The Confession (3 page)

“So are you originally from New York?” He attempted to keep his tone light.

“I grew up in North Carolina, but moved there after college.”

“What did you do in New York?”

“I ran a boutique. How about you? Are you from San Francisco?”

His eyes narrowed. He knew she was trying to change the subject. It seemed like a harmless question. He wondered if he was coming across like an interrogator. He decided to let it go for now and try to keep the conversation light and friendly. “Born and raised,” he said, looking around. “In fact, I’ve spent most of my life right here.”

Aimee looked surprised. The silence lingered for a moment before Mark added, “Emily kicked me out of the big house and into the cottage right after college.” He smiled at the memory. “She said I was overly protective and I needed my own life, even if I wouldn’t leave to find it.”

“You’ve never wanted to leave here, to have your own home somewhere?”

“No. Not really. I love it here.”

“What about your parents?”

“My mother lived here as well until I left for college, then she caught the traveling bug. She’s been jet-setting the globe ever since.” He refused to give his father any thought.

“So is your family related to Emily in some way?”

He could swear she was actually holding her breath as she awaited his response.

“Not in the blood sense of the word, but she’s family to us.”

She nodded. Her expressive face told him a lot more than her words, and he wasn’t sure why she was so cautious about asking the questions she obviously wanted to, or why he was so hesitant to offer her any more information than he was.

“Brothers and sisters?” he asked, hoping to keep the twenty questions game going.

“One sister, you?”

“Just me. Are you close to your family?”

“I was to my dad. Not so much my mother or sister. We have a … I suppose the best word would be strained. We have a strained relationship.”

Her face appeared pained. He almost believed that the strain she spoke of was something she didn’t understand and something she wished was different. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Changing the subject again, she said, “I’m sorry I interrupted your work earlier. I didn’t realize there was another cottage out here when I first came through.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything. I was staring at a blank screen.”

She looked at him with confusion.

“I have this wild notion that I’ll write a book someday. Or rather Emily ‘sees great potential in my future as a storyteller.’” He laughed. “When I was a little kid I would make up stories to cheer Emily up. As I grew up, the stories became more elaborate. She loved them and thinks I should write them down to be published.”

“Was she sad often?”

He stared at her, slightly taken aback by her question. The tone of his voice grew sharp. “Regardless of what it looks like from the outside, she hasn’t lived a completely charmed life. She’s gone through more than most, and more than anyone should.”

“I … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest … ” she muttered, her face flushed.

He looked at her genuinely apologetic expression. He felt like a heel. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to pry.” Aimee quickly rose from the table. Thanking him for the wine, she mumbled something about her early morning and hurried back toward her cottage.

He knew he’d acted like an ass. He wanted to go and apologize but felt glued to the chair. He watched her leave, torn between his suspicions of her, and his baffling urge to pull her into his arms and chase the sadness from her eyes.

The next morning, Aimee let herself in through the French doors in the back of the main house as she’d been instructed. The room was beautiful, with large comfortable sofas crowded with warm colored throw pillows, a big fireplace surrounded by bookshelves, and an abundance of green plants. It was inviting and full of bright sunlight.

“You must be Aimee.”

She turned and nodded at the warm face of the woman welcoming her. The woman’s skin was the color of melted chocolate, her hair the color of salt and pepper, pulled back into a bun, and her tooth-filled smile stretched from ear to ear. She wore a simple, soft gray dress partially covered by an apron with roosters walking across the bottom. Her eyes were gentle, but it was apparent those eyes didn’t miss a thing.

“I’m Mimsey. It’s very nice to meet you. Have you eaten breakfast? Emily and Marcus are just sitting down to theirs.” Mimsey started from the room and, turning back to Aimee, bopped her head toward the door, inviting her to follow.

“I have eaten, thank you. Emily left some delicious muffins in the cottage yesterday.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them,” Mimsey replied, her face conveying her obvious pride. “Come and join the others. I’ll pour you some coffee.”

They walked through the main entry, and in through the closed doors leading to the kitchen. Mark and Emily were seated at a small table in the corner, each sipping from a coffee cup and deep in conversation.

