The manor, p.6
The Manor, page 6
As the bread cooled, she and Cookie swapped histories. She discovered he’d once played sax with a traveling jazz band. He was duly impressed by her music degree. He set out two small plates. “Maybe we can jam sometime.”
“I’m not very good at improvising.”
“It’s easy if you know your keys, and I’m assuming you know your keys.”
Willow nodded. “I had to memorize the circle of fifths my first year.”
“Well, then, you won’t have any trouble. You just got to relax and trust yourself.”
Relax and trust herself? That was easier said than done. Cookie handed her a bun, butter, and a steaming cup of mint tea. “It’s kind of like cooking. Recipes are a great place to start, but if you want to make something really special, you gotta fly by instinct. Ask your mama. She’ll tell you I’m right.”
Throughout Willow’s childhood, her father had constantly pointed out the dangers surrounding her. She’d learned to be cautious, to evaluate every possibility before committing herself to a course of action. Consequently, her instinct was to distrust her instinct.
The bun exploded with flavor in her mouth. She tasted clove and orange peel and cinnamon. “This is amazing,” she mumbled through the food. “My mother needs this recipe.”
“Tit for tat. She’ll have to give me one of hers.”
Willow pondered which of Honey’s many recipes she would recommend to Cookie, but before she’d decided between the Christmas cinnamon buns and the flourless chocolate cake, the door swung open. “Hey, Cookie. What is that amazing smell?” Ophelia appeared around the fridge. Her eyes widened when she saw Willow. “Oh, good morning. I’d heard you were back in town.” Cookie slid a plate with a bun on it across the island. Ophelia caught it.
“We got back last night,” Willow said.
“Seriously dreary homecoming.” Ophelia shook her head. “Better get used to it.”
“Lia.” Cookie’s deep voice dropped even deeper, a warning growl.
She picked up the bun, took a bite, chewed, then swallowed. “So, I heard that Aunt Gerry is sick. What’s wrong with her?”
“The flu.” A new voice rang behind them. Willow spun around on her chair. Chloe glared at the back of Ophelia’s head, pink satin arms folded across her pink satin chest. The color matched the blush of her cheeks and lips. Her hair was perfectly mussed. It looked as if a team of beauticians had gotten her ready for a photo shoot for a mattress ad.
Willow adjusted her robe to cover her father’s old fire department t-shirt. She’d bought new lingerie for her wedding trip—the white silk negligee and a few other things—but had wanted the comfort of her old sleep shirt last night. Now she wished she’d worn the silk.
“Mat thinks she picked up a stomach bug, but you know Mother. Every headache could be a brain tumor, every stomachache, pancreatic cancer. She’s sleeping now, so I thought I’d come down.”
“She has been sick a lot since Uncle Ham died,” Ophelia said.
“She’s grieving.” Chloe walked to the end of the island. “What are you doing here, anyway?” She addressed the question to Ophelia.
“I lent Uncle Ham a book a few months ago. I wanted to check the library, see if I could find it.”
“Jonathan has the keys. I could get them for you,” Willow said.
Chloe looked back and forth between Willow and Ophelia, her expression difficult to read.
“Hot cross bun?” Cookie waved a plate at her temptingly.
“I’m not hungry, but I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”
Not hungry? Who needed to be hungry to eat one of these delectable treats? Willow had been going to ask for another but now thought better of it. The doctor had informed her that the whole eating-for-two thing was, unfortunately, not true. A svelte figure seemed to be expected in this family. She wasn’t sure pregnancy would be an excuse to lose hers.
Chloe leaned on the far end of the island and sipped the coffee Cookie had poured her. She took it black. Willow made a mental note. Perhaps she’d try to learn to like black coffee when she could drink it again. “Is Gerry feeling any better?” she asked.
Chloe gave a small shake of her head. “It seems to come in waves. She’ll be better for a bit, then watch out.” She looked at the wall clock in the kitchen. “I should probably go up again.”
Willow cleared her throat. “I could take a shift.”
Chloe turned a cool, blue-green gaze on her. “That’s sweet of you, but Dun will take over after her swim. I think Mother only wants family around her right now.”
That smarted, but Willow tried to tell herself no one knew she was part of the family yet. Well, no one but Ms. Dunfrey and Cookie and whoever else Ms. Dunfrey told.
Chloe left the room, and Ophelia’s shoulders appeared to relax. “I don’t know how Dun does it.”
“Does what?” Willow asked.
“Swims every morning, regardless of the weather. I hate the water.” Ophelia stood and moved toward the door. “Take care of yourself, Willow,” she shot over her shoulder.
That sounded more like a warning than a parting comment. There was obviously no love lost between Ophelia and Chloe. Willow would have to tread carefully. She was too new to the family to get in the middle of old drama. “I’d love another half of a bun, Cookie.” Compromise seemed best until she got the lay of the land.
6.2.3
Jonathan was awake when Willow returned to the room to dress. He yawned and stretched. “Where’ve you been?”
“I was in the kitchen having breakfast. I met Cookie.”
“And what gourmet delight did he whip up for you?”
