by Lisa Hughey
He dug a sharpie out of the baby’s diaper bag. “I’ll be back.”
“What are you really doing here?” Tracy thought there had to be more to the story than they’d shared.
“I really did have a craving.” Elise cooed at Mary.
“Oh my God, you’re pregnant again?” Tracy brushed her hand over Mary’s hair. The baby was an adorable mix of D and Elise with dark golden skin and dark curly hair.
“Shh, we aren’t telling anyone yet.”
“You just told me.” Tracy’s heart burst. Elise and D were one of her success stories. Although they didn’t actually know that she’d expected them to get on so well when she engineered their meeting.
“We’ve been worried about you,” Elise said softly.
Tracy had another thought. “You didn’t figure out where I was, did you?” Because if her friends figured it out, a reporter or the press could do the same.
“Pretty sure Pete and Britt have known the whole time.”
What?
Tracy dropped into the chair next to Elise. She was on duty, but Elise had just dropped a bombshell and all her customers were in line to get an autograph from D. “They told you where to find me?”
Elise nodded. “The general area.”
The whole time she thought she was here all alone, her friends were out there thinking about her.
“They’re still getting hounded by the press and they didn’t want to potentially lead anyone here.”
That made her miserable. She hadn’t meant to bring this kind of scrutiny down on her friends.
“So we offered to come check on you.”
Another thought occurred to her. “But how did you know to come to the Speakeasy?”
“I really do follow @ceeceeinthecountry.” Elise laughed. “We stopped here for lunch. Then Pete was going to ping you on your email for us so we could find you.”
Her heart warmed. After weeks of feeling alone, her friends had been looking out for her.
Elise glanced around the packed restaurant. “Bet you can’t wait to get out of Vermont.”
“It’s beautiful here,” Tracy defended.
“It is. But it isn’t Boston,” Elise said softly.
Elise was right. It wasn’t the city. Yet she didn’t really miss it.
“So—” Elise leaned forward in her seat, while Mary banged on the table with her little fists “—who’s the guy?”
Tracy glanced at Colt but he was studiously ignoring her. And her heart broke just a little. “Colton Vega.”
Elise blinked as if trying to place him. A bunch of patrons circled around D’Andre clamoring for autographs.
“Celebrity chef. Vega’s in the city was his signature restaurant but he had a couple of others before he left Boston.” Until he had his epic meltdown.
Elise nodded. “I vaguely remember reading something about it. But that look was more than just a celebrity chef you happened to meet.”
Tracy kept her gaze away from Colt. She couldn’t talk about him right now. “I have to get back to work.”
“Why are you working here? You could probably buy this whole town,” Elise joked.
Tracy ducked her head. “It’s a long story.” She grabbed a few menus and handed them to Elise. “Everything on the menu is really good.”
Elise pressed a hand to her flat stomach. “How about a decaf hot tea?”
“I’ll get it right away.”
The crowd around D had started to dissipate. But the customers had turned their attention to Tracy and Elise, wondering who he had come in with and who he had spoken with in the restaurant.
More rumblings started. Did someone recognize her?
“You should try the grilled cheese with the duck confit. It’s to die for.” She scurried toward the kitchen.
Other people in the restaurant were looking at Tracy as if they should know her. Crap. This was escalating quickly.
Then her worst nightmare came true. “Is that Tracy Thayer?” The damage had been done and there was nowhere to hide.
“Congressman Thayer’s daughter?”
“Isn’t she the one with the dating app?”
Conversations swirled around the dining room.
Anne and Matteo both stopped what they were doing to stare at Tracy. Matteo had paused mid swiping of the counter. Anne’s mouth was hanging open. They’d been slightly awed by D’Andre but now they were looking at her like she was an alien.
The worst was Colt.
He seemed to instinctively realize she’d been discovered.
He didn’t look happy about it when he realized she hadn’t just lied about her name, and she wasn’t just holing up to lick her own wounds, but that she’d been actively hiding from the public.
“Fairy Tale Beginnings is yours?” Anne said so loudly that the customers at the Gin Mill could probably hear her.
“You are that congressman’s daughter? Aren’t you like a billionaire?” Matteo pulled the tap and began filling the Pilsner glasses. “What are you doing working at the Speakeasy?”
She could feel Colt behind her.
She turned around slowly. Hadn’t she just been thinking life was perfect?
He stood there with his arms crossed over his chest.
She ignored everyone else and just spoke to Colt. He was the only person here who mattered. “I…should have told you.”
“The Thayers?” Colt flexed his forearms with a forbidding frown on his face. “According to your family story, your parents have the ultimate fairy-tale romance.”
He raised his eyebrows, silently asking what the hell?
Shit.
“That’s my family,” she said tightly. She had told him the truth. She could see the realization dawning in his eyes. He knew their secrets.
“You’re the one they were looking for during that news piece a few weeks ago.”
