Bernie asked Carlos to drive her to a nearby drugstore so she could pick up a few things, but she’d underestimated how dumb she’d feel taking a limousine to Walgreens. As soon as they drove into the parking lot, people’s heads turned, and a few even stopped to watch her get out of the car. All she could do was ignore their curious stares and walk inside as if she traveled in luxury every day of the week.
She headed toward the aisles to grab shampoo and razor blades. On the way there, she passed a display of perfume. There wasn’t anything much more girly than perfume, and any other time she might have walked right by it. But this time, for some reason, she slowed down, then stopped, letting her gaze travel from one bottle to another.
Some of them were shiny and sparkly. Some were curvy and pink with flowers all over them. They all had names that were either in French, and therefore unpronounceable, or something like Beautiful or Lovely or Radiance.
Dumb, she thought. Not my thing.
But for some reason, she glanced over her shoulder to see if anybody else was around, and when she saw she was alone, she tentatively picked up one of the tester bottles. She sniffed the squirter thingy and just about gagged. It was if she’d fallen face-first into a Rose Bowl Parade float.
She tried a few more. Same story.
Then she saw one that said something about sandalwood and jasmine, the scents of the Orient. She sniffed it. Okay, this one had promise. Low-key. Mysterious. Nonflowery.
She checked the area again for witnesses. When she didn’t see any, she held out her wrist. Pushed the plunger.
Nothing came out.
She tried again, harder this time.
Still nothing.
She pushed it one more time, harder still, and the bottle suddenly spewed approximately half a gallon of perfume onto her wrist. Horrified, she set the bottle down and held her wrist out, shaking it, but all that did was make a few droplets fall from her arm to the floor, and her wrist was still wet with perfume. She rubbed her wrists together, hoping if she spread it around a little, it would dissipate faster, then brought her wrists to her nose.
Oh, God. She smelled like a Hong Kong whorehouse.
Without thinking, she wiped her wrists on her jeans, only to realize that it wouldn’t obliterate the scent. It would just move it to another part of her body.
Abandoning the perfume display, she hurried to grab the shampoo and razor blades she’d needed in the first place and went to the checkout counter. The crinkling of the clerk’s nose told the tale. Bernie still smelled as if she’d taken a dive into a vat of perfume.
She hurried out of the store and got back into the limousine. It took only about five seconds for Carlos to look into the rearview mirror, his nose crinkling with even more disgust than the clerk had shown.
“What the hell is that smell?” he said, with his usual display of tact.
“Never mind,” Bernie snapped.
“Is that perfume?”
“It was an accident.”
“Whew. If that was an accident, I think I’d be suing Walgreens.”
“Just drive, will you?”
“Where to?”
Bernie gave him the address of her mother’s house. As he punched it into the GPS, she sat back with her fingertips to her temples, trying to ward off the headache she was getting from smelling herself.
Note to self: No girly stuff ever again as long as you live.
Carlos pulled out of the parking lot. After a minute, Bernie spied a McDonald’s and told him to stop, only to realize that if a limo looked dumb at a Walgreen’s, it looked positively ridiculous at a McDonald’s. She ran the gauntlet of curious stares and headed inside to the ladies’ room, where she washed her wrists, which helped with the overall stench. Some of the perfume still clung to her jeans, but at least she’d no longer make birds fall dead out of the trees just by walking past.
A few minutes later, they arrived at her mother’s house. Bernie knocked on the door, and her mother swept it open with a worried frown.
“Bernadette? Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
“Good news,” she said. “I went for an ultrasound today, and everything’s back to normal. I’m off bed rest. Full speed ahead.”
“Oh, I’m so glad!” Eleanor said. “I just knew everything was going to be okay.” Then as Bernie walked past her into the house, her eyes grew wide with surprise. “Bernadette? Are you wearing… perfume?”
Give up. Right off the bat. Don’t even try to explain. “Yeah, Mom. I’m wearing perfume.”
