Chapter 9

 

 

“Can you please make a decision, Barbara? My arms are about to fall off. Both of them!”

James didn’t say anything, even though he felt he might be two arms short pretty soon, too. He watched his girlfriend, who considered each corner of the empty living room, one by one, before hesitantly pointing at the left wall.

“There—put the sofa there.”

“Come on, James,” Barbara’s brother Patrick groaned. He’d flown all the way to California just to help them with their move. “I hope she’s serious this time and doesn’t chase us into the other corner with this monster.”

The “monster” was a brand-spanking-new sofa, which James and Barbara had picked out two months earlier, after she dragged him through countless furniture stores. He hadn’t cared deeply whether their sofa was eggshell, ivory, seashell white, or slate, but Barbara had attached great importance to the details of furnishing the first apartment they would inhabit together.

That was probably the reason why, for the last two hours, she’d been unable to decide where the sofa should go, where the paintings should be hung, and whether to put the TV on top of this dresser or that one.

While Patrick complained, James couldn’t help but delight in his girlfriend’s eagerness. After all, she was putting all her energy into their new nest. He couldn’t stop watching her bustle about the two-room apartment, her face twisted into this fully focused expression that made his heart sing.

“This is the perfect spot for it,” was her verdict. She was starting her second year at Stanford in two weeks, while James was going to be a junior. He wasn’t the least bit concerned about the fact that one year ago they hadn’t even met yet, and now they were already moving in together. He’d realized rather quickly that Barbara was the one for him, and living with her sounded absolutely perfect. His frat brothers called him crazy, and his parents seemed to fear he’d been bewitched, but James was in love with the dark-haired beauty currently placing three pillows on their new sofa.

“Are we done with the heavy stuff yet?” Patrick Ashcroft, who was the same age as James, stretched with a groan and heavily dropped onto the sofa—a move that caused his sister to put her hands on her hips and give him a look of reproach.

James couldn’t take his eyes off her, fascinated with the way she loomed over her brother like a fire-breathing dragon. Amused, he crossed his arms and studied his beloved and the perfect curve of her backside, while she descended on her brother.

“Patrick! This is our new couch! Could you please be a little more careful with it?”

Her black-haired brother rolled his eyes and stretched his legs nonchalantly. “Take it easy, Barbara. It’s just a couch.” When Patrick had shown up on their doorstep two days ago, James had quickly decided he was a pretty cool guy. But this pretty cool guy was about to be eviscerated by his sister.

“A couch that I don’t want to end up on the trash pile on its first day!”

“Cut out the drama,” Patrick said mildly, nodding at his sister. “Why don’t you get James and me a beer? We’ve been working our asses off here.”

Seeing that she was about to explode, James let out a snort of amusement and stepped toward his girlfriend to press a kiss to her temple. “I think I can find my way to the fridge without help,” he told Patrick, patting Barbara on the butt, because her backside was just too seductive in that tight skirt.

Frowning, she turned and murmured, “No need to get my lazy brother a beer, James.”

“I love you, too, little sister,” Patrick replied cheerfully, making himself more comfortable on the new couch. He stretched out both arms and rested them on the stiff back.

James ignored her objection and instead kissed the tip of her nose. “Hey, your brother’s our very first guest. We have to treat him like it.”

“Is this a pull-out couch, by any chance?” Patrick chimed in. “If it is, I’ll be your guest more often.” In fact, they’d all gone for pizza last night and ended the night in a sports bar, so James didn’t think his visits would be too terrible.

But Barbara sighed fervently. “Oh, God.”

James went to the kitchen and took two bottles of beer and one bottle of water from their newly well-stocked fridge. He opened the beers and returned to the living room, where Barbara was busy positioning several picture frames on a side table.

James handed his helper one of the bottles and sat in an armchair, which was one of the first items they’d brought in.

Patrick immediately took a sip and raised his bottle toward James. “Tell me, James, what causes a man to move in with my sister after such a short time?” he asked in an amicable manner.

Out of the corner of his eyes, James could see Barbara jerk toward them.

James returned the toast gesture good-naturedly. “Well, apart from the fact that we’ll both save on utilities,” he joked, “I have to admit that my fraternity house was a chaotic pigsty. So it was a great opportunity to get away from that …”

He laughed and ducked away from the decorative pillow Barbara tried to hit him with. He grabbed her and pulled her into his lap, wrapping an arm around her waist, unyielding, while trying not to spill the beer he was holding in his other hand.

“James thinks he’s funny, but he isn’t,” Barbara informed her brother before taking a sip from her water. She leaned back and snuggled into his lap.

“I’m actually pretty funny,” James protested. “You laugh at my jokes, don’t you?”

“When I’m feeling mentally deranged, or very, very tired.” Barbara sighed but then turned her head to press a kiss to his cheek.

