Secondhand secrets, p.18
Secondhand Secrets, page 18
William raised both brows and turned back to his son, a mocking sort of silence dragged out before he offered, “Plant pots?”
Once again, Kelly raced through the room, this time with a pile of plates. While the men continued their quiet stand-off, Ally rolled her eyes and stood, grabbing half the plates from Kelly’s arms, distributing them to her and Chip, but not before catching Kelly’s momentary stunned pause.
“Ally’s underselling herself.” Chip’s voice punched through the air, commanding attention. Now, she was the one holding a stunned gape. “She’s in talks to distribute her pottery through a major retailer. Argyles. You know, the place Kelly shops at when she’s looking to update the balcony gardens or re-pot an indoor plant”
“No way.” Kelly’s face lit up, and she nudged out an elbow in a you-go-girl show of support.
Meanwhile, a distinct lightness spread through Ally’s chest. At Kelly’s reaction and the pride in which Chip had defended her.
William pressed his lips together, as though still considering Chip’s words, the man’s face a harsher version of his son’s, his hair a similar length, albeit styled back and about eighty-percent gray these days.
“Not bad.” His attention landed on Ally. “What are your plans if the deal falls through?”
Her mind drew a blank, and she plodded back to her seat, where she swiped up her wine glass and took a long swig. Frankly, the whole Argyle thing had been Emilia’s idea. Ally had just assumed a scrapped deal would mean her prospects simply ended there.
“She has a business consultant.” Chip’s hand slipped over hers under the table. “A ruthless one who won’t stop until another deal is found.”
She startled at his artful description of Emilia. Strong minded, sure. But ruthless? Anyone who’d met the diminutive woman would not agree.
His defense had started to slip into dishonesty, and his ongoing insistence on her potential made her skin prickle.
Why was he trying so hard? And what if the Argyle deal did fold?
Would he be less proud of her?
Needing a moment to sift through her thoughts, she frowned at her empty plate, only for Senior Overton to hit her with another question. “So, let’s say this or another deal goes ahead. It sounds to me you’re a one-woman production line. How will you keep up with demand?”
She forced the muscles on her face to remain loose, the desire to shoot William a pinched scowl all-too strong while a hot, swelling sensation pushed against her lower ribcage. “I haven’t thought that through just yet.”
The glacial edge to Senior Overton’s eyes defrosted slightly, a hint he saw her lacking plans as a win for him. “One perk of being in private practice, I have a number of wealthy and grateful former patients. I’m sure I could pull some strings to help you expand. Someone who can organize other artists to increase production, maybe even an investor, or—”
“Dad, no.” Chip’s stern glare held firm on his father’s, two men wearing the same expression but for different reasons.
She sat silent, her face cold, and a sharp tension clawing at her heart.
“And what if another opportunity knocks tomorrow?” His dad leaned over the table, his tone harsh and his fingers curled tight around his scotch glass, as though he rebuked one of his cardiac patients for picking up smoking again. “She won’t be prepared.”
“It’s still early days.” Chip’s statement was delivered in a taut staccato, the clench of his jaw further hindering the sound.
His dad scoffed. “She still needs a plan.”
“Ally will wait and see what happens next.”
A short pause ensued, and she opened her mouth to say something, but Kelly got in first. “Bill. Please.”
Do I get a say in any of this?
He flicked a hand through the air, dismissing his wife, and she settled into her seat beside him, sending Ally a shrug.
“Businesses rise and fall.” Bill stilled a beat before pressing on. “People go bankrupt far quicker and easier than you think, William.”
That was the first time, outside their school days, Ally had ever heard anyone refer to Chip as William, his father’s formal approach strengthening the divide between them.
But Chip plastered on a derisive smile, not even flinching at the address, as though icy exchanges were the usual price of entry into this house. “Nice of you to acknowledge that I even think.”
Not yet ready to look at the two bickering men, she shook her head at her plate, an uncontainable heat pushing to burst out from within her.
Bill Overton’s attitude, the pressure he laid on Chip, much less on her—a woman he’d met for the first time in a decade. No wonder Chip believed he wasn’t enough.
And still, as much as he disliked his upbringing, the speed in which he spoke for her, lumping her with the same burden to excel. Well, she couldn’t deal with that either.
“I’ve been in this room all of half an hour.” She spoke in a low, frustrated tone. “And you’re both already planning my life.”
She lifted her attention to Chip but refused to look at his dad, mostly because of what she might do if she did.
Chip’s lips parted in a sign he meant to say something, then abandoned that idea to look at his father, the two men silent now and picking up their cutlery.
“Well, that was fun.” Kelly spoke in an overly bright and sarcastic tone, then pressed her lips together and gave Ally a smile, her brown eyes wide in approval. “Believe it or not, the man beside me is, at times, capable of fair play. The man beside you, even more so. And I, for one, am sorry for their brutish behavior. I’d like to say it’s rare, but I also don’t like lying. See my dilemma?”
Ally laughed and nodded.
Kelly spoke again, “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here, and it’s nice to have another woman within these walls for a change.”
