Chapter 21 Charlotte
Charlotte
Much to my irritation, Cole had chosen the perfect dress.
A long, layered Valentino number that gave me a dopamine hit every time I swished the elegant train.
I gazed at my reflection in the bedroom mirror while Elain fussed with the delicate veil.
My hands felt clammy in the long white-lace gloves.
All eyes would be on me walking down the aisle in this next week.
Would they buy it? We needed people to see a bride, when all I saw was a fraud.
Elain sighed softly. “Look at you.” Her smile was a little teary. “What a gorgeous pair you make. I’m so happy for you both. Marcia would have loved you. She’d be so thrilled about Cole settling down.”
“Marcia?”
Elain hummed lightly as she smoothed out a crease in the train. “Cole’s mother.”
“Cole doesn’t talk much about his family.”
“Strange.” She fanned the veil back from my face. “They were very close. Marcia lived here.” A sudden smile crossed her lips. “Here. Come with me.”
I followed her out of the bedroom, down a hallway, and into a wood-paneled office. A large walnut desk dominated the room, and bookcases lined the walls. I hung back by the door. “Are we supposed to be in here?”
She beckoned me with her hand. “Cole won’t mind. You know how laid-back he is.”
I spluttered out a laugh. That was one word that would never be associated with Cole in my vocabulary. “Laid-back? Are we talking about the same Cole?”
She chuckled but gave me a curious smile. “He’s very good to us.”
“Seriously?”
“Maybe he’s different in the office. The staff here have no complaints. He treats us all very well.”
Elain pointed to a picture on the wall. A woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties reclined on a sun lounger next to a sparkling swimming pool.
A chic white trouser suit wrapped around her tanned, slender frame.
But it was the framed watercolor of rolling green hills next to the photo I couldn’t take my eyes from. I did that.
The memory hit me in a rush. Wispy clouds in a bright blue sky.
Cole’s lips touching mine for the first time.
I’d been high on life that day. High with that naive feeling you have when you’re young that anything is possible.
That the world is just waiting for you with open arms. I’d given that picture to Cole the day before he left. He’d kept it all this time?
“Beautiful, wasn’t she?”
Elain’s voice dragged my gaze back to the photo of Cole’s mother.
Cat-eye sunglasses perched on her loose golden hair and her glossy lips were parted in a radiant smile.
There were three children in the picture.
An older boy and girl who must have been around nine and a young boy with dark hair and a sullen expression. It was unmistakably a young Cole.
“Yes. Very beautiful.”
Elain gave a wistful sigh. “Marcia was a lovely woman. Very kind and soft. Always generous. If she saw a problem or if someone was in trouble, she would do anything to fix it. That’s where Cole gets it from.”
I couldn’t help my incredulous laugh. “Cole? I’m not sure about that.”
She raised an affronted eyebrow. “Yes. We’re so grateful for him.
My grandson, Marco, was a handful growing up, but Cole told us he needed something to focus on.
We could never have afforded culinary school without Cole’s help.
Now he works for Cole as his personal chef.
I don’t know what we would have done without him.
He’s changed that boy’s life. And he gives so much to charity. ”
“He does?”
She glanced at me in surprise. “He funds all kinds of causes: addiction charities, homeless shelters, and education projects. Most of these places wouldn’t be able to stay open without him. He’s a great philanthropist.”
“Cole? Cole Thorner?” Were we even talking about the same man? Was he paying this woman to say these things?
She looked perplexed. “Yes. Why do you seem so surprised?”
“Because I had no idea. Why doesn’t he tell anyone?”
“I suppose he doesn’t feel the need.”
I returned my attention to the photo, to the two happy children and the glum-looking Cole. “Who is this little girl?”
Elain’s smile was wistful. “Penelope.”
“Who?”
A shadow crossed Elain’s face, and she moved to the door. “It’s not really my place to say. Maybe you could ask him.”
“He doesn’t talk about himself much.”
“You’re about to be his wife. You should ask him. He should trust you more than anyone.”
Fake wife. Although, he did seem to trust me. He’d told me as much. Lifting my train off the ground, I followed Elain to the door. A worn spiral-bound pad on the bookcase caught my eye. It looked out of place among the neat rows of vintage leather-bound books.
I plucked out the pad and flipped through the pages.
Pencil sketches and glued-in postcodes of exotic locations filled the pages.
There were pages and pages of hands. I’d been obsessed back then with trying to recreate the hand shapes in Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam.
The entire Sistine Chapel was a work of genius, but the central part of it had always thrilled me.
There was so much drama and tension in those almost touching fingertips.
My heart skipped a beat. The book hurtled me back to Ecclesdale and the days I’d spent in the woods sketching and painting. God. I’d been a pretentious kid. I’d really fancied myself an artist. It hadn’t taken me long to realize I wasn’t good enough. Art school had knocked the wind out of my sails.
“These are my drawings,” I said, clutching the book to my chest.
Elain raised an eyebrow. “They are?”
“It’s one of my scrapbooks. I had dozens. I used to take one everywhere with me. Why would Cole have this?”
She shrugged. “You were friends, weren’t you? Maybe he picked it up sometime by accident?”
It was a possibility. Cole had spent so much of his time in Dad’s study, and he was always borrowing books. It would have been easy to pick it up by accident.
She eyed me with a wistful expression and held out her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you out of that dress before it gets creased.”
I returned the book to the shelf, even though it was mine. Elain might have found him laid-back, but I didn’t like to think how he’d react to the idea of us snooping around in his study.
She beamed at me. “You’re going to knock him out when he sees you in this. I can’t wait to see his face.”
Maybe, but more likely he would be indifferent. It seemed Elain and I had spent time with entirely different men.