Married by June (14 page)

She leaned down and turned the page. “These guys are still together. For now.”

Another page. “Divorce. Divorce. Together.” She flipped faster through the book, her entire career flying by in bright colors.

“What are you doing, Jorie?”

She snapped the binder shut. “I did fifty-four weddings in nine years and close to half of the couples are already divorced.”

“You’re not a marriage counselor, Jorie. You’re a wedding planner.”

“But is this what I’m going to spend my life doing? Working with these people, giving them a dream day when maybe they shouldn’t be getting married at all? I mean, people called me the wedding whisperer. It’s because I get it. I get them wanting that perfect day because my mom wanted it so much.”

“You give them a gift,” he said. “You can’t predict what will happen later.”

“I don’t have to predict. I know what will happen later. They track divorce statistics. It’s not like these numbers are a surprise.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I don’t want to devote myself to
moments,
Coop. I want to do something that matters.” Jorie dropped the binder into a bucket of silk flowers and ribbon samples. “I want something real.”

She spent the rest of the evening emptying her office. Cooper offered to help, but she told him it was something she’d rather do herself. She salvaged what she could to donate to charity and the rest went into green garbage bags or recycling. When she was
finished, the office was completely empty, every shelf had been wiped down and the wood surfaces polished. She could go in there tomorrow and start a new business or she could see about moving a chair and a lamp in and creating a reading nook. Whatever she wanted, the space was hers again. She just had to fill it.

“H
EY
, J
ORIE.”
Theo opened the door to Cooper’s apartment and let her in. “You ready for Operation Meet the Family?”

She set the shopping bags down inside the door. “What?”

“Cooper said we’re not allowed to talk about the super secret meeting with Deb. He thinks his dad is more hooked in than the CIA and he’s going to swoop in with the black SUVs and stop it if he finds out we’re talking about it. He only agreed to let you guys go if you kept it completely off the radar.”

Cooper came out of the bedroom. “You’ll get chucked in the black SUV, Theo. Jorie, he’ll probably just kill. She’s non-essential.”

“Thanks, Cooper,” Jorie said.

“Hey, you’re essential to me.” Cooper kissed her. “But I’m not the one with the black SUVs.”

Theo flopped into a recliner and spun it so he was facing the TV where a baseball game was in progress.

“Stop trying to scare Jorie. Your dad drives a Cadillac.”

Cooper put his arms around her waist and pulled her in close. He kissed her again and then murmured, “He’s got tinted windows, though.” His lips were warm and inviting. “Very shady.”

Theo turned the game up. “You won’t have to worry about Nolan because the vice squad will be on your butts if you don’t quit making out in public.”

Cooper ran one hand through her hair as he kissed her again. “You treat this place like a hotel, but it’s actually my apartment, remember, Theo?”

Theo groaned. “You could have pity on me. Your dad told me I can’t date until January. You were a smart man to get engaged when you did.”

Jorie stepped back. She hated being reminded of their arrangement.

“He’s an idiot, you know that.”

“I know,” she said. “But we should go.” She raised her voice. “Theo, are you ready?”

“I’m not allowed to go,” he said. “Nolan’s worried I’ll get spotted with the sinners and tarred with the same brush.”

“Well, what about you?” she asked Cooper.

“Different rules for the appointee and the candidate, Jorie,” he said. “Wait one sec.”

He jogged back into his bedroom, and when he
reappeared he was carrying a stuffed lamb with a pink satin ribbon around its neck.

“Is that Lamby?” Theo asked.

“Not
the
Lamby,” Cooper said. “It’s a brand new, clean, with working musical parts Lamby II.”

“Who’s Lamby?” Jorie asked.

“Cooper’s only friend when he was little.”

“Bite me.” He held the lamb out to Jorie. “Wind it up. It plays ‘Danny Boy.’”

