Runaway Tide

by Julie Carobini

Elena scurried to the kitchen to retrieve the aperitivo. Meg had arrived back late last night and had spent much of the day resting, except for an uneventful walk to the Piazza della Repubblica. Somewhat touristy and bland compared to the more spectacular areas of the city she had seen, but she’d welcomed the chance to rest cross-legged on the ground with a group of exhausted parents who watched their children on the square’s merry-go-round.

  “Oh! Speaking of books,” Domenic said, interrupting her musings. “I have a lovely book about the accademia that I want to give to you. A lovely gift from a friend, but I have been there many times and have no need for it. Would you like it for your collection?”

  “I would love it. Thank you, Domenic.”

  Elena put three glasses on the table. “There are too many books in his office. Take more!”

  Domenic opened the Chianti as Elena set before them a board of charcuterie: cheese, crostini, nuts, and sliced salami. “She is always trying to thin out my office, this one.”

  Elena pounded a fist into her side in mock protest. “I ask you, when we die, who will take all those books? You must gift them to people who will love them, Domenic.”

  He nodded, pouring them each a glass of the red wine. He offered up a toast, took a sip, then looked to Meg. “Before dinner, we will go into my study so I can give you the book—and you may take any others that you like.”

  Meg’s phone buzzed from where she had plugged it in near the kitchen table.

  Elena stood. “Go ahead and look. I will go and get us more cheese.”

  Meg glanced at the screen. A text from Jackson.

  Liddy admitted to hospital. No details. Thought you would want to know.

  “Oh no!”

  Domenic’s forehead bunched. “What is it, cara mia?”

  “It’s Jackson. My friend Liddy is in the hospital.” She looked up. “She’s pregnant.”

  Elena added a chunk of parmigiano reggiano to the board. “So she is having her baby now?”

  “It can’t be—it’s too early. Oh … I hope everything is okay. Maybe I should call. I wonder if she can answer in the hospital.”

  Elena touched her hand. “Call her. We will leave you alone.”

  Emotion built in Meg’s throat as her mind lingered on the possibilities. She hated to admit this, but she reminded herself of her mom, always thinking the worst. She caught Elena’s eyes. “No. Please. Will you stay?”

  “Of course. Of course.” The older woman stroked her hand. “I will stay here as long as you like.”

  Domenic touched Meg’s shoulder as he rose from his chair. “I will be in my study until you need me.”

  * * *

  Beau answered when Meg called. “She and the baby are doing fine,” he assured her. “But she will have to stay on bed rest.”

  Meg’s shoulder released. “I am so relieved, Beau. Can she do that at home?”

  “I believe so. And she will have to stay there until the baby is born. No more working. The hotel will have to understand.”

  “I’m sure they will.” Well, everyone but Pepper will.

  “I’ll be hiring someone to come in and cook and do some cleaning, though I’m sure she’ll complain that she is bored.”

  “She’ll get over it! And I promise, as soon as I get home, I’ll come over and entertain her.”

  Beau groaned into the phone, but it came out more like a tortured laugh. “I will leave a stack of chick movies on the table for you.”

  “You’d better!”

  He chuckled. “Be safe, Meg. I will tell Liddy you called.”

  She hung up and Elena smiled at her. “See?” she said. “All is well.”

  Meg’s stiff upper lip dissolved into a messy pile of tears. She put her forehead on her arm, which rested on the table. “I was so … so worried.”

  Elena stroked her hair, her grandmotherly side coming out in spades. “But she is okay. The baby is okay.” She lifted Meg’s chin with her forefinger. “I tell you what. We will pray together for your friend. Then you will have peace.”

  “I would like that.”

  * * *

  Meg wondered, and not for the first time, how much weight she had gained since setting her feet on Italian soil. She cleared the dishes from the table, in awe of Elena who had just begun to braise meat in a large skillet. First a spectacular array of appetizers and now dinner. Between Elena’s love of cooking and the constant draw of gelato in the heat of the day, she knew to avoid the scale for a while after she returned.

