On The Dotted Line (7 page)

“It
may help to make the store more profitable. Sell deep not wide.” He stepped
forward, bowed slightly and held out his hand. “Nanette Riviera?”

She
grunted, but gave him her hand. Actually, she took his hand. “He’s nervous.”

“He
should be.” Willow laughed.

Though
he longed to take his hand back, he remained still. “I’m standing right here.”

“As
you describe it, he just got everything he wanted. Why should he be nervous?” She
turned over his hand and gazed down at his palm. “Look here, Chiquita.”

Willow
joined Nan. “Interesting.”

“What
does it say?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“What
does what say?” Nan turned his hand over and back again.

“My
palm.”

Nan
put his hand up to her ear. “I don’t know. We don’t read palms.”

Willow
bit her lip, but couldn’t stifle her smile.

“But
you are telling me you’re nervous, you want leave and you hate being out of
your element.” She released him.

He
shoved his hand in his pocket. “We do need to get going. If you want to pack a
few things now, we can hire some help tomorrow to get everything organized.”

“I’m
ready.” Nan shook her head. “No need for assistance.”

“I’ll
be ready in ten minutes.” Willow put her hand on Nan’s shoulder and kissed her
cheek. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Change
is life.” Nan patted her. “Randolph and I will talk.”

Willow
disappeared up the small flight of stairs. He pulled at his lower lip, not even
wanting to imagine what would take only ten minutes to pack. His sock drawer
would take twice as long. Well, sock drawers.

A
shudder ran through him, the same one as when someone came up to close behind
him. He needed to face the inevitable and put a large Ivy League smile on his
face before turning to Nan.

The
woman narrowed her eyes.

He
swallowed and went to say something endearing. Maybe tell her she looked lovely?

“Remain
silent.”

He
pressed his lips together.

She
held one finger up.

He
bit the inside of his mouth, examining the olive-skinned woman with her dark
hair pulled back in a bun.

She
tilted her head left, right and left again.

At
last she nodded.

“May
I speak now?” He dug his nails into his palm, unwilling to be the butt of
another one of her jokes.

“Interesting.”
She chuckled.

“What
is it?”

“For
someone who follows directions, you chose a strange time to be bad.” The
corners of her eyes lifted in what seemed to be amusement.

“Who
said I follow directions?” Not wanting to stand in the middle of the tiny room
any longer he motioned toward a couple of chairs and a table in the front by
some books.

“The
list your father made you. You must be very determined or very weak.” The woman
waddled over.

He
pulled out the chair for her. “Which do you think it is?”

She
plopped down in the wrought iron chair and looked backward at him. “You
convinced my Chiquita to go along with your foolish plan.”

“Ah,
but she had me agree to take you along with me. In fact, she had me write you
into the contract.” He took his seat across from her.

“Willow’s
strength was never in question.” She strummed her fingers on the table.

Silence
overtook them and the woman’s words echoed in his head. “For the record, I have
done plenty of bad things.”

“You
are hiding something.” She chose an apple out of the little basket on the
table. After examining the fruit, she rooted around in the basket and pulled
out a little paring knife. “But you don’t know who you really are.”

“What
do you mean by that?” Could the woman read minds? Who was she to pass judgment
on him?

Rather
than answer, she peeled the apple, the green peel coming off in one long spiral
and falling to the table. She cut a wedge, pierced the section with the tip of
her knife and held it out to him.

“I
don’t care for apples, thank you.” He tapped his foot on the floor and glanced
at his watch.

“You’ll
like this one.” She continued to hold the offering out.

To
avoid being rude to a woman he needed on his side, he took the piece of fruit. He
took a bite. Rather than being met with the expected overly sweet and too soft
apple, a tangy, crisp tartness ran over his tongue. He crunched away, swallowed
and popped the rest in his mouth.

“Yes,
I don’t think you know your true self.” She cut another section and held it
out.

Without
hesitation he took the treat. “I am very aware of who I am and who I will be.” The
woman was pulling some power play and before they all lived together for the
next year he needed to make sure she knew the hierarchy.

“Which
is why you almost lost what you fought for your whole life and are letting an
old woman who you don’t even know tell you what kind of fruit you like.” She
hit the table and burst into laughter.

“Nan?”
Willow ran down the stairs, her outfit jingling all the way.

At
the sight of his bride, he stood. “I see we decided not to change.” Before they
left he had to make sure of a couple things.

