Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
T he lobby of the country club was bustling today, a Sunday afternoon. I felt ghostly sitting in the plush chair, watching everyone mill about. Workers carrying towels, mothers pulling the hands of their children toward the daycare, men chattering with their golf gloves hanging out of their back pockets. I watched it all silently, waiting for someone to glance over at me and make eye contact. No one did.
I flipped a page in my fashion magazine, studying the fabrics and textiles used in the pictures to avoid thinking about the world around me. I picked at the sleeve of my black long-sleeved shirt in a self-soothing comfort, my cool-toned floral-printed vest keeping my posture straight. My navy dress pants, despite the heat, were a loose wool fabric, flowy in a way that they seemed more casual than business.
I forced myself to recount my outfit from top to bottom, over and over again, reminding myself that I was put together. I was refined. I did belong here.
Last night had passed in a blur after I’d returned from the coat closet without Sumner in tow. It’d been a whirlwind of bouncing from person to person, introducing them to Aaron and allowing them to gush over the newness of a fresh face. My mother accompanied us the entire time, and the short dance we’d shared had been the only time we’d been left alone.
Which prompted Aaron, when we parted ways at the elevator, to ask if we could meet the next morning. “I’d love to do something with you tomorrow,” he’d said. “Shall we meet in the lobby in the morning?”
I’d agreed, though I hadn’t really had a choice—my mother had been standing there when he asked. She had been disappointed that the night had ended without a ring on my finger. My parents had swept into my room to debrief, picking apart every scant piece of conversation we’d been able to share alone. They also came up with a plan of attack for the next afternoon—what I would say to Aaron, how I would act, to lock down his heart.
They’d been speaking and speaking, but I couldn’t focus on them until I’d heard Sumner’s hotel room door open, and it’d been well after midnight.
What he’d been doing for the two hours since we’d left the ballroom, I had no idea. I told myself not to be curious.
That didn’t work. Despite everything, I was awake all night, straining to hear the slightest sound through the walls. I listened and listened until Sumner’s alarm began blaring in its wake-up call, and I realized I’d spent the entire night thinking about someone who was not thinking about me.
Now, I flipped another page in my fashion magazine, turning my head to the side, trying to fight off a cringe. Even just thinking his name caused discomfort to bloom in my chest, following by the rushing sting of embarrassment.
While crushes weren’t things I entertained, rejection was not an unfamiliar notion. I never did much to put myself out on a limb, but I’d spent most of my life on the outskirts of the in-crowd, scorned and spurned for not conforming. Sumner’s rejection, though, hit me differently. Hurt me differently. I didn’t realize just how much I wanted him to tell me to drop everything to be with him until he didn’t say it. Until he pulled me away. I was paid to be at your side. I wouldn’t be here… if not for that .
I closed my eyes and winced again.
Sumner’s laugh suddenly floated down the hallway, and I heard him before he stepped into view from where I sat. He came from one of the main country club hallways with two women at his heel, all three of them wearing matching Alderton-Du Ponte teal polos and smiles. I recognized two of the women as servers from past events, similar to my age. Blonde. Tall. Pretty. Prettier when they smiled.
I turned back around in my chair and slumped low, though the low-backed seat would do nothing to fully obscure me. If I got up and tried to escape back into the hotel now, he’d surely see me. Him and his gaggle of little groupies, apparently.
The rise of my ire was ridiculous, of course. I wouldn’t have felt so strongly if Sumner had been laughing with two other guys on the staff. Maybe I would’ve. Maybe I would’ve resented anyone he smiled at, when I’d grown comfortable with the thought that he saved it only for me.
But he hadn’t. He never smiled at me for anything more than politeness. Friendship. Because he was paid to smile at me.
“Your life is just so interesting,” one of the girls gushed. “You’re so well-traveled. I haven’t ever left Addison.”
“Same here,” the other one replied. “California, England, Spain—it’s all quite the adventure.”
I frowned a little as I eavesdropped, certain I had locked onto the wrong conversation until Sumner replied. “It’s been quite the jam-packed life, that’s for sure.” The smile in his voice was practically audible. “It’s nice to slow down for a change.”
