Paradise by Judith McNaught
Meredith sobered, and decided to tell him the truth. “There is. I want it badly, Matt.”
“Name it, and it’s yours.”
She hesitated, her thumb idly rubbing the new gold wedding band he wore on his finger, then she lifted her eyes to his. “I want to try to have another baby.”
His reaction was instantaneous and fierce. “No. Absolutely not. You weren’t going to risk it if you married Parker, and you’re not going to risk it for me!”
“Parker didn’t want children,” she countered. “And you did say,” she reminded him softly, “anything I want. And I do want that.”
Normally the look in her eyes would have melted him, but she’d explained to him in bed one night that the odds were high that she’d miscarry again late in her pregnancy. He already knew she’d almost died the last time, and the thought of risking that was absolutely beyond consideration. “Don’t do this to me,” he warned, his voice terse and pleading.
“There are obstetricians who specialize in women who have problem pregnancies. I went to the library yesterday, and did a lot of reading about it. There are new drugs and some new techniques they’re trying out—”
“No!” he interrupted, his voice taut. “Absolutely not. Ask anything else of me, but not that. I couldn’t endure the worry. I mean that.”
“We’ll talk about it again later,” she said with a smile that was both stubborn and serene.
“My answer will be the same,” he told her.
He would have said more, but just then the newscaster announced that they had a late-breaking development in the recent Bancroft & Company takeover furor, and Meredith’s gaze snapped to the television screen. “Philip A. Bancroft,” said the newscaster, “called a news conference late this afternoon to comment on reports that his daughter, Meredith Bancroft, was fired as B and C’s acting president as a result of her connection to industrialist Matthew Farrell.”
Dread made Meredith’s hand tighten on Matt’s as her father’s grim, unsmiling face appeared on the television screen. Standing stiffly at the podium in Bancroft’s auditorium, he read from a prepared statement:
“In response to reports that my daughter’s marriage to Matthew Farrell resulted in her termination as B and C’s interim president, the board of directors, including myself, categorically deny any such allegations. My daughter is enjoying a brief and long-overdue honeymoon with her husband, at the end of which she is expected to reassume her role here.” He paused and looked directly at the camera, and only Meredith realized that he wasn’t issuing a statement, he was issuing an order. To her.
Shock had already sent her halfway to her feet, but that was nothing compared to what she felt a moment later when he commented on something that had been appearing all week in the Chicago papers. “In response to published rumors that there is a long history of continuing ill feeling between Matthew Farrell and myself, I wish to state that until very recently I had no opportunity to know my”—he paused to self-consciously clear his throat—“my, er, my son-in-law.”
It hit Meredith what he was doing. “Matt,” she cried, clutching his arm in laughing disbelief, “he’s apologizing to you!” Matt shot her a dubious look that abruptly changed to reluctant amusement as Philip Bancroft continued. “As everyone now knows, Matt Farrell and my daughter were married for a few short months many years ago, a marriage which we all believed had been ended by an unfortunate and premature divorce. However, now that they’ve been reunited, I can only say that having a man of Matthew Farrell’s caliber as a son-in-law is something that any father would deem an—” he paused to clear his throat again, and then he absolutely glowered at the camera as he reluctantly but forcefully said—“an honor!”
Meredith stared at the screen as it switched to the sports scores, and her laughter faded as she looked at her husband. “I made him promise that he’d apologize to you when he found out you were innocent.” Laying her fingers against his cheek in an unconscious gesture of appeal, she whispered achingly, “Could you possibly find it in your heart to put the past behind you and try to be friends with him now?”
Privately, Matt thought that nothing Philip Bancroft did, including the televised statement he’d just made, could begin to atone for what he’d done to them, let alone make Matt regard the man as a friend. He considered telling her that, but as he gazed into his wife’s shimmering blue eyes, he couldn’t quite make himself say that. “I could try,” he said. He heard how revolted he sounded by the idea, and he felt obliged to give her additional reassurance, so he dishonestly but forcefully remarked, “That was a very nice speech that he made.”
Caroline Edwards Bancroft thought it was too. Sitting opposite Philip in the living room of the house she’d once shared with him, she waited until the program switched to sports news, then she turned off the VCR and removed the tape she’d made. “Philip,” she said, “that was a very nice speech.”
He handed her a glass of wine, his expression unconvinced. “What makes you think Meredith will think so?”
“I think she will because I know I would.”
“Of course you would. You wrote the speech!”
Serenely taking a sip of her wine, Caroline watched him pace.
“Do you think she saw it?” he asked, rounding on her.
