Finding Her Prince. Lilian Darcy

      So Suzanne was meeting Stephen there at two, less than forty-eight hours away. She already felt a warm lick of anticipation curling inside her. Anticipation, and desperation.

      “Jodie would have been pleased about your decision?” Rose was repeating in a derisory tone. “What do you know about Jodie? She was my daughter.”

      “You gave her up for adoption at birth.”

      “Because I was young, and alone, and penniless! It was more than thirty-seven years ago. Girls didn’t keep their illegitimate babies then. Not unless they were fools.”

      “When she made contact with you this year, you didn’t want to know her.”

      “What was the point? What good would it have done? To drag up that whole affair?” Suddenly, she gave a cynical laugh, and her focus seemed to fix on something in her mind’s eye. “Well, at least, in hindsight, if I’d known that Alex Rimsky had done so well for himself, I might have been able to get something out of it. Heaven knows, I deserve some security, don’t I? After all I’ve had to deal with in my life!” She blinked back tears. “But never mind that. We’re talking about your marriage.” Rose gave the word a sour, mocking intonation.

      “No, Mom, I’ve said all I have to say.”

      There was no point in prolonging this. Rose was very good at hijacking a conversation and pulling it, without warning, in exactly the direction that suited her. Suzanne didn’t have that sort of cunning. All she had was love, faith and need.

      She stood up, not wanting to linger until Perry woke up. “The ceremony is at three o’clock. At John Davenport’s church. You remember, Dad’s friend? And you remember where it is?”

      “Of course! But, lord, is old John still alive, after all these years?”

      “He’s only in his late sixties. And, as I said, you and Perry are most welcome to come. There won’t be any written invitations, obviously. And there won’t be anyone else there.”

      “Not your sisters? Not that ghastly old cousin of Catrina’s with the strange name?”

      “It’s Pixie. Short for Priscilla.” Resisting the urge to defend her stepsister Cat’s eccentric but loving cousin, Suzanne added, “No, I haven’t asked them.”

      Suzanne had seen Cat just last week, when Cat had come up from Philadelphia for the day to see Alice. She could have asked her to the wedding. Should have. Cat and Pixie would be hurt. Jill would have been hurt, too, only she was away in Montana, supposedly organizing a divorce.

      Why hadn’t she asked them? She didn’t want to think about the possible reasons right now, just knew she’d felt a deep-seated reluctance to get them involved.

      She expected an attack from Mom, but Rose just did that strange eye narrowing thing with her face again and said, “Hmm.”

      “Biding her time. That’s what she’s doing,” Suzanne thought. “Waiting until she’s worked out a strategy, and talked it over with Perry.”

      He had just rolled over on the couch.

      I shouldn’t have invited her. I wanted to give her fair warning that I wasn’t going to simply accept Dr. Feldman’s verdict and let Alice go. But maybe that’s going to backfire. There’s been no chance to really think this through. What if everything I’m planning turns out to be a huge mistake?

      Chapter Three

      “Suzanne?”

      She whirled around. “Stephen! You startled me!”

      Waiting in the entrance of the chilly church, idly reading the memorial plaques on the walls, she hadn’t heard him coming up the steps, and the acoustics in the dark, old building made his accented voice sound strange. The place was a little musty, smelling of aged leather, which added to the unique atmosphere.

      He saw the way she had her hand fisted over her heart.

      “I’m sorry,” he said. “And I’m late.”

      “It’s fine. It’s not a problem,” she answered, her voice not quite steady. “I was early. I came straight from the hospital.”

      He stepped forward and touched her arm. “How is she today? You have a little glow, as if—”

      “Yes.” She smiled, happy to have someone to tell. “I had a meeting with Dr. Feldman and the hospital social worker and one of the nurses. The social worker has recommended that Alice comes to me when she’s first discharged, because I’m the one who is most familiar with her care.”

      “That’s great, Suzanne!”

      “I know. And Dr. Feldman’s supporting it. She’ll still have the oxygen mask and the breathing alarm, and I know about those. It’s only temporary, until the custody hearing, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

      Her teeth began to chatter with cold and nerves. “Mom won’t be happy, but she and Perry just haven’t been around enough to know how to deal with the oxygen.”

      “Relax!”

      She shook her head. “Can’t. I’ve just been standing here, thinking about it all, and…”

      She couldn’t put it into words.

      If she had been tense last week when they first met, she was doubly so today, their wedding day. She was marrying a stranger, and didn’t know if he’d be coming to her apartment tonight.

      Didn’t know if Stephen Serkin-Rimsky had secrets, or sins. Of course! Everyone did! What were his?

      “I’m sorry that you’ve gotten cold,” he apologized again. “There was a delay at the bank.” The explanation for his lateness didn’t answer any questions, just created more.

      “The bank?” Suzanne echoed.

      He didn’t answer. They both looked as if they’d been shopping, dressed in jeans and casual shirts, with their wedding clothes in large carrier bags. Where were the bridesmaids? The gleaming cars? The milling guests? All the usual trappings of the romantic church wedding she’d once dreamed of were missing. This was the strangest occasion, but you couldn’t expect smooth-as-silk glamour and romance under such circumstances, Suzanne decided.

      Lord, she wasn’t going to waste precious time regretting a few details! If this arrangement increased her chance of becoming Alice’s mother, that was all that mattered. She still had no idea whether Rose and Perry would even show up today, and what it would do to her chances with Alice if they did.

      Could she convince them that this wedding made a difference? Could she convince Dr. Feldman?

      “Are you going to dress?” Stephen asked.

      “Well, I wasn’t planning to get married in jeans.” She heard the defensive note in her voice, and wondered why he made her feel like this. She was like a cat on hot bricks. Would have been even without the decision on Alice’s temporary care.

      “I meant, are you going to dress now?” he corrected himself politely, and she felt bad about how she’d overreacted to his innocent question. This couldn’t be easy for him, either. They were both doing it for Alice.

      “I didn’t know if—” she began to explain, then changed tack. “You wanted to meet me here early. I thought you might have wanted to talk, or something. In fact you said you did, and I…thought I’d feel more comfortable talking in jeans.”

      “Put on your dress,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to talk yet. We’ll have time for that in a while, and, yes, we’ll need to. When you’re dressed, I want to give you what I have brought.”

      Suzanne nodded. Why was she so breathless? She hadn’t been running. It had to be nerves.

      “There’s a room Mr. Davenport showed me,