Finally, Amelia spoke. “Actually, I don’t know if I am the best person to speak to about this.”
Anita’s eyes twitched toward her. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’ve been forced to take a leave of absence, actually,” Amelia blurted out suddenly. A strange grin snaked from ear-to-ear. “So I guess I wouldn’t call myself the number-one employee of Martha’s Vineyard. In a sense, I’m not an employee at all right now.”
The air around the table shifted strangely. Amelia leaped to her feet, unable to make eye contact with her mother or even glance at Mandy. She then gathered her plate and headed to the kitchen, where she turned on the faucet and scrubbed her plate clean. Over the rush of the water, she could hear her mother’s haggard whisper.
“What on earth happened to her! Daniel, do you know anything about this?”
“No, Mom. I think it must have just happened.”
“What has happened to this family?” Anita demanded. “All Amelia’s ever had is that job! How could she mess something up like this?”
Amelia’s eyes welled. She turned up the faucet temperature as high as it would go until it scalded her fingers. She then dropped the plate into the drying rack, dried her hands, and stepped back toward the hallway. She could still make out the strange whispers from her mother at the dinner table.
At least she had taken the spotlight off Mandy, for now.
As Amelia reached for her coat, tears welled and rolled down her cheeks. She buttoned her coat to the top and then turned back toward the doorway, where Mandy stood, with her hand strapped across her stomach. Her eyes echoed back Amelia’s sorrow. They’d both lost something major — their hope for their future.
“Thank you,” Mandy breathed. “Thank you for getting her off of me.”
Amelia stepped toward her niece and wrapped her in a hug. Her voice broke as she murmured, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”
Mandy let out a single sob as Amelia stepped back. They held one another’s gaze for a long time.
“I never needed her,” Mandy said softly.
Amelia arched her brow. “What do you mean?”
“My mother. I never needed her. You were always more than enough. Thank you.”
Chapter Sixteen
The following afternoon, Anita called Amelia several times, but Amelia refused to answer. She dropped the phone back on the couch and readjusted herself against the couch cushion. When her mother finally got the hint, she texted;
ANITA: You can’t hide from me forever.
ANITA: I just want to talk to you.
ANITA: Help me understand what happened.
ANITA: Help me understand what went wrong.
But Amelia couldn’t face it. Throughout her life, she had been nothing, if not perfect. Now, in the wake of her mother’s clear judgment about her situation, she’d begun to wonder just why, all those years, she’d sought perfection. Had it brought her pleasure? Or had it all been for Anita and Jason Taylor, for their endless approval?
Amelia walked away from her phone as it buzzed with yet another message from Anita. Once in the kitchen, she opened the fridge for the twelfth time of the day, inspected the selection of yogurts and various low-fat cheeses, the vegetables that she needed to eat later to ensure they didn’t rot and found that yet again, she wasn’t hungry — just bored. This was a funny concept for her. Boredom had always been a thing she had heard about. In all honesty, she’d never believed in it.
Suddenly, Amelia’s stomach stirred yet again. She walked into the bathroom and she stood, looking at her reflection in the mirror. There was something off about her complexion. Perhaps she needed to make a doctor’s appointment. Perhaps it was finally time to head to a therapist and take a good, hard look at all that inner chaos between her ears.
There was a knock at the door. Amelia tied up her robe as she slipped back out toward the foyer. If she spotted her mother’s vehicle in the driveway, she would think very hard about diving back between the sheets and ignoring her.
But there wasn’t a car in the drive. Curious, Amelia snuck a peek out the window and caught sight of a backpack hanging off of a single shoulder of a terribly familiar girl. When she opened it, she found Mandy — dressed in jeans, a ratty t-shirt, and her long hair hanging in strings yet again. Her eyes echoed back sorrow.
