Secret North: Book 4 of The Wishes Series (32 page)

“A total cheapskate,” replied Ryan, grinning wickedly. “He’s always been a tightwad.”

Mr Shultz nodded so emphatically that his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose. “I met his wife for the first time a few months ago,” he replied, pushing them back into place. “He still hasn’t bought her diamonds. The poor woman still wears half a ring.”

Ryan could’ve set him straight, but didn’t. “I know,” he agreed. “It’s pitiful.”

“I showed them all of these.” Mr Schultz swept his hand the length of the glass cabinet. “You know what they walked out of my store with?” Ryan shook his head. “A silver bracelet for their daughter. Not even gold! The wife gets half a ring and the girl gets silver for her birthday.”

Ryan looked at the display in the cabinet. “Well, I’m not after half a ring. It will only be the best for my wife.”

Lightning flickered deep in my chest, powered by his lovely words.

Ryan pulled me forward. I stood in front of the display cabinet, blinking at a rate of knots. The store was small but most definitely exclusive. Most of the rings were huge; some were so flashy that they were downright gaudy.

I’d never thought about what sort of engagement ring I wanted, but I got the impression that nothing was off limits. The next words out of Ryan’s mouth confirmed it. “Pick one,” he urged. “Anything you want.”

Mr Schultz got the ball rolling. He set a tray of rings on the counter. I stared down at them before turning to Ryan. “What do you like?” My voice was tiny.

“I’m not good at this junk, Bente,” he said sheepishly. “But I prefer quality over quantity. I want you to have something special.”

“A solitaire?” suggested Mr Schultz, pointing at the tray.

I nodded.

Choosing a ring was a group exercise. Mr Schultz kept steering us towards massive rocks. Ryan urged me to try them on.

Refusing graciously was difficult, but I tried. “They’re a little too big.” All I could think of was trying to type while wearing a golf ball on one hand. It was craziness. I finally managed to get them to scale it down, and settled on a pretty, bright solitaire diamond in a platinum setting. It was far more modest than most we’d been shown, but I was still too afraid to listen when the topic of price came up – so afraid that I excused myself and went outside.

It was getting late. The cool night air felt crisp against my cheeks that were hot with excitement, but nothing was going to cure me and calm me down. I was getting married.

53. POMP AND CEREMONY

Ryan

Like our courtship, our engagement would be short – just two months. I wanted to be married to Bente yesterday. I wanted the world to know that I’d somehow got lucky enough to close the deal and make her my wife. If I’d had my way, I would’ve gone the same route as Adam and Charli and whisked her off to the marriage bureau, but Bente’s ideas were different and I respected that. I wanted her to have whatever she wanted, and if a big wedding was it, then I was on board.

Ivy and the squealers were the first to be privy to our plans. There was no pomp and ceremony when it came to telling them. We laid it all out over dinner at their house two days after Trieste’s wedding. Ivy and Fabergé took the news well. Malibu, not so much. “I’ll be good,” she wailed, smashing her plastic mug on the edge of the table. “Don’t be my uncle!”

The last thing I wanted to be was her uncle, but for the first time in my life I was prepared to take the good with the bad because the good was so freaking perfect. “I’m a great uncle, Malibu,” I told her. “Bridget will vouch for me.”

The little girl calmed down in an instant, moving on at the mention of Bridget’s name. “Why doesn’t she go to dance class any more?”

I had no idea. I didn’t even know Bridget took dance lessons.

“She quit?” Bente asked Ivy. “She was so looking forward to it.”

Ivy reached for the salad. “She only lasted a few lessons, I’m not sure why.”

“Is Bridget going to be in the wedding?” asked Fabergé.

I looked to Bente for answers. If by chance she didn’t want her, I was prepared to bump Adam aside in favour of Bridget as my best man.

“You can all be in the wedding,” she replied, inciting a round of excited squeals that made me wince.

Ivy loaded up my already full plate with more food. She was a feeder. It was almost a term of endearment. “We’ll go over some dress ideas next week,” she suggested.

