But, right now, we had bigger fish to fry than the house.
“She offers to have his baby, he can’t quit casually touching her the entire night, and they smile at each other like no one else is in the room.” Liv stirred the bourbon into her tea with her knife and said, “How are we the only ones who can tell they are meant for each other?”
I sighed wearily. They did have a spark, those two. And, more and more, I noticed them sneaking off to the side at parties or family events, laughing and sharing private jokes. One could argue that they were good friends, but, in their presence, anyone could feel the current that ran between them.
Liv added, “So does this help the plan or hurt it? I can’t tell.”
I looked at her like she was dense. “Who cares about the damn plan? Can you even imagine the scandal of this? What is wrong with Amelia?”
Olivia motioned for me to sit down and handed me my drink. “Oh, Liz, everyone will be talking about it, but it’s not really ascandal.”
I guessed she was right. Amelia had always been so strong-willed. I didn’t know where she got it.
“And don’t you see, Liz?”
I didn’t see.
“Amelia will get pregnant with Parker’s baby, and they willbe together all the time, and they will see what we have known for years.”
I gasped. “That they’re meant for each other.” I paused. “So this is a good thing?”
“I think it could be, if we play our cards right.” Liv got up and began collecting the linen napkins from the table.
I nodded furiously. “We need them here, where we can keep an eye on them, make sure they fall in love.”
“Liz, it’s too good. I’ll make sure the guest quarters are perfect, and they’ll be playing house and having this baby together, and they won’t be able to help but see how beautiful a couple they make.”
“But we’ll have to protest,” I said as she set the napkins on the buffet. They were beautifully monogrammed linen, but they had not been in her family for generations. I got another pang at the thought of letting go of my home.
“Oh, of course. I will have a fit about them living together, that kind of thing—”
“Which will only spur them on,” I finished for her.
We shared a wide smile, and I took a sip of tea as she disappeared into the kitchen. Liv and I would be in-laws yet.
ParkerRUN OF THE MILL
THE LAST TIME I HADbeen this nervous about going to talk to George, I had asked him if I could marry Greer. I knew he liked me, but there’s a huge difference between liking someone and thinking they are a suitable husband for your baby girl.
George was a man much like the men I had grown up with. Large and imposing, he wore a suit and tie every day, chewed the end of a cigar, and used words like “acumen” and “acrimonious.” Men of his generation were raised not to let people know what they were thinking. And George’s parents had done a top-notch job, because I could never, ever tell what George McCann was thinking.
Greer would come home and tell me how over the moon her family was for me, and I would think,Really? Even your father?
George had had an incredibly difficult time with his wife’sdeath, and his pain was so palpable that you could almost smell it before you reached him. I knew that Greer’s wedding would bring up a whole flood of emotions for him. A part of me wished we had just gone ahead and gotten married three months in so that Karen could have seen the wedding. She would have loved that.
Six years earlier, George had said stoically, “I’m not losing a daughter. I’m gaining a son.” Then he slapped me on the back and poured me some scotch. But this talk was different. This wasn’t something as run-of-the-mill as a proposal. This wasn’t run-of-the-mill at all.
When I walked into his top-floor corner office that morning, George was, as always, behind his huge mahogany desk and theWall Street Journal. I asked him one morning how he had time to read two newspapers every day. He had looked shocked. “Parker, how do you have time not to?”
Greer had taken his ritual to heart. She had read theWall Street Journaland theNew York Timesevery day, too, right up until the month she died.
He peeked over the top of the paper and folded it neatly when he saw me. He stood up and said, “What are you doing here, son? I thought you were in North Carolina.”
I nodded and swallowed. George gestured for me to sit in one of the small black leather wingback chairs that flanked his desk.
“Well, sir…” That was a dead giveaway that I was nervous; I always said “sir” a lot when I was. “I need to talk to you about something.”
He nodded knowingly. “Ah yes. I’ve been waiting for this. I’ve known it was coming for quite some time. And I want you to know that you have my blessing.”
