Chapter Eleven
“The pink shirt looks handsome with the navy striped suit. Exquisite, if I may.”
“Not as exquisite as it would if you joined me in a dress, on my arm, and attended the event with me. One of these days you’re going to say yes, my darling.”
He winked at me from the three-way mirror, and I pretended to coyly shy away from his attention.
“You know I can’t, Baron,” was what I said.
I don’t want to, was what I whispered in my mind. Especially now…
Baron Andrews was a notorious flirt with extremely deep pockets. I mean, with a name like Baron, you had to be swimming in deep money and deeper family history, right?
He’d been one of my first customers, rushing in for a tie one rainy, slushy Tuesday. I’d only been working in the job for a few months, and I remembered the rain pelting and the slushy ground chilling me as I made my way into the store, thinking no one was going to shop today.
Right before lunch, Baron came storming in. He had a luncheon nearby and forgot a tie, and his assistant hadn’t refilled his office with shirts and ties—whatever that meant. I had no clue back then.
I’d found him a dark green tie—it was holiday time—and noticed a snagged stitch on his shirt. We got him set in a new shirt, tie all centered and ready to command attention, “Little Drummer Boy” playing in the background, and off he went. The following week he was back to buy a few suits, asking me to play our song. What song? I hadn’t a clue what he was going on about until “Little Drummer Boy” came back on, and he took me in his arms and swung me around.
Until then, Baron had been buying his clothes at another notable department store, he remarked, but he liked working with me. He’d been shopping and flirting exclusively with me for the last decade plus.
Which was why I couldn’t afford for the other man striding into the department to mess up the arrangement. I still had to pay bills.
“Frances!” His voice rumbled through the air and tickled my nerves.
Baron’s head perked up and he looked in the mirror at the spectacle behind him. Mack was approaching as fast as anyone could possibly do while weaving through a labyrinth of clothing racks and mannequins and displays.
“Frances!”
I swallowed whatever emotions were currently clogging my throat and said, “Mackenzie,” firmly and matter-of-factly.
“Are you double-timing me?” Baron joked, turning to face me and now an impatient-to-speak Mack standing by my side.
“I need to discuss something with you,” Mack said.
“Fashion emergency? I made an appointment. You should too,” Baron said.
Funny, but out of line.
“Hey buddy, sorry. Just have to steal Frances here for one quick second. Looks great, by the way.” Mack waved his hand in front of Baron.
“Frances? Frankie, you okay? Need me to call someone?”
Now Baron was tightening our circle as Mack inched closer to my side.
“She’s fine. I’m a friend. We know one another,” Mack eyed Baron while he spoke.
“I’m in the middle of a sales appointment,” Baron responded.
“I’m at work, Mack,” I said, staring down the man of my recent fantasies.
“Are you Mack Miller?” Baron interjected, his energy and tone taking a dramatic turn.
“Didn’t seem to bother you when I was at work…” This was directed at me. Mack had a point. I just didn’t cause a cock-off when I interrupted him at the mall or his office.
Running a hand through his jet-black hair, Baron spoke. “Delighted to meet you. Baron Andrews,” he said while holding his hand out. “Sorry for the gruffness. Can’t have my time with New York’s best men’s clothing lady interrupted. You’ve been on my radar for a long time. My family is in the import/export business, and I always wondered who does your international shipping.”
Mack reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “I have a logistics person who handles it, but let’s set up a meeting. Call my assistant.”
I wasn’t immune to deals being done in my department, but this was a whole new level of weirdness. Mack likely wanted to get rid of Baron, and would say whatever it took.
“Frankie, do you think the suede loafer? Or go total hipster in a sneaker with this?”
“Can I borrow her for one moment? Loafer, for sure,” Mack interjected.