Ally’s heart thudded with gratitude, but also because she still didn’t quite know what to think of this woman since she’d been part of Bill’s dramatic exit from Harlow.
Though Chip never spoke much of her, some people in town did.
Never anything nice.
What with Kelly’s earlier nervous fussing and her kind support now, Ally suspected she’d been misled.
“So, can I say you two are officially dating?” Kelly’s focus bounced between Ally and Chip before finally stopping at Ally. “Chip’s never brought a girlfriend home. It’s nice that you both share some history.”
That last statement brought genuine warmth to Ally’s face. Kelly’s well-meaning curiosity and desire to keep the conversation flowing, marked her relationship with Bill as a case of opposites attract.
Maybe this woman was everything he’d needed all along. The sweetness to his sour. Maybe Ally would ease up and react in kind. Less on the historically nasty gossip, and more on what she witnessed with her very own ears and eyes.
“Weren’t you dating that law major we met at your graduation?” Though Bill spoke to Chip, the way he sawed at the chicken on his plate seemed extra disturbing, given his work as a surgeon and all. “Dionne something-or-other. Great conversationalist, bright, from an esteemed family. Yes, I liked her.”
The air disappeared from Ally’s lungs, and Chip pressed his eyes shut. She’d never heard of any woman named Dionne, much less someone he’d dated so soon to returning to Harlow. And what with his dad listing Dionne’s achievements, did the man ever let up?
“Bill!” Kelly shook her head at her husband, brows squished together in a clear sign she too was done with his barbs, her compassion-filled gaze soon connecting to Ally. “Don’t listen to him. Dionne was not Chip’s girlfriend.”
“No, she wasn’t.” Despite Chip’s confirmation, his stabbing words seemed aimed at his dad. “We went on one date. She spent the whole time listing her social connections or grilling me on which law firm she should aim for partner in ten years’ time, like I would know or care. I can understand why you liked her, but I hadn’t spoken to her since that date or when she insisted on introducing herself to you at graduation.”
Bill eyeballed Chip and chewed in silence, soon returning to his meat, like he hadn’t been at all offended. “Well, she seemed nice.”
An incredulous laugh broke from Chip, and because Ally sensed his rising anger, she lay her hand over his arm on the table in a gesture for him to calm down.
“Kelly?” Though her voice caught a little, she smiled across the table at Chip’s stepmother, the only person to offer solidarity. “Could you pass me more wine?”
Kelly gave a choked laugh, although something in her smile hooked in Ally’s mind. The slight waver. That her brown eyes dimmed even as she joked, “Sure. I think I need more too.”
The heavy silence as she slid the tall, green bottle closer spoke volumes. Like she saw a common thread in Ally. Maybe the one reason they couldn’t be friends.
That Ally would be another woman to divide this family. A family already thoroughly shattered.
Twenty-Nine
The next day, Ally rested her head on the grass within Boston’s Common gardens. Chip laid out beside her in the hot, early afternoon sun. Having strolled past the Southwest end’s softball fields, the Soldiers and Sailors monument on Flagstaff hill, and then a spray-pool-turned-skating-rink in the winter called the Frog Pond, she rubbed her feet, ruing the heels she’d have to wear at tonight’s Encode dinner.
She turned to Chip, where the frown he directed at the clear sky prevented him from noticing her, so she ran a hand over his wrinkled brow and vied for his attention. “You look worried.”
He shuffled on his side and nestled his head in her lap, his small act obscuring her sense of impending doom with belonging. “I am worried.”
She nodded. They both had so much happening, each complication like a loose kite string blowing in the wind and getting caught with other kites. The whole, giant tangle destined to hit the ground soon enough.
“Because of tonight?”
He peered up at her question before adding his reply, “Tonight. Tomorrow’s presentation. Other things.”
Wanting to make him feel better, wanting to maintain this loose connection, she ran her fingertips through his soft hair, her heart shifting at this losing battle.
His eyes drifted shut, and his scowl eased. As much as she resigned herself to an end here, wobbly uncertainty still wrenched at her tone. “Other things as in, me? Or your dad?”
His head shifted in her lap from a nod, his eyes still shut, as though he preferred not to meet her gaze. “Both, but he was rude to you last night, and I regret you had to deal with that.”
She scoffed, and that wobbliness turned to an incredulous laugh. “You were rude too.”
His eyes flicked open. “He was worse.”
A frozen tension passed between them, but he eventually reached up and stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry. That’s a weak excuse. I don’t regret making him feel bad, but you’re right, I could have handled things better.”
She stayed silent for a while, just stroking his hair and allowing her frustration to dissipate a bit, though the pangs of doubt that dogged her since Chip’s return didn’t budge.
“Chip. what if this is all there is?” She caught his jaw’s mild slackening and his face turning hollow just below his cheekbones. “For me? For us?”
A harder set took over his brow, like he read her reference to his dad’s pestering her about her future, then Chip’s exaggerating her potential if his dad could only wait a little longer.
“Ally”—he launched to a seated position and cupped her face—“don’t let last night get to you, okay? Don’t let it affect how you feel about yourself. Or me. Please.”
