White Lace and Promises (15 page)

“Maybe tomorrow,” she said, stepping onto her tiptoes to kiss him good-bye. There was barely enough time to do everything she had to and be ready for dinner with his parents that evening.

A minute later, Glenn was out the door. The condo seemed an empty shell without him. Maggie wandered into the kitchen with her list of errands, then poured a cup of coffee and carried it to the round table. She pulled out a chair and sat, drawing her legs under her. The first place she needed to stop was the bank to sign the forms that would add her name to the checking
account. When she was there, Glenn had asked her to make a deposit for him.

She glanced at the front page of the paper he had left on the table and worked the crossword puzzle, then finished her coffee and dressed. The day held purpose. If she was going to see his parents, it might not be a bad idea to find someplace where she could have her hair done.

With a jaunty step, Maggie found the deposit envelope Glenn had mentioned on the top of his desk. The room emanated his essence, and she paused to drink it in. As she turned, Maggie caught a glimpse of a frame sticking above the rim of his wastepaper basket.
What an unusual thing to do to a picture
, she thought. As an artist, her sense of indignation rose until she lifted the frame from out of the basket and saw the multitude of small pictures with faces smiling back at her. Her breath came to an abrupt halt and the room crowded in on her, pressing at her with a strangling sensation.
So this was Angie
.

T
he first thought that came to Maggie was how beautiful Angie was. With thick, coffee-dark hair and intense brown eyes that seemed to mirror her soul, Angie had the ethereal look of a woman meant to be cherished, loved, and protected. There was an inner glow, a delicate beauty to her that Maggie could never match. Angie was a woman meant to be loved and nurtured. It was little wonder that Glenn loved her. One glance at the woman who claimed his heart told Maggie that by comparison she was a poor second.

The frame contained a series of matted pictures that had obviously been taken over a period of several months. There was Angie on a sailboat, her windblown hair flying behind her as she smiled into the camera; Angie leaning over a barbecue, wearing an apron that said
KISS THE COOK
; Angie standing, surrounded by floral bouquets, in what looked like a flower shop, with her arms outstretched as though to signal this was hers. And more … so much more. Each picture revealed the rare beauty of the woman who claimed Glenn’s heart.

A sickening knot tightened Maggie’s stomach, and she placed a hand on her abdomen and slowly released her breath. Although most of the photos were of Angie alone, two of them showed Glenn and Angie together. If recognizing the other woman’s inner and outer beauty wasn’t devastating enough, then the happiness radiating from Glenn was. Maggie had never seen him more animated. He seemed to glow with love. In all the years Maggie had known Glenn, she had never seen him look more content. He was at peace with his world, and so in love that it shone like a polished badge from every part of him. In comparison, the Glenn who had arrived in San Francisco was a sullen, doleful imitation.

Pushing the hair off her forehead, Maggie leaned against a filing cabinet and briefly closed her eyes. As early as the night before, she’d thought to banish Angie’s ghost from their marriage. She had been a fool to believe it would be that easy. With a feeling of dread, she placed the frame back where she’d found it. Building a firm foundation for their marriage wasn’t going to be easy, not nearly as easy as she’d thought. But then, nothing worthwhile ever was. Maggie loved her husband. Physically, he wanted her, and for now that would suffice. Someday
Glenn would look at her with the same glow of happiness that Angie evoked. Someday his love for her would be there for all the world to witness. Someday …

Glancing at her wristwatch, Maggie hurried from the bathroom into the bedroom. In a few hours she and Glenn were having dinner with his parents, Charlotte and Mel, people she’d known and liked all her life. Family friends, former neighbors, good people. Yet Maggie had never been less sure of herself. Already she had changed outfits twice. This one would have to do, she decided. There wasn’t time to change her mind again. As she put the finishing touches on her makeup, Maggie muttered disparaging remarks over the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose; wanted to know why her lashes couldn’t be longer and her mouth fuller. Mentally, she had reviewed her body: Her breasts looked like cantaloupes, her hips like a barge; her legs were too short, her arms too long. Maggie could see every imperfection. Finally, she had been forced to admit that no amount of cosmetics was going to make her as lovely as Angie. She had to stop thinking of Charlotte and Mel as the mother- and father-in-law who would compare her to their son’s first choice. She had to force herself to remember them instead as the friends she knew they were.

