Daring to Dream, Page 2

  "Crying again?"

  "Mothers cry on their daughters' wedding day because they know what they're getting into."

  He grinned and held out a hand. "You'd make an interesting bride, duchess."

  She took his hand. Their fingers had twined hundreds of times over their years together. This was no different. "Is that a compliment?"

  "An observation." He led her into the parlor, where silver candlesticks held slim white tapers and sumptuous arrangements of flowers were decked. Jasmine, roses, gardenias. All white on white and heady with scent in the room where sunlight streamed through high, arched windows.

  There were silver-framed photos on the mantel. She was there, Margo thought, accepted as part of the family. On the piano sat the Waterford compote that she had recklessly spent her savings on for the Templetons' twenty-fifth anniversary.

  She tried to take it in, every piece of it. The soft colors of the Aubusson carpet, the delicate carving on the legs of the Queen Anne chairs, the intricate marquetry on the music cabinet.

  "It's so beautiful," she murmured.

  "Hmm?" He was busy tearing the foil off a bottle of champagne he'd snatched from the kitchen.

  "The house. It's so beautiful."

  "Annie's outdone herself," he said, referring to Margo's mother. "Should be a hell of a wedding."

  It was his tone that drew her gaze back to him. She knew him so well, every nuance of expression, every subtle tone of voice. "You don't like Peter."

  Josh shrugged, uncorked the bottle with an expert press of I thumb. "I'm not marrying Ridgeway, Laura is."

  She grinned at him. "I can't stand him. Stuffy, superior snot."

  He grinned back at her, at ease again. "We usually agree on people, if little else."

  Because he hated it, she patted his cheek. "We'd probably agree on more if you didn't enjoy picking on me so much."

  "It's my job to pick on you." He snagged her wrist, annoying her. "You'd feel neglected if I didn't."

  "You're even more revolting now that you've got a degree from Harvard." She picked up a glass. "At least pretend you're a gentleman. Pour me some." When he studied her, she rolled her eyes. "For Christ's sake, Josh, I'm eighteen. If Laura's old enough to get married to that jerk, I'm old enough to drink champagne."

  "One," he said, the dutiful older brother. "I don't want you weaving down the aisle later." He noted with amused frustration that she looked as though she'd been born with a champagne flute in her hands. And men at her feet.

  "I suppose we should drink to the bride and groom." She pursed her lips as she studied the bubbles rising so frothily in her glass. "But I'm afraid I'll choke, and I hate to waste this." She winced, lowered the glass. "That's so damn mean. I hate being mean, but I can't seem to help it."

  "It's not mean, it's honest." He moved a shoulder. "We might as well be mean and honest together. To Laura, then. I hope to hell she knows what she's doing."

  "She loves him." Margo sipped and decided that cham pagne would be her signature drink. "God knows why, or why she thinks she has to marry him just to sleep with him."

  "Nice talk."

  "Well, be realistic." She wandered to the garden door, sighed. "Sex is a stupid reason to get married. The fact is, I can't think of a single good one. Of course, Laura isn't marrying Peter just for sex." Impatient, she tapped her fingers against the glass, listened to the ring. "She's too romantic. He's older, more experienced, charming if you like that sort. And of course, he's in the business, so he can slip right into the Templeton empire and reign right here so she can stay at the house, or choose something close by. It's probably perfect for her."

  "Don't start crying."

  "I'm not, not really." But she was comforted by the hand he laid on her shoulder, and she leaned into him. "I'm just going to miss her so much."

  "They'll be back in a month."

  "I'm not going to be here." She hadn't meant to say it, not to him, and now she turned quickly. "Don't say anything to anyone. I need to tell everyone myself."

  "Tell them what?" He didn't like the clutching feeling in his stomach. "Where the hell are you going?''

  "To L.A. Tonight."

  Just like her, he mused and shook his head. "What wild hair is this, Margo?"

  "It's not a wild hair. I've thought about it a lot." She sipped again, wandered away from him. It was easier to be clear when she couldn't lean on him. "I have to start my life. I can't stay here forever."

  "College—"

  "That's not for me." Her eyes lit, the cold blue fire at the center of a flame. She was going to take something for herself. And if it was selfish, then by God, so be it. "That's what Mum wants, not what I want. And I can't keep living here, the housekeeper's daughter."

  "Don't be ridiculous." He could brush that off like a stray mote of lint. "You're family."

  She couldn't dispute that, and yet… "I want to start my life," she said stubbornly. "You've started yours. You're going to law school, Kate's going off to Harvard a full year early, thanks to her busy little brain. Laura's getting married."

  Now he had it, and sneered at her. "You're feeling sorry for yourself."

