Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
I woke up to the sound of an alarm the next morning, but it wasn’t mine. Ever since I moved into the penthouse suite last week, the entire floor had been quiet. I knew the suites on this level were more expensive, more rarely rented out, but I hadn’t realized how vacant it’d be. How alone I’d be.
At least, I had been alone until the blaring nuclear meltdown of someone’s alarm woke me the next morning.
I removed my silk eye mask. The alarm continued to ring from the room beside mine. How was it that the person could sleep through the alarm when it was right by their ear, and yet it woke me up through the wall? Were our beds butted up against the same wall? Were they deaf?
I gave it four more seconds. On the fifth, I banged my fist into the built-in headboard, once, hard. The impact jarred my hand, but a moment later, the alarm stopped.
It was six in the morning, and I gave up on falling back to sleep. In my closet, I took my time picking my outfit, ultimately deciding on a sand colored Gilfman. The suit’s fabric was made of rayon and linen, which made it the perfect lightweight suit for the increasing temperatures. I picked out a loose silk shirt to go underneath, opting out of a vest for today. More of a casual look, but still elegant. My dark hair would look best down, where it would fall just to my collarbones, a beautiful contrast with the beige material. I moved into the bathroom, already picturing how I’d style it.
It was funny, my parents accusing me of growing too isolated when they were the reason I was alone. Instead of allowing me to remain in their house, they moved me to the penthouse suite on the eighth floor of Massey Suites with no hesitation. They didn’t invite me for family dinners. They never stopped by my room unless it was for something they needed, and were almost always vaguely threatening.
It was easy to become a recluse when everyone forced you into the role.
Once I finished getting ready—and double checking my suit for any wrinkles or loose threads—I opened the door to the hallway, wincing at the stark contrast from my dark room to the bright corridor. A second later, the door to the hotel room beside mine jerked inward, the mechanism jamming as whoever ripped it open.
I stilled as the person spilled into the hallway, not quite believing what I was seeing.
Sumner Pennington, stumbling from the suite beside mine. Gone was the white shirt and dress pants from the night before, replaced with a black sweatshirt and a pair of loose sweatpants. His face scrunched up as he, too, grimaced against the bright light of the hallway, looking as if he’d just rolled from his bed to the corridor.
Last night felt a bit like a fever dream, especially looking at him now.
Sumner stretched his long arms before opening his eyes wide enough to realize I stood before him. He cleared his throat, attempting to stand straight and appear professional despite stumbling out of his hotel room in his pajamas. His smile was awkward. “Morning.”
“What are you doing?”
“Um… standing? Standing. I’m definitely standing.”
I blamed his dimwitted response on his clear sleep deprivation. “No, what are you doing on this floor? In that room?”
“Your parents put me in the room beside yours… so I can hear when you come and go.”
Sumner’s voice was friendly as he explained the lengths my parents would go to, keeping me controlled. As if it were the most common thing in the world. As if asking him to listen to my comings and goings wasn’t creepy.
They truly must’ve been paying him well if they were putting him up in one of their expensive suites. “Don’t you have a house? An apartment?”
“I’m, uh—well, I’m in between places at the moment. I actually just moved here?—”
That was why he took on the job, then. Who would’ve refused when they got a suite and given a salary most dreamed of? “You were the one with that alarm, then?”
“You could hear it?”
“I thought my fist banging on the wall made that clear.”
“Is that what that sound was?” Sumner scratched the back of his head. “I thought it was the air conditioning kicking on.”
Without a word, I turned on my heel and headed toward the elevator.
Of course, Sumner trailed behind me.
“I told you that you weren’t coming with me this morning,” I said, running a hand down the front flap of my suit jacket to make sure it was straight.
“I know,” Sumner said as he followed. “I’m going down for the free breakfast. It’s on the ground floor, right?”
I stopped in front of the elevator and paused, and it didn’t take him more than a handful of seconds to realize I waited for him to press the button. He hit it, and it took its sweet time to draw all the way up to us. “Eat at the country club,” I told him, disinterested. “The ambiance is better.”
Sumner rocked on his heels. “That’s okay. I don’t really care about ambiance .”
The way he said it had me frowning. “You do know what that word means, right?”
