The Wedding Deal Page 2

“May I get you anything else?” he asked.

  “You don’t happen to have a million bucks lying around, do you?”

  One corner of his mouth tipped in almost-a-smile. “You’re flying in it, young lady.”

  “Wow. I’m going to be spoiled for the rest of my life. And you’re here to pamper just two of us?”

  “Fresh fruit?” He produced a bowl of grapes and strawberries. “To answer your question, not just the two of you. We also have a pilot and co-pilot on board.”

  “Oh. I see.” Even though she hadn’t seen them at all. “I’m Darcy Summerlin.”

  “I’m Alistair May. Do you think Ms. Lulamae will want to dine before we land?”

  Darcy reached over and touched Lulamae’s hand. She didn’t stir at all. “She’s sound asleep,” said Darcy. “If she wakes up, I’ll let you know.”

  Alistair gave a tiny bow of the head. “As you wish, madam. I shall tend to the pilots.” He turned away, headed for the cockpit.

  “Wow, wow, and double wow,” murmured Darcy. “I wonder how much money you need to afford a million-dollar plane and a personal flight attendant.” Or, for that matter, a personal assistant and cook and driver and who knew what else. She’d met Lulamae’s cook, Maria, and a couple of the others at the house, who moved about their business as if they were auditioning for a mime troupe. Lulamae had said her husband was in Qatar, working on an oil deal. That implied a lot of money. She sighed and gazed out the window.

  The flight was only ninety minutes, but Darcy managed to eat all the grapes before they landed. The plane touched down with an angel-soft thump. A moment later, Alistair reappeared. “Perhaps we can wake Ms. Lulamae,” he suggested. “We have a car waiting.”

  “I hope it’s roomy. She needs to stretch out her legs.”

  “May I ask about the cane?”

  “Oh, she fell and dislocated her hip, so she’s having to heal all over again.”

  “The poor dear. May I?” He reached past Darcy and ever so gently, he touched the poor dear’s shoulder. “Ms. Lulamae? We’re in Pueblo. A car is waiting to take us to Eagle’s Toe.”

  Lulamae blinked a couple of times, then smiled as she recognized him. “Alistair! It’s so good to see you again. I thought the Darbys were nice to send their jet for us, but I didn’t know we’d also have the pleasure of your company.” Her eyes sparkled with a silent smile. “Darcy, you have no idea what an honor it is to have Alistair pretend to be our flight attendant.”

  Alistair let both corners of his mouth tilt up in a smile. “You are too kind, madam.”

  “How is Dolores doing?”

  “Having Jason and Vicky in the house has been a fountain of youth for her. She’s playing the piano again.”

  “Wonderful.” Lulamae leaned toward Darcy. “Jason’s wife, Vicky, is a concert pianist.”

  Darcy made an appreciative noise.

  “If you ladies will wait here a moment, I’ll transfer your luggage to the car.”

  “Thank you,” said Darcy. As the door of the jet opened to reveal a brief flight of stairs, she had a thought. “Ms. Lulamae, I’m worried about you getting down those steps.”

  “Have faith in Alistair,” drawled Lulamae. “Do you have my pills, cherie?”

  “Half or whole?”

  “Half.” She winked at Darcy. “I’m hoping there will be refreshments in the car.”

  Darcy gave her half a pill and one of the bottles of water that had been supplied by Alistair, and Lulamae took her medication. When Alistair returned, he came with a lightweight wheelchair. “Your transport awaits,” he said with a flourish. Before she could object, he added, “Only to help with the stairs.”

  Darcy helped Lulamae stand. Once on her feet, she used her cane to walk to the chair. “Try not to drop me. I don’t bounce anymore.”

  “Yes, madam.” He gestured with two fingers, and a broad-shouldered man in a spiffy pilot’s uniform emerged from the cockpit. He tipped his hat at Darcy, then proceeded to ease Lulamae’s wheelchair expertly down to the tarmac.

  As Darcy followed her employer down the steps, she wondered what it would be like to have a limo waiting at her private jet and have people rush to serve her. Not being a princess or anything, but just knowing you could afford such service? She had spent a good portion of her childhood imagining what money could do for her if it were available in large amounts.

