“Nine years is hardly that much of a difference. This is a weak excuse and unworthy of you. I do happen to look young for my age, but I can assure you I’m twenty-eight, and James is only thirty-seven.”
“There’s also the fact that you’re a showgirl.”
“I’m an actress and singer,” she countered. “Since I worked at Disneyland, I hardly think you can fault my morals.”
“Morals is another issue entirely.”
“Obviously,” she said, finding she disliked this man more every time he opened his mouth. It seemed to her that Ralph Southworth was inventing excuses, none of which amounted to anything solid.
“You’re pregnant.”
“Yes. So?”
“So…it’s clear to me, at least, that you and James conveniently decided to marry when you recognized your condition.”
Summer laughed. “That’s not true, and even if it were, all I need to do is produce our marriage certificate, which I just happen to have with me.” Somehow or other she knew it would come down to this. She opened her purse and removed the envelope, then handed it to the man whom her husband had once considered his friend.
Southworth read it over and returned it to her. “I don’t understand why the two of you did this. No one meets in Vegas, falls in love and gets married within a few days. Not unless they’ve got something to hide.”
“We’re in love.” She started to explain that she and James had known each other for a year, but Ralph cut her off.
“Please, Mrs. Wilkens! I’ve known James for at least a decade. There had to be a reason other than the one you’re giving me.”
“He loves me. Isn’t that good enough for you?”
Southworth seemed bored with the conversation. “Then there’s the fact that he kept the marriage a secret.”
Summer had no answer to that. “I don’t really know why James didn’t tell anyone about the wedding,” she admitted. “My guess is that it’s because he’s a private man and considers his personal life his own.”
“How far along is the pregnancy?” he asked, ignoring her answer.
“Three months,” she told him.
“Three months? I don’t claim to know much about women and babies, but I’ve had quite a few women work for me at the bank over the years. A number of them have had babies. You look easily five or six months.”
“That’s ridiculous! I know when I got pregnant.”
“Do you, now?”
Summer drew in her breath and held it for a moment in an effort to contain her outrage. She loved James and believed in him, but she refused to be insulted.
“I can see we aren’t going to accomplish anything here,” she said sadly. “You’ve already formed your opinion about James and me.”
“About you, Mrs. Wilkens. It’s unfortunate. James would’ve made an excellent superior court judge. But there’s been far too much speculation about him lately. It started with the black eye. People don’t want a man on the bench who can’t hold on to his own temper. A judge should be above any hint of moral weakness.”
“James is one of the most morally upright men I know,” she said heatedly. “I take your comments as a personal insult to my husband.”
“I find your loyalty to James touching, but it’s too little, too late.”
“What do you mean by that?” Summer demanded.
“You want your husband to win the election, don’t you?”
“Yes. Of course.” The question was ludicrous.
“If I were to tell you that you could make a difference, perhaps even sway the election, would you listen?”
“I’d listen,” she said, although anything beyond listening was another matter.
Southworth stood and walked over to the window, which offered a panoramic view of the Seattle skyline. His back was to her and for several minutes he said nothing. He seemed to be weighing his words.
“You’ve already admitted I’m the best man to run James’s campaign.”
“Yes,” she said reluctantly, not as willing to acknowledge it as she had been when she’d first arrived.
“I can help win him this September’s primary and the November election. Don’t discount the political sway I have in this community, Mrs. Wilkens.”
Summer said nothing.
“When James first told me he’d married you, I suggested he keep you out of the picture until after the election.”
“I see.”
“I did this for a number of reasons, all of which James disregarded.”
“He…he really didn’t have much choice,” she felt obliged to tell him. “I turned up on his doorstep, suitcase in hand.”
Ralph nodded as if he’d suspected this had been the case. “I can turn James’s campaign around if you’ll agree to one thing.”
Her stomach tightened, knowing before the words were out what he was going to say. “Yes?”
“Simply disappear for several months. Stay away from Seattle, and once the November election is over, you can move back into his house. It won’t matter then.”
She closed her eyes and lowered her head. “I see.”
“Will you do it?”
“Summer, I’m sorry I’m late.” James kissed her soundly and rushed up the stairs to change clothes.
He was late? She hadn’t noticed. Since her meeting with Ralph Southworth, Summer had spent what remained of the afternoon in a stupor. She felt numb and sad. Tears lay just beneath the surface, ready to break free.
