Unwrapped (24 page)

Patrick.

Jacqueline.

And Baby Lulu.

T
hrowing a party wasn't as easy as it had been when Wheezie was twenty years younger. With only minutes left before people started showing up, she was up to her sagging chin in preparations. It didn't help that her hip was bothering her more than normal. Or that Barkley had disappeared for two days and wasn't answering his cell phone. Hopefully, he was still getting someone to pose as Gabby's father. Of course with Barkley, it was hard to tell. The man had a mind of his own—and another life Wheezie knew nothing about.

The only bright spot of the day was Patrick's early arrival with Jacqueline and Gerald. Not only because Wheezie could use the help, but also because she was finally able to witness for herself how the newlyweds were doing. From the looks of things, pretty damn well.

“I told you to stay out of that oven, Patrick McPherson.” Jacqueline swatted at Patrick with a dish towel. “If you keep opening the door, the pigs in a blanket are never going to get done.”

“But I'm hungry,” Patrick pleaded. “I haven't eaten anything since your skillet egg dish at breakfast.”

She took a carrot stick from the vegetable-and-dip tray on the counter. “Here, eat this.”

He took the carrot from her hand, but didn't bite into it. Instead he pulled Jacqueline into his arms and nibbled on her neck. “How about if I eat this?”

Wheezie's heart warmed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Patrick so playful and happy. It looked like he'd finally discovered the joys of marriage. Which meant that Wheezie's days of soul mating were coming to an end. She didn't know why she suddenly felt so depressed. Wasn't that what she'd been asking for? A little rest and relaxation? Of course now wasn't the time for rest and relaxation.

Having found the napkins she'd been looking for on the kitchen table, Wheezie took them back into the dining room. Gerald was putting the finishing touches on the huge floral arrangement that sat in the center of the table while Gabby feasted on the pigs in a blanket Jacqueline had sneaked by Patrick and placed on the table earlier.

“These are great, Geri.” Gabby spoke with a full mouth. “With the way you arrange flowers and Jacqueline's cooking skills, I don't understand why your event planning business hasn't taken off.”

Gerald carefully placed another white rose in the midst of the bright-red poinsettias. “Probably because we pretty much suck at the business side of things. I'm good at planning parties and creative with flowers and design, and Jac can cook, but neither one of us are good at managing time or money.”

Wheezie arranged the cloth napkins in a neat column. “It sounds to me like you just need an office manager…and maybe some new clientele in a new city.”

Gerald shot her an inquisitive look that quickly turned to a knowing one. “Are you talking about moving the business to Denver, Miss Wheezie?”

She loved a quick mind. It saved so much time. “Why not? It's as plain as the purple velvet of your sports coat that Jacqueline will miss you something terrible when you return to New York City. And since we can't have a mother-to-be upset, I'm thinking that Denver is a perfect place for you to restart your business. Why, with Mary Katherine's friends alone, you'll have more business than you can handle.”

“She's right,” Gabby said. “My grandma's friends love to throw parties. And if you move here, you could hire me to be your office manager. My dad says I have a real business head on my shoulders.”

Gerald sent her a genuine smile. “I'm sure you do. But while I like Denver, I can't leave Bailey. Especially now that Jacqueline isn't going back.”

Wheezie stopped arranging the napkins. “Now that she's not going back? Was she going back before?”

Gerald's face turned as red as the poinsettias. “Did I say
now
? What I meant was since—since Jacqueline is married and won't be living in New York, I don't want to leave Bailey.”

“Gabby,” Wheezie said, “why don't you go see if Jacqueline needs any help in the kitchen?”

That was the good thing about the teenager: She knew how to take a hint without a lot of questions. She glanced between Wheezie and Gerald before she grabbed another pastry-wrapped cocktail frank and left the room. When she was gone, Wheezie sat down in the chair.

“So let's not beat around the bush, Gerald. Was Jacqueline planning on leaving Patrick?”

He swallowed hard and glanced at the kitchen. “Yes. But she's not planning on leaving him anymore.”

“And I suppose that her leaving had to do with Frances's will?” She wasn't surprised when he nodded. She knew the will had played into their marriage somehow, but had been unable to find out exactly how. “What was the stipulation?”

