by Megan Ryder
Something Old
A Lone Star Match Romance
Megan Ryder
Something Old
Copyright © 2017 Megan Ryder
The Tule Publishing Group, LLC
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-946772-04-6
Keep Up with your Favorite Authors and their New Releases
For the latest news from Tule Publishing authors, sign up for our newsletter here or check out our website at TulePublishing.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Lone Star Match series
More by Megan Ryder
About the Author
Chapter One
For the last five years, three months, and two days there had been one bright and shining benefit to Delaney Winters’ father’s arrest for a Ponzi scheme. Being an outcast from the upper crust society she was born into had limited the number of invitations she’d received to almost nil.
Except for this one.
You’re invited!
Caroline and Matthew are finally getting married!
Please join the happy couple for a week on Whitby Island prior to the wedding for fun, sun, and the reunion of old friends.
Current partners may arrive for the rehearsal dinner.
On the bulletin board next to her desk in her small office in the bowels of the Elizabeth Stanley Museum of Art, Delaney could read the silver script flowing across the parchment, sitting in the ornately decorated bridesmaid’s survival box that included a schedule of wedding events for the guests, wedding favors, and a map of the island. Delaney didn’t need the map, having spent many summers there, but the itinerary was a problem, not to mention the guest list. Ever since Caroline had showed up out of the blue and asked Delaney to be her maid of honor, Delaney had been scrambling for a way out to avoid the embarrassment of seeing her former friends and reliving the shame of her past. But Caroline was like a tennis pro, calmly refuting every excuse with another volley.
Delaney had always sucked at tennis.
Now, with exactly one week to go, she was out of excuses, out of time, and out of her mind to consider attending. Not that she could cry off now. It was far too late for that. If it was only the rehearsal dinner and wedding, she’d survive, easy peasy. But no, it was a whole week of fun, sun, and a reunion of people who had once been her closest friends, people she had pushed away and avoided for five years. People who probably resented the hell out of her for her actions.
Delaney refocused her attention from the past back to the present and studied the bride perched calmly in the chair facing her desk, hands folded in her lap studying Delaney with a cool arch of her perfectly manicured eyebrow.
“I like what you’ve done with your office.”
Delaney followed her gaze around the small basement office, her cage for the past few years. It was small and tight, almost claustrophobic, but it was also comforting down here, out of the way of the regular museum patrons and workers. It was just enough room for her position as manager of the docents, a thankless job really, but critical to the running of the museum tours. No one cared about the docents, unless they didn’t show up for their tours on time. Otherwise, she was forgotten. And that was perfect for her. A perfect hiding place. So what if she felt trapped sometimes, as if the walls and her life were closing in on her and the world was moving on without her, leaving her behind.
It was better than the alternative.
She only smiled, the same fake mask she had been wearing for five years. “Caroline, why are you here? I’m going to see you in less than a week.” Along with everyone else from her past.
“I know. I just wanted to check in.” Caroline’s hands twisted on her lap, tangling themselves in the strap of her Louis Vuitton handbag. “You did remember to take the week off, right?”
“Of course. How could I forget when you’re getting married?” Her cheeks were starting to hurt from the strain of the smile.
“Good. I know you’re worried about seeing everybody next Saturday. I really appreciate you standing by me and being my maid of honor.”
Delaney almost laughed. It was the other way around, and Caroline damn well knew it. Delaney was the charity case, nothing else. If Delaney hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought Caroline asked her to be her maid of honor as a cruel joke. But, dammit, she just didn’t have it in her. Caroline could never truly be a nasty society bitch. Delaney should know. She wrote the manual.
The moment deserved a joke. “I haven’t done anything yet, Caroline. Who knows? I may not even show up next week.”
Caroline smiled, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Yes, I know that’s tempting for you, so I decided to come and see you today, to make sure our plans are all set for next week.” Caroline reached into her bag, pulled out a large envelope and handed it to Delaney. “Here’s the bridal party’s schedule for the week, starting on Sunday. I also included a ticket for transportation to the island. And don’t worry, I know how afraid you are of the ferry. I chartered you a plane to the small airfield on the island.”
Delaney opened the envelope then stopped as the ticket slid out. “Thank you. But, honestly, I don’t need it. I can get myself to the island. And I was only joking before.”
Caroline leaned forward and laid a hand on Delaney’s arm. “I know, Delaney. Considering I asked everyone out there a week ahead of time, this is my bride’s gift to each of you. And your attendance is your gift to me. It’s nonnegotiable.” A hint of steel threaded its way through Caroline’s words, reminding Delaney that while Caroline was a sweet person, she always got her way. Maybe that was what made her such a great fund-raiser.