She wound the silver handle planted in the lamb’s side and, sure enough, a tiny metallic-sounding version of “Danny Boy” played. “You had a lamb like this when you were a kid?”

“I guarantee he’s still got it, Jorie. You should check under his pillow.”

“Mock all you want, Theo. I’m not ashamed. Bailey’s kid is going to love Lamby II.”

She handed the toy back to him. It looked incredibly small in his big hands, and she knew her cavewoman instincts were attracted to a good protector. She couldn’t help watching as he tucked the lamb under his arm while he shrugged into his black leather jacket.

He turned to go, then said, “Whoa. Those bags have baby logos on them.”

“They’re the things your mom bought. I told you.”

“I know. It’s the bags. We have to conceal them
just in case we do get spotted.” He put the lamb inside one. “I’ll grab a couple garbage bags.”

It only took a few minutes for them to hide the retail bags and stow them in the backseat of his Jeep. The breeze coming in through the windows as they drove ruffled the plastic bags, a reminder that nothing about this day was normal. If they wanted to visit Deb and Bailey, they should be able to. If she and Cooper wanted to bring a present to Deb—hell, if they wanted to get her a stroller and a huge stack of cloth diapers—they shouldn’t have to hide it in garbage bags. She’d thought her mom was consumed with image, but the Murphys took things to an entirely new and uncomfortable level.

And then there was the way Cooper’s family treated him like a second-class citizen. As if there’d been an entrance exam around the time he was born and he hadn’t performed well. Got his goo’s mixed up with his ga’s or didn’t drool with enough precision. She could see no rational explanation for why he had been passed over in favor of Theo, and she had no idea why he wasn’t pissed.

“I still can’t believe my mom sent all that stuff.”

“It’s her grandchild, Cooper. That’s a huge deal.”

“Not a big enough deal to start talking to Bailey again.”

“Maybe that’s the thing. I think she’s mad at him, but she’s hurt, too. He didn’t trust your parents
enough to ask if he could leave the Senate. He didn’t give them a chance to plan. I bet if I were a mom and I found out my kid didn’t trust me, my feelings would be hurt.”

“I guess.”

Neither of them spoke again during the ride to Lucky’s. The press had staked out Deb’s apartment so they’d decided they would meet in Alice’s tasting room. Jorie had a built-in excuse to be there for her job and Cooper had spent enough time going in and out recently that he wouldn’t be noticed. Alice had talked to the chef at the small Mexican restaurant whose back door was across the alley from hers, and Deb and Bailey were coming through that way.

Eliot was working at the counter when they opened the front door. The bakery was empty for the moment, and Jorie took her first steady breath since they’d parked the car. Maybe this would work. Eliot nodded toward the back room. “Your party arrived a few minutes ago.”

Cooper hefted the garbage bags again and they headed into the tasting room.

Alice had the shutters closed so the room wasn’t as bright as usual, but otherwise it was set up as if for a standard cake tasting, right down to the silver tray holding an assortment of cakes. Every element was in place to provide a cover for their meeting. Bailey was seated beside a woman with long dark
hair at one of the small tables, but he stood up when he heard the door open.

“Cooper, Jorie,” he said. “Meet Deb Collier.”

C
OOPER’S FIRST THOUGHT
was that he hadn’t seen Bailey smile like that in years. His second thought was that his mom should be here. And then he stopped thinking and crossed the room to meet Deb and the baby she was carrying. Until she stood up and he saw the actual bump, indisputable evidence of his first niece or nephew, he hadn’t totally taken in the fact that Bailey was going to be a dad soon. He dropped the bags and put his arms around both of them and kissed the top of Deb’s head. “Welcome to the family.”

Bailey’s voice sounded strangled when he said, “I told you he’s really a woman trapped in an ugly man’s body.”

Cooper let them go, but he didn’t move away. “I’ve been waiting to meet her, Bay. Cut me some slack.”

Deb straightened the collar of the brown jacket she was wearing over a pair of brown pants with a faint white pinstripe. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Cooper,” she said. And then she burst into tears.

