Epilogue

Lillie

I took Papa’s arm as we walked down the aisle, baskets of flowers so abundant standing alongside, that it felt like we were in a garden. I could see Mama, her face beaming with pride as she awaited him. When he went to stand by her side, I went to stand with my husband-to-be. The pews were filled with old neighbors and customers, as well as employees and business associates of Chris. On his side of the aisle sat the three people who would now be my family; Corey, Daphne and rosy-cheeked Marga. She could hardly sit still and had already folded her legs beneath her as she raised up to get a better look.

I’d asked Daphne to be my matron of honor, but she suggested she’d rather sit with her husband and wanted my wedding day to represent me and my happiness—not the sadness behind how we’d come to meet. I asked my old college roommate, Patsy, to do the honor and she couldn’t accept fast enough. She knew who Chris was by reputation and being maid of honor at his wedding was a golden pass to wink at some of the world’s richest eligible bachelors. I knew her motives, and was fine with it. I had my man.

The jet whisked us back to Paris, to the hotel where we’d stayed over Christmas. This time it was just the two of us. We spent the days strolling the cobblestone streets, eating and drinking the finest wines. We spent the nights in one another’s arms. Chris introduced me to the eroticism of restraint—not the chains kind, but the kind where you drive the other’s anticipation to unbelievable heights before allowing their release. We understood this for the power play it was. After all, we were partners in life and in business now.

We moved into Chris’ house on the lake. I knew he had one, but hadn’t ever pictured him anywhere but in his Chicago apartment, which we kept. The house sat on the bluff overlooking the lake and a flight of nearly a hundred steps wound their way through the beach grasses down to the water’s edge. The house was ultra modern, featuring floor to ceiling windows on three sides. There were few places inside that didn’t offer some vantage of the water.

Chris insisted we maintain a staff and I loved the idea. I wanted to throw all my energy into the new Flemming & Tolliver Shoppes. Three days every week we drove into town and worked, staying at the apartment at night. The other four days we made love, played and planned at the lake house.

In March we learned we were to have twins. The ultra-sound announced the news to two shocked faces—ours. As I grew heavier with their weight, my work schedule lightened, and I began doing much of what I was contributing from home.

On the twenty-eighth of August, I awakened to a gentle cramping sensation in my lower back. I lay there, cognizant of what was going on but wanting to revel in the last few minutes of being just Lillie and Chris. He was snoring gently beside me and as the aching progressed into pronounced cramps that made me catch my breath, I reached over and shook his shoulder. “Not to be hokey, or anything, but honey, it’s time.”

He didn’t move for a long minute, fading gradually into awareness of not only the sun, but my words. He jerked upright. “Shit! Really? This is it?”

I nodded and smiled, as though I was perfectly calm and had rehearsed it a hundred times. In fact, I felt as scared and sick as I had boarding the jet for the first time. I think Chris could see it on my face because he instantly relaxed his shoulders and put his arm around me.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I stated abruptly.

“About what?” he inquired casually, assuming I meant a fabric for the shoppe chairs or an ingredient for the chocolate frosting.

“Childbirth. I don’t want to do this. I’m afraid, Chris.”

He began to laugh, actually more of a roar, so loudly that Petula, our housekeeper tapped on the door and came in to see what was going on.

“It’s not funny, Chris! You aren’t in my shoes!”

“Oh, sweetheart, it is funny. I wish you could see the look on your face. I’m afraid it’s a little too late for second thoughts. The deed is done, as they say. C’mon, let me help you get up and get dressed. Petula, call Dr. Smithers and let him know we’re headed to the hospital. How far apart are the contractions, Lillie?”

I shrugged. “I thought it was your job to time them. They just hurt, bad and all the time.”

“Well, then we’d better get rolling. Off with you, Petula. Call the car around to the front and we’ll be down momentarily. Here, take the overnight bag,” he handed her the LV bag I kept packed in the closet.

I sat up with Chris’ help and when my feet hit the floor, so did a stream of amniotic fluid. “Chris! My water broke!”

“You always were one hot, juicy babe,” he joked, but I could see a tenseness in his face that told me we’d better hurry. Thank god we’d elected to use the local hospital rather than drive into the city.

Over the next forty-five minutes I forgot I was a lady. I called the doctors, nurses and even Chris, names that would make a whore blush. It was too late for an epidural, so I had to do it the natural way. The doctor seemed to think I was fine for a vaginal delivery and indeed, when Mark and Sybil emerged, they were practically holding hands. As for me, I was overjoyed it was over. I held one baby in each arm and beamed as Chris began handing out candy cigars.

Corey and family drove up for visiting hours and the next day, we were all up to going home. Daphne and Marga stayed on for another day to help me until Mama and Papa could come up on the jet Chris sent for them.

Six months later, the first Lemming & Tolliver Shoppe opened on the site of the original Lemming’s Bakery. It was standing room only and the line wrapped around the block. I spied Mr. Fischer cruising the block three time, gawking at the spectacle. We’d brought in outdoor café seating for the opening and Chris had hired a quartet to play Mozart and Brahms while wearing formal tuxedos, sitting next to a fountain beneath the heated canopy annex in the midst of a Chicago blizzard. It seemed fitting and reminded me of the day Chris and I had first met and the storm that had brought us together all that night.

Steve and Marjorie Perkins had been extradited and Chris had it on confidence that they’d entered the witness protection program after testifying against certain very powerful men in the city. He told me soberly that it was unlikely the program could protect the pair, as they were infamous for their ability to get to almost anyone.

When the twins were old enough to travel, we took them back to Europe and returned every year to a new city. We gathered ideas, ambiance, furnishings and memories for our family. We made it a point to always spend Christmas in Germany. It had been my favorite. Mama and Papa accompanied us one year and I could see that Mama was determined to get Papa to move there. I hoped they wouldn’t; but then there was always the jet.

I hated that jet, although I never let on to Chris. I just drank the ginger ale and waited for him in the stateroom while the nanny kept the twins busy. Chris and I had always been at our best in the bed. After all, that’s how we turned the naughty, to nice.

Dear Reader, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

THANK YOU so much for reading my book! Don’t stop now, the fun is not over yet! As a special gift, I’ve included another X-MAS billionaire novel!

It’s called “The X-Mas Wonder!” – Happy reading!