“Well, it’s a lovely scent,” she said with a beaming smile, though how her mother could smell the Eau de Cheap Hooker over her Glade “Always Spring” air freshener, Bernie didn’t know. “Now, see? Doesn’t just a little dab behind your ears make you feel pretty?”
Behind her ears? How about smeared up and down her thighs? At least now that she’d washed it off her wrists, the scent had faded to a preasphyxiation level.
A few minutes later, she was sitting at her mother’s kitchen table eating a chocolate chip muffin and drinking a cup of oolong tea. She’d chosen an Asian variety of tea because, of course, she’d didn’t want what was going in her to clash with what was already on her.
“I don’t see Billy around,” Bernie said offhandedly.
“He moved out,” Eleanor said.
“Oh, really?” Bernie said, feigning surprise. “What made him do that?”
“He found another place to live. And even better, he has a job. Your Jeremy hired him.”
“My Jeremy?”
“He gave him a job at his office complex doing landscaping work. Isn’t that nice?”
“Yeah. It is.”
“And he was so generous to give me access to a car and driver. It helps me out so much, and he seemed genuinely happy to do it.”
“Yeah, that was nice of him, too. But now that I’m on my feet again, I can take you wherever you need to go.”
“Oh, no. Jeremy told me he intends for me to use the car and driver at least throughout your pregnancy. That way if you’re not feeling well, or there’s some other reason you have to stay off your feet, you won’t have to worry about me.” Eleanor smiled. “He’s such a lovely man, Bernadette. You’re so lucky to have him.”
A queasy little feeling of apprehension slid through Bernie’s stomach, because the truth was that she didn’t have him. Wanted him, yes. She’d be a fool to keep denying it. But Jeremy Bridges had never been a one-woman man, and she knew he had no intention of ever becoming one. And now her mother had fallen under the charming spell he was so adept at weaving, leading her to believe that her daughter was Cinderella and her Prince had come.
“Mom, I don’t think you understand,” Bernie said. “There’s still nothing between us. Not like you think. He’s just not the kind of man who wants an ordinary family life. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand,” Eleanor said with a knowing smile. “That man cares for you more than you realize.”
Maybe. But caring and loving were two entirely different things.
“So now that you’re off bed rest, will you be going back to your apartment?” her mother asked.
“Yes. Of course. This afternoon, after I run all my errands.”
Eleanor frowned. “Oh. I hoped you’d be staying with Jeremy.”
“Come on, Mom. You know he was just helping me out until I was back on my feet.”
“I know that’s what you said. But I had hoped maybe—”
“He’s going to be there for the babies,” Bernie said.
“I know he is. But he’d also make a wonderful husband.”
Bernie sighed with resignation. “You’re not going to let go of this, are you?”
Eleanor gave her a small, knowing smile. “God hasn’t stopped hearing from me about it yet.”
Bernie decided there was no point in fighting it any longer. If her mother wanted to continue to petition God, so be it. She only hoped her mother wouldn’t be too disappointed when God finally answered her, and the answer was no.
“Does Jeremy like your perfume?” Eleanor asked.
“He hasn’t smelled it.” And he’s never going to.
Her mother smiled sweetly. “Always remember that no man can ever resist a woman wearing a pretty perfume.”
Bernie sighed inwardly. She’d always been the kind of woman who was pretty darned easy for a man to resist, and a dab or two of perfume was never going to change that.
She ran a few more errands. It was nearly four o’clock before Carlos dropped her back at Jeremy’s house. She headed into the kitchen and trotted up the stairs to the guest suite. Once inside it, she stopped for a moment to admire the place one last time. She’d told Jeremy the truth. She’d be forever spoiled after sleeping in this beautiful king-sized four-poster bed. And her thirty-two-inch TV was going to look positively pitiful after staring at the gigantic one over the fireplace for the past couple of weeks. And the Jacuzzi tub. There was nothing on earth to relax a person like one of those. And the balcony overlooking the property…
She sighed. It was all just too, too beautiful. But this was Jeremy’s life, not hers. It was time she got back to her own reality: a nine-hundred-square-foot apartment with a postage-stamp-sized kitchen and a tiny bathtub whose only talent was holding water.
