Gillian's Do-Over (25 page)

“We’ll find out soon enough. I
put you next to Trudi. Maybe you could tie her to her chair so she doesn’t lunge at Parker or poor Sara. Or sedate her. Did you bring those needles with you?”

Mo chuckled. “You’re going to pay me big
time for this, Gillian. You never mentioned I was to be the bodyguard for the bride’s father when you roped me into being your date for this little gathering.”

“
I didn’t know how bad it might get. I apologize. Please hurry. Everyone is grabbing seats. I have to make sure they take the right ones.” She hustled back into the room and proceeded to point people to the correct chairs.

Gillian rose from her seat when the wines
were delivered to the table. “Time to toast Quinn and Bianca.” She waited until all had raised their glasses.

“To Quinn,” her voice caught for a moment as she looked at her only child, images of him at different ages flitting through her brain. He elevated his glass slightly. “And his beautiful bride, Bianca. I never was privileged to have a daughter. I hope you don’t mind that I now think of you as mine—
in addition to your parents, of course.” She dared to sneak a quick peek in Trudi’s direction. The woman wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t exactly frowning. Gillian took that as a good sign. “May we all enjoy tonight’s dinner and the festivities tomorrow.”
And, please God, no unexpected rains for at least twenty-four hours
.

Glasses clinked around the table. Gillian sat down. Mo beamed at her and
whispered, “Good job.”

The soup and salad courses proceeded without a hitch.
Polite conversation ebbed and flowed around the table as the entrées were delivered. Gillian began to relax. Maybe Trudi had exhausted her anger at the wedding rehearsal and would keep making nice.

The
table was cleared, drinks were refreshed, and the dessert brought in. Parker rose from his seat, smiling at Gillian and at Bianca. “I want to thank Ms. Griffiths—Gillian—for putting on this wonderful rehearsal dinner and for welcoming Bianca into her family. Quinn”—he raised his glass in his future son-in-law’s direction—“Welcome. And let me just say that you’re marrying a wonderful girl.” His eyes welled when his daughter wiped a tear from her cheek. “She’s a handful, but a wonderful handful. I never imagined she’d bring me such a talented son-in-law, but, as usual, she exceeded my dreams for her.” Parker sat down and used his napkin to wipe his face.

What a lovely thing to say.
Gillian smiled at Parker, wishing he didn’t live so far away. Maybe she would add London to her bucket list and visit him and Silent Sara. Before she slid deeper into imaginings, she glanced up to see Trudi rising from her seat. Mo grabbed Gillian’s hand and squeezed.

“Well,” the woman’s voice grated. “I’m glad Bianca finally found a man who
can tolerate her busy schedule. Maybe he’ll even be able to convince Bianca to make a baby or two. Although how she can possibly take care of them along with a busy legal practice, I can’t imagine.” She sniffed and seemed to purse her lips in Quinn’s direction.

Gillian stifled a tiny gasp as Bianca’s hands came up to her face. Didn’t
Trudi know about Bianca’s tubal pregnancy?

“Not that he was the first one who tried to rope in Bianca
and get her to see the error of her busy professional ways. Thank you, Quinn.” She raised her glass again and tipped it just enough that the wine sloshed over the side and down her arm.

The hugely overweight
Diggy staggered out of his chair. “That’s enough,” he muttered, seeming to speak only to Trudi but loud enough that all around the table heard it.

“
I’m not done.” Trudi jerked her hand away from him, losing still more of the drink in her half-empty glass. “As for
my
daughter becoming
yours—
” she glared at Gillian’s side of the table—“well, you’ll have to get in line. She was mine first, and she’ll
stay
mine!”

Gillian was mortified that her welcoming remarks could h
ave been so badly misconstrued. Bianca looked horrified. She started to rise. Quinn stood up, too.

Bianca looked squarely at
Trudi. “Mother. You’ve had too much to drink. Not exactly a surprise. I’m going to assume that’s why you said what you did. Just so we’re clear, I treasure that Quinn’s mother thinks of me as a daughter. I
want
to be a daughter to her. She’s been nothing but kind to me and understanding, even when she didn’t know me very well.” Bianca gave Gillian a little nod and half-smile.

“
You
never have—except when it suited you.” She sucked in a breath that sounded like a squeak. “You were so nasty to Daddy this afternoon and it looks like you came here to ruin my day. If it hadn’t been for Doctor Mo, you would have succeeded.” Bianca looked like she was about to burst into tears. “But you’re
not
going to ruin my wedding. If you can’t be civil to Daddy and me … and to Sara,” she added pointedly, “leave now. Tonight. And just so we’re clear. I asked Daddy to walk me down the aisle because I love him and he loves me, and I knew he’d want to support me.” She seemed to collapse into Quinn’s arms.

