13. Teeny
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Teeny
NOW
I’ve never taken growing up near the coast for granted. I know for some it’s a part of life to the point that it becomes routine. A quick commute through Pacific Coast Highway, an annual summer bonfire, the constant smell of salt air and squawking gulls. Not me. I’ve always stood in awe of it all.
With the long winding coast to my right and the San Diego hills to my left, I’m taking my time driving to El Cielo to meet Mr. Lang for a quick tour of his newly acquired property and to discuss whether or not I would be a good fit for his vision.
I pull into the parking lot of El Cielo, finding that it’s still considerably full given the change in ownership, and hook my leather tote bag over my shoulder before walking to the main entrance to the lobby. I wasn’t sure how formal this meeting was so I decided to play safe. A tan knee-length pencil skirt slit up the back and a white button-down blouse, low slingback heels and subtle touches of gold in my bracelets and earrings.
As soon as I reach the reception desk, I’m greeted by a man in his mid to early forties in a steel gray suit, no tie. “How can we help you?”
“I have a meeting with Mr. Lang,” I tell him. “I’m Christine Diaz.”
He smiles warmly at me, extending his hand in my direction. “I’m Eric. Nice to meet you.”
“Hi,” I respond cheerfully with a firm handshake in return.
He quickly turns to the woman manning the front desk, telling her something discreetly, before rounding the counter and meeting me. “Why don’t we have a seat at the bar?”
I nod and follow his pace. “This is a beautiful entryway,” I tell him, peering over me at the tall ceilings and abstract chandelier hanging above the main lobby.
He hums something that doesn’t sound like approval. “It’s a beautiful property,” he concedes. “The original architecture is what drew me into this place. A lot of the older homes nearby in San Diego follow a Victorian, Spanish colonial style, much like Old Town and the San Diego Mission. The property follows that almost to a tee.”
I nod along, finding the details he’s talking about in the sconces and arched entryways and the clay tile roof that was visible when I walked up to the multicolored fountain at the roundabout up front.
“There’s a lot of potential. Especially with the natural lighting and the view of the ocean. With the windows, it looks like the lobby is an extension of the beach.” I pause, and Eric follows my gaze as if looking at the space with a new set of eyes. “And I love how the infinity pool is elevated. I bet at certain angles, it’s like you’re in the ocean.”
“It is.” We reach a small table in the bar area, the furniture a little dull and outdated. Eric waves a hand at the bartender before we both sit. “I have a silent partner involved in the renovation and a grand reopening I’m slating for roughly January, maybe February.”
“So that’ll give you roughly five months or so?”
He nods. “Do you think that’s doable?”
“Oh, yes,” I answer assertively. “That’s plenty of time.”
“My partner will be joining us in a bit. I was thinking once he’s here, we could walk the grounds. There’s more than the lobby, and I’d like to see what you think.”
“Sure.”
Eric waves behind me before standing and buttoning his suit jacket. “He’s here now.”
I follow suit, straightening my skirt and pushing my chair under the table. As soon as I turn to greet this silent partner, my heart jumps into my throat.
“Mrs. Diaz, this is Everett Hayes.”
Everett stops mid-shrug into his navy blazer and peers up at me, a light smirk on his lips and those dark eyes dancing with amusement. “Mrs. Diaz.”
“Christine,” I answer sharply. “Christine is fine,” I say again, this time to Eric.
“Everett is in town from Seattle to help finalize some details to the property before heading back up in a couple of months. We’re hoping to have him back once our grand opening is set.”
I’m still reeling from Everett’s sudden appearance. Like a magician is playing some sick twisted trick on me, focusing on my haunted past and whipping Everett out from a wooden box or a shiny tablecloth. Everett who I thought I wouldn’t have to see until the wedding. Everett who I thought would be out of my life after my drunken debacle and the impromptu dessert run. But no. He’s standing in front of me as a potential client.
“I was just telling Christine we’ll go ahead and take a tour of the grounds and see if her vision for the space would be a good fit for us,” Eric continues, turning his attention toward Everett.
Everett responds with a concurring nod, his gaze still on me. Just then, we’re interrupted with the urgent steps of the same receptionist who was at Eric’s side when he greeted me. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Eric, we have a situation with one of the vendors, and they’d like to speak with you.”
Eric runs a flustered hand through his hair before he turns to me. “I’m so sorry, Christine. Would you give me a minute? I’ll be right back.”
“Sure—”
“I’ll show her.”
Everett’s deep voice, so level and calm, vibrates through me, sending my pulse racing and my palms clammy. “I—I really don’t mind waiting,” I argue frantically.
“I don’t want to keep you,” Eric answers. “Go ahead, and I’ll catch up with you two in a bit.”
Before I can protest again, Eric scurries off, leaving me and Everett alone. I exhale a controlled sigh, doing my best to keep my cool.
“Ready?” Everett asks with an innocent smirk, extending his hand in the opposite direction of where I came in from.
Unable to refuse his offer, I reluctantly follow Everett’s pace as he takes the lead. I keep a considerable amount of distance between us. I cross my arms, knowing I look unapproachable and aloof, though it’s because I don’t know how to navigate this. How to do this tour, trying to focus on my work and maintain the best professional etiquette, without losing my shit with Everett.
“This is the main ballroom,” Everett explains, pushing open the double doors leading into a large, empty space. It’s outdated. Curtains the color of mushed peas with old carpeting to match it, plain lighting that dulls everything rather than brightening it. It’s such a vast contrast to the beautiful scenery outlining the hotel grounds and the main lobby.
