Once and Again (6 page)

A few sharp raps—a familiar pattern—sounded on the back door.

“You get Sterling,” Jane said, wiping her hands on a clean towel. “I’ll get his pastry.”

She walked into the front room. Stephanie Ingle, the twenty-one-year-old who ran their front counter on days when she wasn’t taking classes at Fairfield University, was already there.

“Hey, Steph,” Jane called in greeting, and smiled. Steph’s strawberry-blond milkmaid braids made her look even sweeter than she was, and given that she was pretty darn sweet already, it was a tall order.

“Morning, Jane. Was that Sterling’s knock I heard at the back door?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay,” Steph said, pulling out an apple strudel—Sterling’s favorite—from the display case and popping it in a wax paper bag. She handed it to Jane. “I can’t believe he still hasn’t proposed,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “He’s been coming to talk to Evelyn every day for over a year. I don’t know what he’s waiting for. It’s not like they’re getting any younger.”

“You can’t rush love,” Jane said. And she would know. She’d rushed it, and look where it had gotten her—married to the wrong man.
The worst man.
At least she’d been able to get a divorce. “And you know as well as I do there are other issues at play.” Namely Augusta White, his seventy-five-year-old mother, who was dead set against her precious son marrying beneath him.

“Seems ridiculous, if you ask me,” Steph said. “In Sociology, we’ve been studying about class structure and society. Few people care about the oligarchy anymore. It’s all fame and merit nowadays.”

“I wish that were true,” Jane said, but deep in her heart, she knew it wasn’t. Sterling’s ancestors had come over on the
Mayflower,
and the Whites owned property not just in Eastbridge but in San Diego and Bermuda as well. They were rich, connected, and powerful—and everyone in town knew it. Evelyn, on the other hand, was from a big Italian family with nothing to recommend her but her can-do attitude.

Steph just shrugged and began to reorganize the raisin buns. “It’s crazy that it’s not.”

“Oh, Steph,” was all she could say. She tried to remember what kinds of idealistic things she’d thought when she was as young as Steph, but she couldn’t remember. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

She went back to the kitchen, making sure to clear her throat loudly before entering.

“Miss Jane,” Sterling said as soon as she walked in. “How are you this fine morning?” He was holding Evelyn’s hand—a new development—and he didn’t pull away. And Jane noted that while he spoke as politely as ever, he kept his eyes fixed on Evelyn. Her boss’s face was a bit more flushed than usual, and her eyes had an extra sparkle.

“How are you doing, Sterling?” Jane said. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Sterling just asked me to dinner,” Evelyn said, her soft smile making her look almost girlish.

“That’s great!” Jane said. This was the first time that Evelyn and Sterling would be getting together outside of the bakery. She turned to Sterling. “Where are you taking her?”

Sterling laughed. “I like that you have such loyal protectors, Evelyn. I thought we’d go to Da Pietro’s.” Da Pietro’s was one of the nicest restaurants in Westport, and Sterling actually sounded confident. Another new development.

“I’m sure you’ll have a great time,” Jane said with a smile, just to show him that she approved.

“Wonderful. It’s settled, then,” Sterling said. He let go of Evelyn’s hand and took the paper bag that Jane proffered. He dipped his head. “Good morning, ladies.”

As soon as Sterling left, Jane turned to Evelyn and gave her a look.

“You have something you want to tell me?” she said, her voice teasing.

“His mother’s at their Bermuda place with Sterling’s brother,” Evelyn said, walking over to pull the first batch of cupcakes out of the oven. “It’s the first time they’ve been able to pry her away from Eastbridge in ages.”

“Ah,” said Jane. Sterling was in his early fifties, yet his mother still ruled him—and the rest of his family—with an iron fist. For a while, Jane felt bad for him, until she realized it was a choice of his own making. The fact that he’d decided to step up now was promising.
Very
promising.

Evelyn cleared her throat. “So, did you have a good morning with your mom?” she asked.

“She’s good for Andy,” Jane said, trying to keep her voice neutral. Evelyn didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, any time you want to take off over the next couple of weeks, just let me know. That new assistant you hired is working out well.”

“Brynn? Yes. She’s good.” Brynn came in for the early morning shift—from two
A.M.
to six
A.M.
every day—which was just fine with the young woman, because then she was able to head to her second job as a nurse at one of the old-age homes in Norwalk.

Jane was struck by what a motley crew Evelyn had assembled to work at Mountain Laurel Cakes. Women who needed flexibility.
Women who needed a break.

