Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Mo kept his hands on the keyboard and his face pointed at the monitor. But he wasn’t seeing anything except Bronwyn’s face. She was so expressive. Or was she? Maybe it was that, even after all these years, he could read her emotions. At least, he could when she wasn’t trying to keep them from him.
When June had brought in the lunch, Bronwyn’s expression had morphed from confusion to delight and then consternation, landing on what he decided was confused delight when she realized what was happening.
She was softening up. Hopefully she appreciated his efforts on her behalf.
He would have liked to spend the afternoon thinking of more ways to remind her he could be a good guy.
Unfortunately, the look on her face when she talked about the interview this afternoon didn’t give him warm and fuzzy feelings.
He could focus on being charming later. For now, his priority was to keep her safe.
There was something . . . off about the whole thing. Had she ever granted a reporter an interview before?
A quick web search gave him the answer. Surprisingly enough, yes.
There were quite a few interviews about The Haven.
But they were presented in a way that protected the resort and the town from scrutiny.
He read through an interview she had done last year and tried to read it as if he’d never heard of The Haven before.
Based on the information provided, he drew two conclusions.
One, the place was far out of his price range.
And two, it was somewhere in the mountains of either North Carolina or Tennessee, maybe even Georgia, but he wasn’t sure exactly where.
In this day and age, keeping The Haven off the map would prove difficult, if not futile. Maybe Bronwyn’s goal wasn’t to keep it hidden but to minimize the impact on the community. That would make sense.
Mo shot June a text.
What is the name of the reporter B has an interview with?
Seconds later, she replied.
Peter Brown
Mo snorted. Fake name. Had to be. Peter Brown? The only way it could have been worse was if it had been John Smith.
What’s the name of his media outlet?
June’s reply took a bit longer this time. He continued to work while he waited. His phone pinged.
Obscure Opulence
A few more minutes of digging and he was unsurprised by what he saw. The magazine was real enough, but they didn’t have anyone named Peter Brown listed as writing for them.
Did he send you authentication for who he is and what he’s up to?
The request came from William Pierce. I assumed he was legit. Do you think he isn’t? I could ask for more info. I could say I’m helping Ms. Pierce prepare for the interview.
Mo considered the risks and decided they were minimal.
Go ahead. Let me know what you learn. Thank you.
Not a problem.
Bronwyn stood and let out a small groan as she patted her stomach. She piled her empty dishes onto the cart and wheeled it into the hall. “I shouldn’t have eaten so much, but it was delicious.”
Mo heard the words coming from the front desk but knew they weren’t directed at him.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” June said. “But Mr. Quinn gets the credit.”
“I’ll have to thank him too.”
“Yes, ma’am. He was very specific. It’s so sweet the way he’s looking out for you.”
Bronwyn’s reply was too low for him to hear. But then she said, “I’m going to freshen up. I’ll be out of here in the next ten minutes or so. Please make sure the interview space is ready for our guest by three. I’d like to get this over with as soon as possible.”
“Of course.”
Mo waited two minutes before he shut down the computer, grabbed his iPad, and walked into the reception area of the office. June quirked an eyebrow at him.
“I’m going with her,” he said.
“Does she know that?”
“Yes.”
“Seems like she might be giving you the slip.”
“She can try.”
June rolled her eyes. “She usually gets her way.”
“Who gets her way?” Bronwyn paused at June’s desk. Mo wasn’t sure what she’d freshened up. Maybe her lips? They were glossy, and . . . he was going to stop looking at them.
“You do,” June answered.
“She’s always been that way.” Mo winked at June. “Remind me to tell you about the time she talked me into—”
“Whatever he was about to say, it isn’t true.”
Mo looked at Bronwyn, then back to June. He stage-whispered, “We’ll talk later.”
June looked between Mo and Bronwyn and then grinned. “You two are a trip. Mr. Quinn, I hope you’ll be around more often.”
“I’ll be here tomorrow as well. After that, we’ll have to see. At some point, she’s going to kick me out.”
June shook her head. “Not if I can stop her.” She gave Bronwyn a sassy grin. “Ms. Pierce, I got word from hospitality that the interview room is ready for you. I’ll message you when Mr. Brown arrives.”
“Thank you.” Bronwyn checked her watch. “I’m going to head to Hideaway and check in with Cassie. Then I’ll visit the front desk. Depending on how long that takes, I may or may not make it to housekeeping before the interview.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Did she need to give June the play-by-play? Or was that for his benefit? Either way, he was glad to know the plan.