Sumner hesitated a second too long. “Of course.”
“What are your qualifications to be a secretary?” I asked as the elevator arrived, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, we stepped on together. “Where did my parents find you?”
“We can go over my resume at brunch if you want.” Sumner scrubbed a fist into his eye, looking very much like a toddler that just woken from a nap. “And maybe we can get to know each other more. ”
“We don’t need to get to know each other.” The elevator began its rapid descent, and I kept my chin set. “You’re my secretary. Not my friend.”
I watched Sumner tilt his head in the mirror a second before the elevator doors opened at the lobby, taking away his image. We both stepped out, and to the left was the direction of the entrance, and to the right was the way to the breakfast bar. I paused at the crossroads, as if wanting to linger in the conversation a moment longer.
Sumner, however, had his sights set on food. “Have a good morning,” he told me with a lopsided smile. He took a step backward, toward the right, still holding my gaze. “Your parents gave me your number yesterday, so I’ll text you, so you have mine. Shoot me a message when you get back to the hotel, and I’ll meet you out front for brunch.”
“Wear something business casual,” I told him, to which he ducked his head in acknowledgement.
“I’ll see you when you get back.” And with that, Sumner turned around fully and set off in the direction of the breakfast bar.
I stared after him, trying to decipher what about that interaction left me feeling so unsettled. No, perhaps that wasn’t the right word. Off-kilter. Maybe it was because I was so unused to interacting with people in general. Even in New York, my connections to the outside world were minimal. I knew people in college, but never grew close to them. With my mother always hovering, it was hard to interact with anyone outside of whom she deemed acceptable.
Normally, I hated anyone she gave the green light on. Sumner got her gold stamp of approval, and yet here I was, almost anticipating coming back to the hotel for brunch.
It was unacceptable.
There was only one person left in Addison high society that I could stand, and that was Nancy Priscilla Du Pont.
Nancy, or Ms. Nancy to those trying to schmooze her in hopes of getting a slice of her will, was one of a kind when it came to the elite. While she had ample money, Nancy chose a simple one-story ranch style home out in the country. When she could drive, she’d continued on in her simple sedan she’d been driving for over twenty years. It sat parked in the driveway now, allowing the elements to rain down on it, the rust to eat at it, without care.
Even though she and her husband founded the Alderton-Du Ponte Country Club and didn’t hold back to erect it with glitz and grandeur, she preferred a simpler life. No maids, no staff, nothing. From the outside looking in, one would guess she had money, but no one would’ve guessed how much.
Her husband died decades ago, and with no children, it left her all alone. She often told me she was happier alone.
We were two peas in the same pod, Nancy and me, and it’d been far too long since I’d spoken with her last.
“Hello?” I called into the house when I opened the front door. The scent of medicated ointment hung in the air, and it burned my nose. After so long away, the house felt… wrong . What should’ve been familiar and lulling only seemed out of place.
I found a woman sitting at Nancy’s small dining room table with a magazine open, and recognized her immediately. Then I fought the urge to groan.
“You’re here?” Yvette asked, not bothering to hide the disdain from her voice. Her blouse had a blooming neckline, one that only fell low enough to display the diamond necklace that hung around her neck.
“It appears so.” I looked around the kitchen, but Yvette was alone. “You’re here?”
“It appears so,” Yvette replied in a snotty voice, returning her attention to her magazine.
“Why? Where’s Nancy?”
“The ladies at the country club rotate who stays with her during the day. She’s too sick to be left alone for too long.”
Despite the warm air of the house—Nancy apparently didn’t believe in air conditioning anymore—a chill snaked its way up my spine. “Where is she?”
“Out back.”
I stared at her for a beat as I digested her words. “I thought you said she shouldn’t be left alone.”
Yvette decided I was no longer worthy of a response, because she simply flipped another magazine page.
It was almost amusing how different people behaved when my mother wasn’t around. I gritted my teeth together now, and ultimately deciding against picking a fight with my least favorite person, and moving through the house. It’d be unfortunate if I shed demon blood on Nancy’s hardwood floors.
