Identity, page 28
He expected the pause, and maybe a moment of confusion. He got both.
“Ah, seeing Morgan,” Drea said slowly, “as in dating?”
Nell gave Miles the sharp eye. “As in sleeping with, Mom. Damn it, Miles.”
“Sorry. Did you want to sleep with her?”
“Aren’t you just adorable? Are there not enough women in Vermont you can choose from without sleeping with someone who works at the resort, and in my department?”
“Apologies again. I’ve run through all the others. She was the only one left. Once I’m done with her, I’m hitting on New Hampshire.”
“All right, kids.” Their father held his hands up, palms out. “That’s enough. First, this is Miles’s personal life, and he’s entitled to it just like the rest of us. Next. Everyone at this table, everyone who knows him would have no reason, whatsoever, to think he’d in any way coerce or pressure any woman, any employee into a sexual relationship.”
“Morgan may not feel that way.”
Liam let out an impatient hiss as he turned to his sister. “Come on, Nell, Morgan’s worked for us long enough to give a solid impression. If she felt pressured, and I don’t buy that, not with Miles, she’d come to you, or Grand, or Mom. Or, more likely, she’d tell Miles to back right off. I’ve seen her handle guests who come close to the line. So have you.”
“I also know she’s coming out of a trauma. Major trauma, and one that’s not over.”
“I’m aware.” He spoke coolly—a clear warning signal. “And you’re crossing the line if you think I’d take advantage of that.”
“I don’t. I’m saying she might. I need to talk with her. I do,” she pressed before Miles could speak. “I’m her direct supervisor. I’m responsible.”
“I have something to say.”
When Lydia Jameson spoke, no one interrupted.
“Rory is right in that this is Miles’s personal life, and his family needs to respect that. And his family should trust him, as he’s never given any of us reason to do otherwise.
“Nell is right,” she continued. “Though I have no doubt Miles is confident this relationship is on mutual and even ground, Nell, as Morgan’s supervisor, should have an open and frank discussion with Morgan. She’s Olivia Nash’s granddaughter, and so I have no doubt Liam is also right. If she didn’t want a relationship of this nature with Miles, she would make that clear.
“But,” she continued after a pause, “we can’t forget what she’s been through, is still dealing with. Nell, I think we’d all appreciate it if you’d arrange to have a private conversation with Morgan tomorrow. I expect you’ll have the answers and responses that allow all of us to let two unencumbered adults live their personal lives.”
“I’ll arrange it.”
“That’s settled then.” Mick knocked a fist lightly on the table. “Miles will, no doubt, respect whatever Morgan has to say on the subject.”
“Of course I will.”
“She’s a very appealing young woman.” Mick smiled with it. “On several levels. And an asset to the resort. We look after our own. I’ll add if Miles wasn’t who Miles is, he wouldn’t have brought this up at the meeting. And now, let’s fire up the grill.”
Outside, Nell made a point to draw Miles away. And watching them, Drea winced.
“Let them hash it out.” Rory gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We didn’t raise shrinking violets.”
“That’s my worry. I’d hate to see this end up in a fight.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Not even close. But you’re right, let them hash it out. We can mop up the metaphorical blood later if necessary.”
Nell drew Miles around to the side of the house. “Listen, I have to do this.”
“So you’ve said, and so everyone agreed.”
“It’s not that I don’t know you, don’t trust you.”
“It isn’t?”
“No, and you damn well know it, so get off the high horse.”
“I couldn’t get in the saddle because you took up all the room.”
She paced a few feet away, paced back again. “You’re not going to piss me off.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Miles!” She threw up her hands, then tapped her fists against her temples. “You can sympathize, you can be outraged about the idea of someone in power pressuring—in subtle or overt ways—a woman to have sex. But you can’t know what it’s like to be in that woman’s position.”
“And you do?”
“Yes, I do. I know what it’s like to feel cornered by a guy who thinks I should be interested, or grateful, or compliant. And—”
“Hold the hell on.” Taking her by the arms, he stared down at her. “Who? Who did that?”
She gave him a look, both affectionate and disdainful at once.
“Do you want me to start reeling off names since high school? I’m not going to do that. I handled it, and I’ll keep handling. But I know what it’s like, and you just can’t. And yeah, Liam’s right. I’ve seen her handle herself. But you’re not a guest, not another member of the staff. You’re the boss. So I’m going to talk to her and establish there’s not any doubt or hesitation in her about having a sexual relationship with you.
“Is it just sexual?”
“Who’s asking? The head of Hospitality or my sister?”
“I guess, in this case, it’s your sister.”
“Then I don’t know yet.”
She nodded. “That’s fair. I never know either.”
“My sister doesn’t have sexual relationships. She’s pure and untouched.”
“That’s right.” Now she patted his cheek. “Just like our mother, who conceived and bore three children through a chaste miracle.”
“That’s my theory.”
“I love you, Miles, and you didn’t piss me off, so you lose the bet.”
“Day’s not over.”
* * *
Nell went back and forth over where best to meet Morgan, and in the end texted a request to go to the Nash house on Monday at ten.
