Creating the Rules (eBook)

Ania Ray (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
484 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-1701-5 (ISBN)

Infos

She left Ferris, South Carolina thirty years ago-and never looked back. Now Anne Cromwell's carefully curated New York City life is unraveling, and the only way forward means returning to the past she's tried to forget. A first love who remembers everything. A daughter who's just discovered the truth. And a choice that could cost Anne the one thing she can't buy back: forgiveness.

Ania Ray is a mama, author, and CEO of Quill & Cup, a global community for women writers. She writes women's fiction where each protagonist must face the worst of herself before becoming the hero of her own story. When she's not working, she's hiking, chasing her toddler through new cities, or cooking for her loved ones. Follow her @theaniassey on Instagram and Facebook.

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An abandoned past. An uncertain future. And a dreaded return to the small town she rejected 30 years ago. Anne Cromwell is a fiercely independent wealthy widow and New York City socialite whose narcissistic tendencies get her what she wants but she can't control her relationship with her daughter, the stock market, or whether a gunman shows up in a 5k fundraiser in Central Park. As her carefully curated life falls apart, Anne's only option is to return to the South Carolina town she left in the throes of grief. In Ferris, she'll be out of the spotlight and can claim the trust money that would protect her lifestyle. All she has to do is co-chaperone a youth group camping trip with her first love, Louis, who knows exactly who Annie used to be and what made her leave Ferris in the first place. Anne has to put her rekindled romance to the side when old ties call her back to the city. Not only does Anne's best friend relapse, but her daughter found out Anne has been lying and she doesn't want anything to do with her. After lying to your daughter for a lifetime, what is enough to heal such a betrayal? Creating the Rules is a story of coming home and second chances. Full of heartache and hope, Anne Cromwell's story is for those who can't help but remember their past and believe love can be found in the ashes of loss. If you love stories that make you remember your first love, your hometown, and the people who raised you, you'll love Anne Cromwell's story - the third volume of the interconnected standalone trilogy, The Cromwell Rules. Maybe you'll find yourself remembering the man you used to love and the woman you used to be.

Textauszug

Be the Glamorous Socialite

Shutting the door behind me, I glanced around the Matsuda Mansion. Cars stopped long enough to drop off another Society lady, either moving on to run another errand or stopping just like Trevor would. Reorienting myself to the surrounding scene, I let myself forget about what might come and refocused on the task ahead: present my fundraising idea to the Society, have it approved, and continue my streak as the most reliably successful chairwoman of New York Society. If I could maintain the illusion of wealth, I’d have the peace to figure out how to fix everything—in private.

Thank God the Society meeting was being hosted by the Matsudas this time and not on my dime. I received an annual lump sum every year from our investments, but between the regular home expenses and paying for Lily’s wedding, there wasn’t enough left for me to pay for Christmas presents, let alone a Society gathering. I had wanted to send Lily and Logan on a proper honeymoon, but they refused. Lily swore it would be more fun to take a road trip than fly first class to Tahiti. I tried to reason with her: people of our stature did not go on road trips across America like settlers during the Dust Bowl.

I swear I raised her better.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” Meredith Matsuda sang as she opened the door. I’m fairly sure Meredith sang more than she spoke, like Ellie, one soprano of the Ferris Church Choir. I bit my lip, remembering those choir rehearsals from decades ago, and forced a smile toward the woman with brunette hair pulled into a slick bun. She’d gotten her gray roots covered up since the last time I’d seen her. I could forgive her this; she was almost a decade younger than I and should enjoy her “natural” hair color for as long as she could.

I stepped over the threshold of Matsuda Mansion. “You are as classy as they come, Meredith.”

“You are too kind, and look like a dream, as always.”

“Running works wonders.” You should try it sometime.

“May I?” Meredith gestured to my cardigan, one of my favorite pieces.

“Please do!” I stretched out my left arm so Meredith could also see how the rose gold accents of my watch complemented my sweater.

This confirmed I couldn’t let any of my staff go: Nina had specifically sent in this piece to the dry cleaner’s for today’s event. Selling the house would be preferable to being without the people who made it my home—and made stepping outside of it more bearable. I made a mental note to tell Frank that later.

Meredith leaned her head back as if touching the sweater had hit a pressure point of pure pleasure.

God, she was such a farce.

“Oh, my! Looking like a dream and feeling like one, too.”

“Age does come with some experience, darling.” I pulled my hand back and swept a loose hair behind my ear.

Meredith threw her head back and laughed way harder than the quip warranted. “Oh, Anne. You always know what to say.”

Rolling my eyes wouldn’t fit here, but I’m sure Lily would have—and I’d have rightfully scolded her for it.

