Souvenirs (28 page)

The cabbie looked in the mirror. “Right-o, love. Good for you.”

She paid her part of the fare, patted Harry’s hand, and rushed into the clinic before the photographers could park. Fe was waiting.

“Oh, dear.”

“Sorry, Fe,” Grace sighed. “Hillary strikes again. I should’ve stayed away.”

“No, I’m glad you came.”

“Fiona?” the nurse called from the doorway. “The doctor is ready for you.”

“I’ll be here when you’re finished,” Grace said, shooing Fe from the room. “Fingers crossed.”

As she waited, Grace tried to figure out a way to get Fiona out of the clinic without a shoving match, and how to explain an OB-GYN visit to Ben.

“Yea God,” someone whispered from behind the desk. “How many women is he sleeping with anyway? First Hillary, now this one. If the American gets pregnant, we’ll have a trifecta. Maybe we can offer him a bulk discount.”

“
This one
,” a stern, older voice stressed, “is a good girl. She and her husband have been patients for years. And you’re not going to convince me Hillary is pregnant by Bennett Oliver. He’s too good for the likes of her.”

“What about all those photos?” the younger woman persisted.

“Don’t mean anything.”

“But she was in L.A. when he was, and now she’s in Yorkshire, and, well . . . Willa, she
is
pregnant.”

Grace smothered her gasp.
It’s a lie. It’s a lie.

Rubber-soled shoes squeaked on the tile as one of the nurses approached. Grace closed her eyes and prayed it was Willa. She got her first break of the day.

“Blast,” the older woman breathed. “Ms. Donnelley.”

“I’m fine,” Grace squeaked. “Will Fiona be much longer?”

“Just a few moments, I’ll hurry the doctor along.”

Grace stopped her. “Don’t, please. And don’t tell Fiona anything. Regardless of her news, she needs to focus on herself. And Noah.”

“See, that’s why he deserves you,” Willa said as she patted Grace’s shoulder. “I don’t know him by anything other than the telly and by how he’s treated Fiona, but he seems like a lovely young man.”

The longer she talked, the harder it became for Grace to hide her tears. All she could do was nod. Willa found her a box of tissues and then hurried away.

By the time Fe re-entered the waiting room, Grace had composed herself. So had Fe. Her face was unreadable, although her knuckles were white on the strap of her purse.

“How am I going to get out of here?” Fe mumbled as she looked out the window at the milling crowd of photographers.

“You girls can take the back way out,” Willa offered. Thankfully, she’d exiled the gossipy nurse.

Grace nudged Fe. “You go on. I’ll go out the front. They’ll follow me. Count to twenty and then leave.”

“I’ll call Ben.”

“No, Fe. He’ll ask too many questions, and Noah should be the first person you tell. I think we’ve missed the press deadline for today, so it’ll buy us a little time.”

“Grace,” Willa called. “I’ve rung a taxi. The driver will be out front in five—oh, there he is. Run, love.”

She emerged into a melee that reminded her of frenzied carp. Every slimy body fought for the same little bite.

“Up the duff, Grace?”

“Does Ben know?”

She pushed them away. “I’m here with a friend. Move aside, please.”

Blinded by flashbulbs, she gave the driver the hotel’s address and reclined against the seat. The momentum around a turn slung her sideways. So much for a relaxing day.

When they stopped at the main entrance, Grace flung the taxi’s door open, heedless of who she struck. The doorman made his way to her while Ivy monitored the door.

“Are you all right?” the young woman asked as a bellman helped her pull the door closed. “What on earth has happened?”

“Not now, Ivy,” Grace retorted as she clicked by. When the tone of her words echoed back to her, she faced her caretakers as she walked backward toward the elevator bay. “Thank you all for looking out for me and for protecting me. I appreciate your concern.”

Ivy followed her into the hallway. “I’ve tried to reach Ben.”

Swallowing her temper, Grace turned to the young woman. “I am not Ben’s concern. I’m a grown woman, and he has other things to do. So do you. Please stop.”

“But—”

“Please.” Without waiting on an answer, Grace stepped into the nearest elevator. She was too exhausted for the stairs.

Her purchases were piled on her bed, and she changed into sweats before letting unpacking distract her. At the end of her chore, one package remained. The mailing address had been crossed out multiple times, forwarding instructions revised. Postage had been increased, then increased again. But the return address was clearly marked. It was from the vacation tour company. Unwrapping the paper and lifting the lid on the box, Grace picked up the silken watercolor negligee that had found its way from Salzburg, and let it slide through her fingers to pool on the floor.