“Hot cross buns, but he didn’t make them for me. He made them for your mother.”
“She loves them.” Jonathan scooted himself up and leaned against the headboard. “But I doubt he’ll get her to eat anything this morning.”
Willow opened the closet, removed a pair of jeans from a hanger—whoever heard of putting jeans on a hanger?—then leafed through her tops. What to wear for apartment hunting? She wanted to look nice, but not like she was trying too hard. She pulled out a white oxford that still covered her growing bump without straining at the buttons.
Jonathan eyed the clothes with a scowl and reached for her hand. “Come back to bed.”
“I thought we’d go look at apartments today.”
He drew her down next to him. “What’s the rush?”
She kissed him, but visions of the Dana Point condo from her dreams played against her closed eyelids. She pulled away. “Come on. Get up.”
He groaned.
“Seriously. Your mom is ill. She doesn’t need a new daughter-in-law banging around the house.”
“She loves having us here. She told me that between barfing sessions last night.”
That may be, but Willow didn’t love being here. Sunset House was beautiful and extravagant, but it wasn’t home. She wanted a place of their own where she could hang her inexpensive prints on the walls, curl up on the couch with popcorn and a movie, and walk around in her underwear if she was in the mood. “That’s nice of her, but... ”
Jonathan threw off the covers and crossed the room in his boxers, the morning chill raising goosebumps on his well-muscled arms. His abs could be on the cover of a steamy romance novel. For a moment she regretted not going back to bed.
She returned her gaze to her clothes. They could lay around in bed all day when they had their own place. The thought of staying in their room until lunch time then facing Dun’s and Chloe’s knowing looks, made her cheeks burn.
Twenty minutes later, she and Jonathan descended the stairs. When they reached the bottom, he turned toward her and took her hands. “Before we go apartment hunting, I want to show you something.”
A small knot formed in her stomach. What was it now? Every time she brought up getting their own place, he grew quiet or changed the subject. “Okay.” She said the word slowly.
He made a left, walked past the great room to the foyer, but didn’t leave the house through the big double doors. Instead, he made a right leading her down a hallway that was the mirror image of the one they’d left. This must be the left wing of the house, a place Willow had never been.
Jonathan strode with purpose to the far end of the corridor and threw open a door. Light flooded the dim hallway. He ushered Willow through the doorway ahead of him.
She crossed the threshold and skidded to a stop. The space that opened before her was under construction. Even in its unfinished state, it was stunning. Her gaze traveled across paint-speckled drop clothes to a pair of tall windows that looked out onto a green lawn. The lawn ended in a stand of tall palms, a patch of blue visible between them.
To the left of the large room was an unfinished half wall. On the other side of that was what she assumed was to become a kitchen and dining area. Heavy-duty electrical wiring jutted from holes in exposed wallboard.
“What do you think?” Jonathan’s face was bright and shining.
A lump formed in Willow’s chest. She couldn’t speak. He’d lied to her. He’d said they could go house hunting today. He’d never said he was planning to live here at Sunset House.
“There’s more.” He tugged her toward a stairway on their right. At the top of the stairs was a loft with two doors leading from it. “We could use this area for a home office.” He drew an arc with his hand. “I always end up bringing work home no matter how hard I try not to.”
He pushed open the farthest door. “Check out this view.” The room had a similar vantage as the living room downstairs but, because it was on the second floor, the ocean view was epic.
“This is the master bedroom. Mom ordered a double Jacuzzi tub and a walk-in shower for the bathroom, but if you don’t like that layout, we could change it.” Willow followed him across more dropcloths into a bathroom that was bigger than the bedroom she’d had growing up.
“And... ” He left the bedroom, walked onto the landing and placed a hand on the other door. “For the baby.” He gave it a shove and stepped back. The space was half as big as the master bedroom but still a good size. It was the only room in the apartment in which the walls had been painted. They were a lovely soft yellow. It was also the only room that had any furniture in it. In its center was an old, wooden cradle. It looked scuffed and used, and she loved it.
Jonathan must have told Gerry about the baby. It was the only explanation. This was her gift. A beautiful, incredible gift, but it was ruined by the sense of betrayal that lay like a brick on her chest. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t shove words past the tightness in her throat.
Jonathan’s grin faded. “We can change the color, and we don’t have to use the cradle.”
“Was it yours?” She managed to say.
A tentative smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. “Yes. Chloe and I had matching cradles. This one was mine. Mom took the blue bumpers off it before she had the workmen bring it up.”
“She knows about the baby.” It wasn’t a question. Willow knew the answer.
His gaze dropped to his shoes. “She and Dad guessed.”
“Because we got engaged so quickly?”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why make me think we had to keep it secret until the perfect moment?”
“I didn’t know.”
“So this,” she waved at the rooms around them. “This wasn’t your idea?”
His chin jerked forward. “No. I wouldn’t do all this without talking to you about it.”
Willow walked to the cradle and stroked the wood. She loved its simplicity. “Whose idea was it then?”
“Dad’s. He started renovations when I bought the ring. He wanted to give it to us as a wedding present.”
“When did you find out?”
