This Tangled Thing Called Love: A Contemporary Romance Novel (11 page)

“Yes.” The confidence in David’s voice eased her apprehension away. That was what she loved about David most - his being sure of things. How silly it was of her to worry. Of course, his parents must have liked her; otherwise, he would not be bringing her to their house. Suddenly, Jake’s earlier comments rang home – perhaps, this really would be the big weekend. Perhaps David was really going to pop the question. The possibility made Claire’s heart skip a beat. The prospect of David putting a diamond on her finger made her happy, but marriage was such a big word – a word that would define the rest of her life. But then, she should be ready for it. She was twenty-eight years old; in less than two years she would be thirty. God, time flew. Where did all those years go? It was as if after you turned twenty-five, time accelerated. Suddenly, every year brought you closer to thirty, and before you knew it, people were asking you if you were seeing anyone seriously, wondering why you did not have a wedding ring on your finger. And yet, somehow, deep down, Claire knew that she was not ready for it. That is, she wanted to be married someday, have children maybe, but she’d always thought of it as something far off, something that she had plenty of time to decide on. What she really wanted was to have a bit more time. She was perfectly happy being David’s girlfriend. Why did things have to change?

“Here we are.” David made a turn toward a long, hedge-lined driveway. “The Lawson residence.”

Claire smoothed her hair and dabbed her face with powder.
Here we are
, she thought.

David had scarcely parked the car when Claire saw movement in the rearview mirror.

“David!” A flurry of white ruffles dashed at him before David had a chance to get out of the car. In an instant, he was standing on the ground, swooping a blond-haired girl in his arms.

“Oh, how rude of me.” The girl turned toward Claire after David had finally put her down on the ground. “You must be Claire. I’m Stephanie, David’s sister.”
She looked to be about twenty-five.

“My little sister,” David added.

“So nice to meet you, Stephanie,” Claire smiled.

“David’s told me so much about you. I have a feeling we’re going to be like sisters.” Stephanie grabbed Claire’s hand.

“David, Stephanie, what’s all this standing about in the driveway? Is this how you welcome our guests?” Mrs. Lawson had joined the group.

“Mom.” David moved to hug his mother.

“Claire, it’s so lovely to see you again.” Mrs. Lawson air-kissed Claire on both cheeks.

“Likewise, Mrs. Lawson.”

“Oh, please, call me Sylvie – Mrs. Lawson is my mother-in-law’s name.”

Claire smiled politely at the joke. At first glance, Mrs. Lawson appeared to be no older than forty, but upon
a
closer look, it became clear that her real age was somewhere in the vicinity of the late fifties. Her smooth face was carefully made up with the kind of neutral makeup that women over a certain age choose to appear ageless, and her slender body was perfectly postured. But her eyes gave her away – not the lineless skin around them, but the eyes themselves – that now and then flickered with the weariness of her true age.

“Let us go inside. Your father is waiting, David.” Another fleeting look of apprehension flashed in Mrs. Lawson’s eyes, making it clear that being married to Mr. Lawson was a full time job in itself.

“Yes, I suppose we must.” David uttered a barely perceptible sigh. “It’s such a gorgeous day. Perhaps we could have lunch outside.”

“What a marvelous idea!” Stephanie clapped her hands. “I’ll tell the cook.”

“Wait, dear. I’m not sure that’ll be possible on such short notice…” Mrs. Lawson began.

“Nonsense. Louise will do anything for David.” Without another word, Stephanie started skipping toward the house.

“Looks like Stephanie has figured out how to run this household.” David’s eyes shone with affection as he watched his sister disappear behind the road bend.

“All right. Let’s go, you two.” Mrs. Lawson looped her arm through Claire’s. “I’m so glad that you could come and see us, Claire. Allan and I are so happy to be a part of your and David’s big day. I hope we’ll get a chance to chat later. I can’t wait to learn more about David’s girl.”

“Thank you, Sylvie. I really appreciate your inviting us for the weekend. David’s told me so much about you.” The last part was not true at all – David had been conspicuously silent about his parents. Claire had always attributed this fact to David’s sensitivity about “having it made” as Allan Lawson’s son, but now, noticing the way Sylvie lowered her eyes at her polite remark, she was no longer sure.

