Disclaimer: The Twilight Saga and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
Ж
New York ~ June, 1922
Jacob Black was too strikingly handsome not to be memorable, his raven hair and bronze skin standing out like exotic plumage among the muted pigeons of New York's social whirl. The fact that he'd never actually stood under the same roof as Edward Cullen was little impediment to Edward's memory of his face. A photograph of the boy—Charles Swan's nephew—graced the library in Mr. Swan's home on Mobile Bay.
Edward recognized Mr. Black from across the expansive lawn and dispatched a man to pluck Jacob from the sea of partygoers washing over Mr. Cullen's estate. Moments later they were in conversation in Edward's upstairs office.
They'd scarcely made their introductions when a butler entered the room apologetically.
"Mr. Cullen, Mr. Aro is on the line for you."
Mr. Cullen suppressed all but a twitch of a smile. "It's just 'Aro,' Jenks. And thank you."
"As you wish, sir."
He put the earpiece to his ear. "Cullen here."
From the doorway poor Jake had no idea how to feel about the polite exchange that had just occurred. Nor was he able to understand the half-conversation he was making a show of pointedly ignoring.
Mr. Cullen wrapped his hand over the end of the mouthpiece. "It is work, after all; thought it would be my mother. Can we meet Wednesday for lunch, sport? I'll be in town then."
"That suits me just fine, Mr. Cullen. Thank you for the hospitality."
"Edward. And I can't wait, Jake. I just can't wait."
As he descended the imposing staircase, Jake found himself wondering what kind of mother one expects a call from at one in the morning.
Ж
Their friendly lunch was a smashing success.
Edward was ecstatic but carefully arranged his face so that just a trace of a grin played upon his features. It was the face he'd been practicing for years, the one that made him more money than his business savvy. No one appeared more eternally amused by life than Mr. Cullen. He seemed to have more secrets to warm him from the inside out than Mona Lisa herself.
Jake was glad to have a new friend who didn't need a translator to understand his accent. Still, something he couldn't quite put his finger on made him wonder if Edward was having as good a time as he was.
"My accent isn't all that thick."
"Jake, it's perfect. It sounds like home, my friend."
"Then you should meet my cousin Isabella. Hell, you should meet all my Alabama friends who live here."
"That would be a treat…a real treat. Not too many Southerners take to the bustle of New York City." He thought about it and then added, "I'm having another party Friday night. Bring them. I'd love a little slice—"
A ruckus punctuated by the dull thump of a body coming into sudden contact with something higher up on the hardness scale came from the back of the establishment. The racket either kept Jake from hearing the rest of Edward's statement or stopped his words cold.
Unperturbed, Edward smiled graciously and stood. "If you'll excuse me."
He walked towards the noise.
To one side of the kitchen entrance was a door and a lanky fellow Edward didn't recognize lounging in its frame. Which would make him Seth. "I'm afraid the chef's indisposed for the moment, sir."
"I'm Cullen. If you wouldn't mind…."
Straightening quickly, the man was all too happy to allow his new boss entrance.
"I should've—"
He held up a hand. "No apology necessary. I'd rather you stop me than let just anyone in."
Cullen walked through the door and the action came to a halt. In the middle of the room was a man perched on a bentwood chair too small for his frame. His wrists were tied to it.
Edward Cullen did not meet the seated man's eye. Instead, he toyed with a ladle he found hanging.
"We couldn't find a more appropriate time or place to take care of this than lunch? Did this fellow try to walk out on his tab?" He looked pointedly at a club propped against the seat, his accompanying gesture with the oversized spoon almost comical. "I ask because we have less medieval means of sorting problems like that here."
The other three men seemed dumbstruck. Mr. Cullen waited patiently for an answer, picking a breadcrumb from his lapel.
Finally one of the men answered. "We can take care of this later, sir. We've just had a hard time tracking this slippery sucker down and got a little carried away."
