by Debbie Mason
He stood silent, a muscle pulsing in his stubbled jaw, as though debating whether to tell her the truth or not.
“What did you want me to do? I watched you take what could have been your last breath. You died right before my eyes, Arianna. I couldn’t save you. Do you know what that feels like, to stand beside someone you care about and know there’s not anything you can do? All I could do was try to reach the woman I remembered. You used to be a fighter. You needed to be that woman then. You need to be her now.”
“I didn’t want to fight. I was ready to die.” And none of them knew why. It was just one more secret she’d take to her grave. A silent shame she’d locked away years before. If Connor knew, he wouldn’t have been there that night begging her to live.
“You didn’t die. Stop acting like you did. You have people who care about you and need you, so instead of hiding away in your bedroom, maybe you should start living again.”
“How dare you judge me! You have no idea what it’s like to lose absolutely everything and be left with this.” She raised her injured arm in the sling, just the tips of her fingers visible in the black compression glove.
He glanced at her hand and then lifted his gaze to hers. “Why did you go back to your office that night? You had to know it was dangerous, that there was a chance you might not make it out alive.”
Everyone asked the same question, and she told them the same lie she told Connor now. “I don’t know why. Maybe I was overcome by the smoke and got disoriented.”
“No. You tied a tourniquet around Serena’s leg and ensured that Jenna would get her out. When she asked where you were going, you told her your office. What was so important that you risked your life?”
“You have no idea what it was like that night. I wasn’t thinking straight, Connor. I was traumatized. Lorenzo kidnapped us, tied us up, then shot Serena and my stepmother. I thought we were going to die.”
In some ways she had been traumatized, but she’d also known exactly what she was doing. Only on another level, she’d told the truth. She hadn’t been thinking straight. She’d let emotions rule her actions and had suffered the consequences, losing even more than she’d thought she would.
“And you would have died if you hadn’t shot him. You and your sisters are alive because of you, Arianna. You were incredibly brave.”
“I wasn’t. Jenna was. If it weren’t for her, none of us would have gotten out alive.”
“Your grandmother might say if it weren’t for Jenna bringing Lorenzo into your lives, none of this would have happened.”
“She didn’t say that to Jenna, did she?”
“I don’t know, though I imagine she does hold Jenna partially to blame. Makes sense, right? She blames her for ruining your parents’ marriage.”
“I know. So does my mother. Did you talk to Jenna about this? Is that why she’s only dropped by a few times?”
“Logan told me. But that’s why I mentioned it. I didn’t want you to think she doesn’t care. She does. It’s just that Helen makes it difficult for her to see you.”
“I don’t know why you’d think it would bother me. Jenna’s busy. I understand…Wait a minute. You were talking about me to Logan? Why? When?”
“Sunday. After I left here. I was worried about you. Can you blame me?”
“Yes. Yes, I can. Because this”—she waved her good hand around the room—“is your fault.”
“How do you figure that? It’s not like I put an announcement in the Gazette. The only people I talked to were my brothers. They wouldn’t say anything to anyone else.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I talked to Mrs. Ranger about you and Helen on the way to the manor. She actually did most of the talking. It’s possible she’s behind this.” He gestured to the containers. “She was going to get in touch with her bridge club and make a schedule. They must have messed up. It was supposed to be one meal a day or something like that.”
“Oh no, we got that schedule too. See, right there on the fridge. That’s the list of meals that will be arriving every day at four p.m. for the next month. The rest of this is courtesy of the Widows Club and the ladies of Immaculate Conception.”
“Swear to God, I never mentioned anything to my grandmother. I’m telling the absolute truth, Arianna. I know how private you are. I wouldn’t do that.”
She sighed. He’d always been open and honest with her in the past. She didn’t see any reason for him to lie to her now. “It was probably Mrs. Ranger. Word must have gotten out when she organized our nightly meals. What on earth were you two talking about that made her think we needed to be fed?”
“Your grandmother telling her you were penniless and would soon be homeless may be partially to blame,” he said, moving to pick up his messenger bag.
“Is there something else you’re not telling me?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re avoiding looking at me. And now I’m sure of it because you just answered a question with a question.”
The smile he gave her faded. “You don’t look like you’re eating. And Mrs.—”
“The pills I had to take made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t eat. But I’m starting to feel better now.” That was true, to a point. In the beginning, the pills had made her sick, but she no longer had to take them. She wasn’t not eating on purpose. It’s just that she slept through most meals, and they hadn’t had a lot of food on hand. “Honestly, don’t people around here have enough to occupy their time?”
“You didn’t let me finish. Mrs. Ranger has some concerns about Helen’s mental health. Have you noticed anything lately? Has your grandmother been confused, repeating herself, behaving erratically?”
“I don’t believe this. They think I’m anorexic and my grandmother has Alzheimer’s.” She tried to keep the panic from her voice. So it wasn’t just her. Other people had noticed her grandmother was losing it too.
“Are you okay? You got pale all of a sudden. Sit down.” He guided her to the table and pulled out a chair. “You want a cup of tea, a glass of juice?”
