The cheerful voice broke his reverie, and Will turned to see a woman standing nearby, tablet in hand. It took him a minute to place her. She was a representative with the charter company; he had met her before a flight out to Montauk last summer. She had tried to give him her number, but he had declined. His rebuttal achieved the desired effect at the time, but today her gaze lingered a bit too long on his dark blond hair, his lips set in a grim line. And soon her smile gained a suggestive edge.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Darcy,” she said.
Before he could answer, the cockpit door opened. The pilot hadbarely stepped out before Charlie pushed forward and embraced him in a rough hug. “Oh my God. You did it. Thank you.”
“Yes, sir, not too bad,” the pilot replied, patting Charlie on the back as if this happened all the time. “Just a few bumps at the end there.”
The woman laughed, then brought her attention back to Will. “Do you two have plans while you’re out here?”
He didn’t bother to temper his frown as he answered, “Yes.” Then he stepped forward and clamped his hand over Charlie’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Will didn’t look back as he started toward the car with Charlie trailing behind, enthusiastically thanking the crew again. The woman would probably share the story of him being rude, one that would likely evolve into something much worse the more people who heard it. And that was fine. He had learned a while ago that a momentary break in decorum was better than the slow breakdown of a relationship.
When they settled into the back seat of the black BMW sedan, Charlie grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket. He had turned it off during the flight—according to him, looking at a screen made him even more nauseous—so as soon as the screen illuminated, a flurry of text messages arrived with one long freneticPING. The sound accentuated the caffeine headache beginning to throb at Will’s temples.
He needed a cup of coffee.
“Everything all right?” Will asked as their car pulled out of the parking lot.
“One hundred percent,” Charlie said with a nod. “Just a few texts from Annabelle and Vivienne.”
From the sound of it, “a few” constituted well over a hundred. Even before the flight there had been nonstop messages fromCharlie’s sisters, asking when he’d be there, what room Will preferred, even what temperature they’d like the pool.
Charlie hummed, scrolling through the latest litany of texts. “Sounds like the house is great. I just need to call the pool people about the heater… and get someone in to clean the windows on the second floor… and organize a different rental car…” Then his expression lightened. “But Annabelle says that she got Vivienne out of bed this morning, so that’s a win, right?”
Will nodded and turned back to the window.
That was the real crux of this summer rental: Vivienne Pierce and her impending divorce. While Annabelle had the same entrepreneurial spirit as her brother—and a successful business to prove it—the older Pierce sister, Vivienne, had made her money the old-fashioned way: through marriage. Three years ago, she married Richard Leland III, the CEO of Hurst Petroleum. Will knew it was a mistake, not only because Hurst Petroleum was under continual investigation by the EPA, but because Richard was widely regarded across New York City as a philandering asshole. Sure enough, in March, Vivienne came home to find the locks changed on their Midtown penthouse and an email waiting from Richard’s attorney, clarifying the terms of their prenup. Since then, it had been a war of attrition, so much so that Charlie had been desperate to get his sister out of the city and away from Page Six. At least for a little while.
Once the Pierces secured a house in East Hampton, it had been Charlie’s suggestion to work out there remotely all summer. At first, Will had ignored the idea, assuming it was just another whim his friend would eventually forget. After all, they had enough to deal with over the next quarter. The two friends had founded Hampshire M&A after business school and had just celebrated the most profitable quarter in their six-year history. That trajectoryneeded to be maintained. There were deals still being negotiated—Blaxton Agriculture being the big one—contracts that had to be signed, and Will refused to let anything fall through the cracks, least of all because his business partner got distracted while on a three-month-long vacation.
Unfortunately, Charlie hadn’t forgotten. But he had also done his due diligence, meticulously planning out the next few months so his remote presence would barely be noticed. He had even convinced Will to join him on the weekends, because apparently, Will needed to relax.
Will let his head fall back onto the leather headrest. All he needed right now was coffee.
PING.
Another text arrived.
“Oh.” Charlie’s eyebrows knitted together. “Vivienne wants us to find a bar to go to tonight. She says she wants to drink and ‘revenge flirt.’ Whatever that means.”
Will began to massage his temples, willing his headache to abate.
PING.
“And Annabelle says the groceries haven’t arrived yet.”
PING.
“So fair warning, there’s nothing for breakfast.”
PING.
“No milk. No juice. And no coffee, so—”
“Tell her we’re taking a detour,” Will said.
As their car got closer to town, the sprawling fields surrounding the airport gave way to the main road and colonial homes dotting either side. They passed old South End Cemetery next to Town Pond, and the ancient windmill towering over them both. Eachlandmark elicited more adulation from Charlie. By the time they pulled up to the sidewalk along the village’s main street, Will wasn’t even surprised when Charlie gasped aloud at the sight of the grocery store.
