On The Dotted Line (22 page)

“Van
gave me the worst time when we got married.” Lillian moved her chair closer. “I
grew up in the valley, I didn’t know how to do anything but go to the mall.”

She
took in Randolph’s mother somehow finding it hard to believe the woman was
anything other than the perfect complement to Mr. Van Ayers.

“One
time we were at his finance meeting and he told me just to stand next to him
and look pretty.”

“My
son.” Caroline growled.

“What
did you do?” Not wanting to miss a word, Willow leaned in.

Lillian
sat up and smoothed her hair back, though she was perfectly coiffed, and
glanced at Caroline.

“We
gave her a crash course in banking, event planning and getting to know the
right people.” Caroline lifted her chin.

“That
was after I showed up to one of his events in dirty dungarees and looking a
mess, but managed to tell Van everything I knew about how to split up our
finances in the event of our divorce.” Lillian smiled, but covered her mouth
with her hand.

Holy
hell, these women were brilliant.

“I
have the book upstairs, I’ll lend it to you.” Caroline patted her shoulder.

“Did
you mess up his reservations?” Lillian asked.

“Yes,”
she whispered as if she wanted to keep the walls from hearing. “I didn’t think
it was important.”

“Why
didn’t you ask me?”

She
shrugged. The solution would have been obvious, should have been, but she
ignored it like everything else.

“When
we get home I’ll get you a list of the six restaurants that not only are
acceptable for a Van Ayers dinner, but all you have to do is say your last name
and they will seat you at the best table.” Lillian gave her a huge smile. “Next
week we can go visit them so they know you, is that all right?”

She
exhaled. “Thank you.”

“You
only need to develop your own style.” Caroline piped in. “Beverly Hills is a
hard town, but you have moxie, and I can help. I have been waiting for an
opportunity like this.”

Willow
wanted to hug these women.

“Are
you going to give her the vintage gowns?” Lillian’s eyes widened.

“You
were always a Rodeo Drive delight, but our Willow has more of an edge. She’s
Melrose and metaphysical.”

“She’s
going to be even more beautiful and the envy of everyone.” Lillian gave Willow a
hug.

Caroline
winked at her. “I hated seeing the clothes go to waste.”

The
woman understood. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You
already did.” Caroline pushed her cup toward her.

Willow
lifted the cup and showed it to both of them. “There’s no surprise with this
one. It’s a square, a symbol of peace and protection.”

The
door opened and Randolph entered, staring at his phone. “Did Willow tell you
what presents are in your future?”

“What
are you doing on Christmas eve with that thing?” Lillian furrowed her brow.

“I’m
watching Jeb. Junior rigged it so we can see him at the house in California.
The staff is fawning all over him.” He smiled and turned the phone around.

Willow’s
heart filled even further. For two hours she listened to the Van Ayers discuss
the logistics of bringing Jeb on the trip. Once Lillian found out she couldn’t
pretend Jeb was a stuffed animal and bring her on the plane with them, she
insisted her husband fix it. Within hours a crew was at the house installing
surveillance equipment in what they turned into Jeb’s suite. Honestly, Willow
never saw a man move quite that fast to please his wife, except maybe Randolph.

“Randolph,
look I’m a fireplace.” With her cup in hand, Lillian shot up from her chair and
showed her son while she watched the live feed of Jeb. “It means family.”

“Well,
we are all family.” He narrowed his eyes at the cup.

Her
stomach twisted at the word family.

“How
on earth did Willow learn how to do all these things?” Caroline asked.

“She
is but a mystery to me. One I had to learn to accept, Gran.”

“Maybe
some mystery is good.” Lillian patted him and headed toward the door.

What
kind of wife wouldn’t even answer a simple question for her husband? Like it or
not he was her husband, and she liked it.

“Come
on.” Randolph held his hand out to her. “This is the first time I’ve looked
forward to presents since I can remember.”

Without
hesitation she put her hand in his, but before getting up from the chair, she
quickly looked under her cup.

