It was, therefore, a happy moment to see Maggie reopen the restaurant as part of her plans to turn around the struggling chain of retail stores. In just a few weeks in early November, the Winter Wonderland would likewise come back to life, and she hoped with all her heart that Maggie could save her family’s business.
But as she stood beside Emma, Tracy, Mrs. Patrick, and Maggie’s dad, she sensed tension between Maggie and Owen and worried. It had all been going so well with them in the months since their wedding, despite the family feud and the work pressures they both faced.
It was clear that Emma also thought there was a problem. Her friend leaned close and whispered, “Do you feel that chill?”
“I definitely do,” Tracy replied and glanced at Connie.
“It’s downright arctic,” Connie said, but with the crowd gathered for the festivities, it was impossible to have a private moment with her friend. She did the best she could to help with the assorted guests attending the event. The mayor was there along with some local celebrities and reporters from various newspapers and television stations. Longtime Maxwell’s employees mingled with special customers who had been invited to attend the event. All in all, as the hours passed, it seemed like the Savannah Courtyard’s revival was being well received by everyone. When it was only close friends and family left, Connie wanted to take Maggie aside, but her friend looked exhausted.
“Time to go home. You look beat,” Owen said.
Maggie nodded. “Yeah, I am tired. Thank you all for coming,” Maggie said.
Everyone chimed in with their compliments. Mrs. Patrick and Maggie’s dad were teary eyed, and Maggie hugged her father tightly as he said, “Good job, Maggie. You were so right about reopening the Courtyard.”
“Thank you, Dad. That means the world to me.”
“Ready when you are, Maggie,” Owen said and held out his hand to Maggie, but she didn’t take hold of the hand he held out to her. Her blue eyes were clouded with worry, and the tight smile she gave him was bracketed with fine lines of tension.
So not good, Connie thought but didn’t say as Maggie and Owen walked out.
If Mrs. Patrick and Maggie’s dad noticed, they didn’t say anything, but as the three friends walked out of Maxwell’s, they paused to look at the limo pulling away from the curb. It headed down Fifth Avenue toward Maggie’s brownstone across from Gramercy Park, a home Maggie had mortgaged along with the family home in Sea Kiss to try to keep the Maxwell’s stores open.
“I think that reporter rattled their cages with his questions,” Emma said, accurately pinpointing the moment when the Ice Age between Maggie and Owen had started.
“Do you think she knew about Owen’s dad threatening to disown him?” Tracy asked as they started the walk across town. Emma and Tracy were both headed to Penn Station to catch a train, and Connie hoped to make the last ferry to Jersey City. Fall had settled in fully with cooler temps, and the city was starting to get crowded with early holiday tourists. They huddled together against both the chill and the crowd as they walked up Thirty-Fourth Street.
“I don’t think she did, and I don’t think he had any idea about the loans Maggie took out on her homes,” Emma said.
Connie mulled over her friend’s comments, recalling her own warnings to Maggie about starting off her marriage with what amounted to a business contract. She had been afraid that it could only lead to grief, and she hated that she might have been right. But she wanted to remain optimistic. “They’ll work it out. I have no doubt they love each other. They were forced into a corner because of that stupid feud.”
Silence reigned for a long time as they walked. When they paused to cross the street at Herald Square, Emma faced her and said, “Do you really think Owen’s dad would disown him? He’s such an important part of the business.”
It made her think of Jonathan, who would be home by the weekend, and how his father had disinherited him so many years earlier. How even now, his father refused to acknowledge a son who was bright, loving, and almost too good to be true.
“I think he would,” she said without hesitation.
“Then he’s not only bitter, he’s stupid,” Tracy said vehemently.
Connie couldn’t disagree.
A block later, she left her friends at the corner to head to one of the bus stops for the ferry service. She made the last ferry with barely minutes to spare and was winded from her dash down the pier to board. Winded and a little nauseated, she thought, placing a hand over her midsection as it did a little turn in warning.
She moved toward an open window and gulped in the fresh air, driving away her queasiness with the clean, cool, and slightly salty scent of the breeze spilling in. With a few measured breaths, the sick feeling slowly passed, and by the end of the fifteen-minute ride, she was back to normal.
Her condo was only a short walk from the ferry terminal, but there was a strong breeze sweeping off the Hudson, chilling her to the bone. She smiled at the security guard in the lobby and headed up to her floor. Inside her apartment, she kicked off her shoes, strolled to her couch, and plopped down to enjoy the view of New York City. The sun had set over an hour earlier, and nighttime New York had come to life.
She sat there for a long time, thinking about how the day had gone both at work and at Maggie’s event. Work had luckily been uneventful, a morning of paper pushing before heading to Maxwell’s. The event had seemed to be going well until the reporter had blurted out the rapid-fire questions to Maggie and Owen. She had seen their bodies recoil, as if they’d been shot, and the looks that had crossed their faces. Disbelief. Distrust. Emma had been right to pick that as the moment when things had gone south between Maggie and her newlywed husband.
Almost as if there were some telepathic link between them, her cell phone rang, and Maggie’s number flashed on the screen. She swiped and answered with, “Are you okay?”
