"That's a possibility. I have some work to catch up on. I estimate I should be able to finish in about two hours and twenty-seven minutes."
He laughed, thinking she must be joking, but she didn't smile back. A sinking feeling settled into his gut. Without all the candlelight and New Year's champagne, things didn't feel nearly as hopeful with Cornelia. "How about some coffee? The Venus and Mars makes a mean sticky bun."
But it was hard to impress a New Yorker when it came to coffee or gigantic pastries. They sat in awkward silence as she inspected the mountain of pecans and caramel.
The rumble of a truck engine caught his attention. Good Lord, he was like a tuning fork when it came to Brianna—her vehicle included.
She jerked the truck to a stop at the curb outside. Overloaded with an armful of fresh-cut flowers in shades of cornflower and lavender, she dashed into the cafe. A gust of fresh, sweet air came with her. "Sorry I'm late," she panted to the cashier. "Engine trouble."
The dreadlocked barista buried his nose in the flowers. "These smell amazing. Did you grow them?"
"In my very own greenhouse."
As she hurried out of the cafe, her gaze swept over him and Cornelia. She stumbled just a bit but then offered a friendly wave and a rushed “good morning.”
He smiled at her, trying with all his might to make it look like any other smile. It must not have worked, because Cornelia turned to watch Brianna hop into her truck.
"Oh sweet heavens, I recognize that girl. She's the one from the fashion show. Poor thing, I guess she got as far away from your mother as she could." With a condescending smile, she watched the old red truck cruise down Constellation Way.
"What are you talking about?"
"That girl absolutely blew up the mother-daughter fashion show. People were talking about it for days. What a scene."
Dread closed like a vise around his throat. "What sort of scene?"
"The sort of scene your mother despises. A public one, very embarrassing. That girl was supposed to recite a little write-up about the dress she was wearing, but instead she went rogue and gave a sort of spontaneous speech. Oh my gosh, what was it she said?" She tapped her finger on her chin.
"You were there?"
"Of course. It's a holiday tradition. Usually it's all the same people, you know, so of course she got attention simply for being new. Then she began her rant about fashion and clothes, and I think she threw something about Cinderella in there, and…hang on. I have the video."
Rollo hauled in a deep breath as she pulled up YouTube on her phone. He didn't really want to see Brianna's moment of fame. But he had to. He had to get the full picture.
And there she was in a puffy ball gown at the end of a runway, standing in a Superman-like pose. The sound was iffy, the video quality sketchy. But he'd know that Brianna nervous babble anywhere.
"Hi, I'm Brianna and I'm wearing a ham. Oops, sorry, that's not right. Okay, trying again. I'm Brianna and I'm not a Wareham. I'm representing the Warehams, which is pretty funny because when it comes to me and clothes, I'm kind of like Pigpen. Or like Cinderella if she just stayed in the fireplace getting all sooty. If there's a speck of dirt anywhere nearby, it'll come to me like a magnet. Dirt and me, yup, we're pretty much inseparable. I couldn't even find clean underwear for tonight, so I turned an old pair inside out. Have you ever tried that trick? I swear it's not as gross as it sounds."
His mother, wearing a similar ball gown and a look of absolute horror, tried to take away the mic. Brianna had such a death grip on it that nothing worked. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Wareham. I told you this might be a disaster. This is a disaster, isn't it? Like a crazy, beyond-awful disaster?"
The shocked silence in the hotel ballroom broke as a wave of laughter swept through the elegant guests. Brianna just kept on going, as if she'd completely lost control of her mouth. "I should just take this ball gown off before I rip it or trample it or wipe my sweaty hands on it…oops, too late…oh, it's Vera Wang! That's what I was supposed to say! And it's taffy. Taffeta. Okay, I think I should go now. Here, Mrs. …You."
Apparently she'd forgotten his family name by that point. She thrust the microphone at his stunned mother and fled down the runway, past upturned faces and iPhones recording her flight. She stumbled and lost a shoe, but kept going.
Wise choice.
