She starts pulling fine bones out of the glistening flesh, humming to herself.
Perhaps she’ll even confess to Vanessa something personal. To break the ice. It will show Vanessa her friend is vulnerable, too, and can be trusted, and it might make it easier for Vanessa to spill on her husband.
Daisy hears Jon’s Audi in the driveway. Her heart spasms. The outside security light flares on. Hurriedly, she sets down the sharp blade, wipes her hands, and lights the candles. She puts on a playlist of soft, jazzy music. For an instant she worries she has taken too much care—the last thing she needs is to be accused of creating an Instagram dinner.
Quickly, Daisy plops the fish fillets into the hot pan. The wine is chilling. For him, of course. She’s not drinking right now.
Jon enters carrying a pile of mail, his briefcase, and a monstrous bouquet of red roses. Daisy adores roses. It’s why she wanted to keep the name Rose Cottage even though the house has been updated and no longer looks remotely like a cottage.
He sets the pile of mail on the counter, kisses her, and presents her with the roses.
“Damn, it smells good in here, love—I’m ravenous.” He smiles that charming smile of his, and Daisy’s heart lightens. He holds her tummy. “How’s our little man doing?”
“Kicking like a football player.” She fetches a vase and fills it with water. Jon carries his briefcase upstairs to his office and returns with his sleeves rolled up, his tie off, looking relaxed. It’s good to see him like this again. But it’s a fragile moment, and Daisy is cautious, even a little suspicious.
She carries the dishes to the table. Jon opens the wine. He makes approving noises as he tastes her cooking. And while they eat, she waits for him to broach the sensitive topic of the promotion. But he doesn’t. So she refrains from asking. Jon relaxes visibly with each additional sip of wine.
Finally he says, “I’m sorry I snapped this morning, Daize.” He pours another glass. “Henry’s news about Ahmed Waheed was just such a shock. I needed to let off some steam. I needed to process. But you’re right. Maybe Waheed does look to the board like the perfect prospect right now. However, I have a few weeks to show them I am even better. I just need to position myself so they can see I’m the only one for that job.” He sips from his glass. His eyes are bright.
Daisy suppresses her surprise at his turnabout. She wonders what shifted while Jon was at work today. The little thread of suspicion snakes deeper into her—he’s up to something.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to Dad?” she asks. “I know he’s no longer on the board, but—”
“No.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin and sets it firmly on the table. “There are some fresh faces on the board, and I want their support wholly. I aim to win that COO position fair and square, prove I’m the best man to take the new TerraWest resort forward.”
“Even if you don’t get it, Jon, it’s fine. I mean, we’re back home, close to family. We can have the baby here, and you will still have the position in the downtown office. That’s not going anywhere. Then once Bean comes, we can think again.”
His eyes flicker at her mention of staying in Vancouver if he loses the promotion. Mistake. Jon is not going to take loss well. Not at all. He has one plan only. Win. Just as he did when it came to downhill racing—he wanted the gold. There was no backup plan. No room for concession.
“Well,” Jon says, “I’m sure Labden will want to keep his Princess Daisy ‘home’ where he can—”
“Jon,” she warns. “Please, no. Please don’t go there.”
He reaches for the wine bottle, pours another glass, fuller this time. “It’s true, though, Daisy, isn’t it?” He sets the bottle down, takes a big sip. “Maybe Daddy Wentworth tricked us into coming back.”
Her mouth opens. She stares at him. Wind ticks a branch against the window.
“That’s absurd,” she says quietly.
“Is it, though?” He points his glass at her. “I saw that flash of hesitation in your face. Even you can see that it might be possible. Maybe Mommy Wentworth suggested it. Maybe they never had me in mind for COO. Maybe this was the plan all along. Bring you and the grandbaby back, then cut me loose.”
“Why on earth would they do that?”
A darkness enters her husband’s face. Daisy’s pulse begins to race. She knows her dad is manipulative, controlling. But he’d never do that—would he?
“Because they love you, Daize. It’s a fact. And the Wentworths get what they want. They own people and they own things. It’s what they do. And what if they decided after the Colorado nonsense that I am no longer good for their little girl, their little princess? You should never have told them.”
“Don’t put this on me, Jon. It was in the news. Everyone at Silver Aspens knew about it. Of course Mom and Dad were going to hear about the stalker. At least coming from me, I could control the narrative and soften the blow. Besides, it blew over. Everyone now knows that the woman was mentally unstable and desperate for attention. She set you up, targeted you. She admitted it.”
He holds her gaze. Something inside him seems to back down. He smiles, but it looks harsh. “I’m sorry. It’s just—Henry made me wonder. And the fact Ahmed Waheed was brought into HQ two weeks ago—it smells like a premeditated and done deal. Doesn’t it? But it’s fine. And it’s better that Labden is gone from the company. I don’t want to be seen as winning the job only because I married his daughter.” He gets up, kisses her. He holds her face in his hands. “It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
She smiles nervously as her pulse kicks up another notch. Jon gathers up the plates and carries them to the kitchen. “So how was your day?” he asks as he packs the plates into the dishwasher. “It was the maid’s morning, wasn’t it? Where did you end up going? Did you have lunch with Vanessa again?”
“I went for a walk and then met Vanessa at the bistro.”
“How is she?”
“Pregnancy suits her better than me.”
“That can’t be true. You’re blooming.”
“Ballooning.”
He laughs. “You’re gorgeous to me.”
Daisy hesitates. “I met her husband, Haruto. Briefly. He came into the bistro to fetch her.”
“Fetch? You make it sound like a dog coming for his ball.”
“Well, that’s sort of how it seemed.”
He stills. “What do you mean?”
“Sort of . . . I—I’m not sure.”
He waits.
“Controlling, I guess. Vanessa is always so enviably poised, but when Haruto appeared outside the bistro window, she just unraveled. Got totally flustered. Couldn’t even speak straight. Honestly, Jon, she looked scared. And the way he gripped her arm—the more I think about it, the more I’m concerned for her.”
“The perfect Vanessa? Afraid of her own husband?”
“Maybe we should have them over for dinner or something. Then you can meet them both and check it out for yourself.”
“Maybe we should.”