Chapter Three
THREE
Hailey
“You look a little clammy. Do you need more water?” My mom is about to flag another server.
“I’m okay.” I catch her hand across the table, stopping her. She jolts at the sudden touch as much as I do. We’re not a physically affectionate mother-daughter pair. Not like Elizabeth and Phoebe.
Even so, my mom turns her hand, letting my fingers slip into hers for the briefest of moments. She squeezes the tips of them in the subtlest expression of care. Here I was, expecting a lengthy lecture about not being put together enough.
After releasing her hand from mine, she clasps the stem of a wineglass filled with a pale-gold liquid.
The Sauvignon Blanc tips me off that she’ll be having oysters on the half shell.
It’s an Addison Tinrock staple, and despite everything we’ve been through, a part of me is honored she’s let me see her likes, dislikes, and true personality when so much of her life is a careful fabrication.
I prefer seeing the truths. I never want to be fed lies again.
Water laps gently against sailboats and yachts in Bowen’s Wharf.
It’s not a secret how much the godmothers love Newport, Rhode Island.
How along the Cliff Walk they’d admire the rows of Gilded Age mansions.
How they dreamed of one day being so rich and powerful they could buy the Vanderbilts’ summer home themselves.
I love the scenic New England coast. Pleasant. The salty air and smell. It eases me as much as the escalating chatter around us. Ladies in flowing silk dresses scoop mussels out of shells and sip rosé. Lost in their own universe. Oblivious to ours.
I take a deeper breath and ask, “What were we talking about before?”
“Phoebe and Rocky.”
Of course we were. Their names typically leave my mom’s lips as easily as hello and goodbye.
Phoebe and Rocky.
Rocky and Phoebe.
My older brother and my best friend.
Two people who have been vital organs in my life as essential as lungs and kidneys and the black heart that pumps in my chest. Brain fog begins clearing. Little pieces of our lunch convo return to me. “You were asking for updates,” I state. “Haven’t you heard the gossip at the club?”
Addison and Elizabeth have been frequenting Victoria Country Club since Claudia’s funeral.
They’ve already established false identities as ritzy, boutique New York matchmakers—which is why we’re meeting outside of Victoria.
It’d raise too many questions if they were spotted out to lunch with me and Phebs in town.
We could brush away the skepticism, but it’s easier to avoid altogether.
She watches me tear a packet of Sugar in the Raw. “Yes, I’ve heard about the breakup. You really can’t escape the news about Phoebe Smith, Jake Waterford, and Grey Thornhall.” She takes a stiff sip of wine. “It’s this town’s version of Dawson’s Creek.”
She knows I love those soapy shows, even if they aren’t her favorite. I scoot closer to the table and say, “Except part of the love triangle was fake, which makes it not really a love triangle at all.”
“For the best. I can’t imagine anything more needlessly complicated than a real-life pull between two men. Phoebe avoided a headache.”
I try to think of anything but Oliver and Jake. “What’s the public perception of the breakup?” I stick to the job. Stable ground.
“Claudia’s friends at the club are unsurprised. No one honestly believed Jake would last with Phoebe long term, and those with daughters have already gone rabid. Julia Kelsey’s mother is trying to set the poor girl up for polo lessons with Jake.”
“As expected,” I mutter, my stomach weirdly knotting picturing a flock of women hovering around Jake.
I can’t imagine Jake lifting Julia off a horse without feeling dizzy.
I should drink water, but I dump my sugar into a cinnamon latte macchiato, a splurge when I’ve been mostly living off drip coffee these past months.
This will be my only burst of caffeine today, so I plan to savor every sip.
“What do you think?” my mom asks.
“About?” I lift my gaze to hers, seeing her assess me a little too intensely.
“About Jake.”
I blink, not knowing what to say, considering she has zero clue that I’m Jake’s fuck buddy.
A secret I shall not be inviting her to share.
And she’s not asking if I’m sleeping with Jake—that’d be ludicrous.
We’ve been very discreet, and the only reason a select few people know is because I told them.
“Jake…?”
“And Phoebe.” She gives me a puzzled look. “You’re sure you’re fine, Hailey?” She waves a server over, just to ask them to adjust the umbrella. Shade bathes me once more, and I thank them before they leave. “Better?” she wonders.
I nod. “I think it was a good, amicable breakup. There was no screaming match. No slap to the face. She didn’t push him in the pool, and he didn’t stomp angrily away. Phoebe should come out unscathed.”
