Six
Valerie had never been to a cottage but appreciated the concept.
A lifetime of Canadian media consumption told her the cottage meant lazy hours on a sunny dock and frolicking in the lake.
Flannel shirts on rainy days. Nights roasting marshmallows while the haunting calls of a loon echoed over dark water.
However, she suspected reality would fall short.
She didn’t like bugs, although they harbored a deep and enduring affection for her or, specifically, her blood.
She wasn’t outdoorsy and had never experienced personal growth hiking through scratchy brambles.
The idea of fish nibbling her toes or underwater weeds licking along her calves was disturbing.
Plus, she was soft and urbanized and required the convenience of hot running water.
This made her decision to help Roger Badgerton all the more baffling.
In a way, saying yes to his truly whacked-out scheme was right up her alley.
She’d done enough online personality tests to confirm she was an impulsive people pleaser, and her streaming history exposed a weakness for intense family dramas.
However, this snap decision was extreme even for her, and last night she’d been up late worrying about whether it was time to restart therapy.
She could probably cut back on takeout to pay for the appointments, although pizza provided its own form of healing.
The thing was, the second she’d said yes, she’d felt good again, the feeling of failure fading into the background to lie dormant until her next sleepless night.
Part of it was the chance to redeem herself after screwing up Malcolm’s event, but it went deeper than that.
She kept thinking of the photos: the one she’d seen at the memorial, when all the siblings looked so confident and cheerful, and the other of Yvette and the baby.
She wanted to help Roger. She hated that there was a radioactive cloud poisoning his life when she could do something about it.
Not to mention the money. She’d mentally worked through the dirty feeling of being paid to lie by deciding it was basically an acting job.
That soothed her integrity and meant she could pay off her bank loan and have enough left over for food.
Luckily, she knew someone looking for a place and had managed to sublet her apartment for the summer right away.
As for his Ad Astra offer…that could change things for her business.
Her train of thought was disrupted when Nico brought tea into the library of Roger’s penthouse, where the two of them were meeting to discuss her fake-daughter backstory.
If she was honest, Nico was the less magnanimous reason she had agreed.
She didn’t expect anything to happen, since he had been nothing but professional, but she liked the idea that something could.
In the dying days of her relationship with her ex, Jake, one of the many realizations she’d come to was that if she stayed, she’d kiss away her chance of feeling anything like passion again.
Romance, that exhilaration of being swept off her feet, or being happy simply to be near the other person, had become emotions that barely existed in her memory.
Nico made her feel the edges of that again, when for so long there had been emptiness.
Also, those eyes. She’d gone online last night to google him again (nothing but a few reposts of Bread Company news and some blurry photos) and had tried to pretend entering search terms like super sexy eyes white crescent under iris wasn’t a bizarre thing to do.
Incredibly, there was a name for them. Sanpaku eyes.
They made him almost painfully attractive, with a contradictory sleepy come-hither yet piercing expression.
Nico handed her a glass cup so clear and streak-free it was like the liquid was floating in the air, then brought out a stack of albums. “I thought you’d like to see some family photos.”
She opened the first book at random and all worries about running water evaporated. The Badgertons didn’t have a cottage. They had a majestic summer residence.
“This house has more bathrooms than I have rooms in my apartment and that includes a broom closet too small to fit a broom.” She flipped through the pages. “Are the Badgertons related to Jay Gatsby?”
“They’d like to consider themselves more East Egg than West.”
Valerie laughed, pleased she didn’t have to explain her terrible joke.
She liked how he could connect the dots with lines she sometimes left undrawn because the association was so clear in her head she forgot it wasn’t the same for everyone.
He handed her another album, open to a photo of a young Roger and a girl that must be Penny from the 1980s, complete with feathered hair and sport socks yanked up to the knees.
They held tennis rackets and had their arms casually slung over each other’s shoulders.
Valerie slid her fingers over the photos.
It must be such a comfort to be so easy with your family.
She would get Roger that feeling back, and if she managed to experience a bit of the same belonging herself over the summer, well, she wouldn’t say no.
