The Escape Clause Page 8

  Either way, he’d take the condolences. He might have lost Avery, but he still had Spencer.

  Spencer stretched his arms over his head. “I can be thankful you don’t own a lot of crap.”

  Pete laughed. “My mother would argue that it’s all still stored in the rafters of the garage.”

  Spencer nodded. “I’ve heard that from my mother too. I think we’re just good sons. If we took everything away, they’d think we left them for good.”

  “Right,” he said letting the stress release from his shoulders. Spencer was exactly what he’d needed tonight. However, there was one thing weighing very heavy on his mind. “Have you heard from Avery?”

  Spencer’s eyes flashed and that had given him his answer.

  “She called yesterday to say she’d arrived. Simone said she talked to her for a few minutes, but that was all she’d said.”

  Pete nodded. “I’m glad she arrived safely.”

  “I can’t believe she took off like this. What the hell is wrong with her?”

  “She’s looking for herself,” Pete said.

  Spencer shook his head. “She’s an idiot. I can say that. She’s an idiot.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “She had everything with you. I don’t understand what she’s chasing.”

  “The life her mother had.”

  Pete walked toward the kitchen. At least Spencer had brought beer to christen the fridge. He opened the door and pulled out two. Handing one to Spencer, he gave the door a bump with his hip to shut it.

  Each of them opened their bottles and took long, deserved swigs.

  “I hope she’ll be happy,” Pete said letting the words sting as he said them.

  “I can’t believe she didn’t call you first.”

  “She might have. I turned off my phone for a few days. I just couldn’t handle it.” He pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “I’m not stupid enough to think it’ll work again. An entire lifetime of friendship and infatuation wasted.”

  Spencer pulled out a chair, spun it around backward, and sat down with his arms resting on the back.

  “Don’t think like that. You don’t know what she’s thinking.”

  “Yes I do. I’ve heard every story about Simone Pierpont’s life before Nashville. Avery’s got the bug. She wants jets and yachts. She wants the life her mother had.”

  “It’s not for real.”

  “To her it is.” Pete took another pull from his bottle. “She left the ring, Spencer. The note said ‘see me off’ and I missed her. It’s over.”

  He was sure he heard an oath murmured under Spencer’s breath as he took a sip of his beer.

  In time, he was sure he’d see her again. Their paths were sure to cross at some point. But for now Pete was going to go on. He had an appointment with his investment firm in the morning to grovel for his job back—without promotion.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hills rolled in a green carpet of vines and trees. Avery sat on the small patio out back of her cottage, which sat in the middle of the vineyard.

  The coffee in her mug had been sent by her mother in a care package, the beans had anyway. She simply couldn’t get that same flavor in France.

  She’d lived on the property for nearly a month now, watching the grapes grow on the miles and miles of vines. Her palate for wine had grown and she’d learned quite a bit about the sight, aroma, balances, and harmonies.

  Every day she’d walk the rows of vines, as much for quality control as for her sanity. The workers were gracious to her and answered all of her questions. However, she felt as perhaps her grandfather had forgotten her in the little cottage in the vineyard.

  He’d never been out to see her at the cottage, but he was a busy man. The vineyard was not as important to him as his oil business. She understood that. Though she still wasn’t sure of her role there.

  He’d been very curt to her the day she arrived in France. He’d met her at the airport and he’d shaken Marcus’s hand, but never had he hugged her or touched her.

  “Marcus will see to you,” he’d said before he’d driven away.

  Marcus had been with her nearly every day since.

  He’d been instrumental in educating her on the grapes, the vines, and the process. They’d dined together in the small town just beyond the vineyard and he’d introduced her to employees of the winery and a few local shop owners.

  He was kind and his looks hadn’t slipped past her radar. Dark wavy hair and those chocolate eyes had filtered into her dreams a night or two.

  He wasn’t like the men back home. He was sophisticated and full of knowledge. There was a arrogant side to him, she assumed, that was what made him very successful. Not one moment of the day was wasted and no one questioned his authority.

  She didn’t want to say people feared him, but perhaps. However, that probably came with power in a company. To her he’d been kind.

  Avery pulled her sweater closed tighter as a small breeze blew through the vines. It certainly was a different climate than she was used to, though she didn’t mind it. The mornings and evenings were much cooler and during the day the temperature was mild. All things considered, it was perfect.

  Today she’d take a walk through the vineyard and then head into town for a few supplies. Marcus was going to pick her up around three and take her to see the fermentation and aging facility. She’d seen the grape pressing the week before.

  She had seriously thought she’d be deep into the process by now. Perhaps she’d have an office, a desk, a job title? Avery let out a breath.

  At her disposal, she had a Mercedes and an expense account. Her grandfather had an apartment in Paris where she could go and stay anytime. She’d met her grandmother for lunch one day, but that was nearly as foreign to her as the menu and it made her miss her Grandma Emily something awful.

  They certainly were two different kinds of women. Emily was old, very old—but so wise and kind. Her mother’s mother was polite and gracious, but not focused on Avery at all. It was all a formality to meet her.

