“I went to Marisol once. Your mother invited me when I was making a film near there. The place is bigger than the Hotel du Cap, and if you turned it into a hotel, you could charge more. Valerie, that was a very dishonest thing to do.” But he didn't look as angry as she had feared he would. The truth was that the Westerfields were the biggest banking family in the East. They were the Rothschilds of America in the early days, and related to the Astors and the Vanderbilts and the Rockefellers and half the blue bloods in the States, if not the world. The Westerfields made the Madisons look like paupers by comparison, but the difference was that Valerie was a grown-up, and didn't have to answer to anyone. Somehow, the circumstances were such, now that his finances were in order, or about to be, that it didn't seem like such a shocking alliance after all. And she wasn't a young girl, but he was stunned that she had never said anything to him. She was the most unassuming woman in the world. He had presumed she was a widow living on a small income. But it explained why Jimmy had been able to rent the gatehouse so easily. It explained a lot of things, about the people she knew and the places she'd been. But he'd never seen anyone as unpretentious and discreet as she was. He sat there and stared at her for a long moment, absorbing it, and then he sat back in his chair and laughed. “Well, I'll tell you one thing, I don't feel sorry for you anymore.” But he wasn't going to let her support him either. If they married, he was going to be supporting her. That was the way he wanted it to be. She could be as discreet as she wanted on her own budget, but their extravagances, and there would be many of them, would be paid for by him. “And I'm calling a plumber, if my toilet doesn't flush at Marisol, you little witch. What would you have done if I didn't get this movie?” He'd have been in the same boat as he had been in with Alex in that case. But Valerie was more mature. It wasn't just about the money with Alex, it was about their age, and not having kids, and being perceived as a gigolo, and Arthur Madison disapproving of him. But none of that seemed relevant with Valerie, because she was the right woman for him. And he was back on his feet financially, in fact better than he'd ever been.
“If you call a plumber at Marisol,” Jimmy warned him with a grin, “my mother will have a fit. She thinks it's part of the charm, along with the roof that leaks, and the shutters that fall off. I damn near broke my leg last year when the south porch caved in. My mother loves fixing the place up herself.”
“I can hardly wait,” Coop groaned. But he already knew he loved the place. He had fallen in love with it when her mother had invited him there. It seemed to go on forever, with houses and boathouses and guest houses, and a barn full of antique cars he could have spent the entire weekend in. It was one of the most famous houses in the East. The Kennedys had often visited there when they were in residence at Hyannis Port, and the President had stayed there. Coop was still shaking his head when the others left.
“Don't ever lie to me again,” he scolded Valerie.
“I didn't. I was being discreet,” she said, looking demure, with a decided look of mischief in her eye.
“A little too discreet perhaps?” he said, smiling at her. In a way, he was glad he hadn't known before. It was better like this.
“One can never be too discreet,” she said primly. But he loved that about her. He loved her elegance and her simplicity. It explained the distinction he had felt. She was an undeniable aristocrat even in white shirt and jeans. And suddenly he realized what it meant for Alex too. Jimmy was exactly the man she needed, he was part of her world, and at the same time, as much of a renegade as she. Even Arthur Madison couldn't object to him. And suddenly Coop felt pleased. Things had worked out exactly as they were meant to. Not only for him, but for her too. Even if she didn't know it yet, she was on the right track. And as Valerie cleared the table, and put the dishes in the dishwasher, Coop glanced at her.
“Does Alex know?”
“Knowing Jimmy, probably not.” Valerie smiled at him. “It matters even less to him than it does to me.” It didn't matter to them because it was part of them, right down to their bones. They hadn't made it up, or invented it, or acquired it, or married it. They were born to it, so they could live any way they chose. Richly, or poorly, or quietly or noisily. It was entirely up to them. And Alex was cut from the same cloth. It meant nothing to her, and she liked living as though she were poor.
“How do I fit into all that?” Coop asked Valerie honestly, pulling her close to him. She really was the woman of his life, whether she knew it yet or not. But he was determined to convince her of it eventually. Not for the money, but simply because of who she was and what she meant to him.
