Jill shook her head. “That’s so nice of you. I’m not exactly rolling in dough lately.”
“It’s fine. We have a slush fund for special emergencies. Someday, you will, too, at Erospace Designs.”
“Thank you for believing in me.” Jill smiled, but it quickly faded. “I’m so scared.”
“I know,” Greer said. “I’ll be with you on the plane. Before we go, we’ll practice my technique for making it through each flight without totally losing it, okay?”
Jill nodded and gulped. “I’m more scared of seeing him than going on the plane.”
“I’ll be with you almost every step of the way. But one thing I’ve learned as a matchmaker is, the last step is up to you and your man. I can only take you so far. We’ve been trying hard here to get Wesley and Serena back together, but at some point, only they can help themselves. Wesley thinks he’s jinxed. And Serena, well, she’s not interested in being with a guy who got such cold feet that he came on to his ex-girlfriend.”
“I can’t blame her,” said Jill.
“Nor can I,” said Greer. “But everyone is flawed. Every couple has problems. You just have to decide—the both of you—whether the love between you is strong enough to weather the storms.”
“I don’t want to be a quitter before I even try,” Jill said, sounding extremely doubtful. “In love or in business.”
“Come here.” Greer took her to the window and pointed out at the small glimpse of East Bay Street they had from Two Love Lane’s cobblestoned alley. “Look,” she said. “There’s a possible Erospace client in one of those mansions.”
“I hope so.” A faint, sad smile curved Jill’s lips.
“By flying to New York—not driving,” Greer said, “you’ll be taking your romantic destiny into your own hands. We’ll think about Erospace when you get back.”
Greer let the curtain fall back in place.
“I feel more hope about Erospace already,” Jill said. “I-I can’t believe I told you I might quit.”
Greer could see in the way she held herself straighter that Jill was serious. She walked her to the front door, they hugged tightly, she reminded Jill to pack, and she came back to her desk feeling hopeful for her friend.
Meanwhile, every day she had to face the truth that she’d tried to take her destiny into her own hands, and it hadn’t worked out. She’d told Ford she loved him, but he’d left her. It was a hard place to be. So hard.
But is it truly over? a voice inside her said.
What she needed to do was talk to her parents and find out how to face a reality that didn’t include true love. But how to go about it? How to admit to them that she knew something was wrong between them? Every day of her childhood she’d wondered what was missing in their home.…
She sat for a minute, sighed, closed her eyes. And remembered she had Charleston to support her. This city. It had given her so much. Her best friends. It had given her beauty. It had taught her that strength can come, can rise up amid the broken, the frightened, and the forgotten. Charleston had shown her that love can and does conquer all.
She could do this.
She picked up her phone. Dialed. “Mom?” she said, and started to cry.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ford had never felt this way before. Free. He woke up at night wondering if the feeling would go away, but then something inside him that was calm and big asserted itself and the petty fear withdrew. He saw Rupert again, and this time his brother was more responsive to him. Perhaps it was because Ford told him he hated his addictions, but loved him and would forever. They’d even gone out to lunch, and Rupert had hugged him when he’d left. He didn’t ask for money, either.
Ford also told Teddy, who was doing well in hospital, enjoying visits from a myriad friends now that she was settled in, that he’d support her as a friend, no matter what. He said there was no way they’d be getting back together and for her to inform her parents of that fact. He told her that his attorney was drawing up papers for joint custody of whichever child was his—if either was—and that he was prepared to be a father but not her husband or lover, ever again.
“I like this new Ford,” she said quietly. “You’re brighter somehow, as if something has been lifted and you can see your way. If either one or both of these children are yours, I’ll be proud to tell them you’re their dad.”
It was the nicest day they’d had in years, that day. He realized they could co-parent well, if they had to. And some of the pressure of that concern was lessened.
The portrait Ford had swiftly painted of Greer looked nothing like the one he’d painted in Charleston. The new one, he’d been told by Anne and the gallery owner in Manchester, was brilliant.