“If she didn’t see it, you can bring her this videotape. Better yet, you could go to see her now and ask Matt and her both to watch while you’re there.” Caroline nodded. “I like that idea. It’s more personal.”
He blanched. “No, really, I couldn’t do that. She probably hates me, and Farrell will throw me out. He’s no fool. He knows a few words don’t make up for the mistakes I’ve made. He won’t accept an apology from me.”
“Yes, he will,” she said quietly, “because he loves her.”
When he hesitated, Caroline handed him the videotape and said firmly, “The longer you wait, the harder it will become for you and them. Go over there now, Philip.”
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Philip sighed. “Caroline,” he said gruffly, “would you go with me?”
“No,” she said, quailing inwardly at the thought of confronting her daughter for the first time. “Besides, my plane leaves in three hours.”
His voice softened, and she glimpsed the irresistibly persuasive man she’d fallen in love with three decades before. “You could go with me,” he said quietly, “and I could introduce you to our daughter.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the way he’d said our daughter, then she realized what he was doing and she shook her head, laughing. “You are still the most manipulative man I’ve ever known.”
“I’m also the only man you ever married,” he reminded her with a rare smile. “I must have had some good qualities.”
“Stop it, Philip,” she warned him.
“We could go to see Meredith and Farrell—”
“Start calling him Matt.”
“All right,” he conceded. “Matt. And after we leave their place, we could come back here. You could stay on for a while, and we could get to know each other again.”
“I already know you,” she said heatedly. “And if you want to get to know me, you’ll have to do it in Italy!”
“Caroline,” he said on a harsh breath. “Please.” He saw her waver. “At least come with me tonight. This may be your last chance to meet our daughter. You’ll like her. She’s like you in some ways—she has a lot of courage.”
Closing her eyes, Caroline tried to ignore his words and the urging of her own heart, but the combination was irresistibly powerful. “Call her first,” she said shakily. “After thirty years I’m not going to just crash in on her unannounced. Don’t be surprised when she refuses to see me,” she added, taking the phone number Matt had given her out of her purse and giving it to Philip.
“She’s probably going to refuse to see both of us,” he said. “And I can’t blame her.”
He walked into the adjoining room to make the call and reappeared so quickly that Carolin
“What did she say?” she managed to get out when Philip seemed unable to speak.
He cleared his throat as if he felt an obstruction in it, and his voice was strangely hoarse. “She said yes.”
59
Meredith walked out of the building where her obstetricians’ offices were located, and suppressed the absurd urge to throw out her arms and twirl around on the sidewalk. Turning her face up to the sky, she stood, letting the autumn breeze caress her skin, smiling up at the clouds. “Thank you,” she whispered.
It had taken nearly a year and two long consultations with her obstetricians, who specialized in problem pregnancies, to convince Matt that whatever the outcome of her pregnancy might be, if Meredith followed their instructions and treatments impeccably, including staying in bed for part of her pregnancy, the risk to Meredith herself would be only slightly more than to any woman. It had taken another nine months to hear the words she’d finally heard today: “Congratulations, Mrs. Farrell. You’re pregnant.”
On an impulse she crossed the street and bought a fistful of roses from a florist shop, then she walked down the block to where Joe was waiting with the car, surprising him by arriving from a different direction. She opened the door herself and slid into the backseat.
Joe looped his arm over the back of the seat and twisted toward her. “What’d the doc say?”
Meredith looked up at him, her face glowing with wonder and awe. And she smiled.
A broad answering grin split Joe’s face. “Matt’s gonna be one happy man!” he predicted. “After he gets over bein’ one very scared man!” Turning back, he put the limousine into gear.
Meredith braced herself to be thrown against the back of the seat when he blasted away from the curb in his usual fashion, but Joe passed up three opportunities to charge into traffic and two more perfectly reasonable chances to do it at moderate speed. Not until there was no one behind them for a block did he finally pull out, and then he did it ever so slowly, as carefully and tenderly as if he were pushing a baby carriage. In the backseat Meredith burst out laughing.
Matt was waiting for her, pacing back and forth across the living room windows, raking his hand through his hair, berating himself for ever agreeing to let her try to get pregnant. He knew she thought she was, and he was half hoping she was wrong, because he didn’t know how he was going to endure the fear if she was right.
He lurched around as the front door opened, watching her as she walked toward him with one hand behind her back. “What did the doctor say?” he demanded when he couldn’t stand the suspense anymore.
She produced a dozen long-stemmed roses from behind her and held them out to him, her smile bursting out like sunshine. “Congratulations, Mr. Farrell. We’re pregnant!”
