Lying on my stomach on my bed, I swung my feet in the air behind me as I chewed on the top of my pencil and decided how to start. Do I just write Dear Diary or is that geek city?

“Stella?” My father’s voice and the sound of him attempting to turn my door handle startled me.

I jumped up, and the diary bounced off the bed, landing pages down on the floor. “Uh, who is it?”

“It’s your father. What other man knocks on your bedroom door, and why is it locked?”

“Ummm…because I’m getting changed for bed.”

“Oh. Alright. I was just popping in to say goodnight.”

“’Night, Dad!”

“Goodnight, pipsqueak.”

I listened for his footsteps to fade into the distance before I scooped the diary off the floor. Some of the pages in the middle had wrinkled, so I went to smooth them out. But when I turned the book over, I found words written on the pages. Lots of them. Confused, I read a few lines and then flipped a few pages back. My eyes widened as I read the top of one of the pages.

Dear Diary,

Oh my God!

I flipped back more pages. Two or three were filled with words, but then there was the same start.

Dear Diary,

Pages and pages were filled. How could I have not noticed? I could’ve sworn I’d opened it at the garage sale. But as I flipped to the beginning, I realized why I hadn’t spotted all the blue ink. The first five or six pages of the diary were completely blank.

But whose diary was it? The woman said she’d bought it at a garage sale years ago. So had she not noticed either?

Maybe I should go back and return it.

Or give it to my mom and see what she thought I should do?

Though…

Maybe I could read a little first and see if it gave me any idea who the book belonged to.

I didn’t have to read the entire thing.

Just one little entry.

That would be it.

I flipped through from the first page to make sure I was at the very beginning, and then scanned the two simple words on the first line.

Dear Diary…

Just one little entry.

It couldn’t do any harm.

I had no idea then just how much those words would come back to haunt me.

CHAPTER 7

 

Stella

 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Stella. It’s Olivia.”

I switched the phone to my other ear so I could finish putting on my earrings. “How are you, Olivia?”

“I’m good. But my day is a little busier than I’d thought. Do you think you might be able to come by my office today with the perfumes? I’m not sure where you live, but if downtown is a giant pain in the ass for you, I can send a car.”

My apartment was on the Upper East Side, so getting downtown was actually pretty inconvenient. But I owed Olivia, so I wasn’t about to complain. “That’s fine. I have some errands to run downtown anyway.”

“Oh, that’s great. Thank you. Is around two o’clock okay?”

“Sure, that’s perfect.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

It sounded like she was about to hang up. “Wait—I need the address.”

“Oh, sorry. I thought you had it.”

Why would I have her office address? Did she think I’d stalked her thoroughly before showing up at her wedding? Jesus, just when I’d started to get over being embarrassed. “No, I don’t.”

“It’s Fifteen Broad Street. Fourteenth floor.”

I shut my jewelry box. Broad Street? That’s where Hudson’s office was. “You work in the same building as your brother?”

“Oh, I assumed you knew. Hudson and I actually work together. Rothschild Investments was our father’s business.”

I hadn’t known. And it shouldn’t have made any difference, but I’d be lying if I said the thought of possibly running into Hudson didn’t make my pulse race.

When I went quiet for a minute, Olivia wrongly assumed why.

“It’s a pain in the ass to get to, isn’t it? Let me send a car for you.”

“No, no—it’s absolutely fine. I’ll see you at two.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. But thank you.”

After I hung up, I looked in the mirror above my dresser. I’d gotten out of the shower and put my wet hair into a ponytail. Suddenly I thought I might be in the mood to take it down and give it a nice blow-dry.

 

***

 

“Hey!” I stood from my seat in the reception area, and Olivia swamped me in a big hug. “Sorry to make you wait. I’ve had an awful morning.”

I wished I looked as bright-eyed and chipper as she did having a bad day. “It’s fine. I wasn’t waiting long.”

She waved toward the inner sanctum. “Come on back. Do you have to leave right away? I was hoping we could talk. I ordered us some salads in case you were hungry.”

I still couldn’t get over the turn of events—that the woman whose wedding I’d crashed wanted to be my friend. “Sure. I’d love that. Thanks.”

I followed Olivia, turning left and then right. I knew from my visit to pick up my cell phone that the last door on the end of this hallway was Hudson’s office. As we walked closer, my mouth grew dry. His door was open, so I attempted to sneak a look inside without getting caught. Disappointment set in as we passed, and I saw it was empty. But it was probably for the best. I’d wasted enough time on a man who hadn’t called.

Olivia’s office was located around the corner from her brother’s. It was large and sleek, but not quite the proverbial corner office with the floor-to-ceiling windows looking down on the city like her brother had. Don’t get me wrong, I’d be thrilled to sit in a closet in this building. But I found it interesting that his space made it appear he was higher on the corporate food chain when Olivia had said they worked together—not that she worked for her brother.

“I skipped breakfast. Do you mind if we eat before I take a look at the perfumes? I’m dying to get my hands on it, but I’m also diabetic and shouldn’t skip meals.”

“Sure, of course.”

Olivia and I sat across from each other. I unfurled the cloth napkin that held the utensils and laid it across my lap.

“This looks great.”

“I hope you like it. I ordered a chopped salad that had some of the same ingredients that were in your lunch the last time we got together. Just to be safe.”

God, she was so thoughtful.

We dug into our salads. “So any better news about Signature Scent?” she asked.

I forced a smile, trying not to let on how miserable I was. “Not really. The launch is going to be more delayed than I’d hoped since the SBA loan fell through.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry about that. I kind of thought it might not get approved when we talked at lunch. But I didn’t want to say anything and jinx it. I’ve worked with them before, and they’re not really as start-up friendly as they claim to be.”

“Yeah. They basically said come back once you’re up and running and have some sales history.”

“Would you…consider taking on a private-equity investor? It’s part of what we do here. Rothschild Investments is a wealth-management company. We offer typical money-management services, like managing stock-investment portfolios, but we also have a pool of investors who invest capital in exchange for a piece of a new or expanding company.”