She nodded miserably.
She hadn’t anticipated how terrible she would feel. He had the power to severely harm her family’s reputation. But even more than that, he had the power to hurt her.
“Were you going to tell me?”
Before she could answer, a guy from one of the tables pushed next to her. “Tracy Thayer, I’d love to ask you some questions.”
“You’ll have to check with our media office if you want an interview.” Her response was rote, involuntary and immediate. She didn’t even need to think.
“They’ve been stonewalling for weeks and you are right here.”
She and Bernie had hammered out what to say over the phone this morning. Thayers didn’t speak with the press unless a carefully crafted statement had been preapproved.
But she didn’t want to speak to the press right now. She wanted to clear things up with Colt.
She noticed how quickly Colt recoiled when he realized the guy was a reporter.
“No comment.”
Colt snorted. “Good luck with that.”
Everyone in the bar was listening. The murmur had died to a hush as she turned the reporter down.
“Come on. You’re right here. Just one question.” The reporter got in her face, shoving closer. “What did your father say when he found out you were running a dating service?”
“She said to leave her alone.” Colt stepped between the two of them.
“It’s okay.” She put her hand on his forearm. “I’ve got this.”
“Hey! I recognize you,” the reporter said to Colt.
Colt’s face closed up. He was mad. But he’d still stepped in to protect her.
In that moment Tracy’s dream withered and died on the vine like a flower without water. She pulled the reporter’s attention back to her.
“You want a statement?” She moved away from Colt so that the reporter would follow. But he continued to look back over his shoulder at Colt.
She didn’t want to talk to a reporter, but in this moment, her only thought was to protect Colt.
“Follow me.”
She led him away from Colt. A
nd she walked away from the future she’d been dreaming of.
16
Tracy
The reporter turned around to look at Colt one more time.
“You get two questions.” Tracy diverted his attention and led him up the stairs to the event space where Chuck and Lottie would have their anniversary party. She’d been hoping to stay until that happened, but now that it was out that she was here, her presence would be trouble she didn’t want to bring to Colebury.
“You want to know my father’s thoughts about the dating app? My father continues to be proud of the accomplishments of both me and my brother.” Which didn’t answer the spirit of his question, but that was his problem not hers.
“What do you say to the charges of elitism leveled by your father’s opponent?”
This was not in the approved statement that Bernie had sent along but she was going to answer honestly. “I’d say, while that was not my intention, that he was correct.”
The reporter blinked, clearly surprised at her answer. Especially after the previous non-answer.
“Fairy Tale Beginnings prides itself on doing intensive security background checks and discovery on our clients to make sure that they represent themselves properly. We also use a very sophisticated questionnaire system along with personal counselors. It is an expensive service to run and I priced the registration fee accordingly. But I acknowledge now that the fee prices out a significant portion of the population. We are going to take steps to address that.”
She wasn’t sure how. Her business model was based on the current pricing, but she also knew that things couldn’t stand the way they were.
“What about Esme Taylor’s accusations?”
“I won’t comment on my family’s private life. But I believe our family’s commitment to championing the less fortunate and creating opportunities to help others speaks for itself. Actions are louder than any random person’s words.”
She’d love to out Esme for manipulating the system but that would only bring about more scrutiny. And that was the last thing they wanted.
That should be enough time for Colt to have disappeared.
She’d also love to tell the reporter to ask Esme but the condition of her settlement with Thomas was that she cease and desist from any more criticism or revelations about their family.
Tracy thought her parents should consider coming clean about their relationship. But that was their secret to tell.
“I gave you a bonus answer.” She tried to pull out her marketing and press secretary persona and answer with a smile, leave them feeling good. But her mind was still back on the look of betrayal that Colt had leveled at her before he’d left. “And I’ve got to get back to work.”
“You are actually working here?” His tone was so dismissive her hackles went up.
“They have the best grilled cheese and sliders around. And the cider is top-notch.”
Colt
Colt was pissed.
He had to get out of here. He left the Speakeasy quietly. He wasn’t about to make a scene. But his temper was simmering and the last thing he needed to do was be angry in public. And for a moment, he’d forgotten.
Cee-Cee was famous. No, not Cee-Cee. Tracy.
Tracy Thayer.
Everyone knew who the Thayers were. Her family was well-connected and prominent, like the Kennedys and the Bushes with generations of family in public office.
She wasn’t just running from a crappy situation or taking a break from a stressful life. She’d been hiding out. From the press. From the public. She was famous—as in “in the tabloids and society pages and the New York Times” famous.
All the clues had been there, but he’d ignored them because she made him feel good.
Now she had brought the press down on him and the little town of Colebury. Her entire life was a fishbowl.
Things were coming back to him. Pictures of her cousin’s sixteenth birthday party had been in People magazine. The party had not been that extravagant compared to some of the celebutants around at the time, but people were obsessed with her family.