I followed Meredith through their living room. The grand piano was so well polished that the paintings’ golden frames made the black coating glisten. I ran my fingertips over it, my heart squeezing, a whisper to myself that I’d finally sit down and play mine soon. Looking up, I saw Mr. Matsuda in his office, shuffling papers over his desk, an office phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. As he shut the door, we made eye contact. Frank was the Matsuda advisor, too…

Did they have enough money to host this society meeting?

We moved beyond the sliding glass doors that led into the courtyard. The tension eased out of my shoulders as we stepped from the hard concrete onto the softness of the grass. It’s like I always told Lily: being part of the right crowd matters. Lily thought it was “elitist”—“non-inclusive,” she said—but it’s like I keep trying to tell her: You have to find people with whom you have things in common; more than that, find people who have what you desire in your life, too.

I lowered my shoulders from my ears as I scanned the gathering building around me. Most importantly, I had taught Lily that we didn’t have to pretend to belong. We were already built of what made us belong. Learning how to conform to the New York life I hadn’t planned would have been much harder if I didn’t already have grit and determination and the willingness to leave where I didn’t belong anymore.

It’s why I left South Carolina. Well. It’s part of the reason I left.

There was nothing elitist about that.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be the best of the best. I had been for all these years—the society would officially celebrate my 10th year of service as chair this year—and I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else. This was the life I had worked for. This was the life I would protect—if only because Richard Cromwell’s legacy was on my shoulders. Also? This was my way of proving to my parents, even if they didn’t know it, that I was serving the community. In my way. In the way that New Yorkers did things. Without getting my hands dirty.

The flared material of Meredith’s Mediterranean blue pants lifted just so behind her as she walked, like butterfly wings that flutter as they rest, unsure whether their landing is safe. She didn’t need my help shopping, but I wasn’t about to disclose that. A large part of having the upper hand in any relationship is making sure the other person never feels like you fully approve of them; I learned that from my father well enough.

“Come, come, come!” Meredith sang, her butterfly wings ready to flee. “I’m so excited to hear about what your next big party idea will be. Same as always, I’m sure.” She laughed, but I could hear the song’s melody shift to a less gracious tone. I straightened my back.

“‘Same’ means you know what to expect. ‘Same’ is good.”

“If you say so,” she chirped. “Hopefully the rain will hold off,” she said, her lips bunching to one side. Sure enough, clouds were gathering in the distance, and humidity was settling itself for the afternoon. She was worried about the event going south, poor thing. Good thing I had experience.

I placed my fingertips on her arm. “There’s plenty of room for us to gather inside, just in case.”

The effect my words had on Meredith—her eyes glistening with something like gratitude—made me want to be kinder to her. My memory jumped to Aunt Jo, her welcoming smile sparking that same warmth in me.

Just thinking about Aunt Jo, however, caused any good feelings to fall through me like a sieve of her flour onto dough.

My stomach clenched. There’s no way she’d smile at me like that now. I’d hurt her, and the family, too much.

There was no going back, even if I wanted to. And I’d never want to.

But you might need to, a small voice in me asserted.

I batted away the thought like a gnat and stepped in line with Meredith. We made our way, shoulder to shoulder, towards the rest of the women.

“Oh!” Meredith said. “I almost forgot to thank you!”

I narrowed my eyes, but felt a smile pull up at the corners of my mouth. “For what, dear?”

“For being so willing to share the stage with Ashley and the younger girls. What an outstanding role model and chairwoman we have in you!”

I shut my smile behind taut lips. A current ran down my spine. Two things were potential truths: Meredith knew I hadn’t agreed to any such thing and was pushing for a different idea or—and ultimately worse—somebody had spoken for me. To find out, I had to play this carefully.

I tried to even my tone. “Oh, it’s no problem. Children are our future and all that.” I waved it off like the cliché it was.

I definitely didn’t believe that. The future was built on the decisions of those in charge, and those in charge should not be catering to those whose brains were still developing.

“Exactly. Lisa said the same. Justine was so impressed with the entire plan. She had asked me, ‘Anne would let the girls have a chance at proposing a new event idea?’ and I said, ‘Of course she would!’ and you should have seen her face when I said that.” Meredith was speaking so quickly she was almost stumbling over her words. She inhaled, putting her hand over her eyes like a visor, looking elsewhere.

I narrowed my eyes and balled my hand into a fist, my rounded nails digging into my palm. I’m sure it’s going to storm soon, Meredith, I wanted to say through gritted teeth.

“And Claire looked so grateful,” she finished, as if hoping that my best friend’s approval would matter.

It only made me clench my fist more. Who planted this seed? Today was supposed to be an easy meeting day: Present idea. Gain approval. Move on.

Not this.

“When did y’all become my mouthpiece?”

I hope it was the iron in my tone that brought her...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 30.9.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3178-1701-5 / 9798317817015