Sophie’s head went up from her pillow. She looked at Marisa. “I saw it.”
Marisa smiled kindly, reminding Sophie of her own mother. Marisa tucked a strand of hair back behind Sophie’s ear. “Under the water? What did you see?”
“Well, I saw a whale, but that’s not what I mean. I saw his shoulder.”
“His—” Marisa’s hand flew to her mouth, and understanding dawned in her eyes. “The burn.”
“From the reunion. The campfire. Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He asked me not to. He … asked everybody not to.”
“Everybody knows?” Tears suddenly stung Sophie’s eyes. “Well, of course they would.”
“I’m sorry,” Marisa said. “It was his call, his choice. I’m so sorry.”
Sophie lay back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. “How could I have been so stupid?”
“Stupid? Hardly. He put a lot of effort into that disguise. His own mother didn’t recognize him at first.”
“His mother? Oh no.” Sophie groaned. “She must think I’m an idiot.”
“No, she thinks he’s an idiot. Dark contacts—”
“He wore dark contacts? Yes, of course. I would have known him if his eyes were still hazel.”
“I know, the difference is crazy,” Marisa agreed. “And the hair dye. Tanning to even out the color in his face after he chopped off that stupid beard.”
“And his voice? I kept thinking he sounded like Gregory Peck.”
Marisa chuckled. “That was his intent. In high school, he had to read To Kill a Mockingbird for school, so Aunt Kay made him watch the movie, too. I got roped into watching it, and Jamie had to be a smart aleck and spent the whole movie mimicking Atticus Finch. He was pretty good at it, too. Later, when his business started taking off when he was only twenty-four, he used his Gregory Peck voice to make himself sound more experienced with investors. It worked.”
“It worked on me, that’s for sure. I can’t believe he went to all that effort to trick me. Why didn’t he just tell me?”
Marisa let go of Sophie’s hand and sat down in a nearby chair. “I can’t answer that, Sophie. That’s a question for Jamie. He may not deserve it,—he really deserves a good thrashing—but it’s his place to explain, not mine.”
Sophie slept for most of the next day. Cathy and Roger had been by to see her, and Peter. He didn’t know she knew; Marisa had agreed to let Sophie confront him in her own way when she was ready. She could see the worry on Marisa’s face, but Sophie didn’t assure her that everything would be okay. She didn’t know that herself yet.
She talked a little, but mostly she slept. Her concussion was slight, and the doctors let her go home by Sunday evening. Back at the lodge she slept through her headache, but when her alarm went off at 3 a.m. Monday morning, she dragged herself out of bed and headed for the bakery.
Cathy was there with Ellie and Marcy. Sophie retold her story, but other than that did little talking. Recovering from hypothermia and a concussion tired her out quickly. When Reva stopped in at eight to pick up the lodge bread, Sophie sat down in a booth beside her to take a rest.
“I can’t believe you fell in,” Reva said. “I mean, whales are cool, but you could have died.”
“I really couldn’t help it,” Sophie said. “But that wasn’t the weirdest thing that happened out there.”
“What do you mean?”
Cathy slid into the booth just then to join them. “Yes, what could be weirder than falling off a boat and getting hypothermia?”
“I mean … I figured it out.” Sophie rubbed her tired eyes. She definitely still had a headache.
“Figured what out?” Cathy asked.
“Jamie, Peter. You both knew, didn’t you?”
Reva slumped back in the booth. “Sorry, sweets.”
Cathy reached out and touched Sophie’s arm. “I’m sorry. You must be feeling so hurt.”
“I just don’t understand. Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
“You haven’t talked to Jamie about it yet?” Cathy asked.
“No. I’m not sure what to say. Or really how I feel. It’s so confusing.”
Cathy looked at Reva.
“Go for it,” the younger woman said.
“Sophie, maybe I can help you understand parts of it,” Cathy began. “Jamie’s around Sitka a lot. He has been on and off for some time. It’s like his safe place. He comes here, usually when he’s angry at the world. Gets all scraggly, and if he’s here long enough, he grows out a beard and just blends in with all the fishermen. He likes it. He doesn’t talk too much. And you’d think people would be like, hey, there’s that millionaire—”
“Billionaire,” Sophie corrected, rubbing her temples.
“Billionaire,” Reva echoed.
“Anyway,” Cathy continued, “they could say, hey, there’s that billionaire, but nobody does. He calls himself Jamie. His middle name is James, so it’s what his family always called him, because of his uncle Pete. Jamie spends money in Sitka. Jobs at the lodge, on the charter boats, on the island. He gives money to fix up Sitka’s landmarks, things like that.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Sophie said. “I can’t see something like that happening in San Francisco, though. People would be banging down his door, everyone wanting a piece of him.”
“Not here. In Alaska, people pretty much let you be who you want to be, especially if they’re already paying you a good wage.”
Just then, baby Jessie’s newborn cries sounded from the back room. Cathy squeezed Sophie’s hand before hurrying off. “I am sorry,” she said. “Like I’ve said before, Jamie’s a good guy. The best. You have to go with your heart, but I hope you give him another chance. And … don’t leave. There’s one more thing I want to tell you about Jamie. Maybe the most important thing.”