Mo looked at Gillian
and murmured, “Time for this to end.” He stood up. “It’s getting late, folks. I think we all need our beauty sleep for the wedding tomorrow afternoon. How about we call it a night?”

Parker reached for Sara’s wrap and draped it across her shoulders.
He motioned to Quinn. “We’ll find our way back to the hotel, son. Don’t worry about us.”

Diggy
hauled himself out of his seat, still hanging on to Trudi, who couldn’t seem to take her eyes off her daughter. She straightened up until she was standing next to her obese escort, swiveled on one heel and marched toward the exit.

Gillian approached Quinn and Bianca, who was now weeping.
“My dear. I’m so sorry about what just happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Bianca gasped. “She’s always been like that. Always thinking of herself. That’s why I left home when I went away to college. I knew she didn’t approve
of me having a career, but I was so hoping she’d see how much I love being a lawyer.”

Mo intervened by giving Bianca a hug. “I hope you don’t mind my making an observation.” His eyes twinkled merrily in his round face. “Your mother seems to have substit
uted a really rotund man for a thin one. Otherwise, those two men look like two peas from the same pod!”

Bianca choked and started to laugh. Quinn burst out laughing. Gillian poked Mo and grinned. “Oh, Mo.”

“Sorry, but I couldn’t resist. Let me get you home. You have a wedding to get ready for.”

Gillian nodded, gave Bianca a hug and one for Quinn, too. “I’ll see you
two tomorrow. Try not to worry.”

“Right, Mom, thanks.”
Quinn reached for Bianca’s hand.

Mo drove Gillian to the hotel where she retrieved her clothes
. He then followed her to her car. “You’re okay to drive home after all the hijinks? How much wine did you have?”

“Not
nearly enough. And yes, I’m fine for driving home. You went above and beyond, Mo. Thank you. I owe you
two
dinners. One is not nearly enough to pay you back.”

“I’ll
pick you up tomorrow.”

“
Are you sure you want to come—and risk being assaulted by Queen Trudi?”

“
I wouldn’t miss it for the world. She’s better than a comedy show. Her and Mr. Parsnips.”

Gillian giggled. “Then I’ll see you
tomorrow.”

Chapter
16

Matt watched as the last
of Marnie’s medical paraphernalia was carted down the stairs and out the door. “Thanks, guys. ’Preciate it.” He shut the door behind the moving men. The big truck lumbered off, leaving quiet in the wake of its engine, previously throbbing heavily in the driveway.

Well, that’s done.
Matt climbed the stairs and spent the next hour sweeping and cleaning the room. He opened the windows wide, to catch the breeze that fluttered the light drapes. The smell of sickness he’d come to associate with this particular room gradually dissipated. He replaced the old towels in the bathroom and scrubbed the sink, the toilet, the tub and finally the floor. The scent of the cleaning fluids flooded his nostrils, blocking out other odors, but not the memories. While the floor dried, he returned to the bedroom and pulled down the Murphy bed Marnie had never used. He redressed it with newly laundered sheets.
Probably unnecessary.
When would he be hosting overnight guests? But he felt a need to make the room clean again, new, for whomever would use the guest room, its original purpose. Maybe one of the boys.

He pulled out the blankets, folded them in the side dresser, and placed a white coverlet on the bed, tucked it in all around and closed the Murphy bed onto the wall.
The two occasional chairs he and Marnie sat in to watch old movies had been moved into the master bedroom. He returned them to the guest room and positioned them as they were before Marnie’s illness. He wiped an arm across his face, remembering how they’d held hands during their private movie dates, sharing their views of certain scenes, usually laughing at the same ones. He stood back to survey his work, closed the window and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Carl had called that morning, to ask how
Matt was doing, to say that he was getting out of the service as soon as his current term was up. “I should be home by the end of the month.”

“The
best news, son,” said Matt, relieved to know that Carl wasn’t going back into a war zone. Have you heard from Wes?”

“
We Skyped before he took off for another outpost. Glad I’m not in the Sandbox.”

“Where is he now?”

“He couldn’t say, but he’s due for regular leave in a month. He said something about trying to get home to see you.”