“Come
here, Chiquita.” Nan held her hand out.

“Are
you feeling all right? You seem pale.” Without even an acknowledgement his way,
Willow put a duffle bag at the foot of the stairs and went straight to the
woman, took her hand and knelt down beside her. “I’m sorry I didn’t discuss
this with you first, but…”

“I’m
fine.” Nan placed her finger over Willow’s lips. “Hold on, Randolph needs to
speak.”

They
both turned to him.

He
swallowed.

“What
is it?” Willow asked.

“Did
you tell Nan everything?”

“I
know your mother doesn’t know why you got married and I know you signed your
life away.” Nan cut some more of the apple and gave it to Willow.

Willow
took the slice off the knife with her teeth.

The
whole action fascinated him.

Nan
ate the last slice. “I also know that you are generous as long as you get what
you want.” She wiped off the knife, put it away and stood with the rest of the
apple remnants.

“What
if I don’t get what I want?” He followed the woman as she waddled over to an
oversized bag.

“I
have a feeling that hasn’t happened to you yet, but I hope you are strong
enough to survive it.” She walked through the curtains toward the back. “I’ll
put the peel and the core in the compost pile. Nothing should go to waste.”

“Do
we need to arrange for someone to pick up your cars?” He lifted Willow’s bag.”

She
shrugged. “No car, I don’t drive.”

No
car? “How did you get around?”

“Two
feet and ten toes.” She stepped in front of him. “Maybe you should take a walk
if it wouldn’t be too much of a waste of time.”

He
followed Willow and peeked up the small stairwell. Her living conditions were
not acceptable. No wonder it only took her no time to leave. “How were you
living up there?”

“Just
fine. Nothing is ever a waste.” She echoed Nan’s words.

He
motioned forward wondering what she would think of the land of waste and
excess, or what he called home.

Mansions
in Beverly Hills were normally oversized, ostentatious houses bloated with
material possessions. In the city where land was a premium, castles with wings
and servants didn’t truly exist.

At
least those types of homes didn’t exist until they drove through the gates to
Randolph’s residence.

A
virtual field of perfect green grass provided the backdrop for planned,
pristine flowers, bushes, shrubs and trees, all creating the literal ideal
landscape for a mansion. A real mansion. Randolph lived in a mansion.

Willow’s
breath caught. White columns, a sprawling building, and a fountain in the front.
The place had enough wings it could take off and fly anytime, and never worry
about losing altitude.

“My
great, great, great grandfather bought the land on a lark while on vacation decades
ago,” as if sensing her need for an explanation, Randolph spoke. “He hated
living back east and built the home. Every generation of my family has lived
here at one point or another. My grandfather and grandmother lived here, but he
loved the east and retired there to be closer to the rest of the family. I have
always lived here. Since then, many people have tried to buy it, and though I
think my father has been tempted…”

“The
house is yours after the year is out.” She finished for him. If all Randolph
ever did with his life was sell the property, he would be set forever. Still,
the thought of having something with such history intrigued her. She didn’t
know the name of anyone in her family except her mother. Nan’s family wasn’t
large either. Though Nan told her to concentrate on the present, it would be nice
to have a past, something to give her a spot in the universe. “If you ever have
a child are you going to give it to him or her or are you going to sell it?”

“If
I ever give it to a child, it will be exactly that, a gift.” His voice seemed
far away.

She
inhaled and glanced down at her outfit. Maybe with the history and the
generations that graced the halls of his home she should have toned it down a
bit. No one ever gave her a list of tasks or led her down a path. Nan simply
told her to let her heart guide her. In his own way, maybe Randolph tried to guide
her, help her. She did have to live with these people for the next year.

“Of
course, I doubt I’ll ever have any children. I just want my house and my
business and then I’m packing up Junior and his trophy.” He glided his car to
the front of the home, threw it into park and turned to her. “Leave your
crystal ball and magic potions in the car. We have staff to help you unpack.”

Without
another word he got out of the car.

Of
course there was always the possibility his history made him narrow minded and
a jerk, one who only wanted to conform. Above all else she needed to remember
to stay true to her values and not become attached. She reached in her bag,
pulled out her sequined headband and put it on as he opened the doors for her
and Nan.

“Ladies.”
He offered Nan his hand first.