Nico leaned across the coffee table, and she patted the couch next to her. “Come join me so you don’t strain your neck,” she said. “It’ll be easier to see.”
He hesitated, then moved over. Sitting in the direct sun like that should reveal all his imperfections, but he merely looked incredible.
When he reached past her to point out some detail on the photo, she noticed his dark hair had bronze highlights, a look she’d once paid a lot to replicate but was probably natural on him.
Not for the first time did she wonder how much richer she’d be if she’d been born a handsome man.
She’d save so much money on hair styling and skin care alone, since she’d no longer have to pay the pink tax, not to mention she probably wouldn’t need cosmetics.
Nico turned the page. “Roger said he and Penny were doubles champions in the Mariposa summer league growing up and they still play. Do you?”
“Tennis? No.” She waved her arms. “Glass wrists.”
Nico smiled politely but she could tell he wasn’t sure if she was joking. She’d have to recalibrate her humor for him. On the other hand, no. Not only would it be more fun this way, but it was time to put into action the lesson she learned from Jake: no more changing herself for a man.
“I spent my formative years wearing those trendy plastic bracelets,” she improvised.
“They fused into gauntlets that eventually weakened my wrists to the point where it was impossible for me to hold a racket unless I put them back on. On the plus side, I can use them Wonder Woman–style to deflect the ball.”
“That would give the point to your opponent.”
“It’s a special gauntlet rule. You get double points.”
He looked at her over his tea. “No, you don’t.”
“You got me. I never learned to play. Can’t kayak or canoe, although I always wanted to try.” She breathed in the steam from her cup. “What kind of tea is this?”
“Luckily, none of those sports are prerequisites for your role as fake daughter. It’s oolong.”
The delicious oolong was officially her favorite, although that was a designation that changed regularly. There were always new and interesting things to try.
“How do you feel about this whole thing?” she asked.
The way he’d said fake daughter made her think he had less than positive thoughts about it.
The story had been a huge shock to him, as much as he’d tried to hide it, and she wondered how he felt about Roger keeping a secret like that.
Probably sad and left out. She would, anyway.
Nico didn’t meet her gaze. “It’s not my job to have opinions about it. Roger wants this done, so I’m doing it.”
“You think it’s a bad idea.”
“I never said that.”
“You don’t need to. Anytime someone falls back on saying it’s their duty or their job, that’s shorthand for This idea sucks but I’m stuck.”
“I think it has limited potential for success.”
“So, doomed to failure.”
“Limited potential for success,” he corrected.
“Then why are you going along with it?” she demanded.
“Why are you?” he countered. “You can’t believe this will work.”
“It’s a little wild and out there,” she admitted, not wanting to delve into her motivations, which were often foggy even to herself. Helping Roger was enough of a reason. “Sometimes out-of-the-box thinking is what’s needed.”
“The box could be galaxy sized, and this plan would still be out of it.” He sighed. “Can we get back to work?”
She decided to leave any emotional probing until later, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. “This place is huge,” she said, looking at the two-story boathouse. “Eat the rich, but after I leave.”
“I’ll inform the comrades we’re pushing back the revolution to mid-September.” He held up his tablet. “I have a tentative cover story for you.”
Valerie ignored this second call to work because a photo of the property showed how isolated it was.
While she doubted this was an elaborate scheme concocted by Roger to get her up north for unknown but nefarious reasons, she had a sudden concern about what she’d be walking into.
“Question. I read a lot of mysteries, and PD James said all murder is due to one of four things.”
“We were talking about your cover story. How did murder get involved?”
“Stay with me. The categories are loathing, love, lust, and lucre.”
Nico eyed her. “Which one in particular has you concerned?”
“First, lucre. My arrival means less money for everyone. How did the family react to the will when they found out? I didn’t want to ask when Roger was there.”
“Penny thinks it’s an ideal division of assets, and David hates it. Neither will want to have less.”
“That’s predictable, I suppose.” She chewed her lip. “We also have loathing. The murdered interloper is a common trope.” She pointed to herself. “Someone like me.”