This decision should’ve been far less difficult. She could give her husband the dream he’d always wanted or ruin his life.
Five minutes later James was back. He’d changed out of his suit and tie and wore slacks and a shirt and sweater. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“For what?”
“Dinner tonight with the Mannings. Remember?”
“Of course,” she said, forcing a smile. How could she have forgotten that? James was like a schoolboy eager to show off his science project. Only in this case, she was the project. She still wore her gray suit, so after quickly brushing her hair and refreshing her makeup, she considered herself ready—in appearance if not in attitude.
He escorted her out the front door and into his car, which he’d parked in front of the house. “You haven’t had much campaigning to do lately,” she commented.
“I know.”
“What does Ralph have to say?” she asked, wanting to see how much James was willing to tell her.
“Not much. Let’s not talk about the election tonight, okay?”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to have to think about it. These people are my friends. They’re like a second set of parents to me.”
“Do they know I’m pregnant?”
“No, but I won’t need to tell them, will I?” He gently patted her abdomen.
“James,” she whispered. “When we get home this evening, I want to make love.”
His gaze briefly left the road and he nodded.
The emptiness inside her could only be filled with his love.
“Are you feeling all right?”
She made herself smile and laid her head against his shoulder. “Of course.”
“There’s something different about you.”
“Is there?” Just that her heart felt as if it had been chopped in half. Just that she’d never felt so cold or alone in her life. Southworth had asked her to turn her back on the man she loved. He’d asked that she leave and do it in such a way that he wouldn’t follow. He’d asked that she bear her child alone.
When they got to the Manning home, James parked his car on the street and turned to Summer. He studied her for an intense moment. “I love you.”
“I love you,” she whispered in return. She felt close to tears.
James helped her out of the car. They walked to the front porch, and he rang the doorbell. When she wasn’t looking, he stole a kiss.
A distinguished older gentleman opened the door for them. “James! It’s good to see you again.”
“Eric, this is my wife, Summer.”
“Hello, Summer.” Instead of shaking her hand, Eric Manning hugged her.
They stepped inside, and all at once, from behind every conceivable hiding space, people leapt out.
They were greeted with an unanimous chorus of “Surprise!”
Eleven
Summer didn’t understand what was happening. A large number of strange people surrounded her. People with happy faces, people who seemed delighted to be meeting her.
“Elizabeth,” James protested. “What have you done?”
The middle-aged woman hugged first James and then Summer. “You know how much I love a party,” she told him, grinning broadly. “What better excuse than to meet your wife? I’m the mother of this brood,” she told Summer proudly, gesturing around the room. There were men, women and children milling about. “You must be Summer.”
“I am. You must be Elizabeth.”
“Indeed I am.”
Before she could protest, Summer was lured away from James’s side. The men appeared eager to talk to James by himself. Summer looked longingly at her husband. He met her eyes, then shrugged and followed his friends into the family room.
Soon Summer found herself in the kitchen, which bustled with activity. “I’m Jamie. We met the other day in the restaurant,” Rich’s wife reminded her.
“I remember,” Summer told her, stepping aside as a youngster raced past her at breakneck speed.
“These two women with the curious looks on their faces are my sisters-in-law. The first one here,” Jamie said, looping her arm around the woman who was obviously pregnant, “is Charlotte. She’s married to Jason. He’s the slob of the family.”
“But he’s improving,” Charlotte told her.
“When’s your baby due?”
“July,” Charlotte said. “This is our second. Doug’s asleep. I also have a daughter from my first marriage, but Carrie’s working and couldn’t be here. I’m sure you’ll get a chance to meet her later.”
“Our baby’s due in September,” Summer said, ending speculation.
The women exchanged glances. “You’re just three months pregnant?”
Miserable, Summer nodded. “I think something must be wrong. The first couple of months I was really sick. I’m much better now that I’m in Seattle with James. But I’m ballooning. Hardly any of my clothes fit anymore.”
“It happens like that sometimes,” Elizabeth said with the voice of experience. “I wonder…” Then she shook her head. “I showed far more with Paul, my first, than I did with Christy, my youngest. Don’t ask me why nature plays these silly tricks on us. You’d think we have enough to put up with, dealing with men.”
A chorus of agreement broke out.
Elizabeth took the hors d’oeuvre platter out of the refrigerator. “The good news is I was blessed with three sons. The bad news is I was blessed with three sons.” She laughed. “My daughters are an entirely different story.”