Perhaps if she’d had more time to prepare mentally for this dinner, she thought defensively. As it was, the list of errands had taken most of the day, and Maggie had been grateful to have something to occupy her time and her mind. Instead of concentrating on being bright and witty for her meeting with Glenn’s parents, her thoughts had returned again and again to the discarded series of photographs. If she had found those photos, she reasoned, then there were probably other pictures around. The realization that Angie could be a silent occupant of the condominium was an intolerable conjecture.

When Glenn had walked in the door that afternoon and kissed her, Maggie had toyed with the idea of confronting him with the pictures. Sanity had returned in the nick of time. He had obviously intended to throw them away, but surely he must have realized that she would stumble upon them. Maybe it was cowardly of her, but Maggie had decided to ignore the fact that the pictures were in the other room, and pretended she hadn’t seen them. For the first time since their marriage, things were going right, and she didn’t want to ruin that.

“Maggie, are you ready?” Glenn sauntered into the bedroom and hesitated when he saw her. “I thought you were wearing a blue dress.”

“I … was,” she answered slowly, turning and squaring her shoulders. “Do I look all right?”

“You’re lovely.” He placed a hand on each of her shoulders. “Maggie, I wish you’d stop worrying. Mom and Dad are going to be thrilled for us.”

“I know.” Absently, she brushed her hand across the skirt of her black-and-red-print dress and slowly released her breath. “I’ve always been Muffie to them, and I’m … I’m not sure they’ll be able to accept me as your wife.”

Glenn’s chuckle echoed through the bedroom. “Maggie, how can they not accept you? You’re my wife. Mother’s been after me for years to marry and settle down. She’ll be grateful I finally took the plunge.”

“That’s encouraging,” she mumbled sarcastically. “So you were desperate to placate your mother and decided I’d do nicely as a wife. Is that supposed to reassure me?”

The muscles of his face tightened and a frown marred his wide brow as he dropped his hands to his sides. “That’s not true and you know it.”

Ashamed, Maggie lowered her head and nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. My stomach feels like a thousand bumblebees have set up camp. Even my hands are clammy.” She held them out, palms up, for him to inspect. “Wait until we visit my parents, then you’ll know how I feel.”

Slipping an arm around her waist, Glenn led her into the living room. “If you’re worried, stick to my side and I’ll answer all the questions.”

“I had no intention of leaving your side,” she returned, slightly miffed.

A faint smile touched his mouth.

The ride to Glenn’s parents’ did little to settle her nerves. Maggie thought she would be glad when this evening was over. When Glenn turned off the main road and into a narrow street lined with family homes, Maggie tensed. Two blocks later he slowed and turned into a concrete driveway.

Before Maggie was out of the car the front door opened and Mel and Charlotte Lambert were standing on the wide porch. Maggie was surprised by how little they’d changed. Glenn’s father’s hair was completely gray now and his hairline had receded, but he stood proud and
broad-shouldered, just as Maggie remembered him. Glenn’s mother was a little rounder, and wearing a dress. As a child, Maggie knew she was always welcome in the Lamberts’ kitchen. Charlotte had claimed it was a pleasure having another woman around since she lived with a house full of men. Maggie had dropped over regularly when Dale, the youngest Lambert, was born. She had been at the age to appreciate babies and had loved to help feed and bathe him.

“Muffie!” Charlotte exclaimed, her bright eyes shining with genuine pleasure. “What a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you were in town.”

