Chapter 6
Chapter Six
ALICE
The calendar alert dings on my phone from the passenger seat. I growl in annoyance as I turn on my blinker and press a code to get into the gated community.
It’s been a long week. After coming home from Vegas, married to my best friend no less, I now have a family dinner to attend.
My presence was not requested. More like demanded.
It’s one of the only ways to get me to come. To say I don’t get along with my family is an understatement. It’s always been this way.
My great-great-grandfather made his money during the gold rush in Colorado. We’ve had money ever since. I grew up with it, but hated the expectations placed on me. I never conformed to what my parents wanted.
Fancy parties with pretty dresses? I’d rather be playing outside in the dirt.
Pulling up to the ostentatious house, I, once again, press a code into the gate keypad to be let in.
The lawn around the half-circle drive is manicured to perfection. Not an inch of grass is out of place. Planters filled with pink Cosmos line the drive. Not the flowers I told them to plant. My mother said the gardener has a better grasp of what grows well in this climate.
Every time I see the pink blooms, I’m annoyed.
Parking my old car in front of the house, I grab the bouquet of flowers off the passenger seat and head inside.
Yellow chrysanthemums. It’s the most passive-aggressive bouquet to bring to my family. Not only does my mother not like them because “they’re cheap,” but they signify sorrow and neglectfulness. Things I’ve always felt in this house.
Ringing the doorbell, I wait for them to answer.
“Alice. So happy that you could join us.” Mom waves me inside, giving me an air kiss on each cheek. “How have you been?”
“Good. And you?”
Within seconds, the conversation is stilted. It’s always been like this. I pass over the wrapped bouquet and receive a half smile.
“How kind of you. We’re both doing just fine. Your father and I are having drinks in the lounge.”
My heeled sandals slap against the herringbone-patterned wood floors. The two-story entryway is plated in gold with velvet wallpaper stuck to every surface.
It’s gaudy and horrible. The lounge is even worse. Stiff sofas sit next to the empty fireplace. Built-in shelves, complete with an entire bar’s worth of liquor, stand on both sides.
My father, still in a suit, is sitting in a black leather wing-backed chair overlooking the backyard.
“Alice.” Dad gives me a clipped nod. “How is Declan?”
“Good. Happy to be back in Denver and to have won the championship.”
I’m fine too; thanks for asking.
“Would you like a drink, Alice?” Mom asks.
Compared to her sweater set and pearls, I feel casual in my white blouse and plain black skirt. The tight collar itches around my neck, but I don’t do anything to show my weakness. My mother will leap on it in a heartbeat if she catches wind of it.
“White wine, please.”
Taking a seat on the red sofa, I cross my ankles and wait for my drink. Tension creeps into my shoulders at sitting in silence. I hate it.
Handing me the glass, she doesn’t miss the opportunity to point out my posture. “You really need to sit up straight, dear.”
“Yes, Mother.”
I don’t know how I’m not because my spine is a steel rod made entirely of the tension I feel toward these two. Dad walks back to his desk as my mom sits on the couch opposite me. The Persian rug might as well be an ocean between the two of us.
I take demure sips of my wine. Sloshing it back too quickly will earn me another scolding.
The room is quiet. The old grandfather clock ticks away in the corner.
“Must you tap your glass?” Mom sounds exasperated.
“Oh, sorry.” I don’t even realize I’m doing it.
“Don’t be sorry. Don’t do it,” Dad tells me, standing and walking over to where we’re sitting. “We called you over tonight to discuss a few things with you.”
“Okay.”
Nerves flutter in my belly. What in the world could they have to discuss with me? Aside from monthly dinners and a phone call from my father’s secretary to set them up, that’s about as much contact as I have with them.
It’s for the best, really. I avoid this place at all costs.
“It’s about your trust.”
“My trust?” My heart falls. That’s the only reason I’m still coming to our dinners. “What about it?”
“If you’d let me finish, I would tell you,” my dad chides.
“Sorry.” I take a cool sip of my wine.
“The lawyer was reviewing the stipulations since you are going to be coming into the money in a few months.”
Eleven months and ten days to be exact. But who’s counting?
“Right.”
“What we weren’t aware of is a marriage clause.”
“Come again?” My mouth goes dry at their words. I couldn’t possibly have heard them right.
“A requirement of the trust is for you to be married. In order to receive the payout, you will need to be married by your birthday next year.”
“But why? Why didn’t we know this before now?”
Dad scoffs. “I do not pretend to know why my father made the decisions that he did.”
More like he wanted me to find a nice man, settle down, and become a copy-and-paste version of my mother.
That will never be me.
“And if I’m not married by then?”
My mother rolls her eyes. “It’s really not that hard to understand, Alice. If you’re not married, you won’t receive the payout.”
A lead weight settles in my gut. Ever since I learned about the trust when I turned twenty-one, it’s all I’ve been wishing for. I can’t stomach the idea that I won’t get it because of a marriage clause.
My dream has always been to own my own flower shop. Ever since I went with my mom to one when I was little while she was planning a gala for my father’s office.
The colorful blooms. The paper-wrapped bouquets. The smells. I loved everything about it.
But owning a flower shop was not in the plans for my father. Jeffrey Burke’s daughter would never do something so menial. His words, not mine.
The only acceptable job for me was to follow in his footsteps and take over the investment firm.
It’s why my relationship with my parents has always been strained. I never lived up to their version of the perfect daughter.
Asking these two for money to open my own store? I’d be sent away with a stern look and told to never come back.
I’ve scrimped and saved over the years, but it was always to supplement what I would get with my trust.
It’s so close, I can taste it.
My thirtieth birthday.
“Okay then.” I gulp down the rest of my wine. It earns me a sidelong look from my mother.
But I don’t care.
Because now that there’s this added complication of having to be married, my head is spinning.
Married? If they had told me this a week ago, I would have curled up in the fetal position on the floor.
Now? Well, now, I might be able to overcome this little problem.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Mom asks.
“What else is there to say? Grandfather has some archaic idea that in order for me to inherit the money I’m promised, I have to be married.”
“Alice, we’ve entertained your chosen…profession long enough,” Dad snaps.
“If you come work for me, you won’t have to worry about getting married to inherit your trust. Money won’t be an issue.
What you make now is a drop in the bucket compared to what you would make working for me. Or even your trust.”
“That’s not what I want,” I tell them, issuing a startling calm into my voice. Setting my empty wine glass on the end table, I stand. Just being in this house turns me into a moody teenager. I want to shout and rage and yell at them.
Why can’t they accept me for me?
“You’re not dating anyone, Alice. You can’t conjure up a husband out of thin air. Why not work for your father and not have to worry about the trust at all?”
Of course my mother is on his side. She would never go against him. And what my father really wants? To control me by making sure I work for him because I don’t have a husband to fulfill this silly clause.
Joke’s on them since I have a husband.
“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m married and this whole ‘marriage stipulation’ won’t be a problem.”
I ignore their shouts as I storm out of the house. I hate how they make me feel so small. Like my dreams aren’t good enough for them. That I’m not good enough to be a Burke. So sue me, but I don’t want to go into finance and make millions of dollars.
It was never what I wanted.
What I do want?
To own Enchanted Petals. And to do that, I’m somehow going to need to convince my best friend to stay married to me.