"I won't," she promised, blinking back tears.
When she could finally bring herself to pull away from her aunt's embrace, she turned toward Marc and the waiting car. Though she knew he was eager to get on the road, his expression gave away nothing of his inner thoughts or feelings.
"Ready to go?" he asked in an even tone.
Since her throat was still tight with emotion, she could only nod before climbing into the front seat. Once her legs were tucked safely inside, he closed the door for her and she reached for the safety belt while he moved around to the driver's side.
Flipping down the visor, she used the tiny rectangular mirror to make sure Danny was still okay, doing her best to ignore Marc's sudden, overpowering presence as he slipped behind the wheel.
How could she have forgotten how small cars were? Even given the roominess of his sleek, black Mercedes with its supple, tan leather interior, it suddenly felt as though all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the air, making it hard for her to draw a breath.
After fastening his own seat belt, Marc turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life. Rather than pull right out, though, as she'd expected, they simply sat there for a moment. So long, in fact, that she turned her head to look at him.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, thinking that perhaps they'd forgotten something. Although how that could even be possible, she didn't know. They'd packed just about everything but the kitchen sink, as the overstuffed trunk and half-stuffed backseat could attest.
"I know you don't want to do this," he said, his moss-green eyes glittering into hers. "But it's going to be all right."
She held his gaze for a moment, feeling that lump in her throat-which had finally started to recede-swell up again. Then she nodded before turning her attention back to the view straight in front of her.
But what she was really thinking was, Famous last words. Because she didn't think there was any way that this little visit to Marc's family could possibly be anything less than a complete disaster.
Twelve
Unfortunately, the drive to Pittsburgh flew by much more quickly than Vanessa would have liked. Before she knew it, they were pulling up the long, oak-lined drive to Keller Manor.
Every inch of blacktop that passed beneath the Mercedes's tires made her heart beat faster and her stomach sink lower until she started to worry she might actually be sick.
Don't be sick, don't be sick, don't be sick, she told herself, taking deep, even breaths and praying the mantra would work.
Marc pulled to a stop beneath the wide porte cochere and within moments a young man was opening her door, offering a hand to help her out, then rushing to open the rear door so she could see to Danny. Marc had obviously called ahead to let the family know he-or perhaps they-would be coming.
She'd never seen this particular young man before, but then, Eleanor Keller tended to go through household staff faster than allergy sufferers went through facial tissues. Marc's mother also liked to have someone on hand to do her every bidding at the snap of her fingers. She employed gardeners, chefs, maids, a butler, an on-site mechanic and at least one personal assistant.
How many of them Vanessa would come in contact with during her stay was left to be seen, but one thing she did know was that she would treat them a heck of a lot better than Eleanor did. She would treat them like actual human beings rather than servants or robots programmed to be seen, but not heard, and to do exactly as they were told-nothing more and nothing less.
Coming around to her side of the Mercedes, Marc popped the trunk, then tossed his keys to the kid in the short red jacket that marked him as a Keller Manor employee. It even had a gold crest of sorts embroidered over the left breast pocket.
"We aren't traveling light," Marc told him, one corner of his mouth twisting upward. "But it all goes in my suite."
Vanessa opened her mouth to correct him. Marc had brought a single overnight case with him, while all the rest of the belongings filling the car were hers or Danny's. And they definitely did not belong in Marc's rooms.
But he apparently knew what she was about to say, because he pressed his index finger to her mouth, effectively cutting off her disagreement.
"They go in my rooms," he said again, so that only she could hear. "You and Danny will be staying there with me while we're here. No arguments."
Marc might be high-handed and controlling, but just because he said "no arguments" didn't mean she wasn't going to give him one. She opened her mouth again to do just that, but he covered her lips with a quick, hard kiss.
"No arguments," he repeated a shade more sternly. "It will be better for everyone involved. Trust me on this, okay?"
She so didn't want to. There was something deeply ingrained in her since their divorce that made her not want to trust him or listen to him or even believe a word he said.
But the fact was, she did trust him. Sharing a suite with him would be awkward and uncomfortable, but considering where this particular suite of rooms was located-inside the dreaded Keller mansion-it might actually be safer than staying in a room of her own. In addition to being quite spacious, Marc's suite also happened to be the one they'd lived in together while they were married, so at least she would be in a familiar setting.
"Fine," she muttered, slightly distracted by the lingering remnants of his kiss. He tasted of mint, and she could have sworn it was of the mentholated variety, because her lips were still tingling from the contact, however brief.
"Good," he replied, looking much too pleased with himself for her peace of mind. Then he scooped Danny out of her arms, tucking him against his own chest. "Now let's go inside and introduce our son to the rest of his family."
At that, Vanessa's stomach started to pitch and roll again, but Marc reached for her hand and the warmth of his fingers clasping hers was as calming as a glass of merlot. Well, almost. She was still jittery and her breathing was shallow as they stepped through the wide, white double front doors.
Built of redbrick and tall, Grecian columns, the entire mansion looked like a throwback to Gone with the Wind's Tara-pre-Civil War destruction, of course. Secretly, however, Vanessa had always thought Marc's mother was trying to compete with a much larger residence, like the White House. And was winning.
Just inside the main entrance, the foyer sparkled like the lobby of a grand hotel. The parquet floor had been waxed to a high gloss. The chandelier hanging overhead glittered with polish and a thousand bits of glass shaped like teardrops reflecting the light of another thousand brightly lit bulbs.
In the center of the floor, an enormous display of freshly cut flowers rested on a sizeable marble table. And behind that, a wide, curved staircase was only one of the many ways to get to the second floor and opposite wings of the house.
It all looked exactly as it had the day Vanessa had left. Even the bouquet, which was large enough to bring Seabiscuit to his knees, was the same. Oh, they were different flowers, she was sure; Eleanor had new ones delivered every morning for the entire house. But they were the same type of flowers, the same colors, the very same arrangement.
She'd been gone a year. A year in which just about everything in her life had changed substantially. But if not even the flowers in the Keller's foyer had changed, she had little hope that anything-or anyone-else under the mansion's million-dollar roof had.
They didn't have coats, so the butler who had opened the door for them moved on down the long hallway to one side of the stairwell-likely to alert his mistress to their arrival. Seconds later, he returned to help the young man who was unloading the car carry their things to Marc's suite.
A moment after they disappeared upstairs, Eleanor emerged from her favorite parlor.
"Marcus, darling," she greeted Marc-and only Marc.
At the sound of her ex-mother-in-law's voice, Vanessa's heart lurched and she murmured a quick prayer asking for the strength and patience to get through this agonizing visit with the Wicked Witch of Western Pennsylvania.