Arianna was in it to win it. She didn’t have a choice. She didn’t just want to win; she needed to. Yesterday, listening to Connor plead his case, or at least trying to, she’d considered dropping out. But the more she thought about it, the more panicked she got. No matter how conflicted her feelings for Connor, she was positive of one thing: She couldn’t go back to the life she’d been living all those weeks before. Which meant she not only had to stay in the race, she had to win.
And she didn’t feel one iota of guilt for making that choice. For Connor, being mayor would just be the crown on top of his already perfect life. From what Jenna had told her of his plans for his political future, the mayorship was the first rung on the ladder to the top. As far as Arianna was concerned, he could find another ladder to climb, because this one was hers.
In the physical therapist’s room at North Shore General, Arianna went back to straightening her fingers, slowly curling them into a hook, and then making a fist. The three movements combined took her several minutes to make. Since she hadn’t intentionally moved her fingers in months, it was a small victory. But she found it a little hard to celebrate when, sitting in the chair beside her, her grandmother had done it at least twenty times to Arianna’s one. Now Glamma was shadow boxing.
The physical therapist, Rachel, a thirtysomething woman with a headful of corkscrew curls and luminous brown eyes behind her stylish green-framed glasses, pressed her lips together in an effort, Arianna assumed, not to laugh. She clearly found Glamma hilarious.
“You’re doing great,” she said to Arianna, her voice warm and encouraging.
Arianna raised an eyebrow, glancing at her grandmother.
Rachel laughed. “She has arthritis. She’s not recovering from third-degree burns.” She reached over and gave Arianna’s good arm a gentle squeeze. “Trust me, if you do your exercises and keep your appointments with me and Mark, you will regain the use of your hand and fingers. It’s just going to take some time and a lot of work on your part.” Mark was Arianna’s occupational therapist.
“She doesn’t have time. The election is four days away, and we need people to see she can do anything the blue-eyed devil can do. They’re making her out to be weak and a cripple,” Glamma said.
Rachel winced. “Let’s not use that word, okay, Helen? Not only because it’s offensive, it’s also not true. And both you and Arianna need to realize that. Words have weight; they have power.” She gently lifted Arianna’s damaged hand. “Make a fist.”
Slowly, but a little less so than the last time, Arianna folded her fingers into her palm.
“Awesome. Now raise your arm chest height and hold it there.”
Not so awesome and a lot harder. Finally, after some struggles and breathing through the pain, she managed to do it.
Rachel smiled and raised her hand to give her a careful fist bump. “And that’s who you are, Arianna Bell. A fighter. And don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.”
Helen nodded. “She is. We both are, and we’re going to show those Gallagher men exactly what the Fairchild women are made of. And let me tell you, it’s not sugar and spice and everything nice.”
Rachel grinned. “You have my vote. I’ll see you Monday for your next appointment.” She stood up and held out her hand.
Arianna looked down at it, caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and then slowly raised her right hand to clasp Rachel’s. It was the very definition of a limp handshake, but she’d done it.
Rachel smiled. “Fighter.”
“Winner,” Helen declared.
And right then, for the first time in what felt like forever, Arianna believed them. She smiled. “Thank you. Now, Glamma, it’s your turn.”
“We’re going up to neurology for my mental test,” she confided to Rachel. “I have an appointment with a specialist in Boston, but it’s after the election, and we want proof that I’m not a loon toon.”
“Remember, Helen, words matter,” Rachel said.
“I know. That’s what tripped me up the last time I took the test with Ava over at the clinic. But Arianna and I have been practicing.”
“Glamma, I think what Helen meant was for you to stop calling yourself a loon toon.”
“I didn’t realize I referred to myself like that, but I suppose I do. I’ll put a stop to that right now. I’m a genius. I. Am. A. Genius.”
An hour later, Helen proudly waved her test results in the air. “Rachel’s right—words really do matter.”
She’d scored thirty out of thirty on the Folstein test. Which didn’t rule out that she may be in the beginning stages of dementia, especially since she’d shown signs of clinical and cognitive impairments over the past few months, but all Arianna cared about right now was that her grandmother was happy and feeling confident.
“We should go show Rachel,” Helen said as they walked to the elevator.
“We’ll bring it to my appointment on Monday. She’s probably with a client. Besides, we’re on a tight schedule.” They had events booked straight through from noon to ten p.m. They’d gotten a late start because of their hair appointments first thing this morning and their appointments here.
Time well spent, Arianna thought, when they stepped off the elevator on the main floor of the hospital and she spotted a horde of people crowded near the front doors, several women holding up their phones to take pictures.
“There must be a celebrity visiting. I wonder who,” Helen said, fussing with her hair.
