Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I know all twenty of them very well because she’s run through that list with me time and time again. My parents top it. My grandparents on my dad’s side hold the number two spot. From there, the list extends beyond the family to big screen legends and music superstars. I haven’t had the heart to tell her that at least half of the couples on her list have split up.
I change the subject effortlessly by talking about her legacy. “William did mention that he loved playing Turquoise Crown with his brother when he was a kid, so I was wondering maybe…”
“That’s a great idea!” she interrupts me enthusiastically. “We’ll swing by my house after lunch. You can grab one of the limited editions of the game to give to him.”
The limited editions of Turquoise Crown were manufactured during the holiday season, a year after the game was first released. All the game pieces are covered with real gold, and the board itself was crafted in much more colorful hues than the original. Everything is contained in a gorgeous wooden case instead of packaged in a cardboard box.
When the limited editions hit store shelves, they were priced at several hundred dollars each. Time and demand have boosted the cost into the thousands.
I wouldn’t usually ask for one, but I know that Aunt Tildy has an entire room in her home devoted to the limited editions. The last time I checked, she had at least two hundred copies of the three thousand that were produced. I have no idea if she bought them or if they were part of her deal with the company that distributed them.
“I can sign it for him?” She winks. “That will make it worth even more than it already is.”
I doubt that William Knight is the type of man who worries about money. I have a feeling that the gesture of a gift from me to him will mean a lot more than the monetary value of it.
A bonus is that it will help erase the lingering guilt I feel over dumping smelly dip on the sleeve of his suit jacket.
I reach across the table to squeeze her hand. “Thank you, Aunt Hildy.”
She pats my forearm. “It’s my pleasure, Opal. Put me down for the fish.”
My brow furrows. “What?”
“When you and William get married, I expect you to have the reception at Howerton House. They offer a few different entrees, so I want the fish.”
I laugh so hard tears well in my eyes. Aunt Hildy knows my history. She’s well aware of why I’ve sworn off marriage for the rest of my life, but her comment is so completely unexpected I can’t help but find it hilarious.
“Go ahead and laugh,” she finally says when I settle down. “I can spot a future couple a state away, and even though I only caught a glimpse of you next to him at the soft launch of the bar, I saw something special.”
“You didn’t,” I disagree gently. “For the record, my stance on marriage hasn’t changed. It’s still a big no for me. Besides, I don’t think William’s interested in me that way, or any way for that matter.”
“Think again.” She leans back to pick up her drink. It’s what she always orders. It’s a Shirley Temple in a tall glass with double ice.
With her glass in her hand, I know what she’s waiting for, so I pick up my glass of soda.
She taps her Shirley Temple against my soda and sighs. “To Opal and William and their love story.”
I take a sip and smile. Arguing with her won’t serve any purpose, so I let it slide. “Let’s finish lunch. I need to get back to the bar.”
“My house first,” she reminds me. “You want to be ready to give William that gift when you see him again.”
I don’t think that will happen until the bar is open to the public, and for that to take place on time, I have a long to-do list I need to tackle.
I pop a fry in my mouth and smile at Hildy. “You’re the best great aunt anyone could ever wish for.”
“I know,” she says with a wink of her eye. “I know, dear.”
14
William
The tantrum playing out in front of me is the very reason why I’m successful.
I’m in the lobby of the Beaumont Hotel, waiting for a client to come down from his suite to meet me for a drink in the bar. He calls Boston home, but the woman he is crazy in love with lives here in Manhattan.
His situation is somewhat unique in that he loved and lost. He loved this woman for five years before he lost her because he stopped viewing her as a gift.
He wants a second chance, so I’m here to help give him that.
That’s all well and good, but while I wait for Rupert, my client, to show up, I’m being subjected to a shitshow of toddler theatrics from what appears to be a man in his thirties. I’d peg us around the same age on paper, but this fool is lagging behind me by leaps and bounds when it comes to emotional maturity.