Chapter Six #2
The thing is, seven days ago in my office, she set the tone. Logically, I know anything we shared was in the past. The problem is that there’s also a stubborn part of me holding tight to something that felt so real.
“Honestly…no clue,” I say. I don’t know this Ebony. “I think I’m just going to play it by ear. Observe. See how she acts. Take my cues from her, and be professional. Live.”
Dom’s face is twisted into an emotional, pleading mess as he comes in for a bro hug with Josiah and me. “See, exactly. What we need is to take a guys’ trip—”
We both duck out of his grip, in stitches.
“Get your friend.” Josiah pokes the ball, freeing it from my arm, and shooting it toward the hoop. The ball soars through the air, descending with an audible swoosh. “ All net!”
“Mm-hmm.” I laugh. “When no one’s guarding you.”
Dom’s undeterred in his mission to deliver us to the Temple of Doom, though. “Linc, when was the last time you used your money to travel, enjoy life, or buy some shoes that aren’t beat-down work boots or dusty Dunks?”
Bunch of comedians tonight.
Josiah dribbles back over to us, steady bouncing with a huge smile on his face as he eyes me. “Your boy’s not all wrong…”
“Meaning?” I prompt him.
“That it might also be time for you to stop holding your coins so close to your chest.” Josiah’s shoulders are up to his ears. “I’m saying, money-wise, you didn’t need to take the job—”
I gasp. “Seriously?”
“ But …I also know how important Madison Manor is to your family. So, yes, set your mind on finishing the restoration. Hire a backup team to expedite the job, if need be. Establish firm boundaries with Ebony. The less of her you see, the better.”
I shift my attention to Dom, whose smirk is conceding Siah’s point. “At least until the job is done,” he echoes.
I nod a few times.
“So far, the communication has been minimal—texts, emails, plus we’re using that new Mod3D app.
Honestly, it’s amazing.” I pause, reading Dom’s lopsided posture and how his mouth is open.
“To answer your question, I haven’t seen her since we met at the office last Wednesday, but I’m sensing there’s more you haven’t said yet? ”
He chuckles. “You sensed correctly. When are you scheduled to see her again?”
I lean over my duffel sitting on the bench, pull out my phone, and bring up the shared calendar Ebony created.
“Looks like…” I keep scrolling. “Next week. Thursday, June twelfth, we’re meeting with Cornelia and Hailey Winston at Madison.”
Josiah tips his head to either side, weighing what I don’t know.
“Not ideal,” he says, tentatively. “But at least you won’t be alone with her. What about the three of us head out this weekend? A short flight or road trip could be great to get you ready, mentally…”
Yeah, physically is another story.
For a beat, I observe my two friends, unwilling to commit just yet.
“I’ll think about it, but, uh…was I right about Jade?” I reach for the ball, but he strong-arms me, holding it out of reach. “Did she finally kick your sorry butt to the curb?”
Josiah bounces the ball off me, laughing as he dribbles to the hoop. He dunks on me, hanging from the rim like he’s Shaq in the Magic days about to tear down the backboard. “You can’t see me!”
“I think everyone in a fifteen-mile radius can see and hear your loud ass.” Dom laughs.
When Shaq 2.0 finally comes down, he’s cheesing like a fool. “So, yeah, I might be kicking myself to the curb. Jade’s hinting around for a ring, and—”
“ Ohhhhh ,” Dom and I say at the same time.
Twenty minutes later, I’m home, drained, and struggling to find energy to hit the shower when my phone pings from the entry table. The moment I see the name lighting up the screen, I drag myself to the couch and plop down, bracing for battle.
Ebony
Hey, when you get a chance, do me a favor and check your Mod3D messages. I reviewed the updated specifications with planned structural changes, and I sent a few requests for your consideration. Thanks.
For a moment, I stare at the message, reading and rereading, trying to decide what feels off.
Each time, something else jumps out at me, before I realize it’s because the tone is different.
Nice. Every other text and email she’s sent has been extremely formal.
Good morning, Mr. Bridges. Best regards.
Suddenly we’re on a “hey” basis? She wants me to do her a favor? For my consideration? Thanks, and not, thank you?
Oh, this ought to be interesting.
I feel the crease between my eyebrows deepening as I swipe over to the app, fueled purely by curiosity.
After a few minutes spent searching for messages within the app, I finally discover a tiny red dot under the ACCOUNT tab.
When I tap it, a thread of five lengthy responses from Ebony Grace Events appears.
Tentatively, I open the first one, and not even a full paragraph down, my focus snags on …
while beautiful, the layout isn’t really practical for modern weddings.
“Oh, because all centuries-old buildings should be gutted to accommodate a wedding guest list of people invited to stroke the mother of the groom’s ego. Right.”
I chuckle, continuing down the page to get a sense of the scale for the changes she’s requesting.
And that’s when my blood starts to boil.
“The hallways are too narrow?” I’m shaking my head, amazed by this woman’s audacity.
Cornelia already shaved the deadline, and I’m not about to cut corners.
Ebony knows nothing about preserving historical integrity.
All she cares about are aesthetics and modern amenities.
It’s not just the halls, either. According to Ebony Grace Events, the bathrooms are outdated, and the outlets are poorly placed.
She wants more lighting, climate control, and a full audio/visual system.
My head spins.
And frankly, I’m too damn hot to respond in the app. Toggling back to messages, rapid-fire, I tap out a text.
Lincoln
Lots of great suggestions, thank you. However, given the shortened timeline and the scale of the preservation, I think it’s important that we avoid compromising the building’s original character and charm. The history is what will attract clients, and we wouldn’t want to jeopardize that.
“Shoot.” I’m fuming. “ Telling me how to do my job …”
Almost immediately, the phone pings again.
Ebony
Of course not, but air conditioning and efficient electrical systems shouldn’t affect the vintage appeal of Madison Manor.
Contrary to what she and Cornelia think, Madison Manor isn’t just a wedding venue. It’s got character and story. And yes, space and functionality are important, but I’m going to need her to realize the crown molding and stained-glass windows aren’t just decoration.
Lincoln
Correct. That’s why heating, cooling, electrical, and plumbing have already been approved. Have a nice night.
PING!
“Jesus, woman. Let it go. You’re not going to win this one.”
Ebony
The bathrooms are too small for the anticipated number of guests. Do you really expect us to bring in porta potties to accommodate everyone? Is that the image you want to portray at the manor’s first event back?
Lincoln
Listen, we can’t just gut the bathrooms, Ebony. We’re preserving a building that’ll serve more than just weddings.
Ebony
Why can’t you compromise? Isn’t there something we can do to keep the historical aesthetic intact while also allowing for modern amenities? Do you really think Cornelia isn’t going to have a conniption if you don’t try to make this work?
“There it is!” I push to my feet, fuming. “So, if you can’t get your way, you resort to tattle-telling?”
For all of five seconds, I pace my living room before I respond…with necessary force.
Lincoln
Believe it or not, I’m not going to just flush the historical value of Madison Manor down the toilet because a Livingston decided to get married.
Ebony
Wow!
Lincoln
How about you let me take care of the restoration, and you handle the wedding planning? I’ve got a job to do. Is that going to be a problem for you?
The rest of the night, I check my messages again and again. I take a shower, eat, and turn down the bed, but Ebony still hasn’t replied. She’s left my message on read, and I should feel good—I made my point. I won. But as I lie in bed, I can’t shake this uncertainty.
What did I really win, and at what cost?