Before he could continue, he was interrupted. "I'm sure you have an ages-old family feud, or something equally ugly between you. But right now you're in the back room of my restaurant, making my patrons wonder about the happenings in the kitchen, making this my problem to deal with.
"So here's what I'm going to do: this chap here—"
"Mr. Nu—"
Edward shook his head. "I don't need a name, thank you very much. We are going to settle his debt with Aro now." He turned to the bloody face at his hip and pulled the rag from his mouth. "Do you owe them money or goods?"
The man sucked in a gasping breath and muttered, "Money."
Cullen gave him a single nod and replaced the rag. "Well, that's easy enough. You can set up a payment schedule through me—and by me, I mean my friend Seth, whom I'll send in when I leave. I'll pay the amount you owe Aro up front.
"Until you repay me, you and my associate Seth can become friends."
The man jerked his head in the affirmative. He wasn't the smartest fellow in the world, but he knew a good deal when he saw one.
Edward addressed the hooligans who'd interrupted his lunch. "I have a guest, so I need to be on my way. But before I go, I need to make sure we understand one another. Please don't think that, because it might be convenient to where you happen to be battering one of Aro's clients, one of my establishments is ever somewhere to bring an activity like this. Am I making myself clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Of course."
"Then have a lovely afternoon. And untie this poor chap…maybe clean him up before you leave. His chin is still bleeding on my floor."
Mr. Cullen walked back towards the main dining room, informing Seth of what he required on the way.
He seated himself beside Jake again with a smile to sell furniture to the homeless, wondering if saving that man's life was worth more dealings with Aro. "Kitchen rivalry. Mousse versus crème brulee. The brulee boys brought out their torches."
"I'm glad I didn't order the mousse, then."
"My feelings exactly. Before the emergency in the kitchen, we were talking about bringing some southern charm to one of my parties. I'd be just delighted if you'd extend an invitation to your friends."
As he was about to pat Jake on the shoulder, Cullen noticed a smear of blood on his hand. He grabbed a napkin with the other hand and wiped it off.
"I will certainly pass it on."
"Excellent. I'll send my driver for you around eight. Call me Friday to let me know how many."
"That's so much trouble."
"Once you see all the cars—and the bedlam when they leave—you'll understand. It's no trouble at all...in fact I'm probably saving myself some trouble as well. Can I interest you in a dessert? I promise you can order whatever you'd like and the kitchen staff will be pleased to make it."
"Oh, goodness no. I'll be asleep before I can get any work done. This has been a top-notch lunch, Edward. I can't believe I've never eaten here before."
"We'll do it again, Jake."
The gentlemen shook hands and said their farewells. Jake realized he'd never asked Edward where in the South he was from. His accent certainly didn't give it away.
On the walk to his office, between wondering about his new friend and looking forward to making a date for the party, Jake thought he saw Bella's husband scurry into a cab. But Michael Newton would never parade around New York City in a dirty coat, much less a torn one.
Ж
Jake had dinner with Jasper and Alice Whitlock that evening. It was less quiet than usual but interesting nonetheless. Alice had invited a young war widow, as well as Emmett and Rosalie McCarty.
No room with Emmett was ever described as quiet.
Over dessert, Jake extended the party invitation and a hush descended over the table. Because the name "Edward Cullen" meant nothing more to Leah Clearwater then the most lavish party she'd ever attended, she stopped speaking just a beat too late.
"…I've never met anyone who was actually invited to…." Flustered, she quickly took a gulp of her sweet tea.
Jasper trod carefully into the silence. "And this chap's name was definitely 'Edward Cullen'? He wasn't maybe 'Collin' or something similar?"
"Definitely 'Cullen' on the stationary with his phone number. I'd been in his office talking to him and a phone call cut us off. I walked back down to the party and, out of nowhere, a butler is tapping me on the shoulder with Cullen's phone exchange information."
Alice tried next. "What does he look like?"
"Tall, brown hair, nice-looking chap. All the ladies seem pretty fond of him even though he never had one on his arm. I never saw him at the party, come to think of it."
