All the Pretty Poses
Page 5

“Good morning,” I reply, returning her gesture. The smell of garden flowers drifts up to tickle my nose and remind me of all the happy childhood memories I have with Tanny. When I lean back to look down at her, her blue eyes are shining brightly. Happily. She looks more like herself—younger, attractive, loving. Maybe the worst of Malcolm’s death has passed. “You’re looking well.”
She smiles, glancing down at her crisp white blouse and navy blue slacks, and brushing away an imaginary piece of lint. “Why, thank you. I’ve been called in for the reading of the will as well, and I…I…”
I curl my fingers around her thin upper arms. “It’ll be fine, Tanny. I promise.” Her smile is only a little sad today.
“I know it will, my sweet. One way or the other.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “So, have you had company this morning?”
“As a matter of fact I have,” she confirms. “And now I get some more. My two favorite people, two days in a row. I couldn’t be happier.”
“Yes, I thought I saw Kennedy leaving. What did she want?”
Tanny laughs. “She was just visiting. Is that allowed, Mr. Nosey?”
I smile, wanting to press her for information, but knowing I’d better not. Tanny is the type of person that needs a soft approach. To be such a sweet and loving woman, she can be quite stubborn when she decides she doesn’t want to do something. Despite her appearance, she’s a tough woman, so I can’t come at her straight on. “I’m sorry. Of course it is. I haven’t kept up with Kennedy much in the last several years, so I was just curious. That’s all.”
“She’s been doing just fine. Couldn’t be prouder of the young woman she’s become. She went through pure hell, but she didn’t let it break her. She’s made of stronger stuff than what it looks like.”
“Pure hell? What’s that all about?” That piques my curiosity even more.
Tanny begins to shake her head. “Those aren’t my stories to tell. If you really want to know, you’ll have to ask her yourself. Even then, I’m not sure she’d want you to know. That’s for her to decide.”
Now I really want to press her, but I know it won’t do me any good. Tanny has a fierce sense of loyalty. Normally, that extends to me, but it also extends to Kennedy. I know this from years gone by. So, between the two of us, she’ll betray neither one.
Damn.
“Well, I’m sure I’ll find a chance. She’ll be working for me on one of my cruises.”
“She will, will she?” Tanny asks with a sly grin.
I falter for a split second. “Yes. Or did she tell you something different?”
Tanny’s grin melts into a kind smile. “No, she didn’t tell me any different. I just don’t think you should make too many assumptions or take too many things for granted with her. She’s not the same girl you knew all those years ago, Harrison.”
“She’s an adult, Tanny. I’m sure she is perfectly capable of making decisions for herself. And dealing with the consequences.”
“Maybe she’s not the one I’m worried about.”
********
I glance at my watch again. Along with Tanny, myself and my father, there are various other attorneys and representatives present. We are all waiting, albeit impatiently, for Malcolm’s lawyer to arrive. He’s nearly twenty minutes late already. At this rate, I’ll be leaving before he even gets here.
Across the table, I see my father glance at his watch within seconds of me glancing at mine. I resist the urge to curl my lip at our likeness. I don’t want to be anything like him. But I am. I know I am. To some degree, it was inevitable. I learned from him. From watching him, listening to him, being around him. It’s times like this when I see the similarities and I abhor every single one of them. I just haven’t yet found a good enough reason to change things. After all, Henslow Spencer is very successful. And, at this point, that’s my biggest motivator—having more, achieving more, being more. Just…more.
With a muffled thump, the door behind me opens. I don’t turn to see who entered. I just know it had better be the lawyer or I’m outta here.
A robust man wearing a wool jacket with leather on the elbows makes his way to the only empty chair at the round mahogany table. He sets his briefcase atop it, making eye contact with each of us and nodding a silent greeting. After he’s retrieved a thick manila folder from inside his case, he snaps shut the locks and sets it on the floor, clearing his throat before he begins.