England and Spain? Sumner had been to those places? He’d never mentioned it to me before. A different thought occurred to me, in a bitter way; Sumner had traveled more than I ever had? When? I thought him making his way into Addison after quitting his job was the first time traveling outside of California. He’d traveled the world?
My heart hardened further. Apparently, he’d been right. I didn’t really know him much at all.
“Margot?”
For half a second, I debated on ignoring him. Bracing myself, I lifted my head to where he stood ten feet away, and even though I didn’t want to, I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Mr. Pennington,” I greeted, closing my fashion magazine and sitting up straighter. “You were working today? ”
I had to be horrifyingly transparent.
The two girls who stood beside Sumner lost their smiles at the sight of me, a reaction I was long since used to. They even looked as if they wanted to turn and walk in the opposite direction, but it was too late; I’d already risen from the chair and sauntered over. “You seem awfully relaxed to be on the clock.”
“W-We were just coming back from break,” one girl got out, struggling to maintain her even tone. “We ran into Sumner in the hallway.”
I tilted my stare toward her, not saying a word. It made her nearly cower.
“What are you doing in the lobby?” Sumner asked at once, oblivious to the tension, taking in my suit. He had a frown on his features now, worlds different from the smile on his face moments ago. “You’re supposed to call me when you leave your room.”
He couldn’t have thought I’d call him after last night. Confessing my feelings was bad enough, but the fact that I kissed him just made his presence more unbearable. “To Gilfman’s,” I replied flatly, slipping a hand into my pocket. “I have a fitting for the wedding next Saturday. You left my car at the country club’s valet, if you remember.”
“You didn’t say anything yesterday.”
“I had other things on my mind yesterday.”
At that, I could’ve sworn Sumner flushed.
The two other staff members had been bouncing back and forth between us as if we were a tennis match, their expressions growing increasingly shocked. Perhaps because Sumner wasn’t cowering beneath the imposing stare of Margot Massey. Perhaps because no one was being turned to stone with just one glance at me. Perhaps because I hadn’t fired anyone on the spot yet.
“We—we can tell Mr. Massey that Miss Margot needs your assistance,” one of the staff members said, the one who’d spoken a moment ago. She was the one that stood the closest to Sumner. The one who’d had her hand on his back as they’d walked into the lobby.
Maybe she was the reason he turned me down. Maybe he preferred this bubbly blonde over me, who contained nothing but ire.
Sumner shook his head “No, I can go tell him?—”
“You aren’t coming.”
My tone was blunt and unmissable, and it caused Sumner to blink. The way he stared at me was almost like we were the only two in the conversation, the other girls forgotten. “You’re not supposed to go anywhere by yourself.”
“She won’t be alone,” a voice cut in as a shadow fell over my shoulder. “I’m going with her.”
The group we’d gathered all turned to find Aaron Astor sauntering up from the direction of the elevator, a half-smile smirking his lips. His outfit was summery, with a striped buttonless polo, a pair of chinos that hemmed high on his ankle, expensive boat shoes to top it off. He looked like the epitome of someone who would be wandering about the Alderton-Du Ponte Country Club. He fit in perfectly.
“Wow,” Aaron exclaimed, his eyes roaming my figure. “The rumors about the way you dress were true, apparently. Lovely. Reminds me of my mother a little. ”
How my stock Gilfman design could compare to his mother’s original Malstoni was beyond me, but I didn’t comment on it. “She has good taste, your mother.”
“And so do I, apparently.” Aaron turned his attention to Sumner, mirth entering his eyes. “Mr. Pennington.”
Sumner, though, held no amusement in his expression. “Mr. Astor.”
The two other girls who’d been sticking around chose then to titter off with polite smiles, and Aaron tipped his head at their departure. It left the three of us alone, though not truly; a quick scan of the lobby proved that eyes of those in the space were on us, trying to soak it all in to gossip about later.
The only word that could describe the way I felt, with Aaron and Sumner looking at each other, was awkward . I tried not to let it show as I turned to Aaron. “You ready?”
Aaron brightened. “I am. I’m excited to explore your quaint little area a bit more.”
“You’ll be majorly unimpressed,” I promised him. I took a step forward, but instead of just Aaron following, Sumner also moved.
Aaron raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t coming along as well, are you?”
