Chapter 5
Kendall
The red dress was a mistake.
I can see that now, standing in front of my bathroom mirror, trying to convince myself that Mrs. Patterson knows what she's talking about. It's not inappropriate—knee-length, professional neckline—but it's definitely... red. The kind of red that makes statements I'm not sure I want to make.
My phone buzzes on the counter.
Charli: On our way. Whole crew coming for moral support. You've got this!
Then another.
Unknown Number: Final warning. Resign tonight or things get worse.
My hands shake as I delete the message. I should show it to Jax. He's right across the hall, probably watching my door through his peephole like the overprotective guard dog he's pretending not to be.
But what's the point? After tonight, I won't be managing this property anymore. Valerie's made sure of that.
I grab my purse and the folder of documentation I've prepared—three years of performance reviews, budget reports, and resident satisfaction surveys. My record is spotless, except for today. One morning of goat-induced chaos shouldn't erase three years of excellence.
Shouldn't. But probably will.
I open my door to find Jax leaning against his doorframe, obviously waiting. He's changed into dark jeans and a button-down shirt that brings out the blue in his eyes. His gaze travels down the red dress and back up, and I watch him swallow hard.
"Mrs. Patterson was right," he says, voice slightly rough.
"About what?"
"Red makes men stupid."
The compliment catches me off guard, and I feel heat creeping up my neck. "I should change—"
"Don't." He straightens. "You look like you're ready to take on the world."
"I'm ready to lose my job in style, you mean."
"You're not going to lose your job."
"Have you met Valerie?"
"Have you met the rest of the board? Mr. Yamamoto thinks you walk on water. Mrs. Martinez credits you with doubling her property value. And Dr. Williams—"
"How do you know all that?"
He has the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "I may have made some calls."
"Jax—"
"They needed to know about the threats. The vandalism. Valerie's vendetta." He pulls out his phone. "Speaking of which, did you get any—"
"No," I lie, heading toward the elevator. "We should go. I don't want to be late."
He follows, and I can feel him watching me, cataloging tells he still remembers from when we were together. The way I bite my lip when I'm lying. How I fidget with my earrings when I'm nervous.
"Kendall—"
"Leave it alone, Jax."
The elevator ride is silent except for the mechanical hum. When the doors open to the parking garage, I head toward my car out of habit before remembering it's covered in paint.
"I'll drive," Jax says, steering me toward his truck.
We're halfway to the car when I see it—fresh red paint splattered across the windshield of Jax's truck. "STOP PROTECTING HER" drips down the glass.
"Son of a—" Jax pulls out his phone, already calling it in.
"We'll be late," I say.
"This is evidence. We need to document—"
"Jax, please." I touch his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. "The meeting starts in twenty minutes. If I'm late, Valerie wins by default."
He looks at the paint, then at me, clearly torn between procedure and my plea.
"Fine. But we're taking photos." He snaps pictures quickly, then uses his windshield washer fluid and some paper towels from his truck to clear enough space to see. "This isn't over."
The drive to the community center is tense. Every car that follows us for more than a block makes Jax check his mirrors. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
"You don't have to come in," I say as he pulls into the parking lot.
"Try to stop me."
The community center is packed. Way more packed than a normal board meeting. I spot Kate and Hudson near the front, Grace and Kane to the left, and—my stomach drops—what looks like half the town crammed into folding chairs.
"What is this?" I whisper.
"Backup," Hudson says, appearing at my elbow. "Nobody messes with our people."
"I don't need—"
"Yes, you do," Kate says firmly. "Valerie's been spreading rumors all day. Time to set the record straight."
The board sits at a long table at the front of the room. Five members, including Valerie, who's positioned herself dead center like she's already won. She's wearing a smug smile and has a stack of papers in front of her that probably contains every typo I've ever made in an email.
"Ms. Greene," Dr. Williams, the board president, calls out. "Please take a seat so we can begin."
There's a single chair positioned in front of the board like I'm on trial. I walk toward it, feeling every eye in the room on me. The red dress suddenly feels like armor instead of a mistake.
"Before we begin," Valerie says, not waiting for Dr. Williams to actually start the meeting, "I'd like to submit these documents into evidence."
