Love's Battle (True Blue Trilogy) (12 page)

“Hello Mother.”

“Danton dear, did I wake you?”

“No, I was up.” I lied, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, stifling a yawn. “Paperwork.”

“Well good. The reason I’m calling so early is that I find myself in need of a favor.”

“Sure,” I answered, not even waiting to hear what she needed it for. It was likely to be worse than anything I could conjure up.

“But dear,” She protested. “You don’t even know what it is?”

“That’s okay. I like surprises.” I lied again.

“Oh. You’re such a good son. Je t‘adore.” My mother said with such unabashed joy that I couldn’t resist miming a gun pointing at my head with my hand and pulling the thumb. “I’ll pick you up around nine. Just a light breakfast, we’ll be eating later. Oh, and be sure to wear something nice.”

“Okay.” Hanging up the phone I stared at the ceiling doing my best not to picture the horror waiting in store. Consoling Melanie, returning more gifts, tennis with mother at her club, helping number four pack his things, the list was endless.

When it got to be too much I hit the shower. But even the hot water couldn’t erase the earlier vision my mind had created of Love Howard in my bed.

Wiping the steam from the mirror brought forth an imagine of the woman herself. Her hair, pulled away from her face the same as it had when I’d first laid eyes on her. Laughing eyes that haunted me at every turn and a devilish smile I couldn’t get out of my head. Looking in the mirror, I would swear I could see her reaching out to touch my face, again, feel my cheek tingling where her real hand had met my skin, smell the scent of roses in the air.

Just days before I had been livid at the gumption that brought her sauntering into my office, offering her business up as a new client. I had every intention of tossing the folder with her presentation into the fireplace when I got home and burning it, but I couldn’t make myself do it.

Maybe it was the way I remembered her eyes briefly pleading with mine seconds before she brought Melanie’s world crashing down around us. Maybe it was the way she looked at me during our meeting as if she had something else she wanted say. For all I knew it could have been a little voice inside my head encouraging me to listen. Whatever it was, the end result was that instead of throwing the folder away, I kept it.

Sitting down I decided to thumb through the papers until my mother arrived to pick me up. It was an interesting read.

Art and Antiquities had opened its doors two years ago, shortly after Love had graduated her first go round of college. Using a large portion of the trust fund her parents had set up for her, Love had begun to lay the ground work for a new type of museum. With equal contributions from her sisters- triplets, I still couldn’t believe it- and numerous fundraisers including a talent show in which the trio themselves had played, the one of a kind museum opened to very little fanfare.

In the months that followed, thanks to hard work and dedication, Art and Antiquities began rising on the list of places to visit in Baltimore. To keep the ball rolling, Love was putting together an early anniversary exhibition and wanted to go all out for it. Her motives were clear, bring history into the now.

Flipping through the pictures of various exhibits that she included, I had a hard time linking the displays into a cohesive unit. The ideas and themes jumped around. But as I read the printout from the museum’s website, I realized I didn’t have to, the comments from the viewers did that for me.

“… an abstract learning experience that left me enlightened.”

“If school had been this fun, I would have done better.”

“A place the kids never get tired of. Every time we visit, we always find something new.”

Closing the file I thought it was too bad that family loyalties came first. Taking care of the advertising for Art and Antiquities would have been a pretty interesting project. Love Howard certainly had a flair for the abstract and working with her was bound to cause a few fireworks.

Chapter 22

“Find Me a Find”

Love

With a quick rap on Hope’s front door I let myself in. The garment bag holding my dress and shoes thrown over my shoulder, I stooped down to shake hands with the out stretched paw of Hope’s four legged companion, the esteemed Laird Alastair Ervin Sloan of Torridon; Allie for short. A monstrous blue Great Dane, he was the current multi-title holder of numerous national and international medals among the dog show world.

“Hello Alastair and good morn’ to ya.” I greeted, my voice automatically switching to the deeply ingrained Scottish brogue that had stuck with me life after life.

I was delighted by his doggy smile and answering woof.

“Where’s your mama?”

“Up here.” Hope called from the top of the stairs.

“See ya in a bit Allie.”

