Summer's End (Wildflowers Book 5)

by Jill Sanders

  He had a fear that the closer they got to her father, the farther she would grow from him.

  When the taxi stopped in front of a simple brownstone, he turned to her.

  “Who did Owen say owned this?” he asked Aubrey as he helped pull their bags from the trunk.

  “He didn’t. Only mentioned that we had it for as long as we wanted.” She shrugged and took her smaller bag from him as she looked up at the four-story building.

  “The entire place?”

  “Yes. He said there’s a car in the garage out back. The keys are on a hook in the kitchen.” She pulled out her phone. “The code for the door.” She held up her phone as they stopped in front of the two iron doors.

  He punched in the code and motioned her inside a small foyer.

  “Let’s explore.” She set her bag down at the base of the stairs and motioned towards the hallway.

  He followed her through a narrow parlor filled with leather sofas, fine art, modern furniture, and absolutely no personal items at all.

  “This is set up like a rental,” she said as they walked towards the back of the building into a small office. “I think…” She frowned. “Let’s find the kitchen.” She headed down the stairs.

  When they walked into the massive space she laughed. “Isaac’s.” She motioned to the only personal picture. “This is Isaac’s place. I recognized his style.” She laughed at the picture of Isaac and his wife. “No wonder we can have it as long as we want. They only come back to the city during the holidays.”

  “He mentioned something about keeping his place in the city and renting it out,” Aiden remembered with a sigh. He chuckled. “So, the mystery is solved.”

  “Hannah must have arranged this part for us. She’s known him for years.” She turned around and walked through the kitchen into the dining area. “This place is great. Let’s see what else there is to find.” She headed down a set of stairs again.

  Here, in the basement, there was the laundry room, a small storage room, a bathroom, and a little home gym. They headed back up the stairs, and he grabbed their bags as they climbed up to the top two floors.

  The main bedroom was on the top floor. The walls were covered in white and black wallpaper with a massive king-sized bed complete with a very modern canopy bedframe.

  “Guess they like black and white?” he said as he set their bags on the bed and then motioned towards a small staircase.

  “Want to see what’s up there?” he asked.

  She smiled as she nodded. They climbed the stairs and stepped out onto a private rooftop garden. Even though they were surrounded by tall buildings, there was enough privacy here to enjoy the outdoors.

  “Nice.” He did a full circle. “Surrounded by the urban jungle,” he joked.

  “I miss the country already.” Aubrey sighed and wrapped her arms around herself.

  Walking over, he pulled her close and her eyes softened.

  “We’ll only be here for a short time,” he promised her.

  “You don’t know my father.” She closed her eyes, and he felt her shiver. “Why put off the inevitable. I’ll shower and change.”

  He frowned down at her. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”

  She laughed. “Like I said, you don’t know my father. You know that suit I asked you to pack?”

  He nodded. “Yeah,”

  “You’ll want to wear it for the first act.” She leaned up on her toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “For what is about to transpire, I’m sorry. And, I’ll remind you, you volunteered for this.”

  He chuckled and leaned in to slowly kiss her back. “So far I have no regrets.”

  “You will,” she added as they made their way back down the stairs. She took her bag and started towards the back room, which he assumed was a bathroom. “So, are you planning on sleeping in here with me?”

  He chuckled and picked up his bag. “I’ll head down to the next floor and pick a room there. For now,” he added as he left.

  He knew he was messing with her, but he couldn’t chance losing the little control he had over her. If this new plan didn’t work, he doubted his heart would recover from the damage she’d done to it.

  “Fine,” she said before slamming the bathroom door.

  He chuckled loudly enough that he knew she’d be even more pissed at him.

  Good. If she was mad at him, she wouldn’t be thinking of what was to come. The conflict with her father would probably be one of the hardest things she’d ever had to deal with. At least from what she’d told him about the man and from what he’d read about Harold Smith.

  He thought about all the possibilities as he showered and changed in the guest bedroom’s bathroom.

  Harold Smith had been born into wealth, his grandfather having owned one of the more successful iron works companies in New York during the industrial age. Young Harold had attended the finest schools and shortly after graduating Harvard had built several multi-billion-dollar companies before he’d hit fifty.

  He’d been in his late fifties when he’d met Nora Murphy, Aubrey’s mother. Nora had been nineteen and a stewardess on one of Harold’s private jets at the time. However, he’d sold the entire fleet off less than ten years later, shortly after a near fatal crash one winter.

  Now, it was rumored that the man hadn’t left New York after that day and stuck close to his twenty-thousand-square-foot home just off of Central Park. He was either there or at his main office building less than three blocks away.

  He was a shrewd businessman and had made many enemies and friends in high places, and it was whispered about some of his low friends as well.

  It was common knowledge in certain circles that he had a daughter, his only living heir. The man had never been married and tended to not have any affairs. None in the public eye at least.

  Pulling on the suit, he glanced at his own reflection and winced. It would be apparent to anyone looking at him that he didn’t belong in such fine clothes. He was built for faded jeans with a tool belt hanging off his hips. He was meant to walk in the woods and live off the land, not deal with city dwellers.