Sophie’s curiosity was piqued; although she was also afraid to find out what else Cathy might tell her. She watched her cousin-in-law walk away before turning back to meet Reva’s sad gaze.
Sad? Or she looked like she was trying to empathize with Sophie, but her wacky style kept her from looking very downcast. Today Reva wore plaid pants and a black shirt covered in a rose print and a hot pink vest, but what stood out was her hair.
“You dyed your hair.”
Reva shrugged. “I got tired of black and purple. Orange sounded fun.”
“Very … autumn.”
Reva nodded. “Brighten up the shorter days. Hey, sorry to just leave you, but I’ve got to get back to the lodge. You look tired, Sophie. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Sophie glanced around the booth at Ellie and Marcy. “I think I’m almost done for the day. I’ll wait to hear what else Cathy has to say, then go back and take a nap … but, Reva?”
“Yes?”
“I think there is something you can do for me. Would you be able to make some time to help me with something? Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”
28
It was a quiet day in Sitka. No cruise ships, so no tourists, and school had been back in session for a month, so families were on school day routines.
Jamie sat on the bench in Totem Square, with Pioneer Home to his back and the harbor stretched out in front of him. He wore a grey designer sports jacket, designer jeans, and a white silk shirt that set off his tan. The whole outfit was Marisa’s doing, as was pretty much anything he wore that didn’t have holes in it. Next to him on the bench was a bouquet of red roses.
He ran a hand over his clean-shaven face. He hated shaving, always had. Like his dad, he’d been cursed—or blessed, depending on the perspective—with a fast-growing beard that either came in long and full or had to be shaved twice a day to keep away a heavy five o’clock shadow. Normally he didn’t mind letting it grow out, except when he needed to put a clean-shaven, trustworthy face to his business, and now this deception with Sophie.
Jamie shifted uncomfortably on the bench. He had been right to deceive her, hadn’t he? Nobod
y else seemed to understand. Not his parents or Marisa, who had witnessed what happened to his last two relationships. Certainly not Roger, who seemed to think Jamie was doing this to toy with Sophie. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. How else was he supposed to get to know her and introduce her to this part of his life? Boy meets girl is hard enough. Billionaire meets girl, he’d come to find, was near impossible.
It was time to tell her. He was going to tell her on the boat that night, and he would have told her since then, except she kept putting him off. She was either too tired to see him, or there were other people around. There hadn’t been time.
But now she wanted to see him, had even asked him to meet her here in town. He looked at his watch. He was early, anxious to see her. She wouldn’t be there for another fifteen minutes. He tapped his foot, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his eyes.
How would he say it?
Sophie, I have something to tell you. I hope you won’t be disappointed. I’m not exactly who you think I am.
Too roundabout?
Sophie, I’m Jamie. It was me who kissed you in the lodge kitchen and behind the Gazebo at the island. I love you. Do you think you can love me?
Jamie wondered if Sophie would be more angry at him for deceiving her or embarrassed that she judged him, first by his looks as Jamie, then by his billionaire status as Peter? For heaven’s sake, when she first met me, she thought I was simple-minded. Yes, embarrassment over being judgmental might be her reaction. Whatever it was, he had arguments or reassurances prepared, whichever was needed.
The bench was the same one he and Sophie had shared on their first date together. No crows today; but then, he didn’t have food to tempt them. It was a longish bench, and when a young woman with a giant backpack approached, she sank down on the far end of it.
Jamie shifted, sat up taller. There was still plenty of room on the bench for when Sophie came. And this stranger had settled far enough away that it shouldn’t look to Sophie like Jamie was with the girl. He’d planned on them having their talk at this bench where they had their first date. Had played it out in his mind.
That’s okay. He could be flexible. Once Sophie arrived, he could suggest they go for a walk. He relaxed back in his seat, and waited.
The girl, who it would appear was a backpacker, maybe even homeless, had opened her giant backpack and was rummaging through it. Jamie didn’t pay much attention, until she spoke.
“I’ve got to clean this thing out.” She spoke in a low mutter. “There’s a sign over there, says, ‘Keep Sitka Clean,’ but where’re the garbage cans? Where am I supposed to get rid of stuff?”
Jamie took a better look at his bench companion. She was petite, probably in her early twenties, and goth. Her hair was dyed black with red patches—actual patches, not streaks—through it; her face was ash white, and her eyes were painted with wide black liner. Her lips were a purplish black. He tried not to wince at the ring through her nose and the two piercings above either end of her top lip.
She began stacking old socks and crinkled garbage beside her on the bench, all pulled from inside her backpack.
Who was this girl? On even closer inspection, her clothes were in bad shape, like she’d left a head-banger concert months ago and had been wandering ever since. Her backpack was worn, too. He wondered what all she had in there. It was big enough for a sleeping bag and much more. Was she staking out the bench to sleep on for the night? He wondered what the laws in Sitka were about that.
“I’ve seen some garbage bins over by the shops.” He pointed out the direction.
