The Replacement Wife (9 page)

Q
uentin was having a rough morning. The previous night's storm had interrupted his sleep multiple times, and his alarm clock was annoying him with its incessant buzzing. When he finally did get out of bed, he stubbed his big toe on the corner of his solid oak armoire, sending ripples of pain through his foot and profanities through the air.

The last thing Quentin needed this morning was excitement. He just wanted to have his protein shake and go to Transitions for a while.

He looked all over his bedroom for his cell phone and couldn't find it. Then he remembered; he'd left it in his office the night before on purpose. He hadn't felt like talking to Chloe, so if she'd called he could truthfully say he'd missed it.

Quentin stepped inside his office to take his phone off the desk and noticed a pretty bouquet of flowers. As grumpy as he felt, the blossoms made him smile. It was a pleasant surprise, and he wasn't used to getting those very often.

Now in a better mood than when he rolled out of bed, Quentin went downstairs to make his protein shake. It was his normal breakfast, along with some fruit. He ate healthy during the week, for the most part, and let loose on the weekend. It was how he'd avoided that middle-age gut some of his friends had acquired.

As he neared the kitchen, Quentin's senses noticed two things. Noise—a lot of it. And the scents of cinnamon and vanilla. All of a sudden that protein shake was incredibly unappetizing.

When he heard the children's voices, Quentin expected his mother to be in the kitchen with them, but instead it was Montana. Four of his children, all except Deirdre, were hanging out in the kitchen with Montana while she flipped French toast on the griddle.

Quentin also noticed the vases on the countertops and on the table, filled with vibrant fresh flowers. But as stunning as those flowers were, they didn't come close to outshining Montana's beauty. She was wearing sweats, and her big hair was pulled into a high ponytail. The sight of her caught Quentin completely off guard.

There was something about her—a glow. Something that radiated from inside. Maybe she was just a happy person. No, Quentin thought, it's more than that. It looked as if she'd never been sad. It was a quality most people lost when they experienced a heartbreak or suffered a loss.

The children were playing a game of charades with Montana, and they were laughing and keeping up such a racket that they hadn't noticed Quentin in the doorway. He quietly observed them from his post and enjoyed the fun.

Danielle was the first to notice Quentin. She ran over and hugged his waist. “Daddy! Are you hungry? Ms. Montana made French toast. I told her it was your favorite.”

“Good morning, Mr. Chambers. I hope we didn't wake you.”

Quentin walked arm in arm with Danielle over to the table. “No, you didn't. This house is so big, a fireworks show could've been going on down here and I wouldn't have heard it in my room.”

“Oh, good,” Montana said. “ 'Cause we were getting a little rowdy in here.”

“Rowdy is cool. It's spring break, y'all are supposed to be cutting up.” Quentin motioned toward the flowers. “Did you do this too?”

Montana smiled. “The twins and I went out and gathered flowers this morning. They're from the property. You like?”

“I guess I could use some floralization. It's nice.”

Danielle scrunched her nose. “Daddy, floralization is not a word.”

“He made that up on purpose, dummy,” Morgan said.

“Don't call your sister a dummy,” Montana said. “She is very, very smart!”

Danielle stuck her tongue out at Morgan, and Morgan laughed. Quentin sat back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. The kids seemed to really like Montana. Quentin had to give his mother credit for this whole nanny idea.

“Should we give your daddy the first French toast?” Montana asked.

Reese said, “You should give both men some first.”

“You are not a man,” Madison said.

Madison took the plate from Montana and sat it in front of Quentin. “Eat up, Daddy. I know it's not those nasty shakes you usually have, but it's better!”

Quentin picked up a fork. “I'll be the judge of that.”

He took one bite and shuddered at the deliciousness of the French toast. There was a nutty flavor in addition to the cinnamon, and it was the perfect combination of crispy at the edges and soft and buttery in the middle.

“This is really good, Montana. Thank you!”

