by Liz Durano
“Oh, please,” I scoff. “What could I possibly have that someone as gorgeous as Natasha doesn’t have?”
“Not to sound trite or overly romantic, but you’ve got a heart, Billie. And in our business, it’s usually the first thing to go on our way to the top,” she says as her phone beeps, and she glances at it briefly.
“I’ve got to go. My baby’s just woken up, and I haven’t seen her in four days,” she says, smiling as she gets up from her chair. “Feel free to go anywhere you please, Billie, even the main house. It was nice to meet you.”
If that was Tyler rolling out the welcome wagon, I'm afraid to find out what her farewell party would be. One minute she’s cold and the next, she’s not, though I can’t exactly blame her for being angry at Heath and his decision to delay informing the board of Blythe’s embezzlement.
Still, my meeting has left me in a bad mood, and I huff back into the guest house and almost slam the door behind me. It's not until I lean against the door do I realize I'm shaking. Tyler Crow is not a woman who beats around the bush, and she sure made her point clear.
By the time Heath enters the house, I'm a lot calmer. I've decided to look at things from Tyler's point of view and see what she's set to lose if Heath's plan fails. What would it cost her if the board finds out that after learning about the embezzlement, she did nothing to inform them? Surely, she'd be the first one to suffer the consequences, most likely a casualty of her plumbing. Harris is on his way to a cushy retirement as Chairman Emeritus so he probably wouldn't care if they ushered him out sooner. Heath wouldn't stand to lose a thing, not when he owned the majority of the stock to begin with. And as for Blythe and I, nothing would change there. We're still expendable.
"I see you've met Tyler," Heath says when he walks past my bedroom, the door ajar. He's got a towel draped around his hips and droplets of water glisten from his damp hair. He's carrying a small package in one hand.
"I did, yes," I say, forcing a smile. "She's nice."
"She can be rough around the edges, but she means well," Heath says though he's looking at me curiously. "I'm glad to hear you both got along.”
You call that getting along? I almost say. ”So what's the plan?"
"Breakfast first," he says, rubbing the towel through his hair. "Then to the country club for the afternoon tea. I hear that Ethan and Blythe will be there to meet sponsors."
"Can we have breakfast in town?” I ask. "I know Tyler's got an incredible house, and there's staff to make us whatever we want, but I was thinking of exploring Santa Barbara for a bit. I also need to get a new phone."
"That's already been taken care of," he says, handing me the bag he's holding. “It was delivered this morning, and it just needs to be set up."
It's a brand new phone just like Blythe's, and while Heath takes a shower and gets dressed, I call Customer Service to help me set it up. Then I input Blythe's phone number as well as the shop's into the phone directory before getting dressed in a pair of jeans along with a sleeveless top and an airy eternity scarf. As I look at my reflection in the mirror, thanking Alicia’s eye for what works for my skin tone and my hair, I think I look decent enough.
I could even pass for Blythe.
15
Afternoon Tea
From the moment Heath shuts the passenger door of the Ferrari that Tyler loans him, I feel like I'm in a movie as we head downtown for breakfast. He's casually dressed in jeans and a blue henley shirt, and he's looks like a film star. Even the dimples are making their appearance, and with the convertible top down, we look just like any Santa Barbara couple, enjoying the day together.
We have breakfast at a cafe right on State Street known for its Southern-influenced dishes. The place is full but after a few minutes of waiting, we're led to a table outside. He tells me that Ethan and Blythe are staying at the Mariposa, a brand new resort that he and Ethan had invested in years earlier.
“It’s also where we’ll be staying for the rest of the trip,” he adds as I grin from ear to ear. No matter how beautiful Tyler's property is, I'd rather stay in an old motel than spend another night at her guesthouse, whether it sits in the relationship corner on the bagua or not. In fact, my suitcases are already packed right next to the bed, though I don't tell him.
"What made you change your mind about staying at Tyler's?"
