It Happened One Wedding (18 page)

Sidney paused for a split second, then cycled through Vaughn’s greatest hits in her head.

I’m always upfront about the fact that I’m not looking for a long-term commitment.

I don’t have sex with the same woman twice in one week. That starts to get too couple-y.

I realized it’s fun to date lots and lots of women.

The pragmatic woman in her knew there could only be one answer to Isabelle’s question.

 • • • 

MEANWHILE, OUT IN
the courtyard, Simon laid into Vaughn the moment the patio door closed.

He threw out his hands. “Sidney? Really?”

“Come on,” Vaughn said. “It’s not
that
big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal? You slept with my fiancée’s sister. So now, when you do what you always do after sleeping with a woman—meaning nothing—and things get awkward between you and Sidney,
next
they’ll get awkward between you and Isabelle. And then awkward between you and me, and maybe even me and Isabelle. There’ll be this whole chain of awkwardness that
I
will have to deal with because you couldn’t keep your goddamn dick in your pants.”

“A little louder, Simon. I’m not sure the people one block over could hear you.” He led Simon away from the patio door, around the side of the townhome where Sidney and Isabelle couldn’t see them.

“Look, maybe I should’ve said something,” Vaughn said. “But the reason I didn’t was because I didn’t want you freaking out about this. Everything is fine with Sidney. Nothing is going to get awkward.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Simon demanded.

“Well, because I’ve been sleeping with her for the past three weeks and it hasn’t gotten awkward yet. Far from it.”

“What?” Simon threw his hands out again. “Three weeks?”

“Oh . . . right. You’d probably been thinking this was just a drunk one-night-stand thing.” Vaughn pretended to muse over this. “Yeah, that definitely would’ve played off a little better. I’ll have to remember that for the next future sister-in-law of yours that I sleep with.”

Simon just stared at him.

Tough crowd.

“Come on, Simon, don’t you think—”

“Shh.”
Standing closer to the house, Simon shushed him. He pointed to the chest-high window about a foot behind them, which Vaughn realized was the window above Sidney’s kitchen sink.

“I can hear the girls talking,” Simon whispered. He took a step closer to listen.

“You know, if it’ll help, I could always sneak a bug into Sidney’s sugar jar,” Vaughn said dryly.

Simon gave him a look—
ha, ha
—then pointed to the window, still whispering. “I want to see how much trouble you’re in with my future wife, asshole.” He crept a few inches closer, then waited. He looked at Vaughn. “They’re talking about you.”

“No, really?”

Simon listened for another moment, then narrowed his eyes at Vaughn. “You met Sidney at a coffee shop?” he whispered. “
This
is how I find that out?”

So, apparently, they were coming clean about that now. Vaughn ducked and moved to the opposite side of the window, wondering what other secrets Sidney was spilling.

He heard Isabelle speaking.

“So basically, what you’re telling me is that you and Vaughn have been lying to me and Simon from day one.”

Across the window, Simon nodded emphatically in agreement.
Exactly
.

“‘Lying’ is such a strong word,” Sidney said. “I’d prefer to say, ‘omitting the truth.’ Kind of like what you and Simon are doing with this pregnancy.”

Vaughn smirked at Simon.
Take that
.

“Okay. But is there anything else you’re ‘omitting,’ Sid? You say you’ve slept with Vaughn a few times now. He spent the night, he uses your shower . . . is it possible, maybe, this is turning into something more than a casual fling?”

Vaughn went still, waiting for Sidney’s answer.

“Give me some credit, Izz. You know I’m smart enough not to fall for a guy like
Vaughn
.”

Vaughn stared at the window for a moment.

Very aware that his brother’s eyes were on him, he looked over and shrugged. “See? Told you there was nothing to worry about.”

MONDAY AFTERNOON, VAUGHN
stormed into the FBI office with an ax to grind.

While out grabbing a quick sandwich for lunch, he’d received an e-mail from Cade who, apparently, had dropped by the FBI building for a witness interview in another case and wanted to “talk” to Vaughn while there.

