Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Rachel
Last night, she’d spent a tormented night alone in the trailer, wondering how to get out of this mess, her stomach in her throat and her heart dislodged.
Every possible way out was impossible.
Tell Kell about Markstone's’ plans? If she did that, she could be in serious legal trouble with her company. That wouldn’t be the worst of it, though.
She would be ruined.
Her name would be on every corporate do-not-hire list. She would be known as someone who threw a deal for personal reasons, and that was the kiss of death in her line of work. Disclosing her company’s plan would put her in a deep professional crater she would never, ever climb out of.
And she could be sued into oblivion.
Keep her mouth shut and hope Lucinda wouldn’t sell? That was leaving everything to chance–too risky, and she hated uncertainty.
Torpedo the deal and get fired? This seemed the easiest path. Kell had prematurely turned Lucinda and Boyce against signing with Markstone's. All Rachel had to do was be less enthusiastic and subtly point out all the smaller flaws in the existing offer, without mentioning the additional land deals.
Run away? She was seriously considering that one. How hard was it to join a convent these days? Or she could go on a three