“It was only just for last night,” he says, “I needed to touch base with her in person and let her know what happened with my meeting with Harris."
"Do you trust her?"
"I do," he replies. "But she’s not happy with my decision to delay informing the board of the alleged embezzlement, not when it cost her everything she's worked hard to achieve. And she's right."
"Do you think she'll tell someone?"
"If she does, it's going to be soon, but she's willing to give me a few more days before she does — unless I do it first," he replies, looking up as the waitress arrives with my mimosa served in a mason jar.
"And Harris?"
He shrugs. "It won't affect him either way if he does or doesn’t though his priority will be to shield his godson from scandal."
"And you? Who's shielding you?"
“Just Wally and Fred, although there are others, too, but their job includes not being seen," Heath replies, stroking the back of my hand, a move I find myself welcoming. His guard is down, and as hard as it was hearing what he said on the plane about me needing to move on, I’ve long accepted the fact that he’s right. No matter how harsh his words sounded then, someone had to say it out loud.
“Who are Wally and Fred?”
”They've only been following us since we left Tyler's."
“Are they Tyler’s men? Like from last night?”
"They're mine,” he says. “Kheiron Industries' security team was not happy to learn that I had traveled to Saint Lucia alone, and neither was my personal security company. And Tyler is beyond upset that I took that risk.”
“So basically, everyone’s angry with you?”
"Basically, yes," he replies, grinning.
By the time our breakfast arrives, we stop talking about business and how he likes his woman, with emphasis on the singular. I don't realize how famished I am till I'm faced with poached eggs on top of crab cakes and a side of avocado salsa while Heath digs into his order of rib-eye steak and two fried eggs, grilled asparagus and potatoes. We take a few minutes just to eat, and I can't help but notice how, even through his sunglasses, I can see his eyes watching me.
"How come you never told me that Tyler's a woman?" I ask, taking a sip of my mimosa. Between my coffee and this, I have a feeling I'm going to be on a nice caffeine high for the next few hours.
"Because her being a woman shouldn't be an issue.”
"Where did you meet her?"
"At Harvard," he replies. "We were both doing our Masters, and we became close."
"So how did Tyler end up on your board? Did you work with her before?"
"I threw her name into the pool of other names they were considering as my co-chair, on account of her performance with Credit Suisse."
"Did you ever date?"
Heath gazes at me for a few moments, a slight smile on his lips. "What if I say yes?"
I shrug. I don't know why I'm feeling a slight tug in my chest, but maybe it's just my bra. "Then you date.”
"No, we never did," he replies, chuckling. "I was too engrossed in making my mark in the corporate world to date anyone for that matter. Though it doesn't mean I didn't date."
"I never said you didn’t. It's not like you'd be hurting for dates anyway."
"You're right, I wasn't," he says, the dimples appearing as he grins, "just as I'm sure you weren't hurting for dates yourself."
"You're right; I wasn't," I say though I omit that part where I never see them past the second date, or past the moment they ask, so how is Blythe doing these days?
Besides, the less Heath knows about my lack of a love life after Andrew, the better. In fact, the less h
e knows about me, the better. It's not like we're still stuck on a plane and forced to share our deepest darkest secrets. But as he reaches for my hand along the side of the table, I have to remind myself that this is all part of the charade—the smiles, the hand-holding makes up that illusion that we are a couple.
"Do you think we'll run into Ethan and Blythe today?" I ask, pulling my hand away as I take another sip of my mimosa. At the rate I'm going, I'm going to need another one soon. I don't know why I'm nervous, but I am.
"Ethan should be on the polo grounds practicing right now though he'll make the afternoon tea with the tournament sponsors at two," he says. "Blythe should be there, too."
I nod and smile, but I don't say anything.
"Are you nervous?"
"Should I be?" I ask, sipping my drink till the glass is empty. "I think I need another one."
"And another one it shall be," he says, flagging the waitress.
