Harper's Submission [Golden Dolphin 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) (26 page)

Melanie took pity on her and said, “Girls, we can’t just keep people we like. We have to let them make up their own minds about what they want to do. Uncle Morgan and Harper will let us know when they decide what that is.” She smiled benevolently at her precocious twins. “Uncle Morgan knows what he has to do.” She grinned at her baby brother, and Harper could see the word “mine” glistening in her eyes. But then she smiled the beautiful, dimpled Court smile at Harper, and the word glistening in her eyes changed to “ours.” Harper could see that Melanie would be a fast and loyal friend, as long as she treated her precious baby brother right.

Morgan Court’s Office at Court Industries, New York City, Friday, December 5, 2013, 12:30 p.m.

On Friday afternoon, Morgan was at his desk answering e-mails when his assistant buzzed him. “You have a visitor. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says you’ll see him. His name is Jamie Devereau.” Morgan could hear the awe in his assistant’s voice. Jamie had that effect on women of all ages, backgrounds, and political persuasions. He was a bona fide bad-boy chick magnet, although now a happily married one.

“Send him in.” Morgan stood up, and the old friends greeted each other with back pounding and hand shaking. Jamie was dressed to kill. The investment banker and hedge fund manager looked dangerous despite his gray silk three-piece suit set off with a red striped tie. His five o’clock shadow was just starting to make an appearance and highlighted his chiseled features.

“I had some business in the city, so I thought I’d drop in. How’s it going?”

“Good now that the Maxprotem trials are back on track. That was hairy, to say the least. You probably have seen Harper on the
Today Show,
et cetera. Oh, and please thank the
Golden Dolphin
crew for packing our belongings and having them delivered. Harper and I greatly appreciated it. I’ll send a basket of fruit and a more tangible thank you to the wharf if they’re still docked.”

“No problem. They’re still at the dock. They were happy to do it. I need to thank Harper for her invaluable assistance when the Burke problem broke. And yes, I’ve seen Harper on the news. She’s a beauty, you dog, you. And as usual, you were conspicuously absent. I have to admit you’re good.”

“It’s a skill. So what’s up?”

“I made a little acquisition and thought I would come up and see to it myself. You know that little rag paper Burke worked for, the
World Tipster
—that name’s gotta go. I decided I didn’t want any more problems with the ‘press,’ so I bought it.”

“You didn’t. I can’t believe it. I told Harper you had a Saint Michael the Archangel complex, and I was right. Are you nuts? You need that crappy newspaper like you need a case of…”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I just didn’t want any loose ends hanging out there. I’ll let it get on its feet and then do something with it. In the meantime I fired the editor, Maurie Cullen. He’s probably still sputtering with outrage and yammering on about the freedom of the press. I put the fear of God and the mafia into him. I don’t know where he got the idea that I’m ‘connected,’ but I didn’t disabuse him of the notion.”

“That was a good move. I think I know. I believe Harper might have intimated that you had a ‘bent nose,’ or something like that. I think she really only meant that your nose is big and that you’re completely ugly and repulsive.”

Jamie laughed. “Is that so? That’s a good one. I also hired your good buddy, Harmon Burke, to be the editor-in-chief, with the proviso that the paper is now going to be a community voice heavily into local advertising and coupons. I don’t think he was too happy about that part, but he was glad to have a job and to finally be the man in charge. I told him to redecorate his office and to get the rag in order and making money. If he can do that, I’ll work something out for him.”

“How is Anne? How’s married life treating you?”

“She’s great. I love it. You should give it a try.”

Morgan smiled a wide grin. “That’s the plan. Let me show you something.” He opened his desk drawer and took out a small black velvet box. He opened it and showed the contents to Jamie.

“Geez, Court. Shut that thing. You’re blinding me. No, really. Congratulations, man.”

“Not yet. I still have to convince Harper. I think she’s a little gun-shy, but I’m working on it. So what’s the next cruise for the
Golden Dolphin
?”