“Sorry for the delay, gentlemen. There were some…last-minute details that needed my attention, but now I’m ready to execute this, the last will and testament of Malcolm Henry Spencer.”
No one speaks as he opens the folder and rifles through papers, pulling out one document with a light blue backing.
As he begins formally reading the will, I suppress the urge to sigh in bored frustration. It’s not that I’m not grateful for whatever my uncle Malcolm left me. I was closer to him than practically anybody for the first half of my life. It’s just that I have other things—and other people—on my mind, making it hard for me to sit patiently through something like this when I’d much rather be sitting across from Kennedy. Watching her. Studying her. Formulating a plan for getting her back in my bed with the greatest speed.
Mr. Bingham gets my full attention with the mention of my name.
“In deference to Mr. Harrison Spencer’s departure schedule, I’ll begin with the family estate known to all as Bellano. Per Malcolm’s wishes, ‘The estate will be left, in equal parts ownership, to my nephew, Harrison Ronaldo Spencer, or his closest living relative, and Mary Elizabeth Spencer or her closest living relative. All decisions regarding the grounds, the estate holdings and the upkeep will be made jointly, with the exception of the presence of Mrs. Judith E. Tannenbaum, whom I hereby grant a life estate at Bellano’.”
When Bingham pauses to continue, hushed whispers break out around the table. I’m as surprised as everyone else to hear that Malcolm left Bellano to me, but, also like everyone else, I’m very surprised to hear of a female Spencer relative being named as well. Since its existence, Bellano has never been left to a woman, much less one who no one has ever heard of.
It’s my father who finally asks the question on everyone’s mind. “Who, exactly, is Mary Elizabeth Spencer?”
Mr. Bingham glances nervously around the table. “Malcolm had this codicil drawn up just weeks prior to his death. I was out of town, so my partner did the work for him. Unfortunately, being unfamiliar with the family, he didn’t get any more information on Ms. Spencer, so I’m still in the process of locating her.”
“Well, you’d better make quick work of it, Bingham, because if you can’t produce this supposed heir, a woman with whom none of us are familiar, you can bet your ass I’ll be contesting this will. Bellano is the Spencer family home, and it will stay with the real Spencers if I have to take it to the Supreme Court to see that it does.”
I catch movement from the corner of my eye and glance over to see Tanny drop her head and close her eyes. I’m sure she’s thinking it’s a shame that grown men have to act like this only days after the death of a loved one. And over possessions, no less. It makes me feel ashamed for being so much like my father.
“Mr. Spencer, I assure you—”
“I don’t trust that you can assure me of anything, Mr. Bingham,” my father snaps.
I look at Tanny’s pale face again and it spurs me into action.
“Mr. Bingham, will that be all the need you have of me or Mrs. Tannenbaum? If so, I think we’d both like to get on with our plans for the day.” The least I can do is spare Tanny any more of this unpleasantness. “Please forward copies of the will to my attorney. You have his information already, I believe.”
When I glance back at Tanny, she’s watching me with watery, grateful eyes. I smile at her and she gives me a subtle, regal nod of acknowledgment.
“Yes, I do. And yes, this is the only part that pertains to either of you. It’s my understanding that Malcolm has already given to Mrs. Tannenbaum any of his possessions that he wanted her to have. Is that accurate, Mrs. Tannenbaum?”
“Yes, it is,” comes her quiet reply.
No one in the room argues. Whatever Malcolm saw fit to give Tanny is still probably less than she deserves for staying with him all these years. Even my cold, hard father knows that.
“In that case, I think we’ll be on our way.” I stand and walk to Tanny’s chair, pulling it back as she comes to her feet. “Gentleman.” I give the room a glancing nod and then I escort Tanny out the door.
Once we’ve left the study and all the tension there behind us, I turn to Tanny. “Do you know who this Mary Elizabeth is? Did Malcolm ever mention her?”