“It will headline the show,” the Manchester gallery owner said. “And it will wind up at the Tate Modern. Mark my words.”
“Bloody genius,” Anne had said.
The odd thing was that Ford knew it was, too, and felt no sense of ego about it. He didn’t even feel responsible for it. He’d merely been the instrument by which the portrait came into being. No longer were his brushstrokes carefully constructed to tell the story he wanted to tell. Now they reflected truth, and truth only. Greer’s portrait was a blur of color coming together with a powerful energy that revealed her essence, which he couldn’t even put into words. All he knew was that he loved her.
He couldn’t wait for her to see the new painting—it wasn’t going to the Manchester show, after all, much to Anne’s surprise and the gallery owner’s chagrin. He was taking it to Charleston. He’d cleared a way back to Greer, back to a place he’d come to love, and it hadn’t been easy. But it had been vastly rewarding. More than ever, he was glad for his siblings. They had a chance for a new closeness that he hadn’t realized he’d been craving. That morning he and Anne had gone together to pick up Rupert and take him out for a coffee. Rupert smelled of stale beer, but he was sober, or very nearly so. Ford explained to him why he was going back to the United States. Anne already knew.
“You’re not telling her you’re coming?” Rupert had asked him.
“No. I’m afraid she’ll think of reasons not to see me. All valid. I want to be there when they occur to her so I can state my piece.”
“What if she shows you the door?”
“It’s a risk I have to take,” Ford said. “The payoff if she agrees to give me another chance is greater than any fear I have that I’ll fail.” He noticed Rupert was genuinely listening. And when they dropped him off at his flat, he leaned in the car window and said, “Best of luck,” the way a brother should, and reached in to shake Ford’s hand.
When they drove away, Anne had tears in her eyes. Ford did, too. He reached across the seat and took her hand.
“We’ll have to keep this up,” he said.
“What if you aren’t here to do that?” Anne said. “What if you stay in America?” She blew her nose on a tissue from her bag. “Sorry I’m so weepy.”
He gripped the wheel. “We’ll find a way,” he said. “Planes exist for a reason. I’m financially solvent. I could fly here every month and stay for a week.” He laughed. “You’re being awfully optimistic about my chances to win Greer back.”
She gave a shuddery laugh. “Oh, I know you. You’ll win her over. And not by being a phony. You’re a genuinely good guy, and don’t forget it.”
When his plane took off from Gatwick, he felt ready to take on the challenge and joy of loving someone. But would Greer accept him? That was the question.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Greer was at Jill’s apartment on Society Street helping her decide what to wear when she saw her business mogul ex-lover in New York.
“This one or this one?” Jill held up a black polka-dotted dress and a red floral A-line skirt and peasant blouse.
“I think you should wear whatever makes you feel most confident,” said Greer.
Jill stared long and hard at her closet. “Then it’ll be this.” She pulled out a pair of soft cotton trous
ers with a wide black-and-white pinstripe. She paired them with a fitted gray tank top, black lace-up sandals, a wide-brim black felt hat, an oversized gray handbag, and super-chic sunglasses.
“This is my late grandfather’s hat,” she said. “He wore it in Sicily. It’ll give me courage.”
“You’ll look amazing in that.” And it was true. Greer was getting so excited. “Let’s go over my rules for getting through a flight without losing it. It works for me every time.”
Jill sat next to her on the bed. “Okay,” she said tentatively.
Greer had just finished advising her, and they were rolling Jill’s two bags out of the apartment, when a red Corvette with a dent on the side pulled up at the curb.
“That’s Aunt Rosaria’s car!” Jill said, shutting her apartment door behind her. They kept rolling. “I wonder why she’s here? She’s usually at work.”
“It’s lunchtime. Maybe she left for a little while and has come by to say hello.” Greer searched down the street for their cab, which should arrive any second.
“I don’t know,” Jill murmured. “She’s never done this.”
“Do you want to go back inside?”
Jill shook her head. “Let’s see what she says first.” And then she gasped.
Greer’s heart started racing. “What?”
