Undeniable Page 16

  I believed him.

  * * *

  Around eleven, we finally dragged ourselves from bed. Oliver held my hand as we walked to breakfast in the warm July sun, and I felt an inner calm I hadn’t felt in a long time—maybe forever.

  But in contrast, Oliver actually seemed a little nervous about something. He kept checking his watch, clearing his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. Over eggs and pancakes, I caught him staring into space with a concerned expression on his face.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “What? Oh, yeah. Fine.” He gave me his usual cocky grin and took another bite of his omelet.

  But it happened again while we were waiting for the check. “Hey.” I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes. “What’s going on in there? Something is on your mind.”

  He frowned. “Sorry. I think it’s just the family thing. I’d rather hang out with you but we have to head to Harbor Springs pretty soon.”

  “It’s fine, Oliver. We’ll hang out there for a couple days, and then we can leave. I really don’t mind.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We should probably head down to Detroit so you can show me around the distillery, right? I mean, I am the majority owner now.” I gave his foot a little kick under the table.

  That made him smile. “Right. Hey want to walk around the dunes a little more before we hit the road?”

  “Sure. If you don’t think your mom will be upset we’re coming later.”

  “We’ll make it in time for dinner, and that’s good enough.”

  A walk around the dunes turned into another romp in the sack, and we didn’t get out of bed until the management banged on the door at three o’clock.

  Laughing, we quickly got dressed and hit the road.

  “Need anything from home?” he asked me as we approached Traverse City. “We can easily stop.”

  “No. I have everything I need, and we’re late already.”

  “Are you sure?” He grabbed my hand and kissed it. “I don’t mind stopping. Hell, maybe we should skip the cottage altogether and just spend the night alone.”

  “We can’t do that,” I chided. “Your parents are expecting us, Oliver. Let’s just get there.”

  He sighed. “Fine.”

  For a little while, we listened to music and talked about the rye and what steps we’d have to take in terms of the business on paper. Oliver seemed in good spirits, relaxed and happy. But gradually, he went silent, and I noticed the nervous rubbing of his neck again. The furrowed brow. The tight grip of his hand on the wheel.

  I wanted to ask him about it, but I didn’t want to be annoying. Family dynamics were complicated, and spending time with everyone under one roof could be stressful. Maybe that’s all it was.

  Around five o’clock, we drove up the long, winding driveway at his parents’ place. There were several other cars parked in front of the house, and Oliver pulled up next to the last car in the row and turned off the engine.

  I unbuckled my seatbelt, but before I could open the door, Oliver put a hand on my leg and cleared his throat. “Chloe, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “What?”

  He turned to me and took my hand. “First, I want to say that the past two days have been amazing. I’ve never been so excited about my life.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Like I said, this thing with you and me was not part of my plan when I drove up here, but it was the best surprise ever. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance I don’t deserve, but I’m taking it all the same.”

  I smiled. “You better.”

  “And I’ve meant every single word I’ve said. I need you to know that.”

  My stomach flipped over. Not in a good way. “Okayyy.”

  “Before we go in there—”

  “Is that my parents?” Another car had pulled up next to us on the driver’s side, and I could have sworn it was my father at the wheel and my mother in the front seat. It looked like their Cadillac too.

  “Oh, shit.” Oliver looked out the window. “I think it is.”

  “What are they doing here?”

  “My parents must have convinced them to come up for dinner.”

  Sure enough, my mother hopped out of the passenger seat and waved happily. “Hello there!”

  “Hi, Mom!” I called, waving back. Then I squeezed Oliver’s hand. “Sorry. Maybe we can finish this talk later?”

  “Uh. Yeah.” His faced looked a little pale.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine.” He gave me a smile that was slightly less reassuring than I wanted it to be.

  But I opened the door and got out, heading around the car to greet my parents. “What are you guys doing here?” I asked, giving them both hugs.

  “Nell called this morning and said we had to come up for the night,” my mother said as my father pulled their bags from the trunk.

  “Oh, really?” I laughed. “I wonder why.”

  “She said there would be something happening I wouldn’t want to miss.”

  “She did?” I glanced over my shoulder at Oliver, who was grabbing our bags from the back of his SUV. “I wonder what it is.”

  “Probably just a ruse to get us up here,” said my father as he shut the trunk.

  “Is April watching the desk?” I asked.

  “Yes. Mack and Frannie are both working overtime too,” my mother said as we made our way toward the front porch. “I think they even drafted Mack’s girls to work.”

  I laughed as we climbed the steps. “Good. We’re going to need extra help. Oliver and I have big plans for Cloverleigh.”

  “Do you?” My mother glanced back and forth between us, obviously thrilled. “I can’t wait to hear about them.”

  The front door of the cottage flew open and Oliver’s mom appeared. She was slender and maintained her physique with plenty of tennis and golf. Her shoulder-length hair was the same shade of auburn it had been as long as I’d known her, and she always wore it down with a headband that matched her outfit—today it was white shorts, a hot pink cardigan sweater set, Jack Rogers sandals, and pearls. Always pearls.

  “Hello, darlings!” she called. “I’m so happy you’re all here!”

