Wish I Might Page 7

  Reed stroked his thumb along the back of her hand. “Doesn’t matter. We’re here now. So how about we head back to Ajax and you tell me about why you’re keeping your identity a secret, while I introduce you to some of Oxford’s best down home Southern cookin’?”

  “Deal.”

  Given the crowds, Ajax Diner was popular. It took a while, but they finally got seated in one of the booths along the right wall. Local art hung over each table, and the ceiling was dotted with thousands of sandwich toothpicks that Reed told her had been shot up with drinking straws. Scents of butter and bacon and spice hung heavy in the air, making Cecily’s mouth water and her empty stomach rumble. Thankfully, the dull roar of conversation kept anyone from hearing.

  After they put in their orders—country fried steak for Reed and a veggie plate for her—Reed leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So tell me your origin story, Cecily The Great.”

  She laughed. “I could get used to that.”

  “It suits you.”

  Cecily wasn’t sure about that. She took a sip of her iced tea. “I suppose it’s time for a bit of a family history lesson on the side that isn’t constantly in the news. My dad doesn’t come from the same world as my mother. He’s fourth generation of a fishing family from Long Island. And when his dad had a heart attack his senior year of high school and couldn’t work, my dad took the floundering fishing business and turned it into a charter company. Grandpa Eddie was pissed. Said he was throwing away generations of tradition and history. But sticking to the old ways had done nothing but get them up to their eyeballs in debt, to the point that they were on the verge of losing the business by the time Dad got his hands on it. Anyway, despite a lot of resistance from the family and quite a few of the employees, he made it work, made it profitable. Grandpa Cecil hired him one summer, to sail from Long Island down to the Caribbean and back—except instead of hiring dad’s boat, he hired him as captain because Dad had earned the reputation of being able to sail anything. That’s how he met my mom. They deluded themselves into believing they were managing a clandestine romance on board an 82’ yacht beneath the noses of her parents, both her brothers, and the other crew.”

  Reed’s eyes twinkled in appreciation of a good story. “I gather that wasn’t the case?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Did your grandparents object?”

  “Quite the contrary. Grandpa Cecil was really impressed with what Dad had made of his company. And there was apparently a betting pool on which port they’d end up eloping in. Gran would’ve won, but Dad decided to be old-fashioned and asked Grandpa for Mom’s hand. So they got married in a beach wedding when they got back to The Hamptons. It was quite the scandal, them being engaged after nine weeks, married in thirteen.”

  “Wow, that’s fast.”

  She shrugged. “When you know, you know. I’ve always been kind of jealous of that. The society set assumed Mom was pregnant. Everybody who hadn’t spent the summer watching them together gave the whole thing six months, a year, tops, before everything blew up. That was thirty years ago.”

  Cecily sat back, sipping more tea as their waitress returned with the food. “This looks amazing.” She forked up a bite of the squash casserole Norah so prized and moaned in pleasure. “Okay, I concede. It’s as good as Norah said it would be.”

  “So how did little Cecily fare as the child of two worlds?”

  “We’ll fast forward through the childhood and teenage years for now and just say that I grew up a happy kid, with a great family that gave me a unique perspective on people, and parents who believe in the value of hard work.”

  “Clearly that was a lesson you took to heart. I haven’t known many people with your work ethic.”

  Cecily shrugged. “If you have a skill or a gift, you use it. No one on either side of my family just sits around on their laurels.”

  “That’s consistent with everything I remember hearing about them over the years. But none of that explains why you’re so intent on hiding it. You’re not ashamed of them. I can hear how much you love them in the tone of your voice.”

  “You’re right. I adore my family. But the Davenport name comes with a lot of public expectation, some merited, some not. I did my undergrad at Brown. My grandmother was an alumna there, so everybody knew who I was. And I lost track of how many people befriended or tried to date me in an attempt to access to the family fortune or reputation or political clout. I learned fast that people were a lot more interested in how they could use me and my connections than in actually developing a relationship with me.”

  Reed frowned. “I’m sensing a very painful life lesson here.”

  He’d shared his disastrous ex story with her. Time for a little quid pro quo. “Jefferson was a master’s student in Public Policy.”

  Reed made a face. “Jefferson?”

  “Jefferson Carlyle Petrie, III. And yes, he’s every bit like he sounds. Old money New England, with history that can be traced back to the Mayflower.”

  “And you dated this guy?”

  “You aren’t the only one with questionable taste in significant others in college. We met spring semester my sophomore year. He was on a committee with me for a big charity fundraiser. He was charming, cultured, erudite, and he put all of his considerable skill into wooing me. I fell hard and fast.” She’d gotten past beating herself up for that. Mostly.

  “We were really well-suited. He was charitably-minded, as I am. Interested in improving things from a policy and systemic level.”

  “Meaning he was politically-minded,” Reed concluded.

  “Yes. And because of my background, I’d been groomed to be the perfect political partner. We had big dreams about how we’d change the world.” Cecily still ached a little at the loss of those dreams.

