For now, however, the city's had the first major snow of the season, so the women get an unexpected day off. They decide to spend a long weekend at the home of Ian and Cynthia Yarrow—a multi-billionaire and his wife.
"Booya! Beat you at
your own game, Mister Yarrow!" His British accent was strong,
but sounded genuine.
"Someone give the man a
cookie," another male voice said. "Or he's gonna explode
from puffed up self-importance."
Loud laughter ensued. It
faded slightly when Karen and Daphne entered the room. They looked up
expectantly. Some of the faces were familiar, others weren't. The
women rushed to her, hugging her and dragging her into the room. They
tried to introduce her to everyone at once until Karen took control.
"Give the girl a chance
to breathe! Let's start with the host and his lovely wife. Daphne, my
cousin Ian Yarrow and his wife Cynthia."
A strikingly handsome man
sat on a chaise lounge, his legs in some sort of odd braces. He
smiled. "I'd get up, but I'm still getting used to this
contraption. Welcome, Daphne. We've heard about little else from the
girls. Glad to finally meet you."
"Thanks for inviting
me, Mr. Yarrow."
Ian's booming laugh warmed
her. "Just Ian is fine. Or Yarrow. I even answer to hey you."
He took her hand. "Welcome. I'm glad to have another person to
call friend. Honey?"
He deferred to the
attractive redhead seated next to him. She was very pregnant, due
pretty much any day, so far as Daphne could tell.
"I'm so glad to meet
you. I hated that I missed the last girl's night, but we were getting
Ian's brace adjusted." She stood awkwardly, hugging Daphne. The
baby kicked and both women laughed.
"When are you due?"
"Soon.
About a month. Gillian's due Monday."
"Which is why they
invited me," a handsome dark haired man next to Reva said. "I'm
Hal."
"The token doctor,"
Ian interjected
"What they don't know
is I haven't delivered a baby since my residency."
"A hundred years ago,"
the ginger haired Brit said, coughing.
"Don't get cocky,
squirt!" Hal said, laughing. "He thinks since he just won
that round, he's da bomb!"
"The British contingent
is represented by Gillian and Fritz Heathrow-Cooper," a pretty
dark haired British woman said politely. "I'm Gillie and that
ginger haired turnip is my husband. . . ."
"And hyphen," he
added. "Fritz Cooper. She hyphenated, I didn't. What we'll do
when the baby is born, I don't know. I can't see saddling a little
tyke with that sort of handle, can you?"
Daphne wasn't sure what to
say. She didn't want to get into the middle of an argument, if such
it was. "I don't know. I never had any occasion to hyphenate."
"Sounds positively
dirty when you say it like that," Fritz said with an
enthusiastic rubbing of his hands. "Oi, love! Let's hyphenate!"
He winked at his wife, nudging her ribs.
She smacked him playfully.
"Cocky bugger. As to the babe, she won't hyphenate. Her middle
name is Heathrow, her last Cooper."
"Really? When did you
decide that?"
"Just now." She
looked self-satisfied.
"They're a crazy
bunch," Karen explained. "But fun. Last, but not least, my
spouse, Luc Vaughan. Honey, this is Daphne."
"The one you're trying
to hook up with Ralan? Aw, hon, she's too good for him." He
kissed his wife soundly. "Kidding. He's a great guy. Nice to
meet you, Daphne. What would you like to drink?"
"What are my choices?"
Gillian replied, pointing to
a variety of insulated carafes. "We've got tea, Earl Grey. Hot
chocolate, coffee and hot cider."
"Wow, so many choices!
Cider sounds fantastic."
"Excellent choice. My
idea," Ian answered. "See, someone besides me likes it,
Fritz."
"Insane, she is. Has to
be. So, you're dating Ralan?"
"No! What? I haven't
even met him."
"Good," Derrick
said as he walked in. "That means there's a chance for me to
sweet talk you first."
The room exploded in
laughter. They weren't laughing at Derrick, more at what he'd said.
Daphne looked carefully at the pilot for the first time. He was tall,
broad shouldered, blond and handsome. Every man in the room was
gorgeous. How could there be so many good looking men in the world
and she couldn't seem to find even one? Her two boyfriends in college
were nowhere near this handsome. She said as much to the room full of
people.
"That's a good
question, that is," Fritz said. "Let's ponder it, shall
we?"
"Ponder this,"
Derrick said, grabbing his groin.
"I had hoped,"
Cynthia said amidst loud, male laughter. "That we could go the
weekend without that kind of humor."
"With this lot?"
Gillian said. "It's amazing that none of them have dropped their
pants and flashed us."
"Give us time,"
Ian countered. "The day is young and I'm sober."
"I've seen your tukas,"
Gillian replied in a bored tone. "Magnificent," she
whispered loudly to Daphne. "Really posh. Nothing quite so
remarkable as a billionaire's arse."
Her husband pinched her
ribs, laughing. "I'll remember that, my girl, when you want to
grab mine."
"Yours is very nice
too, sweetheart," she said in a singsong voice.
"Are you always like
this?" Daphne asked, somewhat taken aback.
"Sometimes we're
naughty," Derrick replied, grinning as he poured himself some
cider.
"I love it! You're just
like my family."
© 2014 Dellani Oakes
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