“Well, they aren’t very close, are they,” she complained. She pulled a crinkled disposable water bottle out. “I like to recycle, but I haven’t seen recycling bins since I got here.”
She looked up from her sorting, making eye contact with Jamie. Uncomfortable, he quickly looked away.
He hoped to spot Sophie coming, but when he turned back was startled to find the girl had silently changed spots on the bench, moving so close that they almost touched. It was involuntary, but he startled back in surprise.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she said. “I just wanted a closer look. Something about your face looks familiar. Have I seen you before?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think we’ve met before.” He felt suddenly worried for this girl who would approach an older stranger so boldly. “Hey, do you … have somewhere to go? Is there someone you need to call or have someone pick you up? I could talk to them at the Pioneer Home desk. They could let you use the phone.”
The girl sat back, relaxed. “No, I’m fine here.” Her eyes, quite frightening surrounded by the thick black makeup, never left his. “Are you sure we haven’t met before? Sometimes I hang out in Juneau, down by the docks.”
“Nope. Not in Juneau too often.” He stood up. “I think I’m going to head out. Are you sure there isn’t anything you need?”
“You say you want to help me, but you don’t look very friendly,” the girl said. She herself hadn’t smiled much, but kept looking at him with those creepy eyes. “In fact, you look like you want to run.”
“No, that’s not it. Sorry, I’m just waiting for someone. Someone else, that is. Someone specific, not just … anyone.”
“You look like you think I’m dangerous,” the goth girl said. “Do I scare you?”
A little. “No. Listen, I’m going to ask one more time before I go. A phone call? Social services? If you need something, I could find someone to help you.”
“But not you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You won’t help me yourself?”
“Like, what? Give you money? No. I’ll pay for lunch for you, over at the diner there, if you like. They have great burgers and fries.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. How about it?” He looked around again, but still no sign of Sophie. If he was going to buy this girl lunch, he’d have to hurry before Sophie came. “Maybe a cheeseburger, fries, shake?”
The girl thought about it for a moment. “You know what I’d love? A hamburger, no cheese … with just mustard, and triple pickles. And an extra mustard packet would be nice.”
Jamie stared at the girl for a second, the hair rising at the back of his neck as her words triggered a memory. How did she know? Had she been there that day that he and Sophie had first gone out? Had she overheard Sophie’s unusual burger order and was somehow mocking him now? As he tried to process it, the girl did something that completely unnerved this man of the world, this multibillionaire.
She smiled.
Jamie wouldn’t have thought that any amount of makeup, bling, or crazy clothing could have disguised the sweet girl he’d fallen in love with, but there she was. No matter how unrecognizable she had been under that disguise, once she smiled, he knew her.
“Sophie?”
“Surprise.”
Realization dawned on him as he took in her appearance, this time with new understanding. His eyes returned to hers. “You know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Since when?”
“Since I saw your shoulder. The burn.”
He automatically twitched his shoulder, now clad in designer clothes. When …? Ah. In the boat cabin, when he’d tried to keep her warm.
“Why didn’t you say something?” he asked.
“Hard to talk when your teeth are chattering so hard you think they’ll break. Hard to think, too. It wasn’t until the hospital that I started to put it together.”
Jamie had been thrown off by Sophie’s disguise and felt his control of the situation slipping. He shifted.
“Are you angry?” he asked.
“No.”
“Okay.” He felt his own anger rise. “So you decided to play a trick on me? Show me how it felt?”
“Yes.”
“Because, I had reasons for not telling you who I was. Do you know that?”
“I do now,” she said.
/>
“You do? Maybe you think you do.”
“I do know. Cathy told me.”
“Cathy wasn’t supposed to—”
“She didn’t. I already had it figured out. I just asked her why, and she explained.”
“What did she say?”
As she talked, Sophie began pulling off her disguise. Jamie felt relief watching her slip off the fake nose ring, and the stickers that looked like piercings.
“She said that you’ve had two broken engagements. One with a girl who wasn’t ready to be a billionaire’s wife …” Sophie swallowed hard before going on. “And one who was … too ready.”
Jamie looked at the ground around the bench and scratched his head. “I guess that about sums it up.”
“Fiancée number two is why you came up here last year. To hide.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Wallowing?”
“Working. I’m not a bad fisherman, you know.”
“I know. With all this time hiding, I guess you’ve gotten pretty good.”
Sophie’s eyes didn’t leave Jamie’s. She reached up and worked the black and purple wig loose from her hair, letting her naturally dark curls fall loose around her shoulders. Jamie wanted to hold her so much. He felt his Adam’s apple go up and down in a gulp. Sophie must have noticed, because she smiled.
“Billionaire’s prerogative to go fishing every day,” he said.
“I would say something about a billionaire’s responsibility. To whom much is given—”
“You’re right, I know. I still function. I run the business. Marisa helps me do that.”
“Really your cousin?”
“Of course. So, you’re not mad?”
“I don’t like that I didn’t know. When were you planning on telling me?” She’d taken a step closer, and her eyes—despite the black goo around them—had softened.
The Angler, the Baker, and the Billionaire (Destination Billionaire Romance) Page 18