Her tears came in a flood, and she quit staring at the ceiling to stem them. She stopped dabbing them, then gave up wiping them, and finally forgot about her stupid mascara.

It was a lie. She knew it was. But it still hurt. Being alone made it worse, and in London she was always alone.

All cried out, she splashed cold water on her face and went for ice to put on her eyes. Lying in the quiet, she debated canceling her plans with Gino and his family. There’d be photographers everywhere.

If you don’t want them to chase you, don’t run
. Her father’s advice from years ago echoed through her mind. If it worked for wild animals, it would work for paparazzi. Instead of wallowing in self-pity and suspicion, she selected a new outfit from her closet and went to work on her makeup.

Her phone rang, and she stared at it for three rings before she answered it. “Hi.”

“Doll?”

He was on his way home. She could hear the Rover’s radio in the background. She could also hear the worry in his voice. There’d be another headline, another photo to explain, in the morning.

“We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m late for dinner.”

“Please don’t go. Order in. Stay—”

“Goodnight, Ben. Be careful coming back.”

She hung up and dropped her phone on the bed. And left it there.

Chapter 24

It’s Over?

“Bennett, are you listening?”

He yanked his attention from the headline and back to the phone. “Sorry, Mum. What?”

“Why won’t Grace see me? I’ve invited her to the house, but she won’t come. She won’t meet me anywhere either.”

Ben stared at the photos of him—and Hillary—littering the front page of the latest gossip rag. She’d ambushed him on the street in Skipton, grabbed his hand, and timed it perfectly. He shouldn’t have been there at all. He should’ve come home.

“Bennett,” his mother snapped.

“She’s busy, Mum.”

“Rubbish. Something’s wrong. What did you say to her?” She pressed on without waiting for an answer. “Grace is a friend regardless of whether she dates you. Nothing gives you the right to—”

He tuned her out.

The other picture was worse. Grace, dressed to the nines, with Harry holding her hand, and she was crying. She’d said she’d gone to the National Gallery, but that café was on the other side of the city.

And she’d not answered her phone last night.

He thrust his hand through his hair. “I’ll fix it, Mother. I’m sorry I’ve upset you, but I have to go. I have a meeting, and Fe’s here to drive me.”

He hung up and stared at Fiona, hovering close by.

“Has Grace seen these?” he croaked.

“Probably.” Fiona put a hand on his shoulder. “Channel this, or do whatever you do. Let’s go talk to Clive.”

“But Fe—”

“She’s a grown woman, and she’s not run yet. Look, Nob,” she started, then paused.

“What now?” he sighed.

She looked like she wanted to say something, and he frowned as she hesitated. It wasn’t like Fe to self-edit. “What?”

“It’ll keep. Get your jacket. Clive’s expecting us.”

He looked at his phone. Grace hadn’t called.

Harry?

No. That was a lie. The press was twisting it, just like they had with him. Picking up his notes, he stalked out the door and into Fiona’s Mini-Cooper.

Ben stared out the window, watching London pass in a blur. He didn’t want to go to this meeting now, but he had responsibilities to Noah, Fe, Mum, Emily. Grace was only part of it.

They stopped in front of a glass and steel monstrosity, the sort of building he hated. It was like being in an empty bowl.

Fe patted his knee, much like his mother did. “You don’t need me with you. I’ll be waiting right here when you’re finished. Good luck.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t leave the car.

“Ben?” Fe didn’t continue until he looked at her. “She’s fine. Things are
fine.
Put it away and get your head in the game. Go show them you’re brilliant.”

He got through the meeting without sounding like a nutter, and even managed to right a few of Clive’s opinions. On the way down the elevator, Ben blessed Fe’s muppet head for paying attention to his business when he hadn’t.

Arriving at the library late, he waved at Jenny the librarian as he and Fe slipped upstairs and stood at the back of the room. Grace sat in front, reading aloud, and he drank her in. She’d changed in a day. She’d had a haircut, and her makeup was different. He’d never seen her outfit before. She’d gone shopping. Alone. What else had he missed?

Her voice danced over the words, and he closed his eyes to watch them come to life in his imagination. Enthusiastic applause ended the first section of the event.

