Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

“I’m only saying what I used to say to myself in my head. I feel comfortable enough to say it out loud to you guys.” Emery shrugged.

My curiosity about Emery had been piqued seven years ago when she showed up on the boardwalk and transformed Burger Hut into a bookstore. She was so closed off and shy, however, that Bailey and I gave up on trying to befriend her. Now that Jess had paved the way for all of us to become friends, Bailey and I had frequently discussed our growing curiosity. We knew nothing about Emery, and we were afraid if we prodded, she’d slip back into her shell.

However, I’d grown very fond of the soft-spoken, intelligent bookstore owner. There was a sadness in her eyes that called to the melancholy in my own. This woman had a story to tell, and maybe she’d been waiting for people to trust enough to confide in. I wanted to be one of those people.

“So, tell me, Emery,” I tried my best to sound casual, “have you ever had that? Someone like Vaughn in your life?”

Her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. “Uh… no.”

“Who has?” Bailey snorted. “The man is one of a kind.”

“Show-off,” I teased.

“Just no?” Jess ignored us.

Emery gave an abrupt shake of her head. “Just no.”

That was it?

Bailey wrinkled her nose. “No guy you cared about? A childhood sweetheart, maybe?”

“I lived with my grandmother, and she didn’t allow me to date.”

Jess, Bailey, and I shared a glance. We guessed that kind of explained things. Well, some things. “Okay.” I put my coffee mug down and focused on Emery, my curiosity getting the better of me. “You’ve got to tell us about this grandmother of yours a

nd how a smart, beautiful young woman of …”

“Twenty-eight,” she offered.

“Of twenty-eight lives in a small town where almost everyone knows each other but is so shy, it takes her seven years to befriend anyone.”

Emery’s brows pinched together. “That’s not true. I’ve been friends with Iris since I moved here.”

“What?” Bailey huffed. “She didn’t tell me that.”

“That’s because she knows how nosy you are.” Emery winced. “I meant that nicer than it came out.”

I laughed. “You meant it exactly how it came out.”

Bailey stuck her tongue out at me.

“Children,” Jess rolled her eyes, “back to Emery and her grandmother.”

“Um … there’s not much to tell.” She nibbled on her lower lip for a second, seemingly in contemplation, and then she put her tea down. Her lashes lowered over her eyes as she focused on the coffee table in front of us. “My parents were killed in the same airplane accident as my grandfather. He had a private jet. It crashed. I was in New York that summer, at a summer camp for musicians. I played the cello. I was twelve. After … it was just my grandmother and me.” Her gaze turned very direct. “This goes no further than this room.”

We all nodded, and I realized we were all leaning forward in our chairs, genuinely intrigued. It didn’t surprise me that Emery had lost her parents so young. There was an otherworldly air about her, a purity of heart, despite her surprisingly smart mouth. I trusted that Emery would never hurt anyone, but would, in fact, do all she could to help someone. That came from a well of empathy that was often born from adversity or grief.

“My grandfather was Peter Paxton, founder of the Paxton Group.”

Who?

Seeing our cluelessness, she continued, “Paxton Group includes American AirTravel and Invictus Airlines. Invictus Vacation Group. And Invictus Aeronautical.”

Holy shit.

Those were some of the biggest companies in the US. The Paxton Group had to be a billion-dollar corporation. Jesus. Paxton, and thus Emery’s dad, were billionaires.

Did that mean …?