Janette stacked up five boxes of almond-flavored chocolate mints, and he laid the exact amount of money on the counter.
She looked down at the pile of bills and up at him. “I remember when you could barely see over this counter and you paid me in pennies.”
“Yeah, now it’s dollars.” He laughed. “Times have changed.”
“Thank goodness, not at Clayworth’s,” she said, pride ringing loud and clear in her voice.
It never will if I have anything to say about it.
“You’re right, Janette. We’re still the same. The customer must be pleased,” he said, repeating the store’s motto. “And I always am. Thanks.”
To work off his excess energy, his frustration at having to wait to see Athena, he walked up the wide staircase instead of taking the elevator to the ninth-floor executive offices.
On the seventh floor he stopped and looked toward the Maple Room. A long line of customers waiting to be seated for lunch stretched out the door.
Drawn to it, he stood off to the side and peered through the wide opening into the paneled room with the blue carpet symbolic of Clayworth’s.
Today the restaurant teemed with parents and kids off for summer break. Seeing it full of families reminded him of Christmas and the Chicago tradition of having breakfast with Santa under Clayworth’s giant tree.
His family tradition to invite store executives, their partners, and their children to be the first to see the fully decorated tree the night before it opened to the public brought a memory he’d buried long ago. Now he could let it out, savor it.
He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and smiled, thinking about the first time he’d seen Athena after being gone for nearly eighteen months at prep school and two summers sailing with his parents in preparation for the Fastnet.
That night he walked into the Maple Room and saw her, hair shining, eyes wide, full mouth curled laughing with her sisters, and she’d looked up at him, and his teenage libido had gone on testosterone overload.
A month away from her seventeenth birthday, she’d grown up.
His best friend, his confidante, became the object of his desire.
Christ, his gut ached, remembering.
His personal code of honor set up the boundaries. A year of memories. The year he lost his parents. The year he fell in love with Athena Smith.
He straightened, his shoulders rigid. Last night he’d never felt closer to anyone. Yet he hadn’t told her about finally sailing his own Fastnet to banish the last of his guilt and regret. Find closure. Why? For the same reason he hadn’t wanted to discuss her dad? Fear. Fear of losing her again.
Charlotte, the longtime hostess of the Maple Room, who ruled with an iron fist and marshmallow heart, came back to the reservation desk and spotted him.
“What a nice surprise, Mr. Clayworth. The family table?”
He saw the round table for eight empty in front of the large middle window overlooking State Street.
“No, thanks, Charlotte. Who’s the next big party waiting?”
She glanced out of the corner of her eye toward a harassed woman, bouncing a fussing infant in her arms, two kids resisting the attempts of a grandmother to entertain them while they waited, and a grandfather gazing into space, wearing a polo shirt with the emblem of a country club Drew recognized. Drew figured the poor guy wished he’d gone to the golf course.
“Give them the family table.”
Charlotte’s lips twitched. “That is very kind of you. Have a good day.”
“I already am.” He winked and turned away.
From behind him one of the kids gave a shout of joy. Drew felt the same way since last night.
His stride long and brisk, he entered the Circassian walnut–paneled boardroom on the ninth floor. The plush, thick blue carpet muffled his footsteps.
Connor eyed the bag Drew dropped on the table. “Have you got mints in there?”
“Not for you. They’re for Jeff and the kids I’m teaching to sail from the center.” And Athena. “Go buy your own.”
“No cash on me. God forbid I be the family member who doesn’t pay cash for my candy at Clayworth’s.” Connor laughed.
“Talk about us being creatures of habit.” Drew shook his head. “How many times growing up did we hear that we could charge anything at Clayworth’s but we had to spend our own money on candy. I wonder which of our dads thought up that family rule.”
“Mine and my mother put him up to it. If it wasn’t for Aunt Bridget, I would have been swiping candy from all of you. So. Let’s talk about stealing.”
He pulled a notebook out of his briefcase. “Ed and I have both questioned Penelope and Shelby. They were both horrified to discover the dresses were stolen from Clayworth’s Secret Closet.” A flicker of a smile curled Connor’s mouth. “I failed to point out the fact Penelope bought the dress under circumstances that could only mean it was stolen property. However, they’re both charge-account customers of long standing, and we all know what that means.”
“The customer must always be pleased,” Drew said with a crack of derisive laughter.
“Exactly.” Connor nodded. “I assured them John Clayworth and Company did not consider them culpable in any way.”
Drew leaned toward him. “Did Penelope give you the name of the fence who sold her the dress? We need to get our hands on the remaining two before anyone else becomes affected.”
“She gave us a name, but it went nowhere. A phony. Sorry, Drew. So far the gowns are untraceable. Ed is still working on it. I agree having those dresses out there makes us vulnerable to lawsuits. It’s still a possibility with both Penelope and Shelby. Although they both are saying exposure to Bertha’s dresses has changed their lives in a positive way.”
Athena in his arms flashed in front of him. Yeah, life altering.
“I don’t believe they’ll sue.” Drew shook his head. “Clayworth’s can withstand any panic, any troubles in the future as it has in the past. But we need to stay on this. Time is running out.”
All at once Drew had an overpowering sense of events rushing to a climax. The Fastnet. Clayworth’s. Athena.
He needed to see her. Touch her. Christ, his own pain and anger had kept them apart for years. No more.
• • •
Twenty minutes later he parked in the donor lot at the museum. He took the steps two at a time and in four long strides reached her office.
She stood behind her desk talking to Makayla.
“Hello,” he called with all the coolness he could muster, considering he was in the throes of sexual longing. He felt like a teenager. Next he’d be shuffling his feet!
They both stared up at him. Easy to read, Makayla widened her owl eyes in surprise, and Athena blushed a rosy stain across her high cheekbones. He saw her try to conceal her reaction by turning away to study her calendar. But he felt her excitement. It matched his own.
“Drew, you must be psychic. I was just going to call you. The board wants to recognize your generous contribution at a black tie dinner this week. We need to discuss the details. Perhaps we could meet later today?”
He didn’t miss the playful glint in her eyes. Regret and an edge of panic bit into him.
I leave for the Fastnet on Friday.
Tonight he needed to be at the harbor overseeing the dismantlement of his Wally to go to England.
Regret and desire ate at his gut. “Tomorrow would be better. Say at five?”
Both their iPhones buzzed at the same moment with text messages. His from the harbor.
“The staff meeting,” she murmured, then looked up at the ceiling and shook her head, like she saw something.
He looked up, too, but all he saw was a pale cream ceiling and heavy wooden crown moldings that looked exactly like carved faces at three corners.
“Will tomorrow work for you?” he asked, looking for an excuse to linger, hoping Makayla had a reason to leave them alone for a second. He wanted to pull Athena into his arms, carry her to that red sofa, and make love to her for hours, days, weeks, forever.