Montana smiled, and Quentin felt butterflies in his stomach. Then he felt ridiculous for the butterflies. He was a grown man. Grown men didn't get all twisted about a pretty girl.

But the butterflies continued.

Quentin ate a few more bites and stood to his feet. He couldn't take Montana and her smiles anymore this morning. She was making him feel lame.

“You leaving, Mr. Chambers?”

Quentin paused before answering Montana's question. The tone of her voice made him think she wanted him to stay.

“Um . . . yes. I've got some runs to make.”

“You should stay and hang out with us,” Morgan said.

“Do you all have anything planned?” Quentin asked.

“They want to go to the mall. Girl stuff,” Reese said. “Save yourself, Dad.”

Quentin frowned. “The mall? How about I just give y'all a credit card?”

“That's what's up!” Madison said. “Hand it over!”

Quentin said, “Okay, I was thinking you were gonna be like Mary Poppins, but you're a chef too? What don't you do?”

“There's quite a bit I don't do! I'm just putting my best foot forward. I want you guys to like me.”

“Well, we definitely like you. Keep up the good work.” Quentin wished he had a rewind button to press. He thought he sounded way too enthusiastic on that last comment.

He was rewarded with another big smile from Montana. “Maybe you can hang out with us another time, Mr. Chambers. We'd be glad to have you.”

“Okay, y'all. Enjoy the day.”

On the way out of the kitchen Quentin ran into Estelle, who was still wearing her lounging robe. “Mother, are you feeling well?” he asked. Estelle always got dressed when she woke up.

She nodded. “I'm just feeling lazy today, and I smelled breakfast cooking, so I came down. I thought it was you cooking.”

“No, it's Montana and the kids.”

Estelle lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “They sound like they're having fun.”

“They are.”

Estelle made a satisfied little noise before stepping around her son and continuing to the kitchen.

“Quentin,” Estelle called when Quentin was at the bottom of the staircase.

“Yes?”

“You're welcome.”

Quentin laughed out loud. Estelle never waited for thanks. She commanded it.

“Okay, Mother. Okay. You were right! The kids needed a nanny.”

Estelle gave Quentin a knowing smile as if she knew about the butterflies. She couldn't possibly. Could she? Quentin put one hand on his stomach in an effort to calm them and rushed away from his mother.

He was a grown man. He didn't need a nanny or insects in his stomach.

M
ontana happily cleaned up the kitchen after making breakfast with the children. The Chambers family had a maid, of course, but Montana was taught to always clean up after herself. Her values hadn't changed when she'd moved into a mansion.

Singing always helped her work go by more quickly, so she practiced the song they were going to sing at church on Sunday. It was an old Andrae Crouch song called “We Are Not Ashamed.” Montana simply loved the song, and she felt so honored when the choir director asked her to lead it, along with one of the brothers.

When she got to the chorus part, Montana belted, “We are not ashamed!” at the top of her lungs. Then she caught herself and lowered her voice. She remembered Quentin wasn't all that fond of church, and that probably included gospel music. He was gone on his errands, but maybe one of the staff would tell him. Things were going well with Ms. Levy, and Montana wanted to keep it that way.

“Ms. Montana?”

Montana jumped at the sound of Morgan's voice. “Yes, honey? Do you need something?”

She shook her head, and then Madison tipped into the kitchen too. Morgan said, “Please don't stop singing. Our parents used to sing that song all the time.”

“They did? Mr. Chambers can sing too? I knew he could play, but I didn't know he could sing.”

“He doesn't sing anymore,” Madison said. “No one sings anymore in our house.”

“Well, I sing! Only I do it in my room with the door closed,” Morgan said.

Montana's heart ached for these children. It was like they were all trapped in cages waiting for the jailer to arrive with the key and set them free.

“Singing should be heard,” Montana said. “I'm going to sit down, and I want you to give me a concert.”

Morgan covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. “What should I sing?”

“Whatever you want!”

