Mother Of The Bride. Кэрол Мортимер
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as trivial as our children's engagement!'
He was trying to make her feel guilty again! ‘I've already told you that it's all nonsense,’ she snapped. ‘Just a not very funny joke.'
‘You seem so convinced of that, but I don't see how you can be so sure.’ He shook his head. ‘Or have you spoken to Emily?’ His eyes were narrowed.
‘Well, no, but—–’ She frowned. ‘I've called her at home a couple of times,’ she added defensively. ‘She hasn't been at home.'
Zack nodded slowly. ‘Greg has been equally elusive …'
‘When I see her tonight we can all have a good laugh about it,’ Helen dismissed, although she didn't think her father would find it in the least amusing; he had never approved of Zack, and Greg was Zack's son …
‘So we can,’ Zack drawled. ‘Won't it be a jolly way to start the evening?’ he taunted.
Helen became suddenly still, staring at him as a terrible possibility occurred to her. ‘Emily invited you and Greg to join us for dinner tonight …?’ But she already knew the answer, could see it in Zack's face.
‘Yes, she—and she didn't tell you she had done so, the little minx,’ he slowly realised at Helen's distraught expression.
Deliberately so, Helen knew; Emily had known that although she had always got on with Greg she certainly wouldn't want Zack there. She knew exactly what her daughter had done, that she had invited Zack and Greg and then telephoned her favourite Chinese restaurant herself to change the booking from three to five people, without telling Helen she had done it.
The problem was that Emily had adored Zack from the first. Never having known her real father because he had died while she was still only a baby, it had been easy for the fifteen-year-old Emily had been when Helen and Zack had married to accept him as a father figure.
Helen knew, belatedly, that it should have occurred to her before that Emily might want Zack at her birthday party—her family birthday party.
Zack watched the emotions flickering across the paleness of her face with narrowed eyes. ‘Helen, I meet Emily for lunch at least every couple of weeks,’ he told her softly. ‘And she visits the house often, goes up to her bedroom, lies on the bed, listens to music—–'
‘Her bedroom is at my house!’ Helen burst out tautly, shaken by what he was telling her, each word like the prick of a knife against her skin. ‘And you knew damn well I wouldn't want you at this dinner tonight; you could have—–'
‘You wouldn't want?’ he echoed, dangerously soft, giving her a pitying glance. ‘I don't think Emily's eighteenth birthday celebrations should have anything to do with what you want! When we got married we didn't just marry each other; the children were involved too,’ he reminded her coldly. ‘And my relationship with Emily has survived the separation; I intend for it to remain that way,’ he informed her in a voice that brooked no argument.
Helen sensed his criticism of her own relationship with Greg. She had been very fond of her stepson, had deeply regretted not being able to maintain their friendship, at least. But at the time she had thought, whether rightly or wrongly, that a clean break was the best way.
She had had no idea that Emily had kept up such a close relationship with Zack, had always believed that she and Emily had a close mother-daughter relationship, that Emily could tell her anything. My God, she thought, no wonder Zack had been so scornful of that claim earlier today; he had known the truth.
It hurt, badly, that she had been so wrong about that. It hurt even more to acknowledge that she had created that particular situation herself, with her own reluctance to even have Zack's name mentioned in her presence. As Zack so rightly said, their children had been involved in their marriage too, and they had feelings that couldn't be turned on and off on command.
‘Oh, God,’ Helen groaned, burying her face in her hands. ‘What a mess!'
She had married Zack, she had truly believed at the time, for all the right reasons, and look what it had done to her beloved daughter. Not that Emily had actually been reduced to lying to her about the lunches and the visits to Zack's house; she had just omitted ever to mention them. And that had probably only been done so as not to hurt Helen.
‘Helen, I—–For God's sake!’ Zack swore as she flinched away from the touch of his hand on her shoulder. ‘You don't have to make your aversion to me quite so obvious, damn it,’ he rasped. ‘I was only trying to comfort you!'
She hadn't even been aware of his approach until she felt the warmth of his hand through the material of her blouse, and then she had reacted as if she had received an electric shock.
Now Zack was looking at her with that mixture of disgust and frustration that had been such a part of their marriage, his hands thrust out of harm's way into the pockets of his trousers, stretching the material tautly across his thighs.
‘I'm sorry,’ Helen said abruptly as she looked quickly away. ‘I—it's been a difficult day for me.'
He continued to look at her for several long, tension-filled minutes, and then he relaxed slightly, his mouth twisting derisively. ‘Not the least of it being my coming here.'
She began to breathe normally again as he moved away. ‘Not the least,’ she acknowledged tautly. ‘And as it seems we shall be seeing you this evening—–'
‘Greg, too,’ he put in softly, raising innocent brows as she gave him a quelling look.
‘Greg, too,’ she repeated in a carefully controlled voice, hoping Emily hadn't decided to invite other ‘guests’ she didn't know about; she was going to have to sit down and have a serious talk with her daughter, and about so much more than the repercussions of that ridiculous announcement in the newspaper this morning—although God knew that was serious enough! ‘As you will both be joining us for dinner this evening, that seems as good a time as any to discuss the engagement announcement,’ she dismissed, wanting to put an end to this conversation; usually so calm and in control, she always changed when Zack was around.
‘And how quickly you can get a retraction printed,’ Zack drily guessed what she hadn't yet had a chance to say.
Grey eyes met his coolly. ‘But of course.'
‘Of course,’ he echoed tautly, moving to the door. ‘We'll see you later, then,’ he taunted, pausing with his hand on the door-handle. ‘Oh, and, Helen—just be grateful that no one added to the confusion by announcing the daughter of Mrs H. Neilson was to marry the son of Mr Z. Neilson!’ And with that last mocking parting shot he left, the bell over the shop door ringing seconds later to show that he hadn't lingered outside.
Mrs Neilson; she had hardly been that long enough for the ink to dry on their marriage certificate! She had certainly had no difficulty reverting back to the name of Palmer after their separation.
There was the briefest of knocks before Sonia put her head round the side of the door. ‘Everything OK?’ she frowned.
Evidence of just how brief her marriage to Zack had been was that this woman, with whom Helen had worked for almost two years, had no idea of its existence! She and Zack had already been separated when she took Sonia on as her assistant, and there had been no reason since that time to mention that she had once been married—was still technically married—to their landlord.
But at least that last fact gave her an excuse to explain Zack's presence here at all. ‘Just checking up on his investment,’ Helen dismissed with a shrug.
Unfortunately that seemed to alarm Sonia rather than reassure her, probably because Zack hadn't deemed it necessary to pay them a visit in the previous two years!
‘Problems?’ She came into the office and closed the door behind her, inviting confidences if Helen wanted to give them. ‘There's nothing wrong with the lease, is there?'
Ironically it was this shop that had first caused her to be involved with