  “We started by founding a charity for disabled veterans, bridging the gap between what the VA provides and what’s actually needed. Physical therapy, better prosthetics, other forms of continuing care for those not located near a VA hospital. I funded the start up and set up the initial marketing push to bring in additional donations, but I was still in school, so I left a lot of the running of it to the board, which really meant Jefferson, since he was the chair. He was running for state representative at the time, and the public just ate it up that he was taking time out from the political trail to take care of disabled veterans. The fact that he was linked with me and my family just added further legitimacy to his campaign.”

  “I feel like this is heading toward a very predictable, very messy end.”

  “I didn’t predict it. I didn’t have a friggin’ clue.” Her hand fisted around the fork at the memory. She forced it to relax. “A reporter from the Providence Journal asked for a meeting with me about The Hero’s Help Alliance. Since I did a lot of the marketing, that wasn’t an unusual thing. But when I showed up for the meeting, I faced a roomful of people who’d applied for the program. Despite the fact that they’d all been approved, they’d seen nothing.

  “The reporter could’ve raked me over the coals, dragged my reputation through the muck, but he’d done his homework about my family and thought it highly unlikely I knew anything untoward was going on. So he helped me set up a sting instead. And we found out that Jefferson had embezzled over eighty percent of the charity’s funds, funneling it into his political campaign, and tying up the rest in a messy financial knot that made it hard to immediately track.”

  They’d also found out that, in typical politician fashion, he’d had a woman on the side. But that wasn’t germane to this discussion.

  “Please tell me he’s rotting in a cell.”

  “Oh no. Old money, remember. Top notch lawyers. But my family made certain that any future political aspirations he may have will be dead in the water. And then we made good on all the applicants who’d been shafted by Jefferson’s embezzlement. After which, we elected an entirely new board, established oversight by some other people my family trusts, and I stepped out of the charity entirel
y.”

  “Stepped out willingly or were forced out?”

  Oh, he was far too good at reading between the lines.

  “I was strongly encouraged to step out, with the irrefutable logic that I wouldn’t be able to oversee anything while I was in graduate school.”

  “That must’ve been really hard on you. Walking away from what you’d created. Something you felt that strongly about.”

  She’d hated it. Hated feeling like she’d failed her family and insulted their legacy. They’d never said a word about it, but they hadn’t had to. The rest of the media hadn’t been as understanding as that initial reporter from the Providence Journal. Most of the coverage had focused on Jefferson, but there’d been plenty of speculation about her. Dropping out of the public eye had been the only way to survive.

  Cecily jerked her shoulder in a shrug. “It was an expensive lesson not to be foolish in who I trust. So when I left for Northwestern, I left the Davenport name behind, along with the money and status that went with it.”

  “Did they cut you off?”

  “I cut myself off, other than making the occasional charitable donation. I decided that whatever I did from then on, whatever I achieved, would be on my own merit. I’d sink or swim on my own and it wouldn’t reflect on them. And it ended up being this incredibly freeing thing, to be judged on who I am, not on who my family is. So it’s just been my standard operating procedure ever since.”

  “So nobody you’ve dated since college has known what you come from?”

  She set the fork down and wet her throat with the last of the tea before answering. “Nobody’s mattered enough to bring it up until now.”

  ~*~

  Reed eyed Cecily’s dark house as he pulled into the drive. “Think Christoff is asleep?”

  “He’s either over at Daniel’s or he’s lying in wait to pounce on me for details the moment I walk through the door.” She shot an amused glance his way. “He was always on your side.”

  “Good to know.” Reed got out and hurried around to open her door. “Ma’am.”

  She took his offered hand. “You Southern boys certainly have pretty manners.”

  “Some old-fashioned things are worth retaining.” He kept her hand in his as they walked up to the front porch, not wanting the night to end.

  “You want to sit for a little while?”

  He smiled, glad they were on the same page. “Sure.”

  She led him over to the little glider.

  Reed took the seat beside her and ran his hand over the wooden arm of the glider. “I’ve never seen one quite like this.”

  “It’s made of upcycled shipping pallets.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Daniel made it. You should see some of the things he can put together. He’s working on starting a business of it. The Pallet Palace. I did his website back in the summer. Right now it’s largely custom orders, since he doesn’t have a place to store stock, but he hopes to expand eventually.” She tugged a blanket off the back. “It’s a bit chilly tonight.”

  “Welcome to fall in Mississippi. Summer temps in the daytime and cold at night. C’mon.” Reed opened his arms in invitation.

  She tucked the blanket around their legs and snuggled in close, resting her head against his chest. He decided it was an almost perfect end to a pretty perfect night—run-in with Annelise notwithstanding.

  “So did you get what you needed out of the reading?”

  Cecily laughed. “Was that really why you asked me to go?”

  “Partly. Mostly I wanted to see you in my world. You fit pretty well. For a Yankee.”

  “Really? That’s the part you focus on after everything you know about me?”

  So sure she’d be judged on her affluent background. He skimmed his fingers through her silky hair, resisting the urge to bury his nose in the sweet, lemony scent. “It’s the only relevant part. You passed the cornbread test.”

