Chapter Eight
Madison
There was only one way it could go when my mother found out about my broken engagement.
Badly.
No point sugar-coating the fact.
I sat in the back of the cab on the way to my mother’s home, bile burning my throat. Of all the things that had happened since finding out about Logan’s infidelity, anticipating my mother’s reaction to the whole fiasco would be the worst. Patricia St. James had worked hard to secure me a good marriage. A good name. Good breeding. To my mother, it meant everything.
It had been this way since I was four, from the moment Patricia had recognized my beauty was something that could be used to her advantage. She’d worked me hard, taught me how to trot out phony speeches on saving the earth, feeding the hungry, making the world a better place. I could tap dance, belt out the national anthem, all while strutting in front of a crowd wearing a skimpy bikini.
But could I keep one lousy fiancé?
No.
And that, Patricia would find impossible to get past. Going back to the poverty we’d crawled out of was the one thing that terrified my mother. Losing my mother to the person she’d been back then was something I didn’t want to revisit either.
I flapped my hands in front of my face, the burn in my muscles a comforting reminder of last night’s activity. A smile nipped at my lips as I recalled just how my legs had been twined around various parts of Cole. His hips, his shoulders, his wicked mouth…
I shifted in my seat. This wasn’t the time to remember things I could not have.
I took a breath, employing the same technique I’d used as a kid when I’d suffered crippling bouts of stage fright. My mother had taught me all the tricks to reach a state of inner calm…
Count backwards from ten, a touch to make sure your hair is flawless, eyes wide aaannnndddddd…smile.
I worked through the routine twice until a measure of composure settled over me. I knew it had worked when the driver glanced in the rear vision mirror and offered a smile.
“You look happy, Miss. Going home?”
I inclined my head gracefully, stretching my smile out further. “Why, thank you. Yes. I am visiting my mother and stepfather.” I intoned with impeccable politeness.
His eyes crinkled appreciably. “Well, I’m sure they’ll be very pleased to see you.”
I kept the smile on my face, even as my stomach lurched sideways. The sick feeling magnified when the St. James mansion rose majestically from its grove of Princeton elms. I dug in my bag for my compact to check my reflection one last time.
Lipstick.
Perfect outline and bow.
Eyebrows.
High arch, faultlessly smoothed.
Skin.
I twisted the mirror left and right, up and down, rechecking twice for shiny spots before settling back in my seat.
Prior to last night, I had been prepared to let my mother talk me into going back to Logan. Prepared to talk myself into believing he wasn’t so bad. But after the honesty I‘d faced in myself with Cole, I wasn’t sure I could do the right thing anymore.
The band encasing my chest clenched a little tighter as the cab pulled to a stop in front of the house. One more touch of my hair and I stepped from the car, smoothing out the creases in my cream, linen trousers.
The latest in a long line of housekeepers came to the door to greet me. “Your mother is expecting you in the morning room.”
I nodded and sucked in my breath.
Time for the show.
Lunch was true Patricia St. James style. A bowl of exotic salad leaves, topped with shavings of lean chicken breast and buttons of blue cheese. Mother knew I hated blue cheese. Yet she persisted in serving it, hoping to break my palate from nasty, nasty habits—feed me mac and cheese any day.
I sacrificed my last sliver of chicken to hide the cheese, then lay my salad fork carefully across the plate to indicate I’d finished.
My stomach protested with a low grumble.
“Really Madison. Must you?” Mother shot a pained look across the table. Then her eyes arrowed in on my hand. “Where is your engagement ring?” She nodded toward my bare fingers. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost it!”
The ring. The chicken rebelled in my stomach and I fought against the urge to throw up. Did I tell her? Now? I threw a glance at her. No. I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Not without barfing all over the table. And that would never do…
“Oh, no.” I caught hold of my composure and let out a high, tinkling laugh. “It’s in my bag.” I made a show of picking up my clutch and claiming the ring from the side pocket. “It catches…on things, so I took it off.”
“Well, put it on for goodness sake,” Mother snapped. “Everybody needs to see you’re engaged to Logan. Otherwise tongues will start wagging.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
I slipped the jumbo-sized diamond back on my finger, barely holding back my repugnance at the sight of it. Glitzy. Pretentious. And apparently the only real thing of my engagement to Logan.
