.

“
I do,” he says, with a
grateful smile. “Thank you, Hale. I like it very much.”

#

The next morning, Sher is waiting at the
doors of the dress shop, where Oscar drops me off. She squeals when
she sees me, and runs to throw her arms around me.

“
I missed you! I missed
you!” she shrieks. “And I’m so excited! A Sunday wedding? It’s so
elegant! Do you know you made the news?”

“
Get out of here!” I
say.

Sher puts on an announcer’s
voice, and says, into the imaginary microphone of her curled fist,
“
Otto Maree, of Otto Maree Investments,
announced today that his only son, Oscar Charles Maree, will be
wedding a Miss Hale Simmons, in a Sunday ceremony, to be held on
the grounds of the family’s estate. The entire Maree Investment
firm, and their subsidiary companies, are not expected to report
back to work until Wednesday, in order to celebrate, as they say,
‘properly’.
” Sher drops her fist
microphone. “That is so over the top! You are so lucky,
Hale!”