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“We arenot.” The look on her face soured. “That space is going to be a sauna—not a dull music hall.”
Annalise tried to do damage control. “Mom?—”
“I’m sorry to waste your time flying all the way out here, Mr. Astor, but it seems you made the trip unnecessarily.”
Mrs. Conan had no authority to say such things, of course. She was on the country club’s board of directors, sure, but the board now fell privy to the wishes and demands of the charity anditsboard. If Rhythms of Hope wanted to remodel the Du Ponte Music Hall, they would.
Aaron had to know this, of course, but he tipped his head, knowing when to back down. “Even so, it’s nice to be back here again on a bit more… casual business.” He looked down at Fiona and gave her a warm grin.
Fiona looked like her knees were about to give out.
“Mr. Astor,” a new voice cut in, and while the voice was luxurious, it made me freeze.Crap.Mrs. Pine. “Allow me to deeply apologize for the egregious mistake. Please let us to get you a replacement.”
The event coordinator turned and shot me a glacial glare.Fix this or else.
The last thing I wanted to do right now was to speak to him again, but an order was an order, and to disobey Mrs. Pine meant death. I stepped forward. “Please follow me, and I can get you?—”
“This is a cashmere and Egyptian cotton blend Malstoni,” he said factually. “This place has those lying around?”
If you wanted an exact replacement, you shouldn’t have dumped my tray.
Fiona still patted at his pectoral—an area thathadn’tbeensoaked by the flutes. “You should offer to pay for it,” she said while staring at me. “Out of your salary.”
“Or Aaron should watch where he’s going.” Annalise stood sandwiched between her mother and Caroline. Caroline had her arm looped through Annalise’s, and I tried to peer past her expression, but I couldn’t tell if she was shocked at Annalise’s appearance or if she already knew. “Lovey is the best server on staff—the only way she’d make a mistake is if he ran into her first.”
At least I could count on someoneto defend my honor.
Aaron pressed a hand over Fiona’s, ceasing her rubbing. “No, it is my fault.” His gaze cut to mine. “I should’ve been more careful.”
Careful not to purposefully upend my entire tray, sure.
The ladies seemed to draw closer to him, as if his willingness to throw himself under the bus for a staff member was a magnet. But that “bus” was as light and pointless as his wool and cotton blend shirt. In the end, it didn’t matter. It was one thing for a guy like him to make mistakes, but for a girl like me, it was something else entirely.
“Lovisa, go fetch a fresh shirt, now.” This time, Mrs. Pine didn’t bother to soften her voice.
“We’ll go with,” Caroline cut in, giving sympathetic eyes to Aaron. “So he can change. That shirt hasgotto be sticky.”
Aaron eased Fiona’s hand from him. “I’ll be right back, my dear.”
And to that, she nodded like a star-struck idiot.
“Not so fast.” Dr. Conan stepped up to the circle of women, offering his open arms to his daughter. “We haven’t seen you in months, Anna. Leave them to run the errand and give your father a hug.”
She shot me a look, still holding Caroline’s arm, but I quickly turned.Yes, leave Lovey to run the errand. I was on the clock, anyway. I didn’t check behind me to see if Aaron followed before I set off, quickening my pace.
And, ever so slightly, I could hear the click of his Hefman & Italia heeled loafers from behind me. The slightsquishof his soaked socks in the shoes. A part of me had been holding out a foolish assumption that he’d apologize once we were alone, but he didn’t. He didn’t try to fill the uneasy silence, either.
Thankfully, we didn’t have to venture too far. The cobblestoned walkway took us back to a door that led inside, and from there, we only had to continue on a short distance before we came to the closet labeledEmployees Only.
“The extra shirts are in here.” My voice was stiff as I swiped my key along the reader, turning back to Aaron. “I can grab one. What size?”
“I’d like to see what they’ve got, if you don’t mind.”
Nothing could be simple with him. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Of course.”
I stepped into the room first, holding the door open for him to pass through. He stepped up to the rack of shirts that hung from a silver rod. The left side of the room held men’s clothing, the right side, women’s. Every top and bottom was name brand, whether Malstoni or Gilfman or the other designers in between. The racks held plain colors, blacks and whites, and organized in order of size.
In the confines of the closet, watching him languidly shop through the shirts, I couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know. Flipping my tray on yourself.”