A guest in the front row leaned forward and snatched the shoe off the runway. "Souvenir!" she called. "We'll be auctioning this off later, so save some of your pennies!"
More laughter. His mother's face was somewhere between scarlet and heart-attack purple. She said something into the mic that couldn't be heard over the din of laughter.
And then the video ended.
Cornelia wore an avid look that told Rollo she'd watched the whole thing more than once. "Classic, no? Do you think she'd give me her autograph? I could dine for weeks off that."
Rollo shoved his chair back with a sound like fingernails on a blackboard. "That's a friend of mine. Did my mother mention that?"
"Of course she did." Cornelia offered him a smooth smile. "She said that she'd latched onto Sidney as a way into your family. Your mother wasn't at all surprised by that little meltdown. She thinks she's a terrible influence on your sister. Very relieved she left."
"That's ridiculous. All of it."
"Is it? When you come from families like ours, you have to be careful. People want to be part of our world. But they can't be, can they? There's a reason we need gatekeepers, so to speak."
Rage surfed through Rollo's system, making his blood boil. What a snob she was. He couldn't stand that sort of attitude. Come to think of it, he couldn't stand her. She was everything he didn't like about the world he'd grown up in.
"I'm sorry, Cornelia. I have to be honest with you here. This isn't going anywhere between us. I'm sorry you flew all the way out here for nothing. But this just isn't going to happen."
Cornelia smiled coolly and nibbled on a pecan from the sticky bun. "Oh sweetie. Would you relax? Everything will be okay. From what Alicia tells me, she holds the cards. I can't say you're my usual type, since I rarely date lumberjacks. But she swears you're going to clean up your act. So I think you should just get over yourself and drink your coffee and we'll work this out like civilized people."
Rollo put both hands on the table and leaned forward, steam practically coming out of his ears. "What the fuck makes you think I'm civilized?"
Her pupils widened and she drew back. "Oh my. Well, sometimes a little uncivilized behavior makes a nice change. In certain circumstances."
Hell no. Was she talking about in bed? He didn't want to sleep with her. Or touch her. Or kiss her, or even spend one more minute in her company.
"I'm in love with someone else," he said, enunciating every word. "I won't marry anyone but her. My family is just going to have to deal with it."
"You're going to walk away from your inheritance? Then you're a fool. I don't date fools."
He rose to his feet before things got ugly. Let her think him a fool. What did he care? Maybe he was a fool. A fool for love. "Thanks for coming out, Cornelia. I'll send someone to take you back to the airport. Or if you prefer to do some sightseeing, feel free."
Cornelia busied herself pulling her sunglasses from her purse and sliding them onto her nose. Maybe she was more hurt than she let on. He felt bad about that, but then again, not too bad. "I'll take my sightseeing out the window of my flight back, thank you."
"Fine. Your ride will be here shortly."
Already tugging his phone out of his pocket, Rollo left the cafe. His heart felt light and free—happy. He no longer felt lost in the forest. He'd reached a high ridge and could see everything clearly.
He loved Brianna. He belonged with Brianna. No one else would ever do.
His first text went to Finn. Pretty blond at the Venus and Mars needs a ride to airport. It's worth a month of rent.
You don't charge me rent.
I will if you don't pick her up.
&n
bsp; His next text went to Bri. Where r u? Need to see you right away.
He got no answer from her. Swinging into his SUV, he went old school and dialed her number, but he had no better luck that way. Was she ignoring him? Busy delivering more flowers? Avoiding everyone with the name Wareham?
He started up his rig and set off down Constellation Way. He'd search the entire town and the rest of the galaxy if need be. But he'd find her. And when he did, he'd tell her that she was the opposite of a disaster. She was a miracle. YouTube be damned.
After she'd dropped off the Venus and Mars Cafe's weekly flower order, Brianna skipped the rest of her scheduled deliveries. Instead she headed to Old Man Turner's. He was the only person she could handle being around right now. Everyone else would want to chat. She didn't want to chat. She wanted to wallow in her broken heart, and she needed peace and quiet to do so. Old Man Turner was just the guy for that.