Delaney withdrew the folder from the envelope and opened it, riffling through the papers. “Caroline, what did you do? This is more than just a ticket ride.”
“I’m so glad you asked.” Caroline stood and began pacing the small office, her hands making excited gestures. “It’s been five years, Delaney. Five years since we’ve all been together. I miss those days. Oh, not going back to college, but the friendship. Our time ended badly, not anybody’s fault, but it ended. We all swore we’d stay friends, but we didn’t. As the bride, I’m allowed a little latitude. And we also know, what the bride wants, the bride gets. And I want my friends together for one last vacation before my wedding. All of my friends.”
A chill ran up Delaney’s back that had nothing to do with the frigid air conditioner in the office. “All of your friends?” If Caroline had noticed the mouse-like pitch to
her voice, she didn’t show it or was too polite to comment.
“Yes, Delaney, all of my friends. You, Anna Maria, and Bridget. The old crew. Who did you think I meant?” Caroline cocked a perfectly manicured eyebrow at Delaney. Perfectly innocent look; although, Delaney could swear she saw a hint of mischief in Caroline’s eyes.
“Just the girls?”
This time, Caroline’s gaze shifted away to study the very uninspiring beige ceiling. The tiny chill that had worked up her back now spread into a full body grip of fear. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. She cleared her throat and tried again.
“Is Ethan coming?”
Caroline met her gaze evenly. “Yes.”
Delaney sagged against the desk, the shock surprising her, even though she’d expected the answer.
Ethan Van Owen.
Her former fiancé.
The man she’d driven away after her father’s scandalous arrest and sudden death.
She’d always been close to her father, so his death had broken her heart. Ending her engagement to Ethan had destroyed her. The scene had been ugly. He insisted on protecting her, offering his name, his family, his money to her and her family, or what remained of her family. She was so tempted. It would have been so easy to let him take care of everything. But the impact on him and his family’s investment business would have destroyed him. Her life had been irrevocably changed, but his didn’t need to be.
So, she had let him go, driven him away, really. Not that it mattered. He’d left Houston shortly after the broken engagement and she hadn’t seen him since.
Until next week.
Thoughts of Ethan twisted in her gut, conflicting emotions and fears. Did he still hate her? Was he with someone else? The last thought stabbed her in the heart. It had been five years, but she had never forgotten him. Now she had a chance to make things right, to apologize and hopefully get his forgiveness. Then she could move on with her life. She only hoped she could hold back her emotions. They were in the past and no good could come of a renewed romance between them.
Tell her hormones that. They kicked into overdrive at the thought of spending a week in a beautiful island getaway with the one man who could make her blood sizzle with just a look.
Caroline studied Delaney with a shrewd gaze, seeming to miss nothing. But Caroline didn’t say anything, leaving Delaney in her own maelstrom of emotion.
Caroline bent down to pick up her bag. “Now, I’ll see you Sunday. Oh, by the way, we didn’t get a chance to have a bachelorette party. I thought we could do something fun one night on the island. Would you think about it? Look at the itinerary and talk to the other girls. Their contact information is in the packet.” Caroline laughed. “I’ve missed you so much.” Impulsively, she hugged Delaney. “Now, make sure you’re ready for this. Don’t make me turn into Bridezilla.”
Delaney swallowed, trying to make words come out. Finally, she croaked, “You could never be Bridezilla. It’s not in you.”
After one last hug, Caroline headed for the door. Before leaving, she paused, turned and looked at Delaney, her expression sober. “Delaney, I know how hard this is going to be. You mean a lot to me. And not just because we’ve been friends since elementary school. You’re almost like a sister to me, and it really hurt when you cut me out of your life. It’s important to me that you’re by my side at my wedding. I’m hoping we can rekindle our closeness.”
And she swept out of the room, leaving a firestorm of guilt and regret in her wake. Delaney buried her head in her hands, remembering a different time, when she’d said goodbye to Caroline, Ethan, and her friends. It was five years later and the feelings were the same–an empty, gaping wound in her stomach. She reached for the antacids.
Dammit. Why couldn’t Caroline have left her alone?
Delaney sank into her chair and opened the folder that Caroline had given her. What bride had time to coordinate events for her bridesmaids? What bride planned a college reunion the week of her wedding? Of course, what bride chose a disgraced ex-friend as a maid of honor? Same answer to all three – Caroline Masters, a woman who gave new meaning to the word stubborn.
Delaney began leafing through the events for the week. Mani-Pedi. Bridesmaids’ dinner. Dress fittings. All pretty standard fare. She glanced down at her nails, smooth and rounded, but having not seen a manicurist in years. A little luxury she had not been able to afford in a long time. God, it would feel so great to have a mani-pedi.
Her dreams were so small, it made her sad.