“I’m to accompany Margot any time she leaves the grounds,” Sumner said in a formal voice. “She’s not supposed to go anywhere without me.”
“Your services are probably no longer required, Mr. Pennington. Now that I’m here.”
“Her parents didn’t say my presence was conditional on yours.”
Aaron turned to look at Sumner head on. “ Maybe we should call her parents, then.” While Aaron was an inch shorter than me, he was several shorter than Sumner, facing off in a power struggle I was already done with. “I’d hate for you to be a third wheel.”
“Or are you worried you’ll be the awkward one left out?” It was ironic how much Sumner combated Aaron, given how he reacted in the coat closet the night prior. “Because she knows me better than you.”
Sumner, trying so hard to show up Aaron, irked me more than the other man. “I doubt my mother would want you tagging along,” I told Sumner. “Aaron and I would get to know each other far easier without a chaperone.”
I’d said the words as if they’d hurt Sumner, as if they were salt that I could rub into a wound, but it wasn’t his skin that was broken. It was mine. My words did nothing but prove to be a reminder of the way we left things yesterday; they did nothing but remind me that I was alone in the way I felt. I was paid to be at your side. I wouldn’t be here… if not for that .
I didn’t look at him as I offered my fashion magazine out. “Take this to my room, would you?”
Wordlessly, Sumner took the magazine, freeing up my hand to slip around Aaron’s arm. Aaron tipped his head in an almost smug manner before escorting me away, toward the front doors. I forced myself to stare straight and told myself I’d rather die than look back. I refused to look to see if Sumner stood staring after us. I’d rather die.
I’d made it to the automatic doors that greeted Aaron and me with warm summer air before impulse took control. Almost as if my body was hijacked, I glanced over my shoulder, wanting to see Sumner’s expression, wondering what it looked like.
He was nowhere in sight. Thirty seconds had passed, and he wasn’t standing there anymore, already having left to run my errand and get back to work.
My fist of a heart hardened further.
Aaron was less than impressed by the view of the bay, but then again, coming from the grandness of living ocean side, it most likely was like looking at a pond to him. One not nearly as expansive and blue. The tailoring session at Gilfman Clothier went off without a hitch, and Jordan had successfully helped bring another design of mine to life.
Aaron, though, seemed tickled by my choice. “Cream for a wedding?” he’d asked when I’d stepped out from behind the curtain, his eyes roaming over my figure. It had been similar to the way Sumner had the time I’d brought him; and then I’d scolded myself for thinking about Sumner. “A little close to white, no?”
“It’s beige,” I’d corrected, but felt a little smug looking in the mirror. “Though if anyone gets confused, maybe they’ll think Annalise and I got married.”
Aaron had lifted his maple whisky to his lips, his smile distorted by the glass.
Once we finished at the fitting, instead of going to Pierre’s for lunch—because I was more likely to win the lottery than to win last-minute reservations for a Sunday afternoon—we returned to the country club to dine at their outdoor restaurant.
“I will say, I am a little surprised.” Aaron came around and pulled out the chair for me, gesturing me to sit. “I’d meant it mostly as a joke earlier, but this area is quaint. You don’t strike me as the quaint sort.”
In the orchestrated dance, I sat down, and Aaron pushed in the chair as I did so. “I only just finished college. I’m sure I’ll branch out sometime.”
“Like California?”
I took in his hopeful expression. “Perhaps.”
He rounded the small table and sat across from me, the intrigue clear on his face. “You know, I’ve been debating asking about it all day. About your secretary. He’s a bit young, no?”
“There’s an age limit to secretaries?” I said in a voice that made it clear I wasn’t interested in pursuing the conversation further.
“No, no, just is… interesting.”
It was clear he was hoping for a nonchalant expression now, but his insecurity shined through in the constant shifting of his eyes, bouncing around. It was another interesting thing about Aaron Astor that I hadn’t been expecting. Though I hadn’t had high hopes for his looks, I still expected a man with more confidence, used to getting what he wanted. Why else assume I’d be yapping at his heels the second he showed up, even though he hadn’t ever bothered speaking to me directly? But the man before me definitely didn’t possess the sort of confidence I’d been expecting, though he tried to prove otherwise.