After getting off the elevator, Vaughn strode through the hallway and rounded the corner where his cubicle was located. He spotted Cade, chatting with Huxley at the cubicle across from Vaughn’s.

“Hey, we were just talking about you,” Cade said.

Vaughn folded his arms across his chest, getting right down to it. “Entrapment? We really need to have a conversation about this?”

Cade looked him over, as if sensing his mood. “You’re pissed about my e-mail? I just said I wanted to talk.”

“
Pritchett
approached Batista,” Vaughn emphasized. “He told Batista about his group of cops who can transport anything into the city without getting busted. He asked Batista if he could hook him up with anyone who might be interested. How is that entrapment?”

“I didn’t say it was,” Cade answered calmly. “What I said was that in a case where the FBI is acting undercover as both the buyer and the seller of the illegal goods, we need to make sure that we have strong evidence of predisposition.”

Vaughn scoffed. Generally, he liked working with the prosecutors at the U.S. Attorney’s Office. He really did. And on a personal note, he and Cade had been good friends for years and he respected the hell out of the guy. But sometimes, occasionally, the prosecutors got so wrapped up in being lawyers and worrying about the big picture that they forgot that it was the
agents
working in the field everyday, putting their asses on the line to get the prosecutors the evidence they needed to do their jobs. “And how is Batista’s testimony not strong firsthand evidence of that?”

“I’m just looking at this through my trial lens,” Cade said. “Batista is a convicted felon. I’d rather not hang my entire rebuttal to any possible entrapment defense solely on his testimony. So, the more we can get Pritchett talking on the record about the other jobs they’ve done, the better.”

Huxley jumped in here. “Which, as I was just explaining to Cade, I believe we have covered,” he said to Vaughn. “I told him how chatty Pritchett’s been and how much you’ve been able to draw out of him during your meetings.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Cade said. “I’m just making sure we have our
i
’s dotted and our
t
’s crossed at this point so that we don’t have a bigger problem later.”

Well . . . fine. Vaughn supposed that didn’t sound entirely irrational. “Good. Glad we got that straight,” he said grumpily.

Now that the dust had settled, Cade looked him over. “Sounds like somebody skipped his skinny vanilla latte this afternoon. Everything okay?”

Vaughn shrugged this off. “Sure, everything’s fine.” He took a seat in his desk chair.

“So I shared with Addison the intel Sidney gave us about this charming, Mayberry-like small town you’re from,” Huxley said. “She was as shocked as Cade and I.”

On Saturday night, when they’d all been buzzed, Sidney had entertained the group with stories about Apple Canyon—even getting several
oohs
and
ahhs
when she’d produced photographic evidence of the
actual key
she’d been given at the bed-and-breakfast. Though his memory was a little fuzzy about a few things, Vaughn distinctly remembered how much they’d all laughed that night. And also how some warm, unfamiliar feeling had settled deep in his chest, seeing her getting along so well with his friends.

“I told Brooke the same story,” Cade said. “She suggested that the six of us get together for dinner some t—”

Vaughn held up his hand, cutting him off. “I think we all need to slow down. Sidney and I aren’t doing a couples dinner or whatever with you guys. For starters, we’re not a couple.”

Huxley looked surprised by this. “You two sure seemed pretty friendly on Saturday night.”

Vaughn shrugged. “I’m not saying I don’t like her. She’s great. We have a lot of fun together. But this is just a short-term deal between us—and believe me, if she were here right now, she would tell you the exact same thing.”

Having nothing else to say about that, he turned around to face his computer and got back to work.

 • • • 

TUESDAY MORNING, SIDNEY
had just finished a conference call with the consulting firm, wrapping up a few last-minute details regarding the compensation package she planned to offer Karen if the interview went well, when her secretary buzzed her.

“Your father called while you were on the other line,” Darnell said.

Ah, good—Sidney had been waiting for him to call her back. She’d left him a message yesterday, saying that she’d like to drop by the house to go through her mother’s wedding dress and accessories, which her father had been keeping in the attic. She wanted to do something special for Isabelle’s “something old,” and thought that incorporating something their mother had worn on her wedding day would be perfect.