Morgan cleared her throat, closed her eyes, and launched into a beautiful rendition of “Killing Me Softly.” It was a take on Lauryn Hill's version, and Morgan's voice was perfect for it. Then, on the chorus, Madison came in on the harmony parts. Their voices blended seamlessly.

When they were done, Montana gave them a round of applause. Danielle had joined them in the kitchen, and she was clapping too.

“You girls sound incredible! Why aren't you in the youth choir at church?”

“Daddy won't let us,” Danielle said. “I can sing too.”

Montana gave the youngest girl a hug. “You can?”

“But Deirdre sings the best,” Madison said. “Her voice is ridiculous. One time she sang at a talent show at school. We went, but no one told Daddy.”

“Go and get Deirdre. I want to hear her sing too,” Montana said.

Danielle scurried out of the kitchen to get her sister. Montana beamed at the twins.

“I can't believe you guys have been keeping all this good singing to yourself!”

Deirdre limped into the kitchen behind Danielle. She looked annoyed.

“What?” Deirdre asked.

“Your sisters tell me you are an awesome singer! I want to hear it!”

Deirdre rolled her eyes at her sisters. “Y'all better be glad Daddy isn't here with all this singing y'all doing.”

“Sing! Sing! Sing!” Madison, Morgan, and Danielle chanted and giggled at the same time.

“Okay, rugrats.”

Deirdre cleared her throat and started snapping her finger. Then she sang Adele's “Rolling in the Deep” like the song was written for her. She sounded so good that if she wanted a record deal, she could get one that very day.

“Wow,” Montana said when it was over. “That was incredible.”

“I know,” Deirdre said with a laugh.

Everyone burst into laughter at Deirdre's cocky reply. Deirdre did a little dance where she bobbed her shoulders up and down.

“How do y'all feel about not being able to sing around your father?” Montana asked, changing the lighthearted mood.

The twins looked at each other and then the floor. Danielle had a sad face as well, but Deirdre looked angry.

“It's like he's trying to take away the one thing I remember about my mother,” Madison said. “She was always singing, and she sang with us too. She taught us songs, and we sang them together.”

“Remember this one, y'all?” Deirdre asked before singing “The Shepherd Song.”

Morgan said, “Yes! We were little when she taught us that one.”

“I don't remember it,” Danielle said. “Why can't I remember?”

“You were a baby,” Deirdre said.

Montana had a great idea. “You could learn it now! How would you all like to sing at your grandmother's brunch on Sunday?”

“All of Grandmother's friends come to her Sunday brunch,” Deirdre said. “Daddy wouldn't want us singing in front of them.”

“I know. That's why we won't tell him about it. It will be a surprise.”

Morgan's eyes widened. “Ms. Montana, you are gonna get in so much trouble.”

Montana smiled. She wasn't worried about getting in trouble with Quentin Chambers. Not if it was going to bring music back into this house, where it belonged. The children wanted—no, needed—to sing. It was their legacy, gifted to them by their mother.

Montana also had a sneaking suspicion the music would reach Quentin too. If he fired her after that—well, then, Montana was sure that bringing the music back was her purpose in this household. She had to follow God on this, and her spirit was telling her to lead a miniature Chambers choir. God had never led her wrong before.

C
hloe was determined to have the perfect birthday. It started off well with a morning at the day spa. She had a full-body hot-rock massage, pedicure, and facial, and she tipped very well—on Quentin's black American Express card.

Next she took herself on a shopping spree and treated herself to a new Hermès Birkin bag and several new pairs of Louboutin heels—of course, all paid for by Quentin. He was being quite generous on her special day, and Chloe felt as if she deserved every bit of it. It was exactly what she deserved for being a great girlfriend and future wife.

Speaking of which, since her birthday would be the perfect time to pop the question, Chloe made sure to choose a very romantic new French restaurant called Le Grand Château for her birthday dinner. In case Quentin was feeling matrimonial, the beautiful setting might push him to go ahead and do the inevitable.