I remain quiet, taking in the room with a flutter of color swatches oscillating in my mind. Vibrant yellow and emeralds, deep purples and navy, with bursts of ideas interrupting my train of thought. “What do you think?” Everett asks after I’ve stayed quiet for too long.
“It has a lot of potential.”
“That’s code for horrible.”
I huff a laugh. “It’s not horrible,” I say. “It just needs some…love.”
Everett smiles at me, mirroring the one on my face that slipped after his little wisp of humor. “I think you could do something great with this place, Teeny.”
My face falls. “Did you do this?”
“What?”
“This.” I gesture my arms angrily around me. “This meeting with Eric. Is this your doing?”
He shakes his head, the smile that matched mine long gone and a look of earnest shadowing his features. “No.”
“Are you sure? Because this seems like too much to be just a little coincidence.”
“No, Teeny. I didn’t.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and ducks his head. “I didn’t even know that you’re a designer. Eric told me about a designer who was referred to him. Something Ellis? You did a restaurant or something?”
“Linguine Lane,” I tell him, remembering the entire gut we did of the space of what used to be an indoor trampoline park, stripping everything from windows to drywall to fixtures. It’s now an upscale Italian restaurant and gourmet grocery store. It’s done really well since opening last year, despite the silly name attached to it.
“But I didn’t know it was you.” His eyes soften into something that looks like pride and admiration. “You’ve done well for yourself, Teen.”
I start to fidget with my fingers, no longer having my arms crossed across my chest like a barricade. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“How have you done for yourself?”
“Good,” he answers. “Really good.”
My brow quirks, that nagging curiosity about Everett’s life poking at the hard ridges of my heart, wondering if he’s been okay. If he’s struggled or if he’s skated through life without a hitch. Or if he’s done nothing but think about me just as he’s never been too far in the depths of my mind. “Well, the hotel business has its perks. Especially in areas like this.”
“This is just something I’m investing my money in, and my time too, I guess. Eric and I, we go a long way back. I was actually with InnoDex up until a week ago.”
“InnoDex?”
Everett nods with pursed lips, almost like he’s withholding something from me. “Are you not familiar?”
“No,” I answer, a little flustered. “I am. I just…” InnoDex is the lead tech company rivaling HP and Dell. We use it in our home, in what used to be Leo’s office and in Sadie’s room on her white, neatly polished, Pottery Barn desk. I use InnoDex products for my CAD software. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to do my floor plans and layouts. It’s household name level. Of course, I’m familiar. “What, were you like, IT or something?”
“More like CTO.”
My hands involuntarily splay in front of me, as if moving around this imaginary well of information to sort it around so that I could somehow understand it. “You’re the Chief Technology Officer of InnoDex.”
“Was,” he corrects, scratching the side of his head with his index finger.
“Everett, that’s a huge deal.”
He shrugs, adding a small noncommittal hum.
“You just decided one day to quit?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
His face grows silent and dark, mulling over my question. “Personal reasons,” he finally says, sounding so mysterious and evasive, I’m not sure if I want to pry or just take his answer at face value.
“Wow,” I breathe. “So, you’re just a real ass grown up with a real corporate job.”
I expect him to laugh at my sarcasm, but he doesn’t. “I’m still me, Teeny.”
We stand there, our eyes locked on each other. The large space around us seems to expand wider and wider, bringing to light how alone we are here. How it’s just us two without a single soul in our hemisphere to intrude. Just like the moments we had when we were teenagers. When we encapsulated ourselves inside a protective bubble. And along the shadows that line his face, the curve of his nose and the struggle behind his eyes that was always there, even at seventeen, I see him. The Everett that he claims to still be. My Everett.
“Teeny…”
My eyes start to mist. I don’t even know why. Why these emotions are creating this torrent of hurt and nostalgia and longing. “I shouldn’t take this.”
Everett’s brow furrows.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I elaborate. “Working with you…I don’t think I can.”
“Teeny, don’t worry about me,” he tells me, a softness to his words that make me fold. Just a little bit. “I’ll stay out of your hair. But…I really think you could do something amazing with this place. I’ve seen your work, and?—”
“My work?” I ask, a little confused as to what other properties I’ve designed he’s seen.
He nods. “Your paintings.”
“Oh.” I haven’t talked about my paintings in so long. When I used to mention them to Leo, he’d respond with a placating smile and a “that’s nice” sentiment. I don’t think Sadie’s even seen my work, unless she’s taken a peek at them in my parents’ garage.
“Don’t turn this down because of me,” he adds, making a smile slip from my lips. “And I hear the budget for the remodel is pretty decent. Like, abnormally decent. So it would actually be a really bad career choice on your end if you turned it down.”
That gets a genuine laugh out of me.
The doors open with a loud boom, and I jump, the haziness of the room morphing back to reality.
“So,” Eric calls from the entrance, his voice echoing. “What do you think?” he asks, his question directed at me.
“I—”
“I was just telling Christine about the budget for this remodel,” Everett interrupts.
“Oh, yes,” Eric chimes in with a broad smile. “Everett has been a very involved silent investor. We’re very lucky to have him. And while he’s the one to cut the check for most of the renovation, the creative work will all be yours.”
I peer at Everett, his eyes downturned as if he’s pleading. When I look back at Eric, waiting for me to answer. “Why don’t you show me the rest.”