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“Um.” Bron rolled her lips together, her lipstick remaining unsmudged. “Can we talk?”
Realizing how rude it was to keep the woman standing on the doorstep without even saying a word, Angela opened the door wider. “Come in.” Then she asked out of politeness, “Would you like coffee?”
Bron waved her hands as if warding Angela off. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
Japanese pots of orchids, philodendrons, and African violets filled the marble entryway. Two steps down from the foyer, the rarely used living room had a wall of windows with an expansive view of the meadows and mountains that lay beyond the backyard pool. “Let’s have a seat.” She flourished a hand for Bron to precede her.
She’d chosen the Los Altos house twenty-five years ago when she still had a marriage that didn’t feel like a war zone. Maybe Donald let her keep it because it had never been as ostentatious as he would have liked. It didn’t scream of wealth the way his Atherton home did. She’d driven by out of curiosity. Already planning his exit strategy, he’d bought it in the firm’s name before the divorce.
But she didn’t want to dwell on the past. She was free, and her life was good. Except for the loss of her children’s love.
A hand protectively on her belly, Bron perched on the edge of the sofa as if afraid the cushions would swallow her if she sat back.
Angela couldn’t begin to guess what this was about. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, Mrs. Walker.” Bron stopped as if unsure of what to call Angela. She and Donald weren’t married anymore. And now he was marrying this beautiful young woman who would give him beautiful babies.
She helped her out. “Call me Angela.”
Bron nodded, her fingers curled around the edge of the sofa cushion, and finally got to it. “I can understand how upsetting the wedding must be for you.”
“It’s not upsetting at all,” Angela said sincerely. “And congratulations on the baby.”
Bron blinked as if she didn’t believe her and had no clue how to answer the bold declaration. “Oh, well, thank you, I’m sorry,” she stammered.
Angela put her out of her misery. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m perfectly fine. We’ve been divorced for a year.” She didn’t say she’d been happier in the last year than in the previous thirty.
“I’m so glad to hear that.” Then Bron rushed on as if she’d prepared a speech she had to deliver. “I want you to know I wasn’t having an affair with your husband before the divorce. Not even a thought or a look.”
Surely there’d been an attraction, but what counted were actions.
“I understand completely. You don’t owe me anything.” Though Donald did for the terrible way he’d treated her for so many years. But she knew instinctively this girl was innocent. She was a young thirty, sweet, and Angela mourned the death of her innocence when she found out what Donald was really like.
She urged the girl on. “But that isn’t what you came here to tell me.”
Bron shook her head, her silky blonde hair caressing her perfect cheekbones. “I don’t want there to be any animosity or for you to think I have an ulterior motive.”
Everyone had an ulterior motive. It didn’t make Bron a bad person. “No worries. I don’t have even a scintilla of animosity.” She smiled reassuringly.
“Thank you. And I want you to know that I really, really like your daughter.”
Angela barely restrained her eyebrow from rising. What did Sienna have to do with anything?
“I know there’s a huge age gap between Donald and me, and I feel like Sienna’s a sister.”
That meant Angela was more like this girl’s mother. She’d been twenty-three when Sienna was born. “I’m glad. She works so hard, and she can always use more friends.” Someone who could help her see that work wasn’t the only thing in life.
“Well, then, I…” Bron was stammering again. “You can see why I’d like to have her in my wedding.”
“Sienna told me you’d asked her to be a bridesmaid. It’s kind of you to include her.”
“So I’m asking your permission,” Bron said. “It’s not meant as a slam against you.”
Angela interrupted so the girl didn’t have to keep apologizing, “It’s a wonderful idea.”
Bron didn’t seem to hear her. “Sienna and I would’ve been friends even if I’d never fallen—” She stopped, looking at Angela as if saying the words aloud terrified her. Then her eyes went wide as she suddenly understood what Angela had said. “You do? Think it’s a good idea, I mean?”
Angela confirmed with a nod, wanting to put the girl at ease. She was a girl, so young, so hopeful. Angela hated the thought of what five years of marriage to Donald would do to her. She wondered if he’d make her get a paternity test for the baby she was protecting in her womb. “Sienna needs friends. I’d love for you to be close to her. Being your bridesmaid doesn’t bother me in the least.”