Quentin had agreed to dress up for her birthday dinner, and he was looking very delicious in his suit. Chloe was going to have a taste of caramel for dessert too if Quentin played his cards right and came correct on the birthday gift.

“What did you buy me?” Chloe asked Quentin, as the maître d' showed them to their table.

Quentin laughed out loud. “Didn't you just take yourself shopping?”

“That's not the same, and you know it! I'm not going to be a happy camper if you don't have a tiny box of something on your person.”

“Why does it have to be a tiny box?” Quentin asked.

“The best presents come in tiny boxes, sweetie.”

Quentin smiled at the waiter as he approached. “Wine, sir?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, bring me your best Pinot Noir, and Riesling for the lady.”

“Excellent choices, sir. Would you like to order your dinner?”

Quentin nodded. “We'll have the five-course seafood with stuffed rockfish and lobster tail.”

“That comes with dessert, sir. What would you like?”

“Ask the lady. It's her birthday.”

The waiter smiled at Chloe. “Mademoiselle, would you like to try our flan? It is regarded as the best in town.”

“Do you like it?” Chloe asked.

“Oh, I love it,” the waiter gushed.

She doubted he liked it that much, but nodded. “I will try the flan.”

“Wonderful choices. I will be right out with the wine.”

“He's working hard for his tip, isn't he?” Quentin asked. “I thought he was about to start tap dancing and sing us a song.”

Chloe laughed at Quentin's dry humor. “He would if you ask him. He knows a wealthy man when he sees one. Your tip would probably pay all of his expenses for the month.”

Sometimes it bothered Chloe that Quentin didn't seem to understand the power that came with his wealth. He'd never been poor and never would be, so the idea of a life without luxuries was foreign to him.

Chloe knew exactly what it meant to struggle. Her family came from a little town in Alabama called Leeds, and they were dirt-poor. Chloe's grandmother's house had had indoor plumbing for only about fifteen years. She remembered going over there during the summers and enduring the God-awful heat and that disgusting outhouse.

She'd come to Atlanta to reinvent herself, and she'd been successful at it. Now she could send her grandmother money from time to time. When she went home to her family reunions, everyone said she was big-time, and she was—compared to them.

But marrying Quentin would be the ultimate come up. She'd provide everything he needed in a wife, and he'd make her rich beyond her wildest dreams.

She decided to change the topic of conversation from her gift to something Quentin actually seemed to care about—his foundation.

“So I met with your mother a few days ago on the plans for the ball. We're shooting for the beginning of June.”

“That doesn't give you much time to plan, but I trust you to pull it off.”

Chloe beamed. “Yes, I think your mother and I make a great team. We've also enlisted the nanny's help.”

“Montana? She's a party planner?”

“Not really, but she's sweet and eager to please. Plus, she's the tiebreaker between me and Estelle.”

Quentin threw his head back and laughed. “I'm surprised my mother is allowing you to think that. The only employee who might overrule Mother is Ms. Levy, and that's only because they've become friends over the years.”

Chloe was thrilled to hear Quentin refer to Montana as an employee. That's exactly what she was, and Chloe had to keep reminding herself that the young girl wasn't trying to steal her man.

“Yes, well, maybe I'll befriend Montana, and it'll be young Mrs. Chambers and the nanny versus the elder Mrs. Chambers and the housekeeper.”

Quentin's laughter abruptly stopped. “You slid that on in there, didn't you?”

“What?”

“I'm going to let it pass, since it's your birthday. Everybody gets to make wishes on their birthday.”

“I don't make wishes. I make plans,” Chloe said.

Quentin shook his head wearily. “Do you have a theme for the party?”

“We're having a masquerade ball. What do you think?”

He shrugged. “If you all like it, I love it.”

“We do love it. And Montana made the suggestion of having flowers all over the house in different stages, from buds to blooms.”

