Storm Shells (The Wishes Series #3) (27 page)

“Adam will be looking at it,” I growled, surprised by the tag team assault being unleashed on me. “I’ll tell him about her soon.”

“You keep saying ‘her’. Do you know for sure it’s a girl?” Ryan asked, putting a halt to the imminent row.

“
I
know for sure. Others aren’t convinced,” I muttered, glancing at Alex.

Alex threw both hands in the air. “I believe in your hunch. It’s Gabrielle who’s uncertain.”

Ryan grimaced at the mention of her name and I pounced, acutely aware of the dislike he held for her.

“Ryan’s looking forward to spending some time with the Parisienne while he’s here,” I said. “Maybe we should come for dinner tonight after all.”

“Parisiennes are from Paris,” muttered Ryan. “Gabi is from Marseille.”

“Tinker Bells are from Never Never Land,” I shot back. “I’m from Pipers Cove.”

He acknowledged my point with a nod. “Touché, Charlotte from Pipers Cove.”

I turned to Alex. “Oh, we’re
definitely
coming for dinner.”

* * *

Bullying Ryan into going to Gabrielle and Alex’s for dinner took no effort at all.

“I might as well get it out of the way,” he said, opening door of the pretentious silver Mercedes for me. “If I came all this way and didn’t visit her, my mother would hang me.”

I slipped into the too-low leather seat as gracefully as I could and used the time it took him to walk around the car to smooth my dress and pull myself together. My growing paunch was beginning to curse me with the posture and stance of a long-haul truck driver.

“How long since you’ve seen Gabi?” I asked as he got in.

“Not since her wild New York days,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I doubt she’s ever been wild.”

“Sure she has,” he drawled. “I heard that she once put her paintbrushes away without cleaning them properly.”

Ryan started the car and pulled out onto the street. It had been a long time since I’d played tour guide. I pointed out a few unimpressive landmarks as we coasted through town, including the famous lighthouse-that-never-was sign.

“I just can’t see the charm” Ryan allowed his eyes to wander from the road for too long while he checked out the scenery. “Living here would by my idea of hell.”

I gazed out the window impassively. I’d felt the exact same way for most of my life, but for the time being I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

We arrived at the house just on dusk. A yellow glow from the lights filtered through the open windows, setting a warm and inviting scene, but it wasn’t enough to motivate Ryan.

“Cheer up,” I teased, noticing his expression. “Gabrielle’s cooking coq au vin. It’s to die for.”

He glanced across, smiling crookedly. “You’re such a simple creature at times.”

Alex met us at the door. Gabrielle interrupted the idle greeting by bounding out of the kitchen and launching herself at Ryan. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but overenthusiastic hugging wasn’t it. Ryan reciprocated, breaking her hold only to do the Décarie double-kiss routine.

“It’s been such a long time,” she crowed, grabbing his hands and pushing him to arm’s length while she looked him up and down. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“You have,” he noted, smiling. “You used to be blonde, back in the day.

She put a finger to her lips. “Shush.”

“Blonde, eh?” teased Alex. “Who knew?”

“Oh yeah,” purred Ryan, swinging her hand. “She was a rebel.”

* * *

Dinner was divine. Unexpectedly, the company was too. Gabrielle and Ryan chatted, laughed and reminisced like old friends rather than two cousins who didn’t particularly like each other. I was beginning to wonder if Ryan had embellished the animosity between them.

Alex seemed to be enjoying himself too, mainly because he learned a few things about his arty French beauty queen that night. If not for Ryan spilling the beans, he’d probably have never found out about the thick glasses she wore as a child or her short-lived foray into modelling as a teen.

The embarrassing revelations weren’t one-sided. Thanks to Gabrielle, I found out about Ryan’s brief high school obsession with techno music and baggy clothes. I tried to picture it in my mind. I couldn’t do it. The man wore tailored shirts, for crying out loud.

Ryan mistook my thoughtful stare for fatigue. “Are you tired, Charli?” He downed the last mouthful of wine in his glass. “We can go if you want to.”

It was after eleven. I hadn’t managed to stay awake that late at night for weeks. “A little.”

Ryan smiled. “Comes with the territory, I expect.”

“Yes, of course,” concurred Gabrielle. She began clearing the table. “You need your rest, Charli.”

I suddenly felt older than my years. Confusingly, I also felt like a child being dismissed from the table because it was time for bed.

“There’s plenty of time to catch up,” agreed Alex, pushing his chair back. “How long did you say you’re in town for?”

Ryan followed his lead and stood. “I’m hoping to be out of here by the end of the week, depending on how acquiescent your daughter is to my not-so-hostile takeover.”

I glowered. “I told you, just give me the papers and I’ll sign it over.”

“Maybe I’ll give her an extra few days to come to her senses,” suggested Ryan, transferring his smirk to Alex. “Her negotiating skills are a little off.”

Alex chuckled, but the Parisienne was determined to put her two cents in. “You do need to put some thought into this, Charli,” she urged. “You have a child to support now.”

It was too much to think that Alex hadn’t told Gabrielle all about the Billet-doux situation. Her input annoyed me because she had to know her concern was a crock. I’d married very well and I was on the cusp of divorcing even better. The reality was, if I never managed to get my act together it would make no difference to the financial support of my child. I was loaded.

“You’re absolutely right.” I thumped my hand on the table, making the setting rattle. “You can buy me out for two million dollars.”

He didn’t bat an eyelid. “Now I definitely need to give you a few days to come to your senses. You’re delusional.”

* * *

The ride back to the cottage quickly turned into an inquisition.

