What a Girl Wants (18 page)

“We can’t go on this way,” Lillian finally said.

Sniffing, Ariana dropped her hands in her lap. “I don’t know how I feel.”

“I do.” Her mom ran a hand down Ariana’s hair, like she always had. “You feel conflicted and betrayed. You don’t understand why we didn’t tell you, and why Harriet left you. You’re thinking about Annabelle and wondering if she’s had an edge.”

“She’s your real daughter,” she said even though it hurt to say it out loud.

Lillian lifted Ariana’s chin and said, “I’ll slap you if you ever even suggest that you’re not also our daughter. You’ve been my daughter from the moment I saw you, and you have just as much of me in you as Annabelle. Sit.”

Ariana didn’t dare to do anything else.

Lillian settled cross-legged right next to her on the rooftop. “Your father and Harriet dated briefly before he and I met. He’s the one to ask about their relationship, but he’d just broken up with her when he met me. You know that we got married within weeks of meeting each other.”

“It must have sucked when he found out that Harriet was pregnant.”

“He didn’t find out about you until Harriet dropped you off on our doorstep when you were ten months old.”

Ariana sat up. “What?”

“I still don’t understand why she didn’t tell him. I think she was angry that he left her, and then we’d moved. You’d have to ask her why.” She paused, obviously hesitating. “Being a mother is more than a link through DNA. It’s a bond that goes beyond blood to the heart. You showed me that. I don’t know that I’d have had the relationship that I have with Annabelle if you hadn’t shown me the way.”

She swallowed back a tide of emotion, humbled.

In the end, she didn’t have to say anything because Lillian took her hand. “You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”

She debated whether or not to tell the truth, but she couldn’t lie to Lillian—ever. “Yes.”

“Good.”

“Really?” She blinked, startled by the emphatic reply. “You mean that.”

“Of course I mean that. You have to see her. You have questions that need to be answered.” Her eyes narrowed and she squeezed Ariana’s hand. “But if you think that’s going to make me your mother any less, you have a reckoning coming.”

“Got it.” She laughed a little through her tears. Then she sobered. “It must have been a shock to suddenly have me.”

“You should have seen your father’s face. We’d planned on having kids, just not that day.” Lillian laughed, too, brushing tears from under her eyes. Her expression softened, and her voice was full of emotion when she said, “But then you looked at me, and you leapt into my arms from Harriet’s, and I knew you were meant to be mine. Every day I’ve been grateful to Harriet for you, even when you decided to use my lipsticks to paint the walls. If she’d have changed her mind right then, I wouldn’t have given you back.”

Her heart clenched, but in a good way. “My name was Jane.”

Lillian wrinkled her nose. “Sweetheart, even at ten months old you weren’t a Jane. Ariana suited you so much more.”

“I still don’t understand why you guys didn’t tell me,” she said, because she didn’t.

“We thought about it. We discussed it, and we almost did so many times. But you were happy, and you were ours, and there didn’t seem to be any point in casting doubts on who you were.”

“I’ve never fit in.”

“Sweetheart, that’s utter bullshit.” Lillian shook her head, her expression fierce. “You were a late bloomer. So many people are. I’ve already pointed out that I didn’t find my calling until I was in my fifties. You just had to figure out what was in your heart.”

You knew that, a voice inside her said.
Get over yourself already.

She looked at Lillian and saw the woman who’d taught her how to put on mascara without poking her eyes out. Who gave her the gift of herbs. Who defended her when she tried something else new that Edward hated.

She saw her mom.

She threw her arms around her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” Her mom held her tight, rubbing her back. Then she held her by her arms and looked into her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong in finding Harriet.”

“She’s Hadley James now.” She swallowed nervously, wondering how her mom was really going to feel. “Sebastian got me a spot on her show.”

Lillian’s brow furrowed. “For your skincare?”

“I figured it was an in.”

Her mom nodded, glancing at her hair. Ariana expected her to say more, so she was surprised when she said, “Tell me about Sebastian.”

She felt her cheeks flush. “What do you mean?”

“I think you just answered my questions.”

Her face burned hotter. “It’s not like that, Mom.”

“What’s it like then?”

She opened her mouth but no words came out. She frowned. “Actually, I don’t know.”

“You like him.”

She nodded. “I can’t seem to help myself.”

Lillian smiled softly. “Then he must be special, because I didn’t raise you to give your heart to just anyone.”

“No, you didn’t,” she said softly, feeling like a brat for her tantrum the past couple weeks. “I’m sorry I was acting stupid.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.” Her mom paused. “So we’re okay now?”

She rested her head on her mom’s shoulder. “We’ve always been okay.”

*

“What do you think about Aaron?” Bronwyn said as she curled up her yoga mat.

George smirked from her prone position. “Why do you think I come to yoga?”

Ariana studied Aaron as he chatted with a couple other students as they were leaving. He was hot, she guessed, if you liked lean guys with man buns. She realized she preferred clean-cut businessmen herself. “Aaron’s too placid,” she declared softly as she got off her mat to roll it up. “I like men with more life to them.”

“You like Sebastian,” George replied, rolling upright.

“Can you blame her?” Bronwyn raised her brows. “He’s got that man-of-the-world quality to him.”

“He’s smart, too,” George said, gathering her things. “That’s a turn on.”

And she liked his voice, she added silently. She could listen to him forever.