“Miami to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, for Carnaval in February and then possibly Alaska in the spring. Want to go? I’m taking Anne to Rio, and I believe my brother and his wife are planning to go and maybe some of the Ocala crew.”

“I’d love it. Let me see what I can work out. I guess the master suite won’t be available.”

“Sorry, no. I’ll be using it myself. But we’ve got fifteen others to choose from.”

Morgan Court’s Beach House, East Hampton, New York, Wednesday, Christmas Morning, December 25, 2013

The light dusting of snow that covered the ground had been an unexpected gift since the weatherman had predicted clear skies and no precipitation. The family was gathered around the enormous Christmas tree in the great room of Morgan’s beach house. Allie and Addie were all but buried in mounds of crinkled wrapping paper and bows. It seemed that, despite their worries to the contrary, Santa had found them in East Hampton. When they had plowed through all of Santa’s contributions, as well as the pile of presents from their parents, Morgan smiled at them and said, “There are three more packages for you guys behind the tree. They’re from Harper and me.”

Allie and Addie quickly scrambled under the bows of the heavily ornament-laden tree and pulled out the gaily wrapped packages. There were two long boxes, one tagged for Allie and one tagged for Addie. There was also one big box tagged with both their names. They tore into the individual packages first and found twin American Girl dolls that Harper had custom designed to look just like Allie and Addie. The packages included a collection of matching outfits and the accessories that every self-respecting doll had to have, including riding outfits. He knew the girls would be thrilled to add the new dolls to their collections. Morgan was amazed at how much the dolls actually did resemble the girls.

Next they decimated the wrapping on the big package. When they had stripped most of the paper away, their delighted screeches could be heard all over the house as they beheld the custom-made wooden stable complete with fenced turn-out paddocks, a hot-walker, and all the necessary accessories, including a miniature carriage and exact replicas of Shadow and Ollie standing in their stalls with tiny hay nets full of green hay. The detail was amazing, and the handiwork was beautiful. Morgan had searched high and low for the right artisan to make the stable and had ordered it in July.

The adults had exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve after the girls were in bed. Morgan had gotten Harper a diamond tennis bracelet, and she had gotten him an authentic hand-knit Irish fisherman’s sweater through a friend who lived in Dublin. Harper’s friend, Kerry O’Donnelly, had a connection with an old woman in one of the seaside villages who actually made the sweaters to order. It was a work of art and completely unique since Harper had been able to choose some of the special stitches herself. The old woman, while practicing an ancient art, was apparently very computer savvy. He could tell that Harper had been nervously waiting for a delivery before Christmas, and she had relaxed after she had gotten a package from FedEx on Monday, just in time for the holiday.

* * * *

While the girls set up the stable on the rug in front of the Christmas tree, Harper and Melanie went into the kitchen to start breakfast. Morgan’s housekeeper, Mrs. J., had stocked the kitchen and left a fully prepared Christmas dinner in the refrigerator before she went to her daughter’s house for the holiday, but they were on their own for breakfast. Harper put on the coffee and started the bacon frying while Melanie made the batter for the girls’ favorite blueberry pancakes.

“We work very well together, Harper. I’m really glad you’re here to share Christmas morning with us. I can see that Morgan is, too. There’s not much he can hide from me.” She had a little smirk on her face. Harper could see that she was a force to be reckoned with.

“Ha! Good to know. Now I know where to go when I want the real scoop.”

“Anytime, girlfriend. I love to put the occasional fly in his ointment, or whatever that saying is.” She was looking in the drawers and cabinets for a spatula to stir the batter when she found a small box. “What’s this?” She opened it and found a collection of fortune cookie strips. “For heaven’s sake. Why would my crazy brother save these?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of the fortune cookie game?” Harper grinned and filled her in.

“That’s hysterical! I think I’ll order Chinese for New Year’s Eve. We’re staying home this year to watch the ball drop in Times Square on television. I really don’t like to be out in all that craziness.”