My mother continued to delicately nibble at her salad. I watched with morbid fascination as each morsel was pierced with her fork and disappeared between perfectly coral-coated lips to be chewed twenty times before swallowing.
Another belly-gurgle erupted from me. Patricia frowned and I pressed my hand to my stomach. I cleared my throat.
“Really, you must tell Rosa the chicken was fantastic. I could have eaten it twice.” I threw out a not so subtle hint. After missing breakfast, a few lettuce leaves weren’t going to do it.
My mother glanced up sharply, then carefully placed her fork beside my dish. “Surely not, Madison. You haven’t finished what is on your plate.” She looked purposefully at the remains of my chicken. Of course, Patricia knew exactly where the blue cheese hid. “Besides, you need to be careful with your figure.” My mother picked up her fork to resume eating. “Filling up with protein will stretch your stomach. You want to be in shape for the wedding. What would Logan think?”
What indeed.
I squeezed one hand tightly in the other, working hard to pull up a conciliatory smile. “You’re right,” I agreed finally. No point provoking Mother by revealing how little Logan did think of me. And fidelity.
It took her another ten agonizing minutes to finish the last few lettuce leaves on her plate. By which time, I held my stomach so tight I thought I might bust a rib.
“Let’s adjoin to the conservatory, shall we?” My mother laid down her cutlery and dabbed at her lips. “I can tell you how your wedding plans are progressing.”
I hid my grimace and followed her down the passageway to the glassed-in area at the rear of the mansion. Exotic potted plants showered the room in an explosion of green, white wicker furniture strategically placed between waxen-leaved palms with white, buttery flowers, Hawaiian Naupaka. The air was scented. A sweet floral fragrance, overlaid with hints of rich earth and sunshine.
This room had always been one of my favorites. I took a deep breath and drew on the peaceful surroundings to soothe my nerves. It didn’t help.
My mother fussed with the tea set while I perched on the edge of the chair opposite. Some women were born to be wealthy and while Patricia St. James hadn’t been bred into prosperity, the role fit her perfectly. It was a long way from Patty Harrison, the single-mother living in a run-down trailer in Minot.
My mother had used my success on the pageant circuit to ruthless perfection, netting two husbands in quick succession, until finally settling on self-made millionaire, Robert St. James. Using Robert’s connections, Patricia had risen up the social ladder. By the time I was of a marrying age, her attention had turned to husband hunting. Logan had turned out to be the perfect specimen for my mother’s manipulations. A well-heeled name, good family connections and a predilection for spending money faster than his father could earn it.
Patricia had him over a barrel.
“I have invited the wedding planner to join us shortly.” She sat back in her chair. “I will confirm the guests and start on the seating arrangements.”
“Uh-huh.”
I had become momentarily side-tracked by the plate of tiny petit fours. An internal debate raged as to whether I was actually allowed to eat one, or if they were just for show for the wedding planner.
Only one way to find out.
I gingerly slid one off the plate and popped it into my mouth. Whole.
My mother frowned. “I did see that,” she warned. “Anyway, as I was saying, it will take considerable effort to coordinate the seating for the wedding, but obviously the Senator will sit at our table. If I start from there and work my way back… Madison! Are you even listening? This is your wedding.”
Startled, I sucked in air, holding my fingers to my lips as the sweet biscuit stuck to the roof of my mouth.
My wedding.
Reality hit and I couldn’t hold back any longer.
“The wedding…it’s over.” The words rushed out before I could stop them. I cringed, waiting for the sky to fall.
“Don’t be ridiculous, dear.” My mother barely batted an eyelid. “Now please. The Parkers are sure to want to sit near the Newboroughs. I believe their daughter, Melanie, has come of age and we all know what a catch Nicholas would be for that family.”
I closed my gaping mouth. “Mother.” I tried again. “I’m being serious. The engagement is off. I’m not marrying Logan.”
A frown formed between my mother’s perfectly plucked brows. After a tense moment of appraisal, she carefully set her cup down on the table and blew out a breath.
“You can’t be serious,” she spluttered. “After all of the trouble I’ve gone to…sacrificing my life for you.” Mother got to her feet, one coral-tipped fingernail pointing across the coffee table. “What did you do?” Her voice rose as her composure slipped. “Why the hell does Logan want to end it?”