James noticed that Patrick seemed rather amused by their interaction. “You guys are perfect for each other. Barbara will lord over the new apartment, while you continue to be not funny and save on electricity. I’m thrilled for you!”

Barbara snorted and leaned forward again. “For your information, Patrick, you can be a real pest sometimes.”

Her brother grinned. “I do what I can.”

James cleared his throat and stroked Barbara’s thigh gently. “I’m an only child, so I can’t tell whether you guys are joking or I should go hide all the kitchen knives.”

Barbara’s brother uttered a cheerful laugh. “This is completely harmless. You should hear us exchange blows when Stuart’s around as well. Stuart’s our little—”

“He knows who Stuart is,” Barbara cut him off. “James has met Mom and Dad, too.”

“Right.” Patrick raised his bottle to toast him again. “I almost forgot my mother has already decided you’re the perfect son-in-law. She never tires of telling me how you’re a paragon of charm, politeness, and manners.” He shook his head with disdain. “In the beginning, it was enough to make me think my sister had snagged a snotty-nosed prep boy.”

Unoffended, James patted Barbara’s hip. “I guess that’s what you get when you try to make a good impression on your girlfriend’s parents.”

“Don’t worry,” Patrick reassured him. “The moment I heard you cuss out the ref over that call in favor of the 49ers, I knew you were not a preppie.”

James chuckled. “That’s good to hear.”

Patrick stuffed the hem of his T-shirt back into his jeans and balanced his beer bottle between his knees. “You may not be a prep, but our mother thinks you’re a saint. She’ll probably drop by unexpectedly within the next week or so to inspect your new digs.”

“We’ll be in Virginia next week,” Barbara informed her brother, while absently stroking James’s knee.

“What are you doing in Virginia?”

For a brief moment, James pressed his mouth against the sensitive skin on Barbara’s neck, before facing Patrick again over her shoulder. “My grandparents are celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary.”

Patrick’s black eyebrows shot up. “You’re meeting his family?” he asked his sister. “So it’s that official?”

“We’re living together now,” Barbara said defensively, “and we’ve been together ten months. I think you should find a new topic, or I might be tempted to talk about your disastrous love life.”

“Disastrous?” James echoed. “Is this getting interesting?”

Barbara gave him a mischievous wink. “Patrick’s love life is disastrous because it is anything but interesting. I’d say Wall Street is more interesting.”

James grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “So who’s the preppie now?”

Patrick rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s etched into my forehead, I guess. I’m an irredeemable prep—what can I do? No woman wants to date me.”

Patrick Ashcroft might be a lot of things, but he certainly didn’t strike James as an upstart, a snob, or anything like that. Barbara’s brother came across as a smart guy who wasn’t above carrying moving boxes up three flights of stairs or sleeping on an air mattress. No, the son of one of the wealthiest men on the East Coast wasn’t your stereotypical prep school graduate.

Barbara giggled and shifted in James’s lap, seating herself across his thighs, so she could wrap her arms around his neck. “Don’t let him fool you! Patrick gets all manner of indecent proposals, but unfortunately, they’re less about him than his money.”

Beneath his black hair, Patrick’s green eyes were uncannily like his sister’s. Eyes sparkling with amusement, he shrugged. Apparently, he didn’t mind his sister telling James all about his love life. “Hey, that’s just an unfortunate side effect of having wealthy parents. I bet James has had similar experiences, haven’t you?”

Suddenly, James felt his girlfriend’s inquisitive gaze upon him. She cleared her throat. “Is that so, James?” she asked sweetly.

He grinned, put a hand on her hip, and kissed her on the temple. “I’d rather abstain from answering that,” he answered in the same cloying tone.

Barbara knit her brows. “But—”

“You heard the man, Barb,” Patrick interrupted good-naturedly. “I suggest you order some food for delivery now. We need fuel if we’re going to bring up the rest of your stuff.”

James saw that she was anything but satisfied with his non-answer. He gently rubbed her thigh and felt strangely elated at her obvious show of jealousy.

While Patrick got up with another groan and lumbered toward the hallway, James kept Barbara from slipping off his lap. Instead, he cupped her face with both hands and whispered amusedly, “You’re not really jealous, are you?”

The insecurity in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

James kissed her and whispered against her lips, “No need for that. There’s only one woman I would run away to clown college with.”

The corners of her delectable mouth quirked upward. “Never forget that,” she whispered back.

“Never,” he vowed with conviction.

“James!” Patrick interrupted the romantic moment. “Give me a hand here. You can feel up my sister later!”

 

 

 

***

 

 

With a swelling of pride in his chest, James watched Barbara sitting next to his grandfather on the antique backless couch his grandmother claimed once belonged to Marie Antoinette. It had a curved headrest, and James’s fabulous girlfriend looked exquisite on it. She was not only the most beautiful woman present tonight, she also seemed to be taking the entire Campbell family by storm.

