Wish I Might

  “Yeah, well, I just had my parents’ expectations. I imagine having an entire dynasty to live up to is rather a bigger burden.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. Davenports are born for greatness. With a hefty dose of social and civic responsibility thrown in.”

  “God save us both if my father ever hooks up with your granddaddy.”

  They shared a mutual shudder.

  “Still, in terms of the greatness department, I’d say you’ve done an admirable job. You’re the most talented graphic designer I’ve ever worked with. No frills, no fuss, just honest truth. I say that as your boss.”

  “And as my friend?”

  “I think greatness is in the eye of the beholder.” Norah crossed her legs and fixed those dark brown eyes on Cecily. “You said you weren’t finished here. What did you mean?”

  “I’m pretty sure I could work with you for a decade and still learn something from you every day. I don’t think I’ll ever feel finished with that.”

  “Much as it flatters me that you stayed to learn from me, you’re ready to move on and learn from someone else. But I don’t think this struggle is about the work. If it was, you’d have been gone by now. Either to one of your family’s companies or somewhere else. So what’s unfinished?”

  Cecily dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “I didn’t plan for Wishful. I never dreamed when I came down here after Chicago that I’d stay at all. Let alone that this place would get under my skin. I’ve done good work here. Work that’s made a difference. It’s incredibly gratifying to know that, when I do go, I’ve left this town a little better than I found it. I did that entirely on my own merits. Here I’m just Cecily Dixon. And it’s allowed me to keep pretending that I can just be this totally normal girl, that where I come from doesn’t matter.”

  She sat up. “But it does, even when I don’t want it to.”

  “How’s that, when you hide who you are?”

  She sounded like Christoff.

  “Because it’s stopped me from making choices, exploring options that I might otherwise have jumped at.”

  “What choices?”

  “You know, when you came back to Chicago and told me what you’d been doing down here, when I saw how incredibly happy you were with Cam, I thought to myself, ‘I want to be Norah when I grow up.’ I mean, I already wanted to be you professionally, but it just seemed like everything was lining up perfectly for you. I wanted that kind of happy. Do you remember what I said?”

  Norah laughed. “You asked if Cam had any single cousins.”

  “And you told me about Reed. I didn’t actually expect to come down here and have your good luck, but it was a nice fantasy.”

  Norah offered a sympathetic smile. “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was hoping for that for you too. But that’s not what happened. You and Reed never quite connected.”

  “I didn’t let it happen. And believe me, that took some serious work.”

  Norah frowned. “Why?”

  “Because, at the end of the day, whether I want to be or not, I’m a Davenport.”

  “Okay, promised myself I wasn’t going to get involved, but you’re going to have to explain that one. You’re about as far from a snob as you can get, so I know you don’t think he’s beneath you.”

  “No. I think he’s smart and funny and gorgeous. My family would love him.”

  “Is it because his life is here and you think you have to leave to appease your family?”

  “That’s part of it. But the bigger part is I don’t think he can handle who I really am.”

  “You don’t think,” Norah repeated. “So you haven’t told him?”

  Cecily shook her head.

  “He said something to stick his foot in it.” It wasn’t a question.

  “That’s one way of putting it. And it was fine. Because I’m supposed to leave. Not having emotional entanglements here makes that easier.”

  “I’m sensing a ‘but’.”

  “But…you threw me to the wolves when you asked me to build his marketing plan.”

  “How so?”

  “Because we’ve spent all this time together over the past week, and it reminded me of all the things I like about him. I’ve got all these ‘what if’s circling in my brain, wondering if I made a mistake holding back these last few months. And now we’re going on this business date—”

  Norah held up a hand. “I’m sorry. You can have a date or you can have a business function. A business date is not really a thing.”

  Cecily winced. “It is if you’re going to an event together for business research and the evening has date-like overtones.”

  “What exactly are y’all going to do?”

  “Attend a reading at Square Books and then dinner at Ajax.”

