Page 49 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)
Tom
Third try, still lopsided.
Tying a bow tie never went well for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the dexterity; he was an architect, after all, and he hadn’t always had a staff of model builders and the best CAD systems available. He used to have to do those things himself, by hand. His X-acto knife skills were legendary.
Many women , he thought defensively, have complimented me on my fine motor skills. So…
No, it was something about having to complete the task while looking in the mirror that threw him. He considered calling his mother to come and help, but that seemed childish, so he struggled on.
When he heard the buzz of a text, he welcomed the chance to drop the slippery silk ends of the tie and pick up the phone instead.
Hello darling just arrived for ceremony but apparently I am rather early. Do you need help tying your tie?
Mothers.
Perfectly capable of doing it myself, he typed. But thank you.
Nonsense I’ll be right up, she responded. What is your room number?
He sent it, then went back to the bedroom to tidy up. Architects tend toward the fastidious, and he’d only been there for one night, so it didn’t take long. Eventually, there was a light tap on the door.
“Hello, Mum,” he greeted her, kissing both cheeks and inhaling the Calèche perfume she always wore.
“I was right,” she said in a satisfied voice. “You couldn’t manage it.”
“Of course I could. I just haven’t got around to it yet. Watch me.”
“Oh, let me do it,” she said, reaching up. “A woman likes to tie a man’s tie once in a while. Especially when that man was once her little boy.”
“By the time I needed a bow tie, I was at boarding school and you were skiing at Chamonix or someplace.”
“I distinctly remember tying your tie. Don’t be such a grump. There, all done.”
“Well, thank you. Certainly a better job than I would have done. Would you like to sit down?”
“Oh, no, I’m sure you’re supposed to be with Charlie now. I just wanted to say hello. It’s been quite a while.”
“Yes, last Christmas, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Phone calls just aren’t the same as an actual conversation. Not that you take half my calls. No one is that busy, Tom. Your assistant sounds embarrassed on your behalf for turning me away.”
He chose not to mention Thea.
“We’re trying to get the Boston office profitable, I work long hours. And I’m still trying to settle in there.”
“Are you meeting people? Making friends?”
He nodded, absorbed in being sure he had what he needed for the wedding: a credit card, some cash, the key card to the room. The notes for his speech.
“Have you met anyone… special?”
“No. I told you, I’m very busy with work.”
Was he lying to his mother? Lie is a very strong word , he thought distractedly. The main thing he needed to do was move the conversation well away from this line of questioning, immediately. He tried, and failed, to think of a safer topic.
"How’s Hugh?" No. Hugh Cunningham-Bowles was her companion of the past five years, but they had recently parted ways.
“Weren’t you in Palm Beach last month?” No. Well, yes, she was in Palm Beach for the polo matches, but that was where Hugh–a polo player–had dumped her.
“Where are you headed after this weekend?” Absolutely no. One very possible response to that was, “I have no real plans, thought I might pop up to Boston and help you decorate your new place.” No, no, no.
At last he hit on it:
“Lovely dress, Mum, you look thirty again.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Hugh’s new girlfriend–she’s thirty. If I really looked thirty, he wouldn’t have left me. Do you think perhaps a neck lift? I’ve had a few little nips and tucks but it might be time for something more serious. I’ve heard there’s a wonderful clinic in Lausanne…”
“Mum, no. You’re a beautiful woman and you’ve led an interesting life–that’s what matters. You don’t want to be one of those women who are too puffy in some places and too tight in others. Helen Mirren says she regrets having had work done.”
“I don’t know…” she answered doubtfully. The full-length mirror was behind her and she took a step closer to it, lifting her chin and pulling her shoulders back.
“There, you see? Much better than surgery or injections or any of that ridiculous stuff. Hugh’s an ass.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Absolutely. I’m so sorry, Mum, but I really do need to go find Chunk. Poor bloke is getting married in two hours, he must need my support.”
“ Your support?” She laughed, but not unkindly. “What would you know about making a life-long commitment? Have you ever been with anyone for more than six months?”
“Of course I have! There was… well, not her, but what about…” He trailed off. “It’s never me who ends it, you know. They just don’t seem to take me seriously. I can’t explain it.”
“I can! You never date anyone your own age–of course they don’t take your interest seriously! You’re brilliant and handsome and talented, and sooner or later you will meet someone appropriate and marry her and have six adorable babies. The women you date know that.”
“I don’t want to marry someone ‘appropriate’ and I don’t care if I have babies or not! That’s not what matters to me!”
“It will. It mattered to Hugh, apparently.” She looked so sad that he regretted the whole conversation.
“Look here, Mum. I have met someone special.”
“You–you have?”
“Yes, and she’s actually here for the wedding.”
“Darling, that’s wonderful news! I can’t wait to meet her! Is she American? What’s her name?”
“She’s American and her name is Ranney, but it’s not quite as simple as it might sound. I–”
His phone rang, startling them both.
“Hello, Chunk.” He listened for a second. “Yes, I’m with Mum but she’s just leaving and I’m on my way… Yes, I know. Sorry. On my way.”
“I know you’ve got to go, but I’m thrilled for you, Tom.
” They were still standing in the little vestibule, and now she peered around him, trying to see into the room.
“Is she staying here with you? I’ll just run down to the reception tent and move our place cards.
I want to sit with her at dinner and get to know her a bit.
You’ll be seated with the wedding party, so I’m sure she’ll be grateful to have someone to talk to.
It’s the perfect opportunity to get to know each other!
And a wedding is such a romantic setting! What’s her last name?”
“Mum, I told you, it’s not that simple–rather complicated, actually. Please don’t–” His phone rang again.
“Yes, on my way! Yes–tequila? Really? Right, when in Rome. On my way.” He opened the door and gestured toward the hallway. “I’ll walk you to the elevator, Mum, but I really have to go join them.”
“Of course you do. We can talk later, the three of us, although I suppose that won’t be easy with all these people, and the music.
” She bit her lip, obviously thinking. “I know what to do, I’ll change my flight so we can spend time together tomorrow.
Maybe dinner? I’ll make a reservation. Bye, darling.
” She stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Don’t worry about me finding her, I’ll bet I can pick her out of the crowd! ”
I’ll bet you can’t , he thought as she vanished into the elevator. He’d never had a migraine before, but he suspected he might be feeling the twinges of his first one.
Tequila, that was the ticket.