  "Maybe I am. What's wrong with that?" She poured more champagne into her glass, defying him. "Why is it such a sin to feel a little self-pity when everyone you care about is doing something they want and you're not? Well, I'm going to do something I want."

  "Go to L.A. and what?"

  "I'm going to get a job." She sipped again, seeing it, seeing herself, perfectly. Centered in the light of excitement. "I'm going to model. My face is going to be on the cover of every important magazine there is."

  She had the face for it, he thought. And the body. They were killers. Criminally stunning. "And that's an ambition?" he said, with a half laugh. "Having your picture taken?"

  She lifted her chin and seared him with a look. "I'm going to be rich, and famous, and happy. And I'm going to make it on my own. Mommy and Daddy won't be paying for my life. I won't have a cozy trust fund to bounce on."

  His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't get bitchy with me, Margo. You don't know what it is to work, to take responsibility, to follow through."

  "Oh, and you do? You've never had to worry about anything but snapping your fingers so a servant can buff up the silver platter you're served on."

  As hurt as he was insulted, he crossed to her. "You've eaten off the same damn platter most of your life."

  Her color rose at that, shaming her. "That may be true, but from now on I'm buying my own platters."

  "With what?" He cupped her face in tensed fingers. "Your looks? Duchess, beautiful women clog the streets in L.A. They'll gobble you up and spit you out before you know what hit you."

  "The hell they will." She jerked her head free. "I'm going to do the gobbling, Joshua Conway Templeton. And no one's going to stop me."

  "Why don't you do us all a favor and think for once in your life before you jump into something we'll have to pull you out of? This is a hell of a time to start acting up like this." He set his glass down so he could push his hands into his pockets. "Laura's wedding day, my parents half crazy because they're worried she's too young. Your own mother running around with her eyes all red from crying."

  "I'm not going to spoil Laura's wedding day. I'm waiting until after she's left on her honeymoon."

  "Oh, that's damn considerate of you." Fuming, he spun around. "Have you thought how Annie's going to feel about this?"

  Margo bit hard on her bottom lip. "I can't be what she wants. Why can't anyone understand that?"

  "How do you think my parents are going to feel, thinking about you alone in L.A.?"

  "You won't make me feel guilty," she murmured, feeling exactly that. "I've made up my mind."

  "Goddamn it, Margo." He grabbed her arms, throwing her off-balance so that she toppled against him. In her heels she was eye to eye with him.

  Her heart thudded hurtfully against her ribs. She thought—she felt—something was going to happe
n. Right here. Right now. "Josh." She said it quietly, her voice shaky and hoarse. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and everything churned inside her, yearning.

  The rude clatter on the stairs had them both springing back. When she managed to draw a breath, he was glaring at her. Kate clomped into the room.

  "I can't believe I have to wear something like this. I feel like an idiot. Stupid long skirts are impractical and just get in the way." Kate stopped plucking at the elegant silk dress and frowned at Margo and Josh. She thought they looked like two sleek cats about to spring. "Do you two have to fight now? I'm having a crisis. Margo, is this dress supposed to look like this, and if so, why? Is that champagne? Can I have some?"

  Josh's gaze remained on Margo's for another humming moment. "I'm taking it up to Laura."

  "I just want a sip before—Jeez!" Pouting now, Kate stared as Josh strode out of the room. "What's with him?"

  "The same as always. He's an arrogant know-it-all. I just hate him," Margo said between gritted teeth.

  "Oh, well, if that's all, let's talk about me. Help." She spread her arms.

  "Kate." Margo pressed her fingers to her temples, then sighed. "Kate, you look fabulous. Except for the incredibly bad haircut."

  "What are you talking about?" Kate ran her hair through the ruthlessly short black cap. "The hair's the best thing. I barely have to comb it."

  "Obviously. Well, we'll cover it up with the hat anyway."

  "I wanted to talk about the hat—"

  "You're wearing it." Instinctively, Margo held out her champagne to share. "It makes you look very chic, Audrey Hepburnish."

  "I'll do it for Laura," Kate muttered, then dropped with little grace onto a chair and swung her silk-draped legs over the arm. "I gotta tell you, Margo, Peter Ridgeway gives me a pain."

  "Join the club."

  Her thoughts revolved back to Josh. Had he actually been about to kiss her? No, that was ridiculous. More likely he'd been about to shake her like a frustrated boy whose toy wasn't working to his liking. "Kate, don't sit like that, you'll wrinkle the dress."

  "Hell." She rose reluctantly, a pretty, coltish girl with oversized eyes. "I know Uncle Tommy and Aunt Susie aren't happy about all this. They're trying to be because Laura's so happy she's practically sending off radiation. I want to be happy for her, Margo."

