Page 16 of Saltwater Secrets
“She just sent Aria to Manhattan!” Estelle declared. “Is she coming back?”
“I told her to hang tight for now,” Hilary said. “I’m going to call Dorothy’s lawyer and see. Technically, Aria’s already been paid for the first month of work up there. The papers have been signed.”
Estelle’s face was pinched. When she didn’t respond, Hilary added, “Technically, I’ve been paid for the next month of work at Dorothy’s estate as well. And I’ve already begun tearing thingsapart. Several of the walls no longer have that hideous eighties wallpaper. But they’re exposed.” She sipped her coffee and grimaced. “I can’t imagine that will help the mansion sell.”
The money Dorothy had already paid Hilary, as well as the money promised to Hilary for the job in the future, was money she was relying on, especially after so many months off in preparation for the wedding (and in celebration of it). Aria certainly needed that money as well.
That was when Hilary remembered to ask her mother a question that weighed heavily on her mind. “I can’t stop thinking about Dorothy’s husband. What happened with Dorothy and Philip? What was that love story?”
Estelle’s eyes glinted with intrigue. She wrapped both hands around her mug of coffee. “Nobody’s talked about Philip Wagner in years.”
“That sounds sinister,” Sam said, cozying up on the sofa next to Hilary.
It was as though they were little girls again, preparing their hearts and minds for a classic Estelle bedtime story.
Chapter Eight
Back in Manhattan, Aria woke up at dawn in a brownstone home she barely recognized. On her phone was a barrage of text messages from Gina. It was fascinating to remember that just last night, Aria had gone out with Gina as a last-ditch attempt at not feeling so painfully alone in a city that seemed like it was going to swallow her up. Now, because of her connection to that bigwig Philip Wagner, it was like Gina couldn’t get enough of her. It was like she almost thought her connection to Aria would get her places in the world.She’ll figure out quickly that I’m nobody, Aria thought glumly, scanning through Gina’s texts.
GINA: I have to go to work – ugh! So hard to work when there’s so much going on! But let me know if you need anything from me today.
GINA: And let me know if anyone from Dorothy Wagner’s team reaches out to you with details! I’m dying to know what happens to her massive estate.
GINA: Check socials. People are talking all about her and Philip’s marriage on there. Like, they were THE COUPLE in the nineties. Minus the affairs.
Aria wanted to write back that Dorothy was a wonderful and kindhearted and quick-witted woman. She wanted nothing to do with a life of banking and investments and so on. She wanted beauty and laughter and good food and gossip.
But what did Aria really know about Dorothy? She didn’t want to speak out of turn.
Aria called her mother to check in, then put on her shoes and went for a walk through Greenwich. Summer in the city brought a sense of life and vitality to everything. Guitar players busked on the streets, dancers practiced in the parks, and jugglers performed at every intersection. There were smells of hot dogs and pizza slices and every type of pastry imaginable. When Aria got hungry, she dipped into a bagel place and bought one with lox and dill cream cheese and ate in the sunshine, sipping her coffee slowly and marveling that her life had changed so much. A part of her itched to post a photograph of her location on social media. Maybe in that way, Thaddeus would know how “happy” she was. He’d see that she was just fine without him.
But she didn’t want to be petty.
Rather than ignore it forever, Aria pulled up social media’s answer to Dorothy Wagner’s death and found fifty-plus accounts mourning the loss of the “once-gorgeous socialite Dorothy Wagner, whose love for Philip Wagner is the stuff of legends.” Aria furrowed her brow. Based on what Gina had told her and based on what she’d read, Dorothy and Philip’s romance had been crackled and bruised. Was this really the kind of send-off Dorothy deserved—one that paired her name up with the man who hadn’t respected her at all?
Were they going to be buried side by side?
Or should Dorothy and Philip have had the breakup that Thaddeus and Aria were going through? One that allowed them to grow beyond one another? Or one that reckoned with who they were now and who they’d once been to one another? A proper ending.
Was that the reason Dorothy had sent Aria to Manhattan? To become what Dorothy couldn’t because of her heinous husband?
Suddenly out of her mind with fears and worries about her own life and what it all meant, Aria was on her feet, sweating, on the edge of a panic attack. But her actions were too volatile, and she accidentally threw herself into the person walking directly in front of her outdoor table, a man who immediately spilled coffee all over both himself and Aria. Cream cheese smeared on Aria’s cheek, and she cried out in frustration and surprise.
All eyes outside the bagel place were on her, the woman who’d caused a scene. It was not how she’d imagined her first full day in Manhattan going. Why did everything feel jagged, stupid, and out of control right now? Was the chaos coming from within her? Would anything feel normal again?
But then she heard a soft laugh and forced her eyes up and up and up to a pair of cerulean-blue ones, eyes filled with humor and interest. She blinked and brought the entire picture into focus: a six-foot-three man with broad shoulders, wearing a dark linen shirt that dripped with coffee. He still clutched his bagel and his to-go cup, but his hands were drenched with dark liquid, and his bagel was smashed. He looked terrible, or as terrible as a man like him possibly could. He was the most handsome person she’d ever seen.
Aria’s heart felt strained. “I’m so sorry!” she finally cried.
The crowd behind her chuckled again, watching her. She felt like a woman in a rom-com, but the best friend, the one who didn’t get the guy in the end.
“You’re in a rush, I guess?” the man asked, still smiling.
Aria stuttered. “I don’t know what to say.” She reached behind her and scooped up a big wad of napkins and tried in vain to press them against the sleeve of his shirt. The napkins soaked with coffee, but the shirt remained drenched. It was a fool’s mission.
“Don’t worry about it.” He waved his hand.
“Do you have a spare?” Aria asked.