“Last week. Right before we left for the Central Coast. I was going to tell you, but I thought it would be better if I showed it to you.”
The heaviness in her chest loosened a little. He hadn’t known about the apartment when he’d asked her to elope. He hadn’t lied when he’d said they could get their own place. No wonder he’d grown quiet every time she mentioned house hunting on their wedding trip.
She turned to face him. “It’s beautiful.” There was hesitation in her voice.
“But... ”
“It’s not ours. It’s your mother’s.”
Jonathan threw open his arms. “Someday everything will be ours.”
“That day could be a long way off.”
“Yes, but why get something else when we have all this?” He gestured toward the master bedroom on the other side of the wall. “I can’t afford that view on my paycheck.”
“Then we don’t get that view. We get what we can afford.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I don’t understand you, Willow. This apartment is perfect. Mom even held off on tile, paint, and appliances because she wants you to pick out what you want. If we rent something in town, it won’t belong to us either.”
That was true. They weren’t in a position to buy anything at the moment, not at Orange County prices. Jonathan’s family may be wealthy, but he wouldn’t receive anything other than his trust fund until his mother died. And he’d told her he had that wrapped up in investments.
Jonathan stepped toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Would it make you feel better if we paid rent?”
It would make her feel better if they weren’t living on his parents’ property under his mother’s nose. “Maybe. But I don’t like the idea of having to walk through someone else’s house every time I want to go somewhere.”
He brightened. “This has its own entrance. Didn’t you see it?”
He dragged her down the stairs, through the kitchen, through a glass-paned door, and down a short flight of stone steps into a garden. Willow blinked. The garden was like something from a children’s book. The circular space was covered in bright green grass and lined with a horseshoe of jasmine, affording it privacy from the main grounds. In its center was a citrus tree heavy with blossoms. Rose bushes covered with pink buds, hanging fuchsia baskets, and purple and yellow pansies decorated the scene with color.
The horseshoe’s opening led to a paved area overlooking the ocean on which wicker chairs were cozied around an outdoor fireplace. To the right of that was a redwood dining set and a grill. If Willow were to design a yard, this would be it.
An image of a baby sleeping in a playpen set in the shade of the tree, she and Jonathan reclining on lawn chairs nearby with books, morning papers, and coffee blossomed in her mind. The only thing missing was a white picket fence.
“We can use the south-facing garage, the small one Dad kept his classic cars in. Mom is going to sell them. Then you can come and go as privately as you please.”
“The rent on a place like this would be huge,” she said.
He inhaled and exhaled slowly, probably counting to ten. “Mom wouldn’t rent it to anyone else. Hell, she doesn’t even want to rent it to us. She wants to give it to us.”
A breeze ruffled the branches of the citrus tree, and the scent of its blossoms tickled her nose. “What if I did the library work for free.” Jonathan opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. “I couldn’t imagine charging the family anything anyway, especially not after this. I know it’s not equitable, but I think I’d feel better. Like I was contributing, anyway.”
He dropped his arms to his sides and adopted a New York accent. “If that’s what it takes to get you into this apartment today, Missy, I’m sure I can work something out with the boss.”
Willow felt the tension in her chest ease. This was fairy tale land. She should relax and enjoy it. “I can’t wait to show my mom. She’ll be a real help with the kitchen.” A pinch of stress returned. She pivoted to face Jonathan. “That’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, my mom knows appliances. I’m a total dweeb when it comes to cooking.”
She hadn’t needed to worry. Jonathan was beaming. “Are you kidding? My mom would pay your mom to advise us on the kitchen.”
“She doesn’t need to do that.”
“I’m know, but my point is—”
Willow never heard his point. Her imagination took her six months into the future, to the day they brought their child home from the hospital. As they made their way through the apartment again, colors and furniture appeared before her eyes. A distressed leather couch sat in the living room. Moss green walls turned to taupe and back to moss. The three black-and-white photos of violins she’d framed for her San Diego apartment were hung over the fireplace.
Jonathan, still talking about whatever he was talking about, opened the door that adjoined the apartment to the rest of Sunset House. The fairy tale popped like a soap bubble.
6.2.4
The next morning when Willow woke, Jonathan wasn’t in bed beside her. A note rested on his pillow.
Had to run to the office. Should be home by lunch.
Left keys to the library on the dresser in case you want to look around.
XXXOOO,
Me
Disappointment washed over her. She lay staring at the ceiling for several long seconds. Jonathan had said he’d take the week off. Even if there hadn’t been a big ceremony or honeymoon, it was the first week of their marriage. She’d counted on spending it together, finding an apartment, moving her things in, shopping for the extras, building their life.
Of course, most of that was off the table now that they were planning to live here at Sunset House. There really wasn’t any reason he shouldn’t go to the office.
She threw off the blankets and walked to the window. She was being ungrateful. Most people would give their right arm to live here, and she was pouting because she didn’t have to spend money she didn’t have on an apartment she didn’t need.
She pushed the curtains aside to view the weather. Fog rolled across the pool like low moving clouds blurring its surface. She shivered. The world looked cold and unappealing. It would have been a terrible day to go house hunting anyway.
