It Started with a House... (18 page)

With that she held out the box.

Sydney eagerly accepted it and had paper flying to the floor before Bart could join her at her end of the table.
She chipped a red polished nail prying off the lid and then swatted away the tissue paper. With Bart's hands on her shoulders as he lowered his head next to hers, she stared at the framed photo of Genevieve's ultrasound. As Bart began to grin, she lifted it from the box and held it higher as one would a baby.

“Oh, Bart,” she said, her voice cracking. “We're going to have a grandson!”

“I
hope that before the night is over, I don't end up wishing that we had eloped after all.”

Hearing a hint of nerves in his bride-to-be's voice, Marshall backtracked to the bathroom and came behind Genevieve, where she stood before the master suite's vanity mirror. Gently grasping her by her shoulders, he kissed the back of her head and said, “Breathe, my love.”

She had agreed to move in with him shortly after Bart's attack and Riley's death. Along with their desire to be together so they could share every moment of her pregnancy, it cut down on back-and-forth travel, and it let her be closer to Bart, whom she increasingly referred to as “Dad,” much to Bart's delight.

But Marshall was as ready to finish getting this deed done and make her his wife, as she was to have this over. Genevieve—the woman who'd captured his imagination
and given him back his sanity. His impulse was to sweep her into his arms and carry her two doors down with or without the necklace he'd bought her for this occasion. He was all but exploding from eagerness, although he'd been restraining himself and acting like the calm voice of reason for her sake. The last thing he wanted was to add to her stress. As good as she was getting at allowing herself to see him as partner and someone she could lean on, he knew her independence was only one old habit away. He wasn't going to risk some shadow of a doubt making her back out of this wedding in the last minute.

Calmly taking over, he swept the shining cape that was her golden hair over one shoulder and fastened the clasp of the starburst diamond pendant. It was as finely formed as she was as it rested in the subtle cleavage exposed by the square neck of her ivory gown. The cocktail-length velvet empire-style dress concealed the subtle swell of her abdomen. She'd been firm about being discreet for this occasion in respect for the minister of her church who had graciously agreed to perform the service.

“Thank you,” she said with relief. “You have to promise to tell me if I start to sound even slightly high maintenance. I know what they say about daughters turning into their mothers, and I refuse to ‘Sydney' you.”

Chuckling dryly, Marshall added another kiss to the side of her neck—one of his many favorite spots on her body. “I actually think your mother is trying to turn over a new leaf or three by taking lessons from you. Bart confided in me the other day that he's never been prouder of her. She actually went golfing with him. Well, she stayed in the golf cart the whole time, but she went.”

Genevieve gaped. “He didn't tell me. Neither did she.”

“I think there was some romancing afterward and Sydney's probably afraid you'd make fun of her.”

“I'd hug her neck for remembering she had a husband and not just an escort to social galas and a backup checkbook. Oh, I hope they continue to behave tonight.”

“Genevieve, mine—” Marshall leaned over her shoulder to lean his cheek next to hers “—try to focus on what's about to happen. All I want is for you to enjoy this moment as much as I am. What are we looking at—two hours maximum before we can be alone again? We can handle that.”

She met his gaze in the mirror, her left eyebrow arching as her skepticism surfaced. “That's wonderful in theory. But you know it's been three whole days since I've dealt with this nausea, and I'm so feeling the potential for it happening again. What if it comes back right at the moment Pastor Jarvis starts the vows?”

Taking the role of the pragmatic, he massaged her shoulders and stroked her arms to continue soothing her. “We'll be asking a half-dozen people to be patient. That's hardly the entire congregation at the Washington Cathedral—or your church for that matter.” Having been at her side and witnessed all that she'd been through, he sympathized. “It's going to be fine, even if your mother is directing this. You probably also don't know that with her attempting to behave herself, Bart's been better at following his doctor's directives.”

He knew, though, that she'd experienced several challenging weeks. Along with Bart's health issue and old Riley passing, she had lost two contracts, and not due
to fair competition, either. She lost because two couples in her church were “offended” by her personal behavior that they claimed set a bad example for the community. He'd found it laughable how they—with seven children between them—could find love, enhanced by a healthy sexual attraction, offensive.

