Can't Buy Me Love (6 page)

He'd never been able to begin forgiving himself for how he'd proven those supposed friends wrong—and then had paid for his choices for two years, retreating behind a façade of reserve again.

Until he met Bellamy Hillman.

The trill of his doorbell pulled him off the bed.

Had his errant fiancée decided to come apologize? Try to talk things out?

When he opened his front door, his mother greeted him, Wiley sitting quietly at her feet, one brown ear standing at attention, one at half-mast.

“Good evening, son.” She kissed him on the cheek. As she walked past, the material of her purple scarf brushed silky-soft against his cheek. “I wasn't sure you'd be home. Not seeing Bellamy tonight?”

“No.” Reid's emotions deflated. “Not tonight.”

“Good—that gives us a chance to talk. It's your father's night to meet with the board, and I thought we could talk about the wedding.”

“And what if I hadn't been home?”

“Oh, then I would have just gone shopping.”

He switched between holding Wiley's leash and helping his mother out of her stylish tweed coat. “With Wiley?”

“Of course not. He would have waited in the car with Thomas.”

“I can only imagine the bonus Thomas gets to be both your driver and a dog-sitter.”

“Thomas enjoys Wiley.”

“I'm certain he does. And if he didn't, he's wise enough to never say so.”

She settled onto the couch, Wiley curling up next to her black pumps, resting his face on his crossed paws.

“For a mutt, he's well behaved.”

“If he wants to live in my house, he'd best be behaved. And he knows it.” His mother leaned forward to scratch the dog's ears. “He also knows I love him.”

Love could bring a dog to heel, apparently. And it could make a man think impetuosity was endearing, instead of seeing it for what it was: irresponsibility.

“Reid?”

He shook his head, refocusing on his mother. “I'm sorry, did you say something?”

“Yes. I said how much I enjoyed our time with Bellamy's family this past weekend.”

“There certainly are an awful lot of them.” He added a laugh onto the end of his statement.

“That's true. I have to admit that was my favorite part.”

“It was?”

“Yes. All the talking and the laughing and the . . . the energy. I always thought a large family would be exactly like that.”

“Noisy, you mean?”

“No. Fun.” His mother's assortment of gold bangle bracelets played a delicate chime as she clasped her hands together. “You forget I was an only child. And then your father was content with the ‘perfect pair,' as he called it. One son. One daughter. I told Barbara Hillman I just may have to adopt all of them into our family, not just Bellamy.”

He needed to stop his mother before she started planning holiday get-togethers with the Hillmans.

“Mom, I need to tell you something . . . something unexpected.”

“What is it, dear? Does Bellamy need to discuss any details? Honestly, I thought planning your wedding would be so much easier than planning Lydia's—”

“I . . . she . . . Bellamy gave me back her engagement ring.”

“Reid Bradford Stanton!” At the sound of his mother's sharp tone, Wiley sat up and looked around the room. What did he expect to see—a burglar? “Why on earth would she do that? You two are mad for each other.”

“Mad for each other.”
Honestly, sometimes his mother sounded like a character in a Katharine Hepburn movie.

“She was upset about something. . . . She overreacted and I . . . I didn't know what to say.”

“Stop being ridiculous. I saw you two at the barbecue—you're over the moon about her. What did you argue about? It doesn't matter. Send her a huge bouquet of flowers—don't even think of sending a plant—and apologize.”

Oh, sure. That's what he'd do. Flowers and an apology. And a blank check to cover Bellamy's financial faux pas.

“It's not that easy. We argued because Bellamy misspent our wedding budget by a rather large amount—”

“Well, I'm blessed!”

His mother's old-fashioned expression almost made Reid smile. Almost. Whenever she was shocked, she'd said
“Well, I'm blessed!”
ever since he was a little boy. Three little words to rein in her reaction to unwelcome news—everything from broken bones to failing grades.

“I'm afraid that wasn't my response.”

“I can understand your being upset, son. But you and Bellamy can work this out. It's only money, after all. And your father and I said we'd cover whatever expenses the Hillmans couldn't—”

“No!” His mother recoiled at his tone, causing him to soften his next words. “I mean, Bellamy and I understood that, but we would never take advantage of your and Dad's generosity.”

“Reid, we want to help with your wedding, just like we did with Lydia's—”

“Mother, she spent the money on a second wedding dress.”

She tilted her head to one side. “I don't understand. Bellamy told me that she had a dress—”

“According to Bellamy, her first one is too much like Lydia's wedding dress.”

“Well, not having seen it, I wouldn't know. But surely this is no reason to call off a wedding—”

“I love her, Mom—you know I do. But I had no idea she could be so . . . so careless about money. What else don't I know about her?”