“I don’t think so,” Maggie said, her voice strangled and husky from what sounded like tears.
“What happened, Mags?” she asked, although she already had a solid clue.
A pregnant pause filled the air before Maggie said, “I didn’t mean to keep the mortgages from him. I really didn’t. I forced them to the back of my mind, because I didn’t want to think about them anymore.”
Connie understood. Maggie had been determined to save her stores, and if she did so, the loans on her Jersey Shore home and New York town house would have been a nonissue. She didn’t have time to support her friend’s decision, because Maggie jumped in with, “And why didn’t he tell me about his dad threatening to disown him? That business means everything to him, and he stood to lose it.”
Connie had often worked in the role of conciliator as a lawyer, and this was as good a time as any to use those skills. “Just like you stood to lose your homes. Maybe he didn’t want to think about it either. Or burden you with it, because he already knew how much you had going on. You’ve both sacrificed a lot to be together. Don’t let this drive a wedge between the two of you.”
A hesitant sigh and a big sniffle answered her. “I just can’t talk to him again right now. I need a little space and time.”
“Just don’t let it get to be too big a space and too much time, Mags. You love him,” she said.
“I do love him, Connie. I do,” Maggie replied.
“Then fight for him, Mags,” she said. Her friend mumbled her assent and hung up.
She stared at the phone for a long time, hoping Maggie would be able to set things to rights. Wondering how she’d set her own life to rights, which made her think of Jonathan and their discussion the other night.
He had been right about her. She’d always had laser-like focus on reaching her goal, moving like the speed of light from one moment in her life to the next. Never stopping to appreciate what she had accomplished to reach that goal. Never considering whether to take a detour, except possibly for Jon
athan.
He’d been an unexpected stop, a bypass, that she’d considered back in college. She was wondering where he fit into her life again. How they could possibly mesh such disparate lives. His in Sea Kiss, when he wasn’t busy traveling around for work. Hers here and in New York, requiring stability and permanence, two words she didn’t associate with Jonathan.
With a heavy sigh, she rose from the couch and walked to her room, feeling tired to her bones although it wasn’t all that late, barely nine o’clock. Feeling unsettled, an emotion she didn’t like. As she undressed and slipped into bed, her phone chimed to signal an incoming message.
Jon, she thought as she read the text message.
Stuck in meeting. Thinking of you. Miss you.
She smiled as a smidgen of that uncertain feeling fled. She texted back, Miss you too, and added a smiley face and heart to the message.
A flood of crazy and fun emojis was his response, brightening her smile and lifting her spirits even higher. Luv u, she texted back without thinking and held her breath as she waited for his reply.
Luv u too. Can’t wait to see you.
Chapter 21
Jonathan sat in what seemed like the hundredth meeting with his partners and the lawyers and representatives of the camera company. While he appreciated that the company was a start-up and needed to get the most out of any deal with them, they’d been belaboring the same small points in the contract. He’d had enough.
He’d talked to his brother a couple of days earlier and knew there was trouble between him and Maggie. Jonathan wanted to get home to be able to support him. But more importantly, he wanted to see Connie. He wanted to go home to her.
Shooting a quick glance at Andy and then over to Roscoe, it was pretty clear to him that they felt the same way he did. He grabbed the pad in front of him and scribbled I’m done with this.
He slipped the pad in front of Andy, who peered at it and passed it to Roscoe before his partners slipped it back. Normally, Roscoe was the strong arm during the discussions, but before his partner could react, Jonathan rose and said, “Gentlemen, we value all the time you’ve given us. We understand and appreciate all your concerns, but you have to consider that your technology is just one part of our new vehicle design. We intend the new Lightning model to be one of a kind. Zero to sixty in 2.2 seconds, which is unheard of for an electric vehicle. Amazing AI to support top-notch camera systems, even LIDAR in the future. All that will make our car an industry leader in autonomous driving and collision avoidance systems. Our next model, the Thunder, will be every soccer mom and dad’s dream SUV. We’d love you to be a part of that, not to mention that it will bring incredible attention to your company. But if you don’t want to share in that success—”
The CEO of the camera company jumped in with, “We do want to be a part of it.”
Jonathan looked at his partners, who nodded, almost in unison. “Okay. Then let’s get serious and do this.”
* * *
Connie’s days passed in a blur between a combination of long hours at work, worrying about Maggie, and missing Jonathan.
His meeting had dragged on far longer than he’d expected. She’d spent the weekend alone, mostly slogging through every shit file Goodwyn tossed her way. She’d met Maggie for a drink on Monday night, not that she’d finished it, since her taste buds seemed to be off, and the drink, not to mention the spicy food, had had little appeal.
She’d dropped exhausted into bed every night after that, wondering why she was feeling the way she was, both emotionally and physically. If there was one thing that seemed to drive away her malaise, it was a call or text from Jonathan. Jonathan, who will be home tomorrow, she thought with a smile as she finished up her review of yet another contract.