“You’re not going to have much time,” hinted Bente.

“Why?”

Bente put her hand on my knee. That was the moment I realised I’d been agitatedly bouncing it. “Because we’re getting married on October twenty-fifth,” she announced.

Ivy quickly totted up how much time she had to work with. “That’s barely two months away!” she barked. “What’s the hurry? Are you knocked up?” She glared at me. “Did you knock her up?”

“No,” I replied calmly. I wanted to add a really crass comment to put her in her place, but held off because the girls were staring me down from across the table.

“We just don’t want to wait,” explained Bente.

“Where’s your ring?” She glanced at her sister’s bare left hand before glaring at me again. “What kind of idiot proposes without a ring?”

“You need to buy a ring,” Fabergé agreed disapprovingly. “A really nice one.”

“Inconsiderate schmuck,” mumbled Ivy. “How do you even sleep at night, Ryan?”

“Usually naked, next to your sister.” The highly inappropriate comment tumbled out, earning me a stiff elbow to the ribs from Bente. I chose not to remind her of our no violence agreement. I deserved it.

“I have a ring, Ivy,” she explained. “It’s being resized.”

Ivy pulled a sucking-lemon face, but didn’t apologise. Perhaps realising we weren’t going to get one, Bente moved on. She reached across the table and rested her hand on her sister’s forearm. “Everything is wonderful,” she assured her. “Be happy for me.”

Ivy covered Bente’s hand and almost cracked a smile. “I am happy.”

“I’m happy for you too,” chimed Fabergé. “He’ll be a good uncle.”

I smiled at the unlikely ally. “Thank you, Fabergé.”

“I was happy first!” roared Animal.

Exchanges like this made me wonder what the hell I was getting myself into. Then I had the good sense to look at the beautiful woman next to me. It was the only reminder I needed that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

54. TRAITOR

Bente

Informing Ivy and the girls about the wedding was a cakewalk compared to sharing the news with the Décaries’. Nothing worked simply in that family. I could only surmise that Fiona had caught wind of something because a simple request to meet at their house turned into a full-blown gala dinner.

Attendance was mandatory, which pissed Charli off no end. Her mood was foul from the minute she walked in. Everybody got a curt hello and very little else.

“Why the long face, Charli?” Jean-Luc asked.

“I’m fine,” she muttered unconvincingly.

I didn’t catch his next remark, but Adam did. “Stop, Dad,” he warned. “Leave her alone.” Most of the time Charli could hold her own. When she couldn’t, Adam stepped in. It was one of the things I liked best about him.

Jean-Luc moved his attention to Bridget, who was her usual bubbly self and oblivious to the tension. He scooped her off her feet and kissed her.

“Where’s Mamie?” she asked, putting both hands to his cheeks.

“Upstairs,” he replied. “She’ll be down shortly.”

Bridget wriggled and Jean-Luc lowered her to her feet. “I’m going to get her,” she announced, making a beeline for the foyer.

After some stunted conversation, Charli sat beside me on the long couch, looking no happier than when she arrived. Adam opted for the couch opposite. The sweet wink he gave her as he sat was supposed to be discreet, but I saw it. She gave a tiny smile in return, which led me to think her bad mood wasn’t frog related.

Even Ryan realised something was going on, and he was usually clueless. Probably looking for a reason to leave the room, he offered to organise drinks. “Yes, champagne would be lovely, darling,” interjected Fiona, making her usual grand entrance through the glass doors. Bridget trailed behind her wearing a red Pashmina shawl like a cape. She jumped onto her father’s lap forcefully enough to make him groan. “Slow down, baby,” he told her.

Bridget pulled her shawl around her body. “This one’s a good flier.”

Adam kissed her head. “Just fly slowly.”

Ryan stood up and offered Bridget his hand. “Let’s go, Bridge. I saw cake in the kitchen.” She didn’t need asking twice scrambled off Adam’s lap and grabbed Ryan’s hand.