“Good morning, Aimee,” Emily said, motioning for her to take the empty seat next to her. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well, thank you.” She looked over at Mark, his eyes watchful. She mumbled “Good morning” to him as she sat down and thanked Mimsey for the steaming cup of coffee she placed in front of her.

She took a small sip of the hot liquid and listened to the banter going on between Emily and Mark. They were so comfortable together. Aimee wondered if she could have that ease with Emily. She wanted that desperately. Would Emily understand why she took the job as her assistant? Would she appreciate the thought behind it and not think of it as deception? She simply wanted to know her, needed to know her. So how come she still felt deceitful? Emily seemed to be such an amazing woman, nothing at all like Aimee had pictured. Not that she’d really known what to expect, but Emily’s warmth and openness surprised her. Maybe she’d been living with disapproval for too long.

Mark waved his hands pointing to an invisible map as he discussed the day’s plans for the grounds. “I’m thinking of using natural stone for the pathways. With the abundance of flowerbeds on either side of the path, I want it to look as natural as the surrounding area.”

Emily’s face lit up. “I love that idea.”

Aimee scooted back in her chair and continued to sip her coffee while Emily talked about the rose garden being planted and the bench area she was having bricked in.

“I plan to sit in the sunlight, reading my autographed copy of Mark’s book, surrounded by the scent of my roses.”

Aimee stifled a giggle when Mark rolled his eyes. She pictured him sitting in front of his blank computer screen last night, and knew Emily’s future plans for her rose garden would take longer than she thought.

She glanced over and noticed Mark looking intently at her, while Emily continued to discuss the different varieties of roses being planted this week. She bit her lower lip and looked back down, uncomfortable with his blatant scrutiny. She raised her eyes again and found him still watching her. His bright blue eyes never left hers, even when he responded to Emily. Aimee began to squirm in her chair as she felt the heat rise on her cheeks.

She turned her focus to Emily, trying to ignore the tension she felt. Last night hadn’t ended well, and Mark seemed angry with her. She wished she hadn’t asked the question she did, but was still unsure why he’d reacted with such venom. Still feeling his eyes on her, she became increasingly uneasy. She snapped her head up, fighting the urge to shout how rude it was to stare. He was no longer looking at her. She watched as both Mark and Emily appeared to have an entire conversation with only their eyes.

“Mark, Aimee and I are going to head up to the office, and then we’re having lunch with Peter, so we’ll just plan on seeing you at dinner,” Emily said, her voice sounding slightly irritated. She rose and pushed her chair under the table.

He stood as well. “Make sure you check on that report. We really shouldn’t be made to wait for something that important.” He glanced over at Aimee. Turning back to Emily, he added, “I’ll see you at dinner, and tell Peter hello for me.” He nodded his head at Aimee, his face devoid of emotion. “Enjoy your first day.”

Emily turned to face her. “Please don’t pay Mark any attention, he’s always grumpy in the morning.”

Aimee smiled awkwardly, and looking over her shoulder saw Mark still watching them. She was sure that the silent communication going on between Emily and Mark had nothing to do with Mark’s not being a morning person. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. One minute he was smiling at her, his dimples melting any sign of animosity. The next minute he was watching her with accusing eyes. She could swear that he was silently warning Emily. Of what, she had no idea.

“I think it’s a little more than his being grumpy,” she murmured, unaware that she’d spoken out loud.

Emily chuckled. “Mark needs to work on his manners, but he’s actually a very warm, loving man.”

Aimee grunted, and followed her out of the kitchen.

They walked up the stairs, through another set of French doors, and into a sprawling office. A large antique desk sat between two enormous windows, and a smaller desk sat to the right side. The office was cool and elegant, with beige walls lined with gold-framed awards and photographs. There were no curtains on the windows, allowing the sun to shine through. Vases filled with fresh flowers sat on the corner of each desk. Another vase sat on a small table, set between a couch and two matching wing back chairs covered in a darker beige fabric with small white pin stripes.

