34. Keaton Double Zero
Waking up in Harris’s apartment is startling. For the first time in weeks, I am not in 1976 when I open my eyes. His home is so beautiful that it should be in Architectural Digest. Yes, it is a little cold. But it is the perfect Manhattan bachelor pad for a young(ish) executive. I click a button on the nightstand, and the shades roll up, revealing a sliver of sunlight and a beautiful city view. I push the weighted blanket, impossibly soft duvet, and gazillion-thread-count sheets off and sink my feet into the fluffy rug that overlays the dark hardwood. I could get used to living here, I think as I turn the handle of the glass-enclosed shower that somehow never has a single water stain.
How long is too long for a grown woman to live with her brother?I wonder as I melt into the hottest, steamiest shower with the most perfect water pressure. I complained the night before that Harris’s leaving for the gym at five was going to wake me up. I was wrong. Here in heaven, the walls are so well insulated that you can’t hear anyone else around you. I should have known. Harris took Salt with him to work, which made me nervous, but he’s promised to return him in perfect condition and reward his service with chicken. He’s trying to repair the reputation of an actress who’s under scrutiny for some questionable comments she made about her costar in a new film, and he thinks having a fluffy, cute puppy will help soften her image.
As I inhale the steam, I almost don’t want to leave New York. I don’t want to go back and face Bowen—who hasn’t even called me to apologize, so that’s a pretty clear sign of how he feels about me. But I have promised my uncle and my mother that I will finish the job I started. Mom says she only wants to stay in Beaufort a night or two, so after she and Lon pick any pieces they want to take, I have the Salvation Army coming for the furniture no one else wants, and have procured a storage unit for all the sentimental or valuable items I know we’ll want to save. My ladies, who I called when I learned Mom was coming, have promised to help me. Harris has promised to be a Bowen buffer. And then I can finally complete my checklists. If we really focus, I think we should be able to have the house cleared out and on the market in a week or so.
If the house doesn’t sell in a month (which is short by usual standards, but long considering this hot market) we will renovate. But I’m hoping that, cleaned and emptied, a buyer with vision and deep pockets will scoop it up. It makes me sad to think that my only physical connection to my grandparents—and many generations of my family before that—will soon be gone.
Thinking of leaving Beaufort causes a wave of sadness to wash over me. I scold myself for the tears that combine with the warm water of the shower, thinking of never again visiting the Dockhouse Dames. Anderson. Bowen. Really, I’m crying for all of it. The life that could have been mine. I tell myself it will be good to get back here. I have a plan to enact today and, if it goes my way, I think I’ll feel more secure in my choice.
I get out of the shower, wrap myself in a thick towel, and text Harris. You’ll meet me here at 11 or at the airport?
The plan is for him to meet me here, but—as I told him last night—I want a minute to gather myself before Mom gets to the house, and we could be cutting it close if we hit traffic. Mom will be in Beaufort at four, and Arlene, Betty, Violet, and Suzanne will be there for emotional support, and this is my subtle way of reminding him that I think I’m right without being overly annoying.
I will meet you there and we won’t be late. Quit nagging me.
At 7:50, I have drunk one of the fresh-pressed juices Harris has delivered weekly, eaten some sort of homemade granola that is supposedly gluten- and refined-sugar-free but tastes like the best dessert I’ve ever had, and my suitcase is sitting by Harris’s door so that I am ready to run out when he arrives later.
I text him: When I stay with you, will the meal plan cost extra?
Meal plan is double.
Double of zero is still zero, so right in my budget.
I was planning on calling my realtor friend, Stephanie, last night to go apartment hunting, but first things first. I’m going to need a paycheck again before I commit to a place to live.
I’m a little bit nervous as I hail a cab. All Welcome is only ten blocks away, but I don’t want to mess up my freshly fixed hair or get that sweaty street smell that is pretty common in the summer. Although, if this cab smell sticks to me, I think to myself as I slide inside, that could potentially be worse. I momentarily have the horrifying thought that Allison could turn me away. But, no. She came all the way to Beaufort to ask me to come back. My visit will be a surprise but not a shock.
When the cab stops in front of the All Welcome building, I step out into the steamy morning, savoring the hustle and bustle of the city all around me. I tell myself that I’m going to love being back in the place that has been my home for more than a decade. Beaufort could have been home, but it wasn’t meant to be.
I sigh, put on my game face, and walk into the glass-and-chrome skyscraper. Eddie, the security guard, who’s sitting behind the front desk in his uniform, raises his eyebrows when he sees me.
“What kind of welcome back is that for the woman who brought you your favorite latte twice a week?”
He stands up. “Welcome back?” he asks.
I shrug. “Well, not officially. I’m here to talk to Allison, but she’ll be happy to see me.”
“Uh-huh,” he says warily.
I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Eddie, this is cold. After all we’ve been through?”
“I’m just going to have to call up to her office. You understand. Policy.”
As he dials, he motions to me, and I’m a little incensed even though I know he needs my ID. I hand him my license as he puts the phone down and smiles. “Go on up.”
