Domenic, too, stood. “I will find the information that I have on file and send it home with you. I suspect it won’t be too useful, though.”
“I had no idea that Pepper was her nickname, although I always suspected.”
“Of course, Sophia is the ‘real’ Pepper. When I met her, I told her that her nickname did not suit her, in my opinion. She said that her mother gave her that nickname because she enjoyed spicy foods.”
“I can’t believe this,” Meg whispered. She picked up her phone and called the sales office at the Sea Castle Inn.
* * *
Sally cracked open the door to his office. “I’m leaving now, Jackson. Is there anything you need from me before I lock up for the night?”
Jackson peered up at her, unaware of the time. “Before you go, could you find Alex’s cell phone number? I may need to call him after hours.”
“Absolutely.”
He had been poring over the reports for hours, creating a list of questions. He’d tried Alex in IT a few minutes before, but had missed him. A turn in his gut told him he would have more questions soon and would not want to wait until daybreak for answers.
Sally entered the room and set a 3 x 5 card in front of him. “I took the liberty of phoning Alex to let him know you may be calling him this evening. He says to tell you he will be available all night. Good night, Jackson.”
He kept his eyes trained on his list of questions. Thousands of dollars had been paid to their bank, ostensibly for company credit cards. But why so much? Meg had not traveled for months and Jackson surely had not spent that kind of money on his card. He tapped the desk with a pen. Are there other expenses that were being put on those cards, items he had not known about or authorized?
What he needed to see were the accounts themselves. He silently cursed himself for not taking greater care where money was concerned. “Son, you have this notion that money appears on the ground every time an onshore wind blows through the trees.” His father’s admonishment reverberated in his brain.
He reached for the card Sally had left on his desk and dialed up Alex, who answered on the first ring.
“Yes, sir!”
Again with the sir. “Good evening, Alex. Jackson Riley here. I wonder if you could help me with a project.”
“I’m at your service.”
“I’d like to have access to Pepper’s email account.”
“You would like to break into Ms. Riley’s email?”
“It is not breaking in if I ask my IT manager to grant access.” He bit back a stronger rebuke, frustration rising in him. “Ms. Riley is traveling and I have some important projects to complete—tonight.”
“Absolutely. Sorry, sir. I will get that information and send it to you A-SAP!”
“And if I need more information, you will be available tonight, correct?”
“Yessir.”
As promised, Jackson received an email with Pepper’s user name and password. He held his breath, the seriousness of what he was doing—accessing his sister’s email account without authorization—boxing him in. Nothing felt right about this, and yet, enough felt wrong about Pepper’s numbers to compel him to investigate.
He signed in, scrolling through her email, careful not to mark anything new as read. He stopped on one that confirmed plane reservations and opened it up. She’d made a plane reservation for Tampa, Florida, leaving this morning. Nothing startling there. He scrutinized the ticket, his fingers hovering above the mouse. He froze. The name on the ticket: Gia Agli.
Jackson frowned. It wasn’t his sister’s ticket after all. Why would Pepper purchase plane fare for someone else with company funds? He closed the email and scrolled, landing on another one for the same airline. Click. Scroll. Same name on the ticket, although this one was for Tampa to Miami. He wracked his brain, trying to recall if he had ever met a Gia Agli, but nothing rose to mind.
He collapsed against his chair back and groaned. The sun had gone down leaving his eyes to deal with unnatural light. He rubbed them, but they burned anyway, hours staring at pages and pages of finite numbers taking their toll.
Gia Agli. Italian surname. Could she be someone Domenic knew of in Italy? Someone who he should know, but in his inattentiveness, had missed? He glanced outside at the darkness. Probably too late to call Domenic, though Meg’s presence there made calling Italy all the more appealing. His eyes darted a look for his phone to check the time. He remembered then that he had hidden it in a drawer to avoid distraction.
It worked, apparently.
He retrieved his phone and switched it on, waiting for it to power up. When it did, he noted that not only was it too late to call Italy, but worse, not one call from Meg waited for him. Not one.
* * *
Meg lay in bed that night, insomnia her companion. Over and over she shut her eyes, begging sleep to come, but over and over again worry pried her eyes back open. She stared at the ceiling, the only light in the room coming from the Florence sky.
Jackson had not returned her call. She should have left him a more detailed message, something that, despite this low point in their relationship would have compelled him to pick up the phone and call her.
After dinner, she made a call to Lucky, her sales manager at Sea Castle, keeping the rising drama to herself.
“Hey, Lucky. It’s Meg. I’ll be returning home soon from Italy and wanted to check in to see how you’re faring out there. Anything new?”
Lucky’s sigh resembled a grumble. “Other than ‘that’ woman moving out here, you mean? Wish I could go off to Italy right now!”
“Sorry, kiddo. I heard a rumor that Pepper was thinking of relocating.”
“It’s no rumor. She showed up with no warning, wanted our best suite—which meant booting a long-time guest—and has been nothing but ornery. How are we supposed to get anything done with that jaguar sniffing around here all the time?”
