stared straight ahead. “Oh. How nice of her to take such an interest,” she said woodenly. “A seven-bedroom house for two people?”
Brad’s hand tangled possessively in her hair. “Like I said, it won’t always be just us,” he pointed out. “It’s a great piece of property. A real showplace. Wasted as a hotel. You’re lucky to have it.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Ellen said. “I’ll be paying twelve hundred dollars a month on it for the next twenty-four years.”
Brad was silent as the car bumped over the railroad crossing. “I was under the impression that your mother had given you the house.”
“Nope,” Ellen said. “She gave me as good a deal as she could, but it’s a valuable property. Expensive to maintain, too.”
“You should have told me.”
“I’m telling you now,” she said shortly. “It never occurred to me that you might assume that I owned Kent House free and clear.”
They drove in utter silence for a couple of minutes. Ellen stared out the window at the storefronts. Brad had hit the nail on the head when he said she was “playing house.” Making a welcoming, beautiful home, even if it was just for strangers, had given her more satisfaction than any other work she’d tried since college.
Her dream had always been to fill that house with people, laughter, cooking smells, but there was a hollowness to her “playing house” that all her hard work couldn’t fill. She felt it most keenly at night in her bed. The only thing that could really fill that house was a family. Not like her own when she was a kid. She’d rattled around all alone in that huge house. Her mother had been busy with her volunteer work for charity foundations. Her distant father had been absorbed with his business. She’d been a shy kid, lost in her books and dreams.
Her strongest connection had been with Simon. The fantasy of making a home with him had sustained her throughout the loneliness of her adolescence. But she could not have Simon. She’d accepted that. If she wanted to fill that house, she had to look elsewhere.
Brad had offered her a family. A way to fill that hollow space and give it meaning. And he was correct when he guessed that she would value family over work. All of this was true, right, and reasonable.
So why did she feel so frightened?
She looked over at Brad’s grim profile. When he wasn’t scowling, he was a very handsome man. Tall, powerfully built, his catlike green eyes striking against his tan. The bulge of his biceps stretched out the sleeves of his polo shirt. “Our kids will be great-looking, whether they take after you or me,” he’d once remarked.
Ellen tried to imagine making kids with Brad, but her brain couldn’t quite encompass the idea. They hadn’t gotten around to becoming lovers yet. Once they were married, she was hopeful that—no, she was absolutely confident that these details would iron themselves out. After all, Brad was very attractive. Women sighed over him. He was ambitious, smart, shrewd. Princeton educated. A successful lawyer. Rich, too. Not that she cared, but there it was.
Brad slid his hand underneath her hair and rubbed her neck. “Don’t pout, Ellen.”
Ellen shook her head. “Just thinking.”
“Stop thinking, then, if it puts that sour look on your face.” Brad pulled up in front of the sparkling window display of Sigmund’s Jewelry. “Diamonds ought to make you feel better.”
A half hour later, her head was throbbing as she stared at the array of diamond rings. They all looked very much the same. Cold, glittering stones, clutched in ruthless prongs like fleshless golden claws.
“I still think the white gold one with the tiny sapphires on either side is the prettiest,” she insisted wearily.
Brad exchanged a speaking glance with Bob Sigmund. “Ellen,” he said with exaggerated patience. “That’s the most inexpensive ring we’ve looked at so far. Get it through your head that it’s not just yourself you have to consider. The ring you choose reflects on me, as well.”
“Check out this beauty, Ellen.” Bob Sigmund waved a huge diamond under her nose. “Two carats, pure white, and not a single flaw. Just look at the clarity of this baby. Very impressive.”
“It doesn’t feel right on my hand,” Ellen protested. “It’s just too—”
The bell dinged, the door flew open. Brad’s mother, Diana Mitchell, swept in. She was a tall, attractive woman, elegantly dressed in flowing white pants and a long, filmy pastel shirt. Her pale blonde hair was swept up into pouffy curls. “Ah! How are you, Ellen?”
“Wonderful, thanks.” Ellen smiled and did the air-kiss thing.
“Hi, Mom. Glad you could make it,” Brad said.
“Wouldn’t miss it! When Bradley told me that you two were getting the ring today, I just couldn’t resist! I thought that you could use a woman’s advice! Am I right?” She paused expectantly.
Ellen gathered her strength for a cheerful affirmative, but Brad broke in before she could speak. “I’m glad you’re here, Mom. I’ve been trying to convince Ellen to think a little bigger. She keeps saying she wants this one.” Brad held up the offending ring to his mother.
Diana peered through her bifocals and dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You can’t get that one. People will call my son stingy. A pretty girl like you deserves a beautiful ring, like this one Bob’s showing you. Now, that’s a proper engagement ring!”
The flashing brilliance of the stone sent a needle of pain through Ellen’s throbbing head. She looked at Diana Mitchell’s expectant smile. She looked at Brad’s annoyed frown. She wondered if it was actually worth all this resistance. After all, it was just a ring.
The big, protruding diamond was beautiful, too, in its own garish way. She would learn to like it. The same way she would have to learn to like a lot of things. Like her future mother-in-law, for instance.
“OK,” she said.
“Excellent choice!” Diana beamed.
Brad grabbed her hand, slid the ring onto the appropriate finger and kissed her hand. “Good girl,” he murmured.
Arf, arf, she restrained herself from saying.
Diana Mitchell gave Ellen a stiff hug and kissed the air beside her ear. “Congratulations! You’ll be a lovely bride, sweetheart. Your mother and I think the third Saturday in September would be perfect. It won’t be quite so hot anymore, but the weather should still be holding. I’ve already reserved the country club. Won’t that be nice?”
“Oh. Ah…yes.” Ellen followed them out onto the sidewalk.
“Time’s a’ wasting, my dear! Speaking of time, be bright and early for your engagement portrait at Dwight’s studio Saturday!”
“Actually, Mrs. Mitchell—”
“Bring at least five or six changes of clothing. We’ll do casual, formal, and everything in between.” Diana gave her a critical once-over. “We should aim for the old-fashioned look, with all that hair of yours. Better
