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“You should’ve listened to my mom yesterday.” Caroline lowered her voice. “She thinks I should pursue Aaron. ‘Men like him don’t come around that often, Caroline.’”
“Men withconnectionslike him,” I guessed.
“Bingo. I mean, son of Astro Agencies? Even if he isn’t the sole heir to it, it’s still a good title.” Caroline picked up her water bottle and replaced it with Annalise’s. “Exceptsomeonehad to go and introduce him to Fiona first.”
I recognized Caroline’s tone instantly, despite the saccharine sweetness she tried to layer over top of it. “Trust me,” Annalise said. “They’re better suited for each other.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“They started talking back in January.” She glanced around, as if looking for who might be eavesdropping. “He’s looking for someone to marry.”
At the same time, both Caroline and I echoed, “Marry?”
“Good God, it’s the Margot situation all over again,” Caroline muttered.
“It’s a long story,” Annalise said—then paused. For a moment, she looked like she was about to throw up. “I’m going to run to the bathroom quick,” she said quickly, waving a hand at her water as she stepped back. “Can you—thanks!”
“Probably realized she was about to spill secrets she wasn’t supposed to,” Caroline said with a shake of her head. “Annalise has never been good with keeping secrets.”
I watched our friend’s retreating figure, frowning. “She’s not?”
“I can’t imagine myself with a guy like Aaron Astor, anyway,” she went on. “Scrawny. He’s scrawny, isn’t he?”
Aaron’s firm, bare chest in the dim light of the closet yesterday sprang to mind. My skin flushed. “I wouldn’t say scrawny?—”
“Short.”
“He’syourheight.”
“Like I said.” She wrinkled her nose. “Young.”
“He’s only, like, a year and a half younger than you.”
“I like my men like fine wine. He’s still just grape juice.”
That nearly made me laugh. “He apparently has his sights set on Fiona, though. So at least you can use that to dodge your mother.”
Caroline’s smile stiffened. “True.”
I knocked my water bottle against my knuckles. “I should get to work?—”
“Speak of the devil.”
I followed her gaze, half expecting to see Fiona, but instead found a group of four men walking into the country club’s lobby from the direction of the Massey Hotel & Suites. The hotel and country club were bridged by a long, windowed corridor, and it was beautiful during the day as sunlight streamed through, shining off the marbled floors. Dr. Conan, Mr. Holland, Michael, and Aaron emerged from it now, mid-conversation, dressed like they were ready for the golf course.
“Enhancing the music hall is a fantastic opportunity,” Aaron was saying to the men, his voice becoming clearer as they neared. “A dedicated space opens the door for many prospects. Seasonal concerts, plays, even having performers come in for special fundraisers?—”
Dr. Conan gave a low chuckle. “You’re an opportunist, aren’t you?”
“Looking at ways to improve business makes someone an opportunist?”
“We’re not a business,” Mr. Holland said in a flat tone. “We’re a country club.”
Michael tugged on Aaron’s jacket sleeve—it was only visible from the angle Caroline and I stood at—but Aaron shook his friend off. “I was under the impression that you generated revenue from membership fees, no? Alderton-Du Ponte’s other amenities? Or have we started redefining whatbusinessmeans?”
Despite the years of always holding myself back, I couldn’t help it—I gasped.
“He’s digging his own grave,” Caroline murmured, sounding somewhat impressed.