She huffed out a sharp breath. “I wish controlling my feelings were that easy. I don’t know if there are things about me that need fixing or if I’m just the way I’m supposed to be, but when you and your dad push—”
“Oh, God. Ally. No.” His voice turned brittle, and his hands tensed at her face. “Whatever I said last night had everything to do with me and nothing to do with you. I’m the one who’s never been enough. Not in his eyes, anyway. I thought talking you up would get him to lay off. That I’d spare you feeling inadequate, and maybe he’d play happy family for just one night. Heck, I was so busy trying to salvage that illusion, I should have just told him to back off from the start.”
She held a quiet pause thinking over what he’d said, and although she’d already forgiven him, her mind stuck on the other details. “Why is he so hellbent on giving you a hard time?”
He gave a harsh laugh and let his hands fall away from her, his attention slipping to the grass between them. “Want to know what his real problem with you is?”
Her heartbeat caught, and her ability to speak dried with the sense that a truth bomb was about to explode. Still, she did want to know. “Tell me.”
“He sees history repeating, Ally.” His voice weak and raspy, his gaze lifted to her again, his pupils wide, and expression slack in a way that said the admission hurt him too. “He sees me as an extension of him, and right now, in his eyes, you’re my mom 2.0. The one who will bring it all down. The small-town girl forcing me to waste my potential in Harlow.”
She flinched at the comparison. A comparison she’d never really considered, but one that somehow rang true. Too true. And that truth bore deeper with each passing thought, a chasm seeming to open within her, painful enough to bring a sting to her eyes.
“Wow.” She tore her gaze from him and gave a rapid series of blinks, the open, sunny space around them suddenly not big or private enough. “Way to pour cold water on things.”
“Ally—” He reached for her, his forehead crinkled in a way that said he was only half-done, that he was about to get to the part where he would make her feel better about ruining his life, but then her phone rang on the grass beside her, and she held a hand up gesturing for him to stop.
“It’s Emilia, I have to answer.” She took a drawn-out and steadying breath, but the trembling sound wasn’t all that convincing. So she pressed the heel of her palm to her right eye to stem any possible tears.
On the phone, Emilia kept a bright and fast tone, all while Ally offered the excited laughs and engaged responses expected of her. Before long, her insistent tears flowed, and she hung up, squeezing her eyes shut against the confusing mix of sorrow and glee.
“I got the Argyle deal.” The words shuddered from her, and her heart beat faster.
Momentarily still, Chip stared back at her before his smile finally broke, and he pulled her into a full embrace. Even as he held her, her mind caught on that split second where he’d done nothing. His moment of doubt mirroring hers.
Things weren’t right here.
More and more, she couldn’t keep up, and everything she knew slipped unwillingly from her grasp. Chip. Harlow. Her burgeoning career. She couldn’t do it all. Couldn’t have them all.
He pulled back and swept his gaze over her face, his continued grasp on her arms denoting a yearning to hold on. “What happens next?”
She leaned out of his hold and frowned down at her lap. “I guess there’ll be contracts to sign once I get back to Harlow. Emilia will help me figure out how to honor the Argyle’s order. After that, I get straight to work making pottery.”
She wanted to peer up and feel the sense of release that she got from looking at him, but something had changed there too. No matter how much Chip meant to her, she wasn’t like him, and there was more that worked against this relationship than just living in different states.
She didn’t thrive on problem-solving. She was outgoing, but not adventurous. Like so many artists, she lived in her own head and moved at her own pace.
“Now who’s the overachiever?” He lifted her chin and forced her attention to his lighthearted grin. “I guess that means I really can’t mess up with Encode now.”
She laughed, acknowledging his point. For this super brief moment, she was ahead of him.
He shook his head, brows pinching together, as though he’d witnessed her earlier doubts playing across her face. “About before, I’m not him. Ally, you are more than enough. You are everything.”
A heavy weight pressed on her chest, and she tried to offer a reassuring smile. “Things are so new, Chip, let’s not—”
“No. Let’s.” He clasped her hands between his, his firm hold pleading that she listen. “Your business is picking up. Encode’s interest will at least shine a light on my work. We have than enough potential that’s worth exploring. Move to Boston with me. We’ll get an apartment. You’ll be closer to the city action and all that means for your art. If you really want to stay in Harlow, then we’ll make something work there too.”
“You mean, a long-distance relationship?” She raised a brow, ensuring he knew she didn’t love the idea.
“It’s not ideal, but—”
“It’s also not what I want.”
No. She’d spent her entire life dreaming of love, and having a relationship unfold via video calls and text messages wasn’t what she envisioned.
As for his offer to leave Boston, well, Harlow had no tech industry and his moving there wouldn’t be fair. So, the question remained, could she move away from Harlow?
“Ally, we work.” He paused to swallow and gave a hesitant nod, as though he second guessed what he planned to say. “And the truth is I—”
“Don’t say it.” Her heart clenched, his pause between phrases only making her demand more valid.
Whatever he felt, she felt too. The glowing hazel of his eyes said enough that words weren’t needed. And putting words to a thing made that thing real.
“Real” meant upending their lives. So, she didn’t want real.
