by Gina Ardito
~~~~
I had to admit my sister had a point. In the privacy of my shower stall with the hot water beating away the day’s grime, I allowed myself a glimmer of hope. Maybe Aidan and I could rebound from today’s disaster. He didn’t seem the type to hold a grudge. Could he possibly forgive me? Give us a chance to start again?
After a dinner of eggplant parmigiana and hot French bread dripping with seasoned olive oil, I told Paige about Aidan Coffield. I told her everything: from our first meeting to the verbal warfare we’d exchanged this morning.
“I don’t understand,” she said when I finished. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Of course I like him. I might even be in love with him.”
“So then why did you want to break up?”
I slapped my hands on the table, causing the silverware to clink against the dishes. “Because he’s Aidan Coffield.”
“And you’re Nia Wainwright.” She bugged out her eyes and formed a wide o with her mouth, clapping her hands on her cheeks. “So what?”
“Oh, come on, Paige, it’s not the same thing and you know it. His mother is an Italian countess, for God’s sake.”
“I repeat. So what?”
“Can you imagine how she’d react to me? To her son’s interest in me?”
“I don’t see how it would be any of her business. He’s a grown man. And Nia, he seriously likes you.” Elbow on the table, she rested her head on her hand. “Now shut up and call him. It’s getting late.”
I looked at the phone beside me. “What if—”
“No what ifs. Call him. Now.”
On a defeated sigh, I picked up the phone and dialed his number. I already knew it by heart. After the third ring, his recorded message clicked on. Great. Voicemail. I used the time during his “I’m unavailable to take your call” spiel to get my breathing under control.
At the end of the beep, I sped through my semi-rehearsed speech. “Aidan? It’s Nia. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Would you call me when you get this? Please? I’d really like to talk to you. Explain.”
A fumbling sound filled the earpiece and then he came on the line. “I’m here.”
Icy.
“Umm, hi,” I said. Okay, now what? I glanced down at my notes. Yes, Paige had made me take notes. Thank God. “Aidan, I’m so sorry.”
“You said that already.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Across the table, Paige rolled her eyes in exasperation. I turned slightly away so I couldn’t see her. This conversation beat up my pride enough without my sister’s line by line reaction.
“Is there a point to this, Nia?” he barked. “It’s late.”
“Yes, there is.” I swallowed, took another glance at the words printed in Paige’s block handwriting. “You see, I’ve been struggling with what I feel for you since we met. At first, I thought I was just some late summer fling for you. I mean, I couldn’t understand what someone like you could possibly see in someone like me.”
“Someone like me…”
“You know what I mean. You’re a Coffield, for God’s sake. I’m a nobody. The more time we spent together, the more I worried about why you could be interested in me. I mean, I’m not some beautiful, rich girl with a summer place in the Hamptons and a penthouse in Manhattan. My parents aren’t on any social register. My father never had millions of dollars in the bank.”
“You think that matters to me?”
“At first, yes, I did. After a while, though, I worried more about what you’d find out about my parents.” I took a deep breath before confessing my darkest sin. “I have skeletons in my closet, Aidan.”
“And the Coffields don’t?” he scoffed. “Every family has secrets.”
“Please. Let me finish before you say anything else.” I practically tripped over my tongue to get the explanation out before I gave in to my shame. “Maybe your family has secrets, but they’re not like mine. That’s why I purposely kept our relationship a secret. So that you wouldn’t hear any gossip linked to my parents. I was afraid if you knew me, really knew me, if you found out the truth about my family, you’d want nothing to do with me. That was unfair of me, I know. You deserve better. I should have trusted you, should have confided in you. All I can say is that I’m sorry. I said some ugly stupid things today, but I didn’t mean a word. It was all my fear and shame that kept me from realizing how much you mean to me. I hope you can forgive me. I hope you feel for me a little of what I feel for you.” I took a huge breath. “That’s it, I guess.”
“That’s it? My turn to speak now?”
Did I sense a warm spot in the ice? God, I hoped so. “Yes. Go ahead.”
