Just Pretend (Just… #1)

41. James

CHAPTER 41

JAMES

I tighten my arm around Hallie’s waist, clenching my jaw, waiting to see what my father will do. I know maybe more than anyone that it's not in Rupert's nature to bring emotions into a business deal, but I can feel how Hallie’s words stirred something in the room. In that moment, I allow myself to hope that maybe, just this once, my father will act with his heart and not his bank account.

He looks into my eyes for a moment, his gaze unfeeling, and he lets out a slow breath.

“I knew this was a waste of my time,” Rupert grunts, shaking his head as he storms out the office door.

There is a thick silence that fills the room, and no one moves or says a word. Next to me, I feel Hallie stiffen in my arms and I know she’s shocked that my father walked out on us. Unfortunately, I’m not surprised at all. The surprising thing would be for my father to let the Evanses keep the camp while releasing me from our agreement. That would have been the real shock.

Trey stands up from his chair, ready to go after Rupert, but I hurry to block his path to the door.

“I’ll go,” I insist. “This is between us.”

Trey holds my gaze for a moment before nodding in agreement. As Hallie comes to my side again, slipping her arm around my waist, I see her flash Trey a quick smile and I remember how adamant my brother was that we all had to come here, in person, to sign the documents. I glance down at Hallie and then back at my brother, swallowing hard.

“Whatever part you played in this,” I say to Trey, “thank you.”

“You’re my brother,” he replies. “We might be on different paths, but I will always love you.”

My chest tightens and I have to blink back tears, nodding in appreciation. Turning to Hallie, I bend down and give her a lingering kiss, filled with relief after thinking I would never be able to do that again.

“We have a lot to discuss,” I say softly.

Hallie nods at me, glancing at the door. “Go talk to your father. I’m not going anywhere.”

My head is spinning as I rush out of the office, looking for my father. Hallie’s words are still sinking in, along with the realization of why she was so angry with me. It’s starting to make more sense why Hallie cut me off, and while we have a lot to talk about, I feel like there is hope for us. Maybe I haven’t lost her after all.

I expected to find my father sitting in the car, waiting for Trey and me so we can leave, but the Lexus is empty. Without knowing where else my father could be, I start searching the campgrounds blindly, peeking into cabins and checking the various buildings on the property. There’s an arts and crafts hut, the boat house, a teaching kitchen, even a classroom, not to mention a whole shed full of equipment for outdoor games and activities. I can see why this camp is so valuable for the campers who come here, and why Hallie was willing to go to such great lengths to save it.

I’m heading back up from the lake when I see a storage garage off to the side with the garage doors open in the back. I take the path around the building and find my father inside, holding the carved wooden leg to a table. Next to him, the three legged table is propped up on its side, leaning against the wall.

“Dad?” I ask softly, not wanting to sneak up on him.

Rupert runs his hand over the table leg once more, his fingertips dipping into the grooves of the carvings. When he looks up at me eventually, I silently brace myself for a verbal assault, assuming he’s going to go off on me for everything that happened back in Mark’s office. I know how angry he is, not just that I’m once again telling him I don’t want to work for his company, but that he made the trip for nothing, wasting his precious time and money

“I can’t believe Mark still has this old thing,” my father says, glancing over at the table.

I feel my eyebrows lift, but I try to keep a neutral expression as I step closer, giving the broken furniture a closer look.

“Wow,” I exhale, squatting down to see the empty spot where the leg should be. “This is extremely well made. It would be a shame to just throw something like this out. I’m sure it can be fixed. I can’t even imagine how the leg came off in the first place. The rest of the table is very sturdy.”

My father nods in agreement, bending down next to me.

“Somebody really had to jolt it hard,” he says. “I used mortise and tenons, not screws, and they were solidly attached to the apron to withstand movement.”

I can’t hide the shock on my face as I stare at my father, completely stunned by his words.

“Wait…you made this?” I gasp in disbelief.

“Yes,” Rupert nods, sighing softly. “A long time ago.”

He rotates the leg in his hand, inspecting the end and trying to fit it back in the socket on the table.

“I think it can be fixed without making a new leg,” he says confidently.

“I think you’re right,” I agree right away. I’m not sure if it’s actually possible, but something inside of me is aching to try.

There’s a workbench on the far side of the garage and we get to work on the table, finding wood glue and some metal brackets to hold the leg in place. As we work, my father keeps eyeing the rest of the table and I can see the pride on his face—different pride than closing a deal and making a ton of money. This is the pride of having made something beautiful with his own two hands, a pride I feel in my own work.

“It really is a beautiful table, Dad,” I tell him.

“It wouldn’t hurt to give it a new coat of varnish,” he shrugs.

“Maybe, though I’d say it looks pretty good for its age.”

My father laughs at this, nodding and smiling. “I mixed the varnish with mineral spirits. That’s the trick.”

“How did you know to do that?” I ask, once again stunned by my father.

“I used to do a lot of wood working when I was younger,” he says nonchalantly. “Before I got too busy.”

He holds my gaze for a split second and then turns back to the table, testing the leg to see if the glue has dried sufficiently.