It would be good to
have both boys, now men, home. He and Wes had had their differences when his older son had insisted on accepting an assignment Matt considered too dangerous. He hoped Wes would forgive his words, spoken out of worry, not lack of confidence his boy could handle the assignment. “I hope he sticks to that plan.”

Carl had laughed.
“No chance he won’t. I challenged him to a game of Horse when he gets back.”

Matt had chuckled
at the mention of one of the games his boys had begun playing as soon as he’d taught them how to shoot a basketball. Carl had beaten him the day after Marnie’s memorial service.

Matt sighed. With nothing to do upstairs, Matt grabbed his
Reeboks and pulled them on. A walk in the park might work off his excess energy, his sense of incompleteness, of agitation about sticking around the house with nothing to occupy his muscles or his mind. He recalled TJ’s suggestion over dinner the previous night.

“
You’ve got an itch you aren’t scratching. Why don’t you ask Gillian out for dinner? You want to know if she feels anything for you, and I’m not thinking sympathy here, Matt. Does the woman like you? Ask her point-blank. See if anything’s there that might become something. If not, you can forget about her. Clear the decks and move on.”

He’d nodded
. The idea of dating no longer seemed out of the question when his sons
and
TJ had urged him to consider it. But he wasn’t sure he had the guts to ask Gillian and be rejected. With everything else that had occurred lately, rejection seemed like too much to have to deal with. Would she see him as someone other than her trust attorney? Someone other than a grieving widower? But TJ was right. Matt had to know for himself how she felt. Maybe she
would
go out with him. If not, he would force himself to move on.

He headed out the door in the direction of the park several blocks over. Maybe he’d see her painting or sketching.
She seemed to do that a lot these days. Gearing up to create new sets of note cards, she’d said, the last time he’d talked with her. She seemed happy creating a new career for herself. “Erstwhile artist,” she called herself that day.

“Local artist,” he countered. “Nothing erstwhile about it.”

Her sidelong smile told him she was pleased that he thought so.

Matt walked past the children’s slide
s, the squeals of a pair of girls on the swings punctuating the air as each sought to go higher than her friend. He watched as two mothers herded their toddlers away from the bigger children to a quieter spot on the grass.

He wandered near the bench where he’d seen Gillian so many times before.
Near where he’d kissed her. Today it was occupied by an elderly gentleman tossing seeds to a flock of birds skittering about on the grass, looking for the treats he had flung in an arc.

Disappointed that Gillian wasn’t
there, Matt debated hiking the trail that circled the park and then changed his mind. Perhaps she was home. He’d spotted her on the porch a couple of times, once with that big man who’d been chatting and laughing with her as she sketched, his arm draped over the back of her chair.

Maybe
Gillian was seeing that man, the one with the mustache. She was an attractive woman. No question about it. Other men would find her desirable. He picked up his pace. Time to find out if there was anyone serious in her life, and ask her out. Time to find out if she wanted to get to know him better, like he wanted to know her.

She’d
mentioned she’d gone on an online dating website. Maybe she’d already met men there, gone out with them. But didn’t she know how dangerous those sites could be? People lied about their age and intentions, uploaded fake pictures of themselves. Maybe he should warn her away from such places, but if he did, would she see through why he preferred that she not try to establish relationships with other men?

He stumbled slightly
when he moved off the grass and onto the sidewalk. Matt walked more slowly as he approached the intersection. Once across the street, he’d be a block from her house. Would she be surprised to see him in other than his work clothes?
Wake up, man. It’s Saturday.

He crossed the street and walked toward her house. Half a block away, he observed a car pull into her driveway. The
big man he’d seen on Gillian’s porch climbed out of a shiny black Mercedes sedan. He was dressed in a suit and he carried a package wrapped in white paper with a gold ribbon adorning the top. Gillian’s birthday? Matt slowed his pace.

Gillian was standing on the porch in a shimmery summer dress of pale pink. A tiny burgundy bouquet was pinned to her left shoulder. She was smiling down at the man as he stood on the sidewalk three steps below her
. Her words floated in Matt’s direction.

“You didn’t have to, Mo.”
She took the package from him, edged closer and bussed his cheek.

“I wanted to.”

Matt backed away
, and edged behind a large tree two houses away, close enough to hear their voices, not so close they would likely notice him. So she
was
seeing someone. It was only two o’clock in the afternoon. Awfully early to be going out to dinner. Unless they were hitting some other event first, like a party.

He watched as the man
called Mo opened the passenger door for Gillian, waited for her to be seated, and then shut the door before he went around the car to the driver’s side. Mo was beaming as he backed out of the driveway, turned and headed down the street.

