Page 76 of Rumor Has It

The first divine sip of wine hits my palette. I relax into the couch cushions, blinking at Vespa and goading her to try me.

Isaiah’s assistant and I have moved past hiding the love lost between us. Vespa is highly competent and I understand why he keeps her around. Before I knew of her, she finagled the restaurant reservations for him. And you know what? That benefited me too. Asking Vespa to behave the way I’d like her to is at odds with the standards she’s set for herself.

However, both fish and B&B guests stink after a month. Vespa might’ve been quick on her feet this morning, but I won’t pretend her demanding behavior doesn’t grate on my last nerve.

Today was a long day. I changed the baby, collected all of her things for Monty, and sent Aria on her way to my cousin’s house. I still had the kitchen to clean. The marinade to make. Lunch to prepare. And to bring the basket clear across the ranch to the studio without the cellophane ruining the presentation. I got back in the nick of time to sign for the grocery delivery. Then Gracyn came into the kitchen to go over Vespa’s email updates to Isaiah’s schedule. Isaiah’s whereabouts was something we learned we had to manage with contractors in and out, fixing the ceiling damage. We’ve kept up to ensure he isn’t milling about when housekeeping or other maintenance crews are inside the inn.

While my sister and I chatted, I chopped and diced. The company Isaiah’s invited to Kingsbrier this afternoon meant extra mouths to feed, so I made more than the meatballs. I whisked a creamy mushroom pâté to dollop on canapés and decorated the tops with prosciutto roses with slivers of basil and cucumbers for the leaves. I set the tray of hors d’oeuvres in the dining room as I’d been directed to do while I was at my uncle’s. Isaiah’s management team wants extra space to go over tour accommodations and security.

This left Monty unable to pick up Aria. I hustled over to Gatlin’s to relieve the sitter. Aria fell asleep in the car on the way back to the inn and woke up starving, so I fed her an early dinner.

Now, she’s in a spinny contraption, intent on getting cereal puffs from the surface into her mouth. So far she’s been mostly unsuccessful, but it’s keeping her occupied. And there is something to say about that, since Isaiah looks as exhausted by Will and Ben’s visit as I feel.

“What Vespa means to say is we appreciate your help today.” Isaiah sits down on the floor.

He tickles Aria’s bare feet. She offers him the puff stuck to her finger. He eats it with aMmmand she looks proudly at me.

“Mummm,”the baby repeats, delighted when Isaiah accepts another soggy bit.

Vespa rolls her eyes, flopping into a wing chair and crossing her legs and arms. It’s obvious she thinks it’s gross.

Don’t get me wrong, if I think too hard about eating squishy, slobbery cereal puffs, it makes me want to hurl. Except, I remember Joe doing the same thing when Wilder was an infant. Seeing Isaiah and Aria together, seeing how far they’ve come, turns my insides to mush.

I put a hand to my forehead, leaning my elbow on the sofa arm. I’m counting down until I don’t have to deal with Vespa’s antagonistic bullshit any longer. The only problem is once Vespa is out of my hair, so is Isaiah. They’ll be on tour.

“Oh, what was that I overhead about Jake’s?” I ask.

“Over the holidays, we talked about me playing at his concert hall. Honestly, I’d put it out of my mind. But I guess he mentioned it to his talent manager, and they offered several dates to Will leading up to the tour. I’d like to do it just to dip my toes in the pool. I haven’t performed live in almost a year.” The broad grin that started out on Isaiah’s face falls, pinched and morose.

He returns his attention to the baby and starts making gobbling sounds, pretending to eat her feet to make her laugh—and likely to get out of eating any more mushy finger foods.

Vespa groans. “You need to do it for publicity. Not to mention, the venue is small and the ticket prices for a country headliner in the Raleigh market are high.”

“I don’t want to gouge my fans.”

She bats her hand. “You know as well as I do that people love exclusivity. It feeds their FOMO.”

“Do you have to charge a lot?” I wince.

Entertainment marketing isn’t something I’m familiar with.

“No. Jake’s gotta cover Sweet Caroline’s costs and then negotiate my fee with Will. There are travel expenses and the band has to get paid. I can take less as long as my people are compensated.”

“You?” I point my wine glass at Vespa.

She takes a haughty tone. “I’m salaried. Will gets a percentage on top of his retainer and, to a lesser extent, so does Ben. But Will doesn’t want to share with Ben out of his pot, and Ben’s priority while Will is away won’t be Isaiah if he feels like he’s getting stiffed.”

That makes sense.

I turn to Isaiah. “If you don’t need a lot of money and getting on stage is something you want to do before the tour starts, why don’t you go do it?”

Isaiah motions, palms up to Aria.

“Aandhe has yet to have a plan for what happens to her during the actual tour.” Vespa flips her legs over the arm of the chair.

I want to yell, “Why are you still here!” This is the time of day she locks herself in her coffin and Isaiah and I take the baby for a walk in the wooded area across the street.

“You have to admit, this morning could have turned into a complete fiasco. You not playing Daddy Warbucks when they showed up early was our only saving grace. Because of Cassidy, Will didn’t suspect a thing. It’s in your best interest to let him, Ben, and everyone else continue to believe Cassidy is Aria’s mother.”

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