“Don't worry,” she said confidently, “I'm not going to. I may have mellowed. But I'm not crazy.”
“Why is it that I don't believe you?” Adrian said as he shook his head in disbelief over the story she had told him, and left her office.
And as promised, John moved in on Sunday. He took Courtenay to Princeton on Saturday, and Hilary flew back to Rhode Island on Friday night. Two hours after he got back from New Jersey he was at Fiona's house, with half a dozen suitcases, and a bunch of suits over his arm. And three banker's boxes full of files and papers. He said he could bring the rest later. This time she had spent hours making more space for him. It still wasn't enough, considering what he'd brought, but it was an improvement. By Sunday night they were a happy couple, officially living together. His daughters were back in school. Mrs. Westerman had the apartment to herself, and Fifi ruled the roost. And in Fiona's house, she and John were comfortable and happy. Sir Winston even wagged his stubby little tail when he saw him. The transition had been surprisingly easy. Another chapter in their life had begun. Everything seemed to be moving very quickly.
Everything continued to go smoothly until Thanksgiving. Inevitably, the issue of the holidays came up, and John and his daughters got in a huge battle over whether or not Fiona would be allowed to join them. Both girls threatened not to come home if she was there. In deference to their family, Fiona insisted on bowing out, and after endless battles with his girls that got him nowhere, John reluctantly agreed to it. She was planning to have Thanksgiving at Adrian's with a large group of his friends, and she told John honestly that she preferred it. She couldn't think of anything more depressing than spending the holiday among people who didn't want her there. And even if John did, his daughters didn't. Not to mention Mrs. Westerman and Fifi. It was a stupid situation, but the best they could do at the moment. And John was deeply grateful for her understanding.
She had a good time with Adrian and their friends. And John had a solemn, lonely Thanksgiving with his two daughters, and the stern-faced housekeeper grimly serving dinner. The meal was anything but happy. And as he and Ann had both been only children, and had lost their parents when they were young, they had no other relatives to share it with them. The holiday only served to make the girls miss their mother more acutely. It was dismal. And at the end of the silent meal, John confronted them and told them that he was tired of their punishing him not only for their mother's death, but also for his relationship with Fiona.
“I'm not going to let you do this,” he said sternly, as both girls cried and told him they didn't want him to forget their mother.
“How can you even say that?” he said, looking offended. “I loved her. I still do. I always will. I could never forget her or the happy times we shared. But that doesn't mean I have to be alone for the rest of my life, to remember her better. You two are gone now, you're in college. I'm alone here. And I want to be with Fiona. She's a wonderful woman.”
“No, she's not,” Hilary spat at him. “She's never even been married or had children.”
“That doesn't make her a bad person. Maybe she didn't find the right man.”
“She was too busy working,” Courtenay added, as though they knew her, which they didn't. They had made every effort possible not to.
“That's no reason to punish her. Or me. And that's what you've both been doing. That's not fair to me.”
“Are you going to marry her?” Hilary asked, looking panicked. Fiona had been designated as the enemy, and they were determined to hate her, for no rational reason. They had never given her a chance, and they didn't intend to. But he had no intention of letting them run his life.
“I don't know,” their father said honestly. “I don't think she wants to get married. She likes her life the way it is. And maybe she's right. After the way you two have behaved, why would she want a family like us, or stepchildren like you? She's better off single.” They both looked faintly embarrassed. Hilary had admitted to one of her roommates the week before how rotten they'd been to her, and she was actually proud of it. Her sister was equally determined.
“We don't want her as a stepmother,” Hilary concluded.
“You could do a lot worse,” John said firmly. “A lot worse. She's a good woman. And it's not up to you. It's up to me. You're not children. You're nineteen and twenty-one. You don't get to act like this forever. If you want to, it's your business. But I'm not going to let you ruin my life.”
“We won't come home for holidays if you marry her,” Courtenay said petulantly, sounding like a five-year-old and not a sophomore at Princeton.
“I'm sorry to hear that. You might find yourself in slightly different circumstances,” he said, threatening them subtly, and they both got the message.
“Would you cut us off?” They were checking how far they could go, and as far as he was concerned, they had gone far enough. In fact, way too far.
“I wouldn't test those limits if I were you. I'd be very disappointed in you if you continued to behave this way, if Fiona and I got married.” What he said to them that night sent them scurrying back to the kitchen after dinner, for a consultation with Mrs. Westerman. It sounded like he was going to marry Fiona, from everything he'd said.
“We'd have her out of here in six months if he did,” Mrs. Westerman said confidently as the two girls listened. It sounded like a good plan to them. They liked the idea of getting rid of her in six months. At least they wouldn't be stuck with her forever, and they'd have their father to themselves again. It was all they wanted. If their mother wasn't alive, they didn't want anyone else to take her place. Ever.
“What if he fired you?” Courtenay asked, looking nervous. Other than their father, she was all they had now, and she knew it.
“Let him. I'd go back to North Dakota, and you could come and stay with me whenever you wanted.” She had some money saved, and she had inherited a small house there. He couldn't do anything to her. She had lost respect for him now anyway. She thought what he was doing with that woman just wasn't Christian.
“We don't want you to go away,” Hilary said unhappily. “We want you to stay forever.” But Mrs. Westerman herself knew that one day she would retire and go home. One of these days the girls would be grown up and married. They were already in college. It wouldn't be long now. And if she kept him from marrying that woman, at least she would have done her duty by the late Mrs. Anderson. She had made her that promise after she died, that she would keep him from defiling her memory, or doing anything foolish. She owed her that much. And she was going to do whatever it took to protect her. Ann Anderson had been such a good woman. And that other woman, the one he was chasing after and sleeping with and making a fool of himself with, well, whoever and whatever he thought she was, as far as Mrs. Westerman was concerned, she was no one. And as long as Rebecca Westerman was alive, Fiona would never get him. It was a solemn vow she had made and would keep no matter what.
Chapter 10
In spite of the strain between John and his daughters, things were remarkably peaceful between him and Fiona. Their adjustment to living together full time seemed effortless, and she tried to keep the chaos in her life down to a dull roar, so she didn't upset him. She tried to get Jamal to dress more respectably, and not run around the house vacuuming in harem pants and loincloths. And when people dropped by, as they had for years, she suggested that they call her first in future.
She staged no shoots in the house, didn't let it out as a backdrop, as she had before, and no longer allowed photographers from out of town to stay there. She was, if nothing else, trying to be respectful of John. He led a different life than hers, and she couldn't be quite as free and easy as she had been while living by herself. She had taken Adrian's advice, and she wanted John to be happy. The only place where she drew the line was over Sir Winston. She wouldn't have made any changes about the dog. He still slept on her bed, and was as spoiled as any child. But fortunately John had come to love him and found him funny. And she only had a tiny scar on her ankle, courtesy of Fifi. She had never gone to his apartment again. She found it depressing anyway. He only went there when one of his daughters came to town for the weekend, which was seldom. They were busy at school. And they never mentioned Fiona, nor did he. But he still thought it was a miserable situation, and wanted to change it. He just didn't know how to convince them, or win them over. Mrs. Westerman kept the embers hot and the fires burning, whenever she spoke to them. She reminded them that their first loyalty had to be to their mother. It was a vendetta Mrs. Westerman was hellbent on pursuing. And after her years of kindness and loyalty to them, and the girls' attachment to her, John didn't have the heart to send her back to North Dakota, although he would have liked to. And since the dog had been Ann's, he didn't have the heart to do anything about her either.