by Zoe York
“Good luck with that.”
Once she’d gone, Myles picked up his phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Piper had only been at work for an hour. And she’d been aggravated with his mother hen routine before she left. Maybe he’d give it a while longer before he checked in.
Shifting gears, he called Vanessa.
She answered on the second ring, her voice brisk and efficient. “Well, I didn’t expect to hear from you quite so soon. I assumed you received my counter?”
“Oh, I received it. Had a good laugh.” He could all but hear her bristle over the phone.
“I was perfectly serious, Myles.”
“I’m sure you are. But you’re coming at me with big city tactics. This is a small-town paper, V. We’re doing okay, and we’re growing, but we don’t have the kind of resources to give you what you want.”
“So what’s your counter?”
“I don’t have one. This is a job opportunity, not a flea market. The bottom line is that I can’t give you the kind of salary you expect. I can’t even offer you what you probably deserve.”
“Then why exactly are we having this conversation?”
Why indeed?
“Because I think you can share my vision. Because I think that after years of working in big city papers, you’re sick of the corporate policies and having little to no say in your assignments or the overall finished product. I think you’re tired of being one voice among many. I think you’re questioning whether you want to raise your daughter in a place where she’ll likely end up in private school. Where she’s never going to have friends down the street or be able to play in the yard without direct supervision. Which is assuming you ever found an affordable place with a yard. I think you worry about her growing up so close to the cesspool of DC, and you’re starting to get nostalgic about your small-town upbringing.”
“You’ve been thinking an awful lot.” Her tone was the verbal equivalent of eyes narrowed in offense.
“The fact is, Vanessa, what I’m offering here isn’t just a job. It’s a chance at a different way of life. You’ve got the package I put together on the schools, the real estate, even the art scene for your wife. It’s almost the lowest cost of living in the nation, in a town that’s in the middle of a renaissance. And it’s a chance to get in almost at the ground floor, a chance to really influence that renaissance, that community, through this paper. An opportunity to forge ties and create something that has a more lasting and meaningful impact than an op ed piece no one will remember next week or next month. Real human journalism.”
Myles took a breath. “I can do what I’m doing on my own. I’ve done damned well with my limited staff so far. But I want someone to share that with me V. And I wanted that to be you.” He still did, if he was honest. And that drove him to one last hail Mary pass. “Now I know you like to play hardball. You’re damned good at it. I wasn’t prepared to offer you anything more than what you’ve already seen, but on the off-chance that this makes a difference, I’m willing to throw in ten percent ownership of the paper.”
“Why would you do that? The Observer is your baby. You love that paper.”
“I do. I’ve put my blood, sweat, tears, and money into it. I’ve just paid off my original investor so that I have sole ownership.” Okay, not a hundred percent true until tomorrow, but there was no reason to quibble. “But I love my wife more.” The admission echoed through him like a gong. He loved Piper. He’d known it for weeks, but it was the first time he’d said it aloud. And it felt good to say it, to admit it to someone. Myles hated that it hadn’t first been to Piper herself. Something he’d rectify as soon as he saw her again.
“I didn’t know you were married.”
“For less than a month. But she’s the best thing in my life, and it’s not worth working myself into the ground and losing her. I need help. And if that’s not going to be you, I need to find someone else.”
That was it. Everything he had rolled into probably the most honest pitch he could make. Myles held his breath waiting to see if she’d bite.
Vanessa was quiet for a long moment. “When do I start?”
“Thank you for seeing me.” Piper clasped her hands, hoping Gram Stewart wouldn’t try to take one and find out exactly how sweaty they were.
Suzanne stepped back from the front door Piper had been surprised she answered herself. In a place like this, she’d expected a butler or something.
“I have to admit I was surprised to hear from you. After all the hoopla of the wedding, I expected you and Myles to go to ground for a while and hide.”
So did I. Piper bit back the pain of what might have been. Now wasn’t the time to think about how different reality was from what she’d expected for their marriage.
She stepped inside, her heels echoing in the high-ceilinged foyer. “You and I have some business to discuss.”
“Oh? Well, you’d best come on back to the parlor.”
Parlor. Because Suzanne Stewart’s house—mansion, really—was big enough to have a formal parlor.
I am not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
Suzanne gestured for her to take a seat.
Piper moved to a tufted settee and sat, smoothing her skirt. She’d dressed carefully for this meeting, as much to make a good impression as to armor up against a formidable opponent. For all she’d praised Piper’s moxie and gone to the trouble of putting on the wedding, Piper was under no illusions that Suzanne was anything less than the staunch matriarch of the Stewart clan. The last thing she wanted was to come across as upset and terrified as she actually was.
“Shall I ring for coffee?”
Piper’s traitorous stomach gave a lurch at the thought. Only her years of acting experience prevented her from outright wincing. “No, thank you.” She didn’t expect to be staying long enough for beverages anyway.
Suzanne folded her hands. “Well then, out with it. You’ve clearly got something on your mind.”