“Let me ask you another question.” Even Wiley seemed to wait to hear what his mother would ask him, his furry face cocked to one side. “What else doesn't she know about you?”

His mother's reply caught him off-guard. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know very well what I mean—”

“That episode is all in my past—and this
issue
is obviously very much a part of who Bellamy is today. She didn't even discuss it with me before she bought the dresses. I mean, shouldn't a husband and wife talk about things like that?”

“But you and Bellamy aren't married yet—you're not husband and wife. And obviously there are some things you haven't discussed thoroughly. Which is why—” His mother rose to her feet, gathering Wiley's leash. “—I am going to leave now and give you a chance to call your fiancée.”

Reid followed his mother to the door. “She threw her ring at me.”

“Well, that was unwise. We can't have Bellamy tossing family heirlooms around. Call her and work things out—and get that ring back where it belongs. On Bellamy's hand.”

After his mother left, Reid retrieved Bellamy's ring from the top of his dresser. It was elegant in its simplicity. A brilliant one-carat oval diamond set off by smaller diamonds all around the circumference that seemed to glow with an inner light. His parents had always said the ring was his when he was ready to propose. It never crossed his mind he and Bellamy would break up.

How could he make this right? The error wasn't his—not this time—but still, he loved Bellamy. He wanted to marry her. And surely, now that she'd had some time to calm down, she'd be reasonable and accept his plan to secure their financial future.

Reid took his cell phone into his home office, settling into the chair behind his desk as he dialed Bellamy's number. She smiled at him from the framed engagement photograph taken in New York. This was in Central Park. Another sat on his office desk at the investment firm—the photograph taken when he'd knelt and proposed at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.

“Hello?” Bellamy's voice wobbled across the phone.

“Belle-love?”

A sniffle, followed by the sound of Bellamy clearing her throat. “Reid? Why are you calling me?”

“I wanted to talk—”

“Well, if you want to know how soon I can pay back your parents, I'm sorry I can't tell you.” Bellamy sniffed again. “But you can tell them I canceled everything I could think of—”

“You what?” Reid leaned forward, his feet hitting the floor with a thud, her words causing a cold shiver to course through him.

“I said I canceled the wedding. The florist, the caterer—”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why would I do that? Are you kidding me? You're the one who said getting married was a mistake . . . you're the one who said you couldn't trust me . . .”

“I didn't tell you to cancel the wedding, Bellamy.”

“Of course I canceled the wedding—there isn't going to be one, not when you tell me you made a mistake proposing to me. And now you can tell your parents they get . . . they get . . . oh, I can't remember how much money exactly, but they'll be getting money back from all the vendors.”

“That's not important—”

“That's not what you said after the family get-together. And I realize I still owe them for the dress I bought—canceling everything doesn't change that.”

“Bellamy, be reasonable.”

“That's the problem, isn't it? I just can't be
reasonable
. Nothing I do meets the Stanton standards. You're better off without me.”

“Bellamy, don't do this. I love—”

“Don't say it, Reid. Don't you dare say it!” She inhaled a shaky breath. “Because even if you do, I won't believe it.”

“Can't we talk this over?”

“There's nothing to talk about—unless you want to discuss putting me on an allowance again.”

Reid rested his forehead in the palm of his hand. “Can't you understand my side of things?”

“No, I can't. I guess neither of us understood the other as well as we thought we did.”

Silence stretched between them. What did she want him to say? She was the one who'd rushed ahead and started dismantling their wedding plans.

“I'll send your mother an itemized list of everything I've canceled—and an IOU for the dress. Good night.”

EIGHT

M
aybe it was time to give up.

Scrawl the word
FAILURE
in red Sharpie across the page of numbers she'd worked and reworked—and sign her name at the bottom.

Bellamy Hillman
, who
was not
becoming Bellamy Stanton, all because she'd recklessly bought an enchanted wedding dress.

She crumpled the paper and threw it across Elisabeth's living room just as her friend came back from the kitchen.

“Hey!” Her friend sidestepped the airborne paper projectile so that it hit the far wall and landed on the carpet. “Two glasses of soda here.”

“Sorry.” Bellamy retreated to the corner of the off-white couch. “It's hopeless.”

“What do you mean? We were making some headway when I left the room.” After handing Bellamy the sodas, Elisabeth retrieved the paper, smoothing it out on the sofa cushion. “You sell the wedding dresses—”

“I'll only get a fraction of what I paid for them.”

“We already discussed that. You won't get what you paid for them—the sites we saw on Pinterest explained that. No sense fighting reality. But you'll probably get a better price for the second dress than you will for the first.”

