Tea and Primroses (5 page)

His eyes moved to her as he came closer. She met him halfway. His arms wrapped around her. She was only a couple of inches shorter than he in her heeled sandals. Her face was against his neck and he smelled of spicy cologne and shaving cream. She began to cry, right there in his arms, with Patrick Waters behind them and all the guests talking in hushed voices in huddled corners and servers in crisp white aprons passing around the bacon-wrapped dates on trays.

SUTTON FELT DECLAN TIGHTEN HIS GRIP
as he spoke quietly into her ear. “Let’s talk somewhere privately. Okay?”

“Yes,” she whispered into his neck.

He led her into her mother’s office, his arm around her shoulders. “Sit here. Do you need water?”

She shook her head as he sat with her on the padded bench with the pink flowers near the west facing window, the same one they’d sat on as children when they came home from school.

How was your day, my munchkins?
Constance would ask them.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. The flights and layovers were a nightmare.” Declan rubbed under his eyes. “God, it’s strange to be here. Everything’s the same, though. Isn’t it?” He looked around the office. It was decorated in shades of sea grass, with white furniture and soft throw carpets over the hardwood floors. Constance had spent her days writing at the large white desk, neatly organized, her dark blue notebook where she scribbled notes sitting cockeyed near her keyboard.

“She kept things mostly the same, redecorating once in a while. But you know how she was. Never wanted her writing routine interrupted.” She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment. “Thank you for coming.”

He turned to look at her, his cheek in his hand. His eyes, the color of an evening sky just before stars appear, were bloodshot. “It doesn’t seem possible she’s gone.” His face crumpled, and the tears, like a leaking faucet, ran down his cheeks. He swiped at them with the back of his hand. “God, I’ve cried so much my eyes are stinging.”

“Me too.” She touched the side of his face.
I’ve missed you
, she thought.
So very much.

He covered her hand with his. “I wouldn’t have ever considered not being here. I hope you know that, in spite of everything.”

Like something warm on a cold day, she felt the rush of goodness, of necessity, of wanting. Him. Only Declan would do. “Do you want to stay here? Or, you could stay with me at my place. It’s kind of small but you could sleep on the couch.”

“I’ll stay here.” He paused. “In the guest room.”

“Well, if you change your mind the invitation is open.”

He reached for a lock of her hair. “You’re beautiful. I didn’t think it was possible for you to get prettier.”

She touched her fingertips to the soft skin under her eyes. “I’m a mess. Keep crying my makeup off.”

“You don’t need it. Never did.”

“Do you have to go back to Italy?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

She went to window. “She asked us to spread her ashes in the waves—or the sea foam, as she put it. Just you and me.” Sutton smiled, feeling the tears coming again. “Only Mother would call it sea foam instead of just plain old waves.”

He joined her at the window. Looking out, he pointed toward the water. “I guess she can join my mom there. Reunited, right?”

Sutton started to cry again, trying to control the ache in her chest but the tears kept coming. He pulled her into his arms. They were strong and she let herself rest in them. After the tears stopped, she looked up at him. “I guess this means we’re orphans now.”

“I guess it does.” He picked up her hand. Sutton’s diamond engagement ring caught the light. His eyes went wide and he dropped her hand and moved away from her, perching on the side of her mother’s desk.

“Didn’t Mom tell you?”

“Yeah, she wrote me. Roger.”

“Roger.” Saying his name made her feel silly. It was such an ordinary name. Declan Treadwell. That was a name. Declan was pronounced like deck and len, with the emphasis on the first syllable.

“Do you love him?” His voice was tight.

It unsettled her, this question. “You never were one to make small talk, huh?”

“Do you?”

 “I said yes when he asked me to marry him. So I must love him, right?” She twisted the ring so the diamond was against the soft pad of her palm, next to a scar from a baking burn.

“That doesn’t sound entirely convincing.”

“Mother didn’t like him. She said not to marry him, that she never understood one thing he ever said.” She looked into Declan’s eyes. “He’s different.”

“Different than what?”

“Than most people, I guess. He’s very smart. A computer guy.”

He shifted so that he was looking directly at her. The breeze drifting into the room smelled of the sea. “Why did you say yes?”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. “He came after me, which is refreshing considering the pool of men out there. All these guys with commitment issues. Pacific Northwest guys are too passive to claim you.” She faltered, wishing she hadn’t revealed so much already. But she continued, unable to keep the truth from Declan. He always had a way of opening her up. “He asked, I guess.”

“I asked.”

She met his gaze. “It wasn’t that simple. You know that.”

“It was to me.” He gazed at her, unflinching. He crossed the room and brought her hand to his chest. “Don’t marry him just because you want a baby.”

“That’s not it. Dammit, you can’t just walk in here after disappearing for six years and start telling me what to do.” She jerked away from him.

There was a light knock on the door. Conrad Hutchinson, her mother’s attorney, put his head inside. “Sutton, can I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” Conrad shut the door behind him. He wore his standard impeccable blue suit and attractive tie. Today it was light blue with lavender flowers. Sutton was fairly certain his wife dressed him. He was approaching sixty and had been her mother’s lawyer from the beginning of her success. “Oregon born and educated,” she often said to Sutton. “I know I can trust him.”

Conrad held out his hand to Declan. “It’s good to see, you, Dec. Long time.”

Declan shook his hand. “Good to see you too.”

“I’m glad you’re both here,” said Conrad. “The will concerns both of you.”