Somewhere, she thought, Morgan would feel comfortable, and after her family left for work so they’d have privacy.
When she arrived, Morgan answered the door quickly.
“Hi, thanks for seeing me. I’d forgotten what a lovely house this is. I don’t get out this way often.”
“Come on in. At first I was surprised you wanted to come by this morning, then I realized I shouldn’t have been.”
“Miles told you?”
“No, he hasn’t said anything. But I know you had a family meeting yesterday, so I guess it came up that Miles and I are seeing each other.”
“That’s just the term he used. Isn’t that interesting?”
“We’d better sit down. Why don’t we go to the great room? I can make coffee.”
“That’d be good. I have to say you can tell three women live here—and I mean that in the best possible way. It just looks feminine. Smells feminine. And oh, your yard! So pretty. I love the bird feeders.”
“Me, too. Coffee, latte, cappuccino—your choice.”
“I’d love a latte.”
“We’ll make that two. Have a seat.”
“There’s something so artistic and soothing about your backyard. I talked myself out of an apartment and bought a small house. Small enough, I told myself, so I could maintain it myself, with a yard small enough I could do the same.
“I failed.”
“I’m going to say that’s hard to believe.”
“Something always got neglected or put off. I’ll get to that tomorrow, or next week, and I know when you do that it’s just going to pile up. So I told myself I’d be more efficient if I hired someone to maintain it.”
“You’re giving people jobs that way, and paychecks,” Morgan pointed out.
“There’s that. And still, your backyard is so much more appealing and creative than mine. Is that wind chime from Crafty Arts?”
“It is.”
“I’m going to stop by there on my way to work and get one. Do you mind if we sit out on the patio?”
“One of my favorite spots.”
Chapter Twenty
When they sat at the patio table, Nell looked around one more time.
“I’d want to live out here. Do you drink your coffee-flavored milk and sugar out here every morning?”
“Usually.”
“Miles has a Zen place like this, and actually makes time to work in the garden every week unless he’s really slammed. I guess you know.”
“Yes, it’s beautiful.”
“Okay, well.” Nell tucked her hair, loose today, behind her ear. “I don’t want this to be awkward.”
“Too late.”
Nell made a small sound of agreement. “I guess there’s no avoiding the awkward. I wanted to talk to you here, your turf, your home, and not my office, so you’d be as comfortable as possible.”
“I appreciate that. I do. Can I cut to my personal end of the line and ask if you’re firing me?”
“What? Jesus, no! No. Toss that out right now.” As she spoke, Nell shot a hand in the air as if winging something away.
“Okay then.” Morgan breathed out. “I’ll throw out the worry and we can just stick with the awkward.”
“I wish it wasn’t awkward, because this is about your comfort, Morgan. I know Miles, obviously. I love Miles, but I stand—or sit right now—as your direct supervisor, and your support. I understand you and Miles now have a personal relationship, and I want you to tell me, to feel absolutely secure and safe in telling me, if you felt in any way pressured to enter that relationship. Even if Miles didn’t—”
“You can stop there because that’s a big, solid no. He didn’t pressure me, I didn’t feel pressured. He didn’t make any moves. I did, and I thought that’s why you might fire me.”
“Oh. A minute?” She lifted her coffee, drank. “He didn’t share that part, and of course he wouldn’t. He’s Miles. It would’ve been helpful. We’d still have had this conversation, but it would’ve been helpful.”
“I can be helpful. He was more than kind to me after I had the incident Friday night—a week ago on Friday night. You’d know about that.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry it happened.”
“So am I. I also felt, even prior to that, he might be interested in me. He never said or did anything, but— Oh hell, Nell, you know, right? When a man’s interested. You might misinterpret, but you get a sense.”
“All right, yes.”
“I wasn’t going to act on the fact I was interested back because I love my job, and I need it, but I baked him cookies.”
“Seriously?”
“My mother’s idea.”
“Oh, I get that, too.” Now she laughed, shook her head, drank more coffee. “So you baked him cookies.”
“With a lot of help, but yeah, then I was going to drop them off at his house, but I saw the turrets.”
“It’s a great house.”
“It really is, and then Howl came running out, and I was so charmed, and Miles looked so baffled. I asked to see inside the turret. I still wasn’t going to act on the attraction, I just really wanted to see. Then I was leaving, and…”
“Oh, don’t stop now.”
“And I just felt what I felt was mutual, so I asked if he was attracted or interested, and he was so careful I figured I’d misinterpreted. But then he said I hadn’t, and we sort of talked through the situation and how to put that whole thing aside—mutually. Then I made my move, and one thing led to another.”
Morgan shrugged. “Is that helpful enough?”
“He’d never have told me all that. I’m glad you did.”
“If this is going to cause any problems … I don’t know what to do. The job, living here with my ladies, now Miles? It all makes me feel more myself than I have in so long. I don’t want to give any of it up.”
“Why would you? You’re an excellent manager, this is a lovely home that feels happy with it. And though as my brother, Miles can irritate the crap out of me, he’s an interesting man, with a strong moral code. I needed to know where you stood and how you felt, and why. Now I do, and can say this now sits as your personal business.”
