“You?” Unfortunately, the word comes out like a desperate shriek.
“I think I’ve proven myself to be an excellent pilot, Ms. Aragon.” His voice comes out forcefully—even angry.
“What happened to not being able to leave Baker’s Creek?” I ask, hoping that the question will calm him down. Henry's ego is fragile when it comes to his piloting skills, even when he denies it. “You do remember why you changed your residence, right?”
Among all the crazy stipulations he and his brothers need to comply with to receive their inheritance, they have to live in Baker’s Creek for eighteen months, in the Aldridge Mansion. They can’t leave the town—not even to Portland. So why is he saying, I’ll see you when you land?
“We were able to tweak a few of the stipulations on the will,” he states. “Pierce has been working hard to make this more efficient for all of us.”
“Well, great…” for you.
What’s great is the part where he can leave the town. Not the fact that he’ll be picking me up. He’s pretty good at multitasking, and I’m sure he’ll want me to work during the thirty-minute flight to the house.
“It’s a start,” he grumbles. “If you need me, please call. I’ll see you when you arrive.”
He hangs up, and I am tempted to text Blaire or Leyla, my best friends who are also stuck in Baker’s Creek, to find out more about the amendments. But I stop myself. I doubt either one will appreciate me calling them at almost three o’clock in the morning. Maybe I’ll text them in a couple of hours. One of them has to be available for a chat. This might be the last time I have to go to Baker’s Creek.
The last ten years of my life have been dreadful, but things are turning around for me. Free time and seventeen months in charge of Merkel Hotels & Spas. Of course, Henry is going to call me every three fucking minutes, but who cares about him? After almost three years of working for him, I can tune him out.
Just imagine, in less than two years I can apply for a new job with my new resumé where I will type in bold letters, maybe even in caps: INTERIM CEO of Merkel Hotels.
But before I can celebrate my new and improved life, I have to tie up all the loose ends this weekend. Instead of going to my parents’ house, I text my brother, Marco, and ask him to cover for me. Of course, he is willing to do it in exchange for using my place. I should say no because he’s either bringing the flavor of the month or having a party.
The alternative is… Well, there’s no alternative. He’s my only chance.
Everyone else is too busy to check on my parents during the mornings—which is why they put me in charge of that shift. Unlike my siblings and my cousins, I don’t have a partner, children, or a business to take care of, and therefore I am the one assigned to the early time slot.
It serves me just fine. I have an excuse to ignore Henry for a couple of hours, and I can spend time with Mom and Dad while it’s just the three of us. It can get pretty noisy when everyone else is visiting them.
By nine in the morning, I’m in the car service on the way to the hangar when my phone rings. It’s Blaire.
“Hey, chica!” she greets me. “How are you?”
“You sound too happy,” I state.
“Henry just told me you’re on your way home,” she says excitedly. “Of course, I’m happy. I get to spend more time with you. Plus, my man just brought me breakfast in bed.”
“Croissants and a tea latte?” I guess.
“No,” she answers. “The baby hates croissants…and me. I’m drinking ginger tea and toast.”
“The baby doesn’t hate you, babe,” I hear Hayes, her dreamy fiancé, reassure her. “Hurry up so we can go for a walk around town.”
“No run today?”
“Until I stop puking half of what I eat, I am not allowed to run. Doctor’s orders,” she informs me, and her voice carries some annoyance.
I’m pretty sure the doctor she’s talking about is Hayes. I’m glad he is the one limiting her physical activity.
“If you were your doctor, you’d be doing the same,” I state. Last weekend she almost fainted during our morning run, scaring the crap out of me.
She sighs. “That’s not why I am calling.”
“Do you need me to bring you something from New York or Portland?”
“Yes, can you please drop by the P.O. Box we have in Portland? There’s a package that I need urgently,” she mumbles the last words. “I tried to get your boss to do it for me, but he said he can’t make frivolous trips.”
I chuckle, “Sure. I can pretend that I sent something this week for myself. I’ll tell him it’s feminine products to make him feel uncomfortable. Anything else?”
“No, I—”
“Hey, are you on the phone with Sophia?” Henry interrupts her. “Give me that phone, I need to speak to her.”
“Nope, I’m talking to my mother. You can always speak to Mom and get some tips about morning sickness and sex during pregnancy,” she lies, and I chuckle when he grumbles.
There’s a clicking sound on the other line and when I check, it’s Henry calling me.
“I need to go. He’s already on the other line,” I complain.
“Good luck,” she says before hanging up.
Once the line goes dead, I remember about the amendments to the will. How did I forget to ask about them? Whatever they changed will affect me. What if Henry can come back to New York?
While I’m on the phone with him, I barely pay any attention to the conversation. He’s just confirming that I brought everything he requested earlier today. Like I can afford to make a mistake. He lives in a world where everything is black and white. One simple error can cost anyone their job—not that I allow it. I always find a way to keep those employees working for us. His rage is incomparable with any human I’ve ever met, but I don’t let him intimidate me.
Once I arrive at the airport, I say, “Mr. Aldridge, I’m about to board the plane. Do you need any further assistance?”
“No, just tell the captain he has his orders,” he informs me. “Have a safe trip, Ms. Aragon.”
Julian, the driver helps me with the boxes and my bag. After they set them inside the jet, I board it and give the pilot Henry’s message.
He rolls his eyes and walks to the cockpit. I take my seat, listen to the flight attendant give the usual instructions through the intercom, and once we’re thirty thousand feet above ground, she approaches me with a champagne flute and a tray.
“Bellini, strawberries, and a lightly toasted croissant,” she says, when she picks up the metal lid.
I stare at the plate and then look at her. “Thank you?”
It sounds better than how do you know that’s my favorite drink and that I love to eat strawberries while enjoying it, right?
“Mr. Aldridge requested them earlier today,” she explains without me prompting her.
I nod, intrigued and…impressed. Why would he bother ordering me…what is this, lunch?
A part of me wants to send him a message to thank him for being so thoughtful. The other part wants to ask what he wants from me. He’s never this nice. Ever.