Some Like It Perfect (A Temporary Engagement) (24 page)

Paul knocked softly on Justine’s door, the biggest bouquet of flowers he could hold in his hand.

When he heard the lock turn, he went down on both knees, and when he saw her closed face he let out a long breath.

“I am the stupidest man in Boston. Please let me make it up to you.”

He remembered Steve telling her last night that Paul was stupid, and he thought he might as well keep going on that refrain.

She shook her head. “You weren’t wrong, Paul. We were moving too fast. We aren’t sure.”

“We were moving fast. We had a good reason, Justine. We have an even better reason now.”

She closed her eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry I did this to us.”

He crawled on his knees to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, putting his ear to her belly. He murmured, “It’s been decided.” He looked up at her and whispered, “Thank you for doing this to us.”

Her bottom lip wobbled and when her eyes opened, they were filled with tears. “Really?”

“My sister is reserving a B&B for us, your mother is out picking a dress. We’re driving to New Hampshire and getting married today.”

Her eyes widened. “Uh. . . I don’t want to get married today.”

“I’m sweeping you off your feet.”

She let out a watery laugh. “Paul, I don’t really 
want
 to be swept off my feet. I want to be sure. That you’re the one and not just because I’ve run out of time.”

“Justine, don’t you see? You weren’t going to meet the one 
until
 you ran out of time. Which means, I’m it.”

“That is. . .circular.”

“But it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

She searched his face. “It’s a pretty thought.”

“It could be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever said.”

She sniffed. “I still don’t hear any birds.”

He got off his knees, kissing her and closing the door behind him. “We will, Justine. I know we will.”

Delia helped Jack and Summer box everything up, watching her apartment not-so-slowly empty itself as movers carried boxes down. Summer’s stuff was being moved and would meet her there, and Delia had just shaken her head. The only thing she had schlepped across the country had been her paintings and brushes.

Delia said, “Didn’t we just move this stuff in?” She spun in a slow circle, noting what was left and seeing that it was absolutely nothing. “I’m going to have to get a new roommate.”

Jack shouted from Summer’s room, “Why?”

“It’s a two-bedroom. I don’t need two bedrooms. I can’t afford two bedrooms.”

“You’ve got the deposit for Mother’s ceiling.”

“Is that still on? I thought I was persona non grata around there.”

“It’s still on. And you could make this bedroom into a studio, finish those two paintings you’ve been working on.”

He came out carrying a box and she flapped her hand at him. “I finished those.”

“When?”

“What do you think I do every morning when you go to work?”

Jack dropped the box by the door for the movers. “I thought you wandered around aimlessly until you could show your face at a ridiculously late hour.”

Delia tried to look pious. “And instead I am hard at work.”

Jack made a detour to kiss her, stopping to put some real effort into it. He murmured, “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“You should stay one morning and watch.” She whispered, “I paint naked.”

He laughed. “And I’ll believe
that
when I see it.”

She didn’t paint naked. She pulled on one of his t-shirts, covering it with an apron so she wouldn’t get any paint on it, and painted what was in her heart. This time it was the stars, she was pretty sure. She’d be pissed if it turned out to be paper again.

Summer walked past them, saying, “I know you guys can’t help yourself but can’t you wait until I’m gone? Or at least until the movers are gone.”

Delia pushed Jack away and went to inspect the second bedroom. She kept her works in progress under the bed and maybe a studio would be nice. She could leave everything up, not put everything away every day.

She just wasn’t sure she could afford it. Despite Jack’s assurance that she was still painting the dining room ceiling, Delia wasn’t counting on it. And even if she was, that money wouldn’t last long if she was paying for two bedrooms. She needed to start selling some paintings.

And speaking of paintings. ..

Delia found her bag, pulling out a rolled-up canvas and waving it at Summer. “For you.”

Jack said, “Where’s mine?”

“It’s at home.” When Jack smiled at her, she said, “What?”

Summer took her painting, saying, “Maybe you should just sublet this place. You’re hardly here anyway.”

Jack murmured, “There’s an idea,” and Delia’s belly flopped.

Summer carefully enrolled the canvas, and she and Jack stared at it.

Delia said, “I thought it was called
Woman-Child
. And then, maybe,
Metamorphosis
. Or,
Potential
. I can’t decide. So I just call it
Summer
.”

Summer whispered, “Is this how you see me?”

Delia looked over her shoulder. Looked at the expression of innocence and youth on her face, the glimmer of knowledge in her eyes. Her black hair blending into blond. Her mouth was beginning to smile, and while Delia was no Leonardo, she hoped you could see something in that smile. Hoped you could see hope and happiness. Could see past, present, and future in her expression.

Delia had hidden parts of Augusta and Gus in the painting. In locks of her hair. In the reflection of her eyes. Summer was parts of all three and maybe she’d be able to see that in years to come. That she didn’t have to leave everything behind to become a new her.

Delia had signed it “Wildfire”.

Jack took the painting, running his thumb lightly over her signature.

Summer hugged Delia tight, whispering, “Thank you.” She pulled back. “And I really want to see Jack’s.”

Delia shook her head. “No, you don’t. He’s not wearing any pants.”

“Eww!”

“Kidding.” At Jack’s look, she said again, “I’m kidding.”

The painted one had pants. She had a few sketches of him where he wasn’t.

The movers finally loaded the last box, the painting packed carefully inside a box inside a box inside a box.

Summer checked every room, every cupboard. She sat down on the floor in her empty bedroom, saying goodbye to her first apartment.

Jack leaned in the doorway watching her. “I’ll call you every week.”

Summer shook her head. “Not like Mother. We’ll call when we have something to share. We’ll call when we think of each other.”