  “That smells delicious.” Meg dried the cutting board and put it on the rack. “You spoil me.”

  “Eh, it is my joy!”

  Meg squeezed her into a hug. “Thank you.”

  Domenic appeared in the kitchen. “Would you like to come take a look at my collection of books, Meg?”

  “I hope you have tidied that office of yours first!”

  “Yes, yes, I have.”

  Elena turned to Meg. “Well, then, you may go and take some books. Take a whole stack!”

  Meg laughed on her way out of the kitchen. “There’s a weight restriction on planes, you know.”

  “Ah, but you are so skinny you should get a weight credit.”

  Meg giggled. Hilarious.

  The inside of Domenic’s office reminded Meg of scenes from a legal thriller. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases—one that even covered a window—were filled with books, thick hardbound books, some stamped in gold as well as glossy travel books and paperbacks.

  “Wow. Elena wasn’t kidding.”

  “Elena never kids. She has been after me to give away my books for years.” He looked up, a thoughtful smile on his face. “But from time to time, I enjoy revisiting the books of my career, especially. They stir up memories.”

  She ran her fingers along the spines of several books, reading their titles. “I know what you mean. Reading kept me sane when I was young. Classics, mostly. I have less time now, but I enjoy reading magazines that pertain to my work.” She didn’t mention that Jackson had teased her about this once.

  The credenza near Domenic’s desk held stacks of magazines and a spattering of framed photographs. Meg picked up one of a young couple in black and white. “You and Elena in your wedding?”

  “Yes, indeed. She was a looker—still is.”

  “I’ll say. You both look so happy.”

  She set it down and scanned the others. One of them on Highway 1 in California near Big Sur, one of several young men who looked much alike—probably family members of Domenic’s, another of Elena and a woman who resembled her. She smiled, remembering how Elena traveled to Sienna to shop with her sister, Alice. Though she had no sister of her own, Meg had Liddy—who felt like family.

  “You know, Meg, I believe that William thought of you like a daughter. He always spoke so kindly of you, concerned for your welfare. He had searched for his own daughter and did not find her until nearly the end. I am happy he did, but also I think he gained peace watching out for you.”

  Meg nodded. “I’ve thought about him often. He was like my … protector.” Her voice hitched and she gave Domenic an apologetic smile. “Sometimes I still become weepy thinking about him.”

  “Truth be told, I do too.”

  Meg smiled and continued taking in the magnificent office full of books and photos and mementos of a life lived well. Her eyes landed on another photo on the credenza, this one of Domenic and a young woman with striking green eyes. The way the woman smiled, almost shyly, reminded her of someone, but she could not nail down who. She picked up the frame.

  “Is this a family member?” she asked Domenic. She did not think that he and Elena had ever had children of their own.

  Domenic frowned. “That is Pepper, of course. You don’t recognize her?”

  Meg swung a curious look back at the photo. “Pepper?” She inspected the photo more closely. Green eyes, petite nose, slight parentheses around her smile, and full lips—though unlike the Pepper she knew, these looked real. She peered again, r
ealization enlightening her like a day after rain. The young woman in the photo had a deep cleft chin—like Jackson’s.

  Her mind spun and her chest began to pound from the harsh beating of her heart. “Domenic?” she said. “We have a problem.”

  Chapter 18

  Thomas stared at Jackson, his expression one of suspicion, distrust. The valet sat in a chair opposite Jackson’s desk, his chin resolute.

  “I understand that you and Pepper had a difficult discussion recently.”

  “Yes, sir. She called me out about my uniform.”

  It still felt odd having a contemporary call him “sir.” He and Thomas would have gone to high school together if they’d grown up in the same town. He wasn’t sure he would allow such formalities to continue at the inn. Still, the sight of the valet squirming in discomfort across from him reminded him of the position he was in—and he determined not to take it lightly.

  “What about your uniform?”

