“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?
Reed stroked his thumb along the back of her hand. “Doesn’t matter. We’re here now. So how about we head back to Ajax and you tell me about why you’re keeping your identity a secret, while I introduce you to some of Oxford’s best down home Southern cookin’?”
“Deal.”
Given the crowds, Ajax Diner was popular. It took a while, but they finally got seated in one of the booths along the right wall. Local art hung over each table, and the ceiling was dotted with thousands of sandwich toothpicks that Reed told her had been shot up with drinking straws. Scents of butter and bacon and spice hung heavy in the air, making Cecily’s mouth water and her empty stomach rumble. Thankfully, the dull roar of conversation kept anyone from hearing.
After they put in their orders—country fried steak for Reed and a veggie plate for her—Reed leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So tell me your origin story, Cecily The Great.”
She laughed. “I could get used to that.”
“It suits you.”
Cecily wasn’t sure about that. She took a sip of her iced tea. “I suppose it’s time for a bit of a family history lesson on the side that isn’t constantly in the news. My dad doesn’t come from the same world as my mother. He’s fourth generation of a fishing family from Long Island. And when his dad had a heart attack his senior year of high school and couldn’t work, my dad took the floundering fishing business and turned it into a charter company. Grandpa Eddie was pissed. Said he was throwing away generations of tradition and history. But sticking to the old ways had done nothing but get them up to their eyeballs in debt, to the point that they were on the verge of losing the business by the time Dad got his hands on it. Anyway, despite a lot of resistance from the family and quite a few of the employees, he made it work, made it profitable. Grandpa Cecil hired him one summer, to sail from Long Island down to the Caribbean and back—except instead of hiring dad’s boat, he hired him as captain because Dad had earned the reputation of being able to sail anything. That’s how he met my mom. They deluded themselves into believing they were managing a clandestine romance on board an 82’ yacht beneath the noses of her parents, both her brothers, and the other crew.”