Fern Michaels - Dear Emily

Dear Emily

Also by Fern Michaels

Mr. and Miss Anonymous

Up Close and Personal

Fool Me Once

Picture Perfect

About Face

The Future Scrolls

Kentucky Sunrise

Kentucky Heat

Kentucky Rich

Plain Jane

Charming Lily

What You Wish For

The Guest List

Listen to Your Heart

Celebration

Yesterday

Finders Keepers

Annies Rainbow

Saras Song

Vegas Sunrise

Vegas Heat

Vegas Rich

Whitefire

Wish List

Dear Emily

The Sisterhood Novels:

Razor Sharp

Under the Radar

Final Justice

Collateral Damage

Fast Track

Hokus Pokus

Hide and Seek

Free Fall

Lethal Justice

Sweet Revenge

The Jury

Vendetta

Payback

Weekend Warriors

Anthologies:

Silver Bells

Comfort and Joy

Sugar and Spice

Let It Snow

A Gift of Joy

Five Golden Rings

Deck the Halls

Jingle All the Way

FERN MICHAELS

Dear Emily

ZEBRA BOOKS

Kensington Publishing Corp.

http://www.zebrabooks.com

For my good friends,
Carol and Bob Ventimiglia

Contents

Part One

Chapter 1

E mily Thorn jerked to wakefulness, certain the sound grating on her ears was her husband Ians alarm clock. Then she remembered Ian was off on a business trip. So, what was the sound? She scrunched her head into the feather pillow to blot out the persistent noise, aware of the birds chirping on her windowsill. They were waiting for the seeds and crumbs she set out on the deck every morning. Damn, she must have overslept again. She squinted at the clock: 10:15. Damn, she muttered, its the doorbell.

A moment later she was out of bed, wrapping her robe about her as she stuffed her feet into felt slippers. By the time she got to the front door, struggled with the security alarm, the dead bolt, and the regular lock and opened the door, the Federal Express truck was halfway down the road. She leaned over, picked up the flat envelope, and carried it into the house. She didnt bother to look at the address; obviously it was for Ian.

In the kitchen she fixed the coffeepot, turned on the oven, and slid in a tray of sticky buns, the butter and frosting oozing down the sides. She poked around the refrigerator until she found the butter dish. The microwave would melt it to perfection. She poured a quarter inch of light cream into her oversize coffee mug.

While she waited for her breakfast, Emily ripped the blue rubber band from the morning paper. She yanked at her hair until she got it into an unruly bunch; the rubber band snapped into place. She really needed to get a haircut. She was too old for the long mane she carried around. Crowning glory, my ass, she muttered. Today she would get it cut and styled. It would be something to do, a way to pass an hour or so.

She poured coffee, checked the sticky buns, decided she couldnt wait for them to brown. They were warm and would soak in the melted butter. She used a dinner plate, lining the buns up side by side as she drizzled the butter over them. She ate all six in under ten minutes, finishing her first cup of coffee. She poured again, adding cream as she did so. Now, with her sweet tooth sated, she could glance at the days horror in the paper. As if she cared what went on in the world. Her own personal world was in such chaos she had neither the time nor the inclination to read about societys problems.

Emily rummaged in the drawer for a cigarette. A filthy habit. Ian smoked and he was a doctor so why shouldnt she smoke? She fired up, blew an artful smoke ring, propped her aching legs on the kitchen chair, and drew the paper toward her, bringing the Federal Express envelope shed tossed on the kitchen table closer to her plate. Mrs. Emily Thorn. The sender was Dr. Ian Thorn. Emily blinked. Why would Ian be sending her a Federal Express letter? She pushed it away. He probably wanted her to do something. Ian always wanted her to do something. Someday, just for the pure hell of it, she was going to tally up a list of things Ian had asked her to do over the years. If she didnt open the letter, she wouldnt have to do anything. But then Ian would call for a progress report. Better to open it and get it over with. Whatever it was Ian wanted her to do could be done after she got her hair cut. Ian used to love her long, curly hair, said it made her look wanton when she tossed it from side to side. Emily snorted in disgust. Still, she made no move to open the Express envelope.

Emily was on her fifth cigarette and fourth cup of coffee when she snatched the cardboard envelope, opened it, and took out the letter.

The trembling started at the corners of her mouth, then spread throughout her entire body. She wanted to lean back in the swivel chair, but her body was too rigid. She wondered how she could tremble and be rigid at the same time. Damn you, Ian, damn you to hell. Emily clutched the arms of the chair, twin lifelines, and stamped her feet. She remembered another day, long ago, when a letter had arrived from Ian. On the eve of her wedding. So very long ago

I cant believe Im getting married. Do you believe it, Aggie?

I see the white dress and veil so it must be true, Emilys best friend said.

I wish I wasnt so tired. I still cant comprehend that I worked last night. I must be out of my mind, but Friday night tips are so good I didnt want to give them up. Two banquets and I made a hundred and fifty bucks. Not too shabby.

You look worn out. And yes, you were out of your mind to work until three in the morning. Emily, you are killing yourself.

Maybe so, but look what I have in the bank. Its all paid off for Ian and me. Were finally getting married, seven years late, I grant you, but in a few hours I will be Mrs. Ian Thorn, wife of Dr. Ian Thorn.

Aggies eyes narrowed. Its that white shirt and tie thing, right?

Thats part of it, but I love Ian. Ive loved him since we were in the ninth grade. Hes a part of me just the way Im a part of him.

Right now, off the top of your head, dont think, just blurt the answerhow many times have you seen Ian in the past seven years?

Emilys jaw dropped. Seventy-five? Thats a guessits probably morethats a stupid thing to ask me, Aggie. You have no idea how hard it is for Ian to get fifteen minutes to himself. Most of the time hes half dead. We spoke a lot on the phone, sent cards. A day didnt go by when we werent in touch. We agreed early on that sacrifices would have to be made. We knew what we were doing. We made it. Today is the big day. Ive never been this happy in my life. Ianheshes so happy he cant talk straight.

Aggies lips compressed. Im glad youre happy, Emily. I could never do what you did. She shook her head.

Thats because you and Rob didnt have a dream, a plan. Ian and I did. Im not saying thats wrong for you two. It was right for Ian and me.

You always said you werent going to have a backyard wedding with the potato salad in plastic bowls, Aggie groused.

I did say that. It was silly of me. This wedding is only costing four hundred and fifty dollars. Id rather have this and money in the bank. Ian agreed. Im wearing my aunts wedding gown and Ian is wearing his best dark suit. You have a lovely dress. Its simple, but its what we can afford.

Ians friend is going to take some pictures. You made the wedding cake as your gift to us. So, whats missing?

Nothing, I guess. I just want you to be happy, Emily.

You keep saying that. Right now I am the happiest almost-bride in Scotch Plains, New Jersey.

Sit still so I can cover the dark patches under your eyes. Dont blink, Aggie said, sponging makeup under Emilys eyes. Im going to use some extra rouge, your skin is too pale. A little sun wouldnt hurt you, Emily.