A few events piqued her interest. A scavenger hunt? A bonfire? What the hell kind of events were they for a pre-wedding reunion? Well at least she knew how to dress this time. Not that she had a lot of clothes to choose from. Her closet was positively anemic without her steady diet of shopping.
She started at the sudden knock on the door. One of the docents, Natalie, stood at the door. Natalie was one of the first friends Delaney had made at the museum. One of the few docents, of all the staff really, who took her reduced circumstances in stride. Natalie didn’t care if she had once been one of the rich bitches wandering around the events the museum held. Didn’t mind that she once served Delaney wine and hors d’oeuvres. No, Natalie was indefatigably cheerful and welcoming to all people. A motherly figure, Natalie adopted Delaney almost as a granddaughter, giving Delaney the family support she had lost since her father’s death and her mother’s breakdown after the fall. Natalie knew the whole story of the wedding, and she’d get a laugh out of the latest turn of events.
Delaney waved her toward the chair. Natalie bit her lower lip, and glanced over at the clock. “Did he call yet?”
Delaney shook her head, pressing her lips together and trying to maintain a calm façade. “He still has thirty minutes. Not that he’s ever on time.”
Natalie glanced down and away, still tugging on her lower lip. Delaney waited, expecting Natalie to say something.
When she didn’t, Delaney’s stomach lurched and bile rose in her throat. “What have you heard? Please tell me before I hear from Benson.”
At that moment, the phone rang and both women jumped. Their eyes darted to the phone and then met each other’s gaze. Dread gathered in Delaney’s stomach, rolling low in her gut. Thank goodness she hadn’t had breakfast that morning or drank that second cup of coffee.
She picked up the phone. “Delaney Winters.”
“Winters. My office. Now. I have a luncheon appointment in ten minutes.” Benson’s voice shot out of the phone like a cannon. He always had the ability to make her, and every other employee, nervous.
Before she could reply, he hung up, the dial tone echoing in her ear.
When she stood, her knees wobbled a little. She smoothed her hands down her skirt and adjusted her suit jacket. “It’s time.”
Natalie stepped around the desk, enveloping Delaney in a bear hug of support. “Go get them, darling.”
Delaney paused, remembering the beginning of the conversation. “Natalie, you never told me what news you had?”
Natalie shook her head, still refusing to meet Delaney’s eyes. “It’s nothing. Just rumor. You’re the best candidate; you’ve been doing the job for six months. Benson would be crazy not to hire you for the vice president role of learning.”
“We’ve heard that before.” Delaney laughed, the sound shaky to her own ears. She took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”
She walked down the hall closer to the lobby. Benson was the museum curator and the head of all the museum staff. His office was right off the lobby with beautiful windowed views of the front and the gardens. Before the fall, she often sat in that office while working with her mother directing museum activities. It was one of her family’s charitable endeavors. She always thought that, if she had an office in the museum, it would be close to his, as a trustee, as a benefactor, not as a common employee relegated to the bowels, hidden and forgotten.
Her new office suited her now, suited her new life, away from all the prying eyes, th
e whispering voices, the pointing fingers. She was making a difference in the actual running of the museum, something she had always wanted to do. It just wasn’t the way she had expected.
Delaney rapped on Benson’s office door and he gestured her to a seat. “Close the door, Winters.”
Benson stood looking out over the gardens, his back to her. She slipped into one of the chairs, crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap as her mother had taught her all those years ago. She waited patiently, scarcely breathing, while Benson continued staring at the garden, his hands twisting in the folds of his dress slacks, shoulders tense. A twinge of alarm niggled the back of her head, and she clenched her hands in her lap, vainly trying to remain still and outwardly calm. Doubt and fear pumped through her veins, a dull roaring of blood rushing in her ears, the longer the seconds then minutes ticked by with no comment from her boss.
Finally, he faced her and heaved a sigh. He sat on the wooden file cabinet that buttressed against the window. He looked up at her and sighed again.
Her heart plummeted. “I didn’t get the job.”
He shook his head. “No. While you were an excellent candidate, the trustees had some concerns about your qualifications.”
She suppressed a flash of anger, the instant reaction to retaliation by her former friends. “What was their concern?”
He stepped away from the file cabinet and sat on his desk chair. “They were concerned that you didn’t have enough experience or education to run the educational programs here at the museum. They’re very protective of our programs, as you are well aware.”
She clenched her fists in her lap, willing herself to remain calm. After a moment, when she was confident her voice would not shake, she asked, “What additional qualifications would I need for this position?”
He pursed his lips and shuffled a few papers around averting his gaze. A common reaction on this day, she noticed. “Delaney, why did you want this role? What is your five-year plan? When you started here, it was a stop-gap measure, a way to help your family. Is this what you really want to do with your life?”