Chapter Eleven #3
She looked at him, searching for an answer, searching for why he’d do something like this.
To be honest, he wasn’t really quite sure himself. Only that he’d done it and he hadn’t cared when Indie sent him the bill.
Flora did look shocked and pleased. She couldn’t stop staring at them and was on the verge of passing out. He thought this was a good sign. He’d been worried she wouldn’t like them.
“I’ve always wanted pink diamond earrings ever since I was a girl. How did you know?” she asked, still shocked. She covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. “Oh my gosh, Finn… I was just looking at her website the other day. I feel like you…”
Her voice trailed off.
“I what?” he asked.
“I feel like you really… know me.”
Silence fell.
“Shouldn’t I?” he asked.
A slow smile spread across Flora’s face.
“Let me put them on!” she exclaimed.
She slipped the ring on—fit perfectly, thank goodness—and the earrings next. Finn held his phone camera up for her to see herself. She lit up seeing her own reflection.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, giggling now. “You are my official jewelry selector from now on.”
“Ah, Head Jeweler to the Queen.”
“Well, maybe not queen…” Flora said, grinning. “Thank you, Finn. I don’t know what else to say. This is one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me. It… it means a lot.”
Finn smiled at her, noting how nicely the pink played against her blue eyes. He’d picked them himself and with no help from anything but intuition.
It was quiet for a moment, the creek passing by, ferns springing from beneath redwoods, a slow and growing sense of peace between them. Plus, nothing was better than Mill Valley in the twilight.
“Finn, you look sad,” Flora remarked, eyeing him.
“I was—I don’t know why—but I was thinking about my rabbit.”
“Rabbit?” she asked blankly.
“Aragorn. My rabbit. I had him when I was a kid and never got to bury him… I don’t know why I’m thinking about him right now.”
He thought for a moment that Flora was going to tease him, but she merely furrowed her brow.
“That’s terrible! How old were you?”
“Seven? Six?”
“And you still remember it? Aragorn. I don’t remember you having a rabbit.”
“You were hardly alive then.”
“True…” she paused. “What sort of rabbit was he?”
“Holland something or other. I named him after Lord of the Rings, obviously.”
“A good name. I’m sorry you didn’t get to properly mourn him. You really were forced to grow up too fast,” she said, sympathetically. She slipped her hand in his now and leaned toward him. “I’m sure Aragorn understood.”
There was a silence.
Finn curled his hand around hers.
“He’s an animal. He hardly knew the difference. It was me who was depressed.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder and replied, “We should have a funeral.”
“For the rabbit? Twenty-two years later?”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s mad!”
“Everything’s mad,” she replied, her eyes fixed on the river.
Finn had no idea why he’d told her this—probably the most embarrassing thing to ever come out of his mouth—and yet it was said, it was over, and she didn’t mind.
Plus, the confession and the gift broke some invisible line between them. One they had not crossed. Maybe it was too far now but standing there with her, holding her hand, felt more right than anything he’d ever done in his life, and so he didn’t move one inch.
***
“I can’t believe you never take this thing out!”
The garage off Bennett Lake was clean but musty. Not many people went inside of it because there wasn’t much in it.
“I can’t drive stick.” Finn looked unimpressed with himself. “I never learned. I always drove the Defender, and never thought I’d be allowed to touch this car, but then Dad died, and now it’s mine. I haven’t once thought about it though. Haven’t ever had the time.”
The 1967 Shelby GT500 was covered up, untouched since the day of the funeral seven years ago.
Mr. Woodhouse had bought it for 1.3 million at an auction in Austin, Texas three years prior to his death.
He’d never meant to drive it regularly, only to have it as a vintage model, occasionally taking it out on Sundays after church, but he never got the chance to fix it up.
Finn pulled the cover off, coughing from the dust.
“Lovely,” he muttered, sneezing.
The Shelby was bright red with a black stripe down the side. The license plate read: AMILL10N.
Flora wanted to drive down Cascade, but she had no clue how to drive stick and figured the 1.3-million-dollar car sitting in the garage was not where to start. She didn’t want to pull a Ferris Bueller, which is where this entire thing had started after a late night 80’s movie binge.
“I need to learn but I can’t practice on this,” Finn said, extending his hand to the shiny car. “I need something less… expensive.”
They found themselves in the old gardener’s truck twenty minutes later.
Another car that sat on the property collecting dust, although a very different sort of dust. This car was driven only on occasion and was worse for wear.