“I never cared about your family or some stupid gossip. I, of all people know that gossip is never reliable. I truly enjoyed spending time with you. I found you witty and charming and beautiful.”
“Oh.” The heat of a blush warmed my cheeks, and my heartbeat raced. Hope lifted its sleepy head. He still cared. We could work this out.
“And for the record, I may be a Coffield, but that doesn’t mean I have a summer place in the Hamptons or a townhouse in Manhattan. All I have is Piping Plover. My father disinherited me years ago.”
“He did?”
“Yes, he did. You probably have more money in your bank account than I do. So you can bet the old man’s opinion means nothing to me. I liked you, Nia. That should have been enough.” His sigh came out like a hiss on my end of the phone. “But, in all your misconceptions, you did get one thing right.”
“I did?”
“Yes. I deserve better. I deserve better than someone ashamed to be seen with me. You may claim you have feelings for me, but obviously, they’re not as strong as I would have liked. I’m not some monster that needs to be hidden from your family and friends, Nia. Any woman who claims to love me had better be ready to announce it in the Sunday New York Times. She should know how I feel about her without needing reassurance. She’ll want the world to know we’re together because that’s exactly what she’ll get from me. I deserve that, too.”
Hope dropped back into a coma. My skin chilled. “I’m sorry,” I said again.
“So am I. Goodbye, Nia.”
The phone went dead, and so did my heart.
Chapter 26
Paige
I would have expected Nia to crumble after her conversation with Aidan. In fact, she looked like death on toast when she hung up the phone. Bitterness tinged her tone as she shared the blow-by-blow details with me.
“He told me I should have known how he felt about me without needing reassurance,” she summed up. Sinking her head onto her folded arms, she sighed. “He’s right, though. I should have been more honest with him.” Her hands scrubbed her face, pushing her hair into wild, shaggy disarray. “I can’t believe how badly I screwed this up.”
Disappointment pulled me into its inky depths, drowning my hopes for my sister’s love life in a pool of sympathy. “So that’s it then?” I asked. “It’s over?”
“Oh, no.” Lifting her head, she offered me a diabolical smile. “Not by a long shot. Mom was right.”
“Huh?” I blinked.
An unholy light gleamed in her eyes that had nothing to do with the Tiffany lamp hanging over the dining room table. “We’re living proof that misunderstandings shouldn’t be allowed to fester. Imagine how our lives might have turned out if we’d known where Mom was and why she left. I still can’t believe we were adopted and Daddy never told us. All those years I thought…” She shook her head. “I made a mistake, letting Aidan go. Now, I’m going to fix it.”
“How?”
Her lips twisted in a grimace. “He prefers an announcement in the Sunday New York Times.”
Beginning to understand how the wheels were turning in Nia’s head, I couldn’t help but laugh at her distaste. “Oh, ye of little imagination.”
“Exactly.” The diabolical grin returned, along with some evil plot hand-rubbing. “I plan to do sooo much better. If yo
u’ll help me.”
“Are you kidding?” I bounced in my chair. “I’m in. I’m in. What do you need?”
“A game plan and an army.”
“You’re going to kidnap him and hold him hostage until he admits he still loves you?” I suggested.
“Not exactly. Someone else is going to have to distract him so I can give him what he thinks he wants.”
“Well, I know I can count on Sam to help us. He’d do anything for me.” Those warm and fuzzies embraced me every time I thought of my man. “And I bet Mom would be willing to get involved. Who else do you want?”
“I’ll definitely need Iggy.” Nia drummed her fingers against her cheek. “I wonder if Brice Howell could rig a breathalyzer. And I’m going to want to call Karen Brennan at the crafts store first thing tomorrow. She can get me the ribbons.”
“Ribbons? What kind of ribbons?” What on earth was Nia planning? Did she think she could tie up Aidan and make him her love slave?
“You’ll see.”