Besides his beautiful clothing, there was nothing remarkable about Conrad. He was almost bald with just a fringe of white hair near his neckline, hazel eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and an extra twenty pounds he wore mostly around his middle. But he was smart and decent, considering that he was an attorney. He handled only her mother’s personal affairs; she had an attorney out of Los Angeles that handled her movie deals. That lawyer was not her mother’s people, thought Sutton, absently. There wasn’t an Oregon bone in that man’s body. He bled Hollywood.

They led Conrad to the couch and each took a chair.

He opened his briefcase and took out a stack of papers. “I’ll lay it out for you both very simply. Your mother, Sutton, was worth roughly one hundred million dollars.”

What had he just said? “Did you say hundred million?” How was this possible?

“Your mother’s only extravagance, ever, was this house,” said Conrad. “She put all her money from the movies and book sales into a fund managed by a reputable investment house. The money, as it tends to do, grew quite nicely over almost thirty years.”

“I had no idea,” said Sutton, looking over at Declan.

“She did not expect to die in her fifties,” said Conrad. “Her goal was to continue to grow this ‘nest egg,’ as she called it, for the two of you.” He opened his briefcase. “She left what she referred to as ‘small amounts,’ namely in the amount of five million dollars each, to Peter Ball, Jack Ball, Gigi Mallon, and also to Louise and Aggie. Additionally, last year, she set up a trust to fund a scholarship program for low-income students in the states of both Oregon and Vermont, with particular attention on the arts and literature. She populated it with five million dollars, all of which will be managed by a foundation with the idea that it will continue to fund scholarships with dividends and the like. The rest is to be split between the two of you, along with the house. The deed goes to both of you.”

“Why would she split it between us instead of giving it to Sutton?” asked Declan.

“She considered you equally her children. And felt a great responsibility to you, Declan, after your mother passed away.” Conrad thumbed through the stack of papers and then handed an envelope across the desk to Declan. “This is a letter to you. I suspect it expresses some of her feelings.”

Sutton glanced over at Declan. He was pale and visibly shaken. He said, “But I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t ask for it. It’s not right. It should be Sutton’s.”

She reached across the arm of her chair, covering his cold hand with hers. “But I don’t need it all. I don’t need any of it, Dec. And I knew this was coming. She hinted at it in her letter to me.” Sutton smiled. “But she didn’t tell me about the others.”

“She was very specific about the others, Sutton. Your mother wanted them to know how important they’d been to her all these years. As you know, she was very close to Louise and loved those boys almost as much as she loved you two. And Gigi, well, she practically grew up in this house. Your mother loved her very much.”

Sutton choked up, tightening her grip on Declan’s hand. “Those were such happy times for me.”

“For your mother too.” Conrad took another letter from the stack of papers and gave it to Sutton. “This is a letter for the other ‘kids,’ as she called them. She asked that you read it to them.” He rose to his feet. “I won’t keep you. The details are all here in the legal document.”

They walked him to the office door. After he was gone, Declan leaned against the wall, the letter clutched in his hand.

“I can’t take your mother’s money.”

“But you must.”

He stuffed the letter in the back pocket of his jeans. “We’ll see about that.”

You’re the most impetuous, restless, proud man I’ve ever met,
she thought. “But she wanted you to have it. You don’t have to spend it all at once, for Heaven’s sake.”

“I make my own way.”

“Declan Treadwell, if it weren’t the day of my mother’s memorial I would deck you right now.”

SUTTON CONTINUED TO GLARE
at Declan. Her hand twitched with the sudden urge to smack that smug look from his face. Or, kiss him. One or the other. He glared back as the door opened. It was Roger. Sutton cringed, seeing him dressed in the Pacific Northwest high-tech guy uniform of jeans, T-shirt, and those awful walking sandals with the Velcro. He looked ridiculous next to Declan’s European chic with his crisp white shirt and perfectly draped black pants.

Declan extended his hand, introducing himself.

“Ah, yeah, sure,” said Roger. “Nice to meet you.” He turned to Sutton. “What’re you doing in here?”

“We’re talking. Dec just got here,” said Sutton. “We’re going over some details.” She felt defensive and guilty.

“Well, people are looking for you,” said Roger.

“This isn’t a party where Sutton has to circulate. No one expects that,” said Declan, his eyes lidded.

Sutton put her hand on Declan’s arm. “It’s all right. I should go out there. We can do the ashes tomorrow.”

“What time?” asked Roger. “I’ll need to get back to Portland for a meeting by three.”

“She wanted it just family,” said Sutton.

Roger’s eyes darted between them and then he nodded his head. “Yup, fine. Makes sense.” He pointed toward the front room. “You coming?”

“In a minute,” she answered. “I need to talk to Declan about another couple details.”

At the door, Roger snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah, Louise told me to tell you Aggie and Peter are here. Peter wants to talk to you both.”

“Thanks, Roger,” said Sutton, without meeting his eyes.

Roger didn’t reply, simply left, leaving the door wide open.

Declan slammed it shut and marched across the room to the desk, perching on the edge and crossing his arms across his chest. “Jesus, Sutton. You can’t tell me this is the guy you’re going to spend the rest of your life with? He’s an idiot.” This was said just louder than a whisper, with gritted teeth.

She scowled at him, trying her hardest to sound confident. “He’s just socially awkward, that’s all. He’s actually very sweet.”

“Tell me this. Is he going to move here? Or will you have to move back to Portland? Give up the dream of opening your bakery here?”

She avoided his eyes by moving to the open window, shivering in the breeze. “We haven’t really worked out all the details.”

He crossed the room and grabbed her by putting his hands on the outsides of her arms. “I’m not letting you marry him.”

She shook his hands away. “Dec, please, not now.”