Mom, Dad, Van, and I sat as Skylar, still wearing his overcoat, walked to the tall windows. The bay beyond was veiled in darkness, yet the scene seemed to hold his attention. I had a sudden memory of the smudge that Margaret had found so unusual, and in a childish way, I wished for its reappearance, right where Skylar was standing.
“This recent change in plans came suddenly,” Mom said.
I sat taller. “Skylar’s impending parenthood—is that what you’re talking about?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Skylar turn. His voice boomed throughout the open space. “She lied, Julia. Beth isn’t pregnant.”
I knew that wasn’t true from my conversation with Vicki. Or at least I knew Beth had been pregnant. Her current status wasn’t my concern.
“The cancellation of the wedding wasn’t sudden,” I said, speaking to both of them. “It was overdue.”
“Your mother means,” Dad offered, “what is happening here.”
Turning to Van, I took in his confident grin. In that second, I saw the man he told me he could be. I saw the qualities in his eyes. Van would let me handle this, he’d encouraged me to handle this, yet at no time was he unprepared. There was a calm calculation in his expression. He may have been surprised by Skylar’s presence, but he was nonetheless equipped to handle wherever this discussion went.
If I were to guess, I’d say that Van was prepared before he offered the invitation for their arrival.
Who I currently saw was the man whose memoir I had been hired to write. He was the wolf on Wall Street, the predator who seeks out wounded companies and businesses, and the man at the top who alone determines the fate of those within his sights.
“What is happening here,” I offered, sitting near the edge of the leather chair, “is cosmic irony. I came to Ashland without knowing the identity of the man advertising for someone to pen his memoir. I didn’t expect to end up in a blizzard or a snowbank. I certainly didn’t know who rescued me.”
“Or where the white ribbon would lead,” Van added.
Seemingly ignoring Van’s comment, my mother pleaded, “Julia, Skylar asked to come with us to apologize to you in person and explain that Beth isn’t carrying his child.”
I shook my head. “Thank you, Mom.”
“For?”
“For speaking for Skylar. I’ve noticed his inability to say more than a few words since his arrival. He’s fortunate to have you here to articulate his feelings.”
“I-I’m not—”
“Oh, but you are.” I stood. “It’s what you do. You probably have already conveyed my feelings in return. However, you forgot to ask me what they are. Tell me, am I willing to listen to his apology for sleeping with my best friend?” Before she could respond, I went on, “My thoughts regarding Beth’s pregnancy state is that regardless of her current status or” —I turned toward Skylar— “the accuracy of the text message I read, it doesn’t matter.”
“Right,” Mom said. “It doesn’t. You have a life in Chicago, not here in this godforsaken wilderness.”
I suppressed a smile, thinking of the cabin. Van’s home wasn’t a godforsaken wilderness. If only my mother could see the cabin. My attention stayed on my mother. “No,” I said matter-of-factly. “What doesn’t matter is Beth’s pregnancy status or what it was. It matters that she claimed Skylar was the father and he didn’t deny the possibility.” I turned to my ex-fiancé. “If returning the engagement ring and our subsequent conversation at the hotel didn’t make it clear enough for you, I don’t accept your apology. We can’t work this out.”
“You don’t know the truth about him,” Skylar said, his chin pointing toward Van.
Shaking my head at his pathetic attempt to attribute blame, I looked at Mom. “You said there’s more to marriage than love. You’re right. There’s trust and fidelity. I won’t walk into a marriage without those fundamental elements.”
“And yet,” Mother replied, “you agreed to marry Mr. Sherman.”
Van was sitting back, with his ankle resting on one knee. His eyes moved from Mother to me and back as if he were watching a tennis match, waiting for the game-winning point to be scored.
“Yes, I did.”
“When?” Dad asked.
“We haven’t set a date.”
“So you plan to live here in sin?” Mother asked.
Red sin.
I didn’t try to hide my smile. “I have my own suite.”