Much as I wanted to knock my sister down and shake the truth out of her the way I might have when we were little, I knew I’d have to wait until she’d covered all her angles. Nia was a methodical planner, rarely impulsive. I slapped my hands on the table and stood. “Okay, then. You wash the dishes while I make coffee. Then, we’ll start making some lists. I figure it’s going to be a long night.”
A long night proved an understatement. For the next two weeks, I organized everyone else’s activities and made phone calls. Meanwhile, Nia spent every waking moment in her hot spot. If I’d have allowed her to sleep in that glass-forging oven, she would have jumped at the chance. As it was, she rarely saw the sun over those fourteen days.
Amid all of the plans and schemes, I did finagle one surprise Nia hadn’t considered. The coup de grace, in my humble opinion. Sometimes, cleaning out my purse reaped an unexpected reward, and this was one of those times. But I’m jumping ahead of the story right now.
On the thirtieth of September, I completed my last “something new” task: I called Aidan Coffield and asked him to meet me at The Gull and Oar restaurant. Convincing him to leave his precious vineyard the night before its grand opening for the public and press took some major league conniving.
“Please,” I begged. “It’s about Nia.”
“Nia and I are no longer seeing each other.”
Every word came out bitten, which told me he still cared way too much about my sister. Goody.
“I know that,” I told him. “And if she knew I called you, she’d disown me.” God, I hoped my nose didn’t start growing from the lies I told. I didn’t want to become Paigenocchio.
“Maybe you should heed your sister’s wishes.”
Time to turn up the heat. “Please, Aidan? It’s urgent.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you on Sunday morning.”
His sigh of surrender unleashed a chorus of We Are the Champions in my head. I had him on the string. Now to lure him into the trap with a little hustle and panic.
“No, Sunday will be too late! I’m really worried about her.”
“Too late for what? What exactly is going on? Where’s Nia?” The earlier iciness in his tone melted under the heat of frantic concern.
I had to stifle my smile. Oh, yes. Come to Mama. “It’s too complicated to discuss on the phone. I promise I won’t keep you long. Please say you’ll come tonight.”
“Eight o’clock,” he said. “I’ll give you an hour, but not a minute more. I have a lot to do to get ready for tomorrow.”
“An hour will be perfect.” I practically purred my satisfaction and had to commence a quick series of coughs to keep my happiness at bay.
“Are you all right?”
“Uh-huh,” I croaked. “I’ll see you at eight. Thanks, Aidan.” The second I disconnected with him, I dialed Nia, then Sam, and gave each of them the same message. “We’re a go. Eight o’clock. The Gull and Oar.”
Poor Aidan. He was about to have the worst night of his life. With luck, though, the end result would be well worth his inconvenience.
~~~~
At precisely eight o’clock, Aidan strolled into the main entrance of The Gull and Oar. He wore a white, button-down shirt that emphasized his height and broad shoulders with a pair of well-cut jeans. I had no confusion regarding what Nia saw in this Adonis. The two were perfect for each other. Now, I just had to play my part to perfection.
In a pre-approved signal, I placed my purse on the table where I sat in the lounge. Hovering in the corner of the bar, Mom, garbed in a waitress’s uniform, eyed Aidan carefully and requested a very specific drink order from the bartender.
Let the games begin.
“Aidan.” I rose from my seat and waved him over. When he stood near my table, I looked up at him with a relieved smile pasted on my face. I kissed his cheek. “I really appreciate you coming here. I know how important tomorrow is for you.”
He waited for me to return to my seat before settling in the chair across from me. “Then let’s make this fast, shall we? What’s going on?”
I frowned. “Don’t you want to order a drink or anything?”
“No. I have a long night’s work ahead of me.”
“At least get a soda. Or a coffee. Don’t let me drink alone.” I signaled to Mom, the waitress.
Aidan didn’t even glance in Mom’s direction. All his resentment simmered at me. “What’s going on, Paige? Where’s Nia?”
“She’s home, I think.” I took a sip of my club soda and lime.
“You think?” His forehead puckered with his obvious confusion. “So what’s the big emergency?”