“I thought you couldn’t stand Gabrielle,” I accused. “You looked pretty chummy tonight.”

Ryan flashed me a puzzled sideward glance. “I haven’t seen her in years. Were you hoping for a brawl?”

“No, of course not. I just wasn’t expecting you to be so friendly.”

“She hasn’t had a chance to aggravate me. I’m sure if I was subjected to her company for any length of time, the affability would wane.”

I laughed out loud at his convoluted words. “You’re such a dick.”

“I try my best,” he retorted, grinning.

* * *

Waking up the next morning knowing that I wasn’t alone in the house was a joyous feeling. But I knew it would be short-lived. Ryan had made it clear that as soon as the Billet-doux affair was wrapped up, he’d be on the first flight to New York. I expected him to hit me with his buyout offer over breakfast, but he never mentioned it. Perhaps the salt air was slowing him down.

The man opposite me looked nothing like the jetlagged Manhattanite pounding on my door the day before. He looked relaxed dressed in faded jeans, grey T-shirt and bare feet.

“I stole something from your father’s house last night,” he announced.

I didn’t buy it. I continued eating my cereal as if he hadn’t spoken. I did smile though, giving him licence to continue the nonsense.

“C’mon, Charli,” he goaded, leaning across the table. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“No.”

He leaned back. “You used to be one of the best crooks around,” he reminisced. “Motherhood is making you soft.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh for goodness sake. Tell me.”

Ryan reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out – of all things – a cork. He placed it reverently on the table.

“And you think
I’m
a simple creature?”

His smile brightened to Décarie level. “That pinot we had last night was outstanding.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I muttered, taking my bowl to the sink. “I didn’t have any.”

“It got me thinking. If that’s the calibre of wines in this region, I should meet with the supplier, buy a few cases and have it shipped home for the restaurants. What do you think?”

Why did he care what I thought? I rinsed my bowl and returned to the table on the pretence of mulling it over. I picked up the cork and rolled it between my fingers, reading the winery name on the side. It was from the Tate estate.

“In theory, I think it’s a great idea.” I tossed the cork at him. He surprised me by catching it. “In practice, it might be the worst business decision of your career.”

As far as I knew, the Tate’s wine sales were the domain of Meredith. Even Ryan would find it challenging to deal with her.

“Why?”

“They’re... difficult to deal with,” I replied cryptically.

“You know them?” I tilted my head to one side, silently answering his question. “Of course you know them. You probably know everyone in this backwater town. You can set up a meeting for me.”

“Why would I help you do that? I can’t stand them.” I spoke with absolute contempt. “If you want to go making deals with the Beautifuls, on your own head be it.”

“Who are the Beautifuls?”

I had a good mind to march him down to Jasmine’s salon and feed him to her.

“The Beautifuls are the daughters of your winemakers. It’s a small town and word gets round. One way or another, you’ll have to go through them to get to the pinot.”

His crafty smile proved that whatever he was thinking was positively obscene. “Relax, Casanova. Only one of them is single and neither of them are beautiful. One is the proverbial mean girl –”

“And the other?” he pressed, cutting me off before I had a chance to tell him.

I sighed, picturing Lily in my mind. “Dumb as a stump.”

Ryan chuckled down at the table. “Sounds challenging.”

“Leave it alone, Ryan,” I warned. “After years of making my life a misery, things have finally settled down. I don’t want you causing trouble.”

“I find it hard to believe that anyone could get the better of you,” he mocked. “Besides, I happen to have a way with mean girls.”

“And dumb girls.”

He smirked at me. “Why do they hate you so much?”

I snatched up his half-full coffee mug and marched it to the sink. “Probably because I slept with their brother and dyed their hands orange.”

Ryan burst into a roar of laughter that showed no sign of ending any time soon. I walked out and left him to it.

May 29

Adam

I didn’t need to spend much time at Nellie’s. Paolo ran it with an iron fist and I was happy to leave him to it. Billet-doux was a little more my speed. It was calmer and quieter. And best of all, the place pretty much ran itself.

I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. Even Trieste wasn’t really sure.

“Ryan just hovers and then disappears into his office for a while.” She wiggled her fingers in the direction of the diners. “Just mingle.”

I’d never been one for mingling, even when I was sane. I choose to hang back and observe from a distance instead.

Billet-doux was far more up-market than Nellie’s. The lunch crowd was mainly businessmen and groups of women who had a fondness for big jewellery and little dogs. The staff were much more interesting to watch. Everyone seemed to get along, and from what I could tell Ryan was a good boss. No one had a bad word to say about him, which could only mean that none of them knew him well. His no-screwing-the-staff rule obviously still stood.

Trieste still jabbered incessantly about Felix, but had never made a move. He seemed oblivious to her hardcore attempts at flirting. She stopped at the bar to chat and bat her eyes a hundred times a day. Wondering if he was as inept at the dating scene as Trieste, I decided to give him a bit of a push. I waited until things had quietened down after the lunch rush. He greeted me with a wide smile.

“It’s Felix, right?” I asked, pretending to be unsure.

“That’s right.”

“Felix, what do you think of Trieste?” I leaned my elbow on the bar, looking back at Trieste as she cleared tables.

I glanced at him. He looked scared, as if he didn’t know the right answer. “I like her?”

“Great,” I said, ignoring his terror. “She likes you too. You should ask her out.”

Felix looked across at her. “No, I don’t think so.” He didn’t sound scared any more.

“Why not?”

“She’s not my type.”

I believed him but persevered anyway – showing scary Fiona Décarie tendencies.

“Why not? She –”

He cut me off. “She has blue stripes in her hair.”