Gentle Persuasion (12 page)

The line rang a few times before Tamara, her mother’s assistant, answered.

“Tamara, it’s Ophelia.”

“Oh, Ophelia.” The other woman sounded sympathetic. “Did Cole arrive?”

“He did,” Ophelia confirmed. She tried to keep her voice level with Tamara, not wanting to take out her frustrations with her mother’s poor, beleaguered assistant. That may have been Lillian’s tactic, but it was not one Ophelia wished to emulate.

“Could you put me through to Ms. Reid?”

There was a pause. “She’s on another line. Do you want to wait?”

Ophelia felt anxiety creeping upon her already. The longer she had to wait, the worse it would become.

“Yes. I’ll wait.”

“Okay, hold on.” There was a pause, and Ophelia couldn’t be sure if Tamara debated on saying something more or was simply locating the hold button on the phone. Several seconds later, the sound of classical music filled Ophelia’s ears, doing nothing to soothe her frayed emotions.

What was she thinking? She shouldn’t question her mother—nobody did. The way to earning Lillian Reid’s approval did not include second-guessing her choices. Such things only elicited, at best, her mother’s irritation, or at worst, her contempt.

Ophelia remembered a couple of years ago when an intern, in an effort to display his brilliant reasoning, took one of Lillian’s strategies and overhauled it into a new model. It might not have been so bad, showing this sort of initiative, save for one small blunder. The intern had foolishly called his revision an “update” to the original, implying that Lillian’s methods were in need of refreshing.

By the end of the day, he had cleared out his desk, and as far as Ophelia knew, he had left New York for the West Coast some time later.

She began to nibble on her lower lip as the classical music dragged on. She tried to think of something that might calm her—placid pools, scenic sunsets, yoga poses. But it wasn’t until her mind finally rested on the thought of Dane walking along the beach with her at the Place of Refuge that she felt a temporary reprieve from her building anxiety.

She latched on to his image in her mind’s eye with the desperation of the drowning, picturing every inch of him she could conjure—his mouth with its slightly crooked lift at one side, how his jaw flexed if he found something irritating and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was pleased. The tension in her shoulders loosened as she thought about how tenderly he’d kissed her the day before. Opening her eyes, she realized that somehow, she had gravitated to the very spot where they’d been working when he’d kissed her for the second time. The realization startled and then stilled her, as if her instincts understood what her conscious mind did not.

It was then that the music in her ear cut short, replaced by a brief silence.

“Ophelia? This is Ms. Reid.”

Ophelia felt as if she’d been doused with cold water.

“Mother.”

It was a small rebellion, she knew. But using the maternal title rather than returning the formal use of her mother’s name was Ophelia’s attempt to let her parent know of her unhappiness.

There was another pause.

“I take it Cole has arrived.” Lillian’s voice was frosty and matter-of-fact.

“Yes, he’s here. It was quite a surprise when he appeared at the inn. I’m afraid it rather threw Dane for a loop.”

“And you, as well, apparently.”

Ophelia ground her teeth together. “This was my assignment,” she protested. “Why is he here?”

“Because your efforts have not proven fruitful thus far.” Ophelia could imagine her mother leaning back in her ergonomic chair, casting her gaze out the ceiling-to-floor window of her office overlooking the city.

Ophelia glanced around at her own surroundings—the rows of coffee trees, the mountain arching up behind the inn on the hill and the flawless stretch of tropical blue sky.

Somehow, this, too, felt like a rebellion against her mother. To be admiring this view while Lillian surveyed her own domain.

“We have a deadline, if you’ll remember, Ophelia.”

“I’m aware of that. But you cannot expect me to come here, as so many others have done before, just snap my fingers and have Dane Montgomery come to heel.”

“No? But I thought you were ready for this level of responsibility.”

Ophelia felt torn between stamping her foot and throwing her phone into the coffee trees. “You’re asking a man to rearrange his entire life, to return to something he quite deliberately chose to leave behind. And you expect this decision to be made in the blink of an eye?”

“You’ve had five days, Ophelia.”