We finish breakfast an hour later, sated, and in my case, happier than when I first left Tyler's house, thanks to the two mimosas I've had. When we walk along State Street, I tell Heath how it didn't look like this when Blythe and I first visited with our parents so many years ago.
"But that was a long time ago, and everything's changed since then," I say as I pause in front of a shop window, my gaze falling on a wide-brimmed hat. It reminds me of the hats that I've seen women wear to polo matches. Before I can say anything, Heath pulls me towards the shop entrance, but I draw away, protesting. "Alicia got me everything I needed for this trip, Heath. I don't need any more."
Heath shakes his head. "Alicia got you what she thought you needed, Billie. This time, you're getting what you want."
When I still hesitate, he gives me the saddest face he can muster, "Don't kill my buzz, Billie, please.”
“But you didn’t even drink!” I laugh as I allow him to pull me into the shop. Twenty minutes later, I emerge wearing a Panama hat that was next to the wide-brimmed floppy hat from the window display, which he also bought, sitting now in its box. He's also bought me, despite my protests, a lovely white cotton dress with lace cut-outs and matching beige sandals with chunky heels. California chic, he tells me and perfect for divot stomping during half-time.
I decide then that if Heath wants to buy anything for me, I'm not going to stop him, not when he clearly has better fashion taste than I do. I can't help but feel giddy as we walk along State Street, one that makes me think I might have a medical condition because my heart feels like it's bursting with childlike glee. It feels strange, but I tell myself to stop analyzing everything for once, and just let go.
Besides, I can always blame it on the mimosas.
By the time we arrive at the country club two hours later, the afternoon tea has begun in a large white tent and the press is in full attendance. Heath is not driving this time. Instead, we're being driven by the aforementioned Wally and Fred, who flew in from New York with Tyler on a private charter and from here on, Heath tells me, they'll be close.
For the afternoon tea, Heath is wearing a light button down shirt, white trousers, and a navy blue jacket. He looks like he just walked out of a fashion catalog and if not that, then Martha's Vineyard or the south of France, and he blushes when I tell him so. I'm wearing the white dress and the beige sandals that he bought me earlier that morning, and I'm struck by how beautiful it makes me feel, not only because it is a beautiful ensemble complete with matching gold jewelry and a wide-brimmed floppy hat, but because someone picked it all out for me.
"Isabel Marrant," he whispers in my ear as we walk past the press line, the clicks of the camera shutters filling the air.
"Who’s Isabel Marrant?”
"Who you're wearing," he says. “It’s Isabel Marrant."
And sure enough, as we reach the end of the press line, someone shouts, "Who are you wearing?"
So I beam, and say, "Isabel Marrant," like I know what the heck I’m talking about, and when they ask me to turn around, I twirl.
Most of the tournament sponsors have their presentation tables along the sides, and the players of the various teams are posing for pictures and mingling with the VIP guests. Prince Harry isn't there because he's due to arrive only on the day of the tournament and already, I hear that tickets are going for $400 apiece while it's $4,000 each to be in the VIP. On the field, there's also a game going on between two local teams, which seems like the perfect backdrop for a tea party.
Kheiron Industries is one of the main sponsors though they don't have their own booth. The presence of two of their board members is more than enough representation, and already, people are coming towards us, greeting Heath before doing a double-take at me.
As I scan the tent looking for Blythe, the first person I see is Tyler, standing next to another woman and four men in a semi-circle in the middle of the tent, engaged in friendly discussion. I frown when I see Harris standing at the far end, remembering how he said he’d be here for the tournament, and not before that. Yet he’s here, which means he flew out of Saint Lucia shortly after we did.
As he sees us make our way through the main doors, Harris meets us halfway, pumping Heath’s fist happily before smiling for the cameras, while still shaking Heath’s hand. There is no sign of the tenuous conversation he and Heath had back in Saint Lucia, nor his animosity towards me when he gives me a kiss on each cheek.
“My dear, you look beautiful!” he says, holding me at arms length to admire me.
“Thank you, Harris.”