“Transitioning flowers for Transitions,” Quentin said, nodding thoughtfully while he took in the idea.

“I like the idea too,” Chloe said, although she was slightly annoyed that Quentin had figured out the reason for the flowers without being told. She didn't want him in sync with Montana.

The waiter came back and presented them with two bottles of wine. He poured each of them a glass and bowed deeply as he backed away from the table.

“You know something funny,” Quentin asked, as he took his first sip of wine. He closed his eyes and savored the taste before swallowing. “Montana has been leaving fresh flowers in my office every day. I thought it was one of the children, but it was her!”

Chloe lifted an eyebrow. “Really? Why does she do that?”

“She said that my office is pretty boring, and that she was trying to brighten the place.”

“I could decorate your office if you'd like. Bring in some great interior designers, maybe even tear down a wall. Would you like that?” Chloe asked.

There was a hint of irritation in her tone. She didn't like Montana noticing anything about her man's space. First of all, what was she even doing in Quentin's office? And then to take the liberty of leaving fresh flowers for a man? It sounded flirtatious to Chloe. It sounded like something she would do to get a man's attention.

“No, no. I don't want to redecorate. It was just nice of her to think of that. I appreciated it. Then the kids told her I like French toast. Do you know she and the kids got up and made me breakfast?”

Chloe pouted. “You're going to make me jealous! She's there to take care of the children, not my man.”

“You're jealous of Montana? That's crazy.”

Chloe took a huge gulp of her wine. She hadn't meant to swallow so much, and she choked a little. When Quentin jumped up to help, she waved one hand in the air.

“I'm fine. I'm fine. But yes, I am jealous. I'd like to do those things for you. I want to be there for you. She's known you a couple of weeks, she's under your roof, and already she's doing nice little things for you.”

“She was just spending time with the kids. She's the nanny . . .”

“Yes, but in five years you haven't once mentioned wanting to wake up to me on the other side of your bed.”

Quentin chuckled. “I've woken up many times next to you, Chloe. You're being silly.”

“Yes, in hotels, villas, cottages, bed and breakfasts, and châteaus. But never your home.”

Quentin gave her an incredulous look. “I can't believe we're having this conversation. You know why you can't spend the night. My children live in the mansion.”

Chloe looked down at the table and sighed. “I don't want to spend the night. I want to spend my life.”

Suddenly remorseful, Quentin took Chloe's hand. “I'm sorry if it seems like this is going nowhere. I do care for you very much, but I wouldn't be angry with you if you decided to move on.”

Quentin flipped Chloe's hand over and placed a little box in it. She knew there wasn't a ring inside, based on Quentin's presentation. Instead she opened the box to find a pretty pair of emerald and diamond earrings. They were beautiful, but not what she was hoping for.

“Thank you, Quentin. They're lovely.”

He stroked her face with one hand. “Just as you are.”

Chloe looked up into Quentin's light brown eyes and exhaled. How long would she be able to stand being his woman without the benefit of being a wife? There weren't any other eligible multimillionaires beating down her door. She'd invested too much time in Quentin. Out of common courtesy, none of the wealthy men in Quentin's circle would touch her with a ten-foot pole. And the thought of finding another wealthy, elderly white man, after she'd sampled Quentin's caramel goodness for five years, turned her stomach.

One thing she did know, that French toast was the last meal this nanny was going to cook for her man.

“So how would you like to order some strawberry crêpes?” Chloe asked.

“Oh, they have crêpes? I didn't see that on the menu,” Quentin replied.

Chloe grinned. “I mean at the Ritz. For breakfast.”

“Can we get this fancy French stuff to go?”

Chloe cackled as Quentin flagged the waiter down. There was one thing she did have on the sweet, flower-bearing, breakfast-cooking Montana. Chloe had spent five years learning everything that turned Quentin on, and all the things that didn't.

In Chloe's book, a black lace teddy trumped breakfast any day.