The normal questions didn’t come to Amelia immediately. She didn’t ask Mandy why she wasn’t in school, or why she hadn’t showered, or where her father thought she was. Instead, she swung the door open wide and collected the poor girl in a hug. Together, they gathered under blankets in the living room, sipped hot cocoa, and waited for time to tick away. Time was Mandy’s enemy, and Amelia knew that, but it was also the only barrier between them and the truth.
“I just couldn’t face school today,” Mandy said softly. “I couldn’t face Colin or my friends who were whispering about me gaining weight or the teachers asking me why I’m not paying attention. I wish I could drop out.”
Amelia rubbed Mandy’s upper back as she began to cry. She wanted to tell her that one day, she’d discover that the friends who said stuff like that weren’t actually friends at all. She wanted to say that one day she would find someone better than Colin, someone who treasured her for her heart, her soul and her kindness, rather than her beauty and school popularity.
Of course, Amelia never had. So she wasn’t exactly in a position to be able to say something like that. She bit her lower lip nervously.
“I just keep thinking about what Dad will say,” Mandy whispered. “He didn’t ask me anything when we got home last night, although I know he wanted to. He talked about you, and about how you were always so perfect, and about how he’s worried about you. But I could see it in his eyes. He’s just as worried about me.”
“Of course he is. It’s kind of his job,” Amelia said. “I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”
“I guess I am, too,” Mandy whispered. “Or at least, I’m going to have to learn to be, very soon.”
Their conversation faltered for a moment. Amelia rose to gather up some snacks for the two of them, which left Mandy to flick through the channels and then ultimately find a comedy on a streaming site.
“I can’t even watch any romantic comedies these days,” Mandy explained as she opened a bag of pretzels. “All that love feels like an attack.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Amelia said. “As all my friends got married and had babies, I just felt myself growing in my career. Every step forward felt monumental for me. And now, well.”
“They’ll let you come back,” Mandy offered. “They have to. You basically keep that place running.”
That moment, there was another knock at the door. Amelia checked her phone to find even more unanswered calls and messages from her mother, and her heart swelled with panic. Perhaps she’d finally made her way there, only to discover Amelia and Mandy both playing hooky from their lives.
But when Amelia opened the door, she found herself face-to-face with one of her greatest enemies.
The man who’d ruined her life stood on her doorstep, dressed in an Italian-cut suit, which had certainly cost him a pretty penny; his hair was windswept and gorgeous, as though he’d literally just stepped off his sailboat, and his green eyes caught the soft light of the mid-afternoon.
“Mr. Krispin,” Amelia said, careful to make her voice hard and unwelcoming.
“Amelia,” Oliver returned. He said her name as though it was music.
In fact, Amelia had never heard someone say her name the way he did.
She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly conscious that she wore no bra and had only a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt on under her pink robe.
“Can I help you?” Amelia demanded. “As you can see, I’m incredibly busy.”
Oliver gave her the slightest of smiles. From the living room came the opening credits of the film Mandy had picked, a comedy with Will Ferrell — basically the opposi
te of “work.”
“Yeah. You seem really busy,” Oliver returned.
“Glad you stopped by to insult me,” Amelia said. “I really appreciate you taking time out of your schedule.”
Hurriedly, Amelia reached up and began to push the door closed. But Oliver placed a hand against the wood and steadied it. Her eyes caught his, and again, her heart dropped into her stomach.
“Listen. Amelia,” Oliver said.
“You told me you were headed off the island. You told me you were going to build somewhere else.”
“I don’t want to build anywhere else,” Oliver said. “I told you. I love Martha’s Vineyard. I want to be a part of this island.”
“You already have so many other properties,” Amelia interjected.
“I know that. Of course, I know that. But Zane called me back. He said it would benefit the island to have the resort. I was overjoyed. I thought maybe you’d had a change of heart and were willing to help me with the permits.”
Amelia’s nostrils flared. “Not quite.”
“I understand that now.” Oliver’s shoulders dropped forward. “I can’t believe he demanded that you take a leave of absence.”