Matt sighed.
Too late.
Gillian obviously was in a relationship. He turned on his heel and headed home.

Gillian’s face hurt from smiling so much and so long. The wedding—in spite of the scowls of Bianca’s mother throughout much of the ceremony and the nervous tic in Parker’s right cheek as he sat in a chair directly behind Trudi—had gone off without a hitch. The weather was perfect, the sky balmy with only a few puffy clouds to accent the blue, as sailboats dotted the waters of Lake Washington. But who was looking at the view? Gillian kept her eyes on Quinn and Bianca except for occasional—every other minute, actually—glances at Bianca’s parents. Mo sat close enough to Gillian for her to feel the warmth emanating from his sturdy body. Whenever she took a deep breath or started to dab at her face, he patted her hand, as if telling her he knew how she felt, that her heart was full, that she must be thinking of Quinn during his growing-up years and how handsome he was standing so tall and straight next to his radiant bride.

When the couple turned
to face their gathered friends and were introduced as husband and wife, Gillian couldn’t prevent a sigh from escaping. At a nod from the minister, she stood, one hand tucked into the crook of Mo’s elbow, and followed the bridal couple down the aisle. He beamed and whispered, “A lovely ceremony. You should be proud.”

She acknowledged him with a quick smile
and nodded at Lauren as she walked down the aisle.

“You two did it!”
Gillian exclaimed to Quinn and Bianca after her mother eased away in the direction of the food table, set up and waiting under a white canopy. Diggy was eyeing the options like a shark after a cluster of glossy seals. Gillian bussed Bianca’s cheek, slightly damp from tears of her own, before hugging Quinn tightly, not sure she could speak. “Well,” she finally managed to croak, “is there anything I can do to help you get going so nothing stops you from making your flight? Where
is
it you are going, honey? You never did say.”

He chuckled. “I guess it’s okay to tell you, but promise you’ll keep it to yourself. Bianca’s having nightmares that her mother will try to
follow us.”

The image of Quinn doing battle with his mother-in-law was
just what Gillian needed to hear. She laughed. “I promise. Whisper in my ear, if you’d like.”

Quinn leaned forward. “The
Baja. I found us a little village with a great hotel, tons of sandy beaches to roam and great fishing—if we decide to hire a boat.”

“Fabulous! When are you leaving?”

“We told her mother we’re spending tonight at our place, but our tickets are for tonight, late. So, the next time you see us, we’ll be sporting tans.”

“
You know how you burn, honey. Don’t forget the sunblock.” She patted his hand and looked lovingly at the young couple. Bianca was speaking quietly to her father, Sara standing at his side. Parker’s back was turned away from his ex-wife, but Gillian suspected he could feel the glare Trudi was slanting his way.

“Let me go talk
to Trudi, see if I can get her to chill. I’ll try to find out when she expects to go home.”

“Don’t you want something to eat?” Mo asked.

“Not yet. But Lauren might.” Gillian waved Lauren over. “You two know each other, right?”

Mo nodded
and urged Lauren ahead of him to a table where he’d set down two plates of hors d’oeuvres. “We’ll wait for you here.”

Gillian
waved him off and approached Trudi, who was muttering under her breath at Parsifal.

“
Diggy,” Gillian called out, afraid she was going to burst into giggles if she had to say his first name. He turned in her direction and gave her a sweet smile.

How can he be so nice, so accommodating
, when Trudi seems the very definition of a bitch with a capital B?

“Your son ma
kes a handsome bridegroom,” Diggy observed.

“I’m glad you think so. How are you and
Trudi doing? Getting ready to go back to the hotel, and then home?”

“I do hope so. Being in
Parker’s vicinity sets her teeth on edge,” he deadpanned, and then chuckled. “I’m sure you noticed.”

“
I suppose you know Quinn and Bianca are staying at their own place tonight.” She hated having to lie, but Quinn needed her support and no way was she going to give away his plans for making an early getaway.

Diggy
’s head bobbed as he answered for Bianca’s mother. “I told Trudi we should leave them be. Tonight is not the time for us to barge in on them.”

“
I’m glad we’re all agreed on that.” Gillian felt her cheeks flush, imagining her own wedding night so many years earlier, when the first of numerous disappointments had occurred in spite of her expectation that her marriage would span one joy-filled year after the next.

“Have you had something to eat, some champagne to drink? You
two
are
taking a cab back to the hotel, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Your son
’s people at the hotel are taking splendid care of us. Would you happen to know where Parker and Sara have been staying?”