Authors: Janelle Taylor
Dying To Marry (9 page)
“That witch!” Holly said, outraged. “How dare she!”
“I told her I preferred the dress in her window,” Lizzie said, “and repeated that I wanted to try it on. Bettina told me I'd need an appointmentâand that it was customary for only brides-to-be to try on her gowns.”
Holly's mouth fell open to the table.
“And then she said,
âAnd I don't see a diamond ring on any of your fingers, Lizzie
.'”
âAnd I don't see a diamond ring on any of your fingers, Lizzie
.'”
Holly gasped. “And we're going there tomorrow morning to shop for dresses?”
“It's where my dream dress is, Holly,” Lizzie explained. “Believe me, if Flea's shop sold wedding gowns or bridesmaids dresses, I'd only shop there. But Flea doesn't do bridal, so I'm going with my dream dress at Bettina's.”
“That witch doesn't deserve your patronage!” Holly complained.
“Am I supposed to cut off my nose to spite my face?” Lizzie responded. “Not go to the best shop in the county because the woman who owns it is a jerk? Or am I supposed to get the dress of my dreams, which is in that shop, and the hell with Bettina?”
Holly had to ponder that one.
“Do I let Bettina win by not buying the dress I really want?” Lizzie asked. “No way.”
“I don't know, Lizzie. I guess when you put it like that, you do lose by not going to Bettina's. I never thought of it that way.”
“Oh, Holly,” Lizzie said, “there are a lot of ways to think about these things. If I reacted to every slight, I'd never be able to leave my house or Down Hill.”
Every slight? Bettina had done more than slight Lizzie. And in any case, was this a way to live, to put up with “slights”?
“Hol, Bettina's comeuppance is being forced to fuss and fawn and wait on us hand and foot,” Lizzie said with a smile. “So eat up, Cousin. You'll need your strength for trying on bridesmaid dresses tomorrow morning.”
Holly wasn't so sure it was comeuppance enough for Bettina, but it was something. “Let's drive Bettina crazy,” Holly suggested. “Constantly change our minds and demand different sizes!”
Lizzie cracked up. “Definitely.” She clinked her lemonade glass against Holly's.
“You two stop chattering and eat!” Lizzie's mom scolded. “I have two more helpings for each of you waiting to get in your tummies.”
Holly laughed and dug in, the delicious comfort food doing its job.
I can learn a lot from Lizzie
, Holly thought again.
If only I could brush things off,
she thought.
If only I could stop worrying!
, Holly thought again.
If only I could brush things off,
she thought.
If only I could stop worrying!
But she couldn't. After she'd stormed out of Jake Boone's office an hour ago, she'd walked back to Lizzie's, determined to find the person responsible for the “incidents” and the pile of dirt. With or without Jake's help.
Probably without
, she thought, absently pushing around macaroni and cheese on her plate.
, she thought, absently pushing around macaroni and cheese on her plate.
Why does it have to be so complicated?
she wondered.
He was once my dearest friend, for so many years, and then one misconstrued comment andâ
she wondered.
He was once my dearest friend, for so many years, and then one misconstrued comment andâ
Had he misconstrued what she'd said? Or had she said exactly what she meant, exactly what he'd heard?
He represents everything I'm leaving. He's the last man on earth I'd ever marry!
She hadn't meant it. Not a word of it. She'd simply been determined to ignore her feelings for him.
Because I did love you, Jake Boone. Oh, how I loved you. But you were set on staying in Troutville, proving yourself, not letting anyone dictate how you felt or where you lived, and I wanted to hightail it away the moment I could.
“Will you excuse me for a moment, Lizzie?” Holly asked. Lizzie nodded and began chatting animatedly with several of the regulars she knew well, as Holly walked as normally as she could to the ladies' restroom, where she slid down on the cool tile, covered her face with her hands and cried.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I'm nothing and I'm never gonna be nothing else, so what's the point, Jake?”