The waitress came over then and delivered us menus and waters, fluttering off to give us a moment. “You drank that maple whisky at the clothier,” I said to Aaron, crossing my legs underneath the table. “Do you drink often?”
“Not too often,” he replied leisurely, mimicking my posture and reclining further into his seat. When he did it, though, he couldn’t quite abandon all of his stiffness. “Mostly whisky here and there, and the occasional wine. Red, of course. The correct answer is always red.”
I disagreed, and normally would’ve voiced my opinion, but I kept it to myself. Pulling my punches to start might’ve been the correct way to play this. “I prefer water over wine,”
I said, picking up the sweating glass to punctuate this.
Aaron picked up his own glass. “Cheers, then.”
The server came back over then, asking if we were ready to order. Aaron went first, ordering the braised salmon for himself, and when the server turned to me, he cut back in. “She’ll have the chicken giardiniera,” he said, eyes on the menu. “With the mashed potatoes and grilled asparagus. Do the potatoes come with garlic butter?”
The server nodded.
“None on them, then, please. For hers and for mine.” To me, Aaron gave a breathy laugh. “Can’t have garlic breath, can we?”
It was strange, listening to him order for me. Normally, someone did it out of a show of dominance—that was how my parents were—but with Aaron, his voice lacked the authoritative tone that I expected in this sort of situation. It was almost hesitant, as if he’d been waiting for me to cut him off.
When the waitstaff departed to put in our orders, Aaron swirled his water in his glass as if it were wine, voice delicate as he said, “I’ve heard you’re a straightforward person, Margot Massey. I like to think I am as well. Shall we jump straight into the thick of things?”
“By all means.”
“I’ve heard you’re not too interested in pursuing anything with me.”
If I’d been taking a sip of water, I would’ve choked on it. It’d quite possibly been the last thing I’d expected to come from his mouth, but he’d said it with no hesitation. My parents had gone to great lengths to keep my personal feelings of it under wraps. Who would’ve known? More specifically, who would’ve known that had contact with the Astors? Yvette? “Where did you hear that?”
Aaron fluttered his hand by his ear. “A little bird, is all. I’d like to hear those concerns of yours, if you’re willing to open yourself to me.”
I made a face, both at the horrendous phrasing and the fact that he unknowingly echoed what my parents had done the week prior. Brought me to Pierre’s, sat me down, and asked me to “voice my concerns.” Now, though, it was much more awkward since the person I was voicing my concerns to coexisted with the root of the problem.
“I think you and I are in a very unique position,” he went on when I took too long to answer. “Both of us are going into this with no preconceived notions. I, Margot, am not looking for love, and I’ve got a feeling you aren’t either.”
A frown formed on my brow. “I was under the impression that you were,” I replied. “That you saw me at the Christmas party in New York and fell in love.”
“I did see you there, and was immediately intrigued.”
“Intrigued, but not enough to come over and talk to me.”
“I’m a bit of an introvert,” he said with a chuckle. “And you do have an intimidating air to you, darling, you must admit. But when I heard your story, and—well. It intrigued me further. Only child of two self-made parents who were more dedicated to building their career than creating a warm environment for their daughter. Parents who, despite only having one heir, had no intention of leaving the business to their daughter.”
He spoke in such a matter-of-fact way, so nonchalantly, that I almost didn’t even realize what he was saying. My eyes narrowed. “What, did you have a background check run on me?”
“Oh, no, no, I’d never do such a thing. The people around here do enjoy their gossip, you know. My best friend is marrying the daughter of someone who’s on the board of directors for Alderton-Du Ponte’s Country Club. I’ve heard a lot of things. Besides, I’m from this world, too. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to read between the lines.”
It was funny—I couldn’t care less about Aaron knowing about the tumultuous relationship between my parents and me, but I had practically crumpled from the embarrassment when Sumner found out. Interesting. “And my sad upbringing was intriguing to you?”
“Your isolation intrigued me.”
I couldn’t help but think how lonely you looked. So it hadn’t just been Sumner who had noticed. How was it that complete strangers could see but no one else? “That sounds vaguely offensive.”