He'd been acting more and more strange lately. Every time she showed up, he gave her another one of his possessions. Figuring it was all part of the dementia, she’d been putting his gifts in a big cardboard box in his shed. Hopefully she'd find a way to ease them back into his life without his even noticing.
Just a couple days ago, he'd given her the old rose-printed teapot she'd always admired. This was the perfect chance to sneak into the shed and put the teapot in the box.
She saw no sign of the old man when she pulled into her usual parking spot near the garden. As she stepped across the scrubby winter grass, she drew in a long breath of sweet chilly air, feeling the peace that always came over her anywhere near a garden. With the teapot nested under her arm, she stepped to the shed on the far side of the garden.
Quietly, in case Old Man Turner was behind a shrub somewhere and heard the hinges squeak, she eased open the door. And froze in shock.
A man crouched next to the old red toolbox where Turner kept his important papers. He was rifling through them with black-gloved hands. Come to think of it, he was dressed entirely in black. Something lay on the floor next to him. Something black and ominous and…
She must have made a sound, or maybe just breathed a little too hard, because suddenly the man swung around in one smooth motion and pressed a gun to her throat.
Stars danced at the edge of her vision. She let out a shriek. The teapot crashed to the floor of the shed and shattered.
"Who are you? Where's the old man?"
She shook so violently her teeth chattered. "I…I don't know. I haven't seen him. Probably gone to church."
Gone to church? Where had that come from? Turner never attended church, and it wasn't even Sunday.
The man snorted. "Not fucking likely. Never met a Turgenev who was at all religious."
He used Turner's real name. He knew him. The man was in his forties, heavy in the jowls, with a dead-fish look around the eyes.
"I…uh…I can give him a message if you want. Are you a friend of his or…" She trailed off, realizing how ridiculous that sounded.
Another snort. "I'll leave my own message, but thanks."
Apparently figuring she wasn't much of a threat, he lowered the gun and kicked at the toolbox. It fell over, spilling papers out. She saw that he'd used a crowbar to wrench it open. A deep fear rose inside her. This man was strong. And he was after something.
She took a step back, toward the door.
"Don't move," the man said almost casually as he crouched next to the box. "Can't have you calling the cops out here."
"No. No. I wouldn't do that. I was…just going to see if I could find Old Man Turner." Total lie. She didn't want to find him. She hoped he was a hundred miles away from here.
"Don't bother. I searched the whole place. He ain't here and neither is his money."
"Well, he doesn't really have much of that. He's just a farmer, hardly scrapes by."
"Bullshit. He stole it when he left and he's still got it somewhere." He kicked the lockbox again. "Fuck."
"I'll just…leave you to it, then." She took another step back.
Mistake. The man rose to his feet in one fluid motion and swung the gun against her temple.
Bri dropped to the ground. Pain shafted through her skull. He stepped over her, giving her a little kick in the ribs as he went.
She fought to stay conscious…there was something bad about losing consciousness, right? Focus, focus, ow, ow…
Then another sound sent an entirely different fear through her. A lighter. A spark. The quiet lick of a flame claiming its place in the world.
29
Where the hell had Brianna disappeared to? Rollo didn't want to waste another second apart from her. But she was nowhere to be found. Her phone wasn't answering, she wasn't at her little cabin. He called her parents, Evie, Suzanne, Merry…no one knew her plans for the day.
In the middle of his frantic search, his mother called. "What is going on out there? I got a call from Cornelia and could barely believe my ears. Have you gone mad?"
"Nope. I told her the truth. I'm in love with Brianna Gallagher. And you know when I realized it for sure? When I watched that YouTube video from the fashion show. So I guess that backfired, didn't it?"
"You certainly can't blame that on me."
"I can and I do. You knew she'd get nervous up there on stage. You wanted to make sure I didn't fall for her."
"I really don't care who you fall for. That's beside the point. You must know that I will never find her acceptable, Rollington. I will not allow that girl into this family."
"That's your choice. I've made mine." If he could just find her. And convince her that being connected to the Wareham family wouldn't ruin her life.
He realized his mother hadn't responded. "Mother? Are you there?"
