Separate Beds by Lavyrle Spencer

Author:Lavyrle Spencer [Spencer, Lavyrle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, General, Love Stories, Large Type Books, Man-Woman Relationships, Love Stories; American, Marriage, Domestic Fiction, Parenthood
ISBN: 9780515090376
Google: Np7zqVb4_fsC
Amazon: 0399151311
Publisher: Jove
Published: 1985-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The windows of the Forrester home were all ablaze, throwing oblique patches of gold across the snow of early evening. Each of the front columns was festooned with an enormous arrangement of Indian corn, scarlet leaves and bearded wheat with nutmeg-colored ribbons trailing streamers that drifted in a meek breeze. Snow settled softly upon the scene and Catherine gave a soft exclamation of surprise at the liveried attendant who was sweeping the cobbled walk.

She could see that Angela's expert hand had done its work and wondered what other surprises awaited her inside. Catherine fought against the overwhelming sensation of coming home. She fought, too, against the both terrible and wonderful sense of expectation. Surely this incredible day was not happening. Yet the scent of gardenia was real. And the diamond on her hand was so large she couldn't draw her glove over it. Summoning common sense did little good. The flutter of excitement persisted, disquieting, reducing Catherine to nervous jitters.

Then the attendant was smiling, opening the door, while Catherine fought the crazy sensation that she was debarking from a coach-and-four.

The foyer door opened upon yet another dreamlike setting: bronze and yellow flowerbursts threaded with ribbons, cascading from the spooled stair rail at evenly spaced intervals. Angela appeared with Ada in tow, sweeping Catherine into a hurried hug, whispering conspiratorially, “Hurry on up. We don't want you to be seen here.”

“But, Steve—” Catherine strained to glance over her shoulder, dismayed at being whisked through the tantalizing foyer without being allowed to dote upon it. Angela's laughter tinkled into the softly glowing space as if she understood Catherine's reluctance to be swept through so hastily.

“Don't worry about Steve. He knows what to do.”

The floral impressions had to be left behind momentarily. Yet a last look behind her gave Catherine the sight of two white-capped maids peeking over the banister for one forbidden glimpse of the bride.

Insanity continued as Catherine was ushered into a stunningly appropriate bedroom, trimmed in pink flounced ruffles and floor-length priscillas. It was carpeted, too, in palest pink, and furnished with a glorious brass bed and free-standing cheval mirror, ruffled pillows, and a girlish look that seemed the counterpart to Angela's giddiness.

When the door closed behind them, Angela immediately captured both of Catherine's hands. “Forgive an old-fashioned mother her whims, my dear, but I didn't want to run the risk of your meeting Clay somewhere in the hall.” Angela squeezed the damp palms. “You look lovely, Catherine, so lovely. Are you excited?”

“I . . . yes . . . it . . .” She glanced at the door. “All those flowers down there . . . and a doorman!”

“Isn't it exciting? I can't think of another affair I've had more fun arranging. I believe I'm a little breathless, as well. Can I tell you a secret?” She smiled conspiratorially again, then turned to include Ada in the secret. “So is Clay.”

The idea seemed preposterous, yet Catherine asked, “He is?”

“Ah! He's been driving us crazy all day, worrying if

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