She quickly called him back on his cell phone, wanting to check this item off her to-do list before her interview with Karen.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help,” her father said when he answered, immediately getting right down to it.

She knew her father was out of town, having taken a couple days off work to go golfing with some friends in Pebble Beach. Presumably, he’d misunderstood the nature of her request. “Oh, I don’t need you to go through the stuff. I just wanted to check when it would be convenient for me to come by the house. If I drop by tomorrow evening, will Jenny be around to let me in?”

“Sidney . . . I don’t have any of your mother’s wedding things.”

“Sure, you do.” When she was a kid, she had often sneaked up into the attic to play dress up in her mother’s wedding gown, veil, and shoes. “Her dress and everything else she wore is in the attic, in that old wardrobe we inherited from Grandma.”

“The wardrobe’s gone, along with everything inside. Back when Liza redecorated the house, she cleared everything out of the attic to make room for the furniture we were no longer using. I asked Jenny to check yesterday after you called and, well, it looks like your mother’s old stuff got lost in the shuffle.” Her father sounded contrite. “I’m sorry.”

Sidney stared out her office window, focusing on a tour boat gliding along the Chicago River as she processed this information.

Her mother’s wedding dress had gotten “lost in the shuffle” when Wife Number Three had gone on some stupid shabby-chic design overhaul, undoubtedly to scour the house of all signs of Wife Number Two. It was so exactly the kind of response she expected from her father, she didn’t know why she was surprised.

Yet still, she had to fight back the burning in her eyes. And something in her snapped. “Of course that’s what happened. Thanks, Dad.”

He paused, as if surprised by her comment. “It’s not my fault, Sidney. I didn’t even—”

Yeah, yeah.
She cut off the excuses. “Don’t worry about it, Dad. I’ll come up with something else for Isabelle. I have to get going—I need to finish preparing for an interview.”

She said a quick good-bye, then stared at the phone after hanging up. Drawing on her three years of expensive New York therapy, she reminded herself that not everyone had a close relationship with their parents—and that she was
okay
with that.

Sure.

She took a deep breath, collecting herself and quelling her disappointment. Then she straightened up in her chair and returned to the task at hand.

 • • • 

BY THE TIME
they got to the pasta course at Vivere, a contemporary Italian restaurant in the heart of downtown, Sidney felt confident that she’d found Vitamin Boutique’s new CEO.

“I have to admit, I was really excited to get Gabe’s call,” Karen said. “Ever since I heard that your firm bought Vitamin Boutique, I’ve been eager to see who you’d bring on board.”

Sidney eased back in her chair, curious about something. “Here’s my question: with the offer from PetSmart already in your pocket, what is it about this opportunity that has you interested enough to interview with us on such short notice?”

The fifty-two-year-old executive nodded at the question, looking polished and confident in her gray skirt suit. “The PetSmart position would be great, don’t get me wrong. But with Vitamin Boutique, I see a potential for expansion that’s just . . . exciting,” she said, speaking animatedly. “The company has a strong brand and loyal customer base here in the Midwest. To achieve the kind of growth your fund will want to see in five to seven years, you need someone who will lead the way in expanding and capitalizing on that base. I’m completely sold on your vision for the company, Sidney. I think Vitamin Boutique can be a nationwide retailer, and I’d be thrilled to be part of the team that makes that happen.”

Sidney smiled, liking Karen’s enthusiasm. They got down to brass tacks and outlined the terms of the compensation package she and the consultants had come up with. As expected, there were a few minor points that needed to be negotiated, but by the time dessert had arrived, they’d reached a deal.

“Welcome aboard,” Sidney said as she shook her new CEO’s hand.

They left the restaurant and began walking back to her office, which was only a few blocks away. It was a gorgeous summer afternoon, the type of day when Chicagoans flocked outside and enjoyed living in such a vibrant, charismatic city. Having been focused on the business side of things all morning, she and Karen chatted amiably about more personal topics.