“Hmm, yeah, loafer. Okay, make it quick. I need to get a pair of jeans for another event. A soiree at the zoo… Maybe you’ll say yes to that, Frankie. Go with me…”
Mack’s mouth pinched, and I said, “Come on, make it quick.” I dragged him toward the counter. “What’s got your tighty-whities in a bunch?”
He countered my question with a question. “Are you dating that doofus?”
I side-eyed him.
“Answer me.” His tone was authoritative and gruff.
“Why? You don’t do commitment. I can date who I want.”
Anger flashed in his eyes, followed by hurt, his mouth now turned down.
“No.” I touched his hand with my fingers. “No, I’m not. He’s a customer. And you’re interrupting, you know?”
“Okay,” he said before taking a deep breath. “My apologies. Look, this was urgent. Also, I don’t wear white tighties, or whatever you said.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I didn’t take you for a briefs kind of guy anyway.”
“Boxer briefs. Good ones,” he muttered.
“It’s okay, Mack, you don’t have to explain your underwear choices. Now what did you need?”
I had zero clue what was going on with us. It was Thursday. The last I’d seen or talked to him was when we had brunch on Sunday and he sent me home in his SUV, Alex driving and eyeing me from the front—checking that I was okay and not crying, I assumed. I wasn’t sure if I should contact Mack or if he would reach out to me. He’d been pretty tight-lipped about the letters after we left his place, but I could tell he was affected.
“I found her…” He spoke softly, his eyes on me.
“Who did you find?” We hadn’t even spoken about a her, other than his grandma.
I felt a headache coming on. Between the whiplash of everything that was Mackenzie Miller and his showing up at my work and Baron’s posturing, I needed some ibuprofen or a margarita.
“Connie.”
“Milly’s friend? That Connie? Constance?” A firework went off in my belly.
“Yes.”
“I haven’t heard from you in days…I don’t know why I blurted that out. I’m sorry. I’m not your keeper and you’re not mine.” Feeling myself spiral from the extreme emotions and happenings, I clamped my mouth shut.
“I had to go to London. I should’ve said something…and you’re right, you don’t need a keeper.”
I should’ve been flattered or smitten or I don’t know what with his ability to admit my independence, but I was too hung up on the first. “London? It’s only been five days since I last saw you— Never mind. London, that’s…I don’t know what that is. Never mind, tell me about Connie.”
He glanced over at Baron who was on the phone, no doubt with Corey, setting up a meeting with Mack.
“First, I told Corey about the letters. I hope that’s okay. I don’t have many people in my life I can trust, so I’m left with my overly personal assistant.”
He looked to me for some kind of approval and I nodded. I should be rushing back to my customer, but this felt monumental. Not just Connie, but Mack’s confiding in me.
“Well then, you know Corey, and he’s literally a man on a mission, starring in his own reality television show. And when I left Monday night for London, he set about finding Connie. I don’t know if he did any real work, and my schedule may be empty and correspondence unanswered, but he located the Constance Fiorello we read about.”
“Where is she? Can we see her?” I felt flushed. Surely it wasn’t normal to practically be coming out of my skin over this—bouncing on my toes, my heart racing—but it was all true.
“She’s ninety-two but has her full faculties. I know because Corey called her. And when he mentioned Milly, she went on and on about how she loved her, and they were best friends until her awful father got involved. Her awful father being my great-grandfather.”
I started clapping. “I’m sorry, I’m not cheering for your great-grandfather being mean.”
He smiled. “I know. I’m just putting your package together with a neat bow.”
“I need to go… Can you give me the information? I have to talk with her.”
“What?” he asked as if he was offended, and another look of hurt flashed across his face.
“I mean, do you want to go?”
“Of course I do. That’s why I rushed over here to give you the news.”
Baron cleared his throat and I said, “Coming, promise.”
“Saturday at noon.” Mack spoke softly and directly at me. “Then we will go out to celebrate, so hold the whole day.”
I didn’t know what it meant, but I had no reason to argue. I had a date with Connie, and potentially with Mack too.