She flipped on the ridiculously expensive sound system and stuck in a CD, reveling one last time in music as it really should be heard. She hummed along with the melody as she pulled her suitcase out of the closet and opened it. She packed her jeans and shirts and pajama pants.
Then she saw the emerald green gowns and robe her mother had insisted on packing for her.
Oh, just leave them there. It’s not as if you’ll ever be wearing them.
She left the closet and started to shut the door, only to turn around to look at the gowns again. After a moment, she walked over and stared at them, then reached out to touch one. She ran her hand along the silky fabric. It felt absolutely decadent. She didn’t know where her mother had gotten them, but they hadn’t been cheap. Bernie might be a little out of place in this house, but these gowns certainly weren’t.
On impulse, she pulled one off the rod, went back to the bedroom, and stood in front of the full-length mirror. She held up the gown in front of her and imagined for a moment she was wearing it. The fabric draped beautifully, and it would feel positively sinful against her bare skin.
She turned left and right. Hmm. Maybe it would be nice to wear a gown like this after all. Even if she looked funny in it, at least she could close her eyes and feel wonderful.
“Don’t just hold it up. Try it on.”
Startled, Bernie spun around, horrified to find Jeremy standing behind her. She yanked the gown away from herself at the same time she felt a hot flush rise on her cheeks.
“What are you doing here?” she said.
“I came up to see if you need some help with your suitcases. Didn’t know I’d be interrupting a fashion show.”
“You could have knocked.”
“I did. I guess you didn’t hear me over the music.” He tilted his head. “The color’s perfect for you. Let’s see what it looks like on.”
“Get real. I’m not putting it on.”
“Where did you get it?”
“My mother. She has different taste in nightclothes than I do.”
“Sorry. I’m going to have to side with your mother. Though your blue terrycloth robe is lovely, too.”
“Will you shut up?”
Bernie tried to brush past him, but he grabbed her by the arm.
“Wait,” he said. “What’s this I smell?”
“Smell?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Perfume?”
Oh, God. Not that, too. “I don’t wear perfume.”
“No, it’s definitely perfume.”
She sighed. “It was a tester at the drugstore. I was just… you know. Goofing around.”
He dipped his head to smell her neck, then pulled back, looking confused. “So where are you wearing it?”
“Never mind.” She turned to walk away, but he caught her arm again and pulled her back around. He sniffed the air a few more times. Then he looked down.
She rolled her eyes. “Some got on my jeans, okay?”
“On your jeans?” he said. “How did that happen?”
“If you must know, the squirter thingy malfunctioned.”
“A perfume malfunction. Never heard of one of those.”
“Well, now you have.”
“Might want to wear some perfume for real.”
“No, thanks.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t do the girly thing.”
He smiled. “Silk gown… perfume… sure you do.”
“Wrong,” she said, sticking the gown back into the closet. “Those things just aren’t me.”
“Were they ever you? What were you like in high school? Did you date?”
This conversation was really beginning to irritate her. “Let’s put it this way. Boys didn’t exactly hang out around my locker, waiting to ask me out.”
“Why not?”
She went to the dresser. “They were too busy chasing the ones who spent all their time reading Glamour and Cosmo and painting their toenails.”
“But you weren’t interested in those things?”
“Nope. But God, how my mother tried to get me to be. Turn around. I’m packing my underwear.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Jeremy said. “It’s not as if I haven’t seen women’s underwear before.”
Yes, but had he seen utilitarian white cotton underwear? She doubted that very much. “Turn around.”
With a roll of his eyes, he slowly turned around and kept his back to her until she had transferred her undies from the drawer to the suitcase.
“Do you know she bought me a pink angora sweater for my thirteenth birthday?”
“Yeah?” Jeremy said, facing her again. “What did you do with it?”
“Wore it to a family dinner. Then I stuffed it into the back of my closet and prayed she’d forget about it.”