As sixteen-year-old Jimmy Morgan crossed his arms against his chest and kicked at the curb in front of Dunhill Mansion, Jake glanced at his watch and hoped Dylan would make an appearance soon. Jake and Dylan had promised to take Jimmy to a free rock concert in a neighboring town, and if Dylan didn't show up in one minute, they'd have to leave without him. Despite his excitement for the concert, Jimmy was down on himself again, and Jake could use Dylan's help in boosting him up.
It had been Dylan who'd suggested several years ago that he and Jake donate their time to the River County Boys' Club, which had been founded fifty years ago by Dylan's grandfather, who'd been rebellious and surly and about to run away from home until he'd discovered an informal basketball “team” that showed up to play every Saturday, all players welcome. The team and the mix of adults and teens from all walks of life whose seemingly only common thread was a love of basketball, had changed Rockwell Dunhill's life, and he'd opened the free club so that all teens would have somewhere to turn. Jimmy, who'd done time in a juvenile center for property damage and fighting, had begun turning up a few months ago, and Jake and Dylan, who volunteered at the center on Wednesday nights, had slowly befriended the teenager, mostly through their basketball playing ability. Dylan was the better player, and when Jimmy found out that Dylan was a Dunhill, he'd been enamored of him ever since. That a Dunhill could be “so cool” and speak to him like he was a person had made quite an impact on Jimmy. With Jimmy's single mother's permission, Jake and Dylan took Jimmy to special events a couple times a month, and his attitude had begun improving immensely.
“Jimmy, you can do anything you want,” Jake told the boy. “I'm proof of that. It's all up to youânot the amount of money you haveâor don't have. Not your past. Not anything. You always have the power to change your future. Your present.”
“Jenny Johnson doesn't think so,” Jimmy said.
“Who's Jenny Johnson?” Jake asked, suddenly understanding where Jimmy was coming from. There was a girl involved.
“She's only the prettiest, nicest, smartest girl in school,” Jimmy said. “But she'd never go out with me. She's Up Hill, and I'm not, and that's that.”
“Bull,” Jake said. “How do you know all this if you haven't asked her out?”
“Like I need to?” Jimmy said. “She'd never go for me. She never talks to me.”
“Let me ask you something,” Jake said. “Do you catch her looking at you a lot?”
Jimmy nodded. “All the time. Because she thinks I'm scum.”
Jake smiled. “No, Jimmy. Because she likes you. A woman can say or do anything she wants, but if you find her looking at you a lot, you can count on the fact that she's very interested in you.”
“Really?” Jimmy asked, his face brightening.
Jake nodded, and Jimmy bit his lip and dropped his arms. The boy hopped onto the hood of Jake's car and leaned back, his arms behind his head on the windshield. “She's really something. Really smart.”
“Smart is good,” Jake agreed.
“When she answers questions in English class,” Jimmy said, “you can tell she's really read the book, really cared, you know?”
“I know what you mean,” Jake said, suddenly thinking back ten years before to Holly in English class, passionately discussing
Romeo and Juliet
and how unfair it all was that two people who loved each other should be kept apart because of reasons that had nothing to do with them.
Romeo and Juliet
and how unfair it all was that two people who loved each other should be kept apart because of reasons that had nothing to do with them.
He also remembered the way he'd catch Holly looking at him. He'd glance upâin class, in the park, at their houses, whereverâand he'd be surprised to find her staring at him. Sometimes, they would be staring at each other and it would take a few seconds before one of them realized it and glanced away uncomfortably. She had to know how much he loved her; it was in everything he said and did. But he didn't know if she loved him, so he was never sure how to express his feelings.
He shook his head at how silly he'd been then; he should have just walked right up to her and told her how he felt, but back then, he couldn't.
And for good reason,
he thought. Because it turned out she hadn't loved him, not at all.
he thought. Because it turned out she hadn't loved him, not at all.
So who was he to tell Jimmy Morgan that this Jenny girl was interested just because she checked him out a lot? If Jimmy accepted what Jake had to say and declared his feelings to the girl and she rejected him, it could do serious damage to Jimmy's shaky self-confidence.