He yanked her into his arms, crushing the roses between them. “God help me!” he whispered raggedly.
“He will, darling,” she promised, kissing his taut jaw.
Epilogue
Told you we’d make it in time,” Joe O’Hara said as he brought the limousine to a screeching stop in front of Bancroft & Company. For once Matt appreciated his driving, because Meredith was late for a very important meeting with the board. Their plane had been late getting in from Italy, where they’d stopped to visit Philip and Caroline on their way back from skiing in Switzerland.
“Here,” Matt told O’Hara, handing the chauffeur the briefcase he’d brought to the airport with Meredith’s meeting notes in it. “You take Meredith’s briefcase, and I’ll take Meredith.”
“You’ll what?” Meredith asked, looking over her shoulder as she reached into the backseat for the crutch she had to use until her sprained ankle healed.
“You don’t have time to hobble all the way to the elevators,” Matt said, and swept her into his arms.
“This is very undignified,” Meredith protested, laughing. “You can’t carry me through the store like this!”
“Watch me,” he said, grinning.
And he did.
Shoppers turned to gape as he strode toward them. At one of the cosmetic counters, a middle-aged woman exclaimed to her friend, “Isn’t that Meredith Bancroft and Matthew Farrell?”
“No, it can’t be them,” a shopper at the counter across the aisle replied. Meredith turned her face into Matt’s chest, her shoulders shaking with embarrassed mirth as the woman continued. “I read in the Tattler that they’re getting a divorce! She’s going to marry Kevin Costner and Matt Farrell is in Greece with some movie star.”
When they reached the elevators, Meredith lifted her laughing eyes to Matt’s. “Shame on you,” she joked. “Another movie star?”
“Kevin Costner?” he retorted, brows raised in amused challenge. “I didn’t even know you liked Kevin Costner!”
In Meredith’s office he put her down so that she could limp into the meeting on her own two feet.
“Lisa and Parker said they’d meet us here with the baby and have lunch with us,” she added, looking a little anxiously toward the empty reception area outside.
“I’ll wait here for them,” Matt promised, handing her the briefcase.
A few minutes later Matt turned as Lisa appeared in the doorway, a baby in her arms. “Parker dropped us off in front,” she explained. “He’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“You’re looking,” Matt teased with a grin, “very pregnant, Mrs. Reynolds,” but his eyes were on the six-month-old baby in her arms, and he was already reaching out to take her.
“I’ll go watch for Parker,” Lisa said.
When she left, Matt looked down at the baby girl that Meredith had risked her life to bring into the world.
Marissa opened her eyes just then and started to cry. With a tender smile Matt touched his finger to her soft cheek. “Shhh, darling,” he whispered. “Future presidents of major corporations don’t cry—it’s bad corporate protocol. Ask your mommy,” he suggested.
She quieted, and after a moment she grinned at him and gurgled something that sounded profound. “I knew it!” he said, grinning back at her. “Aunt Lisa’s been teaching you Italian right along with Uncle Parker, hasn’t she?”
With time on his hands before Meredith finished her meeting, Matt took his daughter to the eleventh floor to show her his favorite department. It was a new department that Meredith had created for all the Bancroft & Company stores, and it contained articles from all over the world, from jewels to clothing to handmade toys. The only thing they had in common was that they met Meredith’s requirement: Each article had to be rare, and it had to be perfect before it was allowed to bear the exclusive new logo that was already famous for symbolizing perfection.
With Marissa in his arms, Matt looked up at the logo above Meredith’s special department, and he felt the same constriction in his throat that he felt whenever he stood here. The logo was a pair of hands; a man’s hand reaching out for a woman’s hand, their fingers touching.
Meredith had named the department Paradise.
Loved PARADISE? Don't miss a single title in Judith McNaught's enchanting PARADISE SERIES!
When a schoolteacher is abducted by an escaped convict, desire captures them both.
Perfect
* * *
In a tale of breathtaking suspense, a small-town policewoman meets a suspected criminal and finds him positively arresting.
Night Whispers
* * *
When an actress's husband mysteriously disappears, she uncovers troubling secrets from his past.
Someone to Watch Over Me
* * *
ORDER YOUR COPIES TODAY!
Books by Judith McNaught
Every Breath You Take
Someone to Watch Over Me
Night Whispers
Remember When
Double Exposure
Miracles
Until You
Perfect
Paradise
Almost Heaven
A Kingdom
Something Wonderful
Once and Always
Whitney, My Love
Double Standards
Tender Triumph
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Pocket Star Books ebook edition November 2016
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