Leah spoke again. "He's devastating, Alice. Just the handsomest face I've ever seen. Always more polite than he has to be and eyes…."
Rose and Alice finished for her. "The color of the Gulf."
Leah looked confused. "I've never seen the Gulf of Mexico."
Alice's expression was almost apologetic. "No, sugar. It's what a friend of ours used to say."
Rose stood. "I'll call her. That way she can cry with you, Alice. She'll want to once she's done being angry."
Alice put her hand out to Rose. "Let's have some dessert first. I need a minute to let this digest."
As they turned to go to the kitchen, Leah jumped up. "I've been waited on all night by the pair of you. I can at least help with the coffee."
Jake waited until the door shut to ask who the hell Edward Cullen was to his cousin Bella.
Jasper fielded his query. "Edward and Bella were head-over-heels for one another just before I left for the war. We all assumed they would be married. But Edward's family didn't have much money and the Swans—well, they're 'The Swans.' You know how your uncle is about his reputation. Bella marrying a cotton farmer's son was out of the question.
"So he went off to war and told Bella to wait for him. And she did. She waited five years. Two years after the war was over, she'd gotten no word from him. Emmett and I had connections and asked around for him. No one had ever heard of him—he wasn't enlisted with any branch of the military. We thought he might have been killed.
"She finally gave up on fighting her parents and married Michael Newton."
Emmett snorted like an agitated horse. "Such a little weasel, that Newton kid. Riding his Daddy's coattails and bossing Bella around like a child."
Jasper shook his head. "Oh God, but she was just a shell. Mike knew her before she caved in on herself and didn't care. All he wanted was a pretty face to run his house and make more Newton-spawn."
Jake frowned. "They don't have any children."
Emmett and Rose were still hoping for a pregnancy. He knew about wanting a child. "I hate to say that not bearing a child is ever a mercy, but in this case, I'm not sad that Newton hasn't reproduced."
With narrowed eyes, Jasper looked at Jake. "Do you remember if you told him Bella Swan was your cousin?"
"I called her 'Isabella,' since I thought he didn't know her. I never said 'Swan' or 'Newton' that I can recall. You think there's a chance he doesn't know I'm her cousin? 'Cause I don't. I think he's been hoping someone who knows her would wander through.
"He called me up for no apparent reason and I kept wondering what he wanted. Now I know. He suggested I bring you all to a party as soon as I mentioned you, pounced on it."
"Well then, she doesn't have any business going. She's worlds more normal than she was when she got married—I think moving to New York was a good decision. Letting any piece of him back in can only be bad news. Very bad news." Emmett was suddenly protective of her.
Jasper was trying not to get too carried away. "It's her decision. Hers and Michael's. Maybe Alice will know how to approach it. She has a much better feel for that sort of thing than I do."
On cue, Alice swayed in bearing a tray of parfaits. "I'm sure that whatever you're referring to is nothing but flattering, Mr. Whitlock."
"I'd be hard pressed to come up with something unflattering to say about you, Mrs. Whitlock."
She placed a dish in front of him. "Don't touch yet. Rosie is bringing the whisky sauce."
Emmett bellowed. "Just bring the bottle, Rose!"
Ж
Over glasses of tea and plates of pecan pie the next day, Rose and Alice told Bella more about Jake's lunch with one Edward Cullen.
Bella yawned and moved the pie around on her plate. "This is one of the busiest cities in the world; it might not even be the Edward Cullen we all know. You all go to his party. I'm sure it's worth a visit just for curiosity's sake, if what Leah told you is true. I don't need to go."
Alice looked at Rose, out of ideas. Bella hadn't cracked. There had been no tears, no sadness, no regrets, not even a thrown glass. Before the boys went off to war, she would've thrown something and demanded they go to him right away, if only to yell at him for stringing her along.
Now she'd been numb for so long, those feelings didn't even know how to fight their way to the surface.
A sudden clatter raised Rose and Alice's hopes for the existence of that girl.
