“I still don’t understand the change in attitude. Not six months ago you said having Emily as a matchmaker is like asking an arsonist to house-sit. She’s broken more engagements than her nails. Are you listening to me?”
“At least she had the right idea. She left them.” She should have left one more. Why did a woman who made her society debut at Le Bal Crillon marry a low-life like Parker Davis?
“Liz, how is it really going with Nick?”
“Fine.” Elizabeth continued to stare out into the crowd. “He’s kind and attentive. He takes me to dinner and sends me flowers. We discuss matters of business because we share common interests. Is there something wrong with a serious, focused man? He’s a grown-up.”
Karen was silent for a moment. When she spoke her voice sounded hurt. “Robert’s a grown-up. You don’t have to be in business to be a grown-up.”
Elizabeth turned to Karen. “Of course not. I didn’t mean it that way. Robert is a brilliant writer and so are you. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy with the job and these dinners with Emily and Parker. That doesn’t change us or our friendship. But this relationship with Nick is what I want now.”
“Sometimes I think I made a mistake convincing you to come to New York. You had a life in California.”
Elizabeth turned to give her friend a sharp look. “What life?”
“A life as a painter.”
“I was a painter. I’m not anymore. Are we going to go through this again?”
“Liz, you can’t keep punishing yourself for what your mother did. She hurt herself. You didn’t hurt her.”
“Really? Didn’t I?”
Karen leaned forward, her voice low. “I was there, remember? She knew exactly what William was doing.”
Elizabeth made a face. “What William was doing—what I was doing. There were two of us.”
“She did everything she could to destroy you, Liz. I just feel like you keep moving further away from who you are.”
“Ancient history,” Elizabeth snapped. “Nick isn’t the past. He’s the present and the future. My future. I’m with him because he’s the right one for me.”
Elizabeth returned to watching the bar, her signal that the subject was closed. Guests moved in and out of her line of vision and then a pocket would open, revealing a glimpse of Ian MacKay.
Ian sucked in a deep breath, trying for patience, his empty stomach complaining bitterly while Parker’s rambling gnawed on his last nerve.
“Let me tell you, gents, I walk into a room with this woman and every man wants what I have. Beautiful, built.” He elbowed Ian. “And the family fortune doesn’t hurt either. Now I’ve got the money and the girl, and it’s all legal. I can’t believe how happy I am,” he said with a hearty laugh, giving Ian another robust slap on the back.
Ian raised his hand, attempting to signal the bartender. He reminded himself that artists of small reputation could not afford to tell their client’s husband to piss off and lose any referrals that might come their way. He kept his mouth shut and smiled.
Parker gripped his shoulder. “You need to get married, my friend.”
Wanker. What I need is a scotch and a smoke.
“Now I realize how empty my life has been,” Parker continued.
“That’s not what I heard.”
At the sound of the soft, even voice, the men turned to see Elizabeth sliding onto the empty stool next to Ian.
“I heard your business lunches at the Plaza Hotel were quite full and satisfying,” she said.
Chuckling, Parker wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her to him. “Listen, cookie, I’m a changed man! You’re just jealous because you passed on your opportunity.”
“I yielded to the better woman,” she said.
Parker cackled. “You don’t know what you missed, babe, on so many levels.”
The lights threw colorful shadows across the planes of Elizabeth’s face. Ian felt a rush of blood surge within him and had a fleeting thought of Hemingway’s Lady Brett Ashley draped on a bar stool in a café in Spain, waiting for her bullfighter to return. She could be Lady Ashley, she looks unhappy enough.
A passing guest caught Parker’s attention. Stepping away from the group, he pointed at Ian. “You should see this guy’s stuff, Liz, it’s not half-bad. The resale value sucks but maybe he has something for your office.”
“My office is decorated.”
“Something for your flat?” Ian said.
“My apartment has everything in it I need.”
“Pity,” Ian said. He glanced over to Robert; he had retreated to a stool, a silent observer.
“Are you enjoying the wedding?”
“Brilliant party,” he said. “You don’t seem pleased. Don’t you fancy weddings, Lizzie?”
“Elizabeth,” she corrected. “Weddings are fine but they have nothing to do with marriage.”
He edged closer. There it is, he thought, catching her scent, a warm, drowsy duet of delicate flowers with a hint of vanilla. “Don’t they? I believe you need one to have the other.”
“You do, but all of this”—she waved her hand—“is not included.”
“But you’re not married, Lizzie. How do you know this?”
“Elizabeth. Because the principle of any successful endeavor is work.” She leaned back, revealing a little self-satisfied smile. “Marriage is not a four-tiered vanilla cake and a garter.”
“It’s not?” Robert interjected. “Karen has some explaining to do.”
Ian smirked in spite of Elizabeth’s sour look. “Perhaps you’re right. Why marry at all? Two people can simply enjoy each other’s company without complications.”
Elizabeth laughed. “In the colonies, we call that a one-night stand.”
Ian smiled. “You Americans, always in a hurry.”
“You Europeans and your lovers, always chasing after romance.”
“Very well then, I concede. Marriage is not romance. What is it then, Lizzie?” Ian asked. “Portfolios and property, profit and loss?”
Elizabeth slid off the stool. “Not just that. Respect, understanding, and yes, hard work, to build a solid financial future.”
Ian laughed but the sound came out hollow. “Everything but your heart. Isn’t that right, love?”
Elizabeth paled and Ian looked away, tossing back the rest of his drink. Brilliant, you stupid git. He scrambled for something soothing to say as a tall, clean-cut man approached. His dark hair was salted with gray; his stride, easy and confident. Ian judged him to be in his late forties.
“Am I interrupting?” he said.
“Not at all,” Elizabeth said, her eyes still locked on Ian. “We’re finished.”
Nick slid his arm around her. “Gentlemen, excuse us,” he said to no one in particular as he led her away.
Elizabeth’s soft laugh floated back to Ian and he felt a knot forming in his stomach as he watched Nick and Elizabeth disappear from sight, lost in the crowd.
Ian cursed under his breath.
Robert gave his shoulder a friendly