“David, my boy, it’s about time.” Allan Lawson put aside his paper and glanced at the clock on the wall. From a distance, he looked to be in his late fifties. He still had a full head of hair, albeit gray, and his trim, toned body was clad in well-fitted, weekend clothes.

The living room was enormous in size, with carefully placed designer furniture and custom-made drapes. Everything was either pastel or beige, with color being allowed only for the art pieces that adorned the white-washed walls. Out of the corner of her eye, Claire glanced at the impressive art collection and recognized Matisse and Picasso. Those were no lithographs either, but originals she remembered seeing catalogued in private collections.

“Father, you remember Claire?” David smiled as they approached Allan Lawson’s chair.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Allan Lawson made a jerky move to get up, but he sank back into his seat awkwardly. A brief expression of frailty crossed his face, betraying his real age, which had to be somewhere around seventy. David rushed to his side. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” Mr. Lawson waved David’s arm away. “Very nice to see you again, Claire.”

“Likewise.” Claire smiled as Mr. Lawson took her hand. By now Mr. Lawson had recovered his composure. His handshake was one of the firmest Claire had ever encountered.

“Lunch will be at one, dear.” Sylvie Lawson appeared by her husband’s side. “Claire, you must be exhausted from the drive. Let me show you to your room.”

Claire cast a brief glance at David, hoping he would come along.

“Go ahead.” David smiled. “I’m going to keep Dad
company
.”

“It’s just up the stairs,” Mrs. Lawson began when Stephanie appeared in the hallway.

“I convinced Louise to serve lunch outside,” Stephanie announced.

“Wonderful.” Mrs. Lawson patted her daughter on the arm. “I was just about to show Claire to her room.”

“I can do that.” Stephanie jumped up and down. “Please, let me!”

“Oh, sure. I’ve got to go check on the kitchen anyway. I’ll see you later, Claire.”

“Come on, I’ll race you!” Before Claire could say a word, Stephanie dashed up the stairs.

“I won!” Stephanie announced triumphantly when Claire joined her.

“Yes, you did.” Claire smiled, trying to keep the puzzled expression off her face. In the words of
Alice
upon finding herself in
Wonderland
, things were getting
curiouser
and
curiouser
.

“Your room is this way.” Stephanie grabbed Claire’s hand and pulled her down the corridor. “
Tadaaa
!” Stephanie swung the door open and twirled inside.

“It’s lovely.” Clair noticed that her overnight bag had been brought up. The guest room was as opulent as the rest of the house – a four-poster bed, a fancy dresser, and an antique writing desk.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Stephanie pulled open the closet door. “It’s black tie for dinner, so Mom’s prepared this dress for you.” Stephanie pulled out a ruffled gown of pink silk. “And shoes.” Stephanie held up a pair of silk pumps.

“It’s gorgeous!” Clair touched the silky fabric. “I just hope it will fit.”

“Size four?”

“I’m afraid not. I wear a six.”

“That sounds just like Mom. Leave it to her to instill an inferiority complex for wearing a perfectly suitable dress size.” Stephanie shook her head.

“I guess my cocktail dress will have to do.” Claire unzipped the travel bag with her dress and held it up for Stephanie’s examination.

“Come with me.” Stephanie grabbed Claire’s hand and steered her into the hallway.

“Here we are.” Stephanie flung open the door to her room and headed for the walk in closet. “Let’s see – size six…”

Claire followed and was struck speechless by what she saw next. Being inside Stephanie’s closet was like walking into Saks or Bergdorf. There were endless rows of garments arranged by style and size, complete with a floor-to-ceiling shoe rack that housed a collection of shoes that could only be rivaled by that
of Imelda Marcos.

“How about this one?” Stephanie held out a pale-green gown by
Marchesa
. “Size
six,
and I’ve got the shoes and bag to match. What size shoes do you wear?”

“I’m an eight.”

“I wear eight and a half. We’ll just stuff them with paper. Go on, try the dress.”

Claire noticed that the tag was still attached to the dress.

“It’s lovely, Stephanie, thank you. But surely I’d be fine in my cocktail dress…”

“No, you won’t. There’ll be all kinds of big wigs at dinner, and you don’t want to start on the wrong foot. After all, we would not want the dress taste of David’s girlfriend to be the subject of the dinner conversation.”

Normally, Claire would have been offended by such a remark, but Stephanie’s tone of voice made it clear that she was on her side.