At least she'd been spared the crass disrespect of overhearing one of the painters he'd hired as they'd begun to prepare Genevieve's house to be put on the market. He happened to be arriving to check on things when the jerk—who was married, no less—made a disparaging remark about her new financial status as though she hadn't worked hard and successfully for every dollar she'd earned herself. However, what triggered Marshall's fury was the added comment that he wouldn't have turned down a chance in her bed any more than Marshall had. It had given Marshall great pleasure to personally remove the ingrate from the premises.

Those instances aside, it had been reassuring to see that most people who knew Genevieve and what she'd gone through with losing Adam were delighted for her and warmed quickly to him. Of course, it helped that he strongly supported local businesses and labor as he contracted work at both residences and helped Shirley's son find people to get the Butler house ready for Genevieve to list it for sale.

“You're right,” she said. She swept her hair back behind her shoulders and nodded with resolve.

“You're the most beautiful bride a groom could imagine,” he murmured.

“And you—” she turned to smooth her hands over his black suit “—are the most handsome groom.”

“Ready?”

“Let's go.”

Genevieve had stood firm against her mother's attempts to turn the wedding into a holiday party for the who's who in town. She'd insisted that she wanted the wedding to be about family. Of course, her “family” included the agency personnel.

When they arrived at the Sawyers' brightly lit Mediterranean mansion, Bart opened the door and pressed his hand to his heart. “Call the medics—I'm having the big one!”

Distressed, Genevieve scolded him. “Dad, don't joke about that.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but you are a vision. You look like a young queen at her coronation,” he said and tenderly kissed her. “I'm so proud and happy for you.”

“Oh, mercy, you're going to make me cry and ruin my makeup.”

Laughing, he released her and, ignoring Marshall's outstretched hand, he hugged him enthusiastically. “Welcome to the family, old son.”

Grinning, Marshall warned, “Thanks. Just don't rush the ‘old' part.”

The house was resplendent with holiday decorations. A fifteen-foot tree stood in the foyer before the grand staircase lit with the same white lights that framed the exterior of the house. The ornaments were in Sydney's favorite colors—red and gold. The banister was wrapped in faux pine garland enhanced with the same tiny lights, gold ornaments and red poinsettias. At least a dozen more poinsettias adorned side tables.

The tree in the living room was half the size and
decorated all in red with red lights. The fireplace mantel was enhanced with Sydney's collection of glass Christmas trees that she'd collected from all over the world. The coffee table hosted an array of ivory candles of various dimensions and shapes, while every window was framed in white lights that highlighted planters containing white and red poinsettias.

Avery, Raenne and Ina were in the middle of taking a tour of the room, champagne flutes in their hands. When Genevieve and Marshall entered, they rushed over to fuss over her and flirt with him.

“So gorgeous.”

“Is that the necklace you gave her, Marshall? Wow!”

“Where's the baby bump?”

Avery's question had Genevieve stroking the little swell. “Discreetly hidden for the formal photos,” she said wryly.

“Look, Marshall's wearing my tie I gave him at the wedding shower.”

“Mr. Marshall, you'd look dreamy wearing one with the three little pigs all over it.”

“Can I get a photo with you to send to my mother in New York? She thinks the reason I've given up on marriage is because I've turned gay.”

Laughing again at irreverent Avery, Genevieve said, “Thank you for coming. It means so much to us. Raenne, didn't your husband want to join you? I can't believe he let you leave looking so pretty in that green satin.”

“Thanks.” Raenne wrinkled her nose. “Apparently I'm still not tempting enough to keep him from a bass tournament.”

“Here?” Marshall was taken aback and felt sorry for her. “In December? On Christmas Eve?”

“Florida,” Raenne said with a sigh. “Avery and I are heading for Dallas after this. We're going to spend the night in a swanky hotel and see what we can find in the way of ‘ho-ho-ho.'”

“Please be safe,” Genevieve said with concern.

“If we weren't going to be safe,” Avery replied, winking at Raenne, “we would have gotten separate rooms.”

Shaking her head, Genevieve asked Ina, “What are your plans? You always spend Christmas Eve with your children.”

