What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(101)

“I don’t know what to say. It’s wonderful. I’m shocked. Thrilled.” She touched his hand. “You were brilliant that night we read Tree House, and I never told you. I guess you’re not the only one who’s been holding back. When do you audition? Tell me more.”

He did, summarizing the script and the character, telling her about his first class. As she witnessed his animation, she felt as though she were watching a man beginning to free himself from an emotional prison.

The conversation shifted to Laura. “I can’t blame her for hating me.” Georgie’s guilt reemerged. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but I wanted a clean start, and I didn’t see any other way.”

“You’re going to have a hard time believing this, but Laura seems to be okay with what you did. Don’t ask me to understand it. You’ve thrown a major monkey wrench into her income, but instead of being depressed, she’s—I don’t know—excited—energized—I’m not sure what to call it. She’s an unusual woman, a lot gutsier than I gave her credit for. She’s…interesting.”

Georgie looked at him sharply. He rose from the bench. Another awkward silence fell. He rested his hand on the side of a column. “Where do we go from here, Georgie? I’d like to be the father you want, but it seems a little late in the game. I don’t have a clue how to go about it.”

“Don’t look at me. I’m emotionally traumatized from all those beatings you gave me.” Once a smart aleck, always a smart aleck, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say except that she wanted him to hug her, just put his arms around her. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Unless you want to start off with some kind of lame hug.”

To her surprise, his eyes closed in pain. “I—don’t think I remember how.”

His total helplessness touched her. “Maybe you could give it a try.”

“Oh, Georgie…” His arms shot out. He pulled her against him and squeezed her so hard her ribs ached. “I love you so much.” He tucked her head against his jaw and started rocking her as if she were a child. It was clumsy, uncomfortable, and wonderful.

She burrowed into his shirt collar. This wasn’t easy for him or for her. She’d have to lead the way, but now that she understood where his heart lay, she didn’t mind at all.





Chapter 22




The gray stone Eldridge Mansion had served as the setting for a dozen movies and television shows, but no one had ever seen the portico with two canopied entryways. The larger and more ornate, a pristine white canopy marked THE SCOFIELDS, led to the main entrance. A smaller green canopy positioned off to the side was marked servants only.

The guests laughed as they emerged from their limos, Bentleys, and Porsches. In the spirit of the party, those garbed in gowns and tuxedos, tennis whites or Chanel suits, stuck their noses in the air and headed for the main entrance, but Jack Patriot was no dummy. The legendary rock star, wearing his most comfortable jeans and a work shirt, with a pair of gardening gloves and some seed packets tucked in his belt, cheerfully made his way to the servants’ entrance, his wife at his side. April’s simple black housekeeper’s dress would have been plain if she hadn’t modified it for the occasion with a boned bodice and plunging neckline. A pair of skeleton keys dangling from a black silk cord nestled into her cleavage, and she’d pulled her long blond hair into a soft and very sexy bun.

Rory Keene, in a modest version of a French maid’s costume, joined Jack and April at the servants’ entrance along with Rory’s date for the evening, a debonair venture capitalist attired in a butler’s uniform. He was Rory’s customary companion for special occasions, a friend but not a lover.

Meg’s parents used the main entrance. Actor-playwright Jake Koranda wore a garden-party white suit that accented his swarthy skin, and his wife, the glorious Fleur Savagar Koranda, modeled a swirly floral chiffon frock. Meg, who was dressed as Scooter’s hippie best friend, Zoey, elected to go through the servants’ entrance with her date for the evening, an unemployed musician who was a ringer for John Lennon, circa 1970.

Chaz stood just inside the ballroom, wondering why she’d let Georgie choose her costume. Now here she was, dressed like a frigging angel, in a glittery silver gown with a halo attached to a big orange wig. If she lifted her eyes, she could even see a few orange curls dripping over her eyebrows. The inspiration had come from episode thirteen, “Skip Has a Dream.” When Chaz had bitched to Georgie about the costume, Georgie had given her this weird smile and said Chaz was an angel in disguise. What the hell did that mean?

She was supposed to be helping Poopy the Party Planner make sure everything was running smoothly, but she’d mainly been gaping at all the stars who’d showed up. According to Poopy, this was the most important party of the summer, and a bunch of celebrities that Bram and Georgie didn’t even know had begged for invitations. Georgie kept telling Poopy, “No purse designers,” which Chaz hadn’t understood until Georgie explained it, and then Chaz had to agree.

The ballroom’s polished walnut moldings and paneled wooden ceiling gleamed in the light of the crystal chandeliers. Lavender-and-blue-plaid taffeta overskirts topped the round, custard-yellow tablecloths. Blue mop-top hydrangeas inspired by the show’s opening credits served as centerpieces, the bouquets spilling from bright yellow teapots. A spun sugar model of the Scofield mansion rested at each place setting, along with a silver picture frame holding an engraved menu bearing both the Scofield family crest and a small paw print of Butterscotch, Scooter’s cat. Four large television screens set up around the room silently ran episodes of the show.