“Questions?” she asked. He could hear her smile.

“Did you really meet Bennett Oliver on vacation?”

“Questions about the book?” Grace teased.

“Was Bennett always Weathermore? Did you know it when you saw him?”

“Is he a good kisser?”

“Are you jealous about his hook-up with Hillary Dunham?”

“Is he really a beast?”

Ben gritted his teeth and pushed away from the wall, intent on ending this debacle. Fe stopped him.

“Let her do it, Nob.”

Despite the sick feeling in his stomach, he obeyed.

“All right then. I see we’re going to have to deal with this first. Yes, Ben and I met on vacation last summer. But no, I didn’t swoon at his feet and declare him my Lord Weathermore. I’m embarrassed to admit I didn’t recognize him. He was, and always has been, just Ben. However, fans of
the book
will be thrilled with his work in this film, and fans of
Bennett
will be equally thrilled because Weathermore is a dashing hero, if I say so myself.

“The kissing thing is no one’s business. And as for the rest of it, take it from someone who writes fiction and don’t believe everything you read. Now, book questions?”

Ben cringed and waited.

“How did you come up with the plot point on the EMP war?”

She smiled. “I’m so glad you asked . . .”

After the questions were over and the signing was completed, he walked to Grace’s side.

“Hiya, doll,” he whispered as he kissed her cheek. She smelled incredible, and her hand was warm on his arm. But there were shadows under her eyes.

“How did your meeting go?”

“Well, I think. Regardless, it gave me a chance to rebuild the relationship with Clive. Archie had told him I wouldn’t take anything other than leads. Since I wasn’t right for
this
lead, he’d ruled me out. We’ll see what they think of me as a villain. And I hope it’s favorable, because they’re filming in China. Can we have coffee?”

She looked over his shoulder, and he suspected she saw Fe in the doorway.

“Alone,” he persisted. “My favorite shop. We’ll even walk.”

“Don’t do this to prove a point.”

He lifted her chin so she would see his face before he kissed her. “I missed you. That’s all I want to prove.”

“Then let’s have coffee here,” she said. “There’s a café on the top floor, and it’s been tempting me all morning.”

Once they were sitting at a table with a great view of the London skyline, he gazed at her over the top of the cup. “She ambushed me.”

“I know.”

“I should’ve come home. I shouldn’t have—”

“You shouldn’t have to
run
,” she snapped. “Neither of us should.”

“What happened yesterday? Why did you lie about where you were?”

“I didn’t lie. I changed my plans. Paul needed me to meet with Harry.”

“I wish you’d told me.”

“Why do I have to call you, and interrupt filming, when my plans change?” She leaned forward and whispered. “You think I’d sleep with
Harry,
Ben? Really?”

“Of course not. I’m more worried you were crying.”

“I went for a spa day and I ran into a few of Hillary’s friends. Violet and some short woman with hideous taste in jewelry.”

“Cecile,” he groaned. “I wish I’d known you wanted a day. There’s a great spot around the corner from the office. Emily could’ve set it up.”

“Am I not allowed to leave Hammersmith?” she asked. “Ben, you have to stop this. London is a big city, and I want to see it.”

He couldn’t have made a bigger hash of this if he’d tried. “I’m sorry I smothered you, but I was trying, in my own way, to protect you.” He took her hand, anxious to convince her. “I swear.”

“Sweetheart, I gave up my anonymity in L.A. and I’m not hiding anymore. Not from my own life, and sure as hell not from yours.”

As she talked, she curved her warm, strong fingers around his. Though he hated like hell to be wrong, he loved the way she fought with, and for, him.

“Fe and Noah have invited us for dinner tonight,” he said. “Until then we could go to the National Gallery, or maybe to the Line of Kings at the Tower of London. I think you’d like that.” He stopped himself. “Would you?”

She nodded, and her smile was brighter. The tension in his shoulders lightened.

They spent the whole morning together and stayed under the radar. Ben presumed the photographers thought he was in Yorkshire, and he didn’t mind if it gave him time with Grace. Even if she was quieter than normal. However, when she dozed off in the cab between sites, he redirected the driver to his home.

As they stopped, she looked up and sagged against him. “Thank you. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“We could cancel dinner,” he offered as they walked into the house.

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine after a nap.”