“Juice, please,” she said as she sat down, noticing a slight tremor in the fingers of her good hand as she carefully pushed the envelopes away. “I can’t believe people are sending us money. Maybe now Glamma will think twice about trying to get the sympathy vote.”
Connor didn’t say anything. He’d taken off his leather jacket and draped it on a chair at the table, placing his messenger bag beside it. His back was to her as he rummaged around in the fridge. Maybe the hum of the refrigerator had drowned out her voice, or perhaps he was just stupefied by his choices of juice. People had dropped off several containers of juice, along with eggs, bacon, and bread. Obviously they’d been put in charge of breakfast.
“I’m not fussy. Any kind is fine,” she said, noting Connor rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s not that. I know you like grape juice. I’m just trying to decide if you meant this to be in here or not.” He turned with a black lace La Perla bra dangling from his finger. It was hers.
It was only because she knew he was seeing it as evidence that either she or her grandmother had lost their marbles that she told him the truth. “I, ah, haven’t been able to put on a bra since the fire. I thought I’d try to this morning. It didn’t go well. I was frustrated and attempted to throw it in the garbage can and missed by a mile, just as Glamma ushered in several firefighters, including your cousin Liam and Marco DiRossi, who were dropping off more containers of food. I scooped up the bra and shoved it in the closet thing to me—the refrigerator.”
“Okay. I didn’t really need to know all the details, but—”
“Yes, you did. You seem to think Glamma and I are losing it.”
“No, I don’t think you are. You’ve—”
“Ah, I see, so I’m fine. It’s just Glamma who you think is crazy. Did you ever stop to think that she might be a little stressed? She’s eighty years old, and she’s taking care of me and running for mayor.”
He
poured her a glass of grape juice as she talked and then walked to the table and placed it in front of her, setting her bra by her arm. “I’m sure she is stressed,” he said as he took a seat.
She grabbed the bra and stuffed it under her bottom. “Stress can make you forgetful.”
“You’re right; it can.”
“Stop being so agreeable. I know what you’re doing. You think if you stay quiet, I’ll just keep talking until I admit Glamma’s been repeating herself and forgetting to pay bills and missing appointments. She’s eighty, Connor. It only stands to reason she would have some minor memory problems.”
“If you think Helen’s fine, then great. There’s nothing to be concerned about. But if you are concerned, you don’t have to deal with it alone. For now, why don’t we take care of the insurance claim? That should help alleviate at least some of yours and Helen’s stress.”
She slumped in the chair. “Can we do it tomorrow? It’s been a long day.”
“I’m afraid we can’t. There’s honestly not a lot left to do. I’ve been working on it with Serena and Jenna for the last couple of days. But something Helen said was bothering me, and I talked about it to Jenna. She said you took out a loan a few weeks before the fire.”
“Yes, I did. I planned to expand. But Glamma had nothing to do with that. I did it on my own.”
“That’s the thing, you didn’t. I called the bank after I talked to Jenna, leaned on the manager a bit, and he admitted that, because Helen held the initial loan on Tie the Knot, he’d asked her to cosign.”
“No. That’s not right. When Glamma gave me the shop, I took over her loan. She’s had nothing to do with Tie the Knot for years.”
“I know, and so did the manager. We’ll get back to that, but right now I need to talk to your grandmother, and I need you to hire me as your attorney.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Helen cosigned the loan using this house as collateral. You’re almost two months behind on your loan payments.”
“That’s why Glamma said we’ll be out on the street by Christmas. They’re going to foreclose.” She pressed her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes.
“Hey, look at me. It’s going to be okay. Once you’ve hired me as your attorney, I’ll go in and demand to see the notifications they say they’ve sent.”
“You don’t think they’ve sent them?”
“No, I’m pretty sure they have and Helen ignored them. The thing is, the manager never should have asked your grandmother to cosign and put up her house as collateral. But because her name is on the loan, my hands are tied. There is a way to get you a couple of extra months’ grace. You’re not going to like it though.”
“You’re going to say Glamma is mentally incompetent.”
“Look, I know this is the last thing you want to do. If it makes it easier, just think of it as a legal strategy to save your home.”
“But you think it’s the truth.”
“I’m sorry. I do.”
“If you’ve been working on the claim, which, I really appreciate, by the way, can’t you get them to give us an advance against the settlement that we can put toward what’s owed on the house?”
“I tried. But they’re pushing back because the claim is being filed almost two months after the fact. There is another option.”
“What?”
“You can let me loan you the money, or you can use the money—”
“No. Thank you, but no. We’re not a charity case. This isn’t our fault. I have insurance for this very reason. And what the bank did is wrong.”
“It is. So hire me. I’ll make them both pay.”
“Where do I sign?” she said, suddenly feeling like she could breathe again.
“For now we’ll just shake on it.”
She went to give him her injured hand, then self-consciously lifted her left. He took it, smiled, and then brought it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for representing Summers in your divorce?”
She tried to come back with a sharp rejoinder to make him laugh, but feeling his warm lips on her skin and seeing his dark head bent over her hand had turned her brain to mush. All she could manage was a small smile and a nod.
