He glanced at the renovated mill, remembering how Mark had talked about what could be done with it—neither of them ever imagining he’d be the one to make it happen. But they were both doers, achievers, guys who made things happen, unlike their dreamer father, who liked to sit around and think about making things happen. Still, he’d done all right, hadn’t he? By Gabe’s standards, absolutely. By his dad’s standards for himself...he was a failure, living in a small New England town, working as a car mechanic.
Nothing Gabe wanted to think about now. He glanced at his phone and saw he had a text from Felicity.
I have a call at noon with your event manager.
Gabe stared at the text. Event manager? Since when did he have an event manager? And who the hell was it? Maybe it was Felicity talk for one of the hats Shannon wore as his assistant. “You don’t want to be a control freak, Gabe,” she’d told him. “I’ve been fired by control freaks. They bulldoze everyone in their way and they’re inefficient. You want a life? Friends? A loyal staff? Delegate.”
He’d delegated planning twice-a-year retreats to get his staff together to Shannon, but that was it. She’d have managed any contacts with the resorts. He texted her: Made it to KB. Let me know if you need anything for your call with Felicity MacGregor.
Glad you made it. What call?
Shannon didn’t forget calls. Gabe typed his response: Did we hire an event manager to coordinate with Felicity?
No. No need. Do you want me to get in touch with her and sort this out?
He read Felicity’s note again. No. TY. All okay there?
Eating too many doughnuts. Enjoy your hometown.
* * *
He texted Felicity: Just got your text. Who is your call with?
When she didn’t answer immediately, he tossed his phone onto the seat next to him. He drove out to the house, but her Land Rover wasn’t in the driveway. He wasn’t going to hunt her down over a phone call. If she needed his help, she’d be in touch.
He backed out of the driveway, onto the narrow road and into the shade of a tall sugar maple he’d climbed as a boy. He didn’t think Felicity had ever climbed it, but maybe she had.
“Damn,” he said under his breath.
Being back here wasn’t easy, but it was good—and it was necessary.
He’d head to Carriage Hill Road, check out the setup for tomorrow and say hi to Dylan and Olivia. So far, his reentry into his hometown and Felicity’s life was going just fine, despite the bursts of nostalgic memories. To be expected, and reasonably under control.
Seven
Felicity entered Smith’s, a house converted into a restaurant—the only restaurant—in Knights Bridge village, on a side street off the town green. After a brief conversation on the phone, she and Nadia Ainsworth had agreed to meet for lunch. Smith’s wasn’t crowded on the warm summer afternoon, and Felicity recognized the smattering of people there, except for a woman alone at a booth. The woman—in her early forties, with long, auburn-dyed hair—rose and waved. Felicity waved back and joined her. “Nadia?” she asked. “I’m Felicity MacGregor.”
“I thought so. Thanks for coming.”
Nadia was dressed professionally in slim black pants, a white blouse and a lightweight camel-colored jacket. A bit formal for Knights Bridge, maybe, but Felicity tended to go in the opposite direction and sometimes felt she should be less casual. She sat across from Nadia, who already had a glass of iced tea in front of her.
“What a great place,” Nadia said, returning to her seat. “I’ve heard the turkey clubs are to die for and the pies are not to be resisted—although I’m not sure pie is ever to be resisted. You got here quickly. I thought you lived farther from the village. I hope you didn’t run any red lights.”
“There are no lights,” Felicity said with a smile. “I’m out on the river. It’s not that far. How can I help you?”
“Please, order something to drink first. I took the liberty of ordering us each a turkey club. I have a feeling we could have split one. I’ve been watching plates get delivered to various tables. They do believe in big portions out here in the country. I guess a gigantic sandwich makes sense if you plan to run ten miles or chop a cord of wood or something this afternoon.” She smiled, her tone cheerful and casual without any overt condescension. “I like to walk.”
“You’re from California?”
“Mmm. Malibu. I’m out here on family business. Did you tell Gabe I was calling you?”
That struck Felicity as an odd question. Wouldn’t he know? The waiter arrived, and she ordered iced tea.
Nadia lifted her glass of iced tea. “This entire boot camp event is very last minute, as you know. Sorry if we’re cutting any corners.”
“Happy to help if I can.”
“I hear your hesitancy,” Nadia said. “I don’t blame you. This party’s a big deal, and you don’t know me from a fence post, as they say. That’s why I suggested we meet in person.”
“When did you get in?”
“I arrived in Boston late yesterday and drove out here this morning. Gabe’s here, too, isn’t he? I spoke to his assistant. Shannon Rivera. She’s incredible, but she’s very protective—you’d think she was with the Secret Service sometimes. We’ve both worked with Gabe since the early days. But you’ve known him forever, haven’t you?”
“We both grew up here.”
“This is my first time in Knights Bridge. It’s adorable.”
Felicity smiled. “It has its charms.”
Her iced tea and the two club sandwiches arrived, made with Smith’s signature roast turkey. Nadia’s eyes widened. “I see I was right about the portion, but I bet I eat every bite. At least I didn’t order fries, and I did skip breakfast