Releasing his breath, Gerald sank down in the chair across from Wheezie. “In order to inherit her aunt's money, she needed to marry a man in her aunt's social circle and stay married to him for a year.”

Wheezie hesitated for only a second before stating her mind. “Why that crazy bitch.”

Gerald laughed. “She was crazy and a very unhappy woman. Which was why she hated Jac so much. Jac has always looked on the bright side of things. And Mrs. Rosenblum never forgave Jac for writing the letter and pretty much forcing her to acknowledge her orphaned nieces—and her poor upbringing. I really think Mrs. Rosenblum put the stipulation in her will hoping to make Jac as miserable as she was. She must be rolling in her grave knowing Jac has finally found happiness.”

Wheezie studied him. “Has she?”

He met her gaze. “I truly believe that Jac loves Patrick, Miss Wheezie. And once she loves someone, she'll be loyal to them until the day she dies.”

“So I guess Patrick doesn't know about the will.”

“Not yet. But Jac's going to tell him soon.”

Wheezie got to her feet and pointed a finger at him. “Absolutely not. Sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie or hot-tempered Scots stay in the dark. If Jacqueline loves him, telling him about the stipulation will make no difference now.”

“But I thought the best marriages were built on truth.”

“That's poppycock. The best marriages are built on love. And sometimes you need to love someone enough to save them from the truth.” The phone rang, and she waved a hand at the kitchen. “Now get in there and make sure Jacqueline keeps her lips zipped.”

Once Gerald was gone, Wheezie shuffled over to the buffet and answered the phone. She was surprised when Mary Katherine's voice came through the receiver.

“How's the party going, Louise?”

“So far, so good,” Wheezie said. “Although the majority of the family hasn't gotten here yet. And Cassie just called and said that she and James had to cancel their trip to see his parents because Jace came down with an ear infection and couldn't fly. Where are you? I thought you'd be somewhere over the Atlantic by now.”

“Oh, Louise”—her usually calm voice broke—“I've really messed things up this time.”

“Take a deep breath, Mary Katherine, and tell me what happened.”

“We're stuck in Kansas City in a blizzard. No flights are coming in or going out.” She sniffed. “Now I'm not going to spend Christmas with my family or on a cruise ship with my husband.”

Wheezie might've felt sorry for her niece if Mary hadn't made her own bed. “Which is exactly what you deserve for not telling Albert the truth in the first place.”

“And you don't think that I don't know that, Louise?” She sniffed. “I should've told him long before tonight.”

“So how did he take it?”

“The ornery man laughed. And not just a chuckle, but an out-and-out belly laugh. Then he picked me up off my feet in a bear hug before he walked off without a word. I wouldn't be surprised if he's left me for good.”

Wheezie snorted. “That's doubtful. We McPhersons don't give up on people that easily. I'm sure he's gone to see if he can't find a way home.”

“You think?”

“Either that, or a shot of whiskey.” Something Wheezie could certainly use. The doorbell rang, and with everyone in the kitchen, it was up to her to answer it. “Listen, Mary Katherine, I've got to go. But I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself and find that nephew of mine and do some serious kissing up.”

Within fifteen minutes of her hanging up with Mary Katherine, Wheezie's house was filled to the rafters with celebrating Scots. Christmas music came from Gabby's phone, which she'd plugged into a small speaker, and laughter rang out as the relatives fueled up on spiked eggnog and Jacqueline's hors d'oeuvres. Wheezie would've liked to try one herself, but she was too busy answering the door as more and more people arrived.

“Merry Christmas, Wheezie,” Sidney, Ellie's best friend, said as she stepped inside.

“Merry Christmas yourself.” Wheezie nodded at the bag of packages she carried. “It looks like you've done some shopping.”

“They're Matthew and Ellie's gifts for you.” She held the bag in one hand while Wheezie helped her off with her coat. “They dropped them by before they left on Friday morning.”

“Have you heard from her and Matthew?”

“I talked with her this morning. And I couldn't help but get the feeling that she and Matthew would've been happier staying here in their new home.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense,” Wheezie said. “With the baby coming, Ellie's in the nesting stage.”

