Man Who Loved Pride and Prejudice (41 page)

   "I don't think it's a matter of guts."

   "Oh, yes, it is. You should ask her. You see, Rose isn't afraid of being just Rose, whereas if you took away 'Professor of Biology at the University of North Carolina' and my list of publications from me, I don't know what would be left. No, there isn't any question I didn't have the guts to leave the track. I couldn't even take time to be a father. Instead I raise grad students and send them off into the world to make all the same mistakes I did. There's a
reason
I've been telling you to get a life all these years, you know."

   Tears sprang to her eyes again at his obviously heartfelt words. She had thought Jim would be the last person in the world to suggest she give up her academic career. He was one of the few people who really understood her drive to succeed.

   Seeing her stricken look, he put his arm around her. "Now you stop that," he scolded. "I don't need six-footplus of your new husband getting mad at me for making you cry."

   She managed a watery smile. "You're just trying to stay on his good side because you want him on your team for Trivial Pursuit."

   "Damn straight. I know which side my bread is buttered on." He paused. "I hope you do, too."

   Suddenly lonely for Calder despite all the people around her, she began to make her way to his side again. She passed by Dave Crowley in earnest conversation with Calder's mother.

   "He's a fine boy," Dave said. "You should be proud of him, Caro." Cassie was unable to make out Mrs. Westing's murmured reply, but she heard Dave say in a quietly intense voice, "Damn it, Caro, you don't have to thank me. In a different world, he'd have been mine. You know that."

   Disturbed, she hurried away before they noticed her. She found Calder with Scott and Erin and slipped her hand into his. "I'm ready to leave now," she said.

   "Me too. But first I have something to tell my father."

   "Should I come with you?"

   "No. This is something I need to do alone."

   Joe Westing was now seated again with Tom and Fiona. Calder rehearsed his lines in his head as he approached the table. For once he was glad of a crowd of people around him. There was safety in numbers.

   "Cassie and I are leaving," he said to his father. "Since I won't be seeing you again for a while, I wanted to tell you something."

   "What's that?" Joe still had his jovial manner on.

   Calder felt dizzy, but he didn't want to sit down. He needed the advantage height gave him. "You were wondering earlier how the press found out about Uncle Stephen."

   The set of his father's mouth would have made him want to run when he was younger. Joe said, "What about it?"

   "I told them."

   "Calder, this isn't a joking matter." There was a definite threat in his father's voice now.

   Calder felt a paradoxical relief now that his father was openly angry. "I'm not joking. I called the editor at the
Times.
And I'll do worse if you ever go after Cassie again."

   "You what?" Joe put his hands on the table and half-rose.

   "That's all I have to say." Calder turned to his brother. "Tom, I'm sorry if the story has made trouble for you."

   Tom grabbed Joe's arm. "Sit down, Dad. There's a photographer here."

   Joe hadn't taken his eyes off Calder. "Don't think you're getting away with this, young man."

   Calder wondered why he'd never done this before. "I'm not trying to get away with anything. I'm just getting away." He turned and on impulse went to the corner where his mother stood with Dave Crowley.

   He kissed his mother's cheek. "I'm going now. Stay away from the old man for a while. He's furious."

   Caro's expression didn't change, but she nodded almost imperceptibly. "My best wishes to both you and Cassie. I hope I'll see you again soon."

   Calder turned to Dave. "Thanks for everything, Dave."

   Cassie was waiting for him near the door. He took her hand, hurrying her out before anyone could notice they were leaving.

   They were met by a barrage of flashes. In the heat of the confrontation with his father, Calder had forgotten about the press. From habit, he dropped his head. Cassie squeezed his hand, and he felt strength flowing from her.

   Deliberately, he turned toward the cameras and waved, smiling his public smile, and then began to walk again. He could feel Cassie's surprised eyes on him.

   "How about kissing the bride, Mr. Westing?" a male voice called out.

   It was just pictures, and the press would find a way to get them one way or another. "Oh, why not," he said in a voice so low only Cassie could hear it. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The warmth of her lips was almost enough to compensate for the flashes surrounding them.

   But enough was enough, and the car was at the curb. Calder turned on the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, checking the rearview mirror to make sure they weren't followed.

   "So, who are you and what have you done with my publicity-shy husband?" Cassie asked with amusement.

Cassie and Calder had tickets for an early flight out of Chicago, so she was still half-asleep when they got to O'Hare Airport. She was not so tired, however, as to fail to notice at check-in that Calder told the attendant they were flying to Boston.

   "Philadelphia, you mean," she corrected.

   Calder looked embarrassed. "Actually, it
is
Boston. I have a surprise for you there."

   Cassie raised an eyebrow. "You've been plotting!"

   "Well, you said I should tell you what I wanted."

   "What's in Boston?"

   "The Old North Church, Harvard Square, the Charles River, swan boats, the New England Aquarium, all sorts of things."

   "That's not what I meant!"

   "Yes, but that's all I'm going to tell you." He looked inordinately pleased with himself.

   Although desperately curious, Cassie refused to give him the satisfaction of pestering him with questions until after they arrived in Boston. As he drove the rental car south, she said, "We're going to the Cape, aren't we?"

   "That's right." He glanced at her with a brief smile. "I need to pick something up."

   "Pick something up? Have you ever considered using the postal service? Or FedEx?"

