Chapter 3
Vanessa
“Nicole, this is seriously the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.
” I inhale the scent of strawberries mixed with espresso and then take another slow sip, the sweet cream on top tickling the tip of my nose.
“You should forget this boring small town and move your coffee shop to a city that will fully appreciate it, like Seattle.”
“Hey!” Bri glares at me playfully. “Don’t be trying to steal my best friend from me.”
Nicole shakes her head and laughs. “As much as I miss you when you’re across the country, I kind of love it here.”
“Whatever.” I sigh. “Maybe I’ll open my own coffee-and-book shop in Seattle.”
Nicole looks at me, and we both laugh.
“Just kidding. We both know I can’t make a cup of drinkable coffee to save my life, and I’d rather sew and watch trashy TV than read.”
Thanks to my mother not having a single domestic bone in her body, I never learned to do the basic things like cook and clean.
And then I was sent to boarding school, where everything was done for me, and now I’m in college, where I live in an apartment-style dorm since it’s the cheapest option.
While my scholarship covers my tuition and meal plan, I have to pay for my books and dorm myself.
My roommate and I share a small living space that includes a living room and kitchen with a tiny eating area.
There’s a stove, fridge, and microwave, but with me double majoring and taking eighteen credits a semester and working part-time at the local pub, plus making custom clothing orders, I barely have time to breathe, let alone learn how to properly cook.
Thank goodness for the school cafeteria and the free meals at the pub I work at.
But I’m doing my thing and following my dreams, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Speaking of which, how’s school going?” Nicole asks, pulling out a chair and joining Bri and me.
When I arrived in Harbor Point last week for a visit before school started back up—at my mother’s insistence—I was dreading being stuck with her and her husband in their gaudy, over-the-top mansion the entire time.
But with Nicole opening her own coffee-and-book shop, Lattes and Words, it gave me a reason to get out of the house.
Even if my miserable excuse of a stepfather wasn’t pleased since he didn’t support Nicole going this route versus using the law degree he’d paid for.
And when I learned that her friend Bri had opened her own Pilates studio, I had to check it out, and I’ve become obsessed.
I’m not a fan of the gym—all those guys huffing and grunting and throwing weights around—but the classes at Club Serenity are relaxing while giving me a full-body workout.
I doubt I can afford to join a studio near me when I return to school, but I’m almost certain my school’s gym offers similar classes for free.
“It’s going well,” I tell her. “Once I start this semester, I’ll officially be a senior. Two semesters to go, and I’ll be a college graduate.”
“What are you majoring in?” Bri asks, taking a bite of her strawberry muffin.
“I’m double majoring in business and fashion design. I’d like to one day start my own clothing line and open a boutique that carries it, along with several other lines.”
Creating clothes is my passion. And the thought of getting to spend my life doing it while making a living has me giddy inside. I’m so close to graduating that I can practically taste it.
“And you should see her designs,” Nicole gushes, pulling out her phone and flipping through her photos. “She’s got style.”
She shows Bri several outfits I’ve made and sent to Nicole over the years, and Brielle praises each one, giving me a jolt of confidence. I’ve been interning for a local designer, and I’ve learned so much about the fashion world, but I know I still have a long way to go.
The fashion industry is not for the weak, but because it’s been a passion of mine since I was little—thumbing through my mom’s magazines that she’d live vicariously through when we lived in South Harbor Point and she was too broke to keep our electric on every month, let alone afford the clothes modeled in the magazines—I’ve been perfecting my craft over the years.
Since we couldn’t afford clothes like that, I used to watch YouTube videos at school and write down how to make my own clothes.
Miss Young—a sweet older woman who owned a small fabric and sewing shop in South Harbor Point—used to let me sweep her floors and dust in exchange for her giving me the leftover scraps.
I used them to make my own clothes and realized that I had a knack for it.
“She makes all her own clothes,” Nicole tells Bri. “Remember the cute sundress I wore to your gender reveal party? She’d made it.”
While I can’t stand Eric Vanderbilt, the man my mom latched on to—not because she was attracted to him and cared about him, but because he was loaded—his daughter and I have formed a friendship over the years.
To say she’s nothing like her father would be an understatement.
