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Whoa. That was unexpected. When he hesitated, she added, “I’m Dr. Nizer’s patient, not yours, if that is an issue.”
“That’s true,” he said, letting her think that was his reason for balking, when it was really that she’d caught him by surprise. “I’m finished by noon on Tuesday, if that works for you. And there is a wine tasting at one of my favorite vineyards we couldgo to after lunch.” No way he was going to pass up this chance to see her, to find out more, and to find out if there was any spark left of what they’d had.
“I’ve heard about the North Fork vineyards,” she said, “but haven’t been to any. I guess I’ve been stuck in my Southampton routine and, of course, my daughter’s schedule has to come first.”
“Absolutely. Do you have a nanny for her?” He’d almost mentioned Mariel, the woman who’d been a cook and nanny for Julie, but decided not to go there.
“I have a part-time nanny,” Julie said, “not a live-in. Molly also goes to some classes at the country club and another summer program for children. She’s at the age where she gets bored easily and does not like hanging on mommy’s hand anymore.”
Noah smiled. “Independent like her mother.”
The song ended and Julie said, “Tuesday sounds good.” She pulled her phone out of the small purse that hung from her shoulder. “Give me your number and I’ll text you mine.”
As he rattled off his private phone number, Noah was flooded with a jumble of feelings at the reality of making a date with Julie after all these years. His excitement and curiosity were tempered by a dose of apprehension.
He had no idea if he was getting a second chance with the woman he’d wanted more than anyone or anything in the world—or if he was setting himself up for another slapdown.
8
“You are welcome to stay at my house while all this construction is going on,” Julie said to her friend Gillian Maxwell, as they strolled the grounds of what would now be called Maxwell Point Estate.
It was fifty-plus acres in the North Fork and had a three-story farmhouse that had been turned into an inn and restaurant at one end. That was still functioning, although on a limited schedule. On the other end was a huge and glorious mansion that had not been used in a long time and would need a lot of work before Gillian could turn it into an event center for weddings and conferences.
“I’m fine at the inn,” Gillian said. “I have to be here to keep things moving.” She gestured around them. “Can you believe what my landscaper is doing? Walking paths and gardens and a new gazebo area.”
“It looks great,” Julie said. “You are really ambitious. This must be costing a mint.”
“It is, but Gordon has promised me a sizable investment.”
The mention of Gillian’s brother, Gordon, made a sour taste rise in Julie’s throat. She kept her feelings in check. As muchas she loved her friend, Gillian was sometimes oblivious to what was in front of her nose.
Like I had been.
Julie would never trust Gordon or any of his posse of wild rich boys. He was in his mid-thirties now with a position in his father’s firm, and he was still jumping from one ski resort to the next in the winter and hitting the expensive beach resorts in the summer with his buddies. She would bet the cocaine and the women still flowed freely.
“I want you to help me choose furnishings for the mansion,” Gillian said.
“You should hire a professional.”
“You still love buying handsome items and making a room look fabulous, don’t you?”
“Sure, but—”
“Then let’s have fun doing it together. I trust you more than anyone else on this.” Gillian was practically dancing with girlish glee. “Then I can say the daughter of Trevor Vaughn did the interiors.”
“No, you can’t,” Julie spat out, annoyed at her friend for wanting to benefit from her father’s famous name.
“Why not?” Gillian asked.
Julie tamped down her anger because Gilly just didn’t get it. She never had. In her own way, Gillian was just as shallow as some of the women Julie hung out with in her Southampton circles.
Julie also knew some of this was her own fault because she had never opened up about her issues around her father to Gillian. Or to anyone—except Noah. In fact, she had instead allowed her famous dad’s name to win her popularity back in their carefree college days. She had used it to let herself feel she fit in with the crowd of rich upper class kids in London that Gillian and her brother ran with.
But being associated with him now was the last thing she wanted.
“Because if I put my name on anything,” Julie said, “it will be a business of my own choosing, and it will have nothing to do with my father’s name or with interior design.”
“But you were an interior design major at NYU and the classes you were taking at London College of Fashion—”