Knowing Hope would be in a hurry I bounded up the stairs, my large gold earrings twinkling merrily as I untied the belt of my wrap dress with one hand. Breezing into Hope’s room I stepped out of my ballet flats, letting the dress fall into a puddle at the foot of the massive eighteenth century bed dominating her room.

Classic on a number of levels, an early Victorian era chandelier hung from the ceiling dripping with crystals. The corn flower silk curtains perfectly matched the silk duvet and were set off by the dainty hydrangea papered walls that added a touch of whimsy to the casual elegance of the room.

“I was thinking light and airy.” Hope began. “No Danny Boy or any battle marches. There aren’t many surviving from those eras anyway and I don’t want everyone in tears.” Fastening chunks of amethyst at her ears, Hope continued to give orders as she stepped into a pair of nude Miu Miu platform sandals. “Fairydance, Drops of Brandy.”

Pulling my costume from the depths of its plastic confines, I rattled of several song titles. “Barne Lochiel, Castle Kelly. I love Carolyn’s Dream.”

Stopping, I sucked in my stomach turning my back to Faith who was waiting to zip my dress and eager to cut in with ideas of her own. “Baldo Baleerie. It’s a lullaby but not to sappy. Rosaleyn’s Plaid. Morgan Magan.”

Letting my breath out I returned the favor, zipping the back to Faith’s identical dress. Strapless emerald green satin, the bodice was formed by a row of long inverted pleats banded together with a thick belt embroidered with a gold floral design. Tight to the knees the pleats were repeated again as the satin flared out, mermaid style, decorated once again with the same floral gold embroidery.

“Perfect.” Hope declared as we stood side by side, the white eyelet shirt dress she wore falling to mid-thigh. “Let’s go. The caterer should be finishing up. The two of you need to practice.”

Stepping into my gold Jimmy Choo’s I followed dutifully, without protest.

Chapter 23

“Catch Me a Catch”

Danton

“Turn here.” Chanton directed, throwing out her bejeweled arm. “Just follow the drive around. We’ll park in back.”

Doing as told I followed the U shaped drive surrounding the stately stone colonial with its maroon shutters covered in a profusion of climbing white roses. Parking among the various cars already there before us, a sleek silver Audi, a large white Tahoe, a couple of Mercedes, a Cadillac, the caterer’s van- one I recognized, good choice-, a corvette, and a red Alpha Romeo that had my heart skipping a few beats as I brushed a light caress along the hood. The car was a living dream.

“Come along dear.” After thirty years it still scrambled my mind that this woman, continuously recognized from her infamous years in front of the camera, with her rose colored view of life was my mother.

Tall and dark, I showed not the first hint of Irish/French blood that had made my mother’s career. Instead I was the spitting image of my father and in my very mixed opinion, I was acting more like him every day. Unlike my mother I didn’t have a single whimsical, flighty, fairytale bone in my body. Not really a bad thing, since I preferred to stay more grounded in reality and as of right now a bachelor for life.

Trailing behind my mother we made our way across the gravel drive into a well-manicured back lawn where the sounds of a harp and a flute flowed through the open doors of the house.

Passing under an arched bowery of flowers I drew up short at the sight of what I thought was a dog. It was hard to be sure. With its color and size it could just as easily be Babe the Blue Ox!

“Oooh, hello Allie. Aren’t you looking handsome today.” My mother cooed to the dog as if it were a long lost friend, going so far as to even shake the paw that it offered. “Allie, my son Danton. Danton…”

“Laird Alastair Ervin Sloane of Torridon.”

My head snapped up at the familiar and unexpected voice. The dog’s presence had been so demanding of my attention that I hadn’t seen the approach of the body the voice belonged to. But then, I didn’t need to see the body it belonged to, only the eyes.

“Hello Chanton. May I say, you are looking exquisite?”

“Doll, you can say more than that. In fact, I wish you would.” My mother preening under the attention embraced the short haired blonde. “Danton, this is…”

“Hope Howard.” She said with an outstretched hand. “We met last week.”

“You work fast.” My voice was cold, her welcoming smile unwavering as I refused to shake her hand.

“Danton.” My mother gasped, horrified at my lack manners.