A girl liking you or not liking you has nothing to do with self-confidence, he amended. You accepted that she didn't, and you hurt and you moved on.
The way you moved on, Boone?
he asked himself. In ten years he hadn't felt about a woman the way he'd felt about Holly. He'd dated, he'd had lovers, he'd had some short-term relationships. But no one had ever captured his heart the way Holly had.
he asked himself. In ten years he hadn't felt about a woman the way he'd felt about Holly. He'd dated, he'd had lovers, he'd had some short-term relationships. But no one had ever captured his heart the way Holly had.
It was strange that she still had the power to affect him so strongly. This afternoon, in his office, it was all he could do to keep from reaching across his desk to touch her silky hair, to feel her hand in his, to come up with some excuse to hug her just so he could be that close to her.
But there was no excuse to hug her and he was sure there never would be.
He'd dropped by Lizzie's a couple of hours ago to make sure she was all right and to have a look at the dirt and the note. And to make sure that Holly wasn't off investigating on her own, not that there was much to go on. Lizzie had assured him that Holly was safe and sound upstairs, taking a nap, and then she'd told him the same thing Holly had about coming home to find the dirt pile.
The note was typedâcomputer printed like the others. Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that indicated the computer was a special kind or the printer had some quirk that might lead to the culprit. He'd questioned the neighbors, hoping someone had spotted the person going in or out of Lizzie's house, but no one had.
Dammit, who was it? He'd made a wild list of suspects, anyone who disliked Lizzie Morrow or the idea of the Dunhill-Morrow union. The list was long.
“Someone's waving at you,” Jimmy said, jerking up his chin toward Dunhill Mansion's stately porch.
Jake glanced up at the house to find Dylan's mother, Victoria Dunhill, with gardening shears in one hand and her Boston terrier in the other.
“Is she going to kill the dog with the shears?” Jimmy asked.
Jake swatted the boy's shoulder with the
Troutville Gazette
, but couldn't hide his smile. “My guess is that she's going to trim the hedges.”
Troutville Gazette
, but couldn't hide his smile. “My guess is that she's going to trim the hedges.”
Jimmy was incredulous. “Herself?”
“Yes, herself.”
“But doesn't she have a gardener?” Jimmy asked. “She could pay someone to do it.”
“She could pay someone to do it, but she enjoys gardening.”
Jimmy glanced around the manicured grounds. “I'd like to be rich enough someday to do things I like even though I could pay someone to do them for me.”
“Like what?” Jake asked.
“Like wash my Harley-Davidson motorcycle,” Jimmy said. “I'm gonna have one someday, and I'm going to take care of it myself.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jake responded, waving at Victoria Dunhill as she started down the walkway, the dog trailing after her. “Hello, Mrs. Dunhill,” he called out. “Have you seen Dylan?”
“No,” she said, her silver bob not moving as she shook her head. “But then again, he's not exactly pleased with me today, so he might be keeping his distance.”
Jake had learned a long time ago that you never had to pry for more information; if you just listened, people generally told you everything you wanted to know. And, he'd gotten to know Victoria Dunhill pretty well over recent years. She was a talker. It was one of the reasons she was so far down his list of suspects of who was trying to scare Lizzie out of the marriage. If Victoria had paid someone to scare Lizzie's bridal party or dump a pile of dirt on her bed, the woman would surely discuss it at length to anyone who would listen.
“I made one small comment about Lizbeth,” Victoria went on, as Jake knew she would, “and Dylan got all upset. He's so touchy these days.”
Victoria refused to refer to Lizzie as Lizzie, which bothered Dylan enough as it was.
Mrs. Dunhill let out a harrumph. “All I said was that I hoped she'd take me up on my offer to treat for a makeover for her wedding and get rid of that garish makeup and big hair. And he insisted he liked Lizzie exactly as she was and huffed and puffed as though I insulted the girl!”
“Well, you did,” Jimmy muttered under his breath.