His parents had monopolized her during the day, and now it was his grandparents’ turn. They were focused more on the young woman’s pixyish green eyes and generous smile than their own anniversary.

From the moment his parents had picked them up at the airport, James had been relegated to stage prop, as he’d registered with an amused shrug. Both his mom and dad had bent over backward to make Barbara feel welcome, seemingly haven fallen in love with their son’s girlfriend right away.

His mom had spent an eternity chatting about her European travels, and if he wasn’t completely mistaken, she was already planning a joint vacation to Norway, where his great-grandparents had been born.

His dad had discussed the War of Independence with Barbara, and she had probably won his heart by engaging with him on the topic. James’s old man was chairman for several historical societies, and he owned a private collection of eighteenth-century antiques and knickknacks, which Barbara had even been allowed to admire earlier today. That, in itself, was a small miracle, for James’s father was usually extremely particular about this treasure that was his greatest pride. The history buffs had even planned an excursion to some old mansion where Washington was rumored to have lost a tooth after biting down on a piece of rock-hard bread. James didn’t know what was so special about that particular event, which had taken place more than two hundred years ago, but he was delighted to see much enthusiasm his father used in welcoming Barbara into his sphere.

Then, James’s grandmother had engrossed Barbara in a conversation on fashion after Barbara had admired the old woman’s dress—nearly two hours ago. James had quietly stood by as the women launched into a comparison of different brands about which he knew exactly zilch. And then his grandmother had ordered him to “go get something to drink for the lovely child.”

And now Barbara was sitting with James’s grandfather in one corner of the grand living room, listening to old stories about his adventures in the Second World War with the patience of a saint and the most attentive face James could imagine.

Yes, his family was thrilled with his choice. Barbara was the perfect prospective daughter-in-law. She was not only extremely educated, pretty, smart, and polite, but also came from a family just as reputable and wealthy as his own. Although James honestly didn’t care whether Barbara’s father was a shoe salesman, a drag queen, or a successful businessman, he was very happy to see the genuine cordiality his girlfriend was receiving from his family.

“You should save Barbara, lest your grandpa scares her away.”

James glanced down at his mom, who was sipping on a glass of champagne, her eyes cast in the direction of the antique sofa, where Barbara was currently laughing about something his grandfather had said. But if you knew his grandpa, you also knew his stories weren’t just extremely lengthy and roundabout—they were rarely funny. Nevertheless, Barbara was apparently quite amused. And his grandfather, obviously having turned on the charm, was running a hand through his sparse hair.

James grinned and clinked glasses with his mom. “If Dad’s horribly boring stories about George Washington and his broken tooth didn’t scare her away, I doubt Grandpa can.”

“You sound more optimistic than I feel,” his mother confessed, linking arms with him.

He shrugged. “The woman’s crazy about me, Mom,” he replied jokingly, “so you don’t need to worry.”

Her disdainful snort told him what she thought about his comment. “No offense, James, but it’s rather obvious who’s crazy about whom here. You’ve been staring at her with such intensity you wouldn’t notice if the roof came down on your head.”

James made a face. “Thank you very much, Mom.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” She uttered a cheerful giggle. “I think it’s charming to see how deeply in love you are, and that you’re not reluctant to show it either.”

Since he didn’t want to discuss the depth of his feelings with his mother, he kept his mouth shut.

Instead, he continued to study Barbara with the kind of intensity his mother had just mentioned. His girlfriend was looking especially beautiful today. In deference to the occasion, she’d done up her hair in an elegant side knot and was wearing the pearl necklace she only wore for special occasions. She’d picked a sophisticated dress in a shimmering shade of green, which was just a tad lighter than her eyes. James had spent the entire evening looking at her; he couldn’t help himself. All he could think about was that he would be helping her take off that dress in a few more hours. Her outfit was completely decent—with no plunging neckline or appallingly short hemline—yet the mere sight of her made him break out in a sweat. His fingertips tingled at the sight of the tiny sash tied around her slim waist, which accentuated her delicate curves. Add to that her perfect, endless legs, and James had a hard time keeping his cool.

“Only a few minutes ago, your dad told me he’s very much taken with Barbara,” James’s mother said. “She’s a lovely girl.”

“Yes, she is,” he agreed, before sipping from his glass. “Why else would I be with her?”

“Your father and I would just like to know whether it’s serious.”

Suddenly, his tie was too tight around his throat. But instead of pulling at it and giving his feelings away, he stuck out his chin and explained coolly, “Barbara and I just moved in together, Mom. I think that should tell you enough.”

