7. Chapter 7
seven
“That was an excellent lasagna.” Alex saluted Rowan with her beer bottle.
“It was tasty,” Oliver agreed.
After talking to Rowan, Kieran had bolted and left Chris with his fuming sister, an excited Alex, the Zen-like Oliver, and a passing, “Good luck!”
The elf of a woman had grudgingly herded them all inside for dinner since the timer on her phone started beeping. Ten minutes later, and they’d sat down to a big pan of lasagna, salad, and wine.
The conversation wasn’t half-bad, either. Alex and Chris carried most of it, while Oliver, who preferred to listen, chimed in occasionally. Rowan finally joined in when Alex asked again what had brought Chris to Bright Head in the first place. She’d deflected the question with a non-answer and changed the subject by turning the attention to Alex and Oliver.
And now they were at the end of the meal, and as polite customs go, the guests complimented the chef. But Rowan looked at her friends with narrowed eyes as if she didn’t believe the words coming out of their mouths.
“You’re professional cooks. I won’t be insulted if you tell me it sucked,” Rowan said.
“But it didn’t suck. It was good. Didn’t you see me eat a huge second helping?” Alex insisted.
“So you wouldn’t hurt my feelings.”
The woman can ’ t take a compliment , Chris noted.
“You tell her, Chris.” An exasperated Alex turned to him .
Three pairs of eyes trained on him. Alex, obviously, expected Chris to do the polite thing. Oliver just waited with his unreadable expression. And Rowan’s face silently said, Go ahead. Lie to me again.
Chris weighed his options. He was already on shaky ground with the woman, but if he had to work with her and wanted her to take his suggestions seriously, he shouldn’t start by giving her half-truths. In a different situation, he would never criticize a cook who just fed him. But Rowan wouldn’t believe the usual lip-service. In fact, she prepared herself for criticisms by lowering her expectation.
Taking care with his words, Chris said, “I enjoyed the meal. Thank you for setting an extra seat for me.”
“See!” Alex exclaimed.
“But?” Rowan knowingly pushed.
Chris studied Rowan. “I could tell cooking isn’t your favorite thing to do, but you did it anyway. For your friends. You know these two chefs could’ve whipped up a fast, delicious meal with what your pantry has to offer. But you also know that they might be tired from their trip from Portland, and you wanted to welcome them with a hearty, fulfilling meal they didn’t have to prepare themselves.”
When Alex started to protest, Chris lifted a hand to hold her off. “It’s thoughtful and hospitable, two excellent traits in an inn’s proprietor. You most likely chose lasagna because you could prepare it last night and throw it into the oven this evening. After all, you were busy during the day. It’s a fairly simple dish, but it still takes effort to make, and it is always a crowd-pleaser. And it was. So I say it was an excellent choice.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of words just to say that was an excellent dinner,” Alex retorted.
Chris grinned at her. “Rowan wouldn’t take it if I just said it was excellent.”
Alex studied him through narrowed eyes. “Very perceptive of you.”
“But you didn’t say it was an excellent lasagna. You said it was an excellent choice,” Rowan countered.
“Oh, for god’s sake, just say thank you and move on,” Alex shut Rowan’s protest down.
Chris was glad he wasn’t the one who had to say it, but Alex was right .
Rowan’s lips flattened in annoyance, but she also had the grace to accept the reprimand. “Thank you. I’m glad you liked the meal,” she finally said.
Oliver got up and started collecting dishes. “We got the dishes since you cooked.”
“Thank you, O,” Rowan said. “I’ll get Mr. Sullens settled in.”
“It’s Chris, and please don’t treat me like a guest.” Chris got up. “I can help with the dishes.”
“You can do the dishes tomorrow, then.” Alex winked.
“Kieran told me you worked the farm all afternoon. I’m sure you’d like to clean up and rest,” Rowan said, surprisingly sounding genuine.
Chris wasn’t going to refuse the deal. He was feeling dusty after the trip and the physical work. “Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”
Rowan gestured for him to follow her.
“We’re gonna head out when we’re done. See you in the morning,” Alex said.
“Good night.” Chris flashed Alex and Oliver an appreciative smile.
He then followed Rowan back to the lobby. “Where are they going?”
“I put them up at the manager’s house, or what will be the manager’s house if we hire a GM someday,” Rowan answered.