“Maybe it was just the wrong color. Do they make those in camouflage?”
Bernie sighed. “I am so not the daughter she wanted.”
“You’re wrong about that. The other night she talked about how much you help her. She loves you a lot.”
“Yeah, I know. But she never really understood me. I guess that’s why I miss my father so much.”
“You said he died several years ago, but you never really told me about him.”
She smiled softly. “He was so wonderful. He used to take me fishing. To ballgames. To the shooting range. My mother really hated that.” She paused for a moment as the bittersweet memories overcame her. “It felt good to be with him. Natural. Like I was born to put on waders and go fly fishing, or get my hands greasy helping him change the spark plugs in his car. Every time my mother got frustrated by that, he’d just laugh and tell her to stop with the girly stuff and let me be me.”
“I take it that was hard for her to do.”
“My mother wanted me to be a cheerleader. My father wanted me to be point guard on the varsity basketball team.”
“So were you?”
“What?”
“Point guard on the varsity basketball team.”
She smiled. “Yeah. I was. I only wish my father had been there to see it.”
Jeremy nodded as if he understood completely. Given what he’d told her, it was pretty clear his own father hadn’t been present at many school events.
“To give my mother credit,” Bernie said, “she never missed a game. But she was far more concerned with making sure I wore ribbons in our school colors tied around my ponytail. All she ever wanted was for me to get married and have a family. Unfortunately, it looks as if that husband she’d like me to have isn’t going to wander along anytime soon. And even if he does, trust me. He’ll keep on walking.”
Jeremy took a step toward Bernie, his chin in his hand. “You know, you’re more attractive than you think you are.”
She slumped with dismay. “Now why would you say something dumb like that?”
“Because it’s true. You have great eyes. Irises so dark they practically melt into your pupils. Eyelashes the average woman would kill for. Perfect skin. Pretty hair, even if you don’t do anything with it. And if you’ll pardon my saying so, a really nice ass.”
She glared at him. “I’ve strangled men for less than that.”
“Nah. You need a compliment or two. Believe in yourself a little, Bernie. You’re not the man repellent you seem to think you are.”
“You’re just trying to make a pudgy pregnant woman feel good.” She closed the suitcase and zipped it.
“I meant what I said. Stop selling yourself short.”
“Old habits die hard.”
“That’s one you need to get rid of.”
Suddenly she realized just how serious he was, and she felt a warm shiver of awareness. “Thanks for everything,” she said softly. “Including the ego boost.”
That wasn’t how Jeremy intended it at all. He wasn’t trying to boost her ego. He was merely telling the truth. Lately he’d found it hard to believe he’d never noticed just how pretty she really was. All these years, her tough-girl attitude had masked all the good things in her heart that showed so clearly on her face right now.
Suddenly Jeremy heard a car engine outside. Bernie walked over and looked out the window to the motor court below.
“Gotta go,” she said. “That’s my ride.”
“Your ride?”
“My friend Teresa is picking me up.”
Jeremy felt a surge of disappointment. “She is?”
“Yeah. She has some things to give me for the baby. And she wants to see my new apartment.”
Yeah, but Jeremy wanted to be the one who was there when Bernie saw her new apartment. Damn. What was he supposed to say now? Go away, Teresa, I have this handled?
Jeremy took the suitcase. Bernie flipped off the music, and they went downstairs. Bernie opened the back door and a woman came into the kitchen—a tall, pretty, perky woman Jeremy truly wished would go away.
“I cannot believe this place,” Teresa said to Bernie, her eyes as wide as searchlights. “I simply can’t believe it.” She hiked a thumb over her shoulder. “That lake out there has swans in it. Swans. And this house. My God. It looks like a freakin’ castle. What is it? Like, eight thousand square feet?”
“Ten,” Jeremy said.
Teresa whipped around, seeing Jeremy for the first time. A smile came over her face. “And the view keeps getting better and better.” She strode over to Jeremy. “Hi. I’m Teresa Ramsey.”
