Ivory Tower (6 page)

“Yes,” he said, still looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Holy crap.
Her soon-to-be husband was unemployed. No job. No income. Nothing.
Jenna relived all the times she’d railed at her mother’s dependence on money
and now here they would be, well, destitute. Poor. No two dimes to rub together,
except for her writing and what was left of the inheritance her father had
given her. Hysteria bubbled up to her throat and threatened to throw up the breadstick
she’d just eaten. She didn’t want to be rich, but now that reality was smacking
her in the face, she had to gulp down a significant amount of anxiety.

Jenna glanced at Josh, who still looked ill. Knowing he was
worried about them, about their future, she felt like crap for her reaction.
That’s one of the many reasons she loved Josh so much. He worked hard to take
things in stride. And she needed to measure up. So be it. They’d live on her
paltry writing income until he found another job. They’d get that house with
the white picket fence. It just might take them a few years longer.

She straightened, reached across the table, and covered his
hand with hers. “It’s all right. We’ll make it work.”

The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea
of starting from scratch. No more haughty garden lunches. No worrying about
impressing the
right
people. They
would be free to be Josh and Jenna, just two people living on what her mother
would consider the wrong side of the tracks.

Josh should be relieved, but the pallor of his skin belied
her reassurances.

“Really, honey. We’ll be fine. We can find a smaller
apartment than yours, maybe a studio at first. We’ll live on my income and the
money I got from Dad, although,” she ducked her head, “I doubt it’ll be much. My
publisher keeps contracting the romances I write, but the income stream can be
pretty light. I’ll have to ask
Mags
. You know she
handles all that for me. We’ll make it work until you find another job.” She
flashed him the biggest, brightest, most supportive smile she could.

“You don’t understand,” Josh said.

“That we no longer have your income? I got that. And it’s
okay. It’s you I love, Josh. Not your money.”

“Hang onto that thought. There’s something you don’t know.”

“Honey, I know everything I need to. We’ll be just fine. In
fact, it’s a relief, honestly. You know how much I’ve wanted to distance myself
from the mentality of people like mother. Now I can.”

“No, actually, you can’t.”

Confusion returned in the form of fire ants crawling around
in her brain. “What do you mean?”

“Look, Jenna. I love you. And we can live however you want.
Studio, one bedroom, mansion, whatever you want. We’ll make it work. We won’t
become your mother.”

“How could we become my mother? She lives for money and we
won’t have any.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”

“Well, what,
exactly,
would you say?”

“I have the money from the sale.”

“That can tide us over for a while, I’m sure. But we’ll
need to be careful.”

Josh glanced up at the ceiling.

“Won’t we?”

“Again, not exactly.”

Patience lost the battle raging in Jenna’s head. “Spit it
out, Josh. What aren’t you telling me?”

“We’re not paupers, Jenna.”

“What are we, then?”

“Multi-millionaires.” With that single short phrase, all
the color absent from Josh’s face rushed back in.

Jenna heard the word, registered it in her sub-conscious,
but still couldn’t format a response. Multi-millionaires? Josh had sold the
company for millions? Of dollars? Part of her wanted to be supportive, to
congratulate him. And a teensy bit of her heart let out a sigh of relief that
they wouldn’t be destitute. Jenna crushed that part firmly, letting the
overshadow of hurt take center stage. He knew she wouldn’t be happy about this,
yet he didn’t tell her until it was a done deal. He hadn’t asked her opinion.
He hadn’t trusted her enough to confide in her.

“So,” Josh continued, “if you want to toss all your Mom’s
plans aside and do exactly what
we
want to do, we can.” He smiled for the first time since he’d sat down. “We can
afford it.”

“We can afford it,” Jenna repeated.

“Definitely.”

“We can afford whatever we want to do.”

Josh didn’t seem to grasp that she wasn’t asking questions
as he replied again in the affirmative.

“So we’re as rich as my mother.”

“More so, I would say.”

She heard the pride in his voice and knew she should
respond to it, but Jenna wasn’t quite on the same page Josh was. In fact, she
barely heard him over the ocean noise roaring in her ears. “We’re richer than
my mother.” She started to laugh, a shallow, callous, loud noise that didn’t
sound like her.

“See,” Josh said, leaning back in his chair. “I knew you
wouldn’t take this news well.”

“Really? What tipped you off? All the times I’ve talked
about money being the root of my mother’s problems? All the talk I did about us
living simply until we could afford better? You—” Her voice caught and she had
to clear her throat before she could continue. “You couldn’t have told me earlier?”

“I wanted to, but I was under a gag order until the
paperwork was signed.”

“So you couldn’t discuss with your fiancé something that
would affect our lifestyle together?”

“We can still do what we planned. We won’t become your
mother. We have a different set of values.”

Steel entered her voice at the same time her heart shut
down. “Oh, but we already have
become
my mother.”

“How in the hell can you think that?”

“Because we’re sitting here, civilized—in a restaurant—fighting
about money. Over lunch.” Jenna’s world turned from orange to red as she tossed
her napkin on the table and stood. “I for one, refuse to stoop to that level.”

She grabbed her wrap and purse and leaned over. “You should
have told me before this.”

She walked out without a backward glance, leaving bits and
pieces of her crumbled heart in her wake.

Chapter Six

Jenna sat in her best friend’s living room, at her own
wedding shower, unable to dredge up even an ounce of enthusiasm for the occasion.
Surrounded by twenty women, fifteen of whom she barely knew, if at all, sipping
wine and eating little sandwiches and cakes that would make English High Tea
proud, she had to force herself to smile and nod. How had things evolved to
this level of catastrophe?