She walked over and wrapped an arm around Evelyn’s shoulder, giving her a long squeeze. “Thank you,” Jane said.

Evelyn looked up at Jane, her blue eyes a little confused. “I appreciate the hug, my dear, but for what are you thanking me?”

“This. Everything.”

Evelyn reached up with a flour-covered hand to pat Jane’s cheek. “You’re welcome. Now let’s get back to work.”

Why wasn’t it this easy with her mom? Mary had been in town for only a few days, and already, things were awkward and tense.

Maybe it was a mistake to have Mary stay with them. Andy’s drawers were just the tip of the iceberg. Mary had also gone after her kitchen cabinets, and even her clothes closets, rearranging everything—nothing seemed to be off-limits.

At least Andy seemed to be happy. Since Mary had come, he’d been calmer than she’d seen him in ages.

And that was her one regret—in leaving Dan she’d left her tight-knit family life behind, and that included Andy’s family life, too. She’d needed to get out of that marriage. She really had. But it wasn’t without its own costs.

By eleven thirty, Jane had plowed through most of that day’s list and, with Steph’s help, had loaded the cake tiers and flowers into Mountain Laurel’s delivery van parked out back.

“Evelyn, I’m heading out. The cupcakes are iced. They’re in the pantry. And Steph has the jam cookies.” She took off her apron and hung it on a nail near the door.

“Good luck,” Evelyn said, wrist-deep in some kneading.

“Thanks,” she said, even though she made her own luck. Every single day.

On Thursday, Carolyn got to the office an hour before she was scheduled to meet with Jake. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, she’d prepared well for the meeting, drawing up a slick PowerPoint presentation that included pictures of the event site, proposed seating, menu selection, and the order of events.

She was dressed for the part in a crisp, oxford button-down and the one pencil skirt she owned without a tear in the seam. She’d even memorized her talk. Yes, it was probably overkill, but she couldn’t afford to mess this up. Jake had decided she was useful—for the time being—but he clearly wasn’t happy to have her around, and he could always find someone else to replace her if she didn’t perform.

Even though she was grateful to have a job, it was stifling to be stuck in this hostess role, and for now, there wasn’t any other way out. She was trapped. At least until her lawyer found Worring, got him indicted for fraud, and forced him to disgorge the money he’d stolen.

She figured she’d be waiting a long time.

Sitting in her stuffy office wasn’t helping her get into the right mindset for her meeting, so she went out one of the side doors of the clubhouse to the garden, where they sometimes had events. At eight on this spring morning, she had no doubt it would be chilly, but likely empty.

But it wasn’t.

Madison and Nick were sitting on one of the benches, side by side. They weren’t touching, but as soon as Maddy saw her, the young woman leapt to her feet. Her sandy-blond hair, usually up in a tight bun, went swinging.

“Carolyn, hi. We were just, ah…what are you…um, I’m not on duty for another half hour and…”

“What Madison is trying to say,” Nick said, standing smoothly, “is that we were discussing the new ownership and what that might mean for us in the short and medium terms.”

“That seems to be the topic on everyone’s mind these days,” Carolyn said, noting the relief on Maddy’s face that Nick had interjected. “How much longer had you planned to stay at Briarwood?”

“I’m applying to med school in the fall, so maybe another year, year and a half, while I work on my applications and do my interviews,” Nick said. “Madison’s timeline is a little longer, though if Eric keeps riding her like he did on Monday, I don’t know how long she’s going to last.”

“I’ll last,” Maddy said, determination creeping into her voice. “I have to.”

If anyone had it in her to last, it was Maddy. She was busting her ass, working two jobs and taking care of her mom on top of everything else. Carolyn wasn’t exactly sure what was holding this girl together, other than sheer grit. In fact, this was the first time she’d seen Maddy talking to anyone outside working hours. Were she and Nick…?

“I have to get inside,” Madison said quickly. “I’ll see you at work, Nick. ’Bye, Carolyn.”

She disappeared through the side door.

Carolyn turned back to Nick. His gaze was still on the door. Nick was maybe a decade younger than she was, handsome, clean-cut, and obviously intelligent. He didn’t smile a lot, but when he did, it always reached his clear blue eyes.

“Madison’s lovely,” Carolyn said, leaving the question she really wanted to ask unspoken.

Nick shook his head. “We’re not together. She’s way too busy, and so am I. You know I’m also working at a research lab in New Haven, and I have to take the MCATs in a couple of weeks. How well I do on that test will determine where I can apply and what kind of scholarships I’m eligible for.”

