“Good, I’m glad.” Beth gave Reagan’s hand one last squeeze. “And since I haven’t yet had the opportunity to congratulate you on your new marriage, congratulations.” Her smile dimmed a little, shadows entering her eyes. “I know this wasn’t the homecoming you were expecting though. And I’m sorry you had to return to this...mess.”
Reagan didn’t have to ask to what mess Beth referred. Until two weeks ago, the oldest Wingate daughter had been living on the estate with her family. But now she resided with her fiancé, Camden Guthrie, due to the foreclosure on the family properties.
Beth, lovely and elegant with a slim build and dark blond hair, had always been the epitome of composure and grace. But even she appeared a little tired and strained despite reuniting months ago with her first love. The trials the family faced obviously weighed on her. And having to continue to organize the TCC’s charity masquerade must be one more added pressure.
“The masquerade ball is next month, in October, and even though a few people have regrettably returned their tickets because of our...association with the event, ticket sales are still steady. At least most folks are more interested in attending the social event of the year than in shunning the Wingates.” Beth’s mouth straightened into a grim line before she shook her head. “Anyway, I really hate that our family issues are overshadowing your marriage, Reagan.”
“Please don’t apologize, Beth. Our vows included ‘for better or worse.’ We’re just experiencing a bit of the worse right now.” Reagan shrugged a shoulder, the relaxed gesture belying the tangle of knots in her stomach. “Besides, it’s not like we have the most conventional of marriages.”
“Do any of us?” Harley chimed in from next to her. Her childhood friend tipped her head to the side, her long, straight brown hair falling over her shoulder as she studied Reagan. “I mean, Beth reunited with her long-lost love after a ton of lies and secrets. I had a whole secret baby scandal. But the point is we ended up with the men we love and who love us in return.”
“Isn’t that just like happy couples? You’re in love so you see it everywhere.” Reagan huffed a chuckle. As delighted as she was to have her old friend back in Royal after five years—even if it was only until after her upcoming wedding—she’d forgotten about Harley’s stubbornness. “I adore you like a sister, Harley, but I don’t want you to start making Zeke and me into the next fairy tale. We married so I could receive my inheritance, that’s all.” Even though that goal didn’t look obtainable at the moment.
Harley waved away Reagan’s objection. “I know, I know, that’s the party line between you and Zeke. Regardless of the hows and whys, I’m just glad my best friend and my cousin are together. You make a great couple. And I believe you’re good for each other.”
Before Reagan could reply, Gracie Diaz swept into the meeting room. “Hey, everyone. I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, the apology slightly breathless.
Reagan remembered Gracie Diaz from her time spent at the Wingate estate. Only a couple of years older than her, Gracie had been the daughter of a family ranch hand, and later, hired by Beth as an assistant for the various charities she managed. Even though there’d been a difference in their statuses, she and Beth were very good friends. But more recently, Gracie had become a national celebrity for winning the sixty-million-dollar Powerball lottery. She was Royal’s own rags-to-riches story.
As the stunning brunette pulled out one of the chairs and sat—no, collapsed—onto it, Reagan narrowed her eyes, studying her. Nothing could detract from the beauty of Gracie’s thick, dark hair and lovely brown eyes, but Reagan still couldn’t help but notice the faint circles under slightly puffy eyes, as if she’d recently been crying.
“No problem, Gracie.” Beth frowned, scooting to the edge of her seat and wrapping an arm around her friend’s shoulders. Pulling her close for a quick hug, she said, “Now don’t take this the wrong way, hon, but you look terrible.” Gracie snorted, and Beth grinned at the other woman. “The masquerade plans can wait. What’s going on?”
Gracie propped her elbows on the table and pressed her palms to her forehead. “I swear, since winning the lottery and all that money, I’ve vacillated between being eternally thankful and cursing the day my numbers pulled up.” She sighed, and the sound contained so much exhaustion, Reagan winced in sympathy. “Growing up, I never did understand the saying more money, more problems, because we never had money. But now...”
“Gracie, what’s happened?” Harley pressed, leaning forward and clasping her upper arm.
“You must not have seen the news today,” Gracie said, tunneling her fingers through her hair, then dragging the thick strands away from her face. “Apparently my cousin is claiming he bought the lottery ticket, and I stole it from him. Now he’s insisting I turn more than half the winnings over to him. Which is ridiculous. I haven’t seen my uncle’s son in years, but now suddenly I’m a thief who steals from family.”
Reagan snatched her phone from her purse, and in moments, brought up the local news’ website and viewed the clip posted at the top of the home page. Apparently Gracie’s family drama had temporarily replaced the Wingates as the newest scandal. Silently, she watched as a reporter interviewed Alberto Diaz outside Royal’s town hall. He claimed that he was devastated and angry that his own cousin could betray him. Convincing sorrow etched his features as he gave his forgiveness to Gracie, but still demanded half of the money.
The sound bite skipped to the same reporter racing to reach Gracie as she opened her car door. Understandably, Gracie was angry at the accusation and refuted the lie before ducking into her car and driving off.
“He’s lying,” Reagan declared, dropping her phone onto the table.
“Of course he is,” Harley agreed fiercely, her eyes blazing. “I can’t believe they even gave him airtime for that. They’re no better than a tabloid spreading that garbage.”
“Yes, well
, unfortunately, people thrive on that kind of trash. And it’s easier for them to believe the salacious things than the truth.” Gracie lifted her hands, palms up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload this on all of you. There’s nothing I can do about it right now.”
“You’re going to fight him, aren’t you?” Beth demanded.
“Oh, you’re damn right,” Gracie seethed. “I don’t mind helping family out. I’m buying Mom a new home in Florida so she can be closer to her sister, and I’m paying for my brother to attend a private school so he can achieve every one of his dreams. So, if Alberto would’ve asked me for help, for money, I would’ve gladly given it to him. But this? Accusing me of a crime and trying to extort half of my winnings? That’s blackmail, and I’m not giving in to it.”
“Good for you!” Reagan praised, admiring this woman’s grit and backbone. “And if there’s anything we can do, just let us know. You got us in your corner ready to fight.”
For the first time since she entered the room, Gracie smiled. “Thank you, Reagan. All of you.” She pressed her palms to the tabletop. “Okay, enough about my unscrupulous family woes. Where are we with the masquerade ball?”
Beth covered her friend’s hand and squeezed before picking up a paper and passing it to Harley. “I was just about to tell Harley and Reagan about the Cinderella Sweepstakes.”
“Anything with Cinderella in it, I’m for it,” Reagan teased, accepting the sheet Harley held out to her.
“I know, right?” Beth grinned. “You have the details there, but the gist of it is the local radio station offered a free makeover and ticket to one lucky winner. And considering each ticket is a thousand dollars, this is a wonderful opportunity. The station came up with the name Cinderella Sweepstakes. Isn’t that perfect? The contest should bring more publicity and money to the ball. Fingers crossed. With all of us working together, it’s going to be a wonderful success this year.”
The meeting continued for the next couple of hours, and by the time Reagan left the clubhouse and pulled up outside the small town house rental she and Ezekiel had moved into, satisfaction was a warm glow inside of her. Satisfaction and excitement.
Working with the Wingate women and Gracie had stirred ideas about a possible fundraiser for the girls’ home where she volunteered. With her father withholding her inheritance, Reagan might not be able to build her own home anytime soon, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t come up with an alternative to support the unwed and pregnant girls who needed help. And that included investing her time.