Piper reached into her purse and pulled out the manila envelope that had ridden like an executioner in her passenger seat all the way from Wishful. At her request, Tucker had—reluctantly—drawn the contents up in a hurry. He couldn’t understand how necessary this step was in order for her to move forward.
She handed it over to Suzanne. “I came to bring you this.”
The older woman frowned, but she didn’t waste time asking obvious questions about what was in her hands, instead reaching over to a side table for a pair of reading glasses.
Piper was grateful for the brief reprieve from explaining herself. She hadn’t quite figured out what to say that would be the least revealing about her current situation and the least damning to Myles. This was about setting the record straight, not hurting him.
Suzanne said nothing, reading through the short document twice before lowering it and fixing sharp blue eyes on Piper. “A post-nuptial agreement. Why?”
Summoning as much high-class hauteur as possible, Piper squared her shoulders. “Given the accusations directed at me on your discovery of our engagement, I didn’t want there to be any question that I truly have no designs on Myles’ money or the family fortunes.”
Dismay flickered over the older woman’s face. “There is no apology I can make that will suffice to repair the damage from that ill-conceived action. But I am sorry.”
Piper shook her head. That hardly mattered now. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as she faced telling as much of the truth as she dared. “The fact is, you were right to be suspicious. Just not for the reasons you thought.”
One patrician brow winged up. And she waited.
“Our marriage was about money. But not for me. For Myles.”
Something chilled in her expression. “How so?”
“Myles needed a large sum of cash to pay off his primary investor in the paper or he risked losing control entirely. He could have found other investors, but there was an exceptionally short timeline, so his only real option was the trust. Which, as you know, he couldn�
�t access until he married.”
Suzanne sucked in a breath. “My grandson used you?” The fury in her voice was quiet but deadly.
“I was a willing accomplice. When he told me about his problems with the paper, I’m the one who came up with the whole plan to help him save it. I was the obvious choice. We had a history because of the theater and no one would have any reason to doubt the veracity of our relationship.”
“You were acting?”
That made Piper stumble. Here she couldn’t lie. “I wasn’t, no. Without all of this, we’d have been dating like normal people. We’re friends. Good friends. We tried being more.” Because her voice wanted to shake, she paused, curling her hands to fists in her lap. “The fact is, Myles got what he needed, what he wanted, out of the arrangement. It was just business. The paper is safe, or will be after he meets with his investor tomorrow. And now I’m letting him go because I’m not what he needs or wants in the long term.” She nodded toward the post-nup agreement. “I had that drawn up to make certain that there’s never been any question of my wanting anything from him for having held up my end of the bargain.”
Suzanne sat back. “I hardly know what to say.”
“You needn’t say anything. I just wanted to be sure everything was clear before things move forward.”
The glasses got tossed, skittering across the table and onto the floor. “Goddamn that boy for a fool.”
Piper’s eyes widened, at the unexpected invective. “Please don’t be angry with him. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and he never would have come up with this idea on his own. Credit for that goes entirely to me. Your family values business acumen. So just...focus on the fact that what he’s pulled off with The Observer is nothing short of miraculous, and leave it at that.”
“Your mind’s made up?”
“My end of the deal is fulfilled. It’s time for me to go.”
They lapsed into a strained silence.
An ache built in Piper’s throat now that she’d said her piece. If she didn’t get out of here now, she was going to burst into tears, and Suzanne was the last person she wanted to see that kind of weakness. She picked up her purse and rose. “I’ll see myself out.”
She’d made it to the door of the parlor before Suzanne called her name.
Piper turned back, a question on her face.
When Suzanne spoke, her voice was gentler than Piper would have expected. “You don’t expect anything at all from him?”
She swallowed. “Nothing he’s willing to give. The whole thing was a business arrangement. I was the only one foolish enough to bring hearts into the equation.”
Chapter 15
“OKAY, I’M HEADED OUT, unless you need anything else.”
Myles looked up at Patty and smiled. “No, I’m good. Thanks for all your help.”
“It’s what I do. And tell Piper I hope she feels better. She still looked pretty ill when she was in this morning.”
Myles frowned. “This morning?”
“Yeah she stopped by around nine. Didn’t you see her?”
“No.”
“You’ve been in and out of meetings and on the phone all day. Maybe she decided not to bother you.”
“Maybe,” he murmured. But why would she go to the trouble of coming in if she wasn’t planning on staying?
“See you tomorrow.”
Preoccupied, he waved to Patty and started loading his messenger bag with the things he needed to take home for the night. Piper hadn’t been at home when he popped in for lunch, so she hadn’t had a relapse. Maybe Patty was right and she’d just stopped in on her way to get coffee or something at The Grind. If it had been anything important, she’d have waited for him to get done with…whatever he’d been doing when she was here.
In the mood to celebrate, Myles picked up a bottle of champagne on the way home. Between his usual editorial duties and a handful of meetings, he’d spent a fair chunk of the day getting all the details hammered out regarding hiring Vanessa. Her start date was still a little fuzzy, as she needed to sort the issue of moving with her wife, but there was an end in sight to his obsessive overworking.