"I've dropped my fork. I'll go grab another, Rose."
Once Bella left, Alice put her head in her hands. "It's him. She knows it; we know it. Why doesn't that even cause a reaction? It's like trying to ring a cracked bell. It's just…off. This doesn't even sound like her."
The two women sat quietly, ignoring the facts they both knew. Rose acknowledged them first.
"Mike's gone and done something with his money, I know he has. I heard him telling her to call Charlie and he never wants her to talk to her parents unless he needs money. Maybe it's too much at once. Just keep an eye on her."
The two women quieted as Bella walked back in.
"So what are you two going to wear to this gala?"
Rosalie McCarty had a reputation for her low tolerance of bullshit. She had feigned acceptance of Bella's far longer than anyone would have expected but Bella's question pushed her over the edge. She forced Bella's hand.
"I have a red dress Emmett hasn't seen yet. Alice is borrowing that beaded black one that shows far more than my kneecaps. Can we get ready with you, like we used to do? I'll bring Heidi; she's a magician with hair, even in this humidity."
"I don't want to go, Rose. It's so maudlin. What if it is the Edward we knew? You know how I hate a scene."
Her impersonal, past-tense way of referring to him put the finishing flourish on Rose's irritation. "You are grown and married. So what if it is him? Even if it is your Edward, it would only devolve into something tacky if you let it but you seem to have yourself perfectly under control. And I tend to agree with what you said earlier. It probably isn't him."
"I'm not interested in some carnival in a rich man's backyard, anyway. I won't go, I don't think."
"Go where, Isabella?" Michael Newton liked to make sure his friends knew that he was a man of leisure, working only occasionally and at his own bidding, so he frequently made appearances during the week where he might be seen by those who mattered.
He was dressed for polo, freshly scraped and sweat-covered. Alice sniffed and expected the horse to stride in behind him.
With a wave of her hand, Bella answered casually. "To a party with them tomorrow night. I hate big parties, Michael."
"You never used to, Isabella. We'll go. You need to get out of the house. Tricking Southern plants into growing this far north is not a social life. You need to get out of that silly greenhouse—leave it to the gardener—and out into the world. Where's this party we'll be attending?"
Alice spoke up. "At Mr. Cullen's place, across the Sound. Have you been to one of his famous parties before, Michael?"
His alarm didn't go unnoticed by Bella's friends, though they decided later that they didn't know what to make of it. "Cullen? You don't say. I haven't been to one of his parties, but I have been to some of his restaurants. The food is incredible. We'll have to go."
Bella opened her mouth to object again.
"No, Bella. I'm tired of making excuses for my absent wife. The discussion of whether you are going is over." He wanted to make sure this Mr. Cullen knew exactly with whom he was dealing.
Rose, upset that pushing the matter had ended this way, changed the subject with a story about Emmett and the new butler.
Alice watched Bella's glass shake all the way to her lips.
Rose felt guilty that her manipulation had gone awry and Alice couldn't stand to see her friend on the precipice of another freefall. The two of them hauled Bella into the city under the guise of purchasing a few "necessary things." They acted as if Mr. Newton had already been informed and sent a driver around to pick up her bag.
The remainder of Thursday passed in a haze of wine and room service for Bella.
She cried, on and off, until the next morning. She mourned the loss of her love, and the shoddy replacement that was taking on water faster than she could bail. How could one summer have altered her life so dramatically?
"I can't face him like this. He'll think I gave up on him. I did; I gave in."
Her friends couldn't convince her otherwise.
"Bella, you have a beautiful life…simply charmed—"
Bella cut her friend off before she had the chance too add that no one believed she gave up on Edward. "I think we all know better, Rose. I live in the muck, mired down in my Newtonian façade, throwing more glitter on the mud every time it gets a little too real for me. My parents objected to Edward's lack of net worth but not to Michael's debt. The irony."
Around midnight, they finally fell asleep. All three of them tucked into one fluffy bed, just like the summer of 1916.
Author's Note: