The Saint (10 page)

He opened his eyes wide. “Oh, my God.”

“Yes. It seemed okay at first, but by the fourth store they were like two tigers trapped in one cage. They couldn't agree on anything. It was pure insanity. Honestly, Kieran. Do you care whether I wear satin-edged lace or lace-edged satin?”

He gave her a twisted smile. “Hell, no.”

“Well, they do. Passionately.”

Chuckling, he put his hand out and captured hers.

“Come on in,” he said. “There's something I want to show you, and I'd like to be alone for once. I'll lock the door. Aurora helped a lot when my dad was sick, so she has a key. But there's a dead bolt I use for emergencies.”

Claire followed him into the house. Strange, she couldn't remember ever having been so passive in her life. But then she couldn't ever remember feeling so physically wiped out.

He positioned her under the crystal foyer chandelier and studied her face.

“Damn Aurora,” he said. “She ought to know better than to drag you around all day. You looked fine this morning, and now you're clearly exhausted again.”

“I'm okay,” she said. “I have a headache, that's all. Besides, Aurora doesn't have any reason to be
lieve I can't keep up with a seventy-five-year-old woman.” She smiled. “Remember, she doesn't know I'm pregnant.”

He took a deep breath. “I guess you're right. But I'll have to think of something to tell her. She can't be allowed to wear you out like this.”

It was nice, she thought, shutting her eyes against the painful stabbing light of the huge chandelier. Nice to have someone who wanted to protect you. Especially when your whole body seemed to be working against you. Nausea one minute, irrational tears the next. And always this sapping, head-to-toe lethargy.

“Come in here,” he said, taking her hand again and tugging her toward one of the adjacent rooms. “You look as if you're going to fall over any minute.”

He led her into the library, the kind of huge, cherry-wood-and-leather library seen in movies and books. Three walls had ceiling-to-floor, built-in shelves. The western wall held a long, red-cushioned window seat that looked out through a mullioned bay window onto a little bricked-in garden. The sunset was turning the garden crimson and gold.

“It's very beautiful,” she said.

“Thanks.” He glanced around the room as if he were trying to see it through her eyes. “It was my father's favorite room. He loved to read.”

Her mother had loved books, too. Buying books had been her one indulgence. When she died, Claire and Steve had counted them. She had owned one hundred. Not even enough to fill one shelf on one wall in this room.

“I meant to tell you,” Claire said. “I'm very sorry
about your father. I didn't realize he'd died so recently until someone mentioned it today.”

“Yes. It was less than four months ago. He was a difficult old tyrant, but I miss him a lot.”

Only four months? Then old Anderson McClintock had been gone just over a month when Kieran came to Richmond. For the first time Claire wondered if Kieran, too, might have been battling loneliness and loss that night.

“Sit down,” Kieran said gently. “I have something I want to give you.”

He pointed to a leather armchair that looked as if it still held his own body's imprint. She saw a book open, facedown, on the end table beside the chair.

Fair, Not Foolish: The Essential Prenuptial Planner.

Was that what he wanted to give her tonight—the prenuptial agreement? She didn't mind that. She had expected him to draw one up. She'd seen the speculation in John Gordon's eyes this morning, and she'd realized that any good lawyer would insist on it being done immediately. Kieran couldn't just take her word that she didn't want to rip him off. He had no idea whether her word was worth anything at all.

But this was almost too fast. Shouldn't they have talked over the custody situation first, and included all the details in one agreement?

She sat in the still-warm chair and waited while Kieran went over to the big cherry-wood desk and opened one of the top drawers. She shut her eyes, wishing her headache would go away long enough for her to think.

The details were important. She didn't want Kieran's real estate or his stocks, or his leather-bound
library, but she wanted her child. She wouldn't allow any cagey lawyer to slip in phrases that might compromise her custody situation.

She heard the drawer close.

“Here,” Kieran said. “I wanted to give you this. I picked it up in Grupton yesterday. It was among the things I keep in a bank over there.”