  “My collar was up. On one side.”

  “And you folded it down, I take it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jackson felt a scowl cross his face. “Did she have any other issues with your … uniform?”

  He shifted, a confused look on his face.

  “What I mean is, did Pepper talk to you about anything else? Because, frankly, having an upturned collar is hardly a good reason to write up someone for their file.” Maybe he should not be this forthcoming with an employee, but he was starting to think that he—and Pepper—may not be able to extract the best from their staff if they continually felt unfairly targeted.

  “Not really. I mean, she gave me a hard time about talking about—well, you know.”

  “Talking about what?”

  Thomas did not meet his eyes. “About Meg’s accident on the beach, when you were, uh, behind her.”

  Jackson pressed his lips together, the uncomfortable sensation of warmth spreading up his neck and cheeks. “You saw that.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jackson waved his hand in front of him and leaned forward. “Stop calling me sir. You’ve worked here longer than I have. It’s Jackson.”

  Thomas squinted, that suspicious expression back again.

  “Okay, so you saw me chasing after Meg and you saw her fall. And you’ve had your fun talking about it.”

  “And the drone.”

  “Drone?”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the funny part. I’d never make fun of Meg—she’s great. Everybody loves her.”

  “Wait. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you enlighten me?”

  “I mean, that drone dive-bombing you guys was crazy. It seemed to come out of nowhere, and then it was gone in a hurry.” He shrugged. “It’s just a great story. Sorry if I was being rude, though.”

  A low buzz. Something catching his eye. He shut his eyes, remembering the brutal way she had fallen after he’d called out to her. He had been so focused on her—on them—that he’d hardly noticed anything in the sky. Could it have been as Thomas said? Why would someone dive-bomb them with a drone?

  Or had Meg been the target?

  He snapped a look at Thomas, who sat in an uncomfortable silence, as if he was about to be handed a pink slip. Jackson stood and stuck out his hand. “Consider this matter dropped,” he said, shaking Thomas’s hand. “I’ll make sure your HR file is clear.”

  When he’d gone, Jackson shut his office door. Breathe, Riley, he told himself. He turned toward the window, taking in the expanse of sky and water. Unhappy staff. Upside-down financial statements. Now a strange report of a drone following them. “Dad,” he whispered, “what would you do if you were faced with all of this?”

  He turned back to his desk and unfolded the latest P&L report Pepper had given him, the one she’d left with him before saying she would be relocating. He had not heard from her since. He buzzed Sally. “I’ll need you to hold my calls indefinitely.” He turned off his phone and stuck it in his desk drawer to avoid distraction. With his head in his hands, Jackson took a closer look, intent on going through each line of the report, one by one.

  * * *

  “He’s not answering. I think he may have turned off his phone.” Meg turned to Domenic and Elena, who both looked stunned. “What should I do?”

  Elena bounced from the table. “I will serve you both a plate of my meatballs. You need nourishment to think.”

  The last thing Meg could do was think about food. If she could fly back home this minute, she would. She could not call Liddy to get information, not in her current state.

  Domenic gave her a steady gaze. “I think you should, perhaps, call Sally at the hotel and make some inquiries about Jackson. She could tell you where he is.”

  “You’re right. Of course.” She paused. “I’m just so confused by all this, Domenic. How could this be true? I don’t understand how someone could get away with impersonating someone else. And for this long.”

  Domenic gave her a pained expression. “I blame myself. If only I had been able to reach Sophia myself after William passed. I tried many times.”

  Meg reached across the table, stilling his shaking hand with a touch. “You are not to blame for this.”

  “You know, I originally found Sophia living in Italy. Sophia is Pepper’s real name. William had looked for her for years and had come up empty. He believed that she would be in New York, or possibly New Jersey; he had never thought to try to find her living abroad.”

  “Where in Italy?”