  “Sorry we’re late,” I said as she embraced me. Her perfume smelled like lilies of the valley. “We got a slow start this morning.”

  She released me and winked. “I totally understand. Don’t worry about a thing, I’m just delighted you’re here. I’m delighted about absolutely everything!”

  I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, but I smiled. “Me too.”

  There was a whirlwind of hugs and kisses and greetings. Uncle Soapy came in to give stiff hugs and hearty back slaps. Oliver took our bags upstairs, then came down and took my parents’ luggage up as well. Hughie came in to shake my father’s hand and kiss my mother’s cheek. Aunt Nell shuffled us all through the house and out to the back patio. Through it all, I barely had time to exchange a glance with Oliver, but every time I looked at him, he seemed a little more miserable.

  Out on the back patio, Soapy made drinks at the “bar,” which was really just a table set up with glasses, ice, and bottles of gin, vodka, scotch, and mixers. The rest of the extended Pemberton family gathered on the patio—Lisa, pregnant Charlotte and her husband Guy, Lisa and Hughie’s children, Joel and Toddy, and of course, Gran.

  She ambled over, tiny and frail but still stylish in her trousers and blouse, a sweater draped over her shoulders and a strand of pearls around her neck. Her hairstyle was identical to Oliver’s mother’s, but the color was entirely silver. She held a G & T in one hand and the handle of a cane in the other.

  “Hello, Gran. Happy birthday.” Oliver dutifully kissed her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

  “Never better, darling. Thank you.” She turned to me. “So good to see you, Chloe. I couldn’t be happier about everything.”

  Again I wondered what the heck everyone was so happy about—did they know a
bout the business already? “I’m so glad to hear it. Happy birthday.” I kissed her cheek. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. You’re looking well.”

  She laughed graciously. “Thank you, dear. I try. I’ve got two new hips now, did Oliver tell you?”

  “He didn’t.” I winked at her. “But you know men. They forget all the important things.”

  She winked back. “They certainly do. If you just accept that, you can avoid a lot of fights in married life.”

  “Gran, can I get you a chair?” Oliver asked. “Why don’t you come sit down?”

  “Thank you, dear, but I think I’m going to go up to my room for a little rest before dinner. I don’t want to fall asleep before the excitement.”

  “Sounds good, I’ll help you up the stairs,” said Oliver quickly, taking her arm. “Be right back, Chloe.”

  “No rush.” I smiled and let my mother tug me over to the bar, where Uncle Soapy poured me a drink. I sipped it and smiled and chatted with everyone, keeping one eye on the patio door, watching for Oliver.

  When he came out about fifteen minutes later, he grabbed a drink from the bar and came over to where I sat with my parents. He took a great big gulp before sitting in the chair next to me.

  “Everything okay?” I asked him.

  “Everything is great,” he said.

  But he wouldn’t meet my eye.

  Everyone wanted to know about our business venture, so we described our trip to South Manitou, regaled them with the story of Jacob Feldmann, told them all about the farm we wanted to purchase, about the heritage rye we wanted to plant, about our plans to build new facilities at Coverleigh in a partnership with Brown Eyed Girl. I blushed listening to Oliver heap praise on my marketing skills, on all I’d accomplished at Cloverleigh, at how thrilled he was I’d agreed to work together.

  He went into his usual showman mode as he told the tale of Jacob and Rebecca, and he seemed to recover some of his usual charisma and spark in front of the crowd. We stayed mum about our personal relationship, although he did take my hand at one point, and I know my mother noticed. She and Aunt Nell exchanged what can only be described as an Aren’t They Adorable look, as if we were five years old again.

  But his leg was twitching beneath the table, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something with him was off.

  20

  Oliver

  NOW

  I was starting to panic.

  Somehow, I had to get Chloe alone and tell her the whole story and why it was necessary, but I didn’t see how it would be possible before dinner. My mother, who, as predicted, had no poker face whatsoever, was already ushering us from the patio into the house.

  “Dinner is nearly ready, everyone,” she said. “After you change and freshen up, we’ll all meet in the library for cake and champagne in ten minutes. We have to do it before dinner, since Mother gets tired easily. I guess when you’re ninety, you get to have dessert before your vegetables!”

  Everyone laughed, while I thought, fuck—ten minutes is not going to be enough time to explain things.

  But it was all I had.

  I grabbed her by the hand and tugged her toward the stairs ahead of everyone else. But just as we reached the landing, my mother caught up with us.

  “Darlings, I have you together in Oliver’s old room,” she said with a knowing smile. “I hope that’s okay. With John and Daphne here too, there weren’t quite enough bedrooms for you each to have your own.”

  “It’s fine,” Chloe said.

  “Normally, I wouldn’t put two unmarried people together in a room with Gran here. It’s a bit too contemporary for her,” my mother whispered. “But I’m a modern woman myself, and I’m sure you two will want to stay together tonight.” Suddenly she threw her arms around Chloe. “I’m just so happy. I hope you don’t mind I invited your parents. I just thought they should be here for this occasion.”

  Jesus Christ, Mom.