  Still, he had to admit, the suit he’d purchased with the help of Owen’s tailor looked better on him than the old suit he’d had.

  “Ready?” Aubrey asked from the doorway. He turned, the silver tie he’d been about to attempt to put on himself held in his hands. Aubrey stood in the doorway dressed in an off-the-shoulder black dress that had a pencil skirt. She looked just as uncomfortable as he felt in her heels and the dress. “Here.” She glided across the floor and took the tie from his hands. “Let me help you.”

  He ran his eyes over her face as she worked on his tie. Her skin was porcelain perfect. Not a blemish on her. She wore only a light dusting of makeup that accented her eyes and lips.

  Her long red hair was twisted into an intricate knot at the nape of her neck. She not only looked professional, but she looked like she could be in mourning. Which fit the bill for their first encounter with her father.

  “Ready?” she asked when she’d finished with his tie.

  “Are you?” he asked, his hands moving up and down her arms. He realized she was chilled and tried to warm her arms by rubbing them.

  “I am,” she said after a deep breath.

  He took her hand as they walked down the stairs together. “Do you have a jacket?” he asked her.

  She glanced over at him. “It’s not really cold…” He opened the front door and a gust of wind rushed in, making her shiver visibly.

  “I’ll head up the stairs and get it,” she said with a sigh.

  “Tell me where it is—”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You hail a cab. I don’t want to show up at his place in Isaac’s car. I’ll get the coat.” She started up the stairs as he glanced out the front door.

  He stepped onto the curb, but instead of trying to find a taxi, he pulled out his phone and had an Uber heading their way.

  A dark sedan rolled by him
slowly, and Aiden felt his spine tense as he watched a man roll down the passenger window and point a camera at him. He took a step closer just as Aubrey stepped out of the front door. The man snapped a picture of her before speeding off.

  “Did you get us a car?” she asked easily as she stopped beside him on the sidewalk.

  “I did.” He frowned as the sedan turned the corner. “It should be here…” He stopped when their ride pulled up in front of them.

  “There’s a restaurant a few blocks from my father’s place. We’ll grab some food before we head over.”

  “How far are we from your father’s place?” he asked as they settled in the back seat.

  She glanced around and narrowed her eyes at the street signs. “About twenty blocks.” She sat back. “Which could mean a five-minute drive or a two-hour drive.” She chuckled. “One of the reasons I don’t miss the city.”

  He thought about the dark sedan as they slowly made their way across town. He took in little of the city and instead focused on how someone would have known that they were in town. As far as he knew, their plans had only been shared with a small group.

  “Did you tell anyone else we were coming?” he asked her as they turned towards the park.

  “No,” she answered with a slight frown. “Why?”

  He debated telling her about the sedan, but before he could respond, the car stopped.

  “I’m starved,” she said as they stepped out onto the curb. “About the only thing I’ve missed in this city is Mrs. Grimaldi’s sandwiches.” She motioned to the small shop.

  When they stepped in the sandwich shop, she stopped and took a deep breath. “Ah, I’ve missed that smell. Nothing against Isaac, but Mrs. Grimaldi’s soup is the best thing ever.”

  She motioned to a small table, and he followed her and sat down.

  They ordered sandwiches and soup and talked about their plans for dealing with her father.

  “I don’t know how this is going to go down, but the only thing I can do is warn you that there will be a serious lack of emotion on his part.”

  “And you?” he asked.

  She frowned down into her soup. “I’ll play my part.” Her eyes moved up to his. “Which will annoy Harold,” she added with a slight smile.

  He chuckled. “Looking forward to that part?”

  She shrugged. “And setting him straight finally.”

  They finished their meal. He had to admit, the soup was pretty amazing. It surprised him that she knew a couple of the waitstaff by name. They acted like it had been weeks rather than years since they’d seen her last.

  “We can walk from here,” she suggested as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  He took her hand and enjoyed the cooler air as they headed away from the shop area.

  “Show time,” she said, stopping on the sidewalk. She took several deep breaths and closed her eyes for a moment. “Ready?” she asked when she opened them again.

  “Are you?” he asked her.

  “No, but this has to be done.” She straightened her shoulders and glanced over at a massive home.

  He followed her gaze and held his breath. He’d seen pictures of the twenty-thousand-square-foot place when he’d researched her father. But pictures didn’t properly show how truly massive the home was.

  A huge iron gate that surrounded the entire front of the five-story sandstone building had no sign of who lived inside on it. Aubrey stepped up to the security camera and rang the bell.

  “Yes?” a man’s voice sounded moments later.

  “Carl? It’s Aubrey,” she replied. “And guest.” She looked back at him.

  The gate buzzed and he easily pushed it open. He held it for her until she passed through it, then stepped in behind her.

  “Just… go with it,” she said with a slight shake of her head.

  “Going,” he agreed as the tall iron front door opened for them. A short woman with silver hair waited for them to enter.

  “Martha.” Aubrey nodded her head and started to remove her jacket.

  Aiden rushed to help her and then handed it over to the older woman.

  “We weren’t expecting you, Miss Smith,” Martha replied.