  "Then we will be." She shook off worries of Josh, of later, of L.A. Now was for Laura. "We have to stand by the people we love, right?"

  "Even when they're screwing up." Kate sighed and handed Margo the champagne flute. "I guess we should go up and stand by her then."

  They started up the stairs. At the door to Laura's room, they paused, joined hands. "I don't know why I'm so nervous," Kate murmured. "My stomach's jumping."

  "Because we're in this together." Margo gave her hand a squeeze. "Just like always."

  She opened the door. Laura sat at the vanity, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. In the long white robe she already looked the perfect bride. Her golden hair was swept up, curls falling flirtily around her face. Susan stood behind her, already dressed for the ceremony in a deep-rose gown touched with lace.

  "The pearls are old," she said, her voice raw. In the shining mirror framed in carved rosewood, her eyes met her daughter's. "Your Grandmother Templeton's." She handed Laura the lovely eardrops. "She gave them to me on my wedding day. Now they're yours."

  "Oh, Mom, I'll start crying again."

  "None of that now." Ann Sullivan stepped forward. She looked lovely and restrained in her best navy dress, her deep-blond hair in short, quiet waves. "No swollen eyes on our bride today. You need something borrowed, so I thought… you could wear my locket under your gown."

  "Oh, Annie." Laura sprang up to hug her. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I'm so happy."

  "May you stay half so happy for the rest of your life." Feeling her eyes well, Ann cleared her throat, smoothed the already smooth floral coverlet on Laura's four-poster bed. "I'd best go down and see if Mrs. Williamson is dealing with the caterers."

  "Mrs. Williamson is fine." Susan took Ann's hand, knowing their longtime cook could handle the most fussy of caterers. "Ah, here are the ladies-in-waiting now, just in time to dress the bride. And how lovely they look."

  "That they do." Ann turned to run a critical eye over her daughter and Kate. "Miss Kate, you could use more lipstick, and Margo, you less."

  "We'll have a drink first." Susan picked up the champagne. "Since Josh was thoughtful enough to bring up a bottle."

  "We brought along a glass," Kate said, shrewdly omitting they'd already had some. "Just in case."

  "Well, I suppose it's an occasion. Just half a glass," Ann warned. "They'll be tippling at the reception if I know these girls."

  "I already feel drunk." Laura watched the bubbles rise in her glass. "I want to make the toast, please. To the women in my life. My mother, who's shown me that love makes a marriage bloom. My friend," she said, turning to Ann, "who al ways, always listened. And my sisters, who gave me the best of families. I love you all so much."

  "That's done it." Susan sniffed into her wine. "My mascara's shot again."

  "Mrs. Templeton, ma'am." A maid came to the door, all eyes as she peeked in at Laura. Later, she would tell the downstairs staff that it had been like a vision, all those lovely women standing in a room with the sun streaming patterns through fluttering lace curtains. "Old Joe the gardener is arguing with the man who's come to set up the tables and chairs in the garden."

  "I'll see to it," Ann began.

  "We'll both see to it." Susan touched Laura's cheek. "It'll keep me too busy to blubber. Margo and Kate will help you dress, baby. That's how it should be."

  "Don't wrinkle those gowns," Ann ordered, then slipped an arm around Susan's shoulders and murmured something quietly as they left the room.

  "I don't believe it." Margo's smile spread. "Mum was so distracted she left the bottle. Drink up, ladies."

  "Maybe one more," Kate decided. "My stomach's so jittery I'm afraid I'll throw up."

  "You do, and I'll kill you." Margo recklessly tossed back the champagne. She liked the exotic sensation of it tickling her throat, bubbling through her brain. She wanted to feel just like this for the rest of her life. "Okay, Laura, let's get you into that incredible dress."

  "It's really happening," Laura murmured.

  "Right. But if you want to change your mind—"

  "Change my mind?" She laughed at Kate as Margo reverently slipped the full-skirted ivory silk gown out of its protective bag. "Are you crazy? This is everything I've ever dreamed of. My wedding day, the beginning of my life with the man I love." Eyes misty, she circled as she slipped off the robe. "He's so sweet, so handsome, so kind and patient."

  "She means he didn't pressure her to do the big deed," Margo commented.

  "He respected the fact that I wanted to wait until our wedding night." Laura's prim expression collapsed into wild glee. "I can't wait."

  "I told you it's not that big a deal."

  "It will be when you're in love." She stepped carefully into the dress as Margo held it for her. "You weren't in love with Biff."

  "No, but I was wildly in lust, which counts for something. I'm not saying it wasn't nice, it was. But I think it takes practice."