Amelia shrugged. “I guess that’s just what happens when you care about something too much. You get screwed for it. I should have known, really. I got too comfortable.”
Oliver turned his eyes toward the ground as though her words had actually injured him. Was it possible to actually hurt someone like Oliver Krispin’s feelings? Couldn’t he just make anything happen, make anyone say any compliment to him, with just the wave of his credit card?
“I feel awful about this,” Oliver said.
Amelia shrugged. “Don’t. It’s a waste of your time.”
Oliver paused for a long moment. Again, Amelia toyed with slamming the door in his face.
“Let me take you out to dinner,” he said.
Amelia chortled. “No. Why would I want to go out to dinner with you?”
“Come on. I owe it to you, after everything that’s happened.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Amelia returned flatly. “I just want to be left alone.”
Oliver palmed the back of his neck. “I might be the only person on the planet who can help get you back to work, you know.”
Amelia’s lips parted in shock. “That sounds like some kind of threat.”
“It’s not meant to be one,” Oliver said. “I just think we should create a strategy. Maybe there’s a way that both of us can have what we want.”
Amelia resented him more than ever. He stood there on her front stoop, terrifically handsome, with his project green-lit and assuredly millions headed his way. Beyond all that, he was right: he was probably the only one who could talk any reason past Zane’s thick skull.
“A business dinner,” Amelia said firmly. She then lifted her hand out to shake his. His grip was sturdy. It seemed to evoke his respect for her.
“Does tomorrow work for you?” he asked.
“Okay.” Amelia dropped her hands to her sides, then asked, “Should I wear this robe or another one?”
Oliver laughed aloud. Amelia was surprised that she’d even mustered the strength for a joke around this horrendous man.
“This one will do just fine,” Oliver said as he stepped back from the door. “You can store your own hot sauce in the oversized pockets.”
“Very good point,” Amelia said as she snuck her hands into those very pockets now. They were lined with wrappers and kleenex. She was grateful he couldn’t see.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Amelia,” Oliver said. “I’ll pick you up at seven. I look forward to it.”
Chapter Seventeen
“It’s not a date.” Amelia flung several different outfits across her bed as she repeated these words to Jennifer. She’d said the words to herself over and over again throughout the morning. Now, as she tried out the words on Jennifer, her voice wavered slightly, as though she didn’t fully believe them.
“Sure. Of course not,” Jennifer said. “It’s just a business meeting that you want to look super-hot for.”
“Exactly,” Amelia said. “I want to beat him in as many ways as I can.”
“But what’s the idea here, exactly?” Jennifer asked as she lifted one of the blouses from the bed and analyzed the stitching across the top of the collar. Anita Taylor had sewn it herself for Amelia’s Christmas present a few years before.
“The idea?”
“Yeah. Like, do you want your job back so that you can work on this resort again? Or do you want your job back so you can get Oliver Krispin off the island? What?”
Amelia struggled with the question. “I don’t want him to build on that land. I’ll do anything to stop it, actually.”
“But what if that means you can’t keep your job?” Jennifer asked.
Amelia buzzed her lips. “I have no idea.”
“It’s a Catch-22, isn’t it.” Jennifer walked toward the side of the room, where she inspected Amelia’s various high-heels. “But you’re right. It’s never a bad thing to look hot. Even on a non-date.”
“That’s why you’re here. I need the Jennifer Conrad approval.”
Jennifer tapped her nose as she inspected the various elements strewn across the bed and lined up on the floor. “I think the short black shirt, the blouse Anita made, the black jacket, and the Bottega Venetta pointed-toe heels.”
“You’re the master,” Amelia said. “All I know these days is slippers and robe.”
“Slippers and robe are about to have a huge season,” Jennifer teased. “You’re really ahead of your time.”
“Fashion-forward, some might say,” Amelia said with a laugh.
Jennifer headed out a bit later, as she had lunch with her son, followed by a meeting at her social media company downtown.
