“Are you sure you need me?” he asked. “Because Jorie and I—”
“Make it ten if you can,” his dad said, and then he hung up.
Good old Dad. Whenever the tension went up, his carefully cultivated interpersonal skills went out the window, and he turned into the predator Nolan Murphy, driven, focused, ruthless when necessary. If he weren’t so brilliant, Cooper thought, it would be easy to dislike the guy. As it was, if his dad said jump, Cooper asked how high and never stopped to question why jumping was required.
CHAPTER TWO
ALICE PUSHED OPEN THE door to the tasting room. “Did Cooper leave?”
“He liked the red velvet,” Jorie said. She thought she’d done a good job of sounding exactly like a bride-to-be after a satisfactory cake tasting, but when Alice came all the way into the room and crouched down next to the table, she knew she’d failed.
“What happened?”
“He didn’t think he was going to like it.” Jorie used two fingers to slide the silver tray away from her. The uneaten cakes were making her nauseous and she thought vomiting in Alice’s tasting room might be bad for their friendship. “Whoever named it should have done better market research because that sucker is a tough sell. Velvet is fuzzy, you know?”
Alice didn’t respond.
“He called off the engagement.”
Saying it out loud made it real. Alice sat back on her heels, apparently at a loss for words. She was only the first, Jorie realized. Everyone she told would look at her with exactly the same shock mixed with pity. She’d have to notify the caterers and the hotel. She’d need to call the priest and cancel the church, but first, she’d have to call the Wish Team. They’d pulled strings to get the National Cathedral. That call would be the cap on the dissolution of her life. Once the wedding was canceled, this whole dream would be down the drain. She’d be her mother, trying to cobble some new life together after she’d lost her latest man. There was no way she’d be able to pull her business back from the brink after this. Who would hire the wedding planner who couldn’t even drag her own man to the altar?
No.
She wasn’t going to watch her life fall apart. She regretted saying anything to Alice.
“I don’t think he meant it, though,” she said quickly. “He said he was working on the vows. It could have been cold feet.”
“Tell me what he said.”
The door to the bakery opened and the college boy who was working the register stuck his head into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, Alice, but there’s a woman here who says she ordered five dozen coconut cupcakes and the only ones in the cooler are strawberry cheesecake.”
“They’re on the top shelf, already boxed. Find them. I’m with a bride.”
“Not exactly,” Jorie muttered.
The door closed again and Alice pulled the empty chair around and sat down, facing Jorie. “I want to hear what happened.”
“You have customers.”
“They can wait. Tell me.”
“He said he can’t marry me,” Jorie whispered. She should get up and leave before she embarrassed herself any more, but she didn’t.
The door swung open again. “Alice, what’s the register code for the apple pie?”
“Pies are free for the next fifteen minutes. Tell the customers it’s a cooked fruit freebie frenzy.” Alice narrowed her eyes at her assistant. “Also, Eliot? You go to Georgetown. You can manage the bakery by yourself for five minutes. It’s straightforward. Take in dollars. Hand over carbohydrates.”
Eliot retreated.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Alice said.
“You know what? I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not the easiest person to love. I’m private and prickly and I’ve never been good at relationships.” Jorie paused. She could hear her voice rising and she really didn’t want to lose control. She and Alice were friends, but not the kind who bared their souls—it was bad enough she couldn’t seem to stop talking. “But I thought Cooper knew me. I thought he was okay with me.”
Alice put her hands on Jorie’s shoulders. “I’ll give you private, but I don’t see prickly. Whatever Cooper’s problem is, it’s not you.”
Jorie looked down at the table.
“Right?” Alice prompted.
“Sure.” Jorie sighed. “Do you think we’ll have to give the Wish Registry gifts back?” When she and Cooper had agreed they didn’t want gifts for their wedding, her mom had been disappointed that she wouldn’t get to help Jorie fill out the registry. It had been Chelsea’s inspiration, so typical of her generous spirit, that had led to the Wish Registry. It included everything from music lessons to sports tickets to trips and video game systems—a list of wishes the foundation had matched with recipients. Her mom had insisted that they wrap each item, even if it was only a gift certificate or trip itinerary, so the recipient would have something tangible. “My mom loved that stupid registry so much.”
“And you love Cooper, right?” Alice asked gently. “You were marrying him because you love him, not for your mom, right?”
“How could I not love Cooper?” she asked.
Alice let that go. “Are you too prickly for a hug?” Any other day Jorie would have felt like an idiot for being so publicly distressed, but today seemed to be a day of firsts. When Alice pulled her in and hugged her, she closed her eyes and leaned into the contact. She did love Cooper. Or she would have loved Cooper once they were married. She was quite sure she had the right feelings about him. She liked his company. They had good talks. She liked the way he looked. They were great in bed. She’d talked to enough couples to know that she wasn’t exactly passionately in love, but she was close. If only she had a little more time.
COOPER TOOK THE FRONT steps to the Georgetown row house he’d grown up in two at a time. On the way there, he’d imagined about fifty really bad reasons his dad wanted to meet him at home in the middle of the day. It was probably politics, but Cooper, who spent his life writing inspiring speeches, had a very good imagination.
His mom opened the door when he knocked, and because she’d been on his list of possible casualties, he gave her a hug in addition to his usual kiss on the cheek. His dad had told him she was fine, but his dad had lied to him before. Of course, Nolan Murphy would call it keeping him on a need-to-know basis. His dad’s standards were far from black and white when it came to the truth.
“Good to see you, Mom,” he said. “You look great.” She did, too. Rachel Murphy was tall, blonde and fit. She also had one of the best policy minds on the East Coast. She played up her feminine side with color and flowing fabrics and bold jewelry. She said her décolletage had bamboozled more senators into more deals than half the lobbying firms in the city. When he patted her shoulder, he was relieved to feel the familiar taut muscles earned from a lifetime of tennis. “Nice and healthy.”
Rachel hugged him back and then straightened, one hand still on his forearm. “Your dad didn’t fill you in on what’s going on, did he? He let you worry?”
He nodded.
“I’m telling you, Cooper. That man knows better than to torment you. The short answer is, it’s your brother. Bailey has gotten himself into a serious mess and I don’t see a way out for him this time. Your dad and Theo are still working out the angles, but I think it’s going to mean resignation—your dad just hasn’t come to grips with that yet.”
“Resignation” sent a jolt through him. A Murphy was going to resign from his Senate seat? What the hell could Bailey have done? His mom and dad lived and