For an instant they were all frozen. Deb grabbed a napkin off the table behind her and buried her face in it. “I’m sorry. Hormones.” She sniffed, obviously
trying and failing to control her tears. “I’m not normally like this.”

Jorie went to her and patted her back. “It’s okay.”

Bailey patted her from the other side, looking completely out of his depth.

Deb lifted her head after a minute and swiped away the mascara streaked under her eyes. “I’m sorry. This has all been so stressful.”

Cooper snagged a box of tissues off a small table and Deb grabbed a handful and blew her nose.

After that introduction, it seemed easy to sit down together to eat cake and get to know one another.

After a few minutes, Cooper snagged the garbage bags and carried them over to the table. “We brought you some presents.”

“It’s too much,” Deb protested, but Bailey dove right in. He opened the first bag and found the stuffed lamb on top. He started laughing.

“Are you kidding me? You got my kid a Lamby?”

“Lamby II,” Cooper said.

“You want him to get beaten up at summer camp?”

“Nobody ever beat me up,” Cooper insisted. “And I only brought him to camp one year.”

“You took your stuffed animal to camp?” Jorie asked.

“I was only seven. Maybe my brother should have told me to leave him home.”

Deb reached for the toy and wound the handle to listen to the song. “I think it’s perfect. Lamby II is most welcome, Cooper. Thanks.”

Bailey dragged out one shopping bag and put it on the table while Jorie retrieved the other one. “Who’s all this from if not you guys?” Bailey asked.

Cooper shrugged. “Mom.”

Bailey slowly pulled his hand out of the bag. “What?”

“Mom sent it. She gave it to Jorie so we could give it to you.”

“Can you excuse us?” Bailey asked Deb and Jorie. They nodded. Cooper followed him across the room and through a door into a small storage space.

“Mom’s not talking to me,” Bailey said. “But she’s shopping for stuff for my kid?”

“It’s her grandchild.” Cooper didn’t know what to tell his brother. He thought his mom was being crazy, but on the other hand, she was trying. “I’m taking it as a good sign.”

“A sign of what?” Bailey asked.

“That she’s going to come around.”

“Maybe I don’t want her to come around. Maybe I’ve learned something during these past three weeks and I don’t want Mom or Dad or their particular
blend of Murphy-family crazy anywhere near my child.”

“You don’t mean that,” Cooper said.

“I might.”

Cooper smacked his hand on a case of flour. “Bailey, I’m turning my life inside out to keep peace in the family. To help salvage something from the mess you made so you and Mom and Dad don’t spend the rest of your lives hating each other. What the hell do you mean by saying you don’t want them around?”

“I told you not to do that, Coop. I told you not to get your life tied up in theirs.”

“That doesn’t make sense. They’re our parents. How can we not be tied up in each other?”

“You have to figure out what you want, Coop, and then go for it. Don’t let this Murphy crap drag you off in some direction you never thought of, because if you do, before you know what’s happening, you’re going to be just as stuck as I was.”

“You know what?” Cooper said. “Maybe you weren’t as stuck as you thought. Maybe if you trusted Mom and Dad a little bit, you could have talked to them and found a way out that wouldn’t have messed everything up.”

I
T WAS OBVIOUS
Cooper and Bailey were arguing. Jorie tried to get Deb interested in the gifts, but as soon as she heard they were from Rachel, she’d shut down.

“Rachel is going to come around,” Jorie said. “It’s been a hard time for her, but she’ll get over it.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Deb said.

“What?”

“Look at you. You’re the perfect one. You have your perfect engagement, your perfect husband. Your perfect wedding and your perfect little fairy tale. The Murphys must love you because you’re everything they want.”

“It’s not like that,” Jorie said.

“Yes, it is. I’m always going to be the other woman to them. Our baby will always remind them of Bailey’s resignation. There’s no way we’ll ever fit in. Not the way you do.”