  Chloe looked at me from over my mother’s shoulder, her eyebrows rising. No doubt she was confused about what occasion this could be. “I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s fun to have everyone together again. It’s been a long time.”

  “It has.” My mother released Chloe and looked back and forth between us, her eyes growing misty. “But just think of all the years we’ll have to bring the families together.”

  “We need to go change now, Mom.” I grabbed Chloe’s hand and began pulling her up the stairs. “We’ll see you in the library in ten minutes.”

  “Don’t be late, darling,” she called up.

  I practically dragged Chloe down the hall to my old bedroom at the cottage, shutting the door behind us. It looked much the same as it had when I was a kid, except the two twin beds were replaced with a queen when I was in high school. Same navy blue and kelly green color scheme. Same sailboat-themed curtains and wallpaper. Same art on the walls—mostly paintings of harbors at sunset.

  “Your mom is acting a little strange,” Chloe said, going over to her bag, which was on a bench at the foot of the bed. “Don’t you think?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I started pacing back and forth between the bench and the dresser. “But I can probably explain that.”

  “You’re acting a little strange too.” Chloe looked at me funny as she took off her shoes and unzipped her bag. “Is something wrong?”

  My gut was churning, and I ran a hand through my hair. I’d prepared a speech for this, but I couldn’t remember a single word of it. Dammit, why’d I drink that scotch on the patio?

  “Hey.” Chloe came over to me and slipped her arms around my waist. “Talk to me.”

  I looked down at her concerned expression, at the place where I knew her dimples would appear if she were smiling. And I couldn’t bear to think I’d never see them again. This plan had seemed so brilliant before I’d fallen for her.

  “It’s nothing,” I said, hating myself. “I’m just tired after the long drive, and my family can be a bit much.”

  “Can’t everyone’s?” She gave me a quick kiss on the chin and went back to rummaging through her bag. “What are you wearing to dinner? Should I wear my dress?”

  “Casual is fine.”

  “I should probably wear the dress,” she said with a sigh. “Your mom and grandmother’s idea of casual isn’t really the same as mine. Do you mind seeing me in it again?”

  “Not at all.” I watched as she removed her shorts and shirt and bra, slipping the white dress over her head. My blood warmed a little at the sight of her breasts, but I couldn’t bring myself to go over and touch her. I didn’t deserve it.

  “I hope this isn’t too wrinkled. Shouldn’t you change?” she asked me, tying the drawstring at her waist. “We only have a few more minutes.”

  Fuck!

  “I have to tell you something,” I blurted.

  “Okay.” She pulled her sandals from her bag, dropped them to the floor, and dug around in her bag some more. “Where’s my hairbrush? Did I stick it in here? I hope I didn’t leave it at the hotel.”

  “It has to do with my inheritance,” I went on, feeling a sweat break out on my back. I could’ve sworn I heard the tick of a clock somewhere in the room.

  “Oh, there it is.” She pulled a brush from her bag and came over to use the mirror above the dresser, standing next to me. “What about your inheritance?”

  I swallowed hard. My throat was dry as the fucking desert. “Uh, as you know, I was granted partial access to my trust fund after I finished graduate school, when I was twenty-five. Right before I ran into you in Chicago.”

  “Right. I remember.” She pulled the brush through her long, dark hair in rhythmic strokes.

  “And the thing is … I sort of … um, blew it.”

  She paused with the brush in the air. In the mirror, she met my eyes and blinked. “You blew it? All of it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “On what?”

  The knots in my stomach tightened. “Uh, partying. Playing. Being irresponsible.�
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  “Jesus Christ, Oliver. That had to be a lot of money.”

  “It was.”

  “What possessed you?”

  “I was running away. From family, from responsibility.” I swallowed again. “From you.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “I knew I was making a huge mistake, but I didn’t want to face it. I just thought, fuck it, if I’m going to mess up my life, I might as well have a good time doing it. I was looking to numb the guilt I felt. It was idiotic and immature, and I’ll always regret it.”

  “So how did you start Brown Eyed Girl?” she asked, turning around and leaning back against the dresser.

  “When I finally came to my senses, I returned home and scraped up just enough to get going. The distillery does well, and I think with the expansion it will do even better, but it’s going to take some serious cash to implement the plans we’ve been discussing.”

  “The land.” Chloe came off the dresser, her eyes going wide as she started to panic. “Oh my God, Oliver—if you don’t have the money, how are we going to buy the land on South Manitou? How are we supposed to build a facility at Cloverleigh?”

  “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

  It might have sounded more convincing if my voice hadn’t cracked on the word plan.

  “A plan? Oliver, everything hinges on your capital. I don’t have anything to invest, and Cloverleigh doesn’t have any liquid assets.”

  I tried to stand taller and speak more confidently. “It’s going to be okay, Chloe.”

  “But we promised the Feldmanns cash up front! Those were our exact words to them. If we have to go through a bank and get a loan, they’ll take that other guy’s offer, and there goes our land. There goes our story. There goes our hope.” She bit her lip. “I wish you would have told me this before.”

  I took her by the shoulders, forcing her to face me. “Do you still want to do this with me?”

  She looked torn. “Well—yes. I mean, I’m not happy you didn’t tell me about the money, but …”