"May I talk to you in private?" Harris asks and though I hesitate, I nod, and we take a few steps away from Heath, who is instantly surrounded by business acquaintances.
"I would like to apologize for the things I said in Saint Lucia," Harris begins. "I know you heard what I said, Billie. Pam told me you were standing by the trellis for some time before she got there."
I avoid his gaze, and though I know I'm probably acting like a petulant child, I don't know what to do.
"But whether you were standing there or not, I was out of line to say what I said. I was furious at Heath and Ethan, for yet another fight between them, another argument that I felt I needed to put a stop to. And because of that, I let my anger get the best of me.” His grandfather tone is back again, and I look up at him though I still don't say anything.
"I promised their father that I'd keep an eye on them, even though they're all adults. But they've always been rivals since they were little boys, not that Edgar didn't encourage it," he says, shaking his head. "It's not right, this thing that's going on between them, Billie, not right at all. And between Ethan showing up at my doorstep with those letters that he stole from his mother, and then Heath with his news of the embezzlement—well, you can only imagine my state of mind. I may be Ethan’s godfather, Billie, but all of them are like my kids.”
He exhales and rests one hand on his chest. “Even if you can’t forgive me, Billie, please know that my apology is sincere. That's all I can do on my end, but I will understand if you can't-”
"I forgive you, Harris," I say with a smile. Of course, I'm going to forgive him. Charade or not, the last thing I want is a resentful Harris Colman.
"Thank you, my dear,” he says, pulling me towards him in another one of his grandfatherly hugs. "Heath is very lucky to have you, Billie. That boy sure needs a bit of sunshine in his life, and you’re it. After their father died, it was a hell of a time for him, what with corporate matters and all. He hasn't had a break since, running two companies at the same time."
"He makes it look easy."
"He tries, although sometimes it makes me wonder if the strain is too much for him," Harris says, glancing over at Heath who is in conversation with two older men. "And I sincerely hope this charge of embezzlement against Blythe is nothing but a huge mistake, a misunderstanding. Maybe an oversight on Ethan's part, even. I've launched my investigation into this whole mess, so I've yet to see the findings. ButI hope that Heath is just wrong."
"Will you tell the board?"
He shakes his head. "I'd rather step down and let Heath or Tyler make the announcement to the Board members themselves. They can even file the charges against whoever is responsible, for all I care. I have to admit, Billie, I'm too old for this. All I want is a cushy retirement and a life without the usual intrigue that goes on behind closed doors. However, it does have its perks—like this tea party, for example, where I get to see you. I hope you go out there during half-time and stomp some divots."
"I'm looking forward to it," I say, smiling.
A publicist wearing a name tag identifying her as an employee of Kheiron Industries tells Harris that the press is waiting for him, and within seconds, Harris excuses himself and leaves.
"Did you know that Walt Disney was such a fan of polo that he had a cage built on a soundstage so he and other players could practice hitting balls into the goal?" Heath asks me the moment Harris is gone. His hand is pressed along the small of my back as he guides me across the tent.
"No, I had no idea," I say as a member of the wait staff offers us glasses of chilled rosé wine.
"What did Harris want to talk about?"
"He apologized for calling me a pathetic copy of Blythe," I reply and Heath stares at me, surprised. "Pam told him I was by the trellis all that time, so he knew I heard him."
"And?"
I shrug. "I forgave him.”
Heath reaches for my hand and holds it, completing our charade as a couple as I take a long sip of my wine—two gulps that almost empty the glass.
"Are you nervous?"
"Not anymore," I say, hoping he can't tell I'm lying. Of course, I'm nervous. I'm petrified. "Are you?"
"No.”
"I've never seen so many gorgeous people in one place," I say as I take another sip of the rosé.
"Like you," Heath says, smiling. "You're beautiful, Billie."
"Thanks to you and Isabella Marrant," I say, chuckling. “I had a lot of fun at breakfast, and as far as that shopping trip is concerned, I'll add it to my tab."
