“Is that right?” Gerald said meekly.
I thought of Bill’s aunts and nodded emphatically. “Yes. And as far as Anthea and Lucy are concerned, you’re one hundred percent Willis. So just stop all of this ... this whining.” I paused to catch my breath, and as Gerald lifted his arm to lay it along the back of the couch, I became keenly aware of the fact that I was practically sitting in his lap.
“Self-pity, eh?” he asked. “Is that my problem?”
“Y-yes,” I replied, trying very hard not to be distracted by the knowledge that my knee was nestled snugly against his thigh. “It’s made you lump Lucy in with the idiot males in your family, and she doesn’t deserve it. She never betrayed you. She didn’t know a thing about Sir Williston’s nasty old diary.”
“Exactly,” Gerald said dejectedly.
“She’ll get over it,” I declared. “She’ll toss Julia Louise’s portrait onto a bonfire and dig up a more worthy role model. Not that she needs one. She’s pretty incredible already:”
“I suppose she’ll find out about the diary eventually,” Gerald acknowledged. “Arthur’s bound to slip up one day.”
“Make sure she finds out about it from you.” I peered earnestly up at Gerald’s beautiful, battered face. “You go back to Lucy and tell her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth—and don’t ever tell her anything else.”
Gerald’s dimple reappeared. “You’re advising complete honesty?”
I nodded. “Believe me, Gerald, it’s not just the best policy, it’s the only policy when you’re dealing with someone you love.”
“In that case, I have one more confession to make to you, Lori.” He leaned forward and whispered, his lips mere inches from my own: “I was not simply being kind.”
I gazed steadily into his sea-bright eye and saw something there that sent a new kind of warmth flooding through me. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you.”
Gerald lowered his long eyelashes, and his lips curved into a rueful smile. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “The last time I saw you...”
“Things have changed since then,” I assured him. “Mr. Willis’s son has come to his senses. But thanks, Gerald. I’ll never forget your kindness.” I bent closer and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Maybe I can return the favor sometime.”
“Lori,” he said softly, “you already have.”
Gerald and I were discussing the difficulties he was encountering in identifying the rightful owners of his father’s collection when the hall door opened and Bill strode jauntily into the room, talking excitedly with Willis, Sr.
“Who called?” I asked, smiling fondly at my husband.
“Thomas,” replied Willis, Sr. “I assured him that all was well and that his son would visit him tomorrow.” He and Bill came to stand in front of the couch, looking as though they’d just solved the problem of how to weight a certain bamboo fishing pole properly so that it would stay at the bottom of a certain lake in Maine.
“Now, Gerald,” continued Willis, Sr., brightly, “I believe we can conclude the business that brought me to you in the first place.”
“Excellent,” said Gerald, getting to his feet.
“What business?” I asked suspiciously. “You promised not to leave Boston.”
“A promise I fully intend to keep.” Willis, Sr., put one hand on Bill’s shoulder and the other on Gerald’s. “Lori, please allow me to introduce the newly formed European branch of Willis & Willis.”
It took a minute or two for the meaning of his words to sink in. “Bill?” I exclaimed. “Bill’s going to work in Finch?”
“When he’s not working in London,” said Gerald. He held his hand to his black eye. “I’ve been telling Lucy for years that we need a heavy hitter in our corner.”
“With all due modesty,” said Willis, Sr., “I believe that the announcement of our alliance will lay to rest any uncertainties Dr. Flannery’s revelations may arouse in the legal community on both sides of the Atlantic.”
I looked up at the three men as they launched into plans for the future. Willis, Sr., talked expansively about the complications of dealing with his firm’s increasingly international clientele, but he couldn’t fool me. I’d finally figured out what he’d been up to all along.
My darling father-in-law had just seen to it that Bill and I would no longer be the only transatlantic couple we knew. He was taking us out of the mansion and away from Bill’s horrible aunts, and putting us into the cottage, where we’d be surrounded by loving friends and a whole flock of caring relatives. He knew that the first two years of our marriage had nearly broken our hearts, but he also knew that they would mend, given the proper care and attention.
At the same time, of course, he was clearing the decks back in Boston, so he could return to what he considered his life’s work, as well as increasing his chances of having a grandchild, but that was only to be expected. Uncle Tom hadn’t called Willis, Sr., a crafty old fox for nothing.
“William,” Nell said, emerging suddenly from her reverie near the hearth.
Willis, Sr., turned toward her. “Yes, Eleanor?”
Nell regarded him with a dissatisfied frown. “Does this mean that number three, Anne Elizabeth Court, belongs to you?”
“It belongs to my family,” said Willis, Sr., gazing benignly at Gerald. “As it always has.”
“There’s something else,” said Nell. “Why did you leave that silly note for Lori when you left the cottage? We had to jump through hoops to find out where you’d gone.”
Willis, Sr., regarded me sheepishly. “Forgive me, Lori. I was in such high spirits when I departed that I must have left out a few pertinent details. Understandable, I would say, considering the circumstances. It is not every day that one receives such gratifying news.”
“Gratifying news?” I repeated blankly.
Willis, Sr., raised a hand to the knot in his tie, then placed it gently on my shoulder. “My dear girl,” he said, his voice filled with disbelief, “am I to understand that they never got hold of you?”
“Who never got hold of me?” I demanded, beginning to feel nervous.
Willis, Sr., sat beside me on the couch. “Dr. Hawkings, my dear. He telephoned after you went to visit Emma, with the results of your most recent test. Lori, my dear, dear girl—it was positive.”
“Dr. Hawkings released my test results to you?” I squeaked.
“Test results?” said Bill.
“He told me that you had given him permission to shout them from the rooftops,” said Willis, Sr. “He also said that you should have noticed definite ... symptoms by now.”
“Symptoms?” Bill echoed.
“Hmmm ...” I scratched my head and reviewed the past few days—the unusual fatigue, the persistent backache, the mood swings ... How could I have been so obtuse? I looked down at the loose-fitting cotton dress Nell had picked out for me and said wonderingly, “I even tossed my cookies in a hedgerow.” My head snapped up and I stared accusingly at Nell. “You knew.”
“I had a hunch,” said Nell, crossing from the hearth to the couch.
“Emma warned me about your hunches.” I jumped to my feet and enveloped her and Bertie in what could only be described as a bear hug.
“Tossed your cookies in a hedgerow,” Bill was murmuring. Suddenly his face was suffused with what seemed like a heavenly radiance. “Lori? Do you mean to say that you‘re—”