  “Oh you have to try the squash casserole. It’s my favorite. And, for the record, nothing about that sounds businessy.”

  “He wants Inglenook to be the next Square Books, so on that front it is. He wants me to see first-hand what that means. But it’s not just that. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Do you need to do something about it? You’re still going, right?”

  “Yes, I’m going. But I’m so conflicted about the whole thing. Part of me wants to be sensible and smart and keep things entirely professional. Because I could land my dream job any day.”

  “And the other part?”

  “He’s my unfinished business. If I hadn’t put on the brakes in June, I know we’d have been dating. Doing all that get to know each other stuff and figuring out if what’s between us is more than just chemistry. If I hadn’t put on the brakes, I’d know by now whether he needed to factor into my decision about what comes next. But I did put on the brakes, and I don’t know if it’s smart to start anything with that ticking time clock hanging over my head.”

  Norah offered a sympathetic smile. “You want my advice?”

  “I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t.”

  “Go on your date. Let it be a date. And tell him who you are. I know you’re worried about discretion and you don’t want it to get out. Reed’s not the kind to gossip. But tell him and see how he reacts. If you were right, and he can’t handle it, then at least you’ll know and can move on with a clear conscience and without having gotten further attached. And if you were wrong, wouldn’t you rather know it and make up for lost time, however long you’re still here?”

  Cecily blew out a breath. “I guess knowing either way is better than second guessing myself. Can I ask you something else?”

  “Of course.”

  “What the heck should I wear?”

  ~*~

  “Sorry about the walk. I didn’t realize it was a game weekend.” Reed hoped the half-mile hike in those heeled boots wasn’t going to hurt Cecily’s feet.

  She looped her arm through his and smiled. “I don’t mind. It feels good to stretch my legs, and it’s nice to see a little more of Oxford. I’ve heard Norah talk about it often, but I haven’t actually been up here in the entire time I’ve lived in Mississippi. It’s a lovely town. An interesting blend of old and new.”

  “It used to be more old, but over the last decade or two, they’ve built tons of these fancy condos for people who want game houses.” They’d passed at least a dozen on their walk up Van Buren Avenue.

  “Game houses?”

  Reed shrugged. “Some people have weekend cabins. A lot of Ole Miss alums want a permanent base for weekend football. SEC football is serious business down here.”

  “Takes all kinds, I guess. I’d rather spend my weekends at the beach.”

  He wondered if her family had a beach house. Hell, with that kind of money, they probably had more than one. Maybe they own a beach. But he didn’t ask. Instead, he gave himself over to telling her about Oxford, showing her the quirks and landmarks that hadn’t changed on the way to the Square.

  By the time they arrived for the reading, the place was pretty packed. People mingled in clusters
all through the store, sipping at wine and eating canapés. Several rows of folding chairs were set up facing a podium at the back of the store. Reed paused to inhale the heady scent of old books from the locked wire cages around the shelves of first editions and rare books lining the entry wall. Beside him, Cecily clapped her hands once and bounced like a kid in a candy store, her eyes taking on the avaricious gleam of the book lover in paradise. It was sexy as hell.

  “Go ahead and look around,” he invited.

  With a flashing grin, she began to browse. She had five titles tucked in one arm in almost as many minutes—a wide array from folklore to poetry to gardening. As she was flipping through the Greg Iles books available for purchase, the current bookstore cat leaped up on the table and demanded her attention.

  “Well aren’t you a beautiful thing?” She set the books aside and reached for the cat, who climbed quite willingly into her arms, then seemed content to lie there like a queen on a litter, her gray fur blending with the gray of Cecily’s sweater.

  “Clearly you stroked her ego in exactly the right way,” he said.

  Cecily rubbed her cheek against the cat’s head. “She just has discerning taste. Don’t you, gorgeous?”

  The cat began to purr. Reed suspected he would too, if Cecily petted him.

  “You should totally get a bookstore cat,” she told him.