“And where do you live?” he asked.
“I live here. My quarters are off the office.”
“Oh. I could stay with Alex and Oliver if you’re more comfortable with that.” He picked up his two small bags from the floor where he’d left them earlier.
“It’s a small two-bedroom house,” Rowan said and eyed his belongings. “You travel light.”
“Kinda have to with the bike.”
“Where did you start from?” she asked. “My…half-sister lives in New York, is that where you came from?”
That was the first time Rowan mentioned Rae at all.
“Rae and her husband recently moved to his hometown in Georgia, but yes, I live in New York.”
Rowan nodded as she digested the info but didn’t comment further on Rae. “But you retain a hint of your Boston roots,” she instead said as they started climbing the stairs .
“You could tell?” He eyed her with a small amused smile. After living in a boarding school in England for most of his teenage years, he thought he’d gotten rid of most of his hometown accent.
“Like my father used to say, you can take a Mainuh out of Maine, but you’ll never take the Mainuh out of him. I suppose it’s the same for Bostonians.”
“Or New Yorkers,” he added. Or even Southerners, as he thought of his friend, Dean, whose subtle Southern drawl had charmed most girls in college.
Rowan turned left at the second floor’s landing and opened the first door. After turning on the light, she walked in. “I had this set up to show Bobbie and her team how I like the rooms made, but you can use this. I’ll have another one ready in the morning.”
“I can take another room if you want to keep this—”
She waved him off. “It’s no big deal.”
“Thank you for accommodating me. I know we didn’t get off on the right foot earlier.” He did a quick sweep of the room.
It wasn’t a large room, but it was spacious enough for a soft-backed queen-size bed covered in white bedding and fluffy pillows. An antique dresser stood on one wall with a modern gold-rimmed mirror hanging above it. The mix of modern and classic should’ve clashed, but it worked. There was also an overstuffed three-seater sofa, a reading chair, and modern-shaped lamps to complete the look.
“This is a great-looking room,” Chris commented as he continued to explore the details.
“It isn’t a suite at The Sullens or…” Rowan started.
Rowan stopped mid-sentence when she looked up and saw Chris Sullens looking at her with an amused smile. That condescending smile , she grumbled internally. But she remembered what Alex had said: just say thank you and move on .
In her time with Richard, he’d often given her compliments just to follow them with veiled criticisms. He’d also used praises to manipulate her to do mundane tasks he didn’t want to do himself, like the laundry, cooking, or cleaning, as if she had a Ph.D. on those chores. Still, he complained when his shirt wasn’t pressed, dinner was a tad bland, or he’d run out of shampoo, and she hadn’t bought him a new bottle.
So Rowan became wary of his honey words. In hindsight, she’d realized she had slowly become the woman he wanted—a perfect, submissive housewife to his future-CEO self. Well, fuck that. But the bad habit was hard to kick.
“Thank you,” Rowan said stiffly instead.
Chris turned to her as if he sensed the doubt in her voice. “Did you design this room?”
“I had a designer friend’s help. I thought the old inn’s look needed modernizing, but I also didn’t want to lose the traditional touches.”
“I think you and your designer friend managed to find the balance. This room is warm and inviting,” Chris said, walking to the dresser.
Rowan searched for any hint of sarcasm in his words, but the way he touched the surface of the antique dresser and how his lips turned up at the corners in a small smile showed appreciation, not condescension as she’d thought earlier.
“How many rooms are in this house?” he asked.
“Four estate rooms like this with queen beds and three suites with king beds and larger floor space. Two of the suites still need a few finishing touches.”
“Are they similarly designed?”
“Similar, but each room has its own special touches and theme, either in the art choices, the accent wall, or the bedding. This one is the most neutral. We decided to play with the gold accent and didn’t want to overdo it.”
Chris nodded. “Good call. I’ll be very comfortable here.”
“Good.” Rowan turned to open a door, wanting to get this over with. “The bathroom is here. You should have what you need in there, but let me know if you need something else.”
“Miss Kelly, I appreciate the hospitality, but I’m not a guest. You don’t have to give me the service spiel.”
“You are a guest, Mr. Sullens. You came here to learn more about the Bright Head Farm & Inn, correct? I don’t need you reporting to your friend that you weren’t treated nicely.”
