Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, Delaney woke in her new room at the Aylett house, still coming to terms with the events of the day before. She’d gone from depressed and despondent, ready to give up her dreams…to this.
The bedroom felt like a sanctuary from another time.
She ran her fingers along the ornately carved bedpost, admiring the rich mahogany that glowed in the sunlight filtering through lace curtains.
The four-poster bed dominated the space, its matching dresser and armoire pushed against walls painted a soft sage green.
An area rug in muted blues and greens covered most of the hardwood floor, its intricate pattern pulling the room together. Her toes sank into it as she padded across to examine a small writing desk nestled in the corner by the window.
Back in Shadow Cove, her bedroom had been all whites and pastels, filled with modern furniture with clean lines. She’d wanted a simple space so that the focal point would be the view from the window—the rugged Maine coast.
This room was nothing like that, with its antiques and character, yet it felt more like home than anywhere else she’d stayed since she’d left that summer.
On the dresser, a collection of silver-framed photographs caught her attention.
Delaney moved closer, drawn to the smiling faces.
A striking brunette woman stood beside a tall light-haired man with Noah’s jawline and serious eyes.
His parents, she guessed. In another frame, a teenage Noah stood with his arm slung around a younger boy, who looked enough like him to be his brother.
Maybe this was Charlotte’s father. Mr. Aylett still hadn’t explained how exactly he’d become her guardian, but Charlotte had called him “Uncle Noah” a few times the night before.
Delaney picked up the third photo, this of the older couple and the two boys, though they were younger here, perhaps ten and seven.
The photo had been taken in the living room—the one she’d seen when Mr. Aylett had shown her around when she’d first arrived.
In the photo, there was a Christmas tree in the corner, a few mugs of hot chocolate or coffee on the tables, and used wrapping paper strewn across the floor.
The family looked…happy. Just plain happy.
Where were Noah’s parents? Where was his brother?
What events had transpired from the Christmas in that photo to today?
She set the frame down and moved to the window, where she shifted the curtains aside and peered out.
By the time she’d gotten here the night before, the sun had set.
This morning, she saw that her second-story room looked over a small yard hemmed in by a hedge of evergreen bushes.
On the other side was a narrow road that separated the property from a sandy beach and, beyond that, the Atlantic, shimmering gold beneath the sunrise.
Though Delaney was far from Maine, those waters were as familiar as her reflection.
The Atlantic made her feel at home. It was why, in the previous few months, she’d never ventured far from the coast, even though the cost of living was so much higher than if she’d gone inland.
Somehow, it felt like, if she stayed near the ocean, she would stay connected to her sisters and her parents.
She longed for them, but the homesickness was a little lessened today.
Today, she had a higher purpose than just keeping herself alive.
Delaney showered and dressed in jeans and her favorite soft lavender turtleneck. She arranged her hair into a low ponytail and hesitated in front of the mirror.
Though the bed had been comfortable, she hadn’t slept well, which showed in the dark smudges beneath her eyes.
In her reflection, Delaney didn’t see her sister Alyssa’s stubbornness or Brooklynn’s cheerfulness. There was no trace of Cici’s determination or Kenzie’s thirst for adventure.
None of her sisters’ admirable traits stared back at her.
All Delaney saw was a woman nervous to walk downstairs and face her new employer.
She and Charlotte were already friends, but Mr. Aylett was intimidating, exacting, and demanding.
The day before, she’d watched him fire Charlotte’s former nanny on the spot.
Would one misstep cause her to suffer the same fate?
Certainly not for the same reason. Delaney was more watchful of the children in her care than that so-called caregiver had been. She understood what the slightest distraction could cost.
She was great with kids. It was adults she had a problem with, especially intimidating ones like her new employer.
She took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to blow her fear away with it. “You can do this.”
Her reflection smirked at her as she headed for the door.
A small, octagonal window at the end of the hall let in enough light for her to make her way to the staircase. The banister, floors, and molding all gleamed with the patina of age and dignity.
Mr. Aylett had given her a quick tour the night before. Charlotte had accompanied them, her quiet presence distracting—and worrying. Delaney needed to know more about her, but Mr. Aylett had seemed reluctant to say much in front of her.
