“Does he? Remember what I told you about photographers?”
“You’re hung up on the stereotype. You’ve never met Brian.”
“Then tell me. What’s he like?” Slowly Adele returned to her trifle, but she was clearly distracted.
“He’s tall, dark and handsome, for starters.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“No. Some are squat and wiry-haired—”
“And wear heavy gold jewelry, have their eyes on every attractive woman in sight and can’t make it through a sentence without a ‘darling’ or ‘sweetie’ or ‘babe.’”
Marni grinned. “Brian doesn’t use any of those words. He doesn’t wear any jewelry except a watch, which is slim and unobtrusive, and he may have the same appreciation that any other man his age has for a beautiful woman, but he’s never looked at another woman the way he looks at me.” Nicely put, Marni thought, almost poetic. She’d have to remember that one.
“How old is he?”
“Forty.”
“And he’s never married?”
“No.”
“That’s something strange to think about. Why hasn’t he married? A man who’s got looks and a name for himself … maybe he’s queer.”
If Marni had had a mouthful of coffee, she would have choked on it. It was all she could do to keep a straight face. “Would he be interested in me if he was?”
Adele’s lips twitched downward in disdain. “Maybe he goes both ways.”
“He doesn’t. Take my word for it.”
“And you take his word that he doesn’t have an ex-wife or two to support?”
“He’s never been married,” Marni stated unequivocably, then took a sip of her coffee. She knew her mother. The questions were just beginning. She only wished they would all be as amusing.
“Where does he come from?”
“Pennsylvania, originally.”
Adele took another tiny forkful of trifle. “What about his parents?”
“His mother is dead. His father is an insurance broker.” She’d anticipated the question and had thought about the answer she’d give. To say “stepfather” would only be to invite questions. Web had never known his biological father, hence Marni felt justified in responding as she did.
Adele was chewing and swallowing each bit of information along with the trifle. “How long has he been a photographer?”
“He’s been at it since his mid-twenties.”
“I assume, given the reputation Tanya claims he has, that he earns a good living.”
“What kind of a question is that, Mother?”
“It’s a mother’s kind of question.”
“I’m an independent adult. I earn a more than comfortable salary for myself. Why should it matter what W—what Brian earns?” The sudden skip of her heart hadn’t been caused by her indignation. She’d nearly slipped. Brian was a safe name; Web was not. She’d have to be more careful.
Adele scolded her gently. “Don’t get upset, darling. For the first time in your adult life, you’ve told me that you’re serious about a man. Your father and I have waited a long time for this. It’s only natural that we be concerned about whether he’s right for you. Realistically speaking, you’re a wealthy woman. We wouldn’t want to think that some man was interested in you for your money.”
Farcical. That was what it was, and Marni couldn’t help but laugh. “No, Brian isnotinterested in my money. Not that it matters, but he’s far from being a pauper. He has an extremely lucrative career, he owns the building that houses his studio and his apartment and he’s got a weekend home on acres of woodland in Vermont.” She hesitated, wondering just how much to say, then decided to throw caution aside. “We were there last weekend. It’s beautiful.”