“Bring some champagne back, darling,” called Fiona. I was certain her demand wasn’t in anticipation of our announcement. Champagne flowed like water in that house.

This dinner shaped up to be nothing like the last one I’d attended. The air was thick. Ryan was smart to get out. I wished he’d taken me with him instead of Bridget. When Charli left the room for the first time, I grabbed the opportunity to talk in private and followed her into the foyer.

“Charli, what’s going on?”

She stood stiffly. “Nothing.”

She’d left me with nowhere to go but I pressed on. “You don’t seem very happy.”

Her muted whisper didn’t quite match the gesture of throwing out her arms. “Everyone’s entitled to a bad day, Bente. Today happens to be mine.”

I nodded, unwilling to press her any more. The conversation should’ve ended there but Ryan appeared.

“How are you, Tink?” he asked. “You’re a little out of form this evening.”

“I’m not here to entertain you,” she replied dully.

“Lucky,” he slyly replied. “Because you’re not even remotely entertaining tonight.”

I grabbed his arm in an attempt to pull him into line. It didn’t work. “We have some news to share, so if you could put on a smile and pretend to be happy, I’d appreciate it,” he told her.

The sour face she pulled lasted only seconds. “When’s the big day?”

I widened my eyes. “You know?”

“Of course I know. Ryan told Adam and Adam told me.” She smiled for the first time and I gratefully smiled back. “I’m happy for you,” she whispered, hugging me. “Truly.”

The conversation was cut short when the glass doors slid open and the queen appeared. “Bente, darling, there you are,” she crooned, hooking her arm though mine and wrenching me away. “Come. I have something for you.”

Ryan said nothing as she led me in the direction of the stairs. When he dared to wave at me when I looked back at him, I almost reconsidered my decision to marry him.

The second floor of the Décarie home was as opulent and vast as the first. The longest carpet runner I’d ever seen extended all the way to the end of the hall. I counted six doors before we stopped at the last one. Fiona waved me in ahead of her. My eyes involuntarily darted in every direction as I checked out the room. I quickly worked out that I was standing in the king and queen’s private domain – the master bedroom.

It was so magnificent I could barely breathe. The room was huge and the ceiling was high. The four-poster bed looked like something out of a fairy-tale, and there wasn’t a thing out of place. Everything was expertly coordinated, including the row of silver photo frames lining the dressing table. I desperately wanted to get a closer look but remembered my manners and stayed by the doorway.

Fiona must’ve noticed the Cinderella moment I was having. “This is my favourite room,” she told me, smiling. “It’s not masculine, unlike the rest of our home.”

It was definitely girly. The lacy canopy over the bed, sheer white drapes and crystal chandelier didn’t strike me as being design choices Jean-Luc would’ve made.

“It’s beautiful,” I said truthfully.

Fiona smiled again, brighter this time. “Perhaps you and Ryan might settle in a lovely big home once you’re married.”

My heart began thumping. She was on to us. “You know?”

Her trademark demure giggle answered for her. “I’m far more perceptive than you might think,” she replied. “And I know my sons better than they think. I knew Ryan was close to proposing. He clearly adores you.”

“I love him too.”

“Are you ready for this life, Bente?” she asked curiously.

I wasn’t sure how to answer her. I found the Décarie lifestyle fascinating. I’d never seen such grandeur in all my life, but it didn’t scare me. The three Décarie men worked extremely hard. They were savvy, brilliant businessmen. As far as I was concerned they deserved to reap the benefits associated with that.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But I’m not planning to revolt against it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No plans to live in a shack on the beach?” she hinted.

I smiled down at the plushest beige carpet ever made. “No, I’m a New York girl through and through.”

“And what about the wedding?” she asked. “What are your plans?”

“I’d like to share the day with family and friends. It’s a celebration, right?”

“Indeed,” she beamed, clasping her hands together. “It will be wonderful to see Ryan walk down the aisle. It would mean the world to me. We didn’t have that privilege with Adam. “