Here I Am

There had been two rehearsals—the first time for the wedding party to familiarize themselves with the logistics, and the second time to confirm that everyone knew what they were to do. Brandt and Jordan were to enter the foyer through a hallway leading from the west wing of the mansion. The groomsmen and bridesmaids were to descend the curved staircase and walk along the white carpet to a floral-covered canopy where the bride and groom would exchange their vows.

The wedding planner touched the earpiece in her left ear. Although she was a new mother, Tessa had decided to personally coordinate the Fleming-Wainwright nuptials. Her wedding planning business had grown so much that she’d had to hire two assistants. Both young women were bright and had quickly learned the business. But Tessa continued to closely monitor important clients, especially those who were part of her elite social circle.

She raised her hand to get Jordan’s attention. “Jordan, it’s time for you and Brandt to head out.”

The bridesmaids filed out of the room and into the hallway wearing flowing silk chiffon strapless bias-cut gowns in varying shades of blue, ranging from cobalt to robin’s egg to periwinkle to sapphire. Each woman wore a large cushion-cut sapphire-and-diamond pendant that had been her gift from the bride. As a gesture designed to bring the Humphrieses and the Wainwrights together, Aziza had asked Jordan’s two half sisters—Stephanie and Keisha Andrews—to be her bridesmaids. Jordan’s sixteen-year-old sister, Chanel Wainwright, resplendent in sapphire blue, was maid of honor.

Brandt leaned closer to whisper to Chanel. “Remember you’re right behind the flower girl and ring bearer.” The ring bearer was one of Aziza’s nephews, and one of the younger Wainwright cousins was the flower girl. “Are you going to be all right, Chanel?”

Her blue-green eyes shimmering excitement and her face flush with color, Chanel nodded as she shifted her bouquet of violets, irises and white roses to her left hand. “I hope I don’t faint.”

Brandt smiled at the slender young woman who seemingly had grown up overnight. He’d always remembered her as a tall, skinny girl with a waist-length ponytail. She was now quite the young woman, her round face framed by a short mass of curls, which were adorned with baby’s breath and tiny white roses.

“Stop being a drama princess, Chanel.”

“What if I make a mistake, Brandt?”

“You’re not—”

Whatever he was going to say was preempted when Tessa signaled for him to follow Jordan. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to his cousin’s hair. He squeezed the tiny hand resting on the sleeve of his jacket, then turned on his heel, and with long strides he walked into the entrance hall to stand next to Jordan.

A minute later Rhett and Noah, followed by the rest of the wedding party, descended the curved staircase as the string quartet began playing “One Hand, One Heart” from West Side Story.

Chapter 2

As the music began to play, Brandt experienced a strange, unsettling feeling. He’d attended plenty of weddings involving family members, friends and teammates. But this was the first time he’d been part of the wedding party. As he stood next to Jordan, the love between bride and groom seemed so palpable, Brandt felt as if he was the one exchanging vows with his future bride. It was the first time he’d ever thought that.

When Aziza’s father escorted her down the rose-petal-strewn carpet, Jordan released an audible sigh upon seeing his bride for the first time. Because it was her second marriage, Aziza had insisted that everything be low-key. But there was nothing simple about the bride, with her flawless brown skin and the body and face of a runway model, as she walked down the aisle effortlessly exuding grace and elegance. She wore a platinum-colored, strapless mermaid gown with silk tulle that wrapped around the skirt and a waist-length veil. Her thick, dark hair was brushed off her face and pinned into a chignon with jeweled hairpins.

Brandt smiled when his gaze went to the magnificent pear-shaped blue-and-white diamond earrings and the matching pendant, nestled between Aziza’s breasts. He’d accompanied Jordan to a jeweler where they’d spent a couple of hours going over designs for his bride’s wedding jewelry, and then another hour examining a collection of loose stones. When they left Brandt was more than familiar with intricacies of diamonds’ cut, color, clarity, carat weight and certification.

He turned his attention back to the proceedings, and he smiled when Jordan cradled Aziza’s face between his hands and pressed his mouth to hers, sealing their vows. They were no longer bride and groom, but husband and wife.

“Ladies, gentlemen, friends and family, I’m honored to present Mr. and Mrs. Jordan Wyatt Wainwright,” announced the black-robed judge in a voice that carried easily in the expansive space.

Thunderous applause quickly followed as Christiane Wainwright dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a linen handkerchief. Her blue-gray gown complemented her summer tan and ash-blond hair that was pinned up in an elaborate twist at the nape of her long, slender neck. Leaning to her right, she hugged Diane Humphries-Andrews, the two women sharing a bond as adoptive and birth mother.

Diane, only two years younger than Christiane, was stunning in a royal blue sheath dress that showed off her still-slim figure to its best advantage. Her hair was cut into a becoming style reminiscent of First Lady Michelle Obama. Her features were delicate, but it was her large light brown eyes framed by a face the color of golden-brown autumn leaves that garnered the most attention.

How very civilized, Brandt thought. If it had been left up to his great uncle Wyatt, he doubted whether the two women would’ve ever met. He felt the utmost respect for Jordan and Aziza in bringing the two families together.