Glenn joined Maggie and draped his arm around her shoulders as he boldly met his parents’ gaze. To be honest, he had been dreading this confrontation himself. His parents would be pleased for him and Maggie, and would do their best to hide their shock. But his father was bound to say something about Angie when they had a private moment. He might even suspect that Glenn had married on the rebound. He hadn’t. Glenn tried not to think of Angie and ignored the nip of emotional pain associated with her name. His parents had loved her and encouraged him to marry her. Their disappointment had been keen when he told them she’d married Simon.

“Are you visiting from California?” Charlotte asked with a faint tinge of longing. “I do miss that old neighborhood. If we had a hundred years, we’d never find any better place to raise our family.” Taking Maggie by the elbow, she led her into the house. “What’s the matter with us, standing on the porch and talking when there’re plenty of comfortable chairs inside?”

Maggie tossed a pleading glance over her shoulder to Glenn, hoping he wouldn’t leave the explaining to her.

The screen door closed with a bang as they entered the house. The small living room managed to hold a recliner, a sofa, and an overstuffed chair and ottoman. In addition, a rocking chair sat in one corner. The fireplace mantel was lined with pictures of the three sons and the grandchildren.

“Mom, Dad,” Glenn began, his expression sober as he met their curious faces. His arm slipped around Maggie as he stood stiffly at her side. He didn’t know any better way to say it than right out. “Maggie is my wife. We’ve been married nearly two weeks.”

“Married? Two weeks?” Charlotte echoed in a stunned whisper.

Mel Lambert recovered quickly and reached across the room to pump Glenn’s hand. “Congratulations, son.” Cupping Maggie’s shoulders, he gently kissed her cheek. “Welcome to the family, Muffie.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was both weak and weary. This was worse than she’d thought. Glenn’s mother stood with a hand pressed over her heart and an absurd look of shock written across her face, which she was trying desperately to disguise.

“You two … are married,” Charlotte whispered, apparently having recovered. “This is wonderful news. Mel, you open that bottle of wine we’ve been saving all these years and I’ll get the goblets.” Within seconds, they had both disappeared.

Glenn took Maggie’s hand and led her to the sofa, where they both sat. “See, I told you it wouldn’t be so bad.” His hand squeezed hers and his eyes smiled confidently into hers. He smoothed a strand of hair from her temple with his forefinger in a light caress.

“How can you say that?” she hissed under her breath. “Your mother nearly fainted.” To further her unease, she could hear hushed whispers coming from the kitchen. The barely audible word
rebound
heightened the embarrassed flush in Maggie’s red cheeks. She pretended not to hear, as did Glenn.

Glenn’s handsome face broke into a scowl. It was a mistake not to have said something to his parents earlier. His better judgment had prompted him to tell them. But he had made such an issue of the necessity of Maggie and him confronting them together that he couldn’t very well change plans. Informing his parents of their marriage had been what it took to get Maggie to join him in Charleston, and he would never regret that.

Mel and Charlotte reappeared simultaneously. Charlotte carried four shining crystal goblets on a silver tray, and Mel had a wine bottle and corkscrew in one hand.

“Before leaving California,” Mel explained as he pulled open the corkscrew, “Charlotte and I took a drive through the Napa Valley and bought some of the finest wines available. That was thirteen years ago now, and we only open those bottles on the most special occasions.”

“Let me see, the last time we opened our California wine was …” Charlotte paused, and a network of fine lines knitted her face as she concentrated.

Glenn tensed, and his hand squeezed Maggie’s so tightly that she almost yelped at the unexpected pain. Gradually, he relaxed his punishing grip, and Maggie realized that the last special occasion in the Lambert family had been shared with Angie and Glenn.

“Wasn’t it when Erica was born?” Mel inserted hastily.

“No, no,” Charlotte dismissed the suggestion with an impatient wave of her hand. “It was more recent than that … I think it was …” Flustered, she swallowed and reached for a
wineglass to hide her discomfort. “I do believe you’re right, dear, it was when Erica was born. It just seems more recent is all.”