His mother’s sigh grated on his nerves. He didn’t want to discuss his relationship with her. “A lot of college students live with their girlfriends,” she said, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean—”

He interrupted his mom with a groan, turning to face her and giving her a bemused look. “If you’re trying to ask me whether Barbara and I are planning to run away to Vegas—”

“No need to get all sarcastic on me, James.”

“Mom.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Barbara is twenty, and I am twenty-one. Do you really expect us to bet thinking of marriage already?”

“No, of course not. But …”

“But what?” he prodded.

His mother gave him a weak smile. “Fact is that she comes from a good family, James. People from our social stratum expect you to clearly state your intentions.”

His mom really needed to cut down on the Jane Austen movies, he thought. “Mom …”

“Her father is Miles Hamilton Ashcroft, after all.”

He scowled at her. “I’m not in love with Barbara because her father’s name is Miles Hamilton Ashcroft,” he replied calmly. “I couldn’t care less who her father is, and she couldn’t care less who my father is.”

“I know that.” His mom patted his arm. “You two make a lovely couple, James. All I’m saying is your father thinks her father might expect you to state your serious intentions regarding his only daughter.”

James could no longer suppress the urge to roll his eyes. He handed his champagne glass to his mother. “My serious intentions?” He took a deep breath. “You can let Dad know he can lay his worries to rest. Tell him Barbara’s dad and I get along splendidly, and so far, he hasn’t demanded any declaration of intent from me.”

His mother’s nervous giggle invaded his ear as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll do my best to explain it to him, but I can’t guarantee he’ll understand.”

“Wonderful,” James muttered and left his mother standing there. He headed for the sofa to rescue Barbara.

“James, my boy, what do you want?” Edwin Campbell waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t interrupt us now; I’m telling your girl about meeting Sammy Davis, Jr., in Las Vegas in the Sixties and playing cards with the man!” His grandfather gave him a calculating look. “Do you know the story?”

“I believe I’ve heard it once or twice before, yes, Grandpa,” James replied dryly.

Barbara looked up at him, beaming. “Your grandfather’s a great storyteller. Now I finally know where you got your charm, James.”

He felt an urge to make a face, but instead he merely raised one eyebrow and gave his grandfather a prompting look. “Grandpa, don’t you think you should pay a little more attention to your own sweetheart tonight, instead of monopolizing mine?”

“Ha!” The older man wrinkled his nose. “I’ve spent most of my time with your grandmother for fifty years. I don’t think it’s a problem if I spend five minutes chatting with your girlfriend tonight.”

James gave him a meaningful look. “I’m sure it’s been a lot longer than that.”

His grandpa grumbled and rolled his eyes. “Young people today lack patience.”

“Young people today simply don’t want Grandma to file for divorce twenty-four hours after your fiftieth anniversary,” James countered. “Do me a favor and give her a little of your time and attention.”

“You just want to be alone with your pretty girl,” the older man interjected shrewdly.

“That, too,” James admitted.

His grandfather, straight-backed and still a good walker despite his almost eighty years, bent over Barbara’s hand to kiss it. “It was a great pleasure, my dear. The next time you and James come to Virginia, you’ll have to pay us a visit so we can continue our little chat.”

“That would be my pleasure, Mr. Campbell.”

“Please call me Edwin, my dear,” the old man replied, patting Barbara’s hand. James remembered his mother telling him that his grandfather had only asked her to call him Edwin on the day she’d married his son.

Barbara beamed. “Of course, Edwin.”

James was still baffled when he sat down next to her a few seconds later. “Did my grandfather really just ask you to call him by his first name?”

She smiled and put a hand on his elbow. “He’s so nice.”

“He’s also so pushy,” James qualified, tilting his head to look into her face.

“No, he’s not,” Barbara protested good-naturedly. “Plus, I find his stories incredibly entertaining.”

“You’re definitely the first person to think that,” he murmured. Then he simply had to bump her nose with his own.

Barbara nestled against him and heaved a heartfelt sigh as she pointed at his grandparents, who were smiling at each other in the opposite corner of the room. The older couple proceeded to join hands.

“Will you look at that,” Barbara murmured softly. “Your grandparents have been married for fifty years, and they still hold hands. What could be more romantic than that?”

James didn’t mention that he’d seen his grandpa wink at a twenty-year-old waitress, or that his grandma had vowed she’d shoot her husband if he left the toilet seat up one more time. Instead, James put an arm around his girlfriend.

“I actually thought you’d see running away to clown college as the epitome of romance.”

She snorted and shook her head. “No, that right there is a romance,” she explained soberly. “After fifty years of marriage, I hope I still want to hold hands with my husband, too, even if he’s always telling everyone the same old stories about Sammy Davis, Jr. …” Barbara gave him a sidelong glance. “Or if he’s always whipping out the same lame joke about clown college.”

James remained silent, but he couldn’t help feeling damn happy.