“Come, Louis,” she cooed to her dog. “Let's go trim the rosebushes.” She turned to Jake. “Bye, dear. If you do see Dylan, please talk some sense into him about his moodiness lately. It's really unbecoming. If he acts that way at the engagement party, perhaps he should rethink his choice in his bride. She's clearly not making him happy. Come, Louis. Stop dawdling!”
As Mrs. Dunhill walked around the lawn to the backyard, Louis scampering after her, Jimmy jumped off the car with a grin. “It's most unbecoming, Louis!” Jimmy repeated in an upper-crust accent before doubling over with laughter. “Stop dawdling this minute, Louis!”
Jake couldn't help but laugh, too. “She treats that dog like he's one of her children.”
Jimmy snorted. “More like she treats her children like
they're
dogs instead of people with minds of their own. I would've liked to have been a fly on the wall when Dylan told Mother Dearest he was marrying Lizzie.”
they're
dogs instead of people with minds of their own. I would've liked to have been a fly on the wall when Dylan told Mother Dearest he was marrying Lizzie.”
Jake glanced at Jimmy; he was often surprised at how perceptive the teenager was, how much he took in, how much he understood about the people around him. “I'm sure she was delighted that her son is in love and found the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with,” Jake said, shooting Jimmy a gently disapproving look.
“Ha. Like Queen Dunhill wants a Down Hill daughter-in-law,” Jimmy said.
Jimmy was right on the mark about that, but Jake wasn't about to get into the Dunhills' private affairs with the boy. Jake had been there when Dylan told his mother that he and Lizzie were marrying. Not in the same room, but just outside. The night before Dylan and Lizzie planned to tell Mrs. Dunhill of the engagement, Dylan had asked Jake if he'd mind feigning some reason to meet with his mother around noon. Dylan figured that if his mother flipped out about the engagement, Jake, who Mrs. Dunhill adored and trusted, would be there to calm her down, talk some sense into her.
She
had
flipped.
had
flipped.
While Jake did some paperwork in the library just outside Mrs. Dunhill's office, Dylan and Lizzie sat across from Mrs. Dunhill and told her the news.
First, though, he'd had to introduce Lizzie. It was the first time the two women had met.
“You're introducing me to your
intended
?” Mrs. Dunhill had asked, rising from her imperial desk chair behind her huge mahogany desk. “You are planning to marry a woman in three weeks whom you have never introduced to your own family?”
intended
?” Mrs. Dunhill had asked, rising from her imperial desk chair behind her huge mahogany desk. “You are planning to marry a woman in three weeks whom you have never introduced to your own family?”
“I wouldâ” Dylan started to say.
“Dylan,” his mother interrupted, “for a young man with a good head on his shoulders, you clearly haven't thought this through. If I didn't even know you were dating this ... young woman, how is it possible you've been dating long enough to
marry
?”
marry
?”
“Mrs. Dunhill,” Lizzie said, her voice warm and strong, “first let me say that it is so nice to meet you. I've heardâ”
“I'm sure you're a very nice person, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Dunhill interrupted. “Howeverâ”
“Actually, my real name is Lizbeth, not Elizabeth,” Lizzie said cheerfully. “No one's ever called me Lizbeth, though. I go by Lizzie.”
Mrs. Dunhill eyed Lizzie. “Well, Lizbeth, as I was saying, I'm sure you're a lovely girl, but what could you possibly have in common with Dylan? You're from two different worlds. Why not continue dating, if you enjoy each other's company, but leave marriage to the right people for you. I'm sure there's a wonderful young man waiting for you. Why, just the other day, when my car broke down on Troutville Plaza, a very handsome mechanic came to help. He wasn't wearing a ring andâ”
Dylan stood up. “Mother! That's enough.”
Lizzie hadn't said anything.
“I just meantâ” Mrs. Dunhill said, affecting innocence.
“We know what you âjust meant,'” Dylan snapped. “And I'm going to tell you right now that I will not stand for it. I love Lizzie, she loves me, and we're getting married. We kept our relationship a secret to avoid everyone's comments and opinionsâwe didn't want the negativity we knew would come our way to have any effect on us, on how we feel about each other.”
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