Ophelia’s forehead fell into her hands with weariness. “Mother...
please.
” She wasn’t entirely sure what she was pleading for, but she had a feeling it went beyond Cole’s arrival and this assignment.

“I’ve told you what’s at stake here, Ophelia.” To her surprise, her mother’s voice was slightly softer. “Bianca Towers won’t budge. She’s made it clear that if you don’t bring Dane back, she’s pulling the account. I’m counting on you. I thought you’d be pleased to have Cole there for moral support. The two of you haven’t had a vacation in such a long time.”

Ophelia sighed. “Cole and I are no longer together. You know that.”

“Of course, but I suppose I feel somewhat responsible. You two make such a good team, and I haven’t given either of you enough downtime to allow your relationship room to grow.”

Ophelia hesitated, uncertain whether this gesture was genuine or simply employed to placate her.

“For that matter,” her mother continued, “it’s been ages since you and I took a trip together, hasn’t it?”

Ophelia felt her jaw grow slack with surprise.

“Where was it you always wanted us to go together? The Loire valley, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I wanted us to tour the castles there,” Ophelia replied, dumbstruck that her mother had remembered.

“Yes, that was it. I remember you couldn’t get the idea out of your head as a teenager. You were always talking about it.”

Ophelia was stunned her mother remembered. As a teenager, she had been absorbed in French literature, especially stories set during the French Renaissance. She had talked of the châteaus in the Loire valley for weeks, begging her mother to take a vacation there. Lillian’s disinterest in the subject, however, had finally caused her to drop it.

She hadn’t known her mother remembered the idea.

“I didn’t think you wanted to go.”

Lillian made a noise of dismissal for this notion. “You know how difficult my schedule can be. There was never time. But perhaps, after this Towers crisis is resolved and Dane Montgomery is settled in New York, we could take a trip there, and then stay in Paris for a few days to get things set up for your move.”

Ophelia felt her stomach twist with both delight and apprehension.

“You really would?”

“Of course. You’re my daughter, aren’t you?”

To her embarrassment, this observation caused a well of tears to rise to Ophelia’s eyes. She was ashamed to admit how often she wondered if Lillian Reid forgot she had a daughter.

“I would really like that,” she admitted, trying to keep her emotion from being too obvious.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll have Tamara begin checking flights. Send Cole my regards and do be good to him, Ophelia. He was so gracious about dropping everything to hop a flight and help you.”

“Yes, I will. Thank you—” she hesitated, uncertain which title was the proper one at this point “—Ms. Reid.”

She had apparently chosen correctly because she could practically feel her mother’s approval radiating from the other end of the call.

“You’ll let me know immediately when everything is in order.”

It was a command, more than a request.

“Of course.”

“Very well. I’ll look forward to speaking with you again soon.”

The call ended before Ophelia could say goodbye. She lowered her phone and stared at its screen, her stomach a strange tangle of emotions. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had mentioned them taking a trip together. There was the requisite Sunday brunch and the occasional dinner together, but Lillian’s personal life was so consumed by maintaining her professional relationships that she never suggested she and Ophelia carve out opportunities for more.

Maybe her efforts on this assignment had renewed her mother’s desire to establish a connection. It was a happy prospect for Ophelia. She craved a more intimate relationship with her mother, but it always seemed to be a possibility that was just out of her reach.

If convincing Dane to return to New York would create a mother-daughter connection with Lillian Reid then Ophelia had to see this through.

* * *

D
ANE
WAS
IN
the far section of the orchard when Ophelia found him. He had meant to help Keahi in the office for a bit but after Cole Dorset’s arrival, he couldn’t remain at the inn. Keahi seemed to understand when he said he had to get some air, but he wondered if his friend had betrayed him when he saw Ophelia approaching through the row of coffee trees.

She had the decency to look abashed as she approached. “I didn’t know Cole was coming.”