“We'll go to midnight mass, yes, and then a friend has invited us to his restaurant for a late Christmas Eve dinner.”

“‘His.' Did you hear that?” Raenne gasped. “Ina, you sly dog. Have you been holding out on us?”

The petite woman's dimples deepened as she smiled shyly. “I've been seeing Tomas Rivera for a few months.”

“For Rivera's on the Interstate in Mt. Vernon?” Avery whistled. “Well done,
chica
.”

The French doors leading to the dining room opened and Sydney emerged with the photographer. “I thought I'd heard your voices,” she said. “Don't you think they make a stunning couple, Patrick? And I know with your talent, you're going to make it impossible to choose from among the proofs. Gigi, darling, Marshall, this is Patrick Jarvis, the only photographer I have been using ever since he did my jacket cover for my first
New York Times
hardcover.”

“Perhaps since we have a little time I could get some photos of the bride,” the handsome blond suggested, hardly able to take his eyes off Genevieve.

“Good idea.” Stepping behind her, Marshall drew Genevieve against him, clearly reminding the younger man who she belonged to. “I'd like one for my office.”

She covered his arms with hers. “And I'd like one of you for mine.”

“Wait! Wait!” Dorothy came scurrying in from the kitchen like a frisky terrier. “I almost forgot to bring these out. Mrs. Sawyer and Mr. Bart wanted you to have this, dear.” She handed Genevieve a branch bouquet of white orchids. “And this is for you, sir.” She handed Marshall a white rose for his lapel.

“Let me.” Genevieve handed the orchids to Ina, who was closest, and secured the boutonniere to his lapel with the hat pin that had been provided.

“Is white for eternity?” he asked softly, watching her.

“I don't think there's anything written in stone, but I like the thought. I'd also read it's for purity—as in purity of intent.”

“Tonight is definitely that.” Aware that they were the center of attention, and that the photographer was getting impatient, Marshall stepped aside and him get to work.

Patrick had finished with Genevieve and was starting on Marshall when the pastor arrived. The ceremony could begin.

The service took place in the foyer in front of the tree. Genevieve and Marshall held hands the whole time and hers were trembling. He held her gaze and
soon the trembling stopped, as the world around them faded away.

Finally, they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. That was met with sighs, cheers and sighs by their small group of witnesses.

Marshall touched his forehead to Genevieve's. “Mrs. Roark.”

Hugs and countless toasts followed. The two-tiered cake was cut and Patrick took his last picture. After that, Marshall reached into an inside jacket pocket and brought out an envelope that he had been holding for Genevieve.

She said to her friends and employees, “Since it's also Christmas, I wanted you to know how much I value you. Not only for covering for me when I was under the weather, and still maintaining our record in the region, but for setting such excellent and humbling examples of what loyalty and friendship means. This is a heartfelt token of my love and appreciation for you.”

She handed Ina, Avery and Raenne each a smaller envelope from inside the original one. They all murmured their thanks and ripped them open with excitement. Then they went wide-eyed and silent as they saw the amounts of the checks.

“Oh, and don't worry,” Genevieve added. “I paid the tax on that.”

“Heavens,” Ina whispered. “This is so generous.”

“Darn it, Rae,” Avery teased. “We should skip Dallas and book a flight to Paris.”

Rae didn't laugh. In fact, she kept looking at Genevieve and Marshall and finally said, “You know, watching you two and seeing what you share has made me stop
lying to myself. I don't need to hang on to a wedding band, lying to myself that it's a security blanket when I'm the income earner in the family. And it sure isn't a status symbol to prove I have a man. I'm going to open my own bank account with this check…and hire a lawyer.”

While Avery raised her glass and said, “Amen,” Genevieve embraced Raenne. Marshall could see the concern on her face, but relief, too.

Things wound down after that and soon Marshall drove his wife back to their home. “Feel any different?” he asked. He felt utterly at peace, and grateful.

“I'm not sure that I should,” Genevieve replied, turning to watch his profile. “But I do. Do you?”

He nodded once. “Vows are powerful things. I always believed that. But I'm feeling the gift as well as the responsibility of them more the second time around.”