“It’s not a celebrity. It’s Connor,” Arianna said, surreptitiously raising a hand to her own hair. It had nothing to do with him, she assured herself. She had to look her best. With the recent coverage in the press, it was more important than ever that she look put together.
She thought she did. The stylist had not only done her hair but also her makeup. Then Arianna had returned more than half of what Connor had bought her at Merci Beaucoup, picking up a couple new pieces her grandmother insisted she buy. Arianna wore one of the outfits now, a gorgeous black-and-white abstract print jacket over a black cami and slim-fit, ankle-length pants, a pair of black heels, and a fringed black wrap worn around her shoulders.
The crowd suddenly parted, and there he was. He wore a black Armani suit, the expensive dress shirt underneath open at the neck, the blue a perfect complement to his eyes. The man and the two women who walked with Connor appeared to be hanging on his every word. As Arianna knew, he was very good with words—and promises. And attracting the attention of every woman within a ten-mile radius.
Even in the middle of his conversation, he managed a smile for the staff, who were clearly thrilled to have him there. And, dammit, it wasn’t just the women. She shouldn’t have been surprised; the man could charm a monkey out of a tree filled with bananas…and a woman who’d been living in the dark and liking it, into the light.
“That’s the head of the hospital, and the two women are in charge of fundraising and marketing,” Helen said with a hint of both irritation and admiration in her voice.
“Well, then, we’d better introduce ourselves,” Arianna said with way more confidence than she was feeling. The words “fake it till you make it” popped into her head. She should be just fine, then. She’d become a pro at faking it. Except as she and her grandmother approached the group of people and Connor looked over, she wasn’t sure she could fake that she didn’t still have feelings for him.
He didn’t even bother hiding his, a slow smile curving his mouth, his very talented mouth, a mouth that had made her—
A voice, her grandmother’s voice, immediately brought her mind back to where it belonged. “Arianna and I were just coming to see you, Bill.” She winked at the man who stood beside Connor with one of those smiles on his face that said he was racking his brain for her name because he should undoubtedly know hers if she knew his. He had no idea who he was dealing with. “You don’t know me personally, but I know all about you. Your grandmother’s in my garden club.” She held out her hand. “Helen Fairchild. You obviously know my granddaughter Arianna Bell, the next mayor of Harmony Harbor.”
The crowd went quiet, people nervously casting Connor sidelong glances, visibly relaxing when he laughed. “I don’t know about that, but she is a formidable opponent.” Connor’s eyes briefly met hers, dancing with amusement and a challenge before he said, “Liz, Jean, have you met Arianna?”
“Not personally, but I’ve heard all about her,” Liz said. She glanced at Arianna’s hand with the compression bandage visible and smiled instead of proffering hers. No doubt out of consideration for Arianna’s injury. “You designed the dresses at an event I attended in Boston a few years back. They were divine.”
“You designed my daughter’s wedding gown,” Jean said, and unlike Liz, she didn’t look at Arianna’s hand before offering hers. “She loved working with you and your sister. Her gown was stunning.”
“Thank you. Thank you both,” Arianna said, hoping no one noticed the perspiration gathering on her brow as she worked to clasp Jean’s hand.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize,” Jean said. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“Not at all, and I know I don’t have to worry about hurting you. I haven’t got much of a grip yet,” she quipped, to make light of the moment. “But I will. Your therapists Mark and Rachel are wonderful.” She felt Connor staring at her and couldn’t meet his eyes. She was afraid if she did, and he reacted like she thought he would, she might do something stupid like walk into his arms and never walk away.
“Don’t forget Denise up in neurology,” Glamma said, waving her paper in Connor’s face. Arianna had wondered how long it would take. “She did the MMSE test on me. I don’t like to call it a mini-mental state examination because of the negative connotations,” Glamma confided, then smiled. “I aced it. Passed with flying colors. I’ll make you a copy and you can give it to the adulterer—sorry, I mean your uncle,” she said to Connor, whose eyes Arianna could still feel on her. “You know, the one on whose record you’re running.”
By the way her grandmother was tilting her head to the side, Arianna knew where she was going with this and took her by the arm. “Sorry. We have a luncheon we have to get to. It was nice meeting all of you. I have an appointment here Monday morning. If you have some time, I’d love to schedule a meeting with you, Bill, and you too, Liz and Jean. Connor”—she forced herself to look at him—“in case I don’t see you before Tuesday, good luck.”
He smiled and offered his hand. She inwardly groaned, wishing she’d just walked away. Instead she clasped his hand, and he gave it a gentle squeeze that contained a wealth of meaning and emotion. “I think I’m going to need it,” he said.