“It’s actually a perfect time for me to move,” Karen said. “My youngest—my son—just went off to college, so my husband and I are officially empty nesters.” They stopped at a street corner and waited for the light to change. “Do you have children?”

“No,” Sidney said, ignoring the ticking sound coming from her biological clock. “Where does your son go to school?”

As Karen answered, Sidney noticed that a man waiting with them at the street corner—tall and attractive with sandy-blond hair, probably in his early thirties—was looking over at her. He seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.

He smiled. “Sidney, right?” He stepped around the people between them and held out his hand. “Tyler Roland. We met briefly a few months ago, at Morton’s. You were having lunch with Michael Hannigan, and I stopped by the table to say hello.”

Now she remembered. “That’s right. That was the day I flew in for my interview. Good memory,” she said, impressed that he’d recalled her name.

He gestured. “So you’re obviously here in Chicago. I take it that means your interview with Michael’s firm went well? And . . . if it didn’t, I’m going to feel real awkward for having just asked that question.”

She laughed. “You’re safe. I’m a director there now. Speaking of which,” she turned, to make the introductions. “Karen Wetzel, Tyler Roland.”

Karen and Tyler exchanged hellos. The light turned and the three of them crossed the street.

“So if I remember correctly, you and Michael are family friends?” Sidney asked him.

He nodded. “Our parents have known each other for years. Plus, he and I play squash together—even though he’s terrible.”

“Really?”

He grinned. “No. But tell him I said it, anyway. He’s so competitive—it’ll drive him nuts.”

They slowed down after reaching the corner. “I’m heading this way. Off to court,” Tyler said, pointing south. “You?”

Sidney pointed north. “This way.”

“Well, then, it was really nice running into you again. Sidney . . . ?” Tyler cocked his head questioningly.

“Sinclair.”

“Sidney Sinclair. I like that.” He held her gaze for a moment, then said good-bye to her and Karen.

“He seems nice,” Karen said, as they walked in the opposite direction.

Sidney nodded. “Yes, he does.”

 • • • 

THURSDAY MORNING, SIDNEY
heard a knock at her office door. She looked over and saw Michael standing in the doorway, holding a newspaper.

“I see we made the
Journal
this morning,” he said, stepping inside and taking a seat at her desk. There’d been an article discussing the installation of Karen Wetzel as the new CEO of Vitamin Boutique, in which they’d described the firm’s acquisition of the company to be “a deal to watch.”

“I think Karen’s going to be a great fit,” Sidney said. They talked shop for a while, and she shared with Michael the next steps she planned to take with Vitamin Boutique, as well as a new company she was eying as a potential acquisition.

“I know I speak for the entire investment committee when I say how impressed we’ve been with your leadership and direction of this fund. Of course, I’ve been taking full credit for this as the person who recruited you,” Michael joked.

Sidney chuckled. “I bet you have.”

Michael tapped the arms of the chair with his hands. “There’s another reason I dropped by this morning. Apparently you ran into my friend Tyler the other day?”

In the flurry of hiring Karen, Sidney had completely forgotten about that. “Oh, yes. He wanted me to tell you that you’re terrible at squash.”

“That’s interesting, considering I just wiped the floor with him yesterday.” Michael pulled something out of the pocket of his suit jacket. “When we were leaving the gym, he asked me to give you this.”

He handed her a business card.

“I guess you made something of an impression on him. He said he wanted to give you his card the other day, but he sensed you might be in the middle of a business lunch and didn’t think it was appropriate.” Before she could say anything, Michael held up his hand. “Look, I don’t know if you’re single, and, frankly, I don’t need to know. Call him, e-mail him, or don’t. I’m just a messenger here—the rest is up to you.”

Michael stood up to head out, but paused in the doorway. “He also said I’m supposed to tell you that he’s a good guy.” He held up his hands. “That’s it. I swear, I’m out of this now.”

Sidney liked working with Michael, and respected his opinion quite a bit. “And what do you say?
Is
he a good guy?”