After the tour, he’d told Delaney to meet him in the kitchen “first thing,” and then retreated to his office to work.
How was she supposed to know what time “first thing” was? Better early than late. He didn’t seem the type of man to sleep in.
She reached the foyer, flanked by a sitting room and an office, and headed down a wide center hallway lined with black-and-white photographs of people from past generations.
A dining room on her left boasted a long, heavy table with carved legs surrounded by twelve matching chairs.
In the center of the table, a vase overflowed with blue and lavender silk hydrangeas.
An empty crystal decanter and matching glasses stood on a side table against the far wall.
She crossed to it and lifted one of the glasses to see the bottom.
Sure enough, there was that distinctive mark…
“…did you think was going to happen?”
The angry tone had her spinning
Mr. Aylett was walking down the hallway but must’ve seen her out of the corner of his eye. He stopped, then backed up and stepped into the doorway. He wore only gym shorts and tennis shoes, a towel wrapped around his neck, his phone pressed to his ear.
The man had broad shoulders and defined muscles in his chest and abdomen. His hair was damp, his skin flushed and healthy.
He was beautiful. And eyeing her like he’d caught her casing the place.
He spoke into the phone. “I’m blocking your number. Stay away from me.” He ended the call and glared at Delaney. “What are you doing in here?”
His voice held the same angry intensity.
Hadn’t he told her the night before to make herself at home?
She set the glass down. “Just looking.” At least her voice didn’t shake. “These pieces are similar to…” Her words trailed at the flash of fury in his gaze. “Is something—?”
“Similar to what?”
“My mother has glasses like these. I was looking to see if they were the same.”
“Those are antique Waterford passed down from my great-grandfather. They’re incredibly valuable.”
Annoyance pricked her skin, but she kept her tone even. “Unless they were custom made for the Aylett family, it’s possible they’re the same.” She nodded to the phone he held in a white-knuckled grip. “Everything okay?”
“It’s none of your business,” he snapped. Then took a breath. “Sorry. It was just a former colleague. She took me by surprise, and…” He shook his head. “Once again, I have to apologize for my rudeness. My mother would be appalled.”
His abrupt shift was jarring, but nothing like the sight of her employer without a shirt on. She tried to focus on his face, but her gaze kept flicking downward.
The crystal was pretty, but this man was a work of art. That thought had her cheeks burning.
He pulled the towel from around his neck and shook it out. It wasn’t a towel but a T-shirt, which he slipped over his head. Maybe he’d read her thoughts. How mortifying.
“I was working out. There’s equipment downstairs, if you ever want to use it. I mean, except between four and six a.m.”
“Gotcha.” This was starting out as the strangest first day of any job she’d ever had.
He spun and headed down the hall. “Coming?”
She followed him to the kitchen at the back of the house—a large open space housing the living room on one side, the kitchen on the other.
The kitchen had modern white cabinetry and a gray granite-topped island.
This was the only room that didn’t seem hemmed in by the house’s original Victorian layout.
Walls must have been removed to create this modern look.
Floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the porch and, beyond that, the grassy yard she’d seen from upstairs.
She glimpsed the ocean between the bushes.
Mr. Aylett rounded the island to where a coffee maker stood on the far counter, its carafe already filled with dark brew. “You want a cup?”
“Sure.”
He filled a mug and slid it across the island. “Cream, sugar?”
“If it’s no trouble.”
He retrieved a carton of cream from the refrigerator, then slid it and a sugar dish—pale blue with pink flowers—across the counter.
“Thank you.” She doctored her coffee while he filled a glass with water.
She sipped the warm drink, and he sipped his cold one. Neither of them said anything.
They hadn’t spoken much the night before, either.
She said, “I suppose we should—”
“—Charlotte usually wakes—”
He stopped, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth. “Ladies first.”
“I was going to say that we should talk about Charlotte’s schedule and what you expect from me.” Ordinarily, those things would be covered in the interview. Nothing about this job so far had been ordinary.
He leaned back against the far counter. “Have a seat if you want.”
She chose one of the barstools and pulled her phone from her pocket to take notes.