I found Nancy on a hill about a hundred feet from her back porch that overlooked her wide, expansive acreage. The land had once been beautiful with lush green grass and a small manmade pond set into the land with the golden sunlight shining down on it. Now, the grass had thinned and overgrown, the pond more of an algae pit than anything to sink even a toe into. Nancy had parked her wheelchair underneath the shade of an oak tree, its buds doing little to keep the sunlight off her frail skin. Her back was to me, her shoulders hunched over as if she were cold in the early summer sun.
Even from the brief glimpse, it was clear that, in the four months since I’d last seen her, she had declined further. She hadn’t been in the best state when I’d been home for New Year’s, but her frame seemed thinner, frailer. Even from here, I could see a blanket draped over her lap, but still watched as her shoulders shook as if cold.
Drawing in a breath, I started toward her. “What’d you do to piss Yvette off?”
Nancy jumped at my voice, and if I’d been hoping for a loud and excited reunion, I’d have been horribly mistaken. Nancy took my sudden reappearance in stride, hardly batting an eye twice in my direction. “What makes you think I did anything?” she snapped back at me, her voice ornery comforting. It contrasted the scent of medication in her house.
“She let you wheel yourself out here unsupervised.”
“ Unsupervised ,” she scoffed. I came around to her side, joining her in gazing at her pond. “I’m not a toddler.”
“You’ve got the temper of one.” I withdrew the small bag of Dutch dark chocolate from the pocket in my suit jacket, offering halfway to her. “Brought you something. Only if you behave.”
Nancy snatched the candy out of my grip. “Would’ve much more preferred a pack of Marlboros. You got any on you?”
“Your lungs are already functioning at thirty percent capacity. Do you want to wheel an oxygen tank around?” I slipped my hand into my pant pocket. “Besides, I quit. Years ago. I told you.”
For a moment, the only sound between us was the rustling of plastic as Nancy fought to unwrap the candy. “Good. Nasty habit. And everyone knew you were just doing it for teenage rebellion—tacky, that.”
“I’m sure you did worse.”
“I did do worse. It’s much more fun to flirt with men than with lung cancer.” She grumbled. “Today, it’s Yvette. Friday, it was Alice. The day before that, it was Brenda. When’s your mother coming to pay her fairy godmother a visit?”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“Tell her if she wants to harass me into selling her the land that hotel of hers sits on, she’s running out of time.” Nancy began to wheeze with effort.
With heavy sarcasm, I said, “How sweet that they’re worried about you.”
She then attempted to tear the chocolate open with her teeth. “Worried about something . Funny that my ‘declining health’ and ‘making sure my affairs are in order’ comes up in every conversation with them. Piranhas, the lot of them.”
“I haven’t asked yet. Are your affairs in order?”
“I wish I could see the looks on their faces when they find out I left everything all to charity. Even the land your parents’ hotel is on. Waiting over my will only—stupid wrapper—only to see that they’re not getting a cent.”
I smiled a little already thinking about it. “I’ll enjoy the view for you.”
Nancy tried tearing the chocolate one last time before she let out an exasperated sound. “Are you just going to sit here and watch a poor old lady struggle?” Her tone was a snarl.
I took the candy from her and tore open the wrapper, ignoring how easy it’d been. I passed it back to her without looking, focusing on the pond. The water had grown murky over the years, with algae skimming the top. It looked more swampy than manmade. Beautiful in its prime, but aging poorly.
“You’ve been back for a week, and you’re only just coming to visit me,” Nancy grumbled as she chewed, not caring in the slightest about the politeness of it. “Too busy for me, huh?”
“I’ve been busy attending fundraisers. Ones that you skipped.”
“I heard about that. I also heard about your little tryst last night.” Nancy gave an almost witch-like laugh. “Macking on the waitstaff. Can’t say I haven’t done it myself a time or two, but never right out in the open. That sort of thing never did it for me.”
Of course it had gotten back to her. I wondered who spilled the beans about it, and when they would’ve had the time. Ms. Jennings, most likely. I couldn’t imagine Yvette in there recounting the tale with Nancy; she’d have to have known that Nancy would’ve been on my side. Gossiping wasn't fun unless people could swap judgment back and forth.
“Was he handsome, at least?”
I pictured Sumner Pennington’s lopsided smile when we parted ways this morning. “Passably.”