But before Jill could answer, Aunt Rosaria walked up the sidewalk to them.
“Jilly?” Aunt Rosaria said. “You make bedrooms for sex. It’s not what your nonnas expected you to do, a good girl like you.”
“I know, Aunt Rosaria,” Jill said.
“We hear you are losing money,” Aunt Rosaria said.
“How?” Jill’s face paled. “I’ve never told a soul I was. Except for Greer.”
Aunt Rosaria waved at Greer. “We have our ways.” Greer didn’t say a word. “Okay, you left your checkbook on the kitchen table, and your nonnas grabbed it and looked.”
“They did?”
Uh-oh! Greer glanced at Jill, who was pale. Her hands gripped the handle of her luggage tight.
“Yes, they did,” Aunt Rosaria said, “and they have decided they want to be your silent partners. I want to be one, too.”
Jill bit her lip. Her face was scarlet. “I couldn’t ask that of them or you, Aunt Rosaria.”
Aunt Rosaria nodded so vigorously that Greer thought she’d shake her head off. “Yes, you can.”
“No,” said Jill. “It’s so sweet of you all. But I need partners who believe in my mission.”
Aunt Rosaria drew herself up tall. “We do. Jilly, you must make my living space my loving space. I ask you with no shame. Woman to woman.”
“Oh.” Jill gave a short, surprised laugh, her cheeks flushed. “You mean for you and Uncle Phillip?”
“Yes, Jilly,” Aunt Rosaria said, leveling a look at her niece, who dropped her eyes to the pavement.
“It would be my great honor, Aunt Rosaria,” Jill said quietly.
“Hmm.” There was an agonized silence. Then Aunt Rosaria spoke. “I want my bedroom painted gold. With a beautiful canopy bed that has draping red velvet curtains.”
“With gold tassels on the corners,” Jill exclaimed, then started to cry.
Aunt Rosaria took her face in her palms. “We believe in you. Your nonnas like your spunk. They always knew you were an artist inside. As did we all.” Her smile was tender. “Your late father’s tremendously talented daughter has found her calling, and he would be very proud to see you embrace it.”
Jill swiped away a tear, and then she flung her arms about her aunt’s neck. “Thank you. And I’m so glad you and Uncle Phillip are still interested in romance.”
Aunt Rosaria laughed. “Of course we are, snookums. And soon all our friends will be calling you, too. Wherever you going with that luggage, have fun! And remember you’re a Mancini and a Romano. You tell yourself that whenever you need courage, bella.”
“I will, Aunt Rosaria!” Jill called to her, and waved like a little kid.
When they finally got in the cab, happiness and relief were written all over Jill’s face. “I don’t have to hide anymore. I never did. I’m a Mancini and a Romano. I forgot how powerful that combination is.”
“This is your time,” Greer said, hugging her friend hard.
“I’ve got goose bumps,” Jill said, holding out her arm.
Greer had them, too. “Hey, can I call your sister? Prep her a bit for what you’re about to do? And then put you on the phone to finish up with her? Don’t you want her to be rooting for you?”
Jill looked at the ceiling of the cab and bit her lip, then back at Greer. “Okay,” she said. “She’ll be shocked.”
“And she’ll also be proud,” Greer said.
Jill wiped at her eye. “She will, won’t she?”
“Can we also let Miss Thing and Macy in on it?”
Jill nodded.
Greer got the ball rolling, very diplomatically but also with faith that she’d be given the benefit of the doubt for keeping Jill’s secret, and handed the phone off. By the time Jill had finished talking to Ella, she’d said, “Heck, tell Momma, too. And the nonnas. And the sisters. I want everyone’s good vibes. Love you!”
On Interstate 26, right before the airport, Greer received a text from Ella: Thank you for helping my sister, was all it said, with three heart emojis. She couldn’t help smiling to herself. All was well. Her colleagues—her best friends—were the best.