“What
did you get?” He leaned over.

“Spider.”
The scent of his cologne swirled around her. She laced her fingers in his and looked
up at him.

“Does
that mean your husband will always save you from spiders?” He grinned. “Because
I will, you know.”

“Oh,
I hope there is never a spider in the house.” Lillian shuddered.

“In
this case it means good fortune.” She put the cup down.

“Excellent.”
He led her out of the solarium.

“It
also means your wife would save you from a spider as well.” She gave him a
playful elbow but hoped he heard her.

“Also
excellent.” He wrapped his arm around her waist. “One day you need to do a reading
on me.”

“When
you are at your most receptive.” She left out the part about the spider meaning
secretive and hidden things. Her energy needed a major overhaul. Maybe it was
time to let him in, return the favors he had given her and at last be a wife no
matter if it was only for the year.

Last
Christmas Randolph sat in the main foyer of his grandparents’ home and watched
everyone open gifts. He received the gratuitous designer ties from his mother, some
rare coins or something else of value from his father bought by his mother, and
something bizarre from his grandparents, like the ship in the bottle kit that
remained in the box.

He
glanced around the couch. A box of ties, some collectable stamps, and an
antique clock piled up next to him. However he had a couple of wild cards to
make his carbon copy Christmas unique.

Wild
card number one, Willow, held up the scarf his parents gifted her. Only Lillian
Van Ayers could pull off getting one of the collectable scarves from that brand
at the holiday season. The damn store didn’t want to sell anyone anything. He
knew, he tried, and then had to get Mrs. Avery to get his mother’s gift. He
took the scarf, folded it for her and put it around her neck using the vintage
scarf ring his grandparents gave her to secure the thin piece of silk. “Beautiful.”

She
bit her lip and curled up on his side. Thus far she had given his mother and
grandmother custom essential oils she created and named after them, slipped his
father a box of his favorite cigars and with a huge smile, handed his
grandfather a bottle of cognac. He would have preferred they gave their gifts
as a couple, but she never brought the subject up and he didn’t want to push
her.

“Guapo,
here.” Wild card number two, Nan, thrust a thin box wrapped in craft paper in
front of him.

“Are
you feeling better?” He leaned down to the gifts Mrs. Avery wrapped and gave
her his offering.

“Don’t
you worry about me, you have your hands full.” Without waiting she ripped the
paper off the small box, tore away the lid and revealed a pair of earrings. The
multi-colored stones were made to look like flowers.

She
smiled and held them up to her ear. “What made you get these?”

Everyone
around the room oohed and ahhed.

“I
saw them and they looked like you.” The woman loved her floral prints and the
earrings matched her. He took inventory of the presents he doled out. His
mother was the easiest for someone with money and was thrilled with anything
with a logo, while his father got whatever Mrs. Avery chose from her list. His
grandparents were easy as well, a collectable book for his grandfather and
anything classy for his grandmother along with a visit from him did the trick. However,
he did struggle with Nan and Willow and Mrs. Avery wouldn’t help.

“Then
I will always cherish them.” She bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Open
mine.”

He
unwrapped his gift and opened the flat box to find a dream catcher.

“Do
you know what that is?” Nan asked.

“It’s
a dream catcher.” He smiled and lifted the intricate piece for the rest of the
family to admire.

“Oh,
it’s so pretty!” His mother stood and touched one of the feathers.

“Maybe
it will make you sleep better and expand your mind.” Nan raised her eyebrows
and resumed her seat.

“Thank
you.” For his last wild card, he bent down and handed Willow her gift. A larger
box with glossy red paper and a big white bow. He had wrapped, unwrapped and
wrapped the present multiple times and his chest constricted at the thought of
her opening it, wondering if she would understand. Over the years he had given
women gifts, and while they usually loved his taste, Willow was a wild card.

Apparently
his wife had a case of nerves as well. Her cheeks glowing, she sat up from her
relaxed state by his side and lifted a fairly large package wrapped in gold
paper and held together with ribbon.