“Right. Paid more . . . hope I get more back.”

She'd be one of those women posting a wedding dress for sale with a
NEVER WORN
tag attached to it. Just the thought seemed to cause her heart to stutter.

“I know this is hard, Belle.” Elisabeth sipped her grape soda. “I can post them on the site for you.”

“No, I'll do it.” She deserved the penalty—it fit the crime. “You do have a life, Lis. I know you have school papers to grade.”

“I always have papers to grade—it's the life of a teacher. Let me do this. It's not like you have to do penance or something.” Elisabeth set the paper on the arm of the couch. “One of these days I'm going to invest in a coffee table. But for now, I'll write up the ad and you can okay it, and then I'll post it on that site we selected based on the great and powerful Oz's recommendations.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oz . . . Pinterest. Same thing.”

“Very funny.” Elisabeth's humor lightened the mood, if only for a moment. “But I got myself into this . . . you shouldn't have to bail me out.”

“It's not about bailing you out. It's about being your friend. So what about your car?”

“The Blue Book value is six thousand dollars for a Camry in good shape. So I think I could ask five thousand dollars—maybe get forty-five hundred.”

“Are you sure you want to sell your car? I mean, you've got to get to work . . .”

“Well, I would say I could ride in with my dad—but he's still awfully upset with me. He's barely talking to me.” Bellamy had lost her desire for the syrupy-sweet soda. “I was going to ask my mom if I could drive the old family van—”

“The van? Does that thing even run anymore?”

“I think so. I mean, it's been sitting out behind the clinic for years. I thought I'd try it and see.”

Elisabeth consulted the wrinkled piece of paper. “Okay, let's look at the numbers again. Say you get twenty-five hundred for gown number one . . .”

“Oh, Elisabeth, it's so beautiful!”

“We have to think conservatively, Bellamy. We know what you paid, but we have to realize women coming to these sites are looking for bargains. Now, gown number two . . . maybe fifteen thousand . . . so if you get four thousand for your car—”

“Forty-five hundred.”

“Four thousand for your car—then, hold on, let me add this up.” Elisabeth pulled her laptop closer. “That's twenty-one thousand, five hundred dollars. Not bad. Not bad at all.”

“But not enough.”

“Bellamy—it's a start.”

“I wish I hadn't done it, Elisabeth.” Bellamy ran her fingers through her hair again and again. She probably looked like a wild woman.

“I know you do. But I don't blame you for buying that wedding dress—you look so spectacular in it—”

“No, that's not it.” All the years of saying no when she should have said yes—of saying yes when she should have said no—seemed to rise up in her head and taunt her. “I wish I'd never said yes when Reid Stanton asked me out.”

“Oh, Belle—”

“What was I thinking?” Bellamy jumped up from the couch as if she could get away from herself. “There I was, getting all carried away because he was nice, bringing his mother's so-homely-he's-cute dog to the groomer. And talking to me. Smiling that smile of his that makes you forget what you want to say next because all you can think is,
God, why did you give this guy that much gorgeous?
”

“Belle—”

“And I'm thinking this guy is actually falling in love with me. Me!” Bellamy waved her hand up and down in front of herself. “The girl who clips dogs' toenails and cleans their ears. The girl who didn't finish college because, oh, sure, she graduated from high school early, but she couldn't decide on a major and crashed her GPA three semesters in. Ha! I fooled him long enough to get him to propose . . . but I bet he's thankful he figured out he couldn't trust me . . .”

Bellamy's voice trailed off into a choked sob.

“Oh, Lis, what am I going to do? Reid was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I still love him—and I wrecked it. I wrecked it over a stupid, stupid dress . . .”

• • • 

A crying jag chased with a watered-down glass of grape soda was no way to spend a Wednesday night—even if her best friend provided the shoulder to cry on.

The effects carried all the way over to the next evening and Bellamy welcomed the quiet of her carriage apartment. Work had included a white bichon frise that resisted being groomed and whined the entire session. Once home, Bellamy envisioned abandoning her worries on the doorstep. Maybe she could manage a decent night's sleep and pick them back up tomorrow morning on her way to work.

Dropping her purse on the chair right inside the front door, she shrugged out of her worn jean jacket, letting it fall beside her purse. She'd indulge in a long hot bath using her eucalyptus-spearmint bubble bath.

No more numbers.

Her car and one of her wedding gowns were posted for sale. Tomorrow . . . tomorrow she'd post the oh-so-magical dress.
Ha
. The only charm it had was to destroy her romance.

No.

