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“Isn’t she though,” Wagner chuckled before turning back to Bailey. “May we join you for coffee? We were getting ready to hit the slopes later. You should join us.”
Skiing was one of Wagner’s favorite hobbies. It had been one Bailey had never quite been able to enjoy.
“Of course you may.” Bailey smiled as she slid back into the booth, wishing the two would have continued on to the slopes rather than barging in on her thoughts.
“Father mentioned you were still here last night,” Wagner stated as the waitress materialized with extra cups and another pot of coffee. “Actually, I believe I heard him screaming it over the phone.” He winced slightly. “Still not getting along with him, dear?”
She shrugged easily as she sat back in her seat.
“Did Bailey ever get along with anyone well?” Grant asked then, his nasal accent grating on her senses. “Really, Wagner, I believe you’re the only one of us that she really cared much for.”
Wagner laughed as Bailey slid Grant a tight smile. “I guess Wagner just wasn’t as abrasive as the rest of you,” she stated coolly. “You should take lessons, Grant.”
He sniffed in disdain. “I rather doubt it, sweetheart. Perhaps you’ve simply been associating with commoners for far too long. They’ve rubbed off on you.”
She refrained from making a fist and ramming it into his face. The good thing about associating with real people was the fact that they were simply that, real. They might have an agenda, but it wasn’t nearly as corrupt and diseased as those she had seen when she was younger in the people who believed they were so much better.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Grant.” She tilted her head as she shot him a tight smile. “The good thing about common people is the fact that they don’t pretend to be anything else, while I’ve noticed far more privileged people have a habit of being more common than those they look down their perfect noses on.”
“Still a bitch, aren’t you?” He glared back at her.
“Enough, Grant,” Wagner’s voice hardened with a snap at the insult. “If you want to be an ass, then you can head on to the resort and I’ll meet up with you later.”
Grant’s lips thinned for a moment as he shot Bailey such a look of dislike that she was certain it should have seared her. Unfortunately, she really didn’t care if Grant Waterstone liked her or not.
“I think I just might do that.” He slid out of the booth as his lips curled into a sneer. “The company here is growing a bit stale.”
He stalked away as Bailey refrained from calling out a “Good riddance.”
“He spends too much time with Father,” Wagner sighed as he lifted his cup and sipped from his coffee. “They’ve become rather close over the past few years.” There was an edge of sadness in Wagner’s voice, almost a regret.
“You never were much like Ford, Wagner,” she stated. “Be thankful for that. Unfortunately, Grant is too much like him.”
Wagner shook his head at that before staring back at her. “I’ve missed you, Bailey. It’s almost like having Anna back when you’re here.”
The pain at the mention of his sister sliced across Bailey’s heart.
“I miss her, too.” It had been so many years since Anna and her mother had been killed, but the anger and the hatred hadn’t dimmed.
Nodding slowly, Wagner finished his coffee before sliding to the edge of the seat. Before leaving, he paused and glanced back at her.
“Father wants you out of Aspen.” His voice was low, warning. “He’ll make things hard on you.”
“He’s rather good at that.” She smiled as though it didn’t bother her. “I’ve been back for a year now, Wagner. I’m certain he knows by now that he can’t run me off.”
“But he’s still trying,” he told her. “Be careful, darling, I’d hate to see him succeed.”
With that, Wagner left the table, stopping long enough to kiss her cheek before he left the bar. Bailey shook her head, wondering if Ford Grace had ever cared that his son was ten times the man Grant Waterstone could ever be.
He likely didn’t, and if he did, Bailey doubted he cared. Wagner wasn’t cold and power-driven as Ford was, or as Grant Waterstone was. It made sense that Ford was taking Grant under his wing and working with him. Not that Grant needed the help. His own father, Samuel Waterstone, thought his eldest son could do no wrong.
It was typical of those she had been raised with. It was typical of the society she had been raised within. The children were taught that they had no equals. They were superior, laws unto themselves. Those lessons had created adults with no compassion, no mercy, and even less honor.
Sipping at her coffee, Bailey bit back the anger that tore through her at the thought of the cruelty that existed here, thinly veiled and shadowed. She’d almost succeeded when she glimpsed Raymond entering the restaurant with his petite, smiling wife.
Mary was an attractive woman for her fifty years, much too attractive for the arrogant, cruel Raymond.
Rising to her feet, Bailey moved from the bar to the restaurant, keeping her stride slow and easy, taking her time. Glancing at her watch, she was pleased to see that she would be only be a few minutes early.