Tucking her into bed, Ben kissed her. “Get some rest and we’ll see how you feel. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

She snuggled into the pillow and pulled the covers to her chin. He’d have sat there for hours watching her sleep if someone hadn’t rung the bell, and kept ringing. Closing the bedroom door, he jogged down the hall toward the persistent visitor.

His good mood vanished as he recognized the reporter waiting on his stoop. “What?”

“Umm, Reg Drew, with the—”

“I know who you are. What do you want?”

“A quote about how it feels to be an expectant father.”

“What?”

“C’mon, Ben. Hillary’s all but sending out announcements.”

“
If
Hillary Dunham is pregnant, it’s not mine,” Ben snarled as he pushed the door shut.

“What about Grace? Is her child someone else’s? Like the bloke from yesterday?”

Grace’s child?

“Would you like to comment?” Reg persisted. “She said she was at the clinic with a friend, but she went in alone and she came out alone.”

He scrambled for his thoughts. “The bloke from yesterday is a business acquaintance. As for anything else, I have no comment. Get off my property before I call a patrolman.”

He slammed the door. Pregnant? It wasn’t possible. Was it?

Striding back through the house, intent on answers, Ben opened the bedroom door. Grace still slept, curled in his bed with her nose buried in his pillow. He hadn’t been careful enough with her. Since Buckden, he’d not been careful at all.

A baby.

He closed the door and wandered aimlessly from room to room. Why hadn’t she said something? Should he bring it up? What was he supposed to do?

They could turn one of the office closets into a nursery, or put a playpen in his office. Or Grace could share his space and they’d convert her office to a nursery. When should they start baby-proofing?

Did the elevator at the office work? She shouldn’t take the stairs.

He stared out the kitchen window at the garden. Would a playground fit back there? Was it wise to have children playing so near the river? Was the Rover dependable enough? Could Grace drive it?

He went upstairs into his living room. Did he need to move? Two people were a tight fit. How would three do?

Incremental changes in his life had given way to cracks shifting and reforming the ground in front of him. By rights he should be bricking it, but he wasn’t. Grace would be with him.

Cuddling with him on the sofa, playing with a baby, late nights, nappies . . . They could get a dog. Children should have pets. They could spend Christmas in Yorkshire. Would she like to have more than one? Would they look like him or her? He hoped they got her freckles.

Resisting the urge to wake her, he went outside to the deck. They couldn’t live here. Babies shouldn’t play on the roof. What if it fell off?

He was searching real estate listings when she walked through the door.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Yes, but you let me sleep too long. Don’t we need to go?”

“Yep. Let’s take the car.”

“We can walk, Ben. I’m fine.”

“Let’s not push it, just in case.”

All the way to Noah’s, Ben snatched glances of Grace in the passenger seat. She finally caught him doing it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “Making sure you’re well.”

“Please don’t worry.” She fidgeted in her seat. “Ben?”

He stopped in front of Noah’s building and wrapped his hands around the steering wheel.
Here it comes
. “Yes?”

She stared at him, chewing on her bottom lip. “I’ve had a really good time today. Thank you.”

He didn’t think that’s what she wanted to say. She was afraid to tell him. He looked at his white knuckles on the wheel. No wonder. Taking a deep breath, he loosened his grip.

“It wasn’t a favor, doll,” he said as he lifted her hand to his lips. “I like spending time with you, whether we’re at work, here, or on a bus full of pensioners. Nothing you can say changes how I feel. Now, why don’t you hop out and wait inside with the doorman? I’ll park and be back in a tick.”

Once he joined her, Ben steered her to the lift. She tapped her foot and leaned on the button. “The stairs would be quicker.”

“It’ll be here in a moment,” Ben assured her. They were going to the eighth floor. She wasn’t climbing eight flights on his watch.

The lift finally arrived, and when the doors closed she turned to him. “How about a run tomorrow?”

“We’ll see how you feel and what the weather’s like. Yeah?”

They quick-stepped down the hall, and Noah opened the door before they could knock. His eyes were wide, and his lips were pressed together.

“Hi,” he said. “Umm-”

“No, no, no. You can’t do that again,” Fe snarled from the kitchen. “How difficult should this be? It’s just flour and water.”

“She’s doing pasta again, isn’t she?” Ben asked, only to groan when Noah nodded. “When will she give up?”

“I’ve tried to tell her I’ve quit eating it, but you know how she is.”