Marian huffed. “Just when did I teach you that fairy tales come true?” she asked in disgust.
Nicole met her mother’s gaze. “You never did.”
Without so much as a word, not good luck or even goodbye, her mother turned and stormed out the door.
Nicole swallowed the lump in her throat. Her mother hadn’t changed in all of Nicole’s twenty-eight years. But Nicole had. With this move, she wasn’t looking for some improbable happy ending. All she wanted—no, craved—was a life of her own that fulfilled her dreams and desires, not those of her impossible-to-please family.
So she was heading to the one place where she’d found a sense of peace despite the insanity—no pun intended—that had brought her to the sleepy upstate town. She hoped that once there, she’d figure out the right thing to do about the information she’d stumbled over.
Nicole was ready for Serendipity. She just hoped the people in Serendipity were ready for her.
One of the things Nicole liked about Serendipity was its old-fashioned charm. Where else could you find a diner-slash-restaurant named The Family Restaurant? After spending the morning moving into her new apartment over Joe’s Bar, she decided to eat dinner out and go food shopping tomorrow.
She sat at the counter, happy to just soak in the atmosphere, and had just finished a delicious plate of meat loaf and mashed potatoes when a dark-haired woman approached her from behind the counter.
“Wait. I know you,” the woman said, her gaze narrowing.
Nicole met the other woman’s concerned stare, well aware of the reason for the worry in her eyes. The one thing that had concerned Nicole about moving here was being mistaken for her twin. But the pull of the small town had been strong, and despite Victoria’s actions, people here hadn’t judged Nicole, at least not once she’d tried desperately to help them find her twin.
Nicole wanted to give them the same benefit of the doubt. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“I’m Macy Donovan. Occasional hostess, waitress, you name it. My family owns the restaurant. Aren’t you—”
“Nicole Farnsworth,” she chimed in quickly.
“So you’re not Victoria? The psychopath who—”
“No,” Nicole said, cutting her off before she could elaborate on Victoria’s crimes. When her sister went off her medication, anything could happen—and had. “She’s my twin.”
Macy’s cheeks turned red in embarrassment. “Sorry, but she hurt a friend of mine and . . . Never mind.”
Nicole winced. “I expected to deal with the fallout if I moved here.”
Macy raised her eyebrows. “And yet you decided to settle in Serendipity?”
“Yes, I did.” She squared her shoulders, intending to communicate to Macy Donovan that not only was she sure of her decision but she wasn’t about to be bullied because of her sister’s illness. Her twin was in a criminal mental health facility, living with the consequences of her actions.
“Listen, I’m blunt but I’m not judging you,” the woman said. “Erin Marsden’s my best friend, and your sister stalked her for months.”
Nicole grimaced at the reminder.
“But Erin told me you helped them find where your sister was hiding out, and she said you came to town in the first place to warn her and Cole. So . . . truce?” Macy held out her hand.
Letting out a deep breath, Nicole accepted the other woman’s peace offering. “Thanks.” From inside her purse, her cell phone chimed, calling for her attention.
“I’m going to do a few things in the back. I’ll come out again in a few minutes,” Macy said, leaving her alone to take the call.
A quick look told her it was her ex-fiancé, so she blew out a breath and hit Decline. She’d explained everything in person and there was no reason to rehash things over the phone. His call only reminded her of what she still needed to deal with, but she wasn’t any closer to a decision. Should she confront her father and ask what he knew of his partner’s accounts? Should she ask Tyler?
She’d stood outside the office of her own father—a man she didn’t know all that well, as he certainly never made an effort to spend time with her as a child—and as she raised her hand to knock on the open door, she’d heard. There’d been no question that she’d mistaken the spoken words.
Robert Stanton and the firm accountant had specifically said they were laundering money from the Romanovs, a father and son who were known art dealers in Los Angeles. The Russian mob, she thought, her stomach churning. Their entire business could crumble, not to mention they could all end up in prison. Her stomach in knots, she’d turned to run, but Nicole’s father strode up to her at that very moment. He’d called out her name, which in turn brought Robert and Andre, the accountant, out into the hall to greet them.
The look Andre had given her chilled her even now. She told herself he couldn’t possibly know she’d heard anything. But she had. Which meant she didn’t need to worry just about her family and the business, but also about the men on the other side. Dangerous men.
Should she go to her father with the truth? If he already knew about his partner’s illegal dealings, she wouldn’t accomplish anything except to out herself. If Paul Farnsworth was in the dark, he probably wouldn’t believe his daughter’s word over his longtime partner’s. Nicole’s own mother would remain in useless denial even if confronted, and Tyler’s mother’s main source of campaign funds was her husband. No way would she risk using dirty money. So she ruled out her being aware. Which left the police—and she wasn’t ready for that yet.
And what about Tyler? She knew he was honest to a fault. She couldn’t imagine him allowing illegal dealings to go on, any more than she could envision his father involving him. He’d grown up as heir to the proverbial throne—entitled, privileged—and to his credit he rarely acted the role they’d bestowed on him. She had to assume they’d keep him squeaky clean.