Chapter 4
Chapter Four
M onday went downhill for Renic before nine a.m., which had to be some kind of record. He and his production manager, Davis, still waited in the studio for Keith, their hopefully rising star, to get out of bed. The kid was full of talent but was not an early riser, a fact that never failed to frustrate Renic.
Davis swiveled around in his chair. “We can go over Tyrone’s latest while we wait, if you want. It’s almost there I think.”
“Yeah, okay, queue it up.”
Renic tapped out a text to Morgan. Get his ass out of bed. Please. Studio only free today.
A few seconds later, Morgan replied, His ass is in the shower. BTS.
Renic grunted. “Wonder what her definition of soon is.”
He started to put his phone away when it pinged again. This time, it was Jordanna Farrington. Used all my best moves. Lizzie tried. Ball ’ s in your court.
Renic swore under his breath .
Davis looked up. “What?”
He started to say something about Della’s situation, then stopped himself. The last thing he wanted was for serious word to get out that Della had bailed. So far, it was only a mild rumor caused by the award winner missing the morning round of interviews. It would probably get worse the longer she was absent from the public stage, but there was no need to stoke the fire.
“Nothing,” Renic said. “Something came up. I can’t stay.”
“What about Tyrone? We need your approval to move on to masters.”
Renic typed OMW to Jordanna and hit “Send.”
“You got this. Lay what you can with Keith. We'll go over it when I get back. Send me a review link for Tyrone, and I’ll approve it from the road.”
Davis made a little choking sound. “You serious?”
Renic looked up from his phone at the surprise in his voice. “Absolutely. You don't need me here for this part. You have the best ear in the business. I trust you.”
Davis grinned at him, looking pleased. “That’s true. I am the best. Just shocked to hear you admit it is all.”
Renic rolled his eyes at him.
Davis spun toward the control panel and started punching buttons and turning knobs. “Don’t worry, boss. Do what you got to do. I got this.”
“Thanks, man.”
Renic tapped out a reply to Morgan. Davis handling session. Keep them on task. Heading to Seneca Lake.
A few seconds later, Morgan replied, Shit.
No kidding, he thought.
Several hours later, Renic was driving from Rochester, New York, to Belhurst Castle on Seneca Lake. He’d spent the short flight researching the area and the house, and now he had an hour-long drive to figure out what he’d say to Della and Lizzie.
When he thought of Lizzie, his brain refused to cough up anything but the look on her face as she’d said her last words to him. Her rich brown eyes, so full of hurt and hate, had blazed a trail of condemnation through his heart straight to his soul. It had been three years, but it might as well have been yesterday.
He forced his thoughts away from Lizzie and back to Della. He still had no idea what made her run away from the party. Morgan had questioned almost everyone who’d been in the penthouse suite where the party was held that night, but the only new information she’d managed to find was that Della had left her award sitting on one of the side tables next to the door.
The fancy silver statue was on his desk now. He’d thought about bringing it to her, to remind her of what she’d left behind, but then decided against it.
Until he knew what had upset her, it was hard to plan a response that would convince her to change her mind. If she was just overworked or tired, he could rearrange the tour to give her an extended holiday break. If someone abused her or was mean to her, he could put a stop to it. He could get her therapy. He would get her anything she needed or wanted if it would mean the tour could continue as scheduled. But until he got more information, he couldn’t act.
The trees were bursting with fall colors, and he’d seen at least three deer along the side of the road so far. No wonder Lizzie had run away and set up a life here. It was so far removed from the music world and New York City it might as well be another planet.
A little over an hour later, he pulled into the circular drive in front of the inn. The house was like the woman who owned it, impressive at first sight and even more appealing the longer he looked at it. It really did look like a castle. There was an actual turret, for one thing. The stones on the facade looked like genuine relics. They were sturdy and real in a way most things in his life weren’t.
The place seemed strangely empty for Monday afternoon, but then he supposed most inns probably were. There were no cars in the drive, and no evidence of any parked nearby. He didn’t see anyone walking around outside either. The place was an oasis of calm in the chaos that was his life.
He made his way to the front door and stepped inside. Ornate, rich woodwork, a mop and bucket, and the scent of pine cleanser greeted him.