Jorie was shocked that Deb thought of her this way. That she’d somehow been presented as a Murphy insider. Had she been that good at the
chameleon act again? Was she following her mom’s recipe so closely that she was already seen as the perfect Murphy spouse?

“Deb, I can’t speak for Rachel, but the day she gave me these gifts, she was genuinely sad. She wants to reach out. I know she will. Give her time.”

“She’s the one who has the power, Jorie. If she wants to be part of our lives, she can show up herself, and if she wants to cut us out of her life, she can do that, too. She already has. Bailey told me his parents don’t see a boundary between family and work—his marriage was part of his job, just like yours is part of Cooper’s job. You better be careful they don’t turn on you, too.”

Jorie didn’t know how to respond. The storage room door banged open and Cooper strode out, Bailey close on his heels

“You’re not leaving that stuff here, Coop.”

“I’m not taking it back.”

“Yes, you are. You take it back and tell Mom if she wants to give the baby a present she can do it in person.”

Jorie watched Cooper gather up his temper. He tightened his jaw and took a deep breath, all the while clenching and unclenching his fists. She was so caught up watching him, she almost missed his first words.

“Bay, please. Don’t do this to her.”

“She made her choice.”

Cooper turned to Deb. She put the sweater she’d been holding back into the shopping bag. She’d made her choice as well.

“Fine,” Cooper said. He took the handles of the two bags and turned to Deb. “It was wonderful to meet you. Take care of yourself and the baby.”

When they came through the swinging door into the bakery Eliot said, “How was the cake?”

“Ask my brother,” Cooper snapped.

Jorie called a thank-you and followed him out. He popped the back window on his Jeep and put the presents inside before slamming it shut.

When they were both settled in their seats, he said, “I can’t give that stuff back to my mom.”

Jorie wanted to agree with him, but she thought he was wrong. She’d seen Rachel’s face when they talked about Bailey and the baby. Rachel would make a lot of choices based on what Nolan wanted and what was best for the family’s political aspirations, but Jorie didn’t think she’d want this rift with Bailey to be permanent. She couldn’t believe anyone would make that choice.

“You owe it to her to be honest,” she said. “You have to let her make her own decision about what to do.”

Cooper jammed the key into the ignition and turned it hard. “Since when do Murphys get to make choices?”

T
HE NEXT DAY
meant three weeks had gone by and Governor Karloski still hadn’t committed to appointing Cooper and thereby smoothing the way for Theo to run. Nolan decided earlier in the week that if they hadn’t heard by today they would travel to Harrisburg in person. Jorie’s presence wasn’t necessary in the unofficial delegation, but Cooper had asked her if she’d be able to make the overnight trip.

They were planning to take four cars, including Cooper’s Jeep. They were all double-parked in front of the Murphy home, trying to sort out rides and suitcases, when Nolan got a call. The governor wouldn’t see them. They were to sit tight and the announcement would come when he was ready. Not a moment before.

It was a power play, plain and simple, and the Murphys were forced to wait.

Cooper’s dad wasn’t the kind of guy who dealt well with his plans being thwarted. Especially by Karloski, who was quickly ascending the ranks of Nolan’s Least Favorite People. The shouting only lasted about ten minutes and no tires were damaged, although several were kicked.

Nolan shut himself up in his library, Theo went
to the airport to head back to his office and Bailey took off, no doubt to see Deb. Rachel came into the kitchen where Jorie and Cooper had taken refuge with coffee.

“You might as well leave, too,” she said. “Your dad’s not in the frame of mind to get anything done.”

“What are you going to do?” Cooper asked her.

“Hide out, mostly. I have some correspondence I need to catch up on. The alumni magazine for my sorority came today. I might open that and see which of my cronies have died this year.”

“Mom, that’s awful.”

“It’s what we do, Cooper. You’ll see when you’re my age.”