And he was going home to his own wife to tell her what he should’ve said the day they married.
Piper, I love you.
Given her recent illness, she probably wouldn’t drink more than a sip of the champagne, but it was the principle.
Her car wasn’t in the garage. Surely Miranda wouldn’t have her working late on her first day back after being so sick. He brought in the champagne and the ingredients for dinner, and dialed Piper’s number. No answer. A prickle of worry swept over him.
Spying a box in the living room floor, he relaxed. Of course. At the first sign of being human again, she’d headed over to her house to keep packing stuff. She’d probably set her phone down somewhere and didn’t hear it. God forbid she wait until she was actually well.
Making a mental note to suck it up and hire movers to pack everything for her, cost be damned, he went to put the chicken on to marinate and toss a couple of baked potatoes in the oven. They’d grill out, and he’d make her something with more taste than the bland soup and applesauce she’d been existing on the past week. Something niggled at him as he worked, but he couldn’t put his finger on what was off.
As the clock ticked closer to six and she still hadn’t shown, Myles figured he’d best head over to her place to remind her of the time. She’d work herself to collapse if he didn’t. Keys in hand, he was almost out the door, when he turned back to the living room. Walking back in, he made a slow circle of the room.
Some of her stuff was gone. The stack of romance novels she kept by her end of the sofa wasn’t on the end table. The bright pillows weren’t on the couch. Had she moved them?
Feeling stupid and paranoid, he checked the rest of the house. She’d just picked up some. Maybe when she came home for her own lunch. But he didn’t find the pillows, and the books weren’t on the bookcase they’d hauled into the guest room.
Paranoia shifted to unease as he hit their bedroom. It was too…neat. Moving quicker now, he stepped into their closet—and found her half all but empty.
What the hell?
He was already racing for the door as he called her again. “C’mon. Pick up, woman!” As before, there was no answer.
Cursing, he tossed his phone into the cup holder and drove like a bat out of hell across town to her house. True worry set in when her car wasn’t in the driveway.
“Where the hell are you, Piper?”
Myles didn’t know what this meant, but it couldn’t be anything good.
Checking his panic, he blew out a breath and called Tyler.
“Is Piper with you?” The question spilled out almost before she managed to say “Hello.”
“No. I just got home from work. Why?”
“She should’ve been home from work by now. I thought she was packing, but I’m at her place, and she’s not here either. I’m worried.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she hit up McSweeney’s for groceries or stopped by the pharmacy to pick up something.”
But she wouldn’t take her clothes to either of those places. He stopped himself from saying that. Saying it would make it real, and he wasn’t ready to accept what his mind was already telling him.
“I’m sure you’re right. If you hear from her, just...let me know, okay?”
“Sure.”
Back in the car, he headed into town to drive by the grocery and pharmacy, just in case. He called Norah and had almost the same conversation.
He didn’t have Miranda’s number and didn’t think to ask Norah for it, so he bypassed the phone entirely and drove to her house. One of the benefits of living in a small town. Her SUV was in the drive, engine still popping and cooling. She hadn’t been home long. The door swung open before he could knock.
“Myles. What are you doing here?”
“Where is she?”
“Piper? I don’t know. I
haven’t seen her since first thing this morning.”
“She left work early?” Well, obviously she had. Patty had said she’d been by The Observer. He’d just assumed she’d gone back to work.
Miranda frowned. “Yeah, she was only in for about half an hour before I sent her home.”
“Was she sick again? I told her she wasn’t up to going back yet, but I’d have had to tie her down to keep her in bed another day.” It was inane, normal conversation in the face of the panic working its way through him.
“She’s never been a good patient.” Miranda stepped back. “Why don’t you come inside?”
Myles moved past her into the foyer. “What’s going on?”
“She didn’t come talk to you? Didn’t call?”
“No. About what?”
“You really need to hear it from her.”
He felt his head go light, a million awful possibilities spinning through his head. His hands were wrapped around her arms before he realized it. “Miranda, what’s wrong with Piper?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “As her doctor, I’m bound by confidentiality.”
“I’m her husband.”
“Unfortunately, that doesn’t matter. You’ve never been put on the release form, so I can’t tell you anything.” She pulled away from him.
“What about as her friend?”
“As her friend, I’m telling you, you need to talk to your wife.”
“She’s gone.” His voice cracked on the words. He scrubbed both hands over his hair, his face, as if that would somehow erase the harsh reality. “Her clothes are packed and she’s not at her place.”
Miranda’s face twisted in sympathy. “Oh, Piper, what are you doing?”
“Just...just tell me. Is she sick? Cancer? Some kind of autoimmune thing? Is she dying?” His throat closed up at the thought. She’d been so tired the last couple of weeks, and he’d barely been around to notice. What if it was something serious? They’d barely had any time together. How could he lose her now?
Miranda laid both hands on his shoulder. “I can’t give you the specifics. But I don’t think it’s breaking any laws to tell you she’s absolutely not dying.”