She opened her eyes. He was holding out a small velvet box. She felt stupid, but for a couple of seconds she couldn't take it in. She had been so sure it would be an envelope or a document.

“What is it?”

“Well, it's not a rattlesnake,” he said with a hint of laughter in his voice. “It's all right for you to touch it.”

She put out her hand and took it. She ran her fingertips over the soft scratchiness of the rounded velvet top. Finally, taking a bracing breath she hoped he wouldn't notice, she opened the box.

“Oh!” She almost dropped it. She'd never seen diamonds this beautiful in her life. She looked up at him. “Oh, Kieran. No.”

He raised one eyebrow and smiled slightly. “Why not?”

“It's too—too much. It's too expensive. For a marriage like ours, just a temporary arrangement, you don't need to—”

“You want this marriage to look real to the rest of the world, don't you?”

“Yes, but…”

“This is what I always planned to give the woman I married. Lots of people know that. Aurora, John Gordon, Roddy…just for starters. Even Linda Tremel knows, which means the whole town knows.”

“Well, couldn't we say that I didn't want it, that I wanted something—”

“No one would believe it. You see, this was my mother's wedding set. It's been sitting in a vault in Grupton for thirty years, waiting for this day.”

Oh, God, the tears were launching another surprise attack. She blinked hard and swallowed a large, jagged lump of them.

“I can't,” she said.

“Of course you can.” He reached over and took out the engagement ring. It was an exquisite, rainbowed diamond set in a small platinum band with delicate old-fashioned carvings on either side.

He picked up her left hand. “I think it will fit,” he said. “Let's see.”

The ring slipped on easily, but amazingly it didn't swim on her small finger. His mother must have been petite, too.

“It's perfect,” he said, holding her hand up and rotating the band back and forth to be sure it wasn't too tight. The diamond caught lights and tossed them everywhere. “Of course, I know the setting is dated. If you'd like something more modern, we can always reset it and—”

“No,” she said. “It's—it's perfect. But—”

“But what?”

What could she say? That she'd never once considered that he'd have to give her a ring? How dumb would that sound?

She had been so sure she'd thought the whole idea through completely. But she realized now that it was only the implications on
her
life that she'd anticipated down to the last detail.
His
life had been a
shadowy, out-of-focus piece of the puzzle that she hadn't really understood at all.

She suddenly felt a little bit ashamed.

“I'm sorry,” she said awkwardly. “I know this wasn't how you'd imagined using this ring. And I want you to know that I'll return it to you safely. When it's over, you don't need to worry, I'll make sure you get it back.”

He gave her a strange look. “Why? So that I can use it again next time? I don't think that's how it works, Claire.”

She stared at him, dismayed. Oh, what could she do? She couldn't wish the baby away. She'd tried that, in the first few days after she'd discovered she was pregnant. And she couldn't condemn her child to a confused life of fatherless illegitimacy just because she didn't have the courage to see this through.

But it was so much more complicated than she had ever imagined. Was there no way to remedy this that wouldn't create even more tragedy and heartbreak? She closed her eyes, feeling slightly sick all over again.

Kieran brushed her hair from her damp forehead. She looked at him helplessly. “I don't know what to do,” she said.

He took her hand and folded her fingers down over the little box. Then he touched the ring, which sparkled orange and violet in the fiery sunset that poured in through the bay window.

“I want you to keep it,” he said. “I know you won't want to wear it—after. But our child will grow up eventually, and then, when he is ready to get married, you can give it to him.”

She made a small sound, but Kieran tightened his hand.

“Or her,” he amended. His eyes were dark in the dying light, but Claire thought he was trying to smile. “It may take a few generations, but surely someday a McClintock will come along and get this love thing right.”

 

D
OING
M
RS
. T
REMEL'S LAWN
was the sweetest job Eddie had ever had.

She had told him not to worry about trimming the bushes and weeding the fancier gardens in the back. She still had a landscaping service that did all that, though they didn't do the mowing. That was kind of weird, but he wasn't complaining. All he had to do was mow and edge around the sidewalk, which was a snap.