“ Passably , ha. Send him to me if you’re going to be so picky.”
Now that was a mental image I smiled at, though I tried to tuck the corners of my mouth down as quickly as possible.
“Tell me about him,” she said, turning to squint up at me. Her eyes were rimmed with deep wrinkles, but her face lacked the fullness it once had. A perpetual tiredness clung to her features now, weighing down the brightness in her gaze. “Does he have a good tush?”
“I didn’t get a chance to look,” I said.
Nancy’s lips curled with disappointment. “You kissed a man and you didn’t grab the goods? Was he not your type?”
“You know I’ve never had a type.” Sumner, though, could’ve fallen into it if I’d had one, perhaps. He was pretty enough, in a way that didn’t brim with an arrogant elegance. He actually made eye contact. Actually looked at me as if I were more than a shadow.
“That Aaron fellow—he still interested in you after that spectacle?”
“As of right now, according to my parents, yes.”
Nancy nodded slowly, sagely, munching along on her chocolate. “Hubert and I had a marriage like that, you know. Arranged. My mama and his mama really did most of the deciding. Worked out well enough.”
I peered at her from the corner of my eye. “He died early.”
“As I said, worked out well enough. He was at least handsome enough to look at while he was alive.” She balled the wrapper up in her fist and laid it on the blanket covering her lap. Her skin was so pale, the backs of her hands looking as if they were bruised. “He probably hoped I’d die first, that snake. But look at me now. Just turned ninety and still kicking.”
It was the sort of future that awaited me, my husband and I both hoping the other would pass first. “I’m not bothered by the idea of marrying Aaron.” I shifted my weight onto another foot, finding it hard to stand still. “At least I won’t be alone.”
I hated how pathetic the words were, but since it was just Nancy, I wasn’t too embarrassed. She always seemed to know what I was thinking before I spoke anyway, but in a more refreshing way than my mother. I felt clear minded even when we were like this, not facing each other, staring out at the pond that stretched before us. We only focused on our voices and the way the sun’s rays reflected off the faint ripple in the water.
Nancy coughed, but it quickly turned into a hacking sound that had her doubling over. I stood rigid beside her, drawing in a breath and holding it while. The wrapper in her lap fluttered to the ground. Just as I decided the fit was going on too long, just when I was about to run back inside to get her something to drink, it cleared. “By God,” she exclaimed breathlessly .
My heart pounded, and I forced my chin to the side, trying to calm the brimming panic. “Those pack-a-day cigs are catching up to you.”
She cleared her throat a few more times, her wheezing breaths slowly returning to normal. “Being alone is a choice,” she said finally, not looking at me. Her gaze, too, fixed back on the pond, as if all answers rested beneath the surface. “It isn’t forced upon you like you think it is, Margot. You can choose to be alone, or you can choose to have people in your life.”
I thought of my mother, her grip on my chin earlier this morning. “People don’t want me in their lives.” Except for Aaron Astor.
“Then find someone who does. That’s your choice.” Nancy reached down and laid her hands on the handles of her wheelchair, her grip looking frail as she tried to maneuver it around. She was decidedly finished with viewing the water. “You’ve already got one person to try with.”
I reached for the back handles of her wheelchair. “Who?”
She swatted at my arm hard enough to sting. Not that frail, apparently. “Get your hands off,” she snapped in her usual grouchy tone, but continued on. “The waiter boy. The one you already kissed.”
“You mean Sumner.”
“Sumner, eh? Interesting name.” She huffed as she wheeled toward the house. I followed just behind her, resting my hand on one of the handles, urging her along as unnoticeably as possible. “Yes, I mean him. Go make friends with him, and I might consider putting you in my will.”
“I’m sure if you gave Ms. Jennings that opportunity, she’d jump on it.”
“She’d jump more things than that,” Nancy muttered with a shake of her head, but I saw her lips raise a little at her joke. She made her way to the back door ramp, and we went up it. When we got to the door, though, she wheeled herself inside but stopped just over the threshold, refusing to let me enter. “Go. Make a friend. And check out his tush this time for me, would you? If it’s a nice one, send me a picture.”
With that, Nancy snapped the sliding glass door shut, flipping over the lock with no remorse.