Second Honeymoon

Meg gave a silent laugh. The two of them an incredible team? Then Trish completed her thought. “Brenda and Scott are awesome together. So creative.”

Meg swallowed the bile that filled her throat. Creative? She just bet they were.

When Trish caught a glimpse of Meg, she stammered. “You know,” she said, blushing, “their work on the department-store account.”

Meg put the lipstick in her bag and closed it with a snap. “Yes, they do work well together.” She stepped around the women. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the table.”

Outside, she leaned against the wall, controlling her breathing. Were Trish’s remarks innocent, or was there more to them? Had she merely given voice to Meg’s suspicions? Now, she’d have to go back into the dining room where Brenda was, of course, an invited guest, slap a smile on her face and somehow get through this endless evening.

No sooner had she rejoined Scott and her in-laws, than Bud, a cheery grin on his face, stood up, tapped a spoon against his water glass and called for silence. Beside her, Meg saw Marie straighten, her eyes twinkling as she watched her husband.

Meg’s heart sank. Toasts. Please, she pleaded to whatever deity was in charge of graceful exits, just let this be over.

Then Meg saw that Justin and Hayley had joined their grandfather, Hayley preening in her center-stage role and Justin casting uncertain glances at her and Scott.

“The children, Marie and I thank all of you for coming to help us celebrate Meg and Scott’s twentieth.” He beamed. “And for keeping this party a secret.” Raising his champagne glass, he invited the crowd to stand and lift theirs. Then he turned to Scott and Meg, and Meg felt Scott slowly—grudgingly—put his arm around her. “To a bride, still as beautiful as the day she made my son the happiest of men. And to you, Scott, for having such good taste in women. Here’s to you both with our wishes for twenty more wonderful years of marriage.”

Looking into her father-in-law’s loving face, Meg’s eyes misted. Then the congratulations of the guests engulfed her.

“Cheers.”

“Hear, hear.”

“To Meg and Scott.”

Scott pivoted her toward him and lifted his glass. She held her breath in anticipation of his obligatory response. “Thank you, Dad, Mother, Hayley, Justin and all of you who gave up your time to be with us tonight.” He paused and Meg could feel her husband gathering himself. “And to you, Meg. Thanks for twenty years of—” his hesitation seemed to last an eternity “—togetherness.”

That was neutral enough, Meg conceded. Honest. They had been together. Living in the same house. Signing Christmas cards as a couple. Hosting dinner parties. Rearing their children. Earlier she’d acknowledged that physical attraction alone couldn’t sustain a marriage, but neither could proximity.

“Thank you,” she murmured, averting her head, letting him kiss her cheek. Her gaze fell on the amply endowed, “incredible” Brenda Sampson.

Could this evening get any worse?

The question had just crossed her mind, when the answer came. And not the one she wanted to hear.

“Well, kiddos,” Bud went on, “the celebration isn’t over quite yet. Marie, the children and I have one last surprise for the two of you.”

Meg caught Justin looking at her pleadingly. Her skin prickled. She didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“Hope you don’t mind, but Marie and I are planning to stay here in Tulsa a little longer than you bargained for.” He grinned. “We’ll be babysitting.”

“What the—” Only she heard Scott’s muttered expletive.

Bud gestured toward Marie and the kids. “To celebrate your anniversary, the four of us are sending you on a trip to the Colorado cabin where you spent your honeymoon.”

Thunderstruck. That was the only word Meg could come up with to describe her reaction. Opening her mouth to protest, she felt Scott’s hand clamp on her forearm.

“Pops, that’s very generous and we appreciate it, but it’s out of the question.”

“Absolutely,” Meg murmured.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Scott added, “but right now it’s impossible for me to leave the office.”

“Nonsense.” Wes, Scott’s partner, came to the front of the room. “It’s all arranged. Brenda and I have everything covered. You’ll join us for the presentation to the Jordan people Monday morning and then take off for Estes Park.”

“You were in on this?” Scott’s tone carried an edge of accusation.

“Sure. Your mother’s been planning this event since last March. You’re not indispensable, you know. Brenda and I will take care of business while you play. Any red-blooded man would be thrilled to whisk a wife like Meg off for a second honeymoon.”

Scott shook his head, at a loss for words.

Meg cleared her throat. “Some other time maybe. My calendar is full and—”

Hayley stepped forward, a proud smile on her face. “No, it isn’t, Mom. I went through your day planner and canceled everything. You have a whole week free.”

Was the entire world conspiring against them? How could she and Scott possibly endure seven days cooped up in a cabin that would bring back so many memories, once pleasant, now nothing but painful?

Marie, twining her fingers nervously, said in a plaintive voice, “You won’t disappoint us, will you?”

Disappoint you? Wait until you hear about the separation.

Scott went over to embrace his mother. “No, Mom, of course not.”

Of course not! Was he out of his mind? Surely he wasn’t actually planning to accept this gift. It would be a mighty expensive farce.

Suddenly, Meg became aware of their guests and their slowly dawning bewilderment. Meg knew she had to say something to save face for her in-laws. “You’ll have to excuse us, but you really caught us off guard. We’re not accustomed to leaving home on such short notice.”

“About time you started, then,” Bud said as if the matter were closed. Again, he raised his glass. “To Meg and Scott’s safe travels.”

The guests echoed the words, seemingly reassured that all would go as planned.

Scott leaned over to whisper in Meg’s ear. “Don’t say anything. We’ll talk about this at home.”

They’d talk about it, all right. About how to reject this ridiculous gift.

BUD’S FEET HURT. He hadn’t danced that much in years. He sat on the side of the bed, massaging his instep.

Smearing night cream on her face, Marie stood in the doorway to the bathroom. “Tired?”

Bud reached for the Tiger Balm on the night table. “It’s way past our bedtime, sweetheart.” He opened the lid, took a dab and rubbed it on his neck, closing his eyes against the pungent odor.

Marie wiped her hands on a tissue and crossed the room. “Here, let me.”

She dug her fingers deep into his coiled muscles, reducing him to a sigh of satisfaction. “You sure know how to make an old guy feel good.”

She chuckled. “A far cry from the way I made you feel good when we were younger.”

Where had the time gone? Back then, he wouldn’t have needed a massage, so eager would he have been to get her into bed and do wonderful things to her. Now? There was no comfort like her hands soothing his aches and pain. “I love you,” he found himself saying.