“I, too, have lived much of my life feeling on the outskirts of things. No one bothers to talk about business holdings with the bottom of the pyramid, you know? I’ve always felt like an outcast, too.” Aaron leaned forward across the table and laid his elbow on the surface. “My parents think I’m in this because I fell head over heels for you. My friends, too. The only one who knows the truth now, Margot, is you.”
“Why tell me? Why not attempt to woo me?”
“I’ve learned, in the very brief time that I’ve known you, you aren’t one easily wooed.” He gave a little smile. “And since arriving here, I’ve discovered it might be in more of my interest to appeal to your mind than your heart. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how positively this will impact both of our parents’ companies, merging our families and our business ventures. Massey Hotels with Astro Agencies is a beautiful marriage itself.”
The spiel he gave me sounded like my father, as if he were presenting a business proposal at a meeting. I was almost surprised he hadn’t broken out a PowerPoint. The evening, perhaps, was still young. “That’s why you were never interested in getting to know me. You just want to marry me because your family’s business will benefit.”
“I don’t care about my family’s business,” Aaron replied in a candid manner. “I’m fifth in line to receive anything from it. No,” he went on with a shake of his head. “I don’t care about Astro Agencies. What I care about, Margot, is Massey Suites.”
Despite the sheer audacity of it all, a slow, understanding smile spread across my lips. “You want to marry me to inherit my parents’ company.”
Aaron Astor looked like a child given the number one present from their wish list. “You understand me.”
The gall this man could muster, and to wield it so boldly, was almost impressive.
My mother must’ve warned the waitstaff to give us their prime service, because they served our plates in record time. The smile remained on my face as I watched them set everything out, and if the tension hadn’t completely dissolved before, it did now. The importance of this meeting, the importance of impressing the infamous Aaron Astor, was pretty much void now. I could’ve let out a sigh of relief as I reached for my silverware, picking up my fork and knife and beginning to transfer them to the other sides of the plate.
Aaron’s hand shot out and covered my right hand. “That’s correct,” he said, gently, as if he was afraid of embarrassing me. “The way they have it placed. It’s correct.”
“I know,” I returned in a soft voice that mimicked his, holding my fork in my right hand.
“You learned how to hold silverware incorrectly?”
“No.”
We stared at each other for a moment. Aaron seemed perplexed, but instead of pushing the issue, he seemed to force himself to segue back into the conversation. “It is scary, I suppose,” he continued. “Tying our lives together when we barely know each other. I can see why you might be hesitant about it. That’s why I came out a week before the wedding—so we could spend more time together. I also had some documents drafted up.”
Oh, my mother definitely had been in contact with the staff, or at least Aaron had, because when he turned around, a man—whom I hadn’t noticed until that moment—stepped out from where he’d been at the bar. The man handed Aaron a leatherbound file holder. It was all very pretentious.
Aaron laid it down on the side of the table where our plates didn’t touch. Not a PowerPoint, but close.
I stared at it, and though my curiosity overwhelmed me, I didn’t reach for it. Toward him, I only arched a brow.
“An unofficial prenup. Not of business holdings, of course, as that will go through our parents’ lawyers, but one in the more personal sense. What we can expect from each other as we move forward in this venture.”
No wonder he had trouble finding a partner, if he talked to women like this. It was a good thing he wasn’t attempting to woo me; this would’ve been a poor start.
Upon opening the file, it was immediately obvious he’d made this with his business account, since the company’s logo was at the top and their watermark embedded into the paper at the bottom. The paragraphs were blocky, written in the way a legal text would, and I scanned it slowly. “And you want me to sign to this?”
“Not now, of course,” he said, picking back up his water glass. “I want you to marinate on it, of course. Mull it all over. See if there are any points you’d like added or tweaked.”
I closed the folder and fixed him with my most serious stare, the poker face of all poker faces. “What if I were to tell you I wanted to go to fashion school?” I asked him. “That I wanted to live separate from you?”
“If pursuing fashion is a dream of yours, I’d support it. And if you’d prefer separate houses, we can look into that. Or we could style our own wings in a home—I’d get the east, you’d get the west. I’m willing to make compromises, darling.” He leaned forward across the table, his boyish grin resurfacing. “From what I know about you, Margot, I like you. I like how our worlds are aligning. We’re cut from the same cloth after all, you and I.”