Nan
took his hand and allowed him to hoist her out of the car. She smiled at him
and touched his chin. “How will we all fit in such a tiny place?”

Randolph
tilted his head. “It would be much more spacious if we could get rid of my
parents.”

Nan
sighed.

Randolph
held out his arm and gave her one of those manufactured smiles. “Mrs. Van Ayers?”

She
jutted her jaw out.

“We’re
married Mrs. Van Ayers. We ‘re on my turf now and need to enter the home as a
couple, as decreed by the paperwork you signed.” He took a breath. “Please?”

She
agreed to their arrangement, said vows in a chapel and signed a contract she
barely skimmed. Rather than argue about being genuine, she hooked her arm in
his and let him help her out of the car.

He
went to walk forward, but she stopped. She glanced at the huge wood double
doors with ornate handles. Her stomach dropped. Something, call it intuition,
ESP, or a sixth sense, told her he wanted to lead her into a disaster. She resisted.
“Randolph.”

“What
is it?” He lifted his sunglasses.

The
sun twinkled on those green eyes. How on earth could he not find a girl to
marry him? Between his money and his looks, many women would forgo the
personality to be with him. Hell, even she was taken in, but like the words she
said in front of some nondenominational official, she vowed to herself she
would keep her guard up. Since their interruption in the hotel, something
nagged at her. His whole situation was layered with lies and cover ups, and she
added to the whole deception. “Is there anything else I need to know before I
walk in? I don’t want to be blindsided.”

“What
do you mean?” He jutted his jaw out. “I’ve told you everything you need to
know.”

“Are
you sure?” She tried to search his eyes. The sparkle had vanished.

“Shouldn’t
you be able to tell without me saying a word?” He wiggled his fingers as if
casting a spell. “Or is that headgear squeezing too tight?”

“Yes,
I suppose I know the answer.” She let go of his arm. “I’m ready to go inside.”

He
motioned forward, and as she walked ahead the door magically opened and he put
his hand on the small of her back. The man would make them keep up appearances
no matter what it took.

They
stepped inside to the most incredible room. She may not have wanted to touch
Randolph before, but now she reached for him to keep herself upright. Only in movies
did she think such a room existed. Wood paneled gleaming walls were offset by a
white marble floor with what she could only assume was an oriental or Persian
rug. An antique table in the center held a huge arrangement of fresh flowers. Two
matching curving staircases led to the upper floor, and the crown jewel of the
entrance was a humongous twinkling crystal chandelier, something one would see
in an opera house. “Oh my God.”

Nan
grabbed her arm and squeezed.

“Sir.”
A man in a three-piece suit greeted them.

“Willow,
Nanette, this is our Head of Staff, Dimitri.” He nodded and handed the man his
car keys. “This is Willow Van Ayers and Nanette Riviera, their belongings are in
the car and need to be brought inside.”

“Excuse
me?” A woman’s voice echoed through the space followed by the click of heels on
the stone floor. “Randolph?”

As
if made to match the room, a beautiful woman entered. A bit older, the blonde
had her hair swept up and wore a pristine pink skirt suit. “Where have you
been? Who’s this?” She pressed her hand to her throat and her attempt at a
smile failed. “We missed your birthday.”

“Where’s
Father? I’ll make the introductions all at once.” Randolph pulled her over.

Unable
to resist, Willow allowed him to put his arm around her.

“Van!”
The woman licked her lips and took two steps toward them. “Van? Where are you?”

From
yet another entrance to the room, a man joined them. “What’s going on?” If she
ever wanted to know what Randolph would look like a bit older, all she needed
to do was look at the man in navy dress pants and a white button down shirt.

Several
other people gathered in the shadows as if peeking to see a show. Willow figured
they must be the elusive staff Randolph continued to mention.

“Good,
we’re all here.” Randolph moved them forward. “Willow, Nanette, this is my
mother, Lillian Van Ayers and my father, Randolph Van Ayers Jr.”

Randolph’s
mother reached out and took her husband’s hand. “Hello.”

His
father merely nodded.

“Mother,
Father, this is Nanette Riviera, and this beautiful woman by my side is my
bride, Mrs. Willow Van Ayers.” He squeezed her shoulder.

Randolph’s
father tilted his head. Willow swore she detected something strange behind his
green eyes. Amusement? Mischievousness? She couldn’t place it.