* * * *

After breakfast had been wolfed down and the kitchen mess cleared away, Morgan took Harper’s hand and said, “Let’s run out to the stables. Shadow and Ollie have to get their Christmas morning goodies. Let’s make our escape while the girls are busy with their new stuff, or they will want to come.”

Morgan pulled on his new Irish sweater and helped Harper on with her Shearling jacket. They made a beeline for the Escalade before anyone noticed they were gone. When they arrived at the stables, Shadow and Ollie had their heads poked out of their stall windows waiting for their treats. Morgan dispensed carrots and apples from the twenty-pound bags he had in the back of the car.

“Boy, you really come prepared.”

“Of course. I always leave a couple of bags of carrots and apples for everyone in the barn. Most everyone does something special for Christmas morning. You know, these guys are our best friends, and they deserve to participate in the holiday.”

“I know. I brought something special as well.” Harper’s eyes looked a little misty to him, and he put his arm around her shoulder as she continued. “When I was a kid, one of my friends told me about one of her family traditions. Since I didn’t have any great ones of my own, I always remembered it. She said her great-grandmother always made a loaf of bread with a clove of garlic hidden in the center especially for each horse on Christmas morning. They had draft horses they used to pull wagons of produce to market from the family farm. Barbara and her family always continued that tradition.” He could hear the strain in her voice. Morgan looked away to give her a moment. She gathered her composure and petted Shadow and Ollie. Then she took the small loaves of bread from a bag in her tote. She ripped them apart and fed them to the horses. The smell of the freshly baked loaves and garlic was enticing, and the horses loved it.

“Well, we have a new family tradition. We’ll do this every year. I’m going to hitch them up, and we’ll take a drive.” When he had checked the harness and all the equipment, he handed Harper up into gleaming Meadowbrook carriage that had been gaily decorated by his groom with a garland of pine with red ribbon and sleigh bells.

“This must be your special Sunday go-to-meeting carriage. I love the bentwood trim. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s an antique. I found it in some farmer’s barn up in Connecticut and had it restored a few years ago. I usually only use it for special occasions. The guys and I like to bomb around the neighborhood in the war wagon we used last time.”

They went out the back gate and down the snow-covered back road to the merry jingle of the sleigh bells and the sprightly cadence of the horses’ trotting hooves hitting the ground. They hadn’t gone far when Morgan pulled the team into a secluded park area overlooking a pine-shaded salt marsh. He set the brake and turned in his seat. “I have one more present for you and a question to ask.”

“Oh, Morgan, the bracelet was lovely and much too expensive as it is.”

He looked into her huge blue eyes. He had been planning this since November, and now he was worried about what her response would be. He took a deep breath. “Harper Cameron, will you do me the honor of being my wife?” He felt a little funny about the formal sound of the proposal. “I love you and want you to share my life. I want us to share each other’s lives. I’m making a mess of this. I guess you can tell I’m a little nervous.” He knew his smile had an uncertain caste.

She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in the soft wool of the Irish sweater. When she had gathered herself, she looked up into his penetrating black gaze. “I would be honored to be your wife, Morgan Court. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than share your life.”

He held her gaze for a moment and then lowered his head. He took her mouth in a warm kiss that quickly escalated with the fierce possession he always felt for her. When they came up for air, he said, “I almost forgot!” He pulled the black box out of his pocket and opened it. The three-carat Asscher-cut canary diamond surrounded by two brilliant white one-carat round-cut side stones blazed up from the bed of black velvet. “I wanted it to be something special, different from what everyone else has.”

* * * *

Harper gasped in a sharp breath. He took the ring from the box and slipped in on the third finger of her left hand. She was blown away. It was stunning. She had seen canary diamonds in the windows of the “red” and “blue” box stores on Fifth Avenue, and she had all but drooled over the beautiful settings, but she had never imagined she would be wearing one. That was all wonderful, and she was excited, but the best part was the meaning behind the ring—the promise of a lifetime of love and support and hopefully a family of her own. A few months ago, she would have said this was impossible, that it was a pipe dream that could only happen to someone else. Now she had her very own happy ever after.