“Your age! You sound as if you’re ninety-three.”

Rachel swatted the back of his head. “I’m old enough, sonny boy.”

Cooper laughed. “All right, I admit it, you’re a geezer.”

She left them alone and Jorie shrugged. “Maybe I’ll head to the bakery and see if Alice needs help.”

“What if we went on a date?”

As soon as he said it, he knew exactly how they should spend their day. She looked skeptical. Well, he wasn’t going to nudge her. He wanted her to say yes because she wanted to.

“What?”

“I’ve got a surprise I’d like to show you.”

“You want to show me a surprise?” She brought her coffee cup to the table and put it down. She’d brought a box of Linzer cookies from the bakery that morning and now she put one on a plate, dusting the sugar off her fingers into the sink.

She handed him the cookie and then got one for herself.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the surprise?”

He had a mouthful of cookie so he couldn’t laugh at her, but he raised his eyebrows. When he could speak, he said, “‘What’s the surprise?’ You must know that’s not a logical question. If I tell you what it is, then it’s not a surprise anymore.”

She nodded. “That’s fair. Okay, then how do I know I’ll like the surprise? I generally hate surprises.”

“I know you’ll like it the same way you knew I’d like red velvet cake. I know you.”

“I don’t like watching baseball. Not even live baseball.” There was suspicion in her voice. Totally unwarranted. He didn’t like watching baseball with anyone except Bailey and a few other guys who’d grown up waiting for baseball to come back to D.C. Watching with someone who didn’t care was like going to a movie where you had to explain the jokes—not worth the effort.

“The Nats are on the road. But I wouldn’t take you
to a baseball game, anyway. I know you wouldn’t enjoy it. I also wouldn’t take you to a Thai restaurant, or any place that doesn’t serve cake, or to a book signing for a celebrity memoirist unless it was John Cusack.”

She shook her head, but she smiled. “Fine,” she said. “Show me the surprise.”

“I’m going to get out of this suit and put on some jeans. Can you wait for a minute?” He was glad he had the clothes he’d packed for the road trip. He put his plate and coffee cup in the dishwasher. When he was walking past her, she looked up.

“Is it a dirty surprise?”

Just hearing her say “dirty” made his body tighten. He leaned down and kissed her neck. She was wearing a tank top under a silky shirt and he pushed her hair aside and kissed the bare skin right above her collarbone. Then, with his lips barely touching her, he whispered, “If you want a dirty surprise, I can arrange that.”

A shiver ran over her skin. He put one hand on her bicep and kissed her mouth, relishing the way she kissed him back. “I know lots of things you like,” he whispered. She shivered again and then tilted her head to deepen their kiss.

When he pulled away to head upstairs to change, he trailed his hand down her arm, shoulder to wrist
to fingertips. She was so gorgeous. She sighed when he walked away. It made him smile.

“I
THINK THIS PLACE
is closed,” Jorie said. The day was warm, but they were standing in an alley and the buildings on either side were tall enough that the shade was almost chilly. She crossed her arms and shivered.

“It’s not closed,” Cooper said. He turned the knob on the steel fire door marked “Museum” and walked inside. “Marty doesn’t believe in advertising. Says if people don’t care enough to find him, he doesn’t want them poking through his stuff in the first place.”

“What stuff?” Jorie said, looking around the shabby lobby with the worn linoleum door and a small wooden table that was bare except for a stack of brochures, a plastic doorbell affixed to the counter with duct tape, and a locked Plexiglas box labeled “Donations.” A few crumpled dollar bills lay at the bottom amongst a mix of change, several green plastic army figures and a keychain with a metal horse hanging off the end. “Whatever it is, I hope he’s not living off the donations.”

Cooper took a twenty out of his wallet and stuffed it in the box. He hit the button on the doorbell and smiled. “Just wait.”