  “It was damned good cornbread.” On a contented sigh, she said, “I had fun.”

  “Good. There’s a lot of other stuff I want to show you to further your southern education.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “The Sweet Potato Festival is only a few weeks off.”

  “Sweet potatoes?” Her voice dripped with skepticism.

  “Sure. Vardaman is the sweet potato capital of the world. Once you’ve had sweet potato pie, you’ll never go back to pumpkin.”

  “Blasphemer! There is no Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie.”

  “I’ll concede that it’s worth having both.”

  “Generous of you.”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as too much pie.”

  She grinned up at him. “I’ve eaten your grandmother’s pie. This is a true thing. What else?”

  “Well, there’s the Spring pilgrimage in Columbus. It’s not as grand as the one in Natchez, but it’s closer and easier to manage. You’ll totally dig all the folks that dress up in period clothes to give the tours of all the antebellum homes.”

  Reed knew as soon as the words left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. He could actually see the reality of their situation come crashing back down on her. Every fiber of his being wanted to rewind, have a do-over as the light in her eyes dimmed and her expression twisted into regret.

  “Reed—”

  Please don’t say it.

  She pulled away from him, tugging the blanket up to her chin. “I don’t know how much longer I’m here.”

  “Have you signed a contract somewhere?”

  “No, but I have to be ready to go when I do. I could be moving in a matter of weeks. Probably will be. I’ve got resumes out at all the top tier firms on my short list. These are prestigious positions, so there’s a big possibility I won’t get offered a job.”

  “But if you do get an offer, you’re gone.” Reed saw past her false modesty. She was amazing at what she did. If any of these places interviewed her, that would be the end of it.

  She gave a What can I do? shrug.

  There was plenty she could do. With the means at her disposal, she could stay if she really wanted to. But he knew how much she wanted to succeed on her own terms, without the help of her family, so he didn’t say a word. How could he, when he admired the hell out of her choice to do exactly that? He’d known her leaving was a very real possibility when he decided to pursue her again. But he’d thought he’d have more time to convince her that staying here was the right move. As usual he’d miscalculated.

  He sighed. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this.” Sometimes it was a real pisser to be able to see both sides of a situation.

  “I like you, Reed. I’ve always liked you. But I just don’t think it’s smart to start something when I might not be around to finish it.”

  “So, what exactly was tonight then?”

  “I don’t know. Part business. Part apology. Part what if?”

  He nodded, though he didn’t know what he was agreeing with. His mind was full of his own what ifs. What if he hadn’t said the wrong thing at the lake? What if they’d had the last three months to deepen the connection between them? Would she still be planning to leave?

  They were useless questions. He had; they hadn’t; and she was. That was reality.

  At least she hadn’t called it a mistake.

  Looking over at her, he hated the mix of concern and sorrow on her face. “You aren’t going to start avoiding me again, are you?”

  Even in the moonlight, he could see her blush.

  “No. Quite apart from the fact that I still have a job to do, I’d like to be friends.”

  The whole idea left a sour taste in his mouth. But it wasn’t like he wanted to hurt her by saying no.

  “Sure.” He rose, letting the blanket slide off his lap. “It’s late. I should be getting on home.”

  Cecily unfolded and dug out her key. “See you on Monday?”

  “Yeah. You know where to find me.” Reed waited until she’d unlocked the
door, then took a step back, lifting a hand in a completely lame wave before shoving both hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Night.”

  He could feel Cecily’s gaze on him as he walked to his car and wondered what she was thinking. Was she second guessing her decision? No, that was probably wishful thinking.

  One foot in front of the other. Do not open your mouth and embarrass yourself any further.

  His phone buzzed with an incoming text as he slid into the driver’s seat. Pulling it out, he found a message from Selina.

  You’re quiet tonight.

  Because I’ve been spending time with a real girl, not a figment of technology and imagination. For all the good it’s done me.

  Reed: Just watching something I want slip out of my reach.

  Selina: So go after it. You still might not get it, but at least you’ll have tried.

  A light went on in the house and Cecily shut the door. He cranked the car, staring at the phone until the screen went dark. He didn’t want this. Didn’t want a fake girlfriend. Didn’t want the lie. He wanted the woman he’d just walked away from. And how was she to know that if he didn’t man up and show her?

  Reed turned off the engine and sprinted across the yard.

  Cecily opened the door before he could knock. “Reed? Did you forget something?”

  “Yeah.” He stepped inside, spearing his hands into her hair and claiming her mouth before she could say another word.

  Her body gave one quick jolt, her hands coming up to his shoulders. Reed braced to be pushed away, maybe slapped. Then she shuddered and opened to him on a sexy little moan, moving in and wrapping her arms around his neck. Reed kicked the door shut and backed her up against it, caging her with his body, while he devoured her mouth. This wasn’t the slow, languid exploration at the lake. It was pure, unadulterated wanting. He had just enough control to keep his hands in her hair, rather than sprinting over the body she pressed against his.