  “I’d need to make sure Brenda’s not allergic.” He trailed off before voicing the suggestion that Cecily ought to come to the shelter with him to help pick one out.

  Across the room, he saw a flash of blonde hair. It was just blonde hair. Every other woman in town had blonde hair by God or by design. But there was something in the tilt of her head that pulled at him, made him watch until she turned and he could see her face.

  Reed went rigid.

  No, no, no. Not here. Not now. Not while he was with Cecily. But will alone couldn’t hold back the sudden wash of old resentments, shame, and defensiveness that went along with Annelise Arrington Stanton. He hadn’t seen her since she’d dumped him, and he’d been fool enough to think he never would again. But he knew perfectly well that Mississippi was one big small town.

  Cecily laid a hand on his arm. “Reed?” She followed his gaze to Annelise and frowned.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please take your seats.”

  “C’mon. Let’s sit,” he said.

  Introductions were made and the author took his place behind the podium, greeting the crowd, making a bit of small talk before getting started. The audience sat hushed and on the edge of their seats, listening as Mississippi author Greg Iles read from his latest book. Reed didn’t hear a word.

  Why the hell couldn’t he shake this?

  Cecily’s fingers laced with his and squeezed. He met her clear gray eyes. The roaring in his head stopped and the band around his chest loosened. Her mouth kicked into a half smile, her expression asking, Okay? Reed laid his free hand over hers and held on the rest of the reading.

  As everyone rose around them to queue up for autographs, Cecily leaned over. “Do you want to stick around or shall we try to beat the crowd to dinner?”

  She was giving him an out. But that would be giving Annelise too much importance.

  “Let’s stick. You still have that pile of books to buy, and you wanted to get one signed. Plus, I should introduce myself as a bookseller.” Reed pressed a hand to the small of her back, steering her toward the line that snaked back from the signing table.

  “Reed?”

  For just a moment, he froze, hand flexing against Cecily’s back. Time to face the inevitable.

  “Reed! It’s so good to see you!”

  As he turned toward his ex-girlfriend, he hoped he managed to fix his expression in something more polite than a grimace. “Annelise.”

  She looked a little more polished than she had in college, a little more mature. Her blonde hair was swept up in one of those careless looking updos that he knew perfectly well took her an hour to achieve. Pretentious Playboy was with her, looking self-assured and generally bored with the proceedings. Annelise’s smile had a shark-like quality as she crossed over.

  Had she been like that in college?

  Cecily neatly stepped into Reed’s side, sliding one arm around his waist, and Annelise’s smile faltered just a little. Reed could’ve kissed her right then and there. Instead, he wrapped a comfortable arm around Cecily’s shoulders and offered a more genuine smile.

  “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Nick and I came up for the game.” Annelise tucked her arm through her husband’s. “Reed, this is my husband Nick Stanton. Nick, this is Reed Campbell. He works at a little bookstore down in Wishful.” She shot a glance in his direction. “Or are you doing something else now?”

  Reed fought the urge to grind his teeth as he shook the other man’s hand with rather more force than absolutely necessary. “I own the bookstore, actually.”

  “Good for you.” If Annelise had any more faux sweetness in her tone, they could all drown in honey.

  And he’d thought he wanted to marry this woman? Christ. Who knew she’d saved him from a fate worse than death.

  Reed looked down at Cecily, “Honey, this is—”

  “Oh, you must be Annelise.” Cecily beamed and extended her left hand toward his ex. “Reed’s told me so much about you.” Reed couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something in Cecily’s manner had shifted subtly, become more…regal, somehow. And suddenly he was looking at the heiress she actually was.

  Annelise hesitated, eyes clearly drawn to the big honking ring glittering in the overhead lights. Where the hell had that come from? Seeming to collect herself, she shook Cecily’s hand.