I give him a smug smile and walk through the silver turnstile. In some ways, it’s like I’ve never left. Except, of course, I wouldn’t have been a tenth this nervous on a usual workday. As I ride up, I consider that Allison said she’d give me anything I wanted. But she couldn’t possibly have imagined what I’m going to ask for. The elevator doors open and as I walk through them, I run right smack into… Jonathan. Who else?
“Keaton!” he says, obviously shocked to see me. He lunges at me and wraps me in a hug, his whole upper body going half-limp, in what I realize instantly is a reflexive action of pure relief. I laugh as he pulls away awkwardly, saying, “Oh, uh. Sorry. I think I’m just really glad to see you.”
I nod and pat his shoulder. I can’t quite tell him it’s good to see him too. But there’s something nice about seeing a familiar face. And being surrounded by the scent of geranium essential oils and the softest, loveliest lighting ever to appear in an office setting.
“I know I texted you,” Jonathan says, “but I want you to know that I really am sorry. I acted badly, and I’m ashamed.”
I nod. “I know. All is forgiven.” I’m shocked to realize that I mean it. Then I spot Allison bustling down the hall in a sleeveless white-and-yellow print dress that makes her look like a pregnant fertility goddess. She squeals and runs over to embrace me, kissing both my cheeks rapturously.
“You’re back!” She gives me a once-over. “You look great. Rested.”
I laugh. “Well, yeah. Unemployment will do that to a person.”
She slips her arm through mine, not even acknowledging Jonathan’s presence. “Want to see your new office?”
Now I really do have butterflies. A new office sounds promising. But, no. I have conditions. “Actually, can we go to your office and talk first? I want to be really clear on what we’re doing here.”
She eyes me but walks toward her office. She opens the door and lets me in first. I sit down across from her desk, admiring the view from her floor-to-ceiling windows.
“This is your new view too!” she says, smiling.
“It’s magnificent,” I say.
“I just want you to know how much I value you, Keaton. I know how instrumental you have been in turning a person—well, me, obviously—into a brand. I wouldn’t be here without you,” Allison says. I smile because it’s like she’s reading my mind. “I’m so glad you’re here. And I hope I haven’t made things harder for you, but when you really want something you have to fight for it, you know?”
It’s like an alarm starts ringing in my head. When you really want something, you have to fight for it. I instantly think of Kerry, her hand on Bowen’s cheek. Was I right to walk away? To have given up on Beaufort so quickly? Should I have fought harder?
I think of Becks. What would have happened if she hadn’t fought for Townsend? If she had let him walk away for good, taken the easier path? And what if Townsend hadn’t forged ahead and decided to live in Beaufort—the place that became his home, even though it wasn’t the most obvious choice?
“Sure,” I say, my mind reeling with new uncertainty. “And I appreciate that. We’ve fought a lot of fights together, and I think we can continue to do so.”
She nods. “So, lay it on me, Keaton. You know what I’m offering. What else do you need from me?”
I’m trying to stay focused, but all I can think about is the way I feel being in Beaufort. Bowen was a part of that, sure. But it was bigger than that. And I’m not sure I’m ready to walk away.
I see Allison noticing my distraction, so I clear my throat and say, “I can’t sign more than a one-year contract, but I’d like the option of a second year.”
She nods. “Totally understandable.”
“And if I leave after that first year, I will give you notice and train my replacement.”
She smiles. “I will try to make this job so good that you could never walk away, but okay.”
This is when it hits me: I walked away from Bowen. Things got a tiny bit convoluted, and I bolted. Just like Kerry. It was the absolute wrong thing to do. He might not even consider taking me back after that. But I have to try. I need to get back to Beaufort, back to Bowen. I need to apologize; I need to fight for him. I am prepared to lose, but as it stands now, I’ve lost anyway. What’s the harm in really laying my cards out on the table?
“Keaton?”
I snap back to Allison. “Right. Sorry.”
And then I’m met with sudden clarity. I realize I would rather go back to Beaufort, start something new—something all my own, something that honors the past that could redefine my future—than stay here. And, yes, I think I’d like to talk things through with Bowen before throwing this relationship away. That said, I need a job.
So, with a new plan suddenly forming, I say, “I know I need to be in the office some. But, if we can work it out, I’d like to be mostly remote, at least for the first year.”
She nods and stands. I stand too. I smile. Maybe I’m giving up a tiny piece of my self-respect by coming back here. But I’m getting some things I really want too.
“Going back to Beaufort?” she asks.
“I think I am.”
She raises her eyebrows. “How’s hot neighbor?”
I just shrug, and she laughs. “Well, I have so much to debrief you on. Growing with Grace was a huge success thanks to you, and I decided to push the launch of our next title to the fall, hoping and praying that you would come back to work your magic again and—”
“Allison?” I cut her off.
“Yeah.”
“Speaking of our forthcoming titles… I need one more thing from you.” This part of the plan hasn’t changed.
As I tell her what I’ve been thinking, about this desire I have to preserve my grandmother’s way of life, her eyes go wide. “Keaton, I don’t know… Are you sure?”
I nod. “Yeah. I think I’m sure.”
She shakes her head, and I think she’s going to say no. But then she puts out her hand. “We have a deal. I’ll have a contract sent your way by next week.”
And that, I think, is how you negotiate. Uncle Lon would be so proud.