The two of them stopped attending social functions together. People asked questions, and they’ve told the same story. Jake is mourning over his mom’s unexpected death two weeks ago, and now he’s too busy dealing with the messiness of his inheritance to give time to a relationship.
They’re officially over.
My mom sets her wineglass on the table, a whisper of a smile lifting her lips. “It was a clever breakup. Using Claudia Waterford’s death as the impetus. It painted them both in a good light. Was that you?”
She’s asking if it was my plan.
I nod again. “They asked for my help.”
“As they should. You’re brilliant.” She says it as if it still exists within me. My smarts. As if they haven’t been lost with my mind.
A familiar surge of pride pours through me. I used to bottle up her compliments like medicine, downing them during low times to give me boosts. These days it’s harder to hoard them. So I let the compliment flow through me and away like a single shot of dopamine.
She stares off at the patio railing for a beat, then takes a longer sip of wine. “If the Koning job is still on…” She pauses, hesitating to continue or not.
“It is still in motion. We haven’t called it quits.” Once Jake has full control of his dynasty, he’s agreed to give us each a million dollars for helping him. It’s a long con that was severely flubbed when my little brother offed Claudia.
Jake doesn’t deserve to be abandoned halfway through, especially after our mistake cost him his mother, and the payout will be a windfall we all desperately need.
“Then what’s the point of Phoebe breaking up with Jake?” she questions.
“Because she loves Rocky.”
“She can love Rocky and still fake date Jake.” Her advice is to do by example—since she’s been with my dad in the real sense while they’ve pretended to be with other people for cons—but we aren’t trying to follow in their exact footsteps.
Clearly this hasn’t sunk in for her yet.
“She’d rather be with Rocky publicly.”
Mom shakes her head slowly, her fingernails tapping the teak table. “The better play is for Phoebe to remain with the thirdborn heir to a billion-dollar fortune, especially while he’s fighting with his brother for the inheritance.”
I can’t disagree. It is the smarter move. But I’m still warring with how to protect the people I love versus protecting the job. “Phoebe and Jake’s breakup won’t impact the job that much,” I defend.
I’ve weighed the cost, and I’d rather my best friend be blissfully happy with my older brother than be tortured with the idea that they can never be publicly together.
“You know what would be easiest.” Her eyes bore into mine. There is no question. Because I’m conditioned to see the seamless path to secure a fortune. The one she taught me to locate.
“She’s not marrying Jake,” I say more strongly.
“Would he agree to it?”
I shove back from the table, feeling sick.
“Hailey, it’s just a question,” she says quickly. “I’m not pushing. I’m just…trying to gather data.” Her breathing shortens. She’s nervous? I’ve never had this much power over her, I don’t think. She’s never been this afraid to truly lose me.
“It doesn’t matter if he would or wouldn’t marry Phoebe.
” I’m not giving her all the information.
She’s not using me as a resource into the mind of Jake Waterford, and I hate the implication that Phoebe can be persuaded to do anything.
That the only roadblock would be convincing Jake.
“Phoebe wants to be romantically and truthfully with Rocky. What Phoebe—my best friend wants—is all that matters.”
Phoebe has never been selfish. She’s never wanted anything for herself at the cost of the team, and the fact that she wants my brother publicly is big.
“Okay. Okay.” She places her hands on the table to calm the strain between us. “You are aware, though, that marriage between Phoebe and Jake would guarantee more than a million—”
“I’m aware,” I cut her off.
I can’t lie to myself. I know a marriage is what I would suggest if feelings weren’t in the way. And maybe not just Phoebe and Rocky’s feelings…maybe mine, too.
She releases a soft sigh, uncertainty flashing in her tightened eyes.
She wants me and her to be okay, but she can’t help but dole out nuggets of advice.
I prepare for another. Unsurprised when she says, “Your life here is dependent on the outcome of that job.” She means my financial stability.
“Unless you’d like to pull one in another city. You can always leave Victoria—”
“No, thank you.” I sit a little straighter. “We’ll be fine here as servers.”
“And how have you managed in one of Connecticut’s richest towns as a server?” Not well. “Have you been dependent on your landlord?”
Yes. I swallow a sip of macchiato. “Jake has covered our rent for more than a few months,” I admit.
She leans back with a slight smile, liking this answer. “You should keep squeezing him.”
Guilt flips my stomach. “It’s not like that. He’s just being kind.”