Jeremy shook her hand. “Jeremy Bridges.”
“So you’re the king of the castle.”
“Yes. I guess I am.”
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you.” She turned to Bernie. “Oh! Guess what? My cousin said she definitely doesn’t want the crib anymore, so she’s giving it to you.”
“That’s great!”
“Bill’s going to get it right now and bring it to your apartment. It’s been in pieces in storage, so he’ll have to put it together.”
“Uh-oh,” Bernie said. “Bill? Put something together?”
Teresa turned to Jeremy. “She’s referring to the time my husband tried to assemble a desk. When he got finished, he had a handful of hardware left over, and the file drawer fell off.” She turned back to Bernie. “Don’t worry. Lucky and Gabe are coming, too. They’ll make sure he gets it right.”
Jeremy knew who Gabe was. But who the hell was Lucky?
“Max, too?” Bernie said.
“He’ll be by later to join everybody for poker.”
Poker?
“And don’t worry. I know you don’t have any groceries yet, so I picked up a couple of six-packs and stuff for nachos.”
“Thanks. You’re an angel.”
“We’d better get going, or Bill is going to beat us to your apartment.” She turned to Jeremy. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
He grabbed Bernie’s suitcase, took it out to Teresa’s car, and stuck it in the trunk. Then he opened the front passenger door and Bernie got in.
“Thanks for everything,” she said.
“Any time.”
He closed the door behind her. Teresa started the car, and in moments, they’d disappeared down the road.
And that was that.
Jeremy went back inside. For the longest time, he just stood in the kitchen, listening to the silence. In the time he’d known Bernie, she’d never spoken of family and friends, so he had taken her to be as much of a loner as he was. Now he knew just how wrong he’d been. The familiar way she and Teresa talked about the men told him just how close they all were, and it made Jeremy feel like the odd man out.
All at once he envisioned coming home in the evenings the way he used to, eating dinner alone in the breakfast room, doing a little work from the office, watching a little TV, then going to bed. Then he thought about women he used to date, the ones he’d never felt any connection with, and he couldn’t believe that had ever been enough. And this house. He’d been so proud of it when he’d built it, but now when he looked at it, he didn’t see the soaring ceilings, the beautiful furnishings, the expensive art. Instead he saw the space between all those things—the empty space that he’d never even thought about before, but that now seemed to surround him like a shroud.
If only Bernie hadn’t left. But why shouldn’t she? It wasn’t as if she needed him anymore.
He went to his den and sat down, flipping on the television to fill the silence. Then he looked beneath the coffee table and realized she’d left her slippers. He felt a shot of excitement, only to have it fizzle. Returning them to her might be good for a five-minute visit. Then what?
Then Jeremy happened to look at the bookshelves on the opposite side of the room and saw the stack of resumes the agency had sent over, the ones he’d tried to get Bernie to go through with him the night she ended up in the emergency room. He hadn’t looked at them since. The guy from his facilities department was doing a great job filling in as manager, but he really did need to hire somebody permanently.
Then all at once he had an idea.
He sat straight up in his chair, turning it over in his mind. It was the kind of plan he loved the most—a win-win for all concerned. And this time tomorrow, he’d have exactly what he wanted, and so would Bernie.
She just didn’t know it yet.
The next day, Bernie sat in front of the museum’s security monitors, her eyes crossing, checking her watch every five minutes. Unfortunately, around here, five minutes felt like fifty. She watched people milling around the central atrium. Having a bite of lunch at the café. Walking up and down in front of the exhibits. Wandering through the gift shop. On and on and on. She was thoroughly convinced that they could hire a marginally intelligent chimpanzee to do this job, except he’d probably get bored and quit.
The door behind her suddenly opened. Surprised by the noise, she spun around and was shocked to see Jeremy come into the room with Max following close behind.
Jeremy pulled up a chair backward, slung a leg over it, and rested his forearms on the back. Max took up a position along the wall.
“What are you guys doing here?” she asked.
“I need to talk to you,” Jeremy said.