My mind was still stuck on his offer of a compromise, surprised by it. “Are we now?”
“Raised in the same atmosphere, heading in the same direction in life. We would make quite a good fit. Hold each other up, keep each other on task. And isn’t that a quality of a suitable partner? You can have love, but a partner who can’t match your pace will not be able to keep up with you in the long run. And I think we’d keep up well with each other.”
The words did, in fact, belong on a PowerPoint slide. They seemed meaningful, beautiful, and if he’d spoken them under the pretense of romance, they might’ve someone else swoon. No, they would’ve . The words were perfectly designed for it. Sitting there, though, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d rehearsed them, had them written on the inside of his wrist and reread them before we sat down.
I felt for him, in a way—his desperation to make this work was clear. Less intense than my parents, but more prominent than I expected. My parents made it sound like impressing Aaron Astor would be the make it or break it moment, but I had a feeling I could’ve insulted the man to his face and he still would’ve been on his knees asking for my hand in marriage.
It was a strange thing to know I held all the power.
Aaron was waiting for my answer, blinking his dark eyes at me expectantly. “You’re not what I expected,” I told him, turning to my plate. “Not in the slightest.”
“And just how did you expect me?” he asked with a boyish smile.
I stared at him and the glint in his eye, thinking about just how well he’d fit in with the Alderton-Du Ponte society. He was charming, straightforward, and seemed to have everything planned out. He was not some man infatuated with me, nor a man uninterested in me. No, he was calculated—just as I was. He knew what he wanted, and he went for it, but unlike my parents, he wanted this to be a partnership rather than a dictatorship. It was interesting.
“I thought you’d be suffocating,” I said, and began eating my meal.
Aaron spent the rest of the dinner talking about himself, which I appreciated in a way, since I had been the one to go into this blind. He’d gone to an all-boy’s high school, studied abroad in London with a group of friends for his senior year, volunteered in Spain during a few of his summers. Whatever article Sumner had found on Aaron had been accurate.
As he spoke, I waited for the red flags to appear, but they didn’t pop up. Sure, it wasn’t normal to want to marry someone you didn’t love, but for Aaron, he was quite content with the idea. He told me how he’d never been interested in love in the first place, wasn’t sure he believed in it, and would much rather settle down without such a complicated emotion getting in the way.
It was all very interesting. While I never relished in the idea of marrying someone I didn’t love, I, too, had never been sure I’d ever felt it before. What I thought had been budding with Sumner hadn’t been that at all. You don’t like me. You just like the way I make you feel.
Perhaps Aaron Astor could make me feel that way, given time.
Spending just an hour or two with Aaron as he talked, and my lack of sleep the previous night, left me eager to go back to my hotel room. I wasn’t one for midday naps, but I wanted to take a long one now, to just fall down and sleep and sleep and sleep.
The second we walked into the country club’s lobby, I spotted Nancy with Ms. Jennings waiting in the same seating area I’d been earlier that day. Ms. Jennings spotted me first, and nudged Nancy, who’d been dozing off in her wheelchair. Ms. Jennings had to shake her shoulder, and the elderly woman startled awake, looking as if she’d forgotten where she was.
And then her gaze settled on me. “There you are!” she complained, drawing her knitted blanket further up her lap. “Making an old lady wait all this time. The world revolves around you, does it? And no one in this godforsaken place could find Hot Stuff, either. What’d you do, convince him to quit?”
Aaron looked between her and me with alarm. “Do—do you know this woman?”
He no doubt thought Nancy was a dementia patient with the way she was rambling, and a part of me wanted to allow him to continue assuming. “Nancy Du Ponte,” I said in a withering tone, gesturing toward her. “Owner of the Alderton-Du Ponte Country Club.”
Nancy regarded him with a twist to her lips, one that wasn’t happy. “And who might you be,
Ms. Jennings, though, had locked onto Aaron the moment she’d risen to her feet, and everything finally clicked into place for her. “Oh my!” she exclaimed loudly enough for her words to echo in the broad lobby. Her eyes sparkled with the swell of gossip, one she was the first to hear. “Is this handsome thing the Aaron Astor?”
I sighed, and the sound was most definitely a death rattle. It seemed my day wasn’t over yet after all.