He smiled. “I’ll try to limit it to once a week.”

Summer stood, hugging him. “I’ll come home for spring break.”

“You’ll be in Cancún or Puerto Vallarta. I’m waiting for the bill.”

“I’ll come home for summer then.”

Delia said from the other room, “I’ve never been to Cancún. Or Puerto Vallarta.”

Summer whispered, “You should take her.”

“I’m still trying to get her to Maine.”

Summer laughed, then slowly stopped smiling. “I thought Mother would come say goodbye.”

“Mother doesn’t like change. She’ll come around.”

Summer nodded, pulling away from him. “It’s okay, Jack. I’ve always had you when Mother couldn’t accept that things had changed.” She pushed him toward Delia. “And now that I’m grown, you can get on with your own life.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing, Summer.”

They drove her to the airport, parking and walking in with her despite her protests. Jack would have waited with her at the gate if he could have but settled for finding a vantage of the security line to watch her go through.

Catherine was waiting for them, clutching a small overnight bag and waving other travelers into the line.

Summer stopped when she saw her mother. “You came to say goodbye.”

Catherine adjusted her bag. “No. I’m taking my daughter to college.” She glanced at Jack and Delia. “I’m taking
Summer
to
Oklahoma
. I need to see where you’re going to be living for the next few years. And I thought getting out of Boston would be good for me as well. At least for a little while.”

Summer hadn’t let Jack come. She’d wanted to do it herself. But she smiled at her mother.

Jack said, “You haven’t flown in a few years. Things are different now.”

Catherine looked at the line snaking toward the metal detectors. “I can see that. Let’s get in line before it gets any longer.”

Jack said, “When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. I’ll see when I get there.”

Jack nodded. “Let me know.”

Catherine got in line and Summer gave Jack one more hug. She grinned at him, then hopped back to her mother.

Delia took Jack’s hand and said, “We’re still going to wait here until she gets through security, aren’t we?”

Jack nodded, only slightly consoled that Mother was going with Summer. He said, “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know that.”

Delia nodded. “Yes, I do. She’ll be okay as any of us. And she’ll come back if she’s not.”

Jack’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, then answered. “Did you forget something?”

He listened, then handed Delia the phone. He said grumpily, “It’s for you.”

Delia put the phone to her ear and Summer said, “He’s making airport security nervous. Take him away and distract him for a few hours.”

Delia smiled at Jack. “Can do. Text him when you’re settled so I know I can stop.”

“Don’t ever stop, Delia. He’s better with your distractions. He’s happier with you.”

Delia hung up and tugged on his hand, pulling him away from Summer. Pulling him away from nervous airport security.

She said, “Time to go. But don’t worry, I’ve got a few ideas on how we can keep busy. And they are all wrong. Very, very wrong.”

He let her pull him out of the airport, toward the car. “You can show me my painting.”

“Okay.”

“You can show me
all
my paintings,” he said and she laughed.

“You’ll have to torture them out of me.”

He smiled and said, “You’re right. That does sound very, very wrong.”

Delia had gone to console Rick, the English major barista, but he’d simply handed her a three-dollar coffee and said, “Oklahoma?”

Tomorrow, she’d get a one-dollar coffee.

Or maybe she could talk Jack into requisitioning a Keurig.

She blew a raspberry at herself when she realized he’d never go for it.

She sat and sipped, glancing at the clock a few times, waiting until she could go up and say good morning to Jack, dressed this time, and think about finishing his ceiling.

Maybe see how he felt about Delia doing the dining room ceiling while Catherine was in Oklahoma.

Delia blinked when a beautiful, poised bitch slid into the seat across from her.

Delia said, “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name.”

The smile on the woman’s face didn’t budge. “Diane. And you’re Delia?”

Delia nodded.

Diane said, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Catherine Bradlee.”

Delia smiled. “I bet.”

“You know Jack’s mother?”

“I’ve met her.”

“A wonderful woman. She’s had her share of tragedy.” Diane looked around the busy shop and said, “She doesn’t deserve any more.”

“Losing two husbands is enough for anyone.”

Diane looked back at her. “You don’t even know who Jack is, do you? He’s a Cabot. His mother is a Lowell. And that’s not even taking into account who she’s rumored to be. Who her father 
really
 was.”

Delia cocked her head, interested despite herself at some hint of a scandal. A scandal involving Catherine Lowell Cabot Bradlee? She couldn’t believe it.

“Who? Oh, never mind. I wouldn’t recognize the name anyway. I don’t know who the Lowells and Cabots and Bradlees are.”

“Exactly. You don’t know anything. You don’t know anybody. Jack can play with you all he wants but he knows he can’t have you. Jack always does what’s right.”

Delia’s heart froze. Jack always did what was good and right. No matter the personal cost. Delia knew that.

Diane said, “He’ll go into politics. Once he has enough money, enough contacts, he’ll move onto the board and then run for governor. Or the Senate. The presidency. It’s in his blood. It would be a tragedy if he lost all that because of you.”

The president? Of the United States?

And Delia could see it. Absolutely. Who wouldn’t vote for Jack? She hated everything about him– his money, his breeding, his beauty. Hated it and loved it, and she would vote for him. He’d always do what was right. He’d do what was hard and right.

Diane said, “He won’t be able to keep you. He can’t marry you; this engagement is bad enough. He needs a wife with money and connections herself to make it all the way. And as a mistress?” She shook her head. “Too much scandal for a perfect man.”

Delia had always known Jack wasn’t for keeping. She’d been seduced by the fire and it didn’t matter if they turned into ash or into steel when they emerged from the other side.

She couldn’t keep him. She hadn’t known that’s what she would want until some bitch told her she couldn’t have it.