Now Chris’ smile turned ironic because Rowan knew she’d shown him the bare minimum of hospitality. But he didn’t point that out. Instead, he sat on the sofa and said, “While we’re in private, perhaps you and I can discuss how you want to handle this.”
With a gesture, Chris invited Rowan to sit as well. Reluctantly, she complied.
“I understand my arrival was unexpected. I didn’t plan to stay, but I am sincere in my offer to help with the wedding and anywhere else I can offer my expertise,” Chris began. “And then there’s the real reason I’m here. Your friend, Alex, seems to be the type who will continue asking a question until she gets the answer. I assumed she doesn’t know about Rae.”
Rowan blew a breath of annoyance. “No, she doesn’t. And I’d appreciate it if you don’t announce it, either.”
A disapproving frown formed on Chris’ face. “I see. Rae was the secret daughter your father wouldn’t acknowledge for years, and now that he fessed up, you’re trying to keep the lid on it, aren’t you?”
Rowan barked a bitter laugh. “That can of worms is wide open, but it’s a family matter. I don’t need everybody and their brother to know about it.”
Though she should really tell Alex. She was her oldest friend in the world. If anybody should be her sister, it was Alex, not some stranger she hadn’t known about until eight months ago.
“To think about it, you’re not family, either,” Rowan pointed out. “Why should I talk to you about this?”
“I’m Rae’s family—more than you or your family have ever been,” Chris replied. “Genetics don’t necessarily make a family.”
When Rowan had found Rae’s full name in the will, it’d been easy to find out who her half-sister was. A web search of her name had given Rowan a picture-perfect life full of world travel, friends, and a glimpse of a happy marriage. And to have the heir to The Sullens Hotels claiming her as family, it looked to her that Rae Allen had done well for herself despite not having their father in her life. This guy would not make her feel guilty for a mistake her father had made many years ago.
“No, they don’t,” Rowan shot back. “And the children do not inherit the father’s sins, either. We extended an invitation to Rae. But instead of her, you showed up. Without notice during the most inconvenient time, I must add. And you expect me to just be cordial ?
“Be straight with me, Mr. Sullens. You came to this island—to this estate—with a preconceived idea of who we are. Let me guess, you think we’re a bunch of hicks trying to score money from your billionaire friend, who happens to be married to our half-sister? Well, you can tell my sister to screw herself if she can’t be bothered to meet and get to know us,” she charged.
“You mean the way Neal Kelly couldn’t be bothered to be a father to one of his children?” he asked in a flat voice. Gone was his earlier amiable tone and smile. “And yes, you nailed it. I had to consider my friends’ wealth might be a factor in why suddenly your family is acknowledging Rae. Do you really expect her to just jump for joy?”
“I don’t expect anything from her. We don’t want her money. But I made a promise to my father as he lay dying…” Rowan’s voice hitched as she saw that moment as clearly as it was yesterday. “…that I’d find her. So don’t you dare make it sound as if I was the one who abandoned her. Until that night, I never knew I had a sister!”
She had to scrunch all the muscles on her face, willing herself not to cry. The thought of her dad still overwhelmed her from time to time. Not wanting this stranger to see her lose control of her emotions, she quickly stood and was about to walk out. But his voice stopped her.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Kelly.” His tone had softened, and his offer of condolence seemed sincere. “And I know you and your brother can’t be held accountable for what your father did, but you need to understand something.
“Though it must’ve been quite a shock for you to find out about Rae, she, on the other hand, had wondered why her father had left since she was a mere child. Then she had to live with the knowledge that her father had chosen to be with his other family—to raise his other children, but not her—for more than a decade. So pardon me for being protective of my friend. I don’t want her to get hurt all over again.”
That piece of knowledge struck Rowan. She turned back to him. “She knew about us?”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
“But…why didn’t she…she could’ve come—”
“She could’ve come and confronted your father?” Chris finished her stammering questions. “She did when she was nineteen, I think. Your father turned her away. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but your father was—”
“Don’t!” Rowan stuck her finger at him. “I know who my father was. He was a great father to Kieran and me. Nothing you say will change that.”
Chris’ mouth formed a sardonic smile. “I believe you. I’m sure he was a good father to you and your brother, just at what cost? Or, more precisely, at whose cost?”