Tanny raises her face to mine and I notice how ashen she is. “Harrison, would you mind if I went to lie down? I believe I might have a migraine coming on. Just the stress of the last few days…”
She lays a shaking hand on my arm and starts to walk off, even before I can reply. Bending, I sweep her into my arms. “I’ll carry you,” I tell her simply, walking the short distance down the hall to her room at the back of the house, nearest Malcolm’s.
It looks just like it did when I was last here all those years ago. Antique furnishings covered in faded rose-and-cream colored fabrics, a fresh flower arrangement sitting on the dresser and a book lying on the night table right beside her reading glasses. Everything in this room is elegant, womanly and one hundred percent Tanny.
Gently, I deposit her on the bed and then move to the windows behind it, drawing the blinds shut. Before I leave, I bend to kiss Tanny’s cool cheek.
“Rest. You have my number if you need anything. I’ll come and stay for a few weeks when I get back into the country. But if something happens and you need me before then, call. Okay?”
She nods.
“Promise me.”
Her smile is small. “I promise.”
“I’ll get all this straightened out. Don’t worry over it.”
Her smile deepens. “I won’t worry. You go on. Have a good time with Kennedy.”
“So she is coming?” I feel relieved. Tanny was a bit vague earlier.
“Yes, I believe she’s coming.”
“I’ll take good care of her, Tanny.”
She reaches up to pinch my chin. “You’d better, young man.”
I laugh. “God forbid I suffer the wrath of Tanny.”
“Just so long as you know,” she says with a grin before she waves me out the door. “Now, you go on. Have a safe trip. And have fun.”
I don’t tell her how much fun I plan to have. I only smile as I pull the door shut behind me.
CHAPTER TEN - Kennedy
I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to pack. I guess I was hoping for a sign that I’m doing the right thing. But I didn’t get one, so I’ve been left to muddle through the decision-making process the best that I can. In the end, I go with my gut. All my other gauges lie in direct contradiction to one another. My head says I’m strong and I can do this. My heart says I’m crazy to risk being around Reese again. Those two still haven’t reached an agreement, so that’s why I had to consult another faculty—my gut. And it says that I can do this, that I need to go for the dream. This could be my only chance to chase it with any hope of catching it.
But my gut can’t tell me what to pack. I mean, Reese has told me virtually nothing about this cruise. I throw a variety of clothes into my suitcase, along with my toiletries and a couple of swimsuits just in case. I stand staring at it for at least five minutes as I rack my brain for other things I might need. Giving up when I can think of nothing but the way it felt to have Reese touch my face again, I decide it might be prudent to just ask. But rather than calling, I take the coward’s way out and I text Reese instead.
Me: What do I need to pack? I don’t know where we’re going or what I’ll need, work-wise.
As I’m waiting for his response, Bozey, my calico-colored Maine Coon cat, weaves a warm figure eight around my legs as if to remind me not to forget about making arrangements for him. I reach down to scoop him up and he drapes bonelessly over my arm.
“I could never forget about you, Bozey.” I nuzzle his nose with mine. He twitches his ears, letting me know that I’m pushing the personal space boundaries, but otherwise he tolerates it pretty well. He’s a very good cat and I already feel guilty about leaving him. “Clive will take good care of you,” I tell him, referring to my elderly neighbor who loves Bozey almost as much as I do. Bozey loves him, too.
I give Bozey an extra nuzzle for good measure just as the bleep of my phone alerts me to an incoming text. It’s Reese. His response is not terribly surprising.
For a man.
A ladies’ man.
Reese: As far as I’m concerned you don’t have to pack any clothes. Consider clothing optional any time you’re in my company.
I can easily picture his gorgeous grin and the devilish light in his aqua eyes, and some small part of me melts a little. Just a little.
I steel myself against it, against him. As I will continue to do for the next several weeks until I can put Reese behind me. Again. Maybe for good this time.
Me: Warm weather? Cold weather? Do I need to bring clothes to dance in? And will you have uniforms for the service staff?
I’m trying to keep it professional, whether that’s the way he wants it or not. Tough shit.
Reese: Warm weather. Bring what you want to wear. Your work clothing is taken care of.