  “No, I suppose not.” She glanced around. “I would have thought that after everything the estate would be in disarray and the wolves would be knocking down the doors.” She motioned around the large marbled entryway.

  There were three stairs that led up to another marbled sitting area. Gold iron gates under a massive arch blocked the entryway from the rest of the home. It reminded him of a lobby in a bank instead of the entrance to someone’s home.

  This is where she’d been raised? No wonder the camp was her favorite place in the world. Anywhere was better than living in a stuffy museum.

  “What… has happened?” Martha asked with a shake of her head as her eyes ran over Aubrey’s face.

  “So,” a loud voice boomed through the hallway, “you’ve finally come back to collect.”

  He watched Aubrey closely. She was an amazing actress and even paled slightly as her father walked towards them.

  “They…” She cleared her throat as she shook her head, all while her hand rose slowly to her throat. “They told me you were dead.” She leaned on Aiden as he wrapped an arm around her as if to steady and support her.

  Harold Smith was as old as she’d described. His white hair was neatly cut and styled, and he wore a dark grey suit that made him appear as if he was ready to head into work.

  He walked like a man still in good health even if he moved slower than most.

  The man’s silver blue eyes, which matched Aubrey’s perfectly, ran over him slowly then dismissed him quickly to respond to his daughter.

  “They told you what I wanted you to hear,” he said, his voice echoing in the marble room. “Well, come in.” He turned and disappeared into the house.

  Aubrey looked up at him, and he realized that she’d been shaken at seeing the man again. His arms tightened slightly around her.

  “You okay?” he asked softly.

  Instead of answering, she nodded.

  Walking through the gold gates, they passed by a twisted gold and iron staircase. A two-story gold chandelier hung over the marble stairs. There were even gold-leaf decorations on the ceiling that twisted around the staircase. There was no comfortable furniture. Instead, antique furniture, no doubt more expensive than anything he’d ever own, was neatly placed around the rooms.

  There were no warm rugs, no tasteful paintings hanging on the walls. Actually, the only thing decorating the walls was a massive mirror with a gold leaf frame that hung over a matching table.

  When they stepped into a two-story study, he realized that this was the room where Harold Smith spent most of his time.

  Here there was warm wood and comfortable leather chairs that faced a massive desk, which sat in front of a fireplace. A fire crackled in its massive hearth, warming the space.

  Harold moved over and sat behind the desk before motioning to the two leather chairs. “Sit,” he demanded.

  Aubrey moved to the other side of the desk, but instead of sitting, placed her hands on the wood and leaned across it.

  “You had your lawyers lie to me? Why?” she demanded.

  “Did he actually tell you I was dead?” he asked. Aubrey’s eyes narrowed. Her father’s left eyebrow rose slightly. “How else was I supposed to get you back here? You’ve made it very apparent that, short of my death, nothing would bring you back to the city.”

  Aubrey’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve had your fun…” She turned and grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the door.

  “Aubrey,” her father’s voice boomed. “Enough games.”

  She stilled and glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t play games. I’m not the one who lied to get me back here.”

  Harold opened his mouth to answer, but just then his gaze moved to a spot beyond them.

  Aiden and Aubrey both turned and watched a young blond-haired
woman stroll into the room as if she was late for the party.

  The fact that the woman was wearing diamonds and an evening gown in the middle of the day had them both stopping.

  Then Aubrey stiffened.

  “Bridgett?” Aubrey gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Chapter 15

  Aubrey had only seen pictures of the woman before. Wedding pictures of the woman standing in front of them now with Zoey and Scarlett’s father, Jean Rowlett.

  But Aubrey knew all about Bridgett Rowlett. The woman, who was a mere fifteen years older than she was, had been the cause of her best friends’ parents’ divorce.

  Shortly before Zoey and Scarlett’s father’s death of cancer two years ago, Bridgett had divorced Jean Rowlett, owner of R&R Enterprises, a company whose power and reach rivaled that of one of her own father’s businesses.

  When Bridgett found out about her ex-husband’s death, she’d tried everything she could to get her hands on the man’s remaining money. But their father had changed his will after the divorce and the sisters had spent some of their inheritance on helping out with the camp.

  The sisters had decided to use it to build a few more cabins, which had boosted the business greatly.

  Bridgett narrowed her eyes. “Do I know you?” It was the slight smile on the woman’s lips that had Aubrey’s temper growing.

  “Don’t play games with me,” Aubrey hissed. She stormed across the room towards the woman.

  How the hell had her father and Bridgett met in the first place? Was she working for her father?

  Had Bridgett learned about Aubrey being Zoey and Scarlett’s friend and then hunted down her father in hopes of getting her hands on his money like she had Jean Rowlett’s?

  Zoey had informed her that Bridgett had gotten a lot of their father’s money in the divorce, but the last she’d heard, the woman had blown through it. The last the friends had heard of Bridgett, she had been working as a dancer in Vegas.

  How long had she been in New York?

  Aubrey watched Bridgett lay her hands, which had extremely long manicured fingernails painted in a hot pink, on her father’s shoulders, as if they belonged there.