“Thankfully, that's something I know nothing about.” Sidney held up the bag. “Where do you want these?”

Wheezie led her over to the Christmas tree in front of the window and helped her take the presents from the bag and stack them beneath the tree.

“Before I forget,” Sidney said, “Rory called and wanted me to change the tickets for the Polar Express from tonight to earlier this afternoon. I guess they missed Gabby and wanted to cut their trip short. They should be here any moment.” Gabby came into the room, and Sidney leaned in to whisper. “But don't say anything. I think they want to surprise her.”

Oh, it would be a surprise all right. Especially if Wheezie couldn't get ahold of Barkley and stop him from walking in with Gabby's fake bio dad. Unfortunately, as if on cue, the doorbell rang, and before Wheezie could shuffle over there, Gabby beat her to it. If the hesitant, uncertain look on Gabby's face was any indication, it was too late to call Barkley.

“Hi,” Gabby said in a soft voice. “Won't you come in?” She held open the door, and a bald, studious-looking man with glasses stepped in who had to be five inches shorter than Gabby. Wheezie rolled her eyes. This was supposed to be a truck-driving redneck who'd played quarterback in high school? It was the last time she would trust Barkley.

“Hello,” the man said as he fidgeted with the lapels of his overcoat. “I hope I'm not intruding, but the need was too great to put things off any longer.”

Oh, brother. Talk about overacting. Wheezie was really going to bawl out Barkley for hiring this yahoo.

Gabby's brow knotted. “But if you felt that way, why didn't you come sooner?”

“I tried to make contact before, but things didn't work out. Running a charity takes a lot of time and energy—especially during the holidays.”

Wheezie decided it was time to jump in. “That being the case, I'm sure you can't stay long.” She glanced out the window, hoping Amy and Rory got stuck in traffic. “In fact, why don't you and Gabby exchange numbers and you can call each other and gab at a more convenient time. Like when you get back from your missionary work in Africa.”

“Africa?” Gabby's eyes widened. “You're going to Africa?”

The not-too-swift actor shook his head. “No. There must be some mistake. My charity work isn't in Africa. I run a nonprofit organization here in the States.”

Wheezie rolled her eyes. Great, they had an ad-libber on their hands. The doorbell rang and, fearful it was Amy and Rory, Wheezie grabbed both Gabby's and the actor's arms and pulled them toward her sun-room. “Why don't you two sit and chat in here for a moment while I run and get some snacks.” She pushed them inside the room and closed the pocket doors before shuffling back to answer the front door. She opened it to find Barkley standing there with a tall man in a cowboy hat, Western suit, and boots. They had barely stepped inside when Barkley growled at the man under his breath.

“Remember your manners.”

Looking fearful, the man doffed his hat and smiled weakly. “Hello, ma'am. Merry Christmas to you.”

Wheezie looked at Barkley in confusion. “Please tell me that this is your date for the evening.”

“His date?” Gerald suddenly appeared holding a tray. His eyes traveled Barkley's length before he smiled like a cat with a canary. “I knew I loved you, Aunt Wheezie.” He held out the tray to Barkley and batted his eyelashes. “Pig in a blanket?”

Barkley ignored the obvious come-on. “No, thanks.” He glanced around. “Where's Gabby?”

It finally dawned on Wheezie who the man with Barkley was. She studied the man in the suit. At least this one looked like a redneck quarterback. But if he was the actor, then who was with Gabby?

Just then the door to the sun-room opened, and Gabby stepped out. Her gaze wandered around the room until it stopped on Wheezie's. The disbelief in her eyes pretty much said that the jig was up. But before Wheezie could figure a way out of the mess she'd made, Rory came in the door carrying Douglas.

“Surprise!” he yelled as Amy followed behind him with a bright smile on her face. Neither one of them hesitated before walking over to Gabby and enfolding her in a group hug.

“We couldn't leave our Gabriella on Christmas,” Rory said. “I don't care how old and mature she thinks she is.”

“So that's my kid?”

Everyone turned to the cowboy in the suit, who was staring at Gabby. “She sure don't look a thing like me,” he said. “She looks just like her mama.” He glanced at Amy. “Hey, Amy. How's it goin'?”