Page 41 of Saltwater Secrets
“I can’t believe you grew up here.” Logan threw his head back and took a deep breath. “It’s so different from where I come from. Breathing in that sea air is crazy! I mean, it makes sense that you’re a creative person. Everything around you has always been beautiful.”
Grateful that he was finding his way through his emotions, Aria laced her fingers through Logan’s and listened to the water shifting across the sand.
She realized she hadn’t checked Thaddeus’s social media updates in weeks.
“It’s funny to see Renée again after that first day,” Logan said, remembering.
“You thought she was going to call the cops on me.”
“And now, she’s pretending you’re the best of friends,” Logan said with a sharp laugh.
Aria told him that that had been Renée’s first time at the brownstone in decades, which miffed him, especially given the on-again, off-again state of her relationship with Jefferson. “Why would she ignore that massive real estate in the city? Especially if she had a key? I mean, you’ve seen how small myplace is. If I had an opportunity to live in a brownstone like that, I’d take it.” Logan rubbed his chest. “Do you think Jefferson knows about the brownstone?”
Aria thought this was a good point. Maybe Jefferson had never known about it. Perhaps it was a sort of hiding-out spot in the city, where she could go and he would never find her.
They spent a few minutes speculating, walking deeper into the water, until the waves splashed their knees. They kissed like that, their arms wrapped around one another.
Aria wondered what it was about this beauty, this safe and wonderful love that Renée couldn’t grasp. Was it because of her upbringing? Had her mother taught her to want terrible men? But how did William France come into the picture? And where was he?
After they ate their traditional Fourth of July barbecue—grilled chicken, hot dogs, cheeseburgers, and plenty of dips and snacks—they gathered up their troops and headed down their personal dock, where three sailboats awaited them. The plan was to sail out far enough so that they could watch the fireworks explode over the island in a colorful symphony. Maybe because Logan couldn’t afford to avoid one of his producers, Aria and Logan got on board with Renée and Jefferson, as well as Hilary, Marc, Estelle, and Roland. Jefferson popped a pricey bottle of champagne and poured it into flutes, shimmying this way and that as he tried to maintain his cool-guy posture as the boat whipped out. Roland was their captain, but he made sure to show Logan a few tips as they went, smiling broadly. It was already clear that the Colemans wanted Aria happy—and theysaw happiness between her and Logan. They welcomed Logan into the fold.
“You heard I’m supporting the poor boy’s art, didn’t you, Roland?” Jefferson asked, his teeth yellow as he smiled.
Roland flinched at the term “poor boy.”
“I, for one, would love to see your art, Logan,” Roland said. “If Aria’s impressed with it, I’m sure I’ll love it too.”
“It’s something, all right,” Jefferson continued even though he hadn’t been asked. “It isn’t my cup of tea, necessarily, but you know, I’m only in tune with the art of money.”
“And what is the art of money, Jefferson?” Hilary asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.
Everyone turned to look at her, surprised. Was she really going to risk her job at the Wagner Estate by insulting Renée’s boyfriend?
But Aria’s mother wore an expression like she didn’t care, like she was at the end of her rope with this guy and wanted to show him what was what. Aria knew that look well, although it had rarely ever been directed at her.
Jefferson cackled and waved his flute of champagne. “You know it when you see it,” he said.
Aria felt as though she could hear Dorothy’s thoughts, even from beyond the grave. She felt them like: Get my daughter away from this man.
When they dropped anchor, Aria watched as Jefferson pressed a flute of champagne into her grandfather Roland’s hand and said, “And tell me, Roland, have you mulled over my proposition?” His eyes glinted with urgency.
It was clear he’d come to the Coleman House for business reasons, to make more money than he already had. Aria didn’t have to hear anything of Jefferson’s business proposition to know it was seedy.
For the first time, Aria wondered if Jefferson had only returned to Renée, only told her he loved her again, in order to get closer to the Colemans. She wondered if he was no better than a snake oil salesman, searching for opportunity wherever he could. Using people.
Roland smiled. “Let’s enjoy the fireworks, my man. Let’s not get carried away on such a beautiful holiday.”
Aria caught sight of Renée behind Jefferson, gripping the side of the boat, her face shifting from pale white to green and back again. Was she seasick or just tipsy? Aria had a very bad feeling and gestured vaguely toward Hilary, who grimaced and mouthed, “What do we do?”
But night had fallen on the Fourth of July, and the fireworks began a second after that. They erupted far into the night sky, exploding in purples and pinks and yellows and greens. Aria cuddled up in Logan’s arms, watching, trying to distract herself from the black hole that was Renée Wagner. Occasionally, she heard Jefferson hiss at Renée, probably saying cruel things that made Renée doubt her place in the world.
Logan shifted uneasily, muttering in Aria’s ear, “I’m so nervous around him.”
Jefferson had Logan’s career in the palm of his sticky, wealthy hands.
Aria rubbed Logan’s thigh, wishing the night would come to a close, sooner rather than later. It felt like everything was about to fall apart.
It happened not long after that.