  In Hollywood, she had rented a room from another aspiring actress because she couldn’t afford an apartment on her own. But even that had felt like a step up, because her bedroom growing up had been very small, with a tiny window high in the wall. Her mother did the best she could to keep body and soul together, but Darcy had been dreaming of Hollywood glory since she was five years old.

  As Lulamae maneuvered herself into the back seat of the limo, pooh-poohing Alistair’s offer of assistance and lifting her right leg with one hand to help it into the car, Darcy knew that her childhood dreams were dust now. She had learned way too much about how Hollywood and the big studios worked. The only film offer she had managed to garner was in a porn film, and it’d felt like a slap in the face. That wasn’t the final blow, but it was enough of a setback to make her feel as cheap as her mother’s old house.

  Lulamae called out, “Darcy? Cherie, come get in the car and pour me some refreshment, pretty please.”

  Darcy got in. She was amazed at the room in the limo. It looked even bigger than her old bedroom. Her shoes sank into plush carpet, and her hand caressed the soft leather of the seat. But she was at a loss as to where the refreshments were.

  Lulamae seemed to understand. “Don’t be intimidated, cherie. It’s just a big automobile. Push that button there, in the middle of the partition.”

  Darcy did so, and the door of a small refrigerator popped open. “My goodness, I could live in this car,” she said.

  Lulamae chuckled. “You remind me of my own reaction, way back in the day, when Tex came to pick me up for a date in a long, white limousine. Oh, I thought he was hot stuff back then.”

  Darcy poured an inch of vodka into one of the chilled glasses, then added orange juice from a carton in the door. Lulamae took the glass and held it in both hands. Darcy asked, “Is it all right if I have a soda?”

  “Of course,” said Lulamae. “Oh, pass me one of those little bags of chips, please. I think Alistair keeps them in that drawer under the TV screen.”

  Darcy was flabbergasted. “Okay,” she said, opening the bag for Lulamae, “that does it. I never want to leave this limo.” At Lulamae’s urging, she took some chips for herself. “Do you have one of these in that huge garage of yours?”

  Lulamae smacked her lips and laughed, raising her glass in a salute. “At home, I prefer my huge Lincoln SUV. Not quite as roomy, but it’s easier for my driver to park. Now Tex…there’s a different story. He loves to chauffeur oil magnates around Vegas in a luxury limo. It takes a lot to impress those fellows, you know.”

  Darcy didn’t know, and she couldn’t imagine how any vehicle could be more inviting than the one she was in. “Does he do a lot of business in the Middle East?”

  “Oh my, yes. He’s over there nearly half the year. Not all in one stretch, mind you, but he has a lot invested over there. He wanted to fly home and be with me when I dislocated my hip, but I wouldn’t let him. He was in the middle of an important deal, and there was nothing he could do for me anyway. He fusses way too much when I’m recuperating.”

  Darcy smiled. “It’s nice that he wanted to come home, though.”

  Lulamae sipped at her drink. “He’s a good man.”

  Darcy leaned back on the seat and tried to memorize every fancy detail of the limo’s interior. Some day…some day, she’d thought she would have a driver and a limo. But that was before her ambitions were shot down in Hollywood. She sighed heavily, still mourning her childhood dreams.

  Alistair’s voice came floating from the front seat. “I hope everything is satisfactory, madam.”

  Lulamae raised her v
oice and her glass at the same time. “We’re doing fine. Y’all just keep us on the road.”

  Darcy suppressed a smile. “How can you worry about traveling in the limo when you didn’t even white-knuckle our takeoff in the jet?”

  Lulamae swished the liquid in her glass. “Air travel is much safer, statistically, than riding in an automobile. But we’re in good hands.”

  “Is Alistair a professional chauffeur?”

  “Oh no. He’s a five-star butler, a manservant in the old mold. His father did the same thing for a living. He sort of grew up into it. The Darbys consider him part of the family.”

  Darcy nodded and gazed out the window, but her mind turned inward and she imagined herself in a huge marble mansion, giving orders to her very own manservant. Maybe dreams are supposed to stay dreams, she thought. But if my dream is Lulamae’s reality, there’s still hope for me.

