A Very Exclusive Engagement(42)

It took several minutes and several sips before Ariella finally opened up. She set the glass on the coffee table and reached into her purse. Pulling out an ivory envelope, she handed it over to Francesca to read the contents.

Francesca quickly scanned over the letter, not quite sure if what she was reading could possibly be true.

“It’s from my birth mother, Eleanor Albert,” Ariella said after a moment, confirming the unbelievable thoughts Francesca was already having.

The letter didn’t give many details. It was short and sweet, basically asking if Ariella would be willing to write her back and possibly meet when she was ready. There was nothing about the circumstances of the adoption, the president or where Eleanor had been the past twenty-five years. Nothing about the letter screamed authenticity aside from a curious address in Ireland where she was to write back.

“When did you get this?”

“It came yesterday afternoon. To my home address, which is private and almost no one knows. Most of my mail goes to the office. I must’ve read it a million times last night. I couldn’t sleep.” Despite her weary expression, there was a touch of excitement in Ariella’s voice. She’d waited so long to find out about her birth mother. Yet she seemed hesitant about uncovering the truth.

Francesca understood. The truth wasn’t always pretty. People didn’t always live up to the fantasy you built up in your mind. Right now, Ariella’s mother was like Schrödinger’s cat. Until she opened that box, Eleanor would remain both the fantasy mother Ariella had always imagined and the selfish, uncaring woman she’d feared. Was it better to fantasize or to know for certain?

Francesca looked at the envelope and shook her head. After everything that had happened in the past few months, she’d grown very suspicious and protective where Ariella was concerned. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if a journalist was posing as her mother to get details for a story. But she hesitated to say it out loud. She didn’t want to be the one to burst the small, tentative bubble building inside her friend.

“Go ahead and say it,” Ariella urged.

Francesca frowned and handed the letter back over to her. “I’m excited for you. I know that not knowing about your birth parents has been like a missing puzzle piece in your life, even before the news about the president hit. This could be a step in the right direction for you. I hope it is. Just be careful about what you say until you’re certain she’s really your mother. And even then, you can’t be sure she won’t go to the press with her story if someone offers her money.”

Ariella nodded, tucking the letter back in her purse. “I thought the same thing. I’m going to respond, but I’m definitely going to proceed with caution. I don’t want to be the victim of a ruthless journalist.”

“I’m sure the letter is real, but it can’t hurt to be careful.”

Ariella reached for her wineglass and then paused to look around the living room. “What’s going on here?”

“I’m packing.”

Ariella’s nose wrinkled as she eyed the boxes stacked around. Her mind must’ve been too wrapped up in the letter to notice the mess before. “You’re moving in with Liam? So soon?” she added.

“Yes.”

“Wow,” she said with a shake of her head. “You two certainly don’t move slowly. Next thing you’ll be telling me you’re getting married next weekend.”

Francesca bit her lip, not quite sure what to say to that.

Ariella’s head snapped toward Francesca, her green eyes wide. “Tell me you’re not getting married in a week and a half. Francesca?”

“We’re not,” she assured her. “We’re getting married Friday.”

Ariella swallowed a large sip of wine before she could spit it out. “It’s Tuesday.”

“I know.”

“What is the rush with you two? Does one of you have an incurable disease?”

“Liam and I are both perfectly healthy.” Francesca wasn’t about to mention his aunt’s incurable disease. That would lead to more questions than she wanted to answer. “We’ve just decided there is no sense in waiting. We’re in love and we want to get married as soon as possible.”

With a sigh, Ariella flopped back into her chair. “Scarlet is going to have a fit. Putting together a wedding in three days will be a nightmare.”

“We have a venue,” Francesca offered. She loved how she didn’t even need to ask her friend if she would do the wedding. It was a foregone conclusion. Francesca wouldn’t dare ask someone else. “The Four Seasons. We’ve reserved the terrace for the ceremony and the ballroom for the reception.”