An hour and a half later, she and Jill were in their seats in coach on a Delta flight to JFK. Jill had done beautifully with Greer’s instructions. Greer had told her that every time she walked onto an airplane, she looked left into the cockpit and silently urged the pilot to fly them safely to their destination. And if the pilot wasn’t there, she then had to look at the flight attendant and say, “Please tell the pilot I wish him or her a very pleasant trip.” And if the flight attendant wasn’t available, she had to stop at Row 2 in first class and say hello to whomever was sitting in the right aisle seat. Once, she told Jill, it had been Sylvester Stallone.
“It works, my method,” she reminded Jill at the last minute when they were walking down the ramp to board the plane, and Jill started humming too loud, so loudly that her fellow passengers looked at her strangely. “I’ve never been in a plane crash. And you know seeing Sylvester Stallone in the second row that one time proves it’s effective. He’d never let a plane go down. Everyone knows that.”
“Right,” said Jill, her lips white.
“Don’t forget you’re a Mancini and a Romano,” Greer added.
That last bit seemed to do the trick way more than Greer’s OCD crash-avoidance strategy. Jill cried only during take-off and when the wing flaps came up and the wheels came down right before landing at JFK Airport. By the time the wheels hit the ground, she was fine.
“I think I can do this,” she said. “Usually, they have to knock me out.”
“The more you do it, the better you get,” Greer said. “And it helps, too, if you travel with someone who’s scared to fly. Like I wasn’t afraid even once, because I was worried you’d be.”
Jill brightened. “Then that means I’ll be fine a lot,” she said. “My nonnas hate flying. I’ll take them with me wherever I go. And when I teach them how to not be afraid, I’ll bring Momma. She hates flying, too. I have a whole list of people I can take with me.”
“And you can help them all get better,” Greer said. “By the time you’re finished with your list, you won’t need anyone with you at all. You’ll be awesome.”
The rest of their day was filled with spa and beauty appointments in Manhattan. Jill had decided to go after her man the following morning and tell him she loved him. The day dawned bright and sunny, and after a small breakfast which Jill only picked at, Greer walked her nervous friend into the Jacob Javits Convention Center. She would leave her outside the room where a conference lecture was streaming live. Her business mogul was in there. He was sitting on a panel, so if Jill interrupted, at least th
e whole presentation wouldn’t fall apart. He could excuse himself for a moment.
And if he got angry at Jill’s interruption, that was Jill’s answer: She wasn’t really the woman he loved.
Jill put her hand to her mouth. “Oh! I hear him!”
Greer laid a hand on her arm. “Just speak from your heart.”
Jill nodded. “You’ll be watching on livestream?”
“Yes. I’ll do it right from here. Give me a minute to get my laptop set up.”
So Jill waited. She was practically quivering. Greer worked as fast as she could. Thirty seconds later, her screen was bright, and she was linked to the workshop inside.
“Oh, my gosh,” said Jill, almost crying when she looked at the screen. “There he is! What a hunk!”
Greer smiled. He looked like a very brainy nerd to her in his jeans and with the pocket protector in his white button-down shirt and freshly parted, wet hair. But he was adorable in his own way. There was a soul mate for everyone. Jill’s just also happened to be a billionaire.
“You look fabulous,” Greer reminded her.
“I’m ready,” Jill said, her voice firm again.
“Good luck,” Greer said. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” the youngest Mancini sister said, and then with one last look over her shoulder at Greer, she opened the door to the room and was gone.
* * *
Another door opened at the same time in Charleston, South Carolina.
“Sorry,” Miss Thing said at the fourteen-foot-high entryway of Two Love Lane. “She’s in New York. She’s with a client.”
Ford had gone straight to Two Love Lane from the airport. “And she’ll be back when?” He tried not to be agitated.
“Tomorrow night.” Miss Thing smiled. “Come in and have some tea, hon. I have cookies, too. Almond poppyseed thumbprint with raspberry jam.”
“Thanks for the kind offer,” he said, “but I’ve got to get to New York.” He pulled out his phone to call a cab but hesitated. “I mean it,” he added. “I appreciate your not slamming the door in my face.”
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