  "I'll get lots of practice." Laura's bride's heart fluttered at the thought. "As a married woman. Oh, look at me." Stunned, Laura stared at herself in the chevel glass. Yards of ivory silk were sparkling with tiny seed pearls. Romantic sleeves puffed at the shoulders, then tapered to snugness. When Kate and Margo finished attaching the train, Kate arranged it in an artful spill of embroidered silk.

  "The veil." Margo blinked back tears. With her advantage of height, she slid the pearl circlet smoothly around the neat bun, then fluffed the yards of tulle. Her oldest friend, she thought as a tear snuck through. The sister of her heart. At a turning point. "Oh, Laura, you look like a princess in a fairy tale. You really do."

  "I feel beautiful. I feel a
bsolutely beautiful."

  "I know I kept saying it was too fussy." Kate managed a watery smile. "I was wrong. It's perfect. I'm going to get my camera."

  "As if there aren't going to be half a million pictures by the time it's over," Margo said when Kate dashed from the room. "I'll go get Mr. T. Then I guess I'll see you in church."

  "Yes. Margo, one day I know you and Kate are going to be as happy as I am now. I can't wait to be a part of that."

  "Let's get done with you first." She stopped at the door, turned again, just to look. She was afraid that nothing and no one would ever make her feel whatever it was that put that soft light in Laura's eyes. So, she thought as she quietly closed the door, she would settle for fame and fortune.

  She found Mr. T. in his bedroom, muttering curses and fumbling with his formal tie. He looked so dashing in the dove gray morning coat that matched the Templeton eyes. He had broad shoulders a woman could lean on, she thought, and that wonderfully masculine height, which Josh had inherited. He was frowning now as he mumbled to himself, but his face was so perfect, the straight nose and tough chin, the crinkles around his mouth.

  A perfect face, she thought as she stepped in. A father's face.

  "Mr. T., when are you going to learn how to deal with those ties?"

  His frown turned to a grin. "Never, as long as there's a pretty woman around to fuss with it for me."

  Obligingly, she moved over to tidy the mess he'd made of it. "You look so handsome."

  "Nobody's going to give me or any other man a second glance with my girls around. You look more beautiful than a wish, Margo."

  "Wait until you see Laura." She saw the worry flicker into his eyes and kissed his smoothly shaven cheek. "Don't fret, Mr. T."

  "My baby's grown up on me. It's hard to let him take her away from me."

  "He could never do that. No one could. But I know. It's hard for me, too. I've been feeling sorry for myself all day, when I should be happy for her." Footsteps sounded in the hall, rushing. Kate with her cam era, Margo thought, or a servant hurrying to take care of some last-minute detail. There were always people in Templeton House, she mused, filling it with sound and light and movement. You never felt alone there.

  Her heart hitched again at the thought of leaving, of being alone. Yet mixed with the fears was such dizzy anticipation. Like a first sip of champagne, when the rich fizz of it exploded on the tongue. A first kiss, that soft, sultry meeting of lips. There were so many firsts she yearned to experience. "Everything's changing, isn't it, Mr. T.?"

  "Nothing stays the same forever, however much you'd like it to. In a few weeks you and Kate will be off to college, Josh will be back at law school. Laura will be a wife. Susie and I will be rattling around this house like a bunch of old bones." Which was one of the reasons he and his wife were thinking of relocating to Europe. "The house won't be the same without you."

  "The house will always be the same. That's what's so wonderful about it." How could she tell him she was leaving that very night? Running toward something she could see as clearly as her own face in the mirror. "Old Joe will keep on guarding his rosebushes, and Mrs. Williamson will be lording it over everyone in the kitchen. Mum will go on polishing the silver because she doesn't think anyone else can do it properly. Mrs. T. will drag you out to the tennis court every morning and trounce you. You'll be on the phone scheduling meetings or barking orders."

  "I never bark," he said with a gleam in his eye. "You always bark, that's part of your charm." She wanted to weep, for the childhood that had gone so fast though she had thought it would never end. For the part of her life that was behind her now, though she had strained so hard to pull away. For the coward that lived inside her that shrank from telling him she was leaving. "I love you, Mr. T."

  "Margo." Misreading her, he pressed his lips to her brow. "Before too much longer I'll be walking you down the aisle, giving you to some handsome young man who couldn't possibly be good enough for you."

  She made herself laugh, because crying would spoil everything. "I'm not getting married to anyone unless he's exactly like you. Laura's waiting for you." She drew back, reminding herself that this was Laura's father. Not hers. This was Laura's day. Not hers. "I'll go see if the cars are ready."

  She hurried downstairs. And there was Josh, staggering in his formal wear, frowning at her as she paused breathlessly. "Don't start on me," she ordered. "Laura's coming down in a minute."

  "I'm not going to start on you. But we're going to talk later."

  "Fine." She had no intention of talking with him. The minute the last grain