She’d put on a pair of silver ballet toe flats. Carried a big, poochy, black, expensive designer handbag that she’d purchased in a wild flight of fancy at duty free shopping on her way home to tell her family she was pregnant (this, she excused as still being in the throes of temporary insanity). And, last, she’d donned a black belt with enormous, square, silver rivets in it.
She’d worn silver hoops in her ears, a dozen silver bangles at her wrist and put her hair in a ponytail at the back of her head because James told her he liked her hair down. That she knew was being in his face but she didn’t think it was obvious so she cut herself some slack.
She looked like an innocent rock ‘n’ roll virgin.
Albeit a pregnant one.
She sat as her mother park the car at the base of the sweeping, wide, stone stairwell that led to the arched, fifteen-foot tall, studded, wooden double doors.
Belle felt a wave of nausea and swallowed it down.
Her grandmother, sitting in the backseat, leaned forward and rested her hand on Belle’s shoulder. “You okay, Bellerina?”
No, she was definitely not okay.
But she didn’t admit that.
“Let’s just get this done,” Belle muttered instead, threw open her door and stepped out.
No sooner had she done this than one of the double doors swung open and Joy, wearing an elegant, blue dress the likes of which one would don to meet The Queen, came flying out.
She was wearing the brooch Belle had given her.
“Belle!” she cried, rushing down the steps, throwing her arms wide and Belle braced just as Joy reached her and gave her a warm, friendly hug. “Oh darling, I’m so pleased to hear your and Jack’s news. So, so, so, so, so, so, so pleased,” she chanted, her arms still tight around Belle and Joy was swinging her side to side with abandoned delight.
Joy moved a bit away but held Belle by the forearms so she could look into Belle’s eyes with a friendly smile.
As if the last time Belle saw her, Belle wasn’t dashing out of her house in humiliation after loudly fighting with both her sons because she’d been dating one and slept with the other.
As if, for a month after that, Belle’s sordid relationship with her sons hadn’t been written about in detail (not all of them correct, but they were correct enough) in every newspaper on three continents (maybe seven, Belle had no friends in South America, Asia, Africa or Antarctica so who knew).
Joy gave Belle’s arms a squeeze and repeated on a whisper, “So pleased.” Then her head jerked around and she shrieked, “My God! You are not Belle’s mother!” And she rushed to Rachel and embraced her too.
“Is James Bennett adopted?” Gram asked, sotto voce, in Belle’s ear and Belle choked back a wave of hysterical laughter.
This was not hard to do. While swallowing her laughter, she saw movement at the door and her mirth and hysteria died.
She looked up and there stood James, arms crossed on his chest, legs set wide. He was wearing jeans and an untucked, tailored, black shirt. He was looking even more beautiful than she remembered him and she thought she’d remembered every single detail of him in glaring clarity but, apparently, she had not.
His eyes were on her and she felt the trill go up her spine as her belly did a flip that had nothing to do with nausea.
Quickly she turned her eyes away and watched Joy introduce herself to Gram with another welcoming hug.
Then Joy disengaged from Gram and linked arms with Belle, leading her up the steps.
“I’ve ordered high tea and we’ve made sure we have plenty for dinner if you all decide to stay which I think would be lovely,” Joy wittered on as she firmly guided Belle up the steps even though Belle tried very hard to drag her feet.
They nearly made it to the top and Belle didn’t look up but she saw James’s thighs, hips then stomach and none of them moved out of the way of the door.
She ignored this by turning to Joy and saying, “I’m sorry you went to all that trouble, Joy, but I’m not very hungry.”
The forceful, no-nonsense words uttered in James’s unmistakable, deep voice brought Belle to a stop.
“You’ll eat.”
Her gaze skittered to his still unfairly beautiful eyes and she saw he was staring at her.
“I’m not hungry,” Belle repeated.
“You’re eating for two so you’ll eat,” James returned and Belle felt the heat sting her cheeks at his nearly instant reference to their unborn child.
She also felt like running back down the steps to her car or avoiding it altogether and jumping into the sea and swimming to France.
At the same time she felt like kicking him in the shin.
No, “Hello.” No, “How are you?” No, “I’m so sorry I broke your heart and devastated your life, all in one night, how will you ever forgive me?”
Just, “You’ll eat.”
Belle didn’t know what to say so she looked away and said nothing at all.
Luckily Joy knew exactly what to do in intensely uncomfortable situations and she guided Belle into the house and to the sitting room, a room Belle especially liked, decorated in warm greens and bright yellows. She chatted the whole time making them all at ease (or as at ease as they could be under the circumstances) and then rushed out to order the refreshments.
Belle, Mom and Gram all had taken seats.
James stood leaning against the mantel of the fireplace, arms still crossed on his chest.
Belle wished he would sit. He was tall and he seemed even taller (for obvious reasons) when she was seated.
She, however, didn’t tell him this.
In fact, except for a quick glance, she didn’t look at him at all.
“What an, erm, lovely room,” Mom commented nervously.
James didn’t reply.
They waited.
James still didn’t reply.
“Can we get on with this?” Gram asked impatiently.
James spoke but Belle still didn’t look at him. “We’ll wait until Mum returns.”
“Whyever would we do that?” Gram snapped.
“Do you expect the have the right to speak about the future of your unborn great-grandchild during these discussions?” James asked.
“Of course I do,” Gram returned, unusually not quick enough to catch his meaning.
“Then we’ll wait until Mum returns,” James stated firmly and Gram clamped her mouth shut and glared at Belle.
She did this as if it was all Belle’s fault when it wasn’t Belle who’d shot off to London and forced herself into James Bennett’s office and announced he’d gotten someone pregnant.
Belle returned her grandmother’s glare.
Gram’s eyes grew narrow, something which, when Belle was a child, would frighten the dickens out of her. Something which, when Belle was a pregnant thirty-five year old woman sorting through the mess Gram had made for her (well, kind of), Belle didn’t react to at all.
Gram let out an annoyed sigh and looked away just as Joy re-entered the room.
“Tea, cakes, sandwiches, everything, coming right up,” Joy announced and at the very thought of food, Belle felt bile slide up her throat.
She put her hand to her chest and swallowed. She felt her mother’s eyes move to her in question and Belle spared her a glance and gave her a short shake of the head.
When she looked away from Rachel, her eyes slid past James then came jerking back when she saw his gaze was narrowed on her hand at her chest.
She dropped it and looked away.
“All right,” Joy clapped happily as she sat down. “Let’s talk baby. Belle, darling, are you taking vitamins?”