"This isn't a trial, Valerie," Mr. Yamamoto says dryly.
"It might as well be. Ms. Greene has shown gross negligence in her duties. This morning's livestock incident was just the latest in a pattern of failures."
She distributes packets to the other board members. I catch glimpses of the contents—photos from this morning, complaint forms that look suspiciously similar to each other, and what appears to be a petition.
"Furthermore," Valerie continues, "I have forty-three signatures from residents demanding Ms. Greene's immediate termination."
"Out of three hundred units," Mrs. Martinez points out. "That's hardly a majority."
"It only takes one injured resident to sue us into bankruptcy," Valerie counters. "I, myself was assaulted—"
"You were knocked over by a goat," Dr. Williams says. "Hardly assault."
"That goat shouldn't have been in the building!"
"No, it shouldn't," I say, standing. "And I take full responsibility for not catching the situation sooner. Mrs. Parsons has been showing signs of confusion for weeks. I should have contacted her family earlier."
"So, you admit negligence—"
"I admit to being human. To trying to balance compassion for an elderly resident with enforcing rules. Mrs. Parsons is dealing with dementia. Her husband died eighteen months ago, but she doesn't remember. She got a goat because she's lonely and confused."
"That's not our problem," Valerie snaps.
"Isn't it?" Jax stands up from his seat in the front row. "As a community, don't we have some responsibility to look after vulnerable residents?"
"Officer Masterson, you're not a resident. You don't get to speak here."
"Actually," Dr. Williams says, "Officer Masterson is part of an active investigation regarding threats against Ms. Greene. I'd like to hear what he has to say."
Jax walks to the front, and I notice he's carrying a folder.
"This morning's incident, while unfortunate, was handled professionally by Ms. Greene.
She attempted to contain the situation while also showing compassion for a confused elderly resident.
More importantly, there have been multiple acts of vandalism and threats directed at Ms. Greene today. "
He opens the folder, pulling out photos of my paint-covered car, the threatening messages, and holds his phone up to show the damage to his vandalized truck.
"Wait," Mr. Yamamoto says, examining the photos. "Someone did this because of the goat?"
"Someone did this as part of a coordinated campaign to remove Ms. Greene from her position," Jax says, looking directly at Valerie.
"How dare you imply—"
The door to the community center bangs open. Mrs. Parsons walks in, looking lost and confused in her housecoat and slippers.
"Gertie?" she calls out. "Gertie, where are you?"
The room goes silent. Mrs. Parsons wanders down the aisle, clearly disoriented.
"Harold said she was here. My Gertie. Have you seen her?" She looks around the room with unfocused eyes, then spots me. "Oh, Kendall dear. You're wearing red. Harold loves me in red."
My heart breaks. I leave my chair and go to her, taking her arm gently. "Mrs. Parsons, let's get you home."
"But Gertie—"
"Gertie's safe. She's just taking a little vacation."
"Oh." Mrs. Parsons considers this. "Like when Harold went to Miami?"
"Exactly like that."
I lead her toward the door, but she stops, looking at the board.
"Are these your friends, dear? How nice." She focuses on Valerie. "Oh, you're the lady who doesn't like my roses. Harold says you're jealous because yours died."
Someone in the audience snickers.
"Mrs. Parsons," Valerie says coldly, "you need to leave. This is official business."
"Don't be rude to the elderly," Mrs. Martinez snaps. "Mrs. Parsons, would you like to sit down? We can call someone for you."
"My niece Sarah is coming," Mrs. Parsons says brightly. "Tomorrow, I think. Or was it yesterday?"
"I've been in contact with Sarah," I tell the board. "She's driving down from Jacksonville tonight. She had no idea her aunt's condition had deteriorated. She thought the assisted living community was checking on her."
"They were supposed to be," Dr. Williams says, frowning. "We have a contract with Sunset Services."
"A contract Valerie's husband owns a majority stake in," Jax says quietly.
The room goes very still.
"That's... that's irrelevant," Valerie stutters.
"Is it?" Jax pulls out more papers. "Sunset Services was supposed to check on Mrs. Parsons daily. They've been billing for it. But they haven't actually visited in six weeks. Around the same time Valerie started her campaign to remove Ms. Greene."