She was miserable. Everything about this wedding had
morphed into something she no longer recognized. Jenna had caved on almost the
whole thing, including the damned Barbie dress, even though Jenna had even gone
behind her mother’s back, purchased the dress of her dreams, and stashed it at
Maggie’s place. Apparently, it was doomed to remain there.

She brushed hair out of her face, happy at least that she’d
won on this. Her hair color was no longer the foiled blonde that her mother
preferred and wore herself. Jenna’s hair was now as close to natural brunette as
she could get it. Eventually, the color would be all hers, but close would do
for now. Josh’s reaction had been more than satisfying, if the glow in his eyes
was any indication. Things had been tense between them these past few days. They’d
barely spoken since the argument three nights ago and it was killing her. Jenna
felt lied to. Omission was a lie, right? Especially when it came to the one you
were about to commit the rest of your life to?

But she missed Josh. Missed his hugs, his presence, his
belief in her. He’d been scarce, giving her time, she knew. Her eagle-eyed
mother had noticed, too. She’d been one part preening parent, one part
inquisitor. It grated on Jenna’s nerves now more than ever before.

Jenna rose from the couch and nodded to yet another friend
of her mother’s. She made a controlled exit to
Mags’
kitchen, where her friend was busy trying to keep the caterers from totally
taking over.

“Hey,
Mags
.” Jenna hip-bumped
her.

“I cannot believe your mother hired caterers for the shower
I am throwing for you.”

“I know. She’s a steam train chugging ahead full speed,
isn’t she?”

“Hyper speed.”
Mags
rolled her
eyes. “On the caterers, the invitation list, even the moratorium on games. The only
thing that’s mine of this shower is the apartment. Oh, sorry. Venue, as your
mother prefers to say.” She yanked some fancy cloth napkins out of a caterer’s
hand, or tried to. A tug-of-war ensued. The caterer scowled at
Mags
, but her friend glared back and stood her ground.
Moments later, the server walked out with cheesy but colorful napkins that
proclaimed
Here Comes The Bride.
Jenna
smiled her first genuine smile in days. She and
Mags
had laughed long and hard as they’d picked them out.

“Yep. Your mother’s a supersonic train.”

Jenna nodded, trying unsuccessfully to stifle the first
good laugh she’d had in a while.

“The question is,”
Mags
continued, “when are you going to jump the train?”

With a sigh, Jenna wondered the same thing. “This wedding
is not what I had in mind.”

“Then change it.”

“It’s too late. We’re only a couple weeks away.”

“It’s not too late. Not until it’s over with.”

Jenna bit her lower lip. Things were out of hand and she
had no idea how to put it back on track. Even ever-patient, multi-millionaire Josh
had blown up at her this morning. Another sign tension was gutting their
relationship.

“Just tell your mother to shove it,”
Mags
said.

“How can I do that? It’s important to her.”

“Just walk up to her and say ‘Screw you, Mom. Josh and I are
going to elope.’ ”

Jenna laughed again. Oh, how wonderful it would be to do
that. She knew, though, she never could. “It’s not that simple.”

Mags
frowned. “What’s up?” She tapped Jenna’s arm. “You and Josh
are acting like frozen soldiers around each other lately.”

Jenna sighed. “We had a fight.”

“About what?”

“Money.”
Of all
things.

“Seriously? You two are the least money-conscious people I
know.”

“Were. Right up until he sold his company for millions.”

“He—”
Mags
swallowed in a poor
effort to hide her surprise. “So, let me get this straight. Your fiancé is a
millionaire—”

“Multi-millionaire.”

“Multi-millionaire.”
Mags
drawled
the word out in true southern style, even though she’d been born and bred in
upstate New York. “And...you’re upset?”

“Yes. I’m upset.”

“Because your fiancé is rich?”

“Yes. You, of all people, should understand that.”

Mags
sighed. “I do. I think you’re warped, but you know I do.”

Jenna felt her shoulders relax. Finally, someone agreed
with her.

“But...”

Comfy shoulders jumped right back into their knotted, tight
position. “But, what? You hand me buts, after all these years of you putting up
with me putting up with my mother?”

“Yes. There’s a
but
.”
Mags
hugged Jenna. “I understand where you are coming from,
my friend.
But
...you and Josh? You
will never be your mother.”

“How can you be so sure?” Jenna hated the plea in her
voice.

“Because I know you. And I know Josh. Neither of you will
ever let that happen.”

“I sure as hell hope you’re right.” Voices in the other
room rose and Jenna knew she’d better get back in there. Hugging her best
friend, Jenna returned to the den of she-lions, still mulling over the
conversation. Could she and Josh rise above the attitude of her mother and her
mother’s cronies? She wasn’t sure she had enough faith in herself to consider
that possibility.

For now, she plastered a smile on her face and picked up
the first gift to unwrap. At least the gift registry had been all hers. She’d
refused to allow her mother to shop with her and had steered clear of all the
places her mother preferred to purchase from.

The seventh gift, the one meant to be the next person to
get married, was
Mags’
gift. Her friend crossed her
eyes from the corner where she watched and shook her head in an emphatic “not
going to happen.”

The eighth gift was a simple envelope. There’d been a couple
of them prior to this, all addressed to Mrs. Josh Latham and all holding money
or gift cards. This one was addressed simply to Jenna.

Inside, she found a bridal shower card with the usual
sentiment, signed “If you truly wish to change your destiny, leave the room.
Now. Then open the enclosed envelope.”