“Well, go on, try it on! You can close the closet door if you’re shy.”

Claire followed Stephanie’s suggestion and went inside the closet. It was bigger than most department store dressing rooms.

With the dress still half-unzipped, Claire opened the closet door, thinking that she must have misheard things.

“Here, let me zip you up.” Stephanie slid off the bed. “Perfect.”

Claire glanced at the mirror and was stunned by what she saw. The dress fitted her flawlessly, and the pale green of the fabric offset her eyes.

“I love it!”

“And if you ask me, it’s way better than that pink number Mom chose for you.
Turns out there’s
a silver lining to every cloud. I’ve got gowns in all sizes, courtesy of my little eating problem.”

Claire must have stared at Stephanie as though she had two heads, because Stephanie held up her hand.

“Well, don’t look at me like that. Why do you think my closet looks like a department store? It all started when I tried modeling. I used to be thin, you see, and by thin I mean I was one hundred and twenty pounds at five nine, but apparently that was not good enough for the modeling world, so they wanted me to go down to a hundred. I tried dieting, but the weight would not budge, so my friend Jamie sugge
sted I try this ADD drug that
suppresses appetite as a side effect. All the socialites are on it. I did and it worked, but my mind got all fuzzy, so then I tried good old purging and that worked at first, but then I became obsessed with food. It was like it was never enough. I literally could eat a dozen donuts in one sitting and then some. I mean, I daydreamed about eggs, bacon, cheese, steak, chocolate – you name it, I wanted it. So when I wasn’t working, I’d binge and then try to lose it real fast… I was living in Europe at the time, so that kept the
family off my back, but then it all kind of spiraled out of control when I gained thirty pounds in two months and could not drop it for the life of me. The well-wishers at the modeling agency called my loving mother, and she rushed to the rescue. Mind you, she was the one who got me into the modeling business in the first place – it was either that or marrying some balding investment banker. So, upon discovering my ‘breakdown,’ Dad and Mom shipped me off to this weight management clinic upstate. Well, after weeks of oatmeal that was worse than cardboard and boiled chicken breast, the weight finally came off. I’ve been getting some modeling work too – with any luck, I’ll be able to leave this lock-up soon and get my own place in the City.
And in the meantime, I keep up the fucked up, cookie girl act to keep any marriage ideas out of my old man’s head.”

“Wow, Stephanie, I had no idea…”

“Yes, it’s fucked up, I know, but I figured I might as well tell you now – would not want you hearing from dear old Mom or David about poor, delicate Stephanie.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. You know, if you’re interested in modeling, I can ask my friend, Amber. She’s a publicist, and she’s represented fashion models before.”

“Thanks, Claire – that’d be swell.” Stephanie grinned. “I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends. I’ll see you at lunch.”

Chapter 12

Back in his room, David loosened his shirt collar and plunked himself on the bed. He would have to get up in a minute, but for now he just wanted a few moments of uninterrupted peace. The weekend had only begun, and already he was exhausted. The old man was getting crankier by the minute, and David was fed up with dancing to his every whim. And his mother – his mother was being his mother, which meant that she was no help either. Well, at least Claire had met both of his parents’ approval, which meant that he could proceed with his plan. After all, he had brought her here for a reason. It was time to seal his future as the heir of the Lawson Enterprises, and in order to do that, David had to convince his father of his reliability. And what better way to demonstrate his ability to commit than to make an example of his personal life? Yes, marriage was the answer. David had put it off for as long as possible, but he knew that there was no way around it, and Claire was as good a choice as any. In fact, she was a very good choice, David was convinced. She did not ask too many questions or put excessive demands on his time. Claire would make the perfect Mrs. Lawson. And just because they got engaged did not mean that they would have to get married right away. There would be at least a year-long engagement to allow the necessary time for the wedding preparations, with which David was certain his mother would make herself useful. And who knew what could happen in a year? The old man seemed unusually frail today. As of late, he had made himself scarce at the office, and David had assumed that it was just another one of his father’s tests to see how David would cope with the business on his own. Yet after seeing his father’s frail appearance today, David was not so sure. Come to think of it, the old man was getting up in years. He would turn seventy-five next year. For an instant, David almost felt a pang of remorse, but only for an instant. The old man hardly inspired pity.