However, the old truck was a stick shift, making it the perfect target practice.
“Alright,” Flora said, reading instructions from her phone. “First, press the clutch all the way to the floor, make sure the gear shifter is in neutral position then turn the ignition with the key…”
“Already confused, but okay,” Finn replied.
After a few more steps, which went smoothly, Flora told Finn to let his foot off the brake. Seconds later, the car began to shift backwards. They were on a slight hill, rolling toward Bennett Lake now.
“Brakes! Hit the brakes!” Flora shouted.
“I am! They’re not working!”
The car was gaining speed, and before long they were both screaming and looking backwards as they hit the lake with a thunderous splash. Water engulfed the car, and they began to sink.
“Abandon ship,” Flora said flatly.
They both exited the vehicle, climbing out their respective windows, covered in the mucky lake water. The car didn’t sink all the way but did get soggier than any car should. The only visible part of it was the grill, which was sticking out of the lake like a sunken ship.
The H.M.S Toyota. She went down without much of a fight.
They both stood there for a moment, soaked.
“So, stick shift,” Flora said, slowly. “Not our thing.”
“No… perhaps not.”
Finn, who was usually overly responsible, couldn’t believe he’d sunk an entire truck. He was tempted to freak out at this remarkable lapse of good judgment, but Flora giggled and suggested they call a tow truck. This obvious fix had not occurred to Finn.
The car was removed within a few hours and sent to be scrapped. It was useless anyway and taking up space.
Finn consoled himself that they’d just gotten rid of some garbage. However, everyone was amused that it was Finn who had been driving it, not Roman.
“Don’t get in my car,” Roman said that night at dinner, his eyes wide with mock fear.
“I do one dumb thing…” Finn mumbled.
***
“Finn, call for you on line two,” Gina said over the intercom.
“Who is it?” Finn asked from his desk.
“Holly Carlisle.”
Finn felt immediately conflicted but answered.
“He—”
“Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
A fair question. He’d been ignoring her for three days.
“Been too busy.”
“Three days with zero communication… some people would call that ghosting.”
“Well, most people are not the CEO of Woodhouse.”
“You know that’s not how this is supposed to work, right?” she asked flatly. “I’m your girlfriend. You’re supposed to answer me even if you are busy. You had three days. I wasn’t asking for a response in a minute.”
“Holly, I am under an extreme amount of stress with this merger and getting this wedding off the ground. I’ve barely answered anyone, except Tyson Brooks. And, by the way, I don’t recall asking you to be my girlfriend. That’s usually a mutual decision.”
“Well, not this time. I’ve unilaterally decided that we’re official. That’s what I was calling about. I have that photo of us at the beach from the Fourth and I was asking if I could post it, but you took too long.”
Finn felt his brow furrow, processing what she’d just said.
“What?”
“Finn, we’ve been hanging out for four months now and it’s clear that this is a business deal for you.
I get it. I’m not much of a romantic myself.
I’m not Jane Brooks-level necessary, but my family does have a better pedigree.
We’re in the British royal line and with it comes a lot of benefits.
What more could you want? But, if that’s not enough, my dad is friends with the prime minister and a whole lot of other politicians that, one day, you’ll need the help of.
Your tech is sliding into murky territory, and you know it.
You’ll need the help of politicians to get things through. ”
Finn was feeling blindsided and shocked but made sure not to sound it.
“Holly, that’s nice and all, but relationships are mutually agreed upon. Business or not. I need more time to decide what I’m going to do. You’ve proven yourself to be quite something these last few months. I’m not convinced we could make each other happy at all.”
“Finn, happiness is not the goal.”
“Holly, delete that photo now.”
“Finn, we could build something great,” she said, as if this was some sort of warning shot.
“I already have. Delete the photo, Holly.”
Holly heaved a dramatic sigh now.
“No.”
“Excuse me?” Finn asked flatly. “That wasn’t a question.”
“I didn’t think it was one and my answer remains the same. We’re dating, Finn, whether you like it not.”
“Again, that’s not how this works.”
“Actually, it does. You want to know why?”
“I’ll bite,” Finn said, rolling his eyes. “Tell me why.”
“See, I didn’t want it to come to this, but you’ve left me no choice. Finn, I know what’s going on. And I know exactly what game you’re playing at and how this merger is skating on cracking ice as it is.”
“Not from where I’m skating.”