She couldn't blame the dress for that. It was her fault—and what she thought she'd found in the gown.

What she thought she'd found with Reid.

A muffled ring sounded inside her purse, stalling her steps toward the escape into the bathroom. Maybe Elisabeth calling to report a sale already?

“Please tell me we got full price—”

“Hello, Bellamy. This is Ava Stanton. And I'm sorry to say I cannot answer that question.”

Bellamy stumbled to a stop in the hallway, one hand pressed against the wall. “Mrs. Stanton?”

“I do hope this is a convenient time to call.”

“Yes. I mean, I was just going to take a bubble bath—”

Oh, why did she just open her mouth and tell Reid's mother that?

“How lovely. I adore bubble baths. Do you know there are hotels with bubble bath concierges?”

“No, I didn't know that.”

“Yes—and there are soap concierges and fragrance butlers, too. But I didn't call to discuss hotel services.”

“No, ma'am.” Bellamy pressed her lips together, turning her back on the wide-eyed girl staring at her in the mosaic-tiled mirror at the end of the hall.

“I am sorry to say Reid told me that you and he ended your engagement.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Bellamy swallowed back the salty threat of tears.

“I was so looking forward to welcoming another daughter into our family. Not just any daughter, Bellamy. You.”

Mrs. Stanton was being gracious, as always. But for all her kindness, Reid's father was probably relieved.

“But I realize I cannot control my children's lives. Lydia marries a man who lives in England—and I'm happy for her. You and Reid decide you're not suited . . . well, I know better than to meddle. After all, you are both adults.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“There was one thing I did want to clarify—and that was about the charity auction.”

“T-the charity auction?” Bellamy pressed a hand to her forehead, where a dull pressure was beginning to build.

“Yes. The charity auction to benefit the children's hospital—I'm a longtime board member. I asked Reid to remind you about it after the engagement party. I'm sure you haven't forgotten.”

But she had. And surely Mrs. Stanton didn't expect her to still show up—

“Now, I realize you'll feel uncomfortable attending with the family, but I had another idea—”

“Mrs. Stanton—”

“My son mentioned something about two wedding gowns.”

Bellamy struggled to find the words to explain what she'd done. “I apologize for that. It was . . . such a foolish decision . . .”

“Well, I'm sure it wasn't your first—and it won't be your last.” A soft laugh sounded across the phone, but it contained no judgment. “Oh, my, if I shared some of the mistakes I made when I was first married . . . well, there's a time and a place for everything. Suffice it to say, Mr. Stanton ended up in the hospital once with a bad case of food poisoning thanks to my attempts to cook him Polynesian shrimp. Why do you think we have a chef?”

Her confession pulled a laugh from Bellamy. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. I also discovered it's possible to burn water, my dear—and the entire bottom off a copper pan.” Mrs. Stanton let silence stand between them for a few moments. “But back to the dresses. What have you done with them?”

“Well, I have one of them up for sale on an online site—the first one.”

“And the second?”

“I'm going to put it on the site soon . . .” When Bellamy closed her eyes it was as if she were wearing the dress again—the faint hint of electricity thrumming through her body. “I can't begin to describe how it made me feel. I wanted to wear it . . .”

“For Reid. I understand. I'd like to make another suggestion.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My son mentioned buying the second dress was a bit of a financial misstep.”

The skin on Bellamy's face scalded. “I'm so sorry . . .”

“The money was a gift, Bellamy. My husband and I aren't watching over your shoulders to see how you spend it.”

The dull ache now throbbed in Bellamy's temples. Her actions were all the worse that she'd taken advantage of a gift.

“But back to the dress. I'd like to suggest you donate it to the charity auction.”

Mrs. Stanton's request effectively brought the worries Bellamy had left outside her front door right back inside so that they breathed down her neck.

“What?”

“We're always looking for unusual items to auction off. We've never had a designer wedding gown—yours will be the first.”

“But if I donate it to the auction, I won't recoup the money I owe you.”

Reid's mother surprised her with another quicksilver laugh. “I assure you, whatever money you earn for the children's hospital will be of more value to me than paying back any debt you might owe my husband and me. Helping sick children is so much more important than a few thousand dollars between family, don't you think?”

“But I'm not family.”

“Well, then let's amend that statement to ‘between friends'—and hope we can remain that. Agreed?”

“I don't know what to say . . .”

“You say yes. Then we end this phone call so you can enjoy a nice long soak in the tub. All I ask is that you deliver the gown the night of the auction.”

“I-I—”

“Two weeks.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Good night, Bellamy.”

“Good night, Mrs. Stanton. And thank you.”

“Thank you, my dear.”