A long bench sat along the right wall of the entry, and a cluster of small wood dining tables with chairs filled an area on the left, next to an open wood door through which he could hear raised voices having a muffled but heated discussion. He looked around for a reception desk but didn’t see one. Belhurst Castle had obviously been a home first, inn second. He followed the trail of voices to the left, thinking he’d just pop his head in and ask whoever worked back there for Lizzie or Della.
Renic stopped short when he heard his name sail through the doorway to what he assumed was the kitchen, judging by the giant refrigerator he could see through the opening.
“I don’t get why you’re so upset,” a melodic voice said. “It’s my life that’s upside down, not yours.”
It was Della speaking. He’d know that voice anywhere. The voice that spoke next froze him to the spot .
“It’s not just your life, Dell,” Lizzie said. “It never was. Don’t you get it? We’re a family. Your life affects all of us.”
Dishes clinked and clattered.
“Us. Right,” Della said. “Mattie has weepy eyes anytime I call. Piper won’t pick up the phone, but she tweeted something about me bopping along to my own beat when the last album dropped.”
“What’s so bad about that?” Lizzie asked.
One of them turned on a faucet, and the sound of running water muted their voices, forcing Renic to shift closer to the door.
“She means she hates it and me,” Della said. “She hates the boppy stuff. You know that.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Lizzie said in a tired voice. “She misses you. We all do.”
There was a long pause. Renic’s leg twitched toward the door.
“What do you want from me?” Della asked.
He stopped midstep.
“I want you to be happy. Of course I want that.”
“But…,” Della prompted.
“I want you to honor your commitments too,” Lizzie said. “It’s called being an adult. Have you even told your crew that you quit? Do they know?”
“Not…no. Not yet.” Della’s voice was low and even harder to hear.
Renic took another half step toward the door. He could see part of a table and a china cabinet filled with dishes.
“Don’t you think they deserve to hear it from you?” Lizzie asked.
It was quiet for a second or two.
“I’ll send them an email today,” Della finally replied in the sullen tone of someone being bullied into doing the right thing.
“Email. Right,” Lizzie grumbled.
More dishes rattled. Then the water shut off.
“What happened, Della? What made you run away?” Lizzie’s voice was soft and concerned and crystal clear now that it wasn't muffled by water.
She’d asked the exact question Renic had wanted to ask ever since he’d found out Della was missing. He leaned forward a little in anticipation.
“I didn’t run away. I just…” All the defiance in Della’s was gone. “I guess I just…I don’t know.”
Della's voice shifted as she moved across the next room, getting closer. Panic gripped him. She could step through that door and catch him eavesdropping any second, which would do wonders for his relationship with both women, he was sure.
He should stop listening and announce his arrival, or maybe go back out and come in again. That was the polite and professional thing to do, but curiosity and a driving need for information cemented his feet to the floor. A prickle of guilt stabbed at him, but he ignored it.
“Did anyone hurt you?” Lizzie whispered, as if afraid of the answer.
“No.” Della sniffed.
“Did someone attack you in some way?”
“No.” Della’s voice was more firm. “Nothing like that.”
Renic let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding with relief. Scratch assault off the list.
“Then what, Dell Bell? Something made you get in the car and drive up here. What was it?” Lizzie’s tone was so gentle that Renic felt an impulse to rush in and confess .
“I felt like I couldn’t breathe,” Della said. “Like it was all pointless. You know?”
“Pointless?”
“Yeah. Pointless.” Della’s voice grew louder. “Like…they gave me an award for the “Rush” video. Have you seen it? It’s so stupid. And the song is soulless. And I thought, ‘This is why they’re giving me statues? This crap?’ And then at the party everybody was just so full of themselves. As if any of it actually mattered.”
Renic frowned at that unvarnished sentiment. He’d never heard Della talk like that. Ever. The song she referred to was a huge hit, shattering records the day it dropped. It was the cornerstone and namesake for the upcoming tour. On an objective level, the song was fantastic. He felt that deep in his gut where most of his decisions about music were made.
He thought Della loved that song. Making the video had been a three-day party filled with laughter and practical jokes. He thought back to the studio sessions. Della had shown up early every day to work. She’d gone over and over and over every note, every nuance. When he’d told her it was good to go, she’d seemed thrilled.