   "Patience, patience," he teased. "You'll see soon enough."

   She bided her time as he drove, apart from the occasional teasing threat. He laughed, but as they crossed the bridge onto the Cape, he began to seem inexplicably nervous. He turned off the main road north of Woods Hole.

   It was a route Cassie knew well. "Are we going to the salt marsh? It's not the most welcoming of places in March."

   Calder only smiled as he followed the road to Chapoquoit rather than toward the marsh. He turned off on a private dirt road, then another. Cassie recognized where they were. It was the narrow spit of land extending along the beach at the north end of the marsh, with half a dozen houses scattered along the length. There was an expansive view of Buzzard's Bay to the right and the salt marsh to the left. Calder drove slowly, as if looking for something, and finally pulled up in front of a greyshingled Colonial.

   "This is where you have to pick something up?" she asked dubiously.

   "That's right. Want to come with me?"

   As if she could resist getting out of the car into the sea air! Her eyes were drawn immediately to the water, so she almost missed it when Calder plucked an envelope off the deck and opened it. He handed her the key that was inside. "It's your wedding present. It was a little too big to ship, so we had to come here instead. I hope it was worth the detour."

   She looked from him to the key, then to the house and back to him again. "You bought me a
house as
a wedding present?"

   He flushed slightly. "Well, I was working with a realtor here to keep an eye out for promising properties, and when this one came on the market, I didn't want to lose the chance on it. I thought you'd like to live by the salt marsh."

   "Of course I would. I'd just never thought I'd do it. Are you sure it's ours?"

   He laughed at the look on her face. "Maybe you don't want to look around inside, but I do. If you don't like it, we don't have to keep it."

   She glared at him balefully. "I
like
it."

   "Without even looking inside?" he asked mildly.

   She unlocked the door and held it open to him with a flourish. "After you."

   "You can't get away with that!" He swept her into his arms and carried her over the threshold.

   She laughed merrily and pulled his face down to hers for a kiss. "Now put me down and let me see my house!"

   Cassie moved through the house, checking out each room. The kitchen was old-fashioned, but she was pleased by the overall dimensions, the original fireplace in the living room, and the expansive views of the bay. Finally she opened the large glass doors off the living room and stepped onto the wide deck overlooking the salt marsh. She paused, leaning her hands against the railing, shivering a little in the March breeze. Tender green grasses appeared between the dead stalks of last year's growth, early signs of spring.

   She felt Calder slip his arms around her from behind. "Thank you," she said. "It's just perfect."

   "Really?"

   She leaned her head back against his shoulder. "I've always envied the people who lived in these houses. It's the perfect spot."

   He kissed her hair. "I can tell you like it. You haven't said a word about it costing too much."

   "Nope." She turned in his arms and wound her arms around his neck. "For this house, I'll consent to being a kept woman."

   He raised his eyebrows. "I wish I'd known that a year ago."

   "I wish
I'd realized a long time ago that your surfac
e is as deceptive as the plainness of the marsh. I might have had the sense to look past the surface," she said with unusual seriousness. She rested in his arms until a particularly strong wind blew past, driving them back inside.

   She gazed around the interior again with pleasure. "I wish we could just stay here forever."

   He touched her cheek. "It'll be here waiting for us every summer."

   She looked out the window at the salt marsh. "Or I could give up the apartment in Haverford, and we could live here."

   He looked at her as if unsure how seriously to take her comment. "What about your job?"

   "I could quit it and take the job in Woods Hole." She studied his reaction, suspecting he would have trouble telling her if he objected to the idea.

   "But you said you couldn't do that because it isn't tenure-track," he said, his face impassive.

   She shrugged lightly. "What's the point of worrying about tenure if I'm going to be a kept woman? But the question is where
you
want to live."

   "I suppose I'll be in trouble if I say I'm fine anywhere as long as I'm with you."

   "That's right," she said. "You're learning."

   "I like it here. With you. I was planning to give up my apartment in DC anyway."

   "Won't that upset your family?"

   "I don't care. I'm probably going to be disinherited again, anyway."

   "Will that be a problem?"

   "Didn't you pay any attention to that prenuptial you signed?" he asked. When she shook her head, he added, "I have a trust fund from my grandfather, and the interest is enough for us to live comfortably on. We don't need anything from my father unless you have a yen to go in for major philanthropy."

   "I don't think so, thanks," said Cassie cheerfully. "Besides, I don't think he'll disinherit you. In fact, I expect you're probably going to get along better with him now."

   He looked dubious. "Why would you think that?"

   "Your father spends an enormous amount of energy trying to make people submit to his authority, but you know something? I don't think he likes it when they do. I think he likes the battle. I'd go so far as to venture a guess that, even though he'd have stopped you from marrying me if he could, he actually likes me, in his own disturbed way. And I think he likes it that you fought back. He'll keep trying to make us submit, but I bet it won't break his heart when we don't."

   "I don't know. But in the meantime, can I take you to dinner?"

   She smiled at him mischievously. "Do I get apple pie out of it?"

   "Deal," he said, taking her hand. He had a sudden image of the last time they were at the Dock of the Bay Café, a year earlier, when she had been in tears in the street, thinking she would not be able to return to the MBL. When her future at Haverford was threatened, she was angry, but philosophical about it. "Can I just say one more thing, though? I think you ought to take the job here. I think Woods Hole is more important to you than Haverford."