  “She lived in the north, outside of Milan. Her mother had dual citizenship, something William had not recalled. After Sophia was born, Rebecca married a man named Agli, I believe it was. I learned this when I found her. Sophia was shy. Quiet.” He smiled, as if remembering. “She told me that she prefers her fabrics over people—she sews quite well. She did not say this in an unloving way. I believe it is her shyness that draws her to create her clothing.”

  Meg shook her head. She could not imagine the woman posing as Jackson’s sister had ever threaded a needle. “Isn’t there some way we could go see her? Jackson deserves to learn the truth. That … that the woman he believes is his sister is … an imposter.”

  Domenic frowned. “The last I heard she had moved to upstate New York, but I could not find any information other than her last known address, which I gave to Jackson. I am sorry to ask you once again, but is it possible that she has changed her hair, perhaps her makeup? Perhaps the woman you know as Pepper is the same as in the photo, but she has changed her looks.”

  “The thought had occurred to me. There is a slight resemblance around the mouth, but,” Meg shook her head, “there is no other resemblance to the woman I know. She is also not the least bit shy or reserved. Oh Domenic, what are we going to do?”

  “Now would be a good time to phone the hotel and see if you can speak with Jackson’s assistant.”

  “Right.” She punched in the hotel’s phone number, her fingers shaky. She said, “Sally Myers, please.”

  The operator patched her through. “This is Sally. How may I help you?”

  Meg settled her breathing before answering. “Good morning, Sally,” she said, noting the time in California.

  “Meg, is that you? I certainly hope you are not working on your vacation.”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. I’m wondering, though, if I could speak to Jackson? I have a … a question for him.”

  “I’m sorry, dear, but he is unavailable right now. Strict orders. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  She bit her lip. Was he unavailable just to her—or to everyone? Daring to ask would give her away, so instead she asked, “I don’t suppose Pepper is available. Is she?” She had no idea what she would say to her if she were to reach her. Hope you look good in stripes, maybe?

  “I’m afraid not. Since you are on vacation, you have not heard the news.”

  “News?”

  “Pepper has decided to relocate to Florida. She will be working out of the Sea Castle
.” She paused. “The staff is delighted.”

  “Which one? Not the Florida staff, I take it.”

  “Now, Meg. That is not appropriate,” Sally said, her tone chastising.

  “Of course not. You’re right.”

  “Would you like to leave Jackson a message? I could connect you to his voicemail.”

  “Yes, please. Thank you.”

  You have reached the voicemail of Jackson Riley. Leave a message at the tone and I will return your call. Thank you.

  The soothing sound of his voice, so familiar to her, caused an ache in her chest. A million thoughts and emotions traversed her mind. She had to warn him about Pepper’s deception, yet she had to keep her feelings toward him separate. This call was not about them, but about Riley Holdings. If she could only keep her personal feelings out of it …

  Beep

  “Jackson.” Hesitation. “It’s Meg. I-I need to speak with you as soon as possible. Call me. Please.”

  She let out some of the breath that she’d been holding. Tears pooled in her eyes.

  “You are trying your very best,” Domenic said. “Do not worry. He will call and we will get to the bottom of this.”

  Meg nodded, fear rising in her. Why would Pepper suddenly up and move to Florida? What if Jackson refused to call her back? If she waited until returning to California to tell him the news, what other havoc might Pepper have time to wreak?

  “If you don’t mind,” she said, “I’d like to call my sales manager in Florida. Sally says that Pepper is relocating there and I think it would be good to stay one step ahead of her until this is all over.”

  “Not until you have eaten your dinner!” Elena placed a platter of rigatoni and meatballs on the table, steam rising from it.

  “Elena is right. We will all need our strength to help Jackson with this problem.”

  Meg blinked. They meant well, and though hunger eluded her, the aroma of tomatoes and spices wrapped her in an embrace. “Thank you. I will try.”

  After they had finished their meal, Elena stood. “Now, I will clean while you go and make your phone calls.” She stopped and put a hand on Meg’s wrist. “I am so sorry about what is happening.”