  * * *

  Tony was dragging by the time he parked his rental car in the Cattleman’s parking lot. He couldn’t face all the hullabaloo that would accompany the return of the prodigal son…or brother…or cousin. He knew he’d get at least two offers of a place to stay, maybe more, but he needed his own space.

  The trip from Geneva had taken eighteen hours, counting time spent in airports, and he was ready to flop on a bed and let the vibration of long distance travel flow out of him.

  He asked for the penthouse suite and was surprised when the woman at the front desk said it was already booked. After all, in a little town like Eagle’s Toe, how many visitors would want the penthouse? He settled for a large suite with a sitting room, a bedroom, and a lavish bathroom.

  He’d been hanging out in Europe for so long, he’d forgotten what an American builder could do for a room with such an ignoble purpose. The shower, with its multiple shower heads, lured him in, and he paid homage to the builder’s craft by standing under the hot water for half an hour.

  Feeling refreshed on the outside, but with jet lag still lurking under the skin, he unzipped his suitcase and retrieved a clean pair of jeans, underwear, and a long-sleeved tee. He contemplated putting his things away properly but just couldn’t face it. Now that he was back in the States, he felt let down that his relatives weren’t knocking on his door to welcome him home.

  “Which is ridiculous,” he muttered, “because they don’t know where I am. Besides, twenty-four hours ago, I was dreading that very situation.” He settled on the bed, wrestled with a pillow until his head was comfortable, and willed the jet lag to leave his body. He’d spent the last couple of years skiing all over the world with no desire for family company, except for his brief visit for Axel’s wedding. He had unplugged, as it were. No cellphone. No permanent address in Europe. Limiting himself to email contact through his laptop.

  The thought of email won out over the lure of the pillow. He opened his carry-on bag and retrieved his laptop and a portable wi-fi Hotspot. Then he settled back on the bed to read his messages.

  Both of them.

  One from the resort he’d just left, asking him to rate his experience there.

  The other…hallelujah…from his brother.

  Hey, bro, got your message. Can’t wait to see you. Taylor is preparing the guest room. Axel

  Oh dear. And so it begins. He hoped they wouldn’t be upset that he’d taken a room at the Cattleman’s Inn. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. At last, he responded. “In town, at Cattleman’s. Jet lag. Looking forward to our visit.”

  He hesitated before hitting send. He didn’t want to commit to a long stay, so he’d used “visit.” He hoped the jet lag excuse would give him a few hours of peace and quiet. Part of him felt like a coward. He’d come home because he missed Axel… and because Europe was getting too small for him. The countess came to mind. Way too small. So why was he postponing actually seeing his relatives? He sighed deeply, hit send, and closed the laptop. Maybe he could make sense of it all after a nap.

  But he was still buzzing from his long trip. Closing his eyes didn’t help. After five minutes, he rolled off the bed and opened his suitcase again. He might as well unpack because he planned to stay at the Cattleman’s for his entire visit.

  Visit. Good word. No permanence attached to that word. Although…he really was tired of his vagabond existence. So he might be here for quite a while. He mused on his situation while pulling clothes out of his suitcase and depositing them in drawers. He hadn’t owned anything that required hanging in a closet for years. He’d rented a suit for Axel’s wedding and managed to spend less than twenty-four hours in Eagle’s Toe that trip.

  Only a few items left. He lifted the remaining stack of tee shirts and carried it to a drawer. As he set them down, he frowned. They certainly had more weight in the dry Colorado air. He lifted them one by one until he found the culprit, a burgundy velvet drawstring bag closed with a soft golden cord. He’d never seen it before.

  “What the heck?” He tossed the bag from hand to hand. Definitely heavier than a tee shirt.

  A memory exploded in his mind—the countess perching her well-dressed backside on his luggage in the lobby of the ski resort. And her parting words: “I will explain everything.”

  Tony shook his head. “Now what is she up to?” He was building up the courage to open the little bag. At least he’d spoken the truth, as he knew it, at customs when they asked if he had anything to declare. If he’d known she slipped something in his bag, he would have been sweating bullets. Handling a tricky downhill course was one thing, but the thought of being arrested for smuggling made him break a cold sweat. Would she ever leave him alone?