“Do you love my sister, Aidan?”
His face tightened. “That’s none of your business.”
“Well, see, I look at it this way.” I took another sip and eased back in my chair, totally relaxed. “I’m pretty certain Nia loves you. And she’s my sister. That makes your feelings toward her my business.”
He glanced around the bar area, as if seeking Nia. Or an ambulance. “There is no emergency, is there?”
I said nothing, allowing him to simmer in his own juices. Behind him, in a perfectly choreographed dance, Mom maneuvered herself, laden down with a tray full of drinks, directly into Aidan’s path.
“That does it. I’m outta here.” He shot to his feet.
As he rose, his shoulder collided with Mom’s tray, tilting it at a ridiculous angle. Three very large whiskey sours slid down, splashing all over him.
“Oh, my God, sir, I’m so sorry!” Mom gave the performance of a lifetime, feigning distress as she set down the empty tray and grabbed a fistful of napkins to blot the mess. She patted his sodden hair, then worked her way down his ruined white shirt, until he shook her off.
“Stop. Enough. Stop.”
“But, sir, I—”
The smell of whiskey surrounded Aidan like an alcoholic cloud, and his fury boiled over. “Stop. Leave it. Just leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry,” Mom repeated. “Let me get the manager. We have to make this right, sir. I’m sure he’ll want us to cover your cleaning bills and, of course, dinner tonight is on us.”
“Do I look like I want to stay for dinner?” Sighing, he brushed a hand down the front of his shirt. “Get out of here.” Then he turned his ire on me. “I don’t know what game you and Nia are playing, but I really don’t appreciate it. Especially not tonight. I’m done wasting my time.” He turned to leave, whiskey droplets creating a trail behind him.
I made a half-hearted attempt at convincing him to stay with a weak, “Aidan, please, wait,” but he continued out the door without ever looking back. I counted to ten, then picked up the phone and dialed Sam. “He’s all yours.”
Once I hung up, Mom bent to kiss my head. “Looks like my work here is done. Don’t forget to call me and tell me how this all works out.”
I grinned up at her. “I will. You’re coming back for Thanksgiving, right?”
“Definitely. I love you, baby. Sa
y goodbye to Nia for me.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Once again, my mother left Nia and me. This time, though, I knew she’d remain close, not only in our hearts, but in reality.
Chapter 27
Nia
I’d thought of everything that night. And it all went off without a hitch. After Aidan left Paige at The Gull and Oar, he was allowed to get about half a mile up the road before Sam pulled him over with his cruiser lights flashing. One whiff of the whiskey soaking his clothes convinced Sam to insist that Aidan take a breathalyzer test. Too bad the breathing apparatus had been doctored by Brice Howell to report a false positive. At least, too bad for Aidan.
Good for me.
Sam had no choice but to take Aidan to the drunk tank, where he spent the night “sobering up.” Very early the next morning, I made my way to Piping Plover Vineyards. Since Aidan had introduced me to most of the workmen the day I’d visited, no one questioned my appearance there before the grand opening to help with the last minute details. In fact, two of the guys unloaded the heavy boxes from my car. After they schlepped my very special surprise into the tasting room, I shooed them away so I could set up.
Paige and Sam met me at the vineyard for the grand unveiling. At approximately nine-thirty, Sam called the precinct to have Aidan released “until his hearing could be set.” I bet the deputy who opened the cell heard quite a few invectives, but Sam assured me they were all accustomed to the angry hangover that was a routine part of the morning after in the drunk tank.
Aidan’s car pulled into the driveway shortly before ten o’clock. I stood alone on that glorious marble portico as he stepped out. His eyes narrowed to slits when he saw me.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“You invited me,” I said, then pretended to get my first appraisal of his stained clothing and rumpled appearance. I gasped and reached a hand toward the brown stains splotching his white shirt. “What happened to you?”
“Ask your sister,” he muttered through clenched teeth as he strode up the steps.
“Paige? Paige did this to you?”
