It was a more charged question than Sydney was prepared to answer.
And oh-so-complicated now with far more layers than when she’d arrived. Her job was uncertain. Especially since she was uncertain how hard she wanted to fight to stay in a company that didn’t support her. Nor did she want her last memories of her gram—hopefully many years from now—to be through the small pixels of an iPad.
Not to mention the complex situation with Alex. She’d promised him an exit from this fake engagement in a month and a half. So if she did come back to visit at, say, Christmas, they’d officially be broken up. How awkward would that be?
But Alex was right that it was absurd to avoid a table full of brownies because of some leftover, ancient snark. Sydney remembered how good—albeit unnecessary—it had felt to have Amelia and Everleigh righteously at her back during the last confrontation.
Sure, she could go over there by herself. Clear the air.
Sometimes, though, maybe knowing you could handle it alone was enough. What was wrong with taking an easier route? Like driving to the grocery store in air-conditioning in July, instead of sweating your way down a road, shoulders burning from carrying the bags?
Her advice to Alex was often about sharing his burdens with his friends. Delegating. Not trying to do everything by himself. It was time she took her own medicine.
With a squeeze to his hand, she said, “Come with me.”
“You don’t need me.”
Wow. He didn’t even hesitate to back up her strength and independence. Sydney so very much appreciated that he saw her that way. “Maybe not. But I want you with me.”
With a wink and a rakish grin, he replied, “Good enough. As long as I get a brownie to eat during the show.”
So she swung them wide through the crowded tables, smiling and nodding at James and the band, her brother at a table full of fellow fishermen, and even Brody with the teen crowd in the darkest corner, to the far end of the four tables swagged in red tulle. Seven plates down, she spotted her gram’s pink depression glass cake stand.
“Those are mine. Take one. And buckle up. This could get messy.”
“Can’t wait to watch you take her down.”
Except that Sydney didn’t want to do that. Honestly, she was mostly curious. Whatever had or hadn’t happened in high school, why on earth was Nora still so peeved about it now? She’d happily apologize for whatever stupid slight she’d inflicted as a teen. It simply didn’t matter anymore.
Nora wore—oddly enough—all black. Sure, the little black dress was ubiquitous, but not here at the dance. Color was king, and even the most old-school, macho men rocked a pink or red splash of color somewhere. Her hair was in an elaborate updo. Diamonds shimmered in her ears, and at her wrists.
She looked elegant. But also cold. Unapproachable.
Sydney had busted her hump up some frozen-ass mountains in Tibet. Cold and unapproachable did not stop her.
“Nora. Can we talk for a bit?”
The woman didn’t even look up to acknowledge her. She kept her focus on the array of brownies. Added not just one to her already filled plate, but three. “Sure.”
“This is a small town. We’re bound to keep bumping into each other. I don’t want it to be ugly like last time.”
“I recall you gave as good as you got, Darrow.”
Really?
Using her last name? That was definitely a precursor to a fight.
Sydney had no intention of letting that happen, though. “Probably so. You caught me at a bad moment. Chances are good I would’ve bitten the head off someone offering me a free pizza right then. I’m sorry.”
Nora still didn’t look up. Just bit into a brownie that dripped caramel down her fingers.
All right. Conveniently, Sydney had a magic weapon at her side. Handsome, witty, and the man everyone in Chestertown wanted to meet. Tonight he was rocking a fitted black suit with a deep burgundy tie. He looked like he belonged in a perfume ad.
“I’d like to introduce you to my fiancé.”
“He’s clinging to you like lint. Obviously he’s your fiancé.”
Alex was suave. Self-assured. He did not cling. Although she did hear him make a muffled snort at the assertion.
Enough was enough.
She could take Nora’s jabs. She would not, however, stand here and let her poke at Alex. “Just tell me, already. A blanket apology’s meaningless. Tell me what I did that so infuriated you back in high school that you refuse to