The Soon-To-Be-Disinherited Wife

I’m just trying to say that last night was beautiful. For me. It was what I’d held out for. And I’m glad I did.”

She raised up again and kissed him. Not a kiss of enticement. Just…she wanted to give him something sweet and honest. So her lips brushed his, softer than a whisper. More fleeting than a promise.

She didn’t know what he wanted from her. What he felt. There’s no way she would have asked. It was crazy to think he could possibly care as fiercely and deeply as she did-not this soon. Not in this short a time. But her heart was filled to brimming over with emotions and choices and wonder that she hadn’t expected to feel.

Right or wrong, crazy or not crazy-impossible or not impossible-she knew she’d fallen in love with him.

Eight

Late-afternoon sun poured through the windshield as Emma turned into her parents’ driveway. As she shut off the engine and climbed out, she took a long, bracing breath.

This visit was going to be difficult, but it had to be done. She owed her parents a more extensive explanation about Reed and the broken engagement. And this afternoon was the best possible time to handle this, because she felt a rare surge of strength-not the poise she put on in public but darn near something real. She actually wanted to have this talk with her parents, wanted to be honest with them. It amazed her.

She knew Garrett was the catalyst for that boost of confidence. Darn it, at her age, she shouldn’t need somebody else to validate her. But he had. He’d made her feel accepted and wanted for who she was-not who others wanted her to be. And as she hiked to the front door, she felt an easiness on the inside she hadn’t experienced in a month of Sundays.

Pausing before entering, she glanced up. She loved this house, always had. Dearborns had built it a century before. With its four chimneys and multiple roofs and gothic turrets, it wasn’t quite a castle but almost. As a young girl she’d fantasized about beauty and perfection, formed by the gorgeous home surrounding her. The house itself had always given her a sense of security, especially when real life hadn’t been that easy when she was a kid.

She let herself in, calling, “Mom! Dad! I’m home!”

Funny, but she’d been sleeping so often at Color that she’d practically forgotten this was technically still her address. Her mom rushed out of the living room, her heels clattering on the parquet floor. At a glance Emma could see she was sober, which was both a relief and a surprise. But Diana was usually impeccably groomed, and today her white linen slacks and top looked slept in, her hair in disarray. “I called and called you. Why didn’t you answer?”

“But I did, Mom. I left a message that I’d be here this afternoon. I knew you’d be upset over the breakup, but it also wasn’t something we could discuss in a quick phone call. I had a meeting this morning and then I had to have lunch with Felicity to start calling off all the wedding arrangements-”

Her mother waved a frantic hand, clearly expressing that those were unnecessary details. “You have to get Reed back. Right now, today. Immediately. You have to marry him. David!” she called, although she never took her eyes off her daughter. “Emma, you have to listen to us!”

Emma stiffened, losing some of the sureness she’d felt walking in here. Her time with Garrett suddenly seemed a million hours ago. “Mom, I know how fond you are of Reed. And I know how much you wanted to have the wedding here, but I’ll take care of canceling all those arrangements and details-”

“It has nothing to do with the arrangements or expense, you foolish, foolish girl. David!”

Her father showed up in the doorway. She got a quick hug. Very quick. They got just close enough for her to feel his poker-straight spine, to see the tight lines around his eyes. “Honey, you don’t realize what you’ve done.”

“Of course I do. I called off an engagement.”

“You threw away a fortune,” her mother said furiously. “Now come in here and sit down. After we talk, you can call Reed and make it up to him.”

Something was wrong. Nothing they were saying was making sense. The serenity she’d walked in with completely deserted her. “What on earth are you talking about?”

They flanked her going into the living room. Unlike a normal afternoon in this coral-and-cream room, though, there was no decanter of scotch on the priceless Chinese mirrored coffee table, no TV on broadcasting the news, no fancy hors d’oeuvres to munch on. In fact, the room was so still, it resembled a showpiece.

“Sit,” her father ordered.

They all did, but it was her mother who started talking. “You’ve thrown away millions of dollars,” she said dramatically.

It was her mom’s mom, the Soule side of the family, who’d come over on the Mayflower. Her dad had married into that old aristocracy-and old money. His side was hardly poor, and heaven knew, he’d made his own fortune. But it was the old Soule money that added up to a piece of the rock. At least, the Dearborn rock.

“Come on, you two. Fill me in. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Emma, you claimed for years that you had no interest in marrying. Your grandmother was afraid you meant it. So were we. And there’d be no one to pass on the whole Dearborn legacy unless you married and had children. So your grandmother made it a condition of your trust…that you had to marry before the age of thirty to get the money.”

For the first time Emma started to believe that her parents weren’t just giving her attitude and dramatics. “Wait a minute,” she said quietly. “Just slow down. No one ever told me any of this before-”

“We didn’t think we had to, honey. Because once you started seeing Reed, we both could see that relationship was becoming serious. If you just go through with the wedding, everything will be fine. I know you hadn’t set a firm date, but it was always going to be at the end of July or early August. Definitely before your thirtieth birthday. So all you have to do is follow through-”

“Whoa. Just hold on.” Emma stood up, still trying to grasp this.

She’d been a teenager when her grandmother died, and that was the first she’d been told about the trust-and the considerable size of the trust. That security had affected every choice she’d made as an adult. “Grandma didn’t know I didn’t plan to marry. I was just a kid-”

“But you always talked that way, Emma. The only time it was different was when you were with the Keating boy. But as a child-and after you and Garrett split up-you always sang the same tune. About not wanting to marry. Not needing to marry. And your grandmother-”

Emma heard that out. “All right-but if the trust doesn’t go to me, who does it go to?”

“Your grandmother made a list of charities and causes, if you failed to marry. It’s all legal. Of course, you could fight it, but the attorneys told us frankly that you’d have no legal ground-”

“There’s nothing I’d want to fight,” Emma said quietly. “If that’s what my grandmother wanted, it would seem she made her choices.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Emma,” her father said heavily. “Just call Reed. Whatever rift you had, I’m sure it’s mendable. You’re both reasonable people, hardly children anymore. Everyone has arguments. I can’t imagine either of you doing something that wasn’t redeemable.”

Her dad’s voice seemed to fade, as if he were talking from a distance. She saw his lips moving, saw her mother’s lips moving.

They were both talking to her at the same time, quickly and urgently.

Emma had the sudden foolish feeling that someone had just smacked her upside the head. No one had, not physically. But the shock of it all finally sank in.

If she didn’t marry before her thirtieth birthday, she’d lose everything. Color. She knew how much money she owed on the gallery, knew it still wasn’t paying for itself-not the way she’d chosen to run it. All this time, she’d thought she could indulge her belief that the gallery was for the community’s benefit instead of for chasing a profit. She’d wanted to expose Eastwick to new artists and new ideas, to all kinds of art and beauty, even if those choices didn’t pay her back financially. She could have run the gallery differently, but she’d been so positive she had that massive trust fund coming to support it and herself.

And all this time she’d happily volunteered with troubled teenagers through Eastwick Cares and the little kids