  He worked at the golden cord, irritated that it was tied in a knot. The velvet was lumpy with whatever was inside. What in the world had that woman been thinking? And why pick on him? The whole paternity threat was ridiculous. He’d never slept with her.

  His fingers worked at the knot, with no success. With every fumble, his irritation grew. He was cursing at it under his breath when someone knocked on his door.

  “What? Who?” He laid the bag on the top of the dresser and went to the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tony opened the door and found a slightly rotund man with a gap between his front teeth. His bushy eyebrows were practically doing calisthenics.

  “Excuse me, sir, but your name is Garrison, correct?”

  Tony looked at him askance. “Please don’t tell me the countess found me already.”

  “No, no. What countess? Never mind. I’m Reese McAvoy, I own the Cattleman’s, and one of our visitors has had an accident in the lobby. She said one of her godchildren was already in the hotel. And when she gave me your name, well, I—”

  “Lulamae? Lulamae is here?” Tony grabbed his wallet off the dresser and stuffed it in his jeans pocket. “Did you call an ambulance?” He nearly pushed Reese out of the way. “Sorry, I haven’t seen her in…” Well, he saw her at Axel’s wedding, but that was none of this guy’s business. “Let’s go. Is she traveling alone?” He was trotting for the elevators, Reese huffing and puffing behind him.

  “Yes. No. I mean—”

  The elevator doors finally surrendered on the tenth punch of the call button, and they both entered.

  Reese was still talking. “My wife is calling Thor as we speak. She didn’t want an ambulance.”

  “Your wife?”

  “No, your godmother. She refused.”

  “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

  “The express elevator only stops at the penthouse suites,” offered Reese. “She seemed okay, but—”

  “Are you a doctor?”

  “Well, no, but I—” He paused as the elevator doors opened at last. “—I try to keep my customers happy.”

  Tony didn’t wait to hear more. He took off across the marble floor to Registration where a small crowd had gathered. “Excuse me, pardon me.” He elbowed his way through. “Lulamae? Are you all right?”

  Lulamae was sitting on a padded bench, trying to assure everyone that she was okay.
“I don’t need an ambulance. My cane slipped, that’s all.” She glanced up. “Tony? Tony Garrison, as I live and breathe!” She reached for him.

  “Don’t get up,” said Tony, taking her hands in his and stopping her effort to stand. “What happened? Are you traveling alone? Oh my God, you shouldn’t be running around all over the country without help.”

  A sharp female voiced countered, “She’s not alone. I came with her.”

  Without looking away from Lulamae, Tony scolded, “Well, what kind of caretaker are you?”

  Lulamae clucked at him. “I don’t need a caretaker.”

  Tony ignored that. “Did she fall? Weren’t you holding onto her? What’s the matter with you?” He finally glanced in the direction of the voice and suddenly had no words.

  Lulamae patted his hands. “This is Darcy. She’s working as my personal assistant.”

  “D-d-d-arcy?”

  Darcy nodded vigorously. Her expression matched the irritation in her voice. “Yes, are you deaf? Now move over and let me do my job.” She stared him into a wordless retreat, but he stopped two feet away.

  Lulamae was explaining. “I’m so sorry, cherie. I didn’t expect my cane to slip on this floor.” She turned to Tony. “I didn’t exactly fall.”

  Darcy intervened. “You came way too close for comfort, Ms. Lulamae. I saw you lurch as you caught your balance.”

  Tony found his voice again. “Lurch? She lurched and you want to send her to the hospital?”

  Darcy pinned him with a glare. “You’re her godson, right? So…you aren’t exactly related, correct?” Her tone made it clear that she did not want some stranger interfering with her charge.

  Reese McAvoy finally caught up. “Mrs. McAvoy just got off the phone with 911. An ambulance is on its way.”

  Lulamae gave a big sigh and grabbed Darcy’s hand. “Once those paramedics arrive, the jig is up. But you’ll come with me, won’t you?”

  “Of course I will,” said Darcy.

  Lulamae whispered, “You have my pain pills, right?”

  “Yes. I have everything.” She glared at Tony again. “Everything is under control.”