His younger sister had kept that article about her cousin’s sweet sixteen birthday party taped to her bedroom wall. He had probably looked at teenaged Tracy Thayer a million times before that picture came down.
His sister had gone through a phase where she wanted to be famous. She’d been the most thrilled when he’d been competing on cooking shows and hobnobbing with celebrities. She’d also been most contrite when it had all gone to shit.
Earlier when that reporter got in Tracy’s face, he’d wanted to step in and vanquish the reporter for her. But he didn’t even know what to say.
He couldn’t go back to life in a fishbowl.
The thought of being a target for the press made him want to throw up. That initial hit of anger was a huge red flag. He was never going back to those feelings again. Not for anyone.
Not that she had asked.
He headed back to his cabin and waited. He assumed she’d come back there.
Although who knew. She didn’t need the things she’d left at his place.
She was rich AF. He should get out and let her come by and pick up her stuff without him around. But he wanted to talk to her before she left.
Needed to hear why she’d continued to lie to him.
They had shared plenty of concerns and fears about life and she had never once mentioned that her family was famous. She had known that he would have been appalled.
He paced around the cabin, an abundance of restless energy pulsing through him.
He needed to do something to release the pressure cooker of his emotions.
Cook. He needed to cook. The meeting with Chuck and Lottie and their friends had been fun. He’d been inspired to try some new dishes.
A few hours later, after messing around in the kitchen—stress cooking, was that his new thing?—the dishes were plated and waiting for him to taste, but he didn’t have an appetite. The food looked good, smelled great, and his stomach rolled at the thought of eating.
Colt heard her car come up the drive.
He sat on the day-bed, leaning back, hands clasped between his legs. He’d been sitting here waiting, so many things running through his mind.
He’d thought they’d been cultivating a bond but clearly she’d just been marking time.
She walked through the door and he drank in the sight of her. It would probably be the last time they spoke and he wanted to remember every little detail.
He wanted to stay mad at her, but the overwhelming emotion that crowded his throat and kept him quiet was sadness.
She’d brought him back to life.
Then she’d stabbed him in the heart.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“What took you so long?” He’d expected her earlier.
“I finished out my shift.”
“Why?” She didn’t need the money. In addition to the generational wealth, she’d started an incredibly successful dating service.
“I couldn’t leave Phoebe in a bind,” she said tentatively. “And I spent a bit of time with D and Elise since they had come up to check on me.”
Her famous wealthy friends.
“How do you know D?” she asked.
“We worked on a fundraiser for food insecurity in Boston a few years ago. Back when he was still playing football.”
“Ah.” She stood awkwardly just inside the doorway. “I’m sorry.”
There were so many things to be sorry for. Did he actually care why she was sorry? He wasn’t sure it mattered. But she seemed to be waiting for him to say something.
“I should have….” She began to wander aimlessly around the tiny cabin, not looking at him.
He wasn’t in the mood to be forgiving. She hadn’t straight-up lied, but… “There was plenty of time to mention your family was freaking political royalty.”
She flinched. “True.”
There was an unvoiced but her response.
“There was the scandal.” About her dating app.
“And….” She nodded. “You’re right. But once I told you, everything would have changed. And for just a little bit I wanted to be happy. To be Cee-Cee.”
“Why give me, everyone, a fake name?”
“Because I was tired of being Tracy.” She plopped down into the wing chair. “Cee-Cee is more relaxed, she tells people what she really thinks, she doesn’t have to run her thoughts through a curated filter to make sure they don’t offend anyone and piss off the wrong people.”
“You’re talking about Cee-Cee like she’s real.”
“She is real. She is me.” Tracy’s shoulders slumped. “The unfiltered version of me anyway.”
So what was he? Just a dalliance while she was stuck in Vermont? He couldn’t bring himself to ask.
She was leaving. Did it really matter?
“I was able to keep your name out of the statement.” Tracy got up and started moving around the room, picking up her clothing and shoving items haphazardly into her Louis Vuitton bag. “The reporter recognized you after you left.”
He shrugged. He was old news. Hopefully. Unless someone brought up his catering for the Speakeasy, he should be an oddity. A quick “where is he now?” and then he’d be forgotten again. Just the way he wanted it.
As long as he stayed out of the public eye, which would never happen with her around.
She zipped up her bag and then stood in front of him, twisting her hands together. “I need to ask you a favor.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’d appreciate it if you would not tell anyone what I told you about my parents.” She looked miserable. “In complete honesty, you could sell that information for a lot of money. But it would destroy my family.”
Anger blazed through him. He had never been obsessed with money. Fame, yes. “You think money is what motivates me?” She didn’t know him at all.
“No. I apologize for implying that.” She shook her head. “But that is a closely guarded secret.”
She was composed. Too composed. She had on her fake face. The one she showed to other people.
There was no smiling happening.
He shoved to standing and began to pace.