“Who’s Peter?” Aimee asked.

“He’s the charity coordinator from the Talbot Cancer Foundation,” Emily replied. “He’s helping with the auction. He’ll be working directly with us on this, and we’ll be spending a lot of time with him.”

Aimee stood in front of the photographs on the wall and walked from picture to picture. It was a who’s-who of the entertainment world, all photographed with Emily. Aimee’s mouth dropped when she came upon a picture of Emily with the President of the United States. Intermingled amongst the celebrities were photos of her with Mark as a young boy. In one of the photo’s Mark stood beside a beautiful olive-skinned woman with flowing black hair and a mirror image of his smile.

“That’s Mark’s mother, and my best friend, McKenzie Lee. Stunning, isn’t she?” Emily said.

“Stunning is an understatement,” Aimee replied. “I think she might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Emily laughed. “You should have seen her in high school. It wasn’t easy being her best friend.”

“How long have you two been friends?”

“Since birth, we like to say, but honestly since about fifth grade. We did everything together. We still do when she isn’t jetting off to remote areas of the world. She’s as amazing as she is beautiful. I miss her. I’m glad she’ll be home soon.”

Aimee couldn’t help but notice the look of pleasure that crossed Emily’s face. Aimee’s smile faded. She leaned in to get a closer look at one particular photograph. A young Emily stood in a long white wedding dress, her blond hair covered in a veil. A large diamond twinkled on her left hand as she clasped a bouquet of pink roses, her face alight with happiness. Standing beside her was a tall, handsome man in a black tuxedo.

“That’s my Nathan. Handsome devil, wasn’t he?” Emily looked lovingly at the framed picture. Walking over to her desk, she picked up another frame and handed it to Aimee. “This is my favorite picture of him.”

Aimee took a deep breath and with shaky hands, lifted the picture for a better look. Surrounded by a field of green grass, Nathan leaned back on his arms, and smiled with love at the photographer. His left eye was covered by a patch of blond hair, and his bare feet were crossed at the ankles. “Did you take this picture?”

“I did.”

“He loves you very much.”

“Yes he did, but what makes you say that?” Emily asked, looking back at the picture.

“It’s in his eyes. I can tell by the look on his face he’s deeply in love with the person behind the lens. Maybe that’s why it’s your favorite picture. You see it too.”

Emily’s eyes grew misty. “I suppose I do.” She gently took the frame from Aimee’s hand and with one last glance, placed it back onto her desk.

“Where is he now?”

“I lost him many years ago.” Emily walked behind her desk. Aimee could see her struggling with her emotions, but it was only a brief moment before they were back to business. “Let’s get you caught up on this auction before our meeting with Peter this afternoon.”

Aimee mumbled an “of course” and sat down across from Emily’s desk, while she tried to silence the unanswered questions running through her mind.

“So how was your first day in the trenches?” Mark asked, passing a bowl of fresh green beans to Aimee.

Aimee spooned the beans onto her china plate. Dinner was almost a formal affair in Emily’s house. “It was good, I think. Peter was very helpful in getting me caught up on the auction, and I met with the caterer this afternoon.”

“Aimee was amazing. Everyone loved her, and she handled herself like she’d been doing this for years. I think our poor Peter might even have a little crush,” Emily said, winking at her.

Aimee felt the heat rise on her cheeks and looked over at Mark from under her lashes. She couldn’t read his reaction, but he was once again staring directly at her.

“If you want Peter to focus on work, maybe you shouldn’t hire such beautiful assistants.”

Aimee dropped her fork, causing it to clatter loudly against the china plate. With an embarrassed “excuse me” she silently lifted her fork into her mouth and chewed. She glanced at Emily and found her looking curiously at Mark.

After a lengthy stretch of silence, Emily finally asked, “How did the patio in the rose garden turn out?”

“It looks good. If you’d like, I’ll show you both the progress after dinner.”

Both of them nodded, just as Mimsey poked her head into the dining room.

“I’m sorry for the interruption, but there is a call for Aimee on the house phone. She said it was urgent.”