She missed the last ferry home on Wednesday night and called for car service, dreading the ride home. It was raining, and that always meant heavier traffic on the streets and through the tunnel. The tunnel, she thought and grimaced as the sedan pulled up in front of her office. She got settled in the backseat and buckled up. She started going through emails as the driver maneuvered across town, but each little turn and dodge around another car caused a funky roll of her stomach. Figuring that it was because she was reading emails, she jammed her phone into her bag and sucked in a few deep breaths, drawing the attention of the driver.
“Are you feeling all right, miss?”
“Fine. Would you mind if I open the window a little?” she asked, and at his nod, she cracked the window open, and cool autumn air washed clean by the rain wafted into the car. The chill freshness revived her, and she leaned her head against the seat back. She watched the passing lights of the streetlamps, the neon of Times Square, and the headlights of nearby cars until the sedan reached one of the approaches for the tunnel.
She tensed, trying to head off the edge of almost panic that filled her in the tunnel. The lights of the city gave way to the sterile illumination in the tunnel, reflecting off glaring white subway tiles. Gasoline-scented fumes replaced the rain-fresh air. Nausea hit her like a fist in the stomach. She hit the button to shut the window and started counting, knowing just what number she had to reach to tell her they were near the end of the tunnel. But there was no keeping to her measured count as her stomach roiled like she was on a wild roller coaster ride.
It was so bad, she opened the window wide and leaned toward the air streaming in. Soon, the hint of rain tinged the air again, and seconds later, they were out of the tunnel and veering toward the road to the turnpike. There was nothing but cement barriers on either side, but coming up in a few feet was an exit.
“Pull off,” she instructed, and at the driver’s questioning glance, she repeated it more forcefully. “Please pull off.”
He did as she asked and drove away from the exit until there was a place he could stop on the shoulder to an on ramp for the highway.
She immediately got out of the car, bent over, and vomited the sandwich she had eaten earlier all over a strip of grass beside the sidewalk. As she finished, the driver stepped up to her, handing her tissues and a bottle of water. She thanked him, cleaned up, and got back in the car for the rest of the drive home.
Her stomach had settled somewhat, but her skin was clammy, and the tiredness that had dogged her for the last two weeks dragged her eyes closed for the remainder of the ride.
The slow stop of the car woke her, and she thanked the driver again as she exited and entered her building. She forced a smile and waved at her security guard. Fought another round of sickness as the elevator surged up to her floor. She barely made it to her bathroom, where dry heaves had her body jerking in misery before her stomach settled. She dropped to the floor, exhaustion claiming her. The cool of the tiles below her and on the wall slowly restored her. She forced herself to her feet, splashed cold water on her face, and cleaned up. She stumbled to her room, stripping off her clothes as she did so before dropping into bed, fast asleep before her head even hit the pillow.
* * *
It had been nearly two weeks since his brother had fought with Maggie. As Jonathan sat across the table from him over a late-night dinner, it was obvious the dispute had taken a toll on Owen. Dark smudges sat beneath his charcoal-colored eyes, and lines of tension bracketed his mouth.
“Did you make things right with Maggie?” Jonathan asked, wondering if his brother had come totally clean with his newlywed wife about the situation with their father. His brother’s hesitation confirmed that he hadn’t.
“If there’s one thing this fight should prove to you, it’s that you need to tell her the whole story, Owen. Before she finds out from someone else,” he stressed, wanting it to work out, because his brother and Maggie were perfect for each other. Since Maggie and Connie were like sisters, he could see the four of them building a life together as a family.
His brother combed a hand through the thick strands of his dark hair. “It’s
not that easy, Jon. She won’t understand.”
“She will if you’re honest with her. Tell her about the lie you told our father. Tell her that you married her because you love her and not because of that stupid deal you made with each other.” He’d tried to convince his brother from the get-go to be up front with Maggie. To admit to her that their father thought the marriage was just a scam so he could reclaim the properties that he thought Maggie’s family had cheated him out of. But it was obvious Owen was reluctant.
“When the time is right, I’ll tell her. I don’t think now is the right time.”
As the waiter brought over the steaks they’d ordered, Jonathan kept silent. Owen could be as stubborn and determined as anything, and he’d shut down. No matter that Jonathan wanted to say there was never a right time for such a revelation. That sometimes you just had to suck it up and do it, no matter how hard it might be.
Which made him think of the text message he’d gotten days earlier. That simple and unexpected response from Connie and his equally simple but incredibly complicated response: Luv you too.
He loved her. He’d always loved her, and maybe he should take a cue from what he’d told his brother and tell her face-to-face. Ask her to explore the possibility of a life together, despite how different their current lives might be. It would be a lot to ask, but as he’d thought moments earlier, sometimes you just had to suck it up and do it.
Chapter 22
The roll of the boat was familiar, but that didn’t keep Connie from finding herself leaning over the edge of the ferry, tossing up the cup of café con leche and Cuban toast that was her go-to breakfast.
One of her ferry buddies stood at her side, rubbing her back in a soothing gesture. “Easy, Connie. Take a deep breath,” the young woman beside her said and rubbed her back.
Connie straightened and inhaled deeply. The fresh air streaming across the deck helped settle her stomach. She accepted the bottled water from her friend and took a long sip. The water slipped down her throat, alleviating the rawness from her sickness.
What Happens in Summer Page 17