“You’re going to do great,” Carolyn said.

“I hope so. I’ve wanted to be a doctor pretty much my entire life.” He glanced at the side door again. “I should get inside. Eric will have my ass if I’m not present and accounted for at starting time.”

Carolyn sighed, wishing she could tell Nick the real reason Eric was being such a jackass. “I’ll talk to him again. See if I can get him to ease up on Maddy.”

Nick nodded. “I’d appreciate that. She’s from Norwalk. This gig lets her be with her mom as long as possible in the mornings—she’s been sick for a while. That New Haven job is a nightmare for her. I wish she’d quit and find something closer.” He ran a hand through his thick, brown hair. “Anyway, I have to run. Thanks, again, Carolyn.”

“Anytime.”

Carolyn glanced down at her watch. Ten minutes until she had to give her presentation to Jake Gaffney. She took a deep breath and then nearly choked on it when a deep voice spoke from behind her.

“You have your fingers in everybody’s pies, don’t you, Carolyn?”

She whirled around fast. “Jake. I wasn’t expecting you to be out here.”

He was standing in an opening in the hedgerow that led from the garden out to the great lawn.

“You’re due in my office in ten minutes.”

“I was just heading there,” she said, trying to read him.

He didn’t move. Just crossed his arms over his broad chest and simply waited. Oh,
now
she knew what he wanted. Exactly what she’d want, if she were in his place. Information. But she’d spent months building up relationships. People trusted her. She wouldn’t betray that trust.

“I’m not telling you what’s going on with the staff. It’s not my place to tell. If you want to know something about someone, ask them!”

“You never used to be so protective.”

“I never used to have something worth protecting.” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I mean…”

“I know what you meant,” he said, his voice clipped. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Here? Now?”

“What?” he said, leaning against the arm of the same bench where Nick and Madison had been sitting a few minutes earlier. “You’re not ready?”

“I
am
ready, it’s just that I made a PowerPoint and I don’t have my notes and…” She shut her mouth at Jake’s hard stare. He was determined not to make this easy for her. But she was just as determined not to make it easy for him.

She raised her eyes to the skies and took a deep breath.

Then she pasted on the most genuine smile she could muster and started into her presentation, just like a pro. Which nowadays, she most definitely was. There was no other choice. She had to be.

Jake could barely look at her, could barely even
listen
to her talking. She sounded like he never could—educated, polished, without even trying.

“Do you have any questions to start, Jake?” she said, smoothing out the line of her shirt, even though it didn’t have a crease in it.

“No,” he said gruffly.

He used to love hearing her say his name in that voice. He must be some kind of masochist to insist that she call him Jake instead of Mr. Gaffney, but it was the lesser of two evils. Better to be tormented with images of Carolyn moaning his name than be reminded of his father.

Carolyn had segued from her introduction of the event to the logistics, and he forced himself to concentrate. Not on the long line of her neck and throat. Not on that little skirt she wore, fitted in all the right places. And
definitely
not on the mouth he used to spend hours devouring.

Thinking about her any way but professionally was just trouble.

Thank God she was competent, walking him through her game plan for the event, which she’d suggested take place in just over a month, to give everyone ample time to get ready. This was the first time he’d truly seen her in action, and she really did know her business.

He wouldn’t have put it past her to be a great hostess, but simply showing up on the day of the event and planning it from the ground up were two very different things. She gave him everything he asked for and more. The event would be classy, of course. Modern, yet with a nostalgic feel. Tightly budgeted, which he liked very much. It was perfect.

She
was perfect.

Women like her always were.

He should hate her after what she’d done to him, and for a while, he had. He’d let it seep into his soul. Welcomed it, actually. Right after he’d been arrested, he’d gotten his first tattoo, a string of pearls around his bicep as a reminder of what he should never want—should never touch—again.

The first tour he did with Link saved him. Made him feel worthy of just
being,
like Carolyn had done a long time ago. But with her it had all been a lie, and the sad part was that even then he’d known it. They could never have had a future together—she was always going back to her fancy Manhattan prep school in the fall—to her kind—and he was going back to state college. That was the way things worked, and the fact that he’d ever thought differently just showed how deluded
he
was.

In a way, he owed her thanks. If not for her betrayal, he might never have fought to define himself on his terms, his way. He would always have been striving, grasping to be a part of her world. A world full of lies and snobbery and appearance.