“It’s kind of nice to be away from the bakery today,” Jennifer said as she donned her white spring jacket and flipped her red hair over her shoulders. “I don’t reek of coffee and donuts. And I talked to Mom about maybe hiring another staff member. As much as I love the Frosted Delights, it’s not really my calling, the way it always was Mom’s. You know?”
“You need a break,” Amelia affirmed. “Although I can tell you. Now that I have more time off than I’ve ever had in my entire life, I don’t know quite what to do with myself. I feel like a bump on a log.”
OLIVER ARRIVED AT SEVEN, just as he’d said he would. He was the dependable sort. Amelia had to give him that. Just before he rang the doorbell, Amelia opened the door and stepped out into the fresh spring air. His eyes opened just the slightest bit wider, proof that the way she’d dressed was noticed and appreciated. Mission accomplished. If she could get her job back and reject him all at once, she would feel on top of the world.
“Hey there,” Oliver said.
“Hey yourself.”
“Do you want to grab your robe? Just in case you get cold.”
“I think I can manage without,” Amelia returned.
Oliver’s car suited his brand, of course. It was a swanky-looking vintage Mercedes, charcoal, and it had probably cost upwards of a million, maybe more. To men like Oliver, that was pocket change. He opened the passenger door for her and Amelia slid onto the leather seats and then folded her hands over her lap. She tried to make a deal with her heart to stop its wild, anxious beating. She hoped he couldn’t sense how strangely nervous she was.
“So. Where are we off to for our business meeting?” Amelia asked as he turned the key in the ignition. It felt exhilarating to be so close to him, with his hand on the stick just a few inches left of her knee. Maybe in another reality, she might have imagined or pined for his hand ticking over and wrapping around her thigh.
“I thought we’d head to The Terrace,” he said.
Amelia’s lips parted in shock. The Terrace, which was connected to the Charlotte Inn, was one of the most expensive and swankiest restaurants in all of Edgartown. She’d only been there once for Dan
iel and Suzy’s rehearsal dinner. For this reason, she’d always felt a darkness around the restaurant. To her, it was a symbol of bad luck.
In any case, she had never imagined that she’d ever had a scenario in which she’d be asked out to dinner there.
“I see,” she said as his beautiful car churned out onto Peases Point Way.
“You sound less than enthused.” Oliver’s eyes flashed. “It was recommended to me by an old colleague of mine. I think you might know him. His girlfriend’s name is Jennifer Conrad.”
Amelia wanted to blurt out what she’d learned from Jennifer — that Derek wasn’t so keen on Oliver. But she wasn’t in any position to make him mad.
“The Terrace is one of the better restaurants on Martha’s Vineyard,” she said finally. “And certainly, it’s one of the most expensive. I suppose that’s what you look for first.”
“I like to experience the finer things in life, it’s true,” Oliver offered. “I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. Do you?”
Amelia decided not to answer. She turned her head to gaze out the window. On the corner, she spotted Lola Sheridan and her boyfriend, Tommy Gasbarro, hand-in-hand, waiting for the light to change. On the far end of the next block, Stan Ellis, who was Tommy Gasbarro’s ex-step-father, waved a hand. If Amelia remembered correctly, Lola Sheridan’s mother, Anna, had had an affair with Stan Ellis years before. He’d been there when she’d died in that horrible accident.
Amelia still remembered that strange, fateful night. Back then, Michelle had still been alive, and tragedy hadn’t been so close to home.
“I’ve rented a house along the water,” Oliver said then. “Beautiful place, fully furnished. It even comes with a baby grand piano.”
Amelia wondered if he said these things as a way to impress her. She wanted to point out how little she cared about money. It wasn’t like she was poor or anything; she was comfortable. But more than that, she’d never made a single decision in her life that was all about money. Her decisions were rooted in family and love and the island’s beauty. She wasn’t driven by profit.
37 Peases Point Way Page 11
