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Until Kenny had intervened.
Emma fastened her latest gift from her husband around her neck, a breathtaking necklace of delicate gold vines. She smiled to herself as she remembered what had happened at Royal Lytham and St. Annes three months earlier during the British Open.
Playing spectacular golf, plus having an English wife, had made Kenny the most popular of the American players with the British public and press, and just before he’d gone into the final round, he’d asked Warren to put a phone call through to Hugh. Acting on Kenny’s instructions, Warren had advised the Duke of Beddington that Kenny would be using his press conference that day to entertain the press with some fascinating stories of his wife’s conflict with her former employer. Unless, of course, Hugh decided to behave reasonably.
It had been one thing for Emma to threaten exposure to Lower Tilbey’s garden columnist, but CNN was quite another matter. Hugh had agreed to accept the consortium’s offer and wash his hands of St. Gert’s.
Now, in addition to Emma and Kenny, Shelby Traveler was also a part owner of the old school, a surprise birthday present from Warren for his Anglophile wife. Shelby had become a fierce watchdog for St. Gert’s, and, at Emma’s suggestion, had ably represented the consortium at the last Founder’s Day celebration.
In the months since their marriage, Emma had grown increasingly fond, not only of Shelby, but also of Warren Traveler. In the way of men, he and Kenny didn’t talk much about the fact that their relationship had finally healed. Instead, they simply spent time together: on the golf course, riding horses, playing with Peter, or just enjoying Kenny’s victories. He was currently one of the leading money winners on the tour, despite the fact that he’d grown increasingly selective about which tournaments he played in because he didn’t want to be separated from her.
And that was one of the best things about her substitute teaching job. She had the pleasure of being back in the classroom, but she could also travel with Kenny whenever she wanted. She planned to continue her scholarly writing when she was home with the baby, and she was also developing a series of teacher training workshops to introduce some exciting new methodology in social studies instruction. She’d presented the first workshop last week, and it had been a huge success with Wynette’s middle school teachers.
“Come on, sweetheart.” He brushed his thumb across the tip of her nose. “The rei
gning British Open champion needs to be fed.”
An hour later, eight of them were gathered around the dining room table to celebrate Emma’s first American Thanksgiving and enjoy the platters of food they’d all pitched in to prepare according to Patrick’s orders. Peter perched in a high chair between Warren and Shelby, while Torie fed Dexter particularly juicy morsels of turkey breast from her own plate. Patrick refilled serving bowls and fretted about an overly brown crust on one of the pumpkin pies he would be serving when the Beaudine family and Skeet Cooper joined them for dessert.
“She kicked me!” Torie shrieked in midbite. “Dex! Feel!”
Dexter immediately put his hand on Torie’s seven-months-pregnant belly, while Shelby rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Torie, you’d think you were the only woman on earth who ever had a baby. That’s the fourth time you’ve made Dex feel your belly since Patrick passed the turkey.”
“I don’t mind.” Dexter leaned close and kissed his beautiful wife’s cheek.
Torie kissed him back, then turned to Shelby. “You’d better stop complaining or I’ll describe everything I’m doing to get ready for breastfeeding.”
They all groaned except Dexter, who looked like a man well-pleased with himself.
Kenny smiled as he remembered his sister’s wedding dinner toast to her brand-new husband.
“Here’s to you, Dex. My third andfinal husband, along with being the love of my life. Do you remember that I told you I had a surprise for you today? Well, guess what, you gorgeous geek? You knocked me up!”
There’d been no living with her since then. She strutted when she walked, shoving out her pregnant belly for all the world to see and insisting that everyone, from the truckers who ate at the Roustabout to Patrick’s special new friend, Raymond, feel its contours. At the dinner table, she loved nothing more than to share the intimate workings of both her digestive and excretory systems until all of them, even Emma, had begged Dexter to spank her again.
Kenny’s eyes drifted to the other end of the table where his wife sat. His own pregnant wife. Her love had made him a better person than he’d ever dreamed he could be. And she finally had all those attachments she’d wanted after years of being alone.
They exchanged one of the secret smiles that stroked his soul. He’d never imagined he could love a woman the way he loved this one. She tilted her head in Torie’s direction and lifted one eyebrow.
He understood immediately. They’d planned to share the news about their own baby with the family today, but Torie was having such a wonderful time strutting her stuff that Emma thought they should postpone their announcement and let her hold on to the limelight just a little longer.
He lifted his eyebrow back. Torie doesn’t know how lucky she is to have a sister-in-law like you.
Her forehead creased. Will you be awfully disappointed if we wait another week or so?
He brushed the corner of his mouth. Maybe we should negotiate with point number six.
She laughed.
“They’re doing it again,” Shelby grumbled. “That silent talking.”
“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” Torie said. “You and Dad do it, too.”
Shelby set down her wine glass. “Which reminds me . . . everybody can see how much you and Dex love each other. Why don’t you two do it?”
“I try, but Dex is too literal, and he doesn’t understand all the nuances.”
Dex was unruffled by her criticism. “I understand the nuances. I just prefer direct communication.”