He suspected that might be true. Why else would she have let him kiss her twice, had she known her ex-boyfriend was set to show up on the scene? Unless she had intended to make Cole jealous... But then, hadn’t she been the one to initiate the breakup? Or perhaps her motives did include making Cole jealous, to show the other man what he’d be missing when she moved to Paris?

Dane shook his head to clear it of these thoughts. “I suppose it’s really none of my business.”

He could tell his tone had wounded her by the crease that appeared in between her eyebrows. It disconcerted him to realize he had recognized and cataloged this gesture. He had come to know Ophelia Reid far too well during this past week.

“He came at my mother’s request.”

“I’m sure he did.” Dane turned to step farther into the orchard, to put more distance between them.

“I wasn’t pretending when you kissed me,” she said, her voice so low he barely caught it. He turned, slowly.

“It wasn’t part of some recruiter’s game. I know that’s what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t. I would never behave like that to get someone’s contract. I don’t work that way.”

And to his frustration, he suspected that this, too, might be true.

“Then why did you let me kiss you?” His voice sounded far gruffer than he intended, gravelly as lava rock.

“I—” She started and then stopped. He wondered if she was trying to come up with an excuse that might appeal to him.

“I guess because I’m...attracted to you.” This admittance sent her face awash in a flush; it covered her cheekbones and spread up to her temples. To his consternation, he found it enchanting.

“That must have made your job here easier.”

Again, that little indent in between her brows. He was tempted to step toward her and run the pad of his finger against it, willing it away, but he remained rooted where he stood.

“Oh, Dane. It’s not like that. It never was. Can’t my feelings be separate from my assignment?”

He didn’t know the answer to that question. Could they?

“I don’t think I can give you what you want, Ophelia.” Even he wasn’t entirely sure what he was referring to—the offer from Towers International...or the attraction between them?

When he looked back at her face, the flush had deepened. From anger, disappointment or embarrassment—he couldn’t be certain which.

“Was it really so bad...” she murmured, “your old life?”

He sighed and looked away, unable to witness the challenge in her green eyes.

“It was...lonely.”

“Lonelier than the exile you’ve chosen here?”

His gaze narrowed. “This is not an exile. Don’t play the psychology mind games with me, Ophelia. Others better than you have tried.”

This last insult caused her to take a step backward, and he knew, by the way she looked at him, that he had won. It was a hollow victory, however, especially as he witnessed the expression on her face. What would have happened if they had met under different circumstances? What if he had known her in his previous life, back in New York? Would they have dated, eventually marrying? Would there have been children? Would he have still wanted to leave, move to Hawaii and begin anew? Perhaps Ophelia would have supported him in such an endeavor. She was loyal, that much he had learned. Perhaps his life would have been different, if he’d had her by his side.

While he had been mapping out a past that hadn’t happened, Ophelia had been regaining her composure. She straightened, her chin held high. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

She cleared her throat and turned to leave before seemingly reconsidering and turning back. “You know, not everyone is out to use you, Dane. As difficult as it may seem to believe, perhaps some people—like the people who work for you—care about you just for
you.
They don’t measure you by your performance or what you can accomplish for them.”

“Don’t bring my employees into this—”

“But they’re
not
just your employees. They’re your friends. They’re standing behind you, putting their faith in you. And it’s not because of who you were. That doesn’t mean anything to them. It’s because of who you
are.
”

Her words stunned him. In part because he hadn’t even recognized he’d placed such pressure on himself, but now that Ophelia brought it to light, he realized it was true. As much as he cared for those who surrounded him on the islands, he hadn’t entirely believed they could be sticking around just for him—just because he was their friend, and they were his.

“And whether this coffee plantation succeeds or fails, they’re not going to hold it against you. They know you’re doing your level best to keep this thing going until you begin turning a profit. They’re counting on you, but they’re not condemning you.” She drew a breath and then exhaled it in frustration. “You are the luckiest kind of man, Dane Montgomery. You’ve been given a second chance, and an opportunity to see it through, no matter how much you may dislike humbling yourself and going back to the place you left behind. But if it allows you to keep this thing going then...you should do it.” She stared him down. “The recruiter in me aside...you should do it.”