“I wonder if Aaron would like to do a little one-on-one instruction,” Bronwyn said, twirling a curl around her finger as she ogled the man.

Shaking her head, George zipped up her hoodie. “If he does, make sure you go to his house.”

“Why?” Ariana asked, tucking her mat under her arm.

“You’ve never been to Bronwyn’s apartment?” George looked at her with wide eyes.

“I can’t translate that look.” She turned to Bronwyn. “What does that look mean?”

Bronwyn flicked her hair behind her shoulder. “George is just jealous because I’ve internalized Sun Tzu’s teachings and use them to my full advantage.”

“Don’t ask.” George twirled a finger close to her head as if Bronwyn was crazy. “It’s too scary for words.”

“It’s genius,” Bronwyn said with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “You’re just jealous.”

“Or something,” George muttered. She faced Ariana. “Juice?”

“Sure.” She couldn’t go home, because she’d think too much about Hadley James—the trip to Los Angeles was in two days—and then her nerves would get jangled again, and who knows what would happen. It couldn’t be any good.

“Juice?” George asked Bronwyn.

Their friend shook her head. “I’ve got to open the store. Come by after though and have a glass of wine.”

“It’s ten in the morning,” Ariana pointed out.

“What’s your point?” Bronwyn said, genuinely perplexed.

“Let’s go.” George jerked her head toward the door. They all said goodbye to Aaron—Bronwyn’s was more of a purr—and then George and Ariana went to get juice while Bronwyn went home to change before going to work.

They got their juices and sat at a table outside. There was a breeze, and Ariana put her hood on her head, zipping her sweatshirt all the way. “Can I ask you a business question?”

“Sure.”

“What do you think about expanding?”

“I’ve been thinking about it.” George sipped the ginger lemonade she got.

“No. About me expanding.”

Her friend choked on her beverage. “
What?
” she asked when she could breathe.

“Just a little.” She thought of Marjorie, the owner of the cute little shop at the Ferry Building. She’d thought about the woman’s offer every day since Sebastian had taken her there. That seemed doable.

But then she saw George’s incredulous gawking. “What? Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” George said emphatically. “I’m just surprised.”

“It might be time to grow.”

“Sebastian’s getting to you.”

“Maybe he’s right.” She played with her straw. “Did I tell you he arranged for me to be on
The Hadley James Show
.”

“Whoa.”

“I know.”

George pointed at Ariana’s head. “Is that what the new color is about?”

Her hand shot to her head. “They thought my natural color would look better on TV.”

Her friend shrugged.

“You don’t like it,” she interpreted.

“Nope, I don’t.”

She sighed. She wasn’t sure she liked it either. “I got a dress for the show, too. It’s black.”

“Well, that’s appropriate,” George said brightly. “Since it sounds like you’re going to a funeral.”

“Hey, guys,” a cheery voice said.

They both turned around to find Esme coming toward them.

“Uh-oh,” Ariana said under her breath.

George faced her, leaning in. “What?” she mouthed.

But Esme was already there in front of them. Ignoring George, she focused her pale eyes on Ariana.

She startled both of them when she threw her hands in the air. “No one ever listens to me! I can only do so much, you know. You have to meet me halfway.”

They watched her stalk off, muttering to herself.

George turned to Ariana. “What was that about?”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin.” She sighed. “She told me I shouldn’t look for the woman in the photo.”

“Well, I could have told you that.”

She frowned. “You told me to hire Rick.”

“Because you were determined.” George sipped her lemonade. “Did Esme say anything else?”

Ariana shook her head. “Do you think she’s really psychic?”

Her friend shrugged. “Who knows? One thing’s for sure. She’s smart.”

‡

“J
ackson and I are going to be in Texas,” Portia said over the crackly line. “How long are you staying in San Francisco? Come meet us.”

Sebastian pointed the driver to the corner of Fillmore and Greenwich. “I’ll think about it.”

“What is there to think about? Jackson is going to show me the Alamo. Are you really willing to pass on that? Are you mad?”

“I might be.” Amused, he waved thanks to the driver as he got out. His cousin Portia was a history buff. Her expertise was mostly directly related to her family—the Summerhills were embroiled in every historical event since William the Conqueror—but since she’d married Jackson Waite she was equally into all things Texan.

“Is San Francisco that nice?” Portia asked.

He glanced at Ariana’s building as he crossed the street. “It’s pretty nice.”

There was a pause on the other end, and then Portia said, “Have you met someone, and does Mum know?”

“I haven’t talked to Lady Jaks in too long.”

“That doesn’t answer whether she knows or not. If you marry someone, she’ll become a dowager countess, you know. Although Mother might be happy about that.”

“True.” Lady Jaks hadn’t been thrilled in her role as the Countess of Amberlin. He’d bet she wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about becoming the dowager, if that even meant something any more.

“You’ve barely said two words,” Portia complained. “Tell me about this girl.”

“I never said there was one,” he said, looking at her buzzer and wondering if she was home.

“You didn’t say there wasn’t either,” his cousin replied wisely. “If I come to San Francisco, will you take me to Alcatraz?”

He grinned. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to see you, and it seems as though you’ve decided to stay there.”

“I haven’t decided anything yet,” he protested.

“Then come see me in Texas.”

As if on cue, Edward Warren rounded the corner, heading toward him with a nod when he saw him. “Portia, the person I’m meeting just arrived.”