Meg stilled her breathing, the desire to expose Pepper for the imposter she believed her to be churning through her chest. In due time … in due time … “Other than commandeering a suite, has she made any other requests?”
A whoosh of air—Lucky exhaling—filled her earpiece. “Well, for one, she came in here and immediately said she was in charge. That did not go over very well with Janet at the desk, especially since she did so in front of a family checking in.” She exhaled again. “Oh, and she demanded the night auditor turn over all of his reports to her before our bookkeeper has a chance to review them and make adjustments. Messes with our whole routine!”
She could make no sense of this. Why would Pepper up and leave California for their smallest property in the east? What did she have to gain by throwing her weight around out there?
“Speaking of Macy—our bookkeeper—she was wringing her hands in my office today.” She groaned. “Said Pepper’s lavish taste might just bankrupt this place.”
Meg frowned. What had Macy meant by that? Pepper had been nothing but chintzy at Sea Glass Inn. Not only with the staff, but regarding hotel upgrades. She’d overheard her arguing with Jackson more than once about improvements he wanted to make. Always said they couldn’t afford it, and considering Jackson was regularly meeting with potential investors, Meg had come to believe that the company was beginning to flounder.
The only one who seemed to have any real money … was Pepper. She sat up, a gasp escaping her. Everything about Pepper, all the way to those fat-dissolving injections in her chin, were lavish—her wardrobe, nails, hair, her car. She had assumed that William had left them with plenty, but what if she had blown through her share and was now on the hunt for more?
Meg grabbed her phone from her nightstand, opened her airline app, and booked a plane—to Florida’s gulf coast.
Chapter 19
He missed her. Jackson flopped onto his back, his bed cold and lonely. He wanted to reach out and stroke her back, to pull her close. He put a fist to his forehead, trying to still his thoughts. Why had he sent that impersonal text, the
one that told her to send him her schedule when she got back to the States? He wanted to talk to her now. She had probably taken that as an insult, a slap against the intimate relationship they had been building. Well, the new one they had been building. The old one had been long buried. At least, he hoped so.
Jackson turned back over and punched his ice-cold pillow before sinking into it. This relationship seesaw had gone on too long and he wanted to jump off—and pull Meg off with him.
He took his phone from his nightstand and punched in her number, not caring that he would no doubt wake her up. With each ring of her line, his breathing quickened and his heart stirred a little more. He swallowed and licked his lips, waiting, waiting, waiting, until her voicemail answered:
You have reached Meg of Riley Holdings. I’m sorry to have missed your call, but please do leave me your name and number and I will return your call. Please note that I am traveling out of the country and there may be a delay. Thank you.
“Meg, it’s me. I-I miss you.” He paused, not sure what else to add, though there was still so much to say. “I can’t wait for you to return home. Bye.”
With a grunt that shook the walls of his bedroom, Jackson pitched his phone across the room with the force of a bereft man, quite sure he heard glass breaking.
* * *
She would miss this place. In the dark of morning, Meg packed her bags. She took a shower and put on her most comfortable clothes—yoga pants, a cotton tee, and sneakers—knowing she would be wearing them for hours. She glanced about the room, regret filling her that she could not stay longer in this beautiful home and city. She shut her eyes, remembering the sound of Jackson’s voice in this place and wishing he were still here beside her.
She unplugged her phone from the wall and stopped. A voicemail. Jackson had called her and left a message. She gulped, staring at his name on her screen. He probably was answering that phone message that she had left at the office. Could she survive another impersonal call from Jackson? To hear his voice in monotone? She shook her head in the dark, certain his call was anything but personal.
No matter. She had good friends to say goodbye to and a plane to catch. If she were to call him back, she would no doubt wake him. No sense continuing with this volley of phone calls. She would call him when she reached Florida—and ask him what in the world he would have her do.
* * *
He awoke, checked his phone, and frowned. Nothing. Meg had ignored his middle-of-the-night call, the one where he’d rolled up his sleeves and shown her a piece of his heart. Had he expected anything else? Wounded, he picked up the phone to call Domenic.
“Jackson, I am so glad you called.”
Domenic’s voice sounded serious. Not the expected greeting. “Hello, Domenic. Before I go on, please don’t mention to Meg that I am calling.” He did not want her pity.
“I’m afraid I could not do that even if I wanted to. Meg has already left Italy.”
Jackson glanced at the calendar. She left four days early? “I don’t understand. Her flight isn’t until a few days from now.”
“We will get to that, son. First, tell me why you are calling.”
If he weren’t so desperate to hear Meg’s voice, to know her whereabouts and be assured of her well-being, he might have laughed at Domenic’s sidestep.
“Okay, sure. I have been doing some research regarding some of our expenditures and a name has surfaced. I was wondering if you could tell me if you know a person named Gia Agli?”
“Gia? No, no, son. I don’t know anyone by that name.”
He tried. It was a hunch, a long shot certainly, but he would have to find some other way to pinpoint why Riley Holdings had paid for this Gia Agli to travel to Florida. He rolled his eyes. Pepper constantly complained about company expenditures and here she was booking a flight for a friend—or someone.