  She’d expected that. Her mother hadn’t ever talked of her too much and she’d only met her a few times. She’d grown up hoping her grandmother would have thought she was special—just as her Grandma Emily had.

  Her grandfather, on the other hand, was very attentive—when she’d been in his presence.

  He gave her anything she’d needed or wanted—after all, wasn’t that why she was there? She wanted to have the car to drive to Paris and stay in a fully furnished apartment overlooking the Eiffel Tower. She wanted to gaze upon the Mona Lisa whenever she felt the urge to walk through the Louvre. Certainly her wardrobe should have been updated with the number of stores her grandfather had arranged credit in.

  But it just wasn’t right. A piece of her was missing—Pete.

  He hadn’t called and she hadn’t called him. It was very obvious to her that when he didn’t come to the airport that they were over. She missed her friend though.

  She’d stalked him on Facebook, but he hadn’t posted a thing since she’d left.

  When she’d talked to her mother last, she’d learned that Pete’s father had heart surgery and was doing very well. Avery had sent him a card and she’d hoped it would prompt Pete to call, but it hadn’t.

  How could she blame him? Avery had left him for this dream—which wasn’t turning out to be very dreamy at all.

  The sound of a car driving toward the cottage had her lifting her head and forgetting her woes. She stood from the chair and walked around the small little house to see Marcus pulling up.

  He turned off the car and stepped out. He was freshly shaven and perhaps his hair was still damp from his shower.

  “Good morning!” He said very enthusiastically and then stopped and looked her over. “You are not ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Our tour.”

  Avery stared at him and then looked down at her bulky sweater and lounge pants. “I thought you said around three.
”

  He smiled and moved toward her. His dark eyes sparkled as he looked down at her. “I added some adventure to our day.” Marcus placed his hands on her arms and stood gazing at her.

  Avery’s body quaked at the intimacy of his touch. He’d never touched her before quite like this.

  She swallowed hard. “What did you have planned?”

  “Your grandfather has given us his yacht for the weekend. Pack a bag and a swimming suit.”

  Avery gripped her coffee mug between her hands. “Marcus, I don’t…”

  “I have invited friends,” he said. His accent was thick and romantic.

  He moved in closer and she could smell the fresh soap and cologne on him. Her body seemed to stir in his presence.

  “You cannot stay here in your little cottage forever. You must enjoy too.” He lifted his hand to her cheek and her breath caught in her lungs. “What is keeping you from enjoying your time here?”

  Did he really want an answer to that? “I’m just not sure what my grandfather had planned for me.”

  Marcus smiled and it lit into his eyes. “He wants you to be happy. He can offer that.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone. “I can help him offer that.”

  The air that her lungs had held hostage sucked into her stomach and landed as a heavy weight. He was gazing at her, nearly holding her. She’d had enough men make a move on her to know that was what was going on, but why?

  “Marcus, I…”

  He pressed his index finger to her lips. “Go pack and get ready. I have croissants in the car. I will fix you a plate for breakfast.”

  Tucking a wisp of her fallen hair behind her ear, he gave her a wink. Things had changed in the past few days. She thought she was just becoming comfortable, but he seemed to think there was more.

  Avery went inside and up to her bedroom. She gathered a few clothing items and her swimsuit. Why she was doing this was beyond her. She wanted to do real work. When was her grandfather going to put her in charge of something? When did the work begin that she’d been looking forward to—whatever it was.

  Avery started the shower and ran a brush through her hair as she waited for the water to get warm.

  She thought about a weekend out on her grandfather’s yacht and she wondered if it were the same one her mother had abandoned her father on.

  Perhaps a few days away to enjoy the life she’d come for was just as in order as waiting her grandfather out. Yes, she’d go, meet new people, and work on her tan. She’d send pictures to her mother. Instead of having this void between them, perhaps they could bond over like experiences.

  Marcus had mentioned that he’d invited friends. That would be good. She needed to meet more people and she certainly didn’t want to be alone with Marcus. They didn’t know each other quite that well.

  She brushed her hair back. They had spent a lot of time together the past month, she thought. Wasn’t that how people got to know each other?

  He was kind and warm to her, but she’d seen his frightening anger fly a few times. However, it wasn’t aimed at her, but usually at a worker who hadn’t done their job. As she didn’t know her own job, she couldn’t tell when someone wasn’t doing theirs.

  People seemed to do what Marcus wanted them to do. She wondered what it was like to have that kind of power. Would that come in time? Was she strong enough to use that kind of power?

  A plate with croissants and fruit was on the table with a cup of tea and a folded napkin. Marcus’s voice came from the other room. He was on a phone call, she assumed, as she could only hear one side of the conversation.

  Avery sat down and began to eat the food he’d set out for her.

  “I see you packed.”

  She looked up to see him standing in the doorway. “Yes.”

  “Good. I thought maybe you would try to change your mind. I am glad you did not.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say. In the back of her mind, she still felt the twinge that something wasn’t right about it. However, she’d left Nashville to live this life and if she didn’t start living it then the trip was a waste—and she’d given up too much not to enjoy every moment of it.