I didn’t know her mother when she was alive since our parents got together years later, but I’d imagine she’s ninety-nine percent her.
“Any chance you could make me a cute dress for our maternity shoot? I can’t find anything I love,” Bri complains. “I want to do something cute before the baby comes, and I found an awesome photographer, but everything looks so … pregnancy.”
Bri scrunches her nose up, and the three of us laugh.
“I could, but I would have to mail it to you. I’m only here for a few more days, and then I’m heading back to Seattle.”
“Already?” Nicole pouts.
“You know I’m only here because my mother summoned me.”
As much as I’d love to have a relationship with my mom, I’ve learned over the years that she has no desire to have one with me. I honestly don’t even know why she asked me to come here when she’s yet to spend any time with me.
Nicole nods in understanding, and a look of sympathy briefly crosses over her features before she reins it in.
“It’s all good,” I tell her, forcing a smile onto my face. “I get to spend time with you, and your company is way better than hers.”
My mother met Eric during my freshman year in high school.
While he fell for my mom instantly—and why wouldn’t he?
She’s twenty years younger, beautiful, and determined to be the perfect trophy wife—he wasn’t thrilled that we were a package deal.
And since all she wanted was to find a rich man to take care of her, I wasn’t about to mess that up for her.
When he insisted that I switch to an all-girls boarding school—not wanting his stepdaughter to be seen attending South Harbor Point’s public school and wanting me as far away from him as possible so he could set up his position to run for mayor—I went along with it, knowing it would help me get into a college of my choice as far away from here as possible.
And I was right. Three and a half years at that pretentious school, and I not only got into every school I’d applied to, but I got enough money in scholarships that I didn’t need a single dime from Eric for college.
My mother might be okay with a man supporting her, but I’ll be damned if I have to ever rely on a man for anything.
“I can take your measurements and notes on what you’re looking for and send you pictures along the way,” I tell Bri. “It shouldn’t take too long since school doesn’t start back up for a couple of weeks.”
“Really? I can totally pay you.”
“Just the cost of the material would be good. Honestly, I’ve never done a maternity outfit before, so it would be good practice.”
Thoughts of creating a beautiful maternity line swirl in my brain. Stylish dresses and cute rompers. I grab my phone and start typing to remind myself to check out various maternity lines, and Nicole laughs.
“I can practically see your creativity flowing.”
“You know designing clothes is my happy place.” I waggle my brows. “When would you need it by?” I ask Bri.
“I’m due in November, so I’d like to get the pictures done in October, when it cools down a bit.” Bri grins. “Can we do the measurements in a few days? We’re leaving tomorrow for the Bahamas for my wedding.” I glance down at her wedding ring, and she laughs. “We’re renewing our vows.”
Nicole snorts out a laugh, and I feel like I’m missing something here, but when neither of them explains, I let it go. I learned a long time ago to mind my business. It’s what keeps me out of trouble and off everyone’s—including my stepfather’s—radar.
“Oh! You should totally come,” Bri continues. “It’s only for three days.”
“I appreciate it, but I wouldn’t want to intrude.” And I can’t even imagine what the cost of a room would be wherever they’re staying.
“We booked an entire wing of the resort for privacy, so we have plenty of rooms available,” Bri says. “A private bar and a beach that’s within walking distance, and we’re not allowing anyone to pay for anything.”
Damn, that does sound nice … and I haven’t been on an actual vacation in …
well, ever. When I was growing up, we were too broke to go anywhere.
And once my mom snagged Eric, they shipped me off, and he always made sure I wasn’t there for any family vacations—not that I’m complaining because the thought of spending any more time than necessary with that man makes my skin crawl.
“You should totally go,” Nicole says. “We’ll have so much fun.”
“Really?” I give her a playful side-eye. “Me, you, and—”
The door opens, the bell chiming, and right on cue, in walks Nicole’s boyfriend, James.
According to her, they’ve only been dating for a short time, but they’re practically attached at the hip. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were engaged and married by the end of the year.
“James!” Nicole pops out of her seat and flies into her boyfriend’s arms.
He’s dressed in a suit since he’s an attorney, and I chuckle to myself, remembering what Nicole said when she told me about him.