Page 83 of The Attic on Queen Street
“On loan? But who besides us would be interested in the Vanderhorst...?” I stopped. Felt my throat go dry.
He looked down at his phone again. “According to Mandy, it was someone who flashed his credentials as a movie director filming in the city and promised a walk-on role in return for a favor.”
Jack turned to me, his expression an odd mixture of disgust and what could have been amusement. “Marc,” we said in unison.
CHAPTER 23
I held up an adorable pink smocked dress with matching diaper cover to show Rebecca. We were at the children’s boutique Kids on King in my last-ditch effort to convince Rebecca that her baby shower should be a brunch affair in the garden with punch and tea sandwiches and lots of frilly pink clothes for her baby girl. And not the evening adult party with lingerie gifts that Rebecca envisioned.
“Thisis the sort of thing one receives at a baby shower,” I said. “I mean, you’ve been to a baby shower before, right?”
As usual, Rebecca was draped head to toe in mauve, her new shade of pink. She took the hanger from me and looked at the tiny dress for a brief moment before putting it back on the rack. “Of course I have. Tons. And when we met to discuss my shower, I thought that was what I wanted. But I’ve changed my mind. Those kinds of baby showers are for older mothers. Like you. I want something a little more... unique. Something younger. Besides, I want to be the one to plan what my child will be wearing—not something chosen by someone else.”
I let the insult about me being an “older mother” slide, and pulled out a white eyelet sleeper with a satin ribbon threaded through themiddle. “But that makes it special—remembering who bought what for your little one when you’re dressing her.”
Rebecca took the sleeper from my hand and put it back without even looking at it. “I’m sorry, Melanie. I’ve already made up my mind.” She patted her slightly rounded belly. “Besides, I’ve bought little Peanut here everything she will be wearing for her first year of life and really don’t need anything else. What I really need is some lingerie to spice things up in the bedroom.” Her eyes slid away and her shoulders slumped. “Come on. Let’s head to Victoria’s Secret since we’re downtown, but tomorrow let’s go to Mt. Pleasant. I adore Bits of Lace. They always have just the right thing. I can set up registries at both places.”
I followed her out of the door onto King Street’s crowded sidewalk. She walked fast for a small pregnant woman and I had to run to catch up to her. I grabbed her elbow, making her stop.
“What’s this all about?”
She avoided my eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I moved us against a storefront window to avoid the jostling of pedestrians. “You said you wanted to ‘spice things up in the bedroom.’ ” I leaned in closer so I could lower my voice. “Is Marc cheating on you again?” I’d tried to think of a more delicate way to say it, but Rebecca never understood nuance.
She pressed her hands against her mauve-draped belly. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes moistened with tears, the tip of her nose reddening. Eventually, she nodded. Just once, but it was enough.
Despite our somewhat mercurial relationship and the fact that she had willingly married Marc Longo, I felt sorry for her. I wished my mother or Jayne were with us. They were so much better at this than I was.
“Rebecca, sexy lingerie isn’t going to fix your marriage. You know that, right?”
She wrenched away from me. “How wouldyouknow how to fix a marriage? I don’t see you and Jack back together, do I?”
I held my breath, if only to prevent myself from saying the first thingthat came to mind, and instead summoned the new Melanie. “You’re right. Jack and I still have our problems. And you might not want to listen to me. What I do know is that Jack and I love each other despite everything and that we both want things to work out so that we end up together. I also know that neither one of us would ever turn to someone outside our marriage for... comfort. That’s not what a couple dedicated to their marriage does.”
With jerky movements, she yanked a pink tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “You don’t knowanything. I love Marc. And I know he loves me. It’s just that”—she looked down at her belly—“he doesn’t find me attractive right now. That’s why I need a sexy-lingerie shower.”
Not wanting to kick her while she was down, I didn’t mention that the first time Marc had cheated on her, she hadn’t been pregnant. I looked around and saw a group of tourists slowing to watch the spectacle of a pregnant woman breaking down on the sidewalk, so I gently took hold of Rebecca’s arm. I led her along the street to Charleston Place and a secluded bench in the lobby near a window. I smelled coffee from the nearby coffee shop, Community Perk, and knew I couldn’t get through my conversation with Rebecca without sustenance.
“I’m going to go grab myself a coffee—can I get you a decaf?”
She nodded. “And a fruit cup.”
I headed toward the café, but she called me back. “No, change that to a pastry. And a candy bar.”
I returned with two of everything, because I didn’t want Rebecca to eat alone.
I waited for her to take her first bite of croissant before I spoke. “I hate to be blunt, but somebody needs to be. If Marc were committed to you and your marriage, he wouldn’t be cheating on you.”
Tears filled her eyes again. “But who can blame him? I’m as big as a whale!”
I recalled how many times Jack had told me I was beautiful when I was pregnant with the twins, and I felt my own eyes begin to moisten. “First of all, you’re hardly showing. Your ankles aren’t even swollen.”
She looked down at my legs and nodded. “Thank goodness for that. I remember how huge yours were. Like watermelons. I guess I should be thankful that’s not hereditary, too.”
“Thanks for remembering,” I said. “But my point is that no matter what you look like, that’s no reason for Marc to be cheating. You’re carrying his baby. That alone should make you the most beautiful woman in the world to him.” I paused, trying to find a way to soften my words, but I realized being blunt was the only way to get the point across. “Rebecca, if Marc truly loved you, he would find everything he needs with you and your baby.”
Instead of more tears, a grim determination settled across her delicate features. “He’s just confused. That’s all. And the stress of the filming is just about killing him. Half of his film crew has quit, and several of the producers are threatening to pull out because of the delays this has caused.” She glared at me. “Don’t think that I don’t know you and Jack are behind all of it. We had a contract, remember?”