He probably had no idea how much his words meant to her.
* * *
Later that evening Arianna glanced at her grandmother as she opened the front door. Glamma looked like she felt. “I’m going to make a few changes to this weekend’s schedule. You obviously can go all day and night without a break, Glamma, but I can’t.”
“You should probably do that, then. We can’t have you looking like a wilted flower.” She made a face as she walked past Arianna into the house. “Your opponent obviously has more energy than the two of us combined.”
They’d both been invited to the grand opening of a new gym in town. Sadly for her, they’d arrived within five minutes of Connor and his entourage. “He did at least fifty of those one-armed push-ups before the man who challenged him gave up. I think you’d moved on to the yoga room by then.”
She’d pretended she was going to check out the yoga studio but instead had been watching Connor like every other woman in the place. Unlike every other woman in the place, she had intimate knowledge of his strength and stamina. She never, ever should have slept with the man. And she definitely shouldn’t be thinking of him before she went to bed.
She went to shut the door and noticed the envelope on the floor, smiling when she saw the return address. “Glamma, we can’t go to bed,” she called out as she shut and locked the door. “We have to celebrate.”
“What are we celebrating?” Glamma said from the kitchen.
Arianna walked to the counter where her grandmother was plugging in the kettle for tea and waved the envelope in front of her face.
“It’s here.” Helen cheered and kissed the envelope. “What should we buy first?”
“A car. Taxi fares add up, and as much as walking is good for us, it’s getting cold.” They’d woken up to heavy frost two days in a row.
“Let’s buy a Beemer. I loved that car. Remember her? She was a beauty.”
“I’m not promising anything. We have to pay off everyone first. Once we know what we have left, maybe we can check out used Beemers.”
“I thought Connor said the insurance pays off all the creditors.”
“Huh. I think you’re right. Your new mantra is paying off, Glamma.”
“I. Am. A. Genius.” She laughed and waved her hand. “Come on, open the envelope.”
She might be able to make a fist and give a limp handshake, but envelope opening seemed to be beyond her. She handed it to her grandmother. “You’ll have to do it.”
“Don’t get down on yourself. Look what you’ve already accomplished. You’ll be opening an envelope in no time at all.”
“Thanks, Glamma. Hurry up. Don’t keep me in suspense.” It wasn’t as if they were going to be wealthy or as if they were destitute now. Arianna was just ready for that part of her life to be over. Now that the check had been delivered, it felt like they could close the door on that terrifying night in July.
She thought maybe Serena would feel the same and decided to call her as soon as Glamma went to bed. Her sister had basically dropped off the face of the planet, yet Arianna hadn’t had the energy to chase her down. She knew she was okay. Arianna had finally bought a cell phone, and they texted every second day. But never more than a few lines. They hadn’t talked on the phone for ages.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when her grandmother simply stared at the check.
Glamma handed it to her. “This can’t be right. I’m sure Connor said we’d be receiving a check for two hundred thousand.”
The check was for half that. “I don’t understand. Is there any paperwork in the envelope?”
Glamma turned it upside down. “Nothing.” She met Arianna’s gaze. “You have no choice. You have to call him.”
“I know.” Arianna hoped Glamma didn’t hear the tiny note of excitement in her voice at the thought of talking to Connor. Given the circumstances, she didn’t want to think about her reaction for too long. She walked over to the phone on the wall and picked it up. She pressed the number she’d assigned to him several weeks before, number one. It had made sense then. He was the first one she always called. The only one she ever really wanted to talk to. The one person who could calm her down with just the sound of his voice.
He didn’t say hello or give her a chance to say it. As soon as he picked up, he said, “Are you okay? Is everything all right?”
“No to both,” she admitted.
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he said, raising his voice above the background noise.
It sounded like he was at a party or a bar. Which reminded her that they were no longer lovers or in a relationship; they were opponents in the race for mayor. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s fine. I need to ask—”
“I want to.”
“Everything’s changed, Connor. We can’t…” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then said, “We got the check from the insurance company. It’s for a hundred thousand.”
“Yeah. They wrote two checks for a hundred thousand each. One for you, and one for Helen.”
“Oh, I just assumed because I’d been the one making all the payments…”
“I know. It’s not fair, but legally my hands were tied. I was able to get them to back off on foreclosing on the house, but that’s all I could do. It’s because Helen cosigned the loan and her name is still on the building that the payout was done that way. Sorry. I thought I’d explained that to you. Are you guys okay with it?”
“Of course. Only the other check isn’t here.”
“It wouldn’t come to the house. Your mother is Helen’s power of attorney. The settlement check would have been sent to her.”