"You're suggesting—"
"I'm suggesting that Ms. Greene has been doing Sunset Services' job on top of her own, for free, out of compassion. And instead of thanking her, you're trying to fire her."
The murmur that runs through the crowd is decidedly hostile toward Valerie.
"None of this excuses the goat!" Valerie shouts, desperation creeping into her voice.
"No, but it explains it," Dr. Williams says. "Ms. Greene, how many times have you checked on Mrs. Parsons in the last month?"
I think back. "Daily, usually. Sometimes twice if she seemed particularly confused."
"And did you report the lack of services from Sunset?"
"I mentioned it to Valerie last month. She said she'd handle it."
All eyes turn to Valerie, whose face has gone pale.
"I... there must have been a miscommunication..."
"Seems like there's been a lot of that," Mr. Yamamoto observes. "These forty-three signatures—how many of them are from actual residents versus people who owe you favors?"
"How dare—"
"Because I recognize at least ten names of people who don't live in any of the properties Ms. Greene manages," Mrs. Martinez adds.
The crowd's murmur grows louder. I hear "fraud" and "setup" and various other unflattering descriptions of Valerie's character.
"Order!" Dr. Williams bangs his gavel. Who knew you needed a gavel to run a condo board? "Mrs. Thornfield, I think you should recuse yourself from this vote."
"You can't—"
"I can and I am. All in favor of tabling this discussion until we can investigate the situation with Sunset Services?"
Three hands rise immediately. Valerie sits frozen, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.
"Motion carried. Ms. Greene, you retain your position pending further review. Meeting adjourned."
The gavel comes down with finality.
William Thornfield sits in the back row, his expression unreadable.
While Valerie rages at the front, he watches with the detached interest of someone observing chess pieces.
When the vote goes against Valerie, I catch him smiling—not at her defeat, but at something else entirely.
He leaves before anyone else, already on his phone, his voice too low to hear but his tone unmistakably satisfied.
The room erupts. People surge forward to pat my back, offer support, voice their outrage about Valerie's scheme. Mrs. Parsons gets swept up in the crowd, looking delighted by all the attention.
"My Gertie is famous," she tells anyone who'll listen. "She's a therapy goat, you know."
Through the chaos, I find Jax watching me from across the room. He gives me a small smile and a nod, then makes his way through the crowd toward me.
Before he reaches me, Brad Hutchins appears at my elbow.
"This isn't over," he hisses. "You think you won? Valerie was going easy on you."
"Is that a threat, Mr. Hutchins?" Jax says, suddenly beside me.
Brad's eyes narrow. "It's a promise."
He storms out, pushing roughly past Hudson, who looks ready to follow him.
"Let him go," Jax says. "We've got what we need."
"What do you mean?"
He holds up his phone. "Recording app. He just confessed to conspiracy."
"You can't—that's not admissible—"
"No, but it's enough for a warrant to search his property. Want to bet we find red paint?"
I stare at him. "You planned this."
"I protected you. That's my job."
"Your job," I repeat, something deflating in my chest.
"Yeah, Kendall. My job." His voice drops. "And my privilege. And my choice. And if you'd stop fighting me for five minutes, maybe my chance to make things right."
Before I can respond, Charli appears with a bottle of champagne she's definitely not supposed to have in the community center.
"Victory celebration!" she announces. "Kate's place in twenty minutes!"
The crowd starts dispersing, everyone talking excitedly about the meeting's dramatic turn. Mrs. Parsons gets escorted home by Mrs. Martinez, who promises to stay with her until Sarah arrives.
Valerie slinks out without a word, her phone pressed to her ear, probably calling her lawyer.
And I stand in the middle of the emptying room in my red dress, not fired but not vindicated either, with threatening messages on my phone and paint on two cars and Jax looking at me like he wants to say something but won't.
"Come on," he says finally. "I'll drive you."
"The paint—"
"Can wait. You need to be somewhere safe."
Safe. As if anywhere feels safe now that Brad's escalating, Valerie's scheming, and Jax is living across the hall, making me remember things I've spent ten years trying to forget.
But I follow him to his paint-stained truck anyway, because despite everything, despite the years and the hurt and the careful distance I've maintained, when Jax says he'll keep me safe, I believe him.
And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.