“Good. Thanks. And whew. I know I’m probably not his usual type.”
“I don’t think he has one.”
“Well, I mean like that woman he was seeing not that long ago.”
“Carlie Wineman? Please.” Nell rolled her eyes. “I know a ladder-climber when I see one, and okay, I didn’t see it for a while. And I shouldn’t say any of this, but the hell with it. I’m now Miles’s sister, not head of Hospitality, and I’m going to say this. She’s gorgeous and knows how to show off her looks. She knows art and wine, skis like a champ, speaks French like a native.”
“None of this inspires self-confidence.”
“I’m not done. After a while—it took awhile, because she could be very charming—I realized Miles was a step up for her. Socially, financially. And more, she just liked the way they looked as a couple. Everything about her is about as deep as a rain puddle, except her vanity.”
“All right, maybe a dribble of self-confidence coming back.”
“I like you. I like you for Miles. I don’t know if this is just a sex thing, but—”
“I don’t know either.”
“Understandable. Once I got to know Carlie, I didn’t like her. And I really didn’t like her for Miles, and was thrilled when he broke things off. I do love my brother even when he pisses me off, which is with some regularity. I also piss him off with some regularity.”
“Because you’re so much alike.”
Over the rim of her cup, Nell shot a long, cool look. “Now you’ll piss me off.”
“You have to know that. You’re very self-aware. You came here because you wanted me to be comfortable and feel more in control. That’s kind and respectful. Miles is kind and respectful, he’s just more brusque about it. Liam’s more freewheeling, but you all get the job done, and well. Part of that’s work ethic, and part of it is a deep love for the family and the business it created.”
“Maybe you should’ve gone into psychology.”
“A good bartender is a psychologist who mixes drinks. Did you like that part of your training? Liam said you all trained in every area of the business.”
“Did he? Well, he’s right about that. I can’t say I liked the work, but I found the training valuable. It made me understand it’s a lot more than mixing those drinks.
“Now, though I’d like to just sit here for another hour in this spot—it reminds me what it is to relax—it’s not my day off. I have to go buy a wind chime, then get to work and let you get back to your day off.”
“I’m glad you came by.”
“So am I.” Nell rose. “I don’t make real friends easily, but tend to keep the ones I make. And damn it, that’s exactly like Miles. Anyway, we should have lunch sometime.”
“Lunch?”
“Or drinks. And now it sounds like I’m asking you out. Maybe I am, in a way. A ‘let’s see if there’s a possible friendship in here’ sort of way.”
“I don’t make friends easily either. I’d like to try that kind of lunch or drinks.”
“Great. I’ll text you possible openings in my schedule, which is exactly why I don’t make friends easily.”
“I’m a big admirer of the schedule.”
“That’s a good launching point for possible friendship.”
They parted on those amiable terms, then Morgan sat and let the relief wash over her. She wasn’t going to be fired, she wouldn’t have to choose between the man and the job when she wanted both.
And, over and above it all, Miles had told his family.
“Turning around,” she said quietly. “It really feels like things are turning around.”
* * *
Gavin Rozwell enjoyed the balmy ocean breezes and the golden sands of the South Carolina beach. The local seafood suited his palate. While the view from his front deck afforded views of sea and sand and sunrise, he had to admit he missed the terrace of his hotel.
But when a man booked a hotel for a couple of months, he earned notice and talk. A man who rented a beach house didn’t. He’d have to make certain the reward was worth the sacrifice.
Here, he was Trevor Caine, a successful ghostwriter working on a project, and carving out time to—hopefully—finish his own too-long-neglected novel.
He’d gone for the casual scruffy look, as it seemed to reflect the beach setting and his current persona. He’d darkened his hair to a chestnut brown, added some sun-kissed highlights and a goatee. A spray tan completed the beachy look, along with a collection of shorts, T-shirts, distressed jeans.
He topped it off with a Mets fielder’s cap he’d battered a bit so it looked well-worn, and a pair of Ray-Bans.
He decided he not only looked the part but looked damn good.
While he did, occasionally, stroll on the beach, he spent most of his time at his laptop. Instead of writing, he continued his research, refined the outline of his plan.
His target, Quinn Loper, had her own beach house—with some very nice equity therein—owned and operated a cleaning company that serviced the rentals, contracted through the booking agency.
She no longer did any of the dirty work, and for a sliding scale of fees, offered wipe downs, deep cleanings, window washing, and so on to other locals.
Quinn had an MBA and a solid business. She also had well-off paternal grandparents who’d relocated from New York to Myrtle Beach when they’d retired, for the weather and the golf.
Her mother had died in an accident when Quinn was six—so sad! Boo-hoo!—and her widowed father moved her and her eight-year-old sister to South Carolina to be close to family.
Her father remarried seven years later and now lived in Atlanta. Her sister recently married another woman—he didn’t get that, but live and let. They bought an old plantation-style house in Charleston, rehabbed it—and ran a B and B.
An enterprising family!
He considered Quinn a prime choice. She’d been on his list for a couple of years, and since Fat Ass in New Orleans—big disappointment!—he’d gone deeper into his research.