“However,” Domenic continued, “I know a Sophia Agli. Are you sure that is not the name you are trying to find?”
“You do? No, the name is definitely Gia, but may I ask how you know Sophia Agli? I wonder if she is related to the woman I am trying to locate.”
“This is something that I am trying to determine, too. Son, we have a suspicion that you need to be aware of. It is quite serious.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s about Pepper. The woman who has been working with you at the inn, the Pepper you know, Meg does not believe that is your sister.”
“What do you mean not my sister?” He paused, his mind overwhelmed by the thought. “Father spoke about her—said he met her in New York, and that she was his long-lost daughter.” The term “love child” stuck in his mind, but he bit back his tongue, unwilling to say it. “Are you saying my father was mistaken?”
“Jackson, your father most definitely met his daughter, Sophia. She was also known as Pepper. But dear Meg spotted a photograph of Sophia in my study and inquired as to who she was. She stated that the woman in the photograph, and the woman you know as Pepper, are not the same.” He paused, allowing the news to sink in. “I am very sorry to have to deliver this suspicion to you, son.”
His thoughts exploded. Not his sister? Then who was she?
“I don’t understand this, Domenic.” Who was the woman who claimed to be his sister? And if this were true, how had she gotten away with it?
“I am stunned.” A thought pricked him to his core. “If Pepper is not my sister, where is the real Sophia?”
“Sadly, I do not have information on her whereabouts. You might recall that we could not initially locate Pepper.”
Though he had been filled with grief at the time, Jackson remembered this. “I remember now. You suggested hiring an investigator.”
“And all he could provide us with was her last known address, an apartment that appeared to be abandoned.”
“So I sent her a registered letter.”
“You did.”
“My hope was that she would ignore it.”
“I suspected as much. It appears that the mail may have been intercepted. Perhaps this Pepper who you know is a relative of Sophia’s.”
“Domenic, I need your help. Help me find out where Gia Agli came from—and what happened to Sophia. Will you do that for me?”
“I will do everything in my power to help you—my Elena is already on her knees in prayer.”
Jackson sighed. He would need all the prayers he could get. “What time was Meg’s flight? I would like to know when to expect her.”
“She left about four hours ago, but son, you should not expect to see her. She was bound for Florida.”
* * *
She arrived at Tampa International Airport rumpled, sore, and far less sure of herself than when she had boarded. Who knew that traveling from Italy to Florida could take as much time as if she were to fly all the way home? She texted Lucky that she’d be heading to the inn shortly and to save her a room, then she went in search of coffee, the strongest she could find.
“Double cap for Meg!”
She reached through the throng of caffeine-starved travelers and downed her cup before she’d left the airport. In the cab, she scowled. Three missed calls from Jackson. Her heart flipped, conflicted. She’d missed him, but after the way they had ended things in Italy, she did not dare admit it. Still, she ached over the thought that the inns—and his life—had been invaded by an imposter. She couldn’t put him off any longer and punched in his number.
“Meg.”
“Hi. It’s me.”
“Where are you?”
She glanced out the window. Uncharacteristic grey sky. “About thirty minutes from Sea Castle Inn.”
His voice sounded like a growl. “Why do you always have to run ahead?”
“Excuse me?” The grumpy tone to his voice had startled her.
“You can’t fix this, Meg. Come home.”
Fix what? Their relationship and all their rocky starts? “Jackson, we can talk about us later. I have something important to tell you … to talk
to you about. It’s the reason I’m in Florida now.”
“I know.”
“You … do?”
“I spoke with Domenic.” A rushing sound filled her ears, as if he had just exhaled a thousand sighs.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“You should not be there, Meg. Get out of Florida today. I’ll handle this.”
She sucked in a harsh breath. The force of his tone unnerved her. “She lied about my mother. Put a wedge between you and me by saying William was sending checks to her. That alone is reason for me to confront her.”
He whistled. “You are stubborn.”
“I know this isn’t just about me.” She sensed her guard crumbling. Why did he not seem to understand? “I-I just hate that she’s done this to you.”
“What she said about the checks … that was accurate. Over the course of several years, my father wrote checks to your mother, often in amounts in the thousands.”
“That can’t be true! I would have known about it.”
“Meg.”
She laid her head against the seat of the cab, despite the sickening reality that this car had probably not been cleaned in, well, forever. “Why would you believe this?”
“Look, I’m sure my father had a good reason for writing those checks. I don’t question that—although I do think your mother owes you some kind of explanation so you can put this to rest.”
She glanced out the window, a familiar change in the sky as they moved closer to the gulf. “I’m on my way there now. Just tell me what to look for and I’m all over it.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no? I’m here. I can help.”
“I mean no. Absolutely not. This is my battle—not yours. I will deal with this.”
“Now who’s being stubborn? I’m here now and you’re not. Why not just let me help?”
A long pause fell between them until he said, “Because I will fire you if you do. If you set foot on the Sea Castle property, you will no longer be employed at Riley Holdings.” More silence. “And I won’t speak to you again.”
Runaway Tide Page 17