  He set her cell phone on the table in front of her. “Your phone rang while you were in the shower. I answered it.”

  Avery slid the phone closer to her. “Who was it?”

  “I believe it was the man you had wanted to accompany you on your trip.”

  “Pete?” His name croaked out and panicked zipped through her.

  Marcus smiled. “I think he did say that was his name.”

  Avery began scrolling through the phone looking for a text message or something. Had something gone wrong? His father? His family? Him? “What did he say?”

  “I told him you were packing for a cruise on the yacht and when we returned you would phone him.”

  Her muscles tightened. “That’s how you said it?” She scrolled through the contacts to his number. “I have to call him now.”

  Marcus rested a hand atop of hers, stopping her process. “The call can wait. We are leaving now.”

  ~*~

  Pete sat on his couch, now misplaced in Avery’s living room. His phone was cupped in his hands and his broken heart was shattered into even smaller pieces.

  What had he expected? Avery had chosen the life she’d dreamed about over everything else. It should be no surprise that he was part of the everything else.

  It had been a month and was she even aware of the month he’d had?

  He’d groveled to get his job back, but it didn’t come with the promotion. His father had surgery. Wasn’t that a taxing time? More than anything he’d wished she’d have been there to comfort him. How many times had he sat in waiting rooms of hospitals for her?

  Pete shook his head. Setting his phone on the coffee table, he leaned back on the couch and rubbed his eyes. It was past two o’clock in the morning and it had been another long day.

  Today hadn’t been about him or his father. Today’s drama belonged to his mother. Hearing her mutter the words, “I have cancer,” kicked him in the balls.

  A month ago Avery would have been there hearing her say the words, holding his hand. Since that wasn’t an option, he’d called Avery’s cousin Christian.

  Christian was a good shoulder to cry on. His own mother battled cancer when Christian was young. He knew what Pete was going through.

  He’d met him at the bar Christian’s brother-in-law, Warner Wright, owned downtown. It had been crowded, but that worked out just fine for Pete. When he’d too said the words, “My mom has cancer,” at least he couldn’t hear them again.

  Of course, when you cried on one Keller shoulder, you cried on them all. He’d called Christian, but by the end of the night Christian’s older brother Ed, their sister Clara, and their cousins Spencer and Tyler were all at the table comforting him. The only person missing was Avery.

  They couldn’t assure him it would all be all right. What they could ensure was they would be right there with him the entire time. Avery might be out of the picture, but he still belonged with them all.

  Pete’s mind went back to the man’s voice on the phone. A thick French accent and an in-charge tone when he spoke. He couldn’t help but wonder who he was.

  Honestly, he shouldn’t care. Avery hadn’t held up her end of the relationship. It would only figure she’d moved on.

  She’d wanted to feel out those Pierpont roots. He supposed she had now.

  Pete picked up his cell phone and hit the power button on the side. He was too tired to even climb the stairs to bed.

  He set the phone back down and pulled the afghan his mother had crocheted off the back of the couch. Wrapping himself in the comfort of its stitches, he lie down on the couch and let the day take him under.

  Chapter Twelve

  They were getting married. Pete couldn’t be happier as he watched his bride walking toward him. The veil covered her face, but he knew who it was.

  Family surrounded them. Birds chirpe
d in nearby trees and his best man gave him a solid slap on the back.

  Pete looked up at him, but who was he? Certainly if he were marrying Avery he’d have chosen Spencer to stand with him.

  “Who are you?”

  The man smiled and said, “I think you are in my space.”

  His accent was deep and heavy. French.

  This wasn’t his wedding. Avery wasn’t walking toward him though he still couldn’t see her face.

  Suddenly an enormous crash pierced his ears and Pete sat up in a cold sweat. He was on his couch, in the living room, and it was daylight.

  The man was gone. The bride to be was gone. He was alone.

  “Shit!”

  He heard the word yelled from the backyard and it took him a moment to realize someone was outside.

  Pete scrambled to his feet and ran to the backdoor.

  In the driveway, he could see a big, old, blue Ford pickup truck full of boxes. Knelt down beside the truck was a woman with a blonde ponytail high on the top of her head bent over a box of broken plates.

  “Can I help you?” Pete called from the back porch, his eyes batting to focus in the sun.

  “Sorry. I dropped this box and of course it had all my dishes. They’re just Walmart dishes, but I think I might have broken every single one of them. This is the worst.” She rolled her head from side to side. “Well, in hindsight it isn’t really bad at all. It’s just some cheap plates. I can eat off of something else for a few days until I can buy a new plate. Start small, you know. One at a time.”

  Pete batted his eyes again, but this time to try and clear the cobwebs out of his head.

  The woman finished loading the few shards that had escaped back into the box, then stood and stretched her back.

  “This is a lovely morning, isn’t it? It’s days like this I wish I were a runner.” Then she laughed and looked down at herself. “Right, as if I’d ever run.”