The wedding party proceeded out of the expansive foyer to the elevator that would take them to the solarium, where they would spend the next hour posing for photographs. Meanwhile, the guests were escorted into the ballroom where cocktails and hors d’oeuvres awaited them before they were seated for a seven-course dinner. The menu included filet mignon, Alaskan salmon, lobster tails, stone rock crab and carving stations with roast turkey, prime rib and trays of foie gras and caviar.

Brandt escorted his mother to an area of the ballroom that had been set up like a large parlor with sofas, settees, floral arrangements, candles and enormous floor pillows and ottomans scattered around the marble floor. He led his mother to a settee, and sat down next to her. He watched Leona Burroughs-Wainwright’s impassive expression. His mother didn’t smile during dinner, when the many toasts were made, or when wedding cake was cut and passed around to the guests.

“What’s bothering you, Mom?”

Leona forced a smile. “What makes you think something is bothering me?”

His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “First of all you’re answering a question with a question, and secondly you look as if you’ve just lost Smooches.”

“Bite your tongue, Brandt Wainwright. My baby may have a few years on her, but the vet said there’s still a lot of life in her.”

Brandt rolled his eyes. Smooches was overweight, visually impaired and eighteen years old. Seemingly the only thing the toy poodle lived for was low-fat treats. “If it’s not Smooches, then why the long face?”

Leona patted her coiffed silver hair. “I would have liked it if you were the one getting married tonight instead of Jordan.”

He shot his mother an incredulous stare. “Don’t tell me you have your nose out of joint because Christiane married off one of her children before you did?”

“Jordan and Aziza know Clarissa’s wedding is scheduled for the fall, so why couldn’t they have waited until next year? It’s not as if Aziza is pregnant.”

“Whether Zee is pregnant or not has nothing to do with you,” Brandt chastised in a soft tone. “They didn’t need to check with you to get the go-ahead.”

Leona pouted, a gesture that never failed to get her whatever she wanted. “How do you expect me to compete with this…this extravaganza? When I contacted Signature Bridals more than a year ago I was told they have a two-year waiting list. Jordan gets engaged in February and yet he manages to get them to plan his wedding.”

“That’s because Jordan and Zee know Tessa Sanborn personally.”

Leona turned to her eldest son. “You’re just like your father. You have an answer for everything.”

“The difference is you don’t like my answers,” Brandt countered. Leaning to his right, he kissed his mother’s cheek. “Clarissa will have a beautiful wedding. You’ve waited a long time to marry off your daughter, so come November it will be your turn to be the mother-of-the-bride. And what a magnificent mother-of-the-bride you’ll be.”

Leona’s expression brightened. “Do you really think so?”

Brandt smiled. “I know so.”

He couldn’t understand how a woman who’d managed to marry one of New York’s most eligible bachelors and had given him four children whom he adored continued to compete with her in-laws for status. Most of the Wainwright men had married women who’d gone to finishing school, had coming-out parties, were in the Social Register and had attended elite colleges. Leona had been the exception, and most times she’d tried too hard to become a high-society grande dame. What she hadn’t realized was that Fraser Wainwright had chosen to marry her because she was different. She wasn’t affected or a snob. During their thirty-five-year marriage, however, Leona had changed—becoming a social climber in the hopes that her mother-in-law would accept her. Unfortunately, it hadn’t happened. And in Leona’s mind, the only thing she had done right was to give her mother-in-law, Francine Wainwright, grandchildren.

Leona, whose natural beauty hadn’t faded despite having recently celebrated her fifty-fifth birthday, flashed a dimpled smile. The fuchsia-colored silk suit complemented her smooth, peaches-and-cream complexion. “Brandt, you’re going to make a wonderful husband for some very lucky woman.”

“I’m going to have to find that very lucky woman first before I can even consider getting married.”

Leona sobered. “Are you against marriage?”

His mother’s question had caught him off guard. He’d never been one to advertise his relationships, but it had been a long time since he’d brought a woman home to meet his family. It was just that he wasn’t ready to settle down.

“No.” The single word answer hung in the air. “Why would you ask me that?”

“It’s just that it’s been a very long time since you’ve introduced us to one of your girlfriends. By the way, I ran into Courtney Knight last week and of course she asked about you.”

Brandt averted his gaze. He’d been engaged to Courtney for less than two months when he’d discovered that she was sleeping with one of his college buddies. In response, Brandt had issued an ultimatum: either she break off the engagement or he would disclose why he wasn’t going to marry her.

“That’s nice,” he drawled sarcastically.

“There you are, Brandt. I thought you’d left.”

He turned to find his sister standing a few feet away. Rising to his feet, he smiled at her. “What’s up, Clarissa?”

The enormous diamond on Clarissa Wainwright’s finger sparkled like a headlamp. She was a tall, blue-eyed blonde with striking features. But every time Brandt saw her, she appeared thinner than she’d been before. Tiny blue veins were visible under her eyes, which were framed by long, dark lashes.