"I won't talk about this now, but I'm furious with you, Rollington. Of all times to make trouble. I already have Sidney to deal with." She whooshed out a long breath. "She's becoming impossible. She refuses to attend the new boarding school I found for her. The term started a week ago and I can't get her out of her room. She's sullen and sulky and an embarrassment. Will you talk to her, Rollington? It's the least you could do for us."
"Yeah, of course." With a stab of guilt, he realized he hadn't talked to Sidney since he'd come back to Jupiter Point. He pulled his SUV to the side of the road. While searching for Bri, he'd wound up outside of town on the road that headed toward the inland farming areas. A smudge of smoke rose from the base of one of the hills. He squinted at it, wondering if he should call it in to fire dispatch. It was probably someone running a burn barrel. Even so, he kept an eye on it as Sidney came on the line.
"Hi Rollo."
"Hi sis. Just calling to say 'hi.' I miss you. Everything going okay back there?"
"I miss Jupiter Point." Over the phone, it was hard to tell if her morose tone was darker than usual. "It was mean of you not to let me come back. No one cares about me here. I thought you were on my side, but you're just a Wareham clone like everyone else."
"Sidney, give me a break. You need to be in school."
"Why? So I can set my curtains on fire again? So I can—" She broke off.
"So you can what?" He held his breath. Was she finally going to talk about what had upset her so much at school?
"Nothing. Anyway, Jupiter Point has schools, too. Brianna would have let me come back. But you drove her away."
"Yeah, well, I guess you're right about that."
"What do you mean? What's going on?"
He rested his elbow on the window frame and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't find her anywhere."
"Why are you looking for her?"
To tell her I love her and want her in my life forever. "I need to tell her something."
"I know exactly what you should say. Tell her you aren't a total loser and that you're going to stand up to Mother and pick your own woman. Not the next Cornelia."
"For Chrissake, Sidney. It's a little more complicated than that. Look, I gotta go. Brianna isn't answering her phone. I've calle
d her about twenty times."
"Then she's probably out at Old Man Turner's. There's like no reception out there. I tried to Snapchat when I was working on the fence and couldn't even get a single bar."
"Sidney, that's genius. I'll drive out there right now." He turned the key in the ignition. Then he remembered the original purpose of the call. "So about this school…"
"Just go. Mother's on my ass to get her stupid phone back. Mother! I'll say 'ass' if I want to. Grrr." The line went dead.
Rollo pulled up a mental map of Jupiter Point, trying to remember exactly where Turner's place was located. It was near the Star Bright Shelter; he'd actually donated the land for the place. But his home was about a mile away, and that was where Brianna had been working lately. A mile to the West, near where… His eyes tracked the column of smoke rising into the still morning air.
Where that fire was coming from.
Holy shit.
He floored the accelerator and called fire dispatch. He gave them the approximate location of the smoke, and told Lou, the dispatcher, that he was on his way to check it out in person. "No cell service out there," he explained. "So I'm calling it in now."
"Ten-four. We're on it. Don't do anything crazy, Rollo. Like run into a wildfire after a buddy."
"Who, me? Nah." He hung up, loving the fact that the people of Jupiter Point knew that much about him. The good stuff, not the trust-fund stuff. Maybe they knew that part too. But they didn't treat him any different.
He gunned the engine and flew down the road. He turned onto the turnoff to Old Man Turner's road so fast he left a rooster tail of gravel behind him. Maybe the fire was nothing. Maybe it was nowhere near Turner or Brianna. But the pit in his stomach told him something was wrong.
Someone had turned up the heat. Brianna tried to drag her eyes open to tell whoever was blasting the oven to take it down a notch. It felt like the time she'd fallen asleep in front of the fireplace when she was seven. During the night, wrapped in her favorite Lion King blanket, she'd rolled right up to the edge of the hearth. A stray gust of wind had reignited the coals in the hearth, and she woke up to find herself inches away from becoming cinder. The heat had fanned against her face, making her feel as if she had a sunburn.
Into the Flames (Jupiter Point Book 3) Page 20