Park Avenue Scandals: High-Society Secret Pregnancy. Laura Wright
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away,” Julia told her.
“I didn’t ask where they were,” Margaret reminded her, “I said who are they?”
“I know the name Rolland,” her father said from his chair. “I just can’t place it.”
“Max is from upstate,” Julia told her mother. Then, smiling, she took a breath and added, “His father was, I believe, a truck driver and his mother was a housewife.”
Margaret slapped one hand to her chest and staggered backward as if someone had shoved a sword through her body.
“Rolland!” Donald Prentice shouted the name and pounded one fist against the arm of his chair. “That’s how I know the name. That upstart running roughshod over Wall Street. He’s made something of a name for himself, but—”
“A truck driver?” Margaret moaned softly, dropped back into her chair and lifted one hand to cover her eyes. “Oh, dear God, how did this happen?”
Julia paid no attention to the drama. “Max is very successful,” she said. “He’s a … good man.” That might have been a bit of a stretch, she told herself, but at the same time, she realized that only a good man would have proposed to help her out. Whether he saw it that way or not, if he’d been a different sort of man, he’d have left her to solve her own problem or drown in her own misery.
“A housewife?” Margaret whispered the word as if afraid someone might hear her.
“People say he’s cold and ruthless,” Donald was saying, though his wife wasn’t listening and Julia didn’t want to hear him. “Could be quite a force in the city if he had a family name behind him.”
“He’s doing just fine without a ‘name,’“ Julia argued.
“No doubt,” Donald said with a frown. “But there are limits to what a man like him can accomplish.”
“Because his blood isn’t blue?” Julia stood up and looked at her parents each in turn. “That’s ridiculous. Max Rolland is a good, hardworking man who made his own fortune rather than inherited it.”
“Exactly,” Donald said with a slow shake of his head.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, glancing off the white walls and floors until Julia’s eyes stung with the cold, hard brilliance of it all. Why had she been so concerned with telling her parents about her baby? Why had she been so terrified that she might lose this one slender thread of family?
The truth was, she’d never had a family to lose. She’d always been alone.
Until now, anyway.
Now she had her baby.
And she had Max.
“You can’t possibly be serious about marrying this person.” Her mother posed it as a sentence, not a question.
“I’m more serious about it with every passing second,” Julia assured her, picking up her purse and slipping the slim leather strap over her shoulder.
“Julia, don’t do something you’ll regret,” her father warned.
“I’ve already done that, Father,” Julia told him as she turned to leave. “I came here expecting support. I’m not sure why, exactly, but this visit is definitely something I regret.”
She walked briskly across the room, through the doorway and down the stairs where a maid in uniform waited to open the front door for her. Julia reached the bottom of the steps and turned when her mother called her name sharply.
Margaret Prentice stood at the head of the stairs, looking as cool and unapproachable as a queen. “What is it, Mother?”
“Don’t think for one moment, young woman, that your father and I will acknowledge your marriage to this man. If you do this, you turn your back on your family.”
A small twist of fear became a knot in the pit of her stomach, but then, as she drew one long breath, that knot dissolved. Strange, Julia thought, that it was at the moment her life was most in turmoil that she should find such an incredible sense of peace.
“I understand, Mother. Goodbye.”
The door closed firmly behind her.
By the following day, Julia was too busy to spend much time worrying about her parents. She had a wedding to plan and a move to organize.
“It’s going to be great,” Amanda said as they settled into a couple of armchairs at the Park Café. Reaching into her leather briefcase, Amanda pulled out a thick day planner and quickly scanned her notes. “I know Max wants a fast wedding,” she said with a wink for Julia, “but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fabulous. I’ve got the names of some caterers and I’d like you to look at some samples from the florist I’ve been working with.”
Julia had notes of her own to check and they didn’t have anything to do with her upcoming wedding. She was in the middle of a fund-raiser for a Manhattan shelter, and there were still one or two things that had to be nailed down. “Why don’t you pick the caterer, Amanda? I swear I haven’t had enough of an appetite to even think about food lately.”
Her friend frowned a bit, reached for her ice blended mocha and took a sip. Her gaze fixed on Julia until she squirmed uncomfortably.
“You haven’t been feeling well ever since you went to see your folks,” Amanda said.
“Can you blame me?” Julia forced a smile and told herself she’d be fine. She’d be great. She had her work, she had her baby and soon she’d have her very own husband, complete with prenup, baby contract and suspicion.
“No,” Amanda said, “who can blame you? I’m just saying, the wedding’s coming and you really should pay attention.”
Julia closed her folder, sighed and leaned back into her chair. The café was crowded at lunchtime, and the noise level was such that Julia felt safe enough talking about what was really bothering her. “It’s not the wedding or my parents,” she said, leaning in a bit closer. “It’s the fact that I’m moving in with Max in a few days.”
Amanda laughed. “Honey, you’re marrying him.”
“I know, I know.” Julia frowned and told herself she was being foolish. “But living with him is a little …”
“Exciting?”
“I was going to go with ‘unnerving.’ “
“Why?”
“Because of the way we’re getting married,” she said. “And the fact that he still doesn’t believe me about the baby.”
“Well, he’s an idiot. We already decided that.” Amanda went back to her lists.
“I know, but how’m I supposed to convince him that he is the father?”
“You may not be able to until the baby’s born. Then you can do a paternity test.”
“So that leaves me with seven months of my husband thinking I’m a liar.”
Amanda closed her folder, picked up her mocha and idly twirled the straw through the thick, pale brown liquid. “You know I’m with you, no matter what, right?”
“Of course.”
She smiled. “And you know I’m completely excited that you’re letting me take over your apartment when you move in with Max …”
“I know.”
“But,” Amanda said, leaning forward to pat Julia’s hand, “if you’re really worried about this, don’t do it.”
“What?” Julia glanced across the room when someone laughed too loudly. Then, looking back at Amanda, she said, “I have to.”
“No, you don’t. You’ve already faced the