Without
a clue of what it could be, he placed the squishy gift on his lap.

“Randolph,
open it.” His mother came to the rescue.

He
glanced at Willow, untied the ribbon and pulled the paper open. Out of the
corner of his eye he saw her lean over as he unwrapped one of her hand-crocheted
blankets.

“Oh,
how gorgeous.” His mother ran her hand over the yarn. “Did you make this,
Willow?”

She
nodded.

Only
a few weeks ago he called something similar a rag, now it was a precious keepsake.
“I love it.” He studied the perfect little stitches. She must have spent hours
making the blanket. Done in the muted creams and tans, the colors matched their
suite. Between the dream catcher and the blanket, he would have some truly
unique pieces made for him not only showpieces. “No one ever made me anything
before, thank you.”

“Now
you.” His mother motioned toward the box.

After
one more quick glance at him, Willow returned her attention to her own present
and tore the paper away.

“Oh
Randolph!” His mother screamed, bounced over and put her hand on the box in
Willow’s lap. “You didn’t tape the box, did you? You have to keep the box.”

“I
even kept the bag from the store. It’s at home.” He knew the rules. “Let Willow
open her gift.”

“Let’s
see which one you got.” His mother clapped and reluctantly took her seat.

Willow’s
hands shook but with great care took the lid off the box, moved away the tissue
paper and lifted out his gift.

“Oh
my God.” His mother fanned herself. “It’s gorgeous. The black one in large is
always the perfect selection for the first one. It fits everything.”

“A
new bag?” Willow whispered the question, no smile, no excitement.

“That’s
not just any bag, that is THE bag, will always be THE bag.” His mother took
over the explanation. “It’s an icon. This bag has history.”

“It’s
incredible.” She ran her fingers over the leather, the clasp, and the strap. “I
needed a new handbag.”

He
held his breath waiting for the verdict.

“Thank
you.” She faced him.

Almost
any other woman on the planet would have had his mother’s reaction. Two weeks
ago if Willow simply looked at him and softly said thank you he admitted to
himself they would have gotten in a fight. Not anymore. Luck on his side, he
unwrapped the gift one last time after the Sedona trip and his talk with Nan. “You
didn’t look inside.”

“Did
you get the wallet?” His mother practically fell over.

He
didn’t answer and waited for Willow to do as he asked.

With
careful movements, she lifted the flap, reached inside and pulled out what he
considered her true gift.

“This
is rose quartz.” She lifted the necklace strung with the pink stones. Her eyes
widened as she gazed at the jewelry. “Oh my.”

“Isn’t
that pretty.” His mother breathed.

Nan
nodded.

“Yes,
rose quartz.” He slid over and took the necklace. “I found it in Sedona.”

She
gave him the necklace, turned and lifted her hair.

He
fastened the necklace around her neck and leaned into her ear. “The man who
sold it to me said it was the perfect gift for a wife.” Other than that, he
honestly thought the pink semi-precious stones would look nice against her skin
tone.

“I
love it.” She turned back and gave him a kiss, a soft one on the lips.

At
the unexpected affection and after their shower earlier, he held her tight
fighting the need to take her under the blanket and ask her to change into
nothing but the necklace.

The
room clapped.

“Randolph.”
She cupped her hand over her ear.

“Yes,
Mrs. Van Ayers.” He lowered his voice though his entire family had leaned into
hear their conversation.

“I
need you to help me change into my new purse.”

His
father gave him a thumbs-up.

Her
whisper made him shudder. “You need help?” His mother screamed anytime his
father even glanced in the direction of her handbag let alone touched it.

“Yes.”
She gave him a light kiss on the ear. “Meet me down here after everyone goes to
bed, I need to do a few things.” Once more she cuddled up on his side and laced
her arm in his.

He
unfolded the blanket and got them both underneath.

She
reached down and put her hand in his, for the first time seeking him out.