There was a crackling noise and then a fife and
drum song filtered out of a speaker over the table. The first time he’d come here, Cooper had been on assignment. He was supposed to be writing a piece for his high school newspaper about citizen historians. His dad had gotten him appointments with two Georgetown professors who’d written books, and Cooper had dutifully interviewed them, but it was an excruciating experience. They were both about as pompous as it was possible to be. The second professor made a joke about Marty and his museum and Cooper had come here directly from the interview. The afternoon he spent at Marty’s remained one of his best memories.

Jorie looked at him, and he put his arm around her shoulder. “Listen.”

The music faded and Marty’s speech started. Cooper had asked him one time if he’d ever had any training as an actor or even a newscaster, but the question had irritated Marty. He said when he’d been in school, everyone was taught to deliver an oral reading properly—he didn’t use the word
elocution,
but he might as well have. Cooper had let him rant, but he knew there was something different about Marty’s speech. Maybe it was the passion he had for the subject.

“When you read about that day, the words have the ring of history, of heroism. An assault at dawn. An army too stubborn to retreat. A cavalry charge
to save the day. Lee. A.P. Hill. Harpers Ferry. The Army of Northern Virginia. Miller’s Cornfield and Dunkers Church. What the words conceal…or maybe what they illuminate…is the story of the single bloodiest day in the long and bloody history of the American military. Some call it Sharpsburg. Some call it Antietam. The name doesn’t matter. What matters are the actions taken, the decisions made, the tiny flicks of fate that led two great forces into a day of crippling destruction.

Open the door and prepare to live that day with the fighting men of the American Civil War.”

She was caught. He saw it in her face and knew Marty’s voice had worked its magic one more time.

“Open the door.”

Inside the room was dark. Emergency lighting lined a path on the floor. He waited until the door had closed behind them and then took her hand to walk forward. A weak light glowed around a button on the edge of a low table. He couldn’t see her, but he felt her turn to him.

“Push the button.”

The speakers crackled as the first section of the diorama lit up and then Marty’s voice came on again, guiding them through the days leading up to the battle. When Marty’s voiceover ended and the music trailed off, the lights faded and the next
section of the path lit up, a glowing button beckoning them forward. She squeezed his hand and whispered, “You were right. I do love this.”

T
HERE WAS NO WAY
a diorama should be so heartbreaking. That was the first thing Jorie thought. Dioramas were for second-graders and Girl Scouts and model train enthusiasts. They were…cheesy. But as she followed the glowing lights through the dark room, watching as one section of battle after another was lit up, hearing the haunting voice lead her through the battle toward the victory that wasn’t a victory, she forgot all of her misgivings about the diorama and immersed herself in the experience.

The room remained dark, even when small explosions lit up one section of the battlefield or the emergency lights came on to illuminate the path to the next station. She couldn’t see Cooper, but it didn’t really matter. She knew exactly where he was. Her hand was in his, warm and strong, his thumb occasionally stroking over hers. His fingers tightened when A.P. Hill’s cavalry thundered in from Harpers Ferry and she squeezed him back. Their shared love for cavalry charges had been one of the first things she liked about him.

At the last station, he pulled her in front of him, crossing his arms over her chest and leaning his chin on her hair. He was tall enough that she felt
enveloped by him, anchored by him. She should slide out of his arms, but instead she leaned back into him. In the dark room of this unique museum there was no one to see if she let go for a little while and let him be in charge. It felt good to surrender. He tightened his arms, and she let her head fall back onto his shoulder. Was this what her mom felt like when she’d found a guy and rearranged her life to fit his? When she’d left her old life behind and thrown herself entirely into his. Had she felt supported? Or had Chelsea been scared? There must have come a time when she’d been let down so often that she’d expected rejection instead of happiness, right? Or had she kept hoping, right up until the last guy, that she’d found a good one. Someone she could spend her life with, who wouldn’t leave her?

The voice-over ended and lights illuminated the path to the door.

Cooper gave her a last squeeze and then started to walk out.