  “I’m just so pleased to meet you. And you, Nick.” Cecily shook his hand, too, before returning to a proprietary hold on Reed’s arm. “Stanton. You wouldn’t happen to be related to the Kenilworth Stantons, would you? I mean, not that I know them well since they’re based in Chicago, and my family’s in Greenwich, but they’re just down the road from our summer house in the Hamptons.” She tipped her face up to his, and Reed saw her eyes sparkle. “Remember, sweetie. It was that cute little place without a gatehouse?” Her tone was as sweet and polite as could be, while still very clearly conveying how vastly below her experience this alleged house was.

  “I, uh, don’t believe so,” Nick said. “And you are?”

  “Oh, silly me. Where are my manners?” She leveled the pair of them with a superior smile that made the cat look like an amateur. “I’m Cecily Davenport Dixon.”

  Chapter 6

  “Ooohoo,” Reed crowed, “the look on her face! That was absolutely priceless.” As they strolled back toward the car to drop off her purchases, he gave her shoulders another squeeze. “The ring was an especially nice touch. Where’d that come from, anyway?”

  “It was my grandmother’s. I inherited it when she passed.” Cecily shifted the antique diamond and ruby ring back to her right hand.

  Reed blew a kiss toward the sky. “Thank you, Grandma, for your participation in tonight’s caper. Man, Norah told me you’d done some acting, but I had no idea you were that good.”

  Cecily bit the inside of her lip. He thought she’d made it all up. Damn. This is going to be harder than I thought. “Reed, it wasn’t an act.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course it was an act. And it was brilliantly executed. I don’t think she’d have been any more impressed if you’d been the Queen Mother.”

  She stopped walking, towing him to a stop so that he turned to face her. “Reed, I wasn’t kidding. I am Cecily Davenport Dixon.” She waited for him to lose the smile, close off, and demand an explanation.

  Instead, he brushed the hair back from her face, the humor in his expression shifting to something gentler. “I already knew you’re Cecil Davenport’s granddaughter. But that privileged princess back there isn’t who you are. Not by a long shot.”

  Something warm and bright slid through her a
t the acknowledgment. Then she blinked. “You knew? Since when?”

  “The M & S article.”

  “Damn it. I thought we’d got all the copies.”

  Amusement shone in his hazel eyes. “I ordered more.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I figured you’d gone to a helluva lot of trouble to keep the secret and wouldn’t appreciate that you’d been found out. Plus we weren’t exactly on close, chatty terms after I stuck my foot in it at the lake.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again, not knowing what to say.

  “To be clear,” he continued, “whatever invective I may have spewed about the wealthy that night was entirely specific to Annelise, whether it sounded like a generalized opinion or not.”

  Cecily sighed and started walking again. “I don’t blame you for that opinion. God knows, I’ve been surrounded by that particular brand of snob most of my life. I despise it, but I know how to play the game when necessary.” It was how she’d gotten into acting in the first place back in high school.

  “I appreciate that you thought me worth the effort.”

  “She hurt you. And tonight she was determined to resurrect that.” Cecily hadn’t been able to resist the urge to put Annelise in her place.

  “I don’t know why she bothered. She made it absolutely clear years ago that I was beneath her.” He unlocked the car.

  “The bigger question is what the hell you saw in her in the first place.” Hello Pot, my name is Kettle. Cecily tossed her bag in the back seat and shut the door. “You couldn’t have had anything in common, and I would’ve thought you weren’t the kind of guy who’d fall for beauty without substance.”

  “She isn’t without substance. She was actually on academic scholarship. But somewhere in the last semester of college, as graduation and the real world got closer, she changed her mind about what she wanted. And thank God for it. We’d have been miserable together. I can admit that now that I’m older and wiser, and in far better company.” He laced his fingers with hers.

  “Nice to know you learn from your mistakes.” She glanced up at him, feeling suddenly shy. “I can admit I learn from mine, too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. If I’d just come right out and mentioned my family at the lake, instead of assuming you wouldn’t accept it…” Where would they be if they hadn’t lost the last three months?