Bronwyn grabbed her iPad from the conference room table, took a deep breath, and walked down the hall. Mo took a position slightly to her left and stayed there until they walked into Hideaway’s kitchen.
“Mo!” Cassie’s smile had been infectious since she was a baby. “What’s my favorite cousin doing here?”
“I came to see you, of course.”
“Yeah, right. You saw me yesterday.”
“It’s already been too long.”
Cassie removed her apron and spoke to Bronwyn. “It’s the quiet ones you have to look out for.” She walked to him, and Mo opened his arms. Cassie snuggled in, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“How’s married life?” Mo asked.
The answer was obvious. Her glow was enough to brighten any room, but he wanted to hear her answer anyway. He wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but aside from Cal, Cassie really was his favorite Quinn cousin.
“Amazing! As you already know since you asked me yesterday.” Cassie looked toward the ceiling. “Save me from overprotective cousins.” Then she looked at Bronwyn. Mo didn’t know what she saw, but Cassie’s eyes widened. “Okay, okay. I know. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”
“And I will continue to point that out anytime you start acting put upon when you’re so loved, you bump into it everywhere you go.” Bronwyn’s reply made Mo think this was an ongoing conversation between the two of them.
“You’re loved too, Bronwyn.”
Bronwyn’s response wasn’t a grin or a joke. She changed the subject entirely. “How’s everything here today? Anything I need to know about?”
Mo tuned out most of the conversation after that. Did Bronwyn not believe she was loved?
To be fair, there were few people on earth as loved as a Quinn. The family was loving, affectionate, and not shy about it. But Bronwyn was . . .
Bronwyn was . . . what?
Her grandmother loved her. But that lady had spent her lifetime manipulating everyone and everything around her to the point that it was hard to tell if her motivations were pure or not.
Her parents loved her but not the way parents should. Mo had disappointed his mom and dad on more than one occasion. He’d had a multi-year run of disappointments after Bronwyn left. And then, when she came back, they were disappointed in him again.
Not that they’d ever said that. They loved him through all his faults and foibles. They loved him when he made them proud and when he made them despair. He’d grown up certain of that.
Bronwyn had not.
Her extended family didn’t love her. They loved that she could bring in money. They loved that she ran The Haven so well they could go on vacations and live their lives without worry. But Bronwyn herself? No. They didn’t love Bronwyn for who she was.
Her friends . . . well, Cal and Landry and Meredith loved her. And had never wavered in that love.
The kids adored her. Eliza’s “Aunt Bronwyn” had nearly killed him from a cuteness overload.
She was loved. And loved deeply.
But that didn’t mean she felt loved.
Mo couldn’t shake the way that saddened him. He followed her from Hideaway’s kitchen to the front desk to housekeeping, watching how she interacted with the staff.
They adored her.
But did she see it?
Somehow, he didn’t think she did.
Bronwyn had been speaking to the surprisingly young head housekeeper, Adeline, for five minutes when her phone rang. She glanced at it, then at Mo, and her entire body deflated. She turned back to Adeline. “Well, it’s time for me to go be charming.”
“You’re always charming.” Adeline’s grin was cheeky.
“Hah.” She pointed at Mo. “He could tell you stories.”
Interest lit Adeline’s face. “Do tell.”
Mo went with an innocent look. “I have no idea what she’s talking about. Bronwyn Pierce is always the epitome of grace and beauty. Well, she is now. But I’ve known her since we were five, and we all go through an awkward phase.”
“My awkward phase included braces and truly bad hair decisions.” Bronwyn laughed.
“Your hair is phenomenal,” Adeline said. “I can’t imagine—”
“Pixie cut.” Bronwyn grimaced, and Adeline couldn’t hide her shock.
“No way.”
“It was cute.” Mo spoke before he could stop himself.
Bronwyn shook her head. “Nightmare.”
Adeline turned to Mo. “I bet it was cute.”
“It was.” Mo was firm in his response. “But I wasn’t sad when she let it grow out.”
“It was the growing out that was the worst!” Bronwyn shuddered. “Okay. On that dreadful thought, I’m out of here.”
Bronwyn walked into the press room with Mo on her heels. She’d been dreading having him along today, but he’d somehow managed to turn what could have been a stilted and challenging afternoon into one filled with laughter and mostly good memories.
The smile on her face was genuine as she greeted her interviewer. “Mr. Brown, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He took her hand and, instead of shaking it, lifted it to his lips and kissed it. “The pleasure is mine, I’m sure.”