“I think that ought to hold it,” he says.

“It looks good to me,” I agree. “Should we flip it over and see?”

Together, we grab hold of the tabletop and gently turn it over and set it down on all four legs. We slowly let go and step away, smiling with relief when it stands on its own.

“Just like new,” I say.

My father bobs his head a few times and then looks over at me, the smile still lingering on his face.

“You know, I forgot how much I enjoyed projects like this,” he admits. The smile suddenly fades, replaced by a pained look on his face. “It seems there’s a lot I’ve forgotten about who I used to be.”

Before I can question what he’s talking about, Rupert moves past me, walking out of the garage with his head down.

For a moment, I just stare down at the table, transfixed by it. Working on it with my father, fixing something that he clearly put so much time and effort into making, brought the two of us closer than we’ve been in many years. When I think back to the happiest moments with my dad as a child, it was always when he was teaching me something—how to hit a baseball or change a tire, lessons that can only be taught through the act of doing it together. Ever since I graduated college, the only things he taught me were how to negotiate a lower buying price or when to sell a property to take advantage of the market. Fixing the table leg felt like being with my father again, and not just my boss.

When I hurry out of the garage after him, Rupert is already disappearing into the main building. I’m sure he’s going to get Trey from Mark’s office so we go, but something inside of me wants to keep him here, to do what I can to make him remember what our relationship used to be like. I rush into the building, not sure what to say, but when I find him, he’s standing in the dining hall, staring at the photos on the wall.

I approach slowly, my eyes sweeping over dozens, maybe hundreds of old photos—pictures of campers throughout the years. They seem to have been put up chronologically with the most recent kids smiling back at us near the door, and then aging in reverse as we walk through the room together. The haircuts change, the clothing trends move backwards through the decades, but one thing that stays the same are the smiles on the kids’ faces.

We eventually reach the other end of the room, and I’m surprised when my father stops and leans in towards a particular photo, examining it carefully. I have to step closer to him to get a good look and I’m taken aback to see not more campers, but younger versions of my father and Mark looking back at me. In the photo, they’re standing side by side, Mark’s arm around my father’s shoulders as Dad holds up a contract. I glance over at my father, but he is transfixed by the photo, moved by it.

“I remember when we took this,” he says softly. “We were so young, and we had just signed our first deal.”

“You look…happy,” I tell him. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you look like that.”

“Well, that was a long time ago,” Dad replies, turning away from the photo.

Trey is standing in the hallway outside the dining hall waiting for us and my father walks past him, out towards the car.

“Let’s get going,” he says, getting into the Lexus and slamming the door shut.

Trey shoots me a questioning look before making his way around to the car, but I just shake my head, as confused as he is.

“I guess we’re back to square one,” I sigh.

“Maybe we can talk to him during the drive back home,” Trey suggests.

I stand next to the car, glancing at the building behind me, wanting to go find Hallie and work things out, but right now I know the priority has to be saving the camp for her family. In order to do that, I need to get through to my father, which means getting in the car and going back to San Francisco. If I can convince him to give the property to Mark, I can come back to Hallie with good news.

“Okay, let’s go,” I sigh, opening the car door and slipping inside.

“So, Dad,” I begin as Trey pulls down the long driveway. “About the land…”

“Did I ever tell you how Mark and I started the company?” my father asks as if he didn’t even hear me.

Trey glances up at me in the rearview mirror and I shrug, not knowing where Rupert is going with this.

“Um, no I don’t think so,” I reply.

“We were college roommates,” Dad explains as he looks out the window at the lake going by. “We had big dreams and no sense, so we never even considered that what we were doing might not work.”

My father lets out a laugh, shaking his head, his gaze still fixated on the lake.

“That picture back there? It was the day after we graduated from college,” he continues. “We almost missed commencement because the deal nearly fell apart in the eleventh hour, but we didn’t let it happen. We managed to get to graduation and land a deal bigger than we could have imagined. Everything just took off from there.”

I crane my neck to see into the front seat, but my father still has his head turned towards the window, lost in the memory. After a minute, he spins around in his seat towards me.

“Seems like things with you and Evans’s daughter fell apart in the eleventh hour.”

“I…” It feels like the air has been knocked out of me and I don’t know what to say.

“You love her, don’t you?” Dad asks, squinting at me.

“More than anything,” I reply after clearing my throat.

My father nods a few times and then faces forward in his seat without saying another word. I have no idea where he’s going with any of this, how my relationship with Hallie has anything to do with him and Mark, but it’s obvious my father is working something out in his head.

“Turn the car around,” Dad suddenly barks at Trey.

“Uh, what?” Trey asks, glancing over at him.

“We’re going back to the camp.”

“Dad, what are we doing?” I ask, leaning forward between the seats.

“Somehow I’ve forgotten this over the years,” Dad replies, “but you have to fight for what you love.”

“What are you saying?” I ask him, my heart hammering in my chest.

Dad turns again, his eyes piercing into mine.

“Go get Hallie. Work things out with her.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry about the deal,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “Mark and I can work out the rest. We didn’t just used to be partners. We were best friends.”