“How did you find your way back here?”
“Max figured it out.”
“If the head of security finds you here, he’ll kick you out.”
“I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh, boy. This can’t be good.”
“Hear me out. You hate your job, so—”
“I didn’t say I hated my job.”
“Your mouth hasn’t said it, but your face always has.”
“So now you’re a body language expert?”
“She hates it,” Max said.
Bernie turned and glared at him. “I can speak for myself, Max.”
“Evasively,” Max said.
“Anyway,” Jeremy said, “yesterday I was looking over those resumes for the manager’s job at Creekwood, and suddenly I realized who the perfect candidate was.”
“Who?”
“You.”
“Me?” Bernie just stared at him, more than a little stunned. “You want me to manage Creekwood Apartments?”
“That’s right.”
“But—but I don’t know anything about managing an apartment complex.”
“Neither did Charmin.”
“I know, but—”
“Do you honestly think it’s something you couldn’t do?”
“She can do it,” Max said.
Bernie glared at him again. “You know, for somebody who doesn’t talk much, you’re having a hard time shutting up.”
Max smiled. Just a little.
“Of course I can do it,” Bernie told Jeremy. “I just don’t know if I’m the best person to do it.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you are,” Jeremy said. “And it’s a win-win situation. You get a job where you can move around, solve problems, get things done. And I protect my investment by hiring somebody competent to run it. Would learning something new be too stressful for you?”
“Stressful? I’m used to stress. That’s why this job is killing me. If I don’t have stress, I get stressed.”
“Even with the babies?”
“Even with the babies.”
“Would it be too much activity?”
“No. At this place, I get too little activity. That’s not good.”
“We’d have to work together quite a bit to make sure things stayed on track. Any problem with that?”
“Hell, yes. You drive me crazy.”
Jeremy smiled. “So will you do it?”
“Benefits?”
“Whatever you need.”
Then he mentioned a salary figure that positively ensured his investment was going to show a huge loss. She’d have to talk to him about that, because she still didn’t like the idea of getting something for nothing. And she still wasn’t completely sure she was competent to do the job. But if it meant getting out of this place…
“Bernie,” Jeremy said, “am I going to have to spend ten more minutes convincing you it’s the right thing to do? Because if I am—”
“She’ll do it,” Max said.
Bernie slumped with frustration. “Will you let me speak for myself?” She turned back to Jeremy. “Okay. I’m in. But the second you start in with the micromanaging control freak crap, I’m out of there. If you pay me to run the show, I’m running it.”
“Deal. You can start as soon as you can shake free from this job.”
It would feel strange to quit working for Gabe after all this time, but realistically, as a pregnant woman and eventually a mother, was she really all that employable where he was concerned?
Maybe it was time to move into something totally different.
“Fine,” she said. “But I still don’t get why you’re here. Couldn’t you have just given me a call tonight?”
“I had to catch you at a vulnerable moment,” Jeremy said.
“What?”
“At the height of boredom. If you were sitting here wishing you were anywhere else, you were much more likely to accept my offer.” He rose from the chair and pushed it back up against the desk. “Come on, Max. Let’s go.”
“Who are you guys going to rough up now?” Bernie asked.
“Hmm,” Jeremy mused. “I have a board of directors that doesn’t always see things my way. I’m thinking of bringing Max in. Just to stand there. You know.”
Max flexed his biceps, his mouth turning down in a bad-ass frown.
Bernie rolled her eyes. “You’re both nuts. Out.”
Jeremy gave her a wink as they left the room, and she couldn’t help smiling back. After all, it was a perfect opportunity he was offering her. She’d be exercising the brain she swore had atrophied from lack of use. She’d be talking to people and solving their problems. She’d be overseeing the renovation. And as much as she’d told Jeremy to stay out of her way, of course she’d be discussing things with him, implementing his plans, reporting her progress. Together they’d be turning Creekwood into a decent place for the residents to live. As time went on, they might even be able to figure out a way to make it a profitable business.
She couldn’t wait.