Maybe
that was the best present of them all.

* * * *

The
flicker of the fire in the fireplace gave the main room of Randolph’s
grandparents’ mansion an ethereal glow. With her new handbag cradled in her
arms, her old handbag slung over her shoulder and her amazing necklace around her
neck she made her way down the stairs. Her instinct told her Randolph had no
idea he gave her the stone representing unconditional love and peace, but no
matter what he had been drawn to it and the day she signed her name on the
contract their lives were forever intertwined. Maybe it meant more that he didn’t
know.

In
the main room she found Randolph on the rug by the tree staring into the fire
and holding a glass and a sketchpad by his side.

“I
thought we would have a nightcap on this fine Christmas Eve.” He didn’t turn to
look her way, but he lifted an empty glass. “Come join me.”

Something
about Randolph Van Ayers the third made her stomach spiral like when she used
to like a boy when she was younger. She supposed they called them crushes for a
reason.

“What
are you drawing?” With a breath and a swallow she joined him and put both bags
in front of them.

“I
can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that I never helped a woman change
purses. I thought it was one of those things that would elude me for my entire
life.” He handed her the pad and reached out for her bag.

“How
about we drink first?” Maybe some liquid fortification would help calm her
nerves. One thing about Randolph was that once someone put a goal in his path
he pursued it, from completing his list to running an empire to changing a
handbag. Not ready for her conversation to start quite yet, she took in the
picture he drew of the two of them in their snowball fight. “Your talent is
incredible.”

“It’s
passable.” He poured her some of the amber liquid and handed her the drink and
tapped his glass against hers. “To an amazing holiday.”

“Absolutely.”
The alcohol burned yet warmed her as it made its way down in one smooth stream.

“A
woman who can sip a single malt scotch without wincing is very sexy.” He downed
his drink and put the glass aside.

She
stared right at him and took another taste without as much as a flutter.

“Do
it again.” His tone lowered.

“You
don’t have any.”

“Don’t
worry about me.” He kept his focus on her.

Without
breaking eye contact, she put the glass to her lips and tilted it back, polishing
off the rest of the liquid.

In
an instant he took her into his arms and kissed her. His tongue searched out
hers and he bent her back.

Oh,
he made it incredibly easy to become lost, forget what she came down here for. Though
she made up her mind she wanted to be a wife, she needed to let him choose if
he wanted someone more than a person who put her name on a paper.

He
moved his lips to her ear. “You are delicious.”

She
shivered.

“Are
you cold?” He chuckled. “Do you need some more Scotch?”

The
question handed her the perfect opportunity, the ideal introduction to her
story, and she decided for once in her life to take full advantage. She put her
palm to his cheek. “What if I told you that since I was ten years old, Nan
would give me tastes of alcohol to keep me warm on the coldest of nights? She
said it was a natural heater.”

The
man was smart, probably too smart. He froze, the shine in his eye dulled and he
nodded. “I would answer that I have a multitude of questions that go along with
your statement.”

For
only a second, she paused. They couldn’t handle any more back and forth, no
more fights. If they were married, they were married. “Then I would say go
ahead and ask me anything.”

He
took her hand and helped her sit up. “Why didn’t you have heat?”

A
long time ago she even forbid Nan from talking about their history. Exactly
like she stopped Randolph from mentioning their situation to Jade and Slate. She
couldn’t hide anymore. “Because not everywhere we stayed had heat.”

“What
about your parents? Didn’t they mind their little girl being without heat?”

“I
told you we need to switch bags.” She pulled her old bag over and spilled the
contents out between them.

“I
thought we were talking.” He balled his hand in a fist.

No
more frustration. She forced herself forward and turned the bag inside out,
ripping off the bottom and revealing her history she hid in the one place she
knew would be safe. “I’m sure whoever my father is didn’t care about my lack of
heat, since my mother never bothered to provide a name for him.” For a man with
history dating back several hundred years, she wondered if he could even
process what she told him.