“When I need to.” Hope answered without preamble or the least bit of apology.

I turned to my mother, wanting these games to be done with. “Do you know who she is?”

“Why of course dear,” Chanton answered with such nonchalance that I glared at her. “Don’t be mad mon cherie. Hope called late yesterday evening and explained everything.”

“Did she?” Sarcasm laced my voice, “I’m sure it was interesting.”

“Yes it was and if you’d remember yourself for a moment, I’ll explain.”

Arms folded across my chest I waited for her to continue.

“Hope’s sister has done your cousin a great favor. Melanie had been content to ignore Stephen’s infidelities in light of so badly wanting a family that she chose to ignore the lies he fed her in a bid for a single grain of happiness. But I ask you Danton, how can one be happy in the face of a lie? Your cousin will have a true chance at happiness now that this mess with Stephen is behind her.”

Typical, a mere week after she cast off her two timing fiancée, my mother expected Melanie to bounce right back. Too soon in anybody’s book, but I couldn’t argue with the logic she presented. Melanie never would have been content with a man who was unfaithful to her and their wedding vows.

“Did that give Love the right to destroy what should have been a happy day for her?”

“You know your cousin better than that.” My mother chided. “The child is as stubborn as the day is long. Would you have preferred her to realize too late what she’d tied herself too, only to have her blame herself when he turned time and again into the arms of another woman? Because he would have. And would you have her, because she is the type of person, to shoulder all of the blame when the marriage failed?”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t entirely sure if we were still talking about Melanie or if we were now talking about her.

“How many years of misery would she have had to live through in an attempt to salvage a marriage that was already doomed? I think living through one day that didn’t go according to plan far outweighs the alternative. Don’t you?”

I couldn’t answer that question either, not with so many questions swimming around in my head. Had Melanie ever been happy? Had my mother? Where had it all gone so wrong?

“Now,” My mother ordered. “Consider what you’ve heard and when you’re done greet Alastair properly so that you don’t hurt his feelings, then come join us.”

“Well said Chanton,” Hope nodded, linking their arms in approval. “Now then, tell me how you’ve been.”

I considered my mother’s words as I eyed the dog that is nearly as big as I am. Cocking his large head to the side he seemed to be confused by my inaction; as if no one had ever refused his salutation. With regal bearing he lifted his paw again.

A wedding that wasn’t, a set of identical triplets with mismatching eyes, and a dog that acted more human than most people I knew. I was afraid to ask what else the day had in store for me.

Giving in, I bowed at the waist taking the offered paw. “Pleased to meet you Laird Alastair.”

Despite the early morning heat, the fan cooled shade was pleasant. “Nice house,” I complimented, taking the open seat across from Hope. It was huge, definitely enough room for three. “Do you live here with your sisters?”

“No, it’s just me and Alastair. Faith and Love each have their own places.”

“Are they here?” I asked, attempting to make small talk with the only person I knew besides my mother. I wasn’t in the mood to make friends.

“I’m sure they’re around.”

“So, why all the subterfuge?” I questioned, leaning forward to snag a grape from her plate, popping it in my mouth. “Why am I here? Is this another attempt to get my firm to take your case?”

“I deal very little with museum business, that’s all Love. I am, as you can see, in the match making business and this IS a member’s party.” She intoned, swirling her frosted glass of orange juice. “A handsome unattached male as yourself is quiet a boon at this type of thing.”

“Haha. You can think of a better reason than that.” I challenged.

Hope chuckled. “Of course I can, but that’s not my story to tell.”

“Whose is it then?”

Gesturing with her glass Hope pointed in the direction of the open French doors where a playful composition drifted into a poignant melody, heart piercing in its loveliness. A far off look in her eyes made me her mind had wondered off into a world of its own, no longer here with me on the back porch, but somewhere else entirely.

Pulling herself back, Hope shook her head. “You’ll have to see for yourself. I need to mingle.” Standing to her feet, her strange gaze was replaced with that of a mischievous child bent on foolishness. An expression, it looked so much like the one Love had worn earlier in my office that I was unnerved by it. “Help yourself to a plate, there’s plenty inside.”