Page 7 of To Steal a Heart
“I didn’t ask you to attend the celebration. You did that of your own accord.”
Mom was right. To think, she’d actually wanted to go back home for the celebration so she could spend time with Hector. Well, she knew how that turned out. Back to Mom’s birthday. It wasn’t like Arden wanted to miss it. She’d been in the throes of a final rewrite that had to get to the editors pronto. She went a week over her hard-fast deadline and had the editors and her agent breathing down her neck. The minute she finished her manuscript, Arden had flown to Honeysuckle Island a mere two days after the party to spend time with Mom. In retrospect, Arden should’ve just stayed home and rested because Mom obviously didn’t appreciate her effort in flying home when she was so exhausted.
“This isn’t about my birthday party,” Madeline said stiffly. “I let that go months ago.”
“Sure you did,” Arden muttered under her breath.
A tense silence stretched over the line.
Arden switched gears. “What about Talon, Effie, and Naomi? Are they coming?”
“Of course,” Madeline answered like she was miffed that Arden even asked.
Her older brother was a saint. Arden had no idea how he stomached working with Mom at the hotel day-in and day-out. Arden dearly loved her mom, but the woman drove her crazy. Effie was a sweetheart. It would be fun to spend time with her and Naomi, Talon and Effie’s adorable one-year-old daughter.
“All of your siblings are coming. What about you?”
Mom was throwing down the gauntlet. Arden had no intentions of ducking out of the family get-together. She wanted to see everyone as much as Mom wanted her to come. Even so, it was tempting to make Mom squirm a little. No, she’d better not. It would be tantamount to poking the hive of the queen bee who had a razor-sharp stinger. In other words, Mom would reach through the phone and wring her neck. Arden had no problem picking a fight with Grandmother, but she knew better than to needle Mom too much. “I’ll definitely be there for the family get-together. I’m just not sure that I’ll be able to make it to the party. It’s like I told you the last fifty times we talked about this. My book deadline is looming over me.” She was sick, sick, sick of Mom pestering her about Sylvia Laramie’s idiotic party in the Hamptons.
“I thought you were in the research phase of your work-in-progress,” Mom countered. “I would hardly think attending Sylvia’s party would hamper any deadline.”
“Oh, I have a deadline, alright,” she huffed. Thrusting out her lower lip, she blew on her bangs to get them out of her eyes so she could see the road. “A big one!” Arden was supposed to have the first three chapters of her book to her agent in six weeks. Normally, that would be easy breezy. However, the words weren’t coming. She felt like she was banging her head against the wall to get out a few sentences, much less three chapters. This was a classic case of stress brought on by fear. Her last book hadn’t been as well received as she’d hoped. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was still reeling from her breakup with Hector. She was questioning if she had what it took to be a writer. Arden detested the seeds of insecurity that had been planted in her by those cutthroat reviewers who got their kicks out of ripping a Chasing to shreds.
“Do you seriously expect me to believe that arriving in the Hamptons a couple days early is going to either make or break your career?”
Arden remained silent.
“Think of all that Sylvia and Wesley have been through—losing their father in such a tragic manner.” Mom’s voice quivered. “And then with Lizette in the mental health facility.” She sucked in a choked breath. “They need our support now more than ever. You’ve got to let go of your animosity, for Sylvia’s sake and yours.”
Arden took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It took all the effort she could summon to keep her voice even. “Look, you know how things are between Sylvia and me. I doubt that she would even want me at her party.”
“She does,” Mom asserted as her words came faster. “She told me how sorry she is that the two of you had a falling out. Sylvia wants to mend fences.”
“No chance of that,” Arden grunted. The Laramies and Chasings went way back. The Laramies owned a home on Honeysuckle Island. Arden’s dad, Banks, and Carter Laramie had been partners in a hedge fund, and Madeline and Sylvia’s mom, Lizette, were best friends. Arden and Sylvia were the same age, so it was only natural that the two of them would be close during their growing-up years. However, now that they were adults, they had little in common. Sylvia was spoiled and consumed with frivolous matters. Despite their vastly different way of thinking, Arden could have tolerated Sylvia’s shallowness had the traitor not scooped up Hector the minute Arden threw him out on his ear.
Madeline seemed to be reading her mind. “You and I both know that you were never going to end up with Hector Covington. Aside from the fact that you live in San Francisco and he lives in Wilmington, the two of you are vastly different. So what if Sylvia’s dating him? They are well matched.”
“I don’t give a flying fart in France that Sylvia and Hector are dating,” she harrumphed. That wasn’t exactly true. Every time Arden thought about Sylvia and Hector together, it boiled her blood. Going off of how Sylvia was salivating over Hector that night in the foyer of the hotel, Arden suspected that she’d planned on getting her hooks into Hector the minute she saw him.
“A flying fart in France? Seriously? I don’t know why you insist on being so crass. To hear you talk, one would think you were raised in a saloon.”
She hated it when Mom got all preachy. “Unlike some people, I don’t feel the need to put on airs. I’m perfectly comfortable in my own skin, thank you very much.”
“I beg your pardon,” Madeline countered. “Exactly what are you trying to say?”
Arden tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she scoured the street-side for an open parking space. “Sorry, Mom,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean to offend.” Just because Arden had zero patience for the confining world of high society didn’t mean that she should bag on Mom for traveling in elite circles. Being in the limelight went with the territory of being a Chasing. Mom was dang good at it. There was a reason why she’d been dubbed the queen of Honeysuckle Island. Unfortunately, Arden hadn’t followed in Mom’s footsteps in that regard. However, she wasn’t above using her family’s influence on occasion … when the situation warranted.
The largest benefit of belonging to one of the wealthiest families on the Eastern Seaboard was using that notoriety to help her friends. Like how she’d helped Olivia and her family by investing in The Seabird Gallery. Olivia’s paintings were selling shortly after she put them on display, and she had orders coming out of her ears. Of course, Arden wasn’t the least bit surprised. Olivia was born to be an artist, just as Arden was born to be an author.
Melancholy gripped her in a tight hold. At least she’d thought she was born to be an author. Now, she was hanging on by her fingernails. She needed a win. Arden hoped that if she immersed herself in the setting of her story, then the pieces would shift into place. It hadn’t happened yet, but she continued to hope. At least Carmel was beautiful. The downtown area was storybook charming with its fairytale architecture. Hopefully, she’d get some good writing material by attending the dance class this evening. Her main character was a dance instructor. Arden figured the best way to research was through personal experience.
“You meant exactly what you said,” Madeline snipped, “and I don’t appreciate it. Being a Chasing is a privilege, Arden. It comes with a responsibility that you can’t shirk, no matter how much you want to.”
Arden rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You sound scarily like Grandmother.” She got the Chasing responsibility thing loud and clear. It still irked her that Grandmother was right about Hector. Now that he couldn’t have Arden, he’d turned his sights to Sylvia. Maybe she should feel sorry for Sylvia. All Hector wanted was her money and influence.
“Don’t sass me,” Madeline warned.
She pushed out a long breath. “I don’t want to argue with you.” Arden pulled into an open space and killed the engine. Her car jerked and sputtered like it was disgruntled about being turned off. She peered into the rearview mirror as she smoothed down her hair that had gotten blown to bits from the wind. She loved her red 1970s Mercedes Benz convertible, but it wasn’t kind on her hair. “I don’t know why you’re so set on me going to Sylvia’s party. You’re the queen bee. With one flick of your manicured fingers, you can launch Sylvia back into the good graces of even the most persnickety social climbers.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her lip balm. She applied it to her lips in deft strokes before dropping it back into her makeup bag.