An hour later she couldn’t manage a smile or a nod if she tried. They’d made it through fifteen pages of the itemized lists he’d put together with her sisters’ help and had barely put a dent in the pile of papers, so it surprised Arianna when Connor reached behind him for his leather jacket.
He smiled as he stood up and shrugged into his jacket. “If you can get through a good chunk of it tonight, we should be able to put in the claim by Thursday at the latest.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked, wondering if he heard the hint of panic in her voice.
“Yeah. I have to get going, but you’re doing great.”
She wasn’t doing great. She wasn’t doing anywhere close to great. She’d just gotten really good at hiding her feelings. “Why don’t you stay for dinner? There’s lasagna in the fridge. Rosa DiRossi made it,” she quickly added when it looked like he might refuse. Rosa DiRossi made the best Italian food in all of Massachusetts.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could. But Brooklyn’s coming to my place for dinner, and it’s too late to cancel.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, working to keep the disappointment from her voice, maybe a touch of jealousy too. Until she thought about what he said. He was having dinner with Brooklyn. His girlfriend. The girlfriend she’d assumed he’d broken up with. And she’d assumed this because of how he’d been acting with her.
“I really would love to stay. It’s just that—”
“It’s fine.” Arianna grimaced as the words came out of her mouth cold and clipped. She didn’t mean for her anger to be so clearly evident. She pushed back her chair and got to her feet, not looking at him as she led the way to the front door. “Thank you for your help today.”
Chapter Five
Curled up in a chair in the dark living room, Arianna startled awake. She must have fallen asleep not long after Connor left. The movement caused the papers to fall from her lap onto the hardwood floor.
It wasn’t a nightmare that awakened her. She’d been dreaming about Connor, a hazy montage from their past. Images of them lying in the sand at Kismet Cove, holding hands, dancing in the rain, kissing under the stars, making love at Starlight Pointe. They’d been as young and perfect as their love. Nothing between them, no secrets, no hurtful words.
She straightened in the chair, grateful for whatever had pulled her from the dream. They’d had their chance; she’d ruined it.
As she leaned over to scoop up the papers from the floor, the copy of the loan agreement caught her eye. She hadn’t been sure she would get the loan to expand Tie the Knot and had been thrilled when the manager had called to say he’d found a way to approve it. She’d been so relieved that she hadn’t thought to question what strings he’d had to pull to make it happen. He’d been called away on the day she’d gone to the bank to sign. She couldn’t recall seeing the cosignature line; his assistant certainly hadn’t pointed it out. There definitely hadn’t been a signature at the time—that she would have noticed. Now there was, right below her name.
Once again anger welled up inside her at the manager for taking advantage of her grandmother even if he’d done so to help Arianna. Her anger was quickly followed by gratitude that Connor had taken it upon himself to insert himself into her problems and her life. Not that she’d tell him. If she gave Mr. Fixer an inch, she had no doubt he’d take a mile.
She sat back in the chair, thinking about earlier. He’d had no idea how big a deal it was that she’d asked him to stay for dinner tonight. These days, she didn’t eat in front of anyone, including her grandmother. Eating with her left hand was an art Arianna had yet to master. She still couldn’t believe that she’d asked him. Clearly, embarrassment over her ability to handle a fork and spoon with all the finesse of a toddler was preferable
to facing the inventory of what she’d lost alone.
It was probably for the best his girlfriend was going to his place for dinner. Although that’s not how Arianna had felt upon learning the news. Even as he’d kissed her palm, held her in his arms, looked at her in that special way he used to, he had a girlfriend waiting in the wings. As the daughter of an unfaithful man and the wife of an unfaithful husband, she found that unforgivable.
No doubt Connor had left her place wondering what was wrong with her. One minute she’d been warm and friendly, and the next, a snippy woman who’d shown him the door. Maybe he wasn’t wondering at all. She’d done it to him before, after all. The day she’d ended their two-year teenage love affair.
Arianna gave her head a small shake. The past was in the past. She and Connor had no future. He was her lawyer now. Nothing more, nothing less. She returned the thick sheaf of papers to the side table, calculating the hours that he must have spent on the insurance claim. He hadn’t done all this work because he thought of her as a client. He’d done it because he cared. She owed him an apology.
Maybe she could do him a favor and show him the error of his ways. He may not know how easily a kiss on the hand or holding someone in your arms could be misconstrued, especially by a woman who hadn’t known a man’s tender touch in years. Connor had been a charming teenager. Now he was a lethally charming man.
She thought about how awkward the conversation would be and decided she’d pretend nothing had happened. She’d make it up to him in other ways. All he’d asked when he’d left was for her to look over a few more pages by tomorrow. She’d finish them tonight, as much for him as for herself.
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d pulled an all-nighter. She used to do it on a weekly basis at Tie the Knot. Her stomach took a perilous dip at the thought, threatening to pull her into the quicksand of depressing emotions. She’d barely pulled herself out. She couldn’t afford to get swallowed up by her anger and grief. At least not until the insurance claim was settled and Glamma’s house saved.