And now look at him! On top while Carolyn and her family were at the bottom. He’d been in New York briefly after he graduated from business school, but then he’d moved down to Miami, so he’d known about Charles Worring’s downfall, but he hadn’t heard about the role Bart Rivington played. Once he’d realized Carolyn was here, he’d done a little digging. She’d told him they lost everything, but what she hadn’t told him was that her dad was embroiled in multiple litigations involving his part in the affair.
Jesus,
what a mess.

He shouldn’t care about what happened to Carolyn and the rest of the Rivington clan. He really shouldn’t. What goes around comes around, right?

Still, she had guts, he had to admit. Any other person would have buckled long ago. But Carolyn Rivington stood there, back straight, head held high, jumping through every hoop he put in her path.

“That’s my proposal for the event. Do you have any questions?” Carolyn tilted her head politely, waiting for him to speak.

“Yes, I—” And then his cellphone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the number. “I have to take this,” he told a surprised Carolyn. “I’ll come to your office if I need more information.”

She nodded once, then turned and walked away. He watched her retreating back, waiting until she was inside before he clicked his phone on.

“Gaffney.”

“Jake, it’s Chris Dryer.” Chris was his general contractor on the Portofino property—luxury apartments in Coral Gables that lately had been giving him nothing but grief.

“Tell me some good news, Chris.”

“I wish I could, but we’re looking at numbers at least fifty percent higher than the original budget.”

“Including the foundation work?”

There was a brief silence. “No.”

“What does the timing for the whole project look like?”

“A year over.”

Shit.
“That’s a third longer than we budgeted for,” he said, trying to keep a lid on his frustration.

“I’m really sorry about this. You know as well as anyone we can’t control what the city does. We couldn’t have known they’d change the building code after Hurricane Francine or that our plans would violate the new code.”

“But we should have banked on Llewellyn’s cost estimates being off by an order of magnitude.” Gregory Llewellyn, the architect he’d hired to design Portofino, was infamous for going over budget. A dull ache began to form deep inside his head, right between his eyes. “Look, I know you’re doing what you can. Why don’t you send me the numbers—everything you’ve got, down to the penny—and I’ll run them again. See if I can prepare a revised construction schedule. Don’t forget to give me the names and estimates from all our subcontractors.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Before the close of business, okay, Chris?”

“Of course. And again, I’m sorry, Jake. I wish things were different.”

“Me, too.”

Jake jabbed the off switch on his cellphone and shoved it back in his pocket. Construction costs had a funny way of snowballing. He’d expected some ballooning—after all, the condos were being built in pricey Coral Gables and he’d actually calculated in 10 percent of wiggle room. But somehow, things had spiraled out of control. Llewellyn was all vision and no practicality. But Chris was right—he had no control over the city. Damn those faulty estimates and damn the city for making everything so difficult.

He’d borrowed heavily to finance the Portofino construction, and the loan covenants required Jake to fund any cost overruns out of his own pocket. And at the moment, he had no available reserves, as he had earmarked the rest of his available capital to invest in Briarwood. He’d bought the place outright for five million, intending to spend at least ten million on renovations. He hadn’t thought he’d be stretched thin, and at the time, the risk seemed minimal, especially since his other investments were doing well. But Portofino had knocked him for a loop.

He knew full well that his reserve money had to go toward Briarwood’s refurbishment, not to doubling down on construction costs for Portofino because in this economy, banks were not interested in loans to help renovate country clubs.

Blinking, he strode purposefully toward the golf course. He needed to walk while he plotted how to get himself out of this jam.
Ah, hell,
he needed a place to really breathe, and not just because of the Portofino fiasco. Because of her. Because of everything being here brought back.

He was good enough. He knew he was. But Carolyn didn’t seem to see it that way. And the Board didn’t, either. They’d put him through the wringer so far, getting the club’s attorney to attack everything from the legality of the sale to Jake’s right to make changes. It had been only three weeks since the deal closed, but already he’d felt as if he’d waged a small war.

He was on the approach to the putting green when a familiar figure loomed in his line of sight—Vernon Chelmsford, chairman of the Board of Trustees and the man leading the charge against him.
And the day just keeps getting better and better.

Vernon clearly noticed him, because he stopped putting, straightened, and waited. The hint of a smile curled on his craggy face. The man was spoiling for a fight, as usual. No surprise. Vernon was a former prosecutor turned state court judge, and it seemed like almost every conversation they had was designed to get Jake to confess to something.