And there it was. Of course, it had to be my fault. I pressed back into the chair under the weight of her accusations. Logan came from a well-bred family. He knew how to play the game. To my mother he was a named fiancé who held the key to blue-blood doors in exchange for a healthy, monthly allowance. My allowance. Why would he give up the money she paid straight into his pocket each month? Surely it had to be something I had done to make him break it off.
Except it had been Logan who had broken the rules. He’d cheated. And the only reason I was forced to tell my mother was because by the end of the month I’d be broke—because Logan had all of my freakin’ money.
I took in the pinch of my mother’s lips, praying for her to experience just one small spark of maternal instinct. She loved me, I never questioned that, but the fear of losing everything, of being forced back to the trailer park, sometimes drove her to lose perspective.
“He cheated on me.” My voice broke and I could barely meet Patricia’s eyes. I needed her.
“So?” Her stiff expression didn’t soften.
“I called it off,” I said, raising my chin.
My mother forgot about etiquette and slumped inelegantly into her chair. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Closed her eyes. Thinking.
“We can fix this.” Swinging to her feet, she paced back and forth. “First, you apologize. Tell Logan it was a case of womanly histrionics. Pre-wedding nerves.” She pinned me with a firm look. “You haven’t told anyone else, have you? Thank God.” Her breath rushed out as I shook my head. “At least you’re not totally stupid.”
My heart sank and I gave up any hope of maternal sympathy stirring. “I don’t want to apologize,” I insisted. “He slept with another woman.”
“I don’t think you understand, Madison.” Patricia’s voice sharpened. “We’re not going to do any better than Logan.”
“Better than…” my voice trailed off as I was swamped by helplessness. Climbing the social ladder wasn’t the total sum of my existence anymore. Last night with Cole I’d ignored social status and the number of zeroes attached to a bank account, all of the things that’d seemed important, up until now.
I looked at the ludicrous engagement ring dominating my finger. Last night had shown me happiness wasn’t going to come from a marriage built on lies.
“I will do better,” I said quietly. “Because I’ll be doing what’s right for me.”
My mother stopped her frantic pacing, anguish whitening her cheekbones. “What have I done to deserve this?” She sank to her knees in front of me, holding her head in her hands. “Everything I’ve done for you. Pulling us out of that horrible, dead-end town. Leaving all of my family behind. For you.” Her expression was bleak. Pained. She dissolved into tears, shoulders shaking.
“Please, Mom. Don’t cry.” I shifted so I could wrap my arms around her shoulders, guilt pricking at my chest. I wished I could go back and change what had happened. I did.
“I don’t know where I went wrong.” She was beyond listening. “I’ve taken care of you, haven’t I? You don’t need to work?” She raised a tear-streaked face. “Why do you think we pay Logan your allowance? So you don’t have to worry about managing money. A beautiful woman like you.” My mother laid a trembling hand against my cheek. “I’ve taken care of everything. For you.”
I closed my eyes against the truth that only told half of the story. If only I could believe my mother’s words as much as my mother believed them. But there was more to Logan getting my money. He had a name for living outside of his means…that was what had attracted my mother’s attention in the first place. It had all been part of her plan.
“Why don’t you give me a chance to show you what I can do?” I pressed. “Maybe I can go back to school. I could get a job and work my way up. Just like you did.” After all, I was proud of my mother rising from nothing, to become patron of no less than six different charities.
“You’re nothing like me.” Patricia let out a brittle laugh. She climbed to her feet. “You don’t have what it takes to be like me. No. What’s best for you is to go back to Logan,” she said firmly. “I’m sorry, but I’m not changing any arrangements, financial or other. He will continue to get your allowance until you go back to him.”
My jaw dropped. “What? You’re going to keep paying the man who cheated on me?”
Patricia’s expression softened and for a moment there was a glimpse of compassion, before her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Grow up, Madison. We all have to make sacrifices and I’ve made more than my share for you. It’s your turn.”
“But I—”
“We are this close to having everything we’ve worked for.” My mother scowled, color mottling her perfect mask. “I’ll take care of the wedding planner. You go home and make this right. Get even. Get revenge. Have a string of lovers if that’s what it takes, but do not wreck this chance, because you won’t get another.”
I shook my head and left while I still could. Mother was wrong.
I deserved happiness and last night with Cole had proved that.