Chapter 20 #2
He sighed and said somewhat defeatedly, “So what you’re really saying is that you want to be part of the solution, not the problem.”
“Exactly!” I agreed excitedly. “And as you alluded to, I have enough of a financial cushion to take some time deciding how that will look. But whatever it turns out to be, it will be a huge turnaround from what the company is doing now. That’s confusing for clients, and so it’s simpler to let Phillip take control of T.G.
Inc., and I’ll start a new company if I need to.
I did it once. I can do it again. The industry knows me, and I have to believe my name means something there. ”
After another excruciating silence, Hank sighed. “Okay. Fine. I’ll have the contract on Phillip’s desk by this afternoon. What will you do if he doesn’t accept?”
I’d thought about that. “I’ll sell my share to someone else, or we’ll close the company altogether. I won’t be buying him out,” I said firmly. “The thought of that makes me feel sick. I’d rather have the proceeds from a sale to move on with, but I’ll cope without. It won’t change my mind.”
Hank grumbled his reluctant agreement, and we threw around some figures before deciding on a number Hank could live with.
That done, I hung up and left him to it.
Next on my mental list was to call my mother and tell her I’d be back Monday.
She bit back, angrily, telling me she didn’t care what I did since I clearly didn’t care about her feelings.
Oh boy.
She accused me of lying to her about where I was, simply to fob her off.
I could hardly disagree since she was right, by omission, at least. She was clearly spoiling for a fight, and I couldn’t really blame her.
I was acting well out of character, and I’d sidelined her during a crisis point in my life.
No surprise that she didn’t like it. The conversation we needed to have wasn’t going to be easy.
My offer to come visit as soon as I could helped take the wind out of her sails, and the call ended almost cordially.
It was an amicable state I knew wouldn’t last long once I told her of my plans to sell the company.
Just the thought sent a cold shiver up my spine, and I wondered if Ryder would consider coming with me for that—if he was still talking to me, that was.
Which brought me to my next dilemma. How to confess everything to Ryder without losing him altogether?
About the company, the software proposal, and the changes I was making because of what I’d learned about myself.
But most of all, about how much I really, really liked him.
And about how I wanted to see where this thing between us might go.
I slid my laptop to the side and scooped Ziggy into my arms, cradling him like a baby. “Got any advice for me, oh great one?”
Ziggy blinked and kicked his back legs until I started scratching his belly. A few seconds later, he was asleep. I snorted and pressed a kiss to his tiny nose. “Good talk. Thanks for nothing.”
Knowing that my confession needed to happen as soon as Ryder got home—before I chickened out and before this thing between us went any further—I spent the remainder of the day distracting myself with chores.
I did three loads of laundry, vacuumed, dusted, changed the bed linen, cleaned the bathrooms, fed the chickens while keeping Myrtle and Ziggy in their respective corners, and checked the ventilation system in the glasshouse. My mother would be proud.
When the rain clouds finally dissolved and the watery sun poked its head over the landscape, I briefly considered returning to the patch of garden Ryder and I had been working on over the weekend.
He’d set a fork in my hand and courageously let me loose under his watchful eye, educating me in the finer points of weeding and pruning.
He’d winced at my clumsiness and generously pretended it didn’t matter when I lopped the wrong branch off his cherry tree, leaving the poor thing with a very cheap haircut.
He’d stared speechlessly at it for a long moment, then dissolved into fits of laughter.
In the end, I decided against risking any more weeding.
My inevitable mistakes could tip the scales in Ryder’s opinion of my relative worth.
Instead, I decided to take one of Ryder’s landscaping books to the swimming hole and while away some time there.
If the evening didn’t go as well as I hoped, I wanted one last look at that special place.
Maybe the ghost dog might also show its face again.
I hadn’t seen it in a week. Then again, maybe I really was losing my mind.
I grabbed a towel and a book and headed out with Ziggy tagging along at my heels.
By three thirty, I was back in the cottage with my nerves starting to ramp up.
Ryder had indicated he’d be home around five thirty, so I decided to get dinner ready ahead of time .
. . just in case it all went to shit. By five, I’d overcooked the chicken cacciatore and was trying to salvage the green bean salad after boiling the poor things into an unappetising shade of grey.
My nails were bitten to the quick. I’d put my T-shirt on back to front after my shower.
And since I’d forgotten to put the beer in the fridge that morning, I’d been forced to throw four in the freezer.
I was carrying plates and cutlery to the table when I heard a vehicle pull in out front.
Ziggy immediately woke from his slumber and careered down the hall, barking his tiny little head off.
Since it was more of an alert than a welcome, I frowned at the clock.
Ten past five. It was a little early for Ryder, but it wouldn’t have been the first time.
I grabbed a tea towel and dried my hands. If it were Naomi or Will, both would need subtle redirection to leave. My conversation with Ryder was happening come hell or high water. The whole thing was doing my fucking head in.
At the sound of the doorbell, Naomi and Will zoomed to the top of the most likely list, and I headed down the hall, practising excuses in my head. At the front door, I nudged Ziggy aside with my foot, paused for a moment to calm myself, then opened the door.