On
the other hand, his mother was an easy read. Her lower lip quivered, her
complexion paled and she fanned herself. “Bride? Did you say bride?” Not
waiting for her son to answer, she turned to her husband. “Van, did he say
bride?”

“Indeed,
that is what he said.” He shifted his attention to Randolph. “When exactly did
this take place?”

Willow
held her breath. Anyone else would find the way the man’s question was phrased
or odd, but she knew the deeper meaning.

Randolph
reached into his suit coat pocket and pulled out a paper. “Yesterday, we got
married on my birthday. Willow said now I’ll never forget our anniversary.” He
handed their marriage license to his father.

She
need not mention they would only celebrate one anniversary. No doubt his father
already knew that detail.

With
her chest heaving up and down, his mother leaned over. “Married? You got
married?”

“Yes
mother, Willow and I are married.” Randolph’s tone was one of boredom as if he
had anything better to do.

His
mother braced herself against Mr. Van Ayers, well the older Mr. Van Ayers. “He
got married? What happened? He got married to a gypsy?” She leaned over.

“Lillian?”
Mr. Van Ayers put his hand on her back.

“Van?”
She reached up for him, but missed. “I can’t breathe.”

“Lillian,
get control of yourself.” He took her hand. “What’s done is done. He’s married.”

“I
had plans. Him and Stephanie. He got married.” Her breath labored, she lowered
herself to her knees.

“Randolph.”
Willow covered her mouth, keeping her questions inside. Who was Stephanie and
why wasn’t Randolph doing anything about his mother passing out? She went to
step forward.

Randolph
pulled her back

“My
son is married and we weren’t there?” Lillian’s words trailed off and she
slumped over.

“Someone
get me some water!” His father got down on the floor as well.

“I
have something for this.” Nan went into action. She rushed over to Mrs. Van
Ayers and put her tote on the floor.

Her
stowaway cargo took his opportunity to free himself, and popped his head out of
Nan’s bag.

With
all the insanity Willow sort of hid the fact she owned a dog. She winced and
pushed Randolph aside to lunge for her baby, but before she reached him he
jumped out of the bag and ran straight into the scene of the crime. “Jeb!”

“What’s
that?” Randolph yelled.

“Let
me put this under her nose.” Nan shoved one of her sachets up to Mrs. Van Ayers’
face.

“Jeb,
come here!” She tried to catch up to him, but tripped on the long skirt she got
with a costume several years ago. Her palms slapped against the unforgiving
marble.

“Willow!”
Randolph grabbed her around the waist and yanked her upright.

Rather
than obey, her dog darted between them, bouncing over to Nan.

“Van?”
Mrs. Van Ayers shook her head and opened her eyes.

Jeb
barked, hopped up on her and gave the woman a lick.

“Van!
There’s a rodent attacking me!” She covered her eyes.

“Randolph!”
Willow yelled the first name that came to mind before someone exterminated her
boy.

“Everyone
stop!” Nan swooped up Jeb and stood.

They
all froze.

“You
must have never seen a rodent.” Nan pointed at Mrs. Van Ayers.

The
woman peeked through her fingers.

Nan
turned to Randolph. “A son who doesn’t run to his mother in her time of need.”
She made a tsking sound and shifted her focus to her.

Willow
recognized the glint in Nan’s eye and pressed her back against Randolph.

“Chiquita,
I told you not to hide yourself, and part of you is the animal you chose to
keep.” Nan held Jeb out to her.

She
stayed silent and took her pup. He licked her and she ground her teeth together
at his adorable little face.

At
last someone arrived with the glass of water.

“What
about me?” Mr. Van Ayers took the water and thrust it toward his wife.

Nan
narrowed her eyes. “Maybe you should have got the water for your wife yourself.”

“I
don’t think you should be the one to talk when my son’s new wife brought her
own maid with her.” He crossed his arms. “We need to get this house in order. Settle
my son and his wife in his wing and please help Miss Nanette get acquainted with
the rest of the staff.”

“Maid?”
What kind of people were these? Willow stomped forward and stood in front of Nan.
“Nan is not my maid, and she is most definitely not part of your staff.”

“Is
she your spiritual advisor?” Mrs. Van Ayers held up the sachet, put it to her
nose and shuddered.

“Father.”
Randolph mimicked her actions and stood in front of Nan. “Nanette is part of
the family and she will be living upstairs.”

Willow
stared at the back of Randolph’s head. At least the man took charge when needed.