Page 38 of Phillip

As her mother and her ex closed the distance, Ashley conjured as many calming thoughts as she could. She studied the way the two carried themselves with such cool collection that it seemed impossible they were walking down a street in King Harbor’s summer heat.

“Here goes nothing.” Ashley pushed the heavy wrought iron bistro chair back and stood. Her ice cream cone trembled, and her fingers tightened their grip on it as she willed herself to remain calm. What she wouldn’t have given to momentarily make her ice cream disappear. It was such a silly thought, but the urgency with which she felt it summed up everything about her relationship with both her mother and her ex-boyfriend.

“Mother,” she called out, immediately catching the pair’s attention. “Sean.”

He smiled with recognition. There was hardly a difference between his phony corporate grin and an authentic one.

“Ashley Catherine,” her mother greeted with a darting glance at the ice cream cone. “What a surprise.” Her closed-lipped smile was nothing more than a polite formality as she and Sean came to a stop by the bistro table. “And Mary Beth.”

Mary Beth rose to meet the conversation. She did a good job of hiding her true feelings, but Ashley could see her tension grow as she pushed her heavy chair back. “Mrs. Cartwright, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Likewise, dear.”

Ashley mentally snorted and wondered if Mary Beth’s two first names were the only reason why her mother didn’t seek out the middle name to include. Ashley was never simply Ashley.

She gestured with her hand and offered the two free seats to her mother and Sean. “I didn’t know you were coming to town.”

“Yet here we are.” Her mother declined the offer to join them with a flicker of a faux smile and a small step away.

“I’m sorry we can’t join you,” Sean added. “We’re meeting my father for lunch at Montgomery’s.”

“It seems you’ve had a meeting with Mr. Paget,” her mother said.

“How did you know that?” A trickle of ice cream dripped onto her fingers. Ashley tried to ignore it.

“I mentioned it,” Sean volunteered.

How much did they chat? “Oh. Well, yes, the meeting was to discuss an upcoming charity event.”

“You should have called me,” Sean said pleasantly. “We all could have met at Montgomery’s.”

Ashley feigned disappointment. “That would’ve been great. But it was just a quick meeting—”

“Still, I would have loved to help.”

Ashley shifted, uncomfortable with his attention, or rather his intentions. “I didn’t realize that you were involved with your father’s cars.”

“I’m not.” At that, Sean grinned toward her mother. “But until we can catch up again, your mother has kept me looped in.”

Her stomach tumbled.Looped in on what? Golfpocalypse?That didn’t seem as interesting of a topic for them to share, and her mother didn’t do gossip unless it served a purpose. There was nothing for Sean to keep up on except, as her mother hoped, maintaining the amicable possibility of something with Ashley in the future.

Never, ever would there be anything between Sean and her. Sean didn’t care that she had ended things between them. There wasn’t bitterness. There wasn’t even emotion. They had little in common, as they’d quickly learned during their rather dull courtship. He was generically handsome in a squeaky-clean way. Even the way he kept his hair clipped and combed bored her.

But oh my, they had a tremendously overlapping social Rolodex. Her mother would say, “What more does love need?”

Certainly not the same ZIP code. Sean lived in New York City. But between him and Ashley, they were six degrees of separation away from the who’s who of Wall Street and American media. Her mother had already mentally married them off before the first date was in the books.

“Ashley, do you need a napkin?” Sean offered.

“No.” Impulsively, and suddenly irritated, she licked the melted ice cream off of her fingers and cone. “But thank you.”

A quick glance revealed that Mother was almost dying. Ashley wondered what her mother’s fans would say if they saw the real Mrs. Cartwright; the one who never tended to her garden but instructed her staff to fertilize, weed, and trim; the woman who had long ago given up hours in the kitchen. The kitchen was now only journeyed to for photo shoots and taste tests of dishes suggested by her editorial team.

Her mother’s snooty Goody Two-shoes act wouldn’t go over well, Ashley mused. Or maybe fans would forgive her. Maybe they would suggest that she hadearnedthe opportunity to step back. After all, Agatha Cartwright could do no wrong.

“How is Phillip Blackthorne?” Mother asked with barely disguised disgust.

The problem poofed to perfect clarity before Ashley’s eyes. Mother excelled at playing three-dimensional social chess, and Ashley could visualize the strings she had pulled behind the scene with both Robert and Sean Paget. “Phillip’s fine. I’ll tell him you said hello.”

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