“If you call a plumber at Marisol,” Jimmy warned him with a grin, “my mother will have a fit. She thinks it's part of the charm, along with the roof that leaks, and the shutters that fall off. I damn near broke my leg last year when the south porch caved in. My mother loves fixing the place up herself.”
“I can hardly wait,” Coop groaned. But he already knew he loved the place. He had fallen in love with it when her mother had invited him there. It seemed to go on forever, with houses and boathouses and guest houses, and a barn full of antique cars he could have spent the entire weekend in. It was one of the most famous houses in the East. The Kennedys had often visited there when they were in residence at Hyannis Port, and the President had stayed there. Coop was still shaking his head when the others left.
“Don't ever lie to me again,” he scolded Valerie.
“I didn't. I was being discreet,” she said, looking demure, with a decided look of mischief in her eye.
“A little too discreet perhaps?” he said, smiling at her. In a way, he was glad he hadn't known before. It was better like this.
“One can never be too discreet,” she said primly. But he loved that about her. He loved her elegance and her simplicity. It explained the distinction he had felt. She was an undeniable aristocrat even in white shirt and jeans. And suddenly he realized what it meant for Alex too. Jimmy was exactly the man she needed, he was part of her world, and at the same time, as much of a renegade as she. Even Arthur Madison couldn't object to him. And suddenly Coop felt pleased. Things had worked out exactly as they were meant to. Not only for him, but for her too. Even if she didn't know it yet, she was on the right track. And as Valerie cleared the table, and put the dishes in the dishwasher, Coop glanced at her.
“Does Alex know?”
“Knowing Jimmy, probably not.” Valerie smiled at him. “It matters even less to him than it does to me.” It didn't matter to them because it was part of them, right down to their bones. They hadn't made it up, or invented it, or acquired it, or married it. They were born to it, so they could live any way they chose. Richly, or poorly, or quietly or noisily. It was entirely up to them. And Alex was cut from the same cloth. It meant nothing to her, and she liked living as though she were poor.
“How do I fit into all that?” Coop asked Valerie honestly, pulling her close to him. She really was the woman of his life, whether she knew it yet or not. But he was determined to convince her of it eventually. Not for the money, but simply because of who she was and what she meant to him.
“You fit into it very comfortably, I suspect. You're used to all that. In fact, we might not be quite elegant enough for you.” He had lived very well for a very long time. In fact, he was very spoiled. And now, with the movie he'd just landed, he could afford to indulge himself, and her. And he had every intention of doing just that.
“I'll adjust,” he said, laughing at her. “I can see I have my work cut out for me. I'm going to spend all my money repairing your old house.”
“Don't,” she smiled, “I like it the way it is, falling apart and crumbling, with things falling down all over the place. It has charm that way.”
“So do you,” he said, holding her tight, “and you're not falling down or crumbling.” But he knew that when she did, he would still love her. And he was likely to crumble first, because he was, after all, seventeen years older than she. She was in fact a younger woman, and a very wealthy woman. But not too young. And no matter how rich she was, he no longer cared, because he had money of his own. It had taken a Westerfield to bring him down, and capture him. But the job had been done at last, and done well.
“Will you marry me?” he asked her, as Jimmy tiptoed softly upstairs, smiling to himself. It was funny how much better he liked Coop now, now that Alex wasn't involved with him. He was beginning to think he was a pretty good guy.
“Eventually, I suspect,” Valerie answered him with a smile. He kissed her then, and then he left the house. They were leaving at the crack of dawn the next day.
The driver took them to the airport in the Bentley the next morning. Coop had four suitcases with him, and he'd had a hard time getting it down to that. But he was going on to Europe afterwards. Valerie only had one. But she had packed in a hurry when she left.
Coop had said goodbye to Taryn when he left the house. And Valerie hugged Jimmy tight, and then kissed him and told him to take care at least ten times.
“Take good care of yourself, Jimmy,” she said and then both men hurried her out the door so they didn't miss the plane.
They left for the airport in high spirits, and both of them slept on the plane. And when they woke up, they were nearly there. She told him some of the history he didn't know about the house. It fascinated him and he couldn't wait to see it again, and share it with her. As he remembered it, it was an elegant, charming, romantic old estate, with exquisite grounds.
He rented a car at the Boston airport, and they drove slowly up the Cape. And when they got there, Marisol was exactly as he remembered it, only better now. Because he was there with her.
He helped her hammer things, and fix screens, and repair wicker furniture. They were there for three weeks, and he'd never been happier, although he'd never worked as hard in his life. But he loved doing it with her, and she worked as hard as he. She always had a hammer and nails in her pocket, and a swipe of paint somewhere on her face. He loved her and every minute that they shared.
On Labor Day weekend, they flew to London and spent three weeks there. He went straight from there to New York to start working on his movie. And Valerie went back to Boston for a few days and then joined him in New York. They lived at the Plaza for the duration of his location shoot. And she flew back to California with him just before Thanksgiving. Taryn and Mark were married by then. They had gotten married at Lake Tahoe with only Jason and Jessica with them the week before. There was much to celebrate. Alex and Jimmy were living at the gatehouse by then. She had turned his bedroom into a laundry basket, and given up her studio. She had almost finished her residency, and been promised a permanent position on staff as a neonatologist at UCLA. She and Jimmy were talking about getting married. But he hadn't met Arthur yet.
Coop had them all for Thanksgiving dinner, even Alex, and it was easy to see how happy she and Jimmy were. Wolfgang sent over a turkey, which Paloma served wearing the leopard sneakers which she wore with a new pink uniform. The rhinestone glasses had been retired for the winter months, and much to everyone's relief, she liked Valerie. A lot. And Valerie liked her.
The tabloids carried the story the week before Christmas. As did People magazine, Time, Newsweek, the respectable newspapers and wire services, and CNN. The headlines were pretty much the same everywhere, WIDOWED EASTERN HEIRESS MARRIES MOVIE STAR. Others gave him top billing, COOPER WINSLOW MARRIES WESTERFIELD HEIRESS. In either case, the photographs showed them both happy and smiling at a small reception they gave. His press agent delivered the photographs to the press. And the following day, Valerie came down the stairs from his bedroom with an armful of towels she'd found in the linen closet.
“This works out really well, Coop,” she said distractedly. He had a week off before he started shooting again in LA, and he was trying to talk her into going to Saint Moritz for the week, but so far she didn't seem interested. She was happy at home with him, and so was he. More than he'd ever been.