Where the hell was this dissatisfaction coming from? Why hadn’t she mentioned it before?
“I’ve never heard you talk like this,” Lizzie said. “How long have you felt this way?”
“I don’t know. Awhile now,” Della admitted. “Anyway, it was too much. So I left. That’s it. I couldn’t think of where else to go, so I came here.”
The water turned back on, and dishes clinked and clattered for a minute or two. He was dying to peek inside the room, but they’d surely see him if he did that.
He should leave .
He should go back out to the front porch and knock or something. Pretend he was never here.
“You know I love you, Dell Bell. And I’m happy to have you stay here if this is really where you want to be. But I need you to call Renic before he comes waltzing through the door.”
“Why?” Della crossed the open doorway with a stack of plates in her hand and set them on the table.
Renic froze in place.
Della didn’t look his way as she moved past the door and back.
“You know how I feel about that man,” Lizzie said.
A dish hit the sink a little harder than necessary, Renic thought.
“Yeah, we all know. I just thought you’d have moved on by now. It’s been over three years.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Lizzie said. Plates clanked on a counter for emphasis. “Leave Darth Renic in the past where he belongs.”
Renic sucked in a breath. Lizzie’s feelings toward him hadn’t mellowed. He’d been holding out hope that she’d seen how happy Della was in her new life, and how Mattie was progressing, and how well Piper was doing, and what? Forgive him?
“Anyway,” Della said, “I don’t see how you’ll be able to leave him in the past when he’s on the way here right now. Jordy said his flight landed in Rochester about an hour ago.”
Lizzie muttered something he couldn’t hear. “Great. I'm going back to the Carriage House. You can finish the last two rooms and deal with him . Text me when he’s gone, and we’ll go over the place settings for the rehearsal dinner on Friday.”
Della groaned. “Do you have any idea what those old people did in those rooms? It’s disgusting. The Violet Room had wads of toilet paper stuck to the bathroom walls. I had to scrape it off with my fingernails. Why did they do that?”
Lizzie chuckled. “I think they were all reliving their collective childhoods. It’s kind of cute, if you look past what Mr. Onstein did to the plumbing.”
“I don’t want to know what’s under my fingernails right now.”
“You didn’t have to use your nails. There’s a squeegee you can use tucked inside the bucket. I’ll show you.”
Their voices had been growing louder and closer, and suddenly the two women popped through the open door.
Lizzie jerked her head back at the sight of him.
Della’s eyes widened.
Renic felt like a bug about to splat on a windshield.
For a surreal moment, time stopped. All he could focus on was the beautiful woman standing in front of him. She looked as stunning as the last time he saw her.
She still had the same rich brown eyes with flecks of gold that mesmerized him, and a body that was the perfect combination of curvy and athletic. Even dressed in ratty jeans and a flannel shirt, she was the girl he wished lived next door.
She could have been a model, though she didn’t seem to realize it. She never seemed to notice that men traveled in her orbit like satellites. Her focus had always been her sisters first, and her lying cheat of a husband second.
Lizzie’s mouth fell open and she stared at him in stunned disbelief.
“Hey, Renic.” Della drew out his name in a half-hearted attempt to be casual.
“Della. Everything okay?” Renic couldn’t drag his gaze away from Lizzie.
"Everything’s fine,” Della said.
Lizzie crossed her arms, and her eyes smoldered at him the same way they had the last time they spoke. “I guess it’s true. Bad people do travel fast.”
“I thought that was bad news,” Renic said.
“Same thing.”
Renic smiled, hoping to take the edge off the already tense conversation. “Darth Renic, huh? That’s a new one. I like it. Makes me sound kind of mystical.”
"Why are you here?” Lizzie glared at him.
“Hey, you two.” Della looked at each one of them in turn like she was watching a tennis match.
Renic spread his hands wide in a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
“That’s exactly what you came here to do, you arrogant bastard.” Lizzie pointed at the door. “Get out.”
“It isn’t. I came here because I care about Della.”
“You came here because you care about money,” Lizzie countered.
“It’s not just about the money, dammit.” Renic ran his hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up to lace every word out of his mouth in the same way it had three years ago. “Can we just take a step back and start over? It’s good to see you, Lizzie.”
“Get. Out.” Lizzie’s beautiful brown eyes narrowed. “Now.”