What a swanky place! Eddie's father was just a regular dentist, not poor but hardly super-rich. Since most of Eddie's jobs were in his own neighborhood, a new, middle-class subdivision, he was used to scrawny trees and lumpy lawns that hadn't been leveled out that well when they went in.

Eddie hadn't really minded before. In fact, he hadn't even noticed. This was the first big break—his first house in the old-money Riverside Park.

He couldn't believe the difference.

The lawns here were so thick and smooth you could sleep on them. When you were mowing, you never ran over a dead spot that threw dirt up in your face. And these elm trees were bigger than the houses. Their leafy branches turned a hot, nasty job into a shady walk in the park.

He looked up and down the quiet street, at the long
lines of houses just like Mrs. Tremel's. Sure would be sweet if some of her neighbors would hire him, too.

He looked up and saw that Mrs. Tremel was standing on the front portico. He killed the gas on his edger and smiled at her politely.

“Hi, there,” she said. She was wearing nothing but a little blue bikini. She had been lying out by the pool when Eddie got there about an hour ago, and apparently she was just going to wear that all day.

“Hi,” he said. He wiped his face so he wouldn't look gross. He raked his fingers through his hair, which had an annoying way of sticking up in spikes whenever he sweated.

“I wondered if you'd like to take a break,” she said. “Maybe come in and have a cola.”

That was different, too. Some of his other customers put out a pitcher of water for him—they were nice people. But no one had ever invited him into the house. This was the second time in an hour that Mrs. Tremel had done it.

“I'd better keep going,” he said, smiling to show he still appreciated the offer. “I've got four more lawns to do, so…”

“You're absolutely amazing,” she said. “I honestly don't know how you keep it up. It's so darn hot today.”

She held a glass of clear liquid in one hand, and she rubbed it slowly against her neck. It dribbled a trail of condensation down into her cleavage. She was so fine. He couldn't believe a twenty-six-year-old divorcée—she'd told him how old she was—could be so damn hot.

“I guess it's because you're so young,” she said,
letting her gaze slide up and down his shirtless body. “And you're in such great shape.”

Eddie looked away, embarrassed that she was acting like this but getting kind of a thrill out of it, too.

It did occur to him, though, that the neighbors around here weren't very likely to take her advice about lawn boys. Or anything else. He wasn't so dumb he didn't know most of the Riverside Park people probably thought Mrs. Tremel was trashy. The people in his neighborhood thought so, too. Even Eddie's dad, who thought Eddie should mow lawns 24/7, hadn't been very happy when he heard about this new job.

“Yeah, well…” He shifted the edger nervously. “It's not that hard.”

She smiled with sleepy eyes, kind of like a cat. “Really? It sure
looks
hard.”

Oh, man…
He fought the urge to glance down at his shorts. But he felt kind of hot-faced and flustered. A little bit angry, even. Why was she playing with him like this? He was seventeen, for God's sake. He got turned on when Binky Potter leaned over to pick up a pencil in math. If Mrs. Tremel was going to come out here half-naked and start rubbing that glass all over herself, what did she expect?

Or was he imagining the whole thing? She'd probably laugh if she realized he thought she was coming on to a teenager.

Still. It felt weird. He had no idea what to say now.

He never thought he'd be happy to see Cullen Overton, but this time the sight of Cullen's fire-engine-red BMW coming down the street was as welcome as a reprieve from the governor.

Cullen pulled to a stop in front of the house. “Hey,
Mackey,” he called. “You got something for me or what?”

Eddie glanced toward the house, but Mrs. Tremel had disappeared into its cool depths. She'd left a Coke on the banister.

“Yeah, I've got it,” Eddie said. “Can't you wait till later? It's in my car.”

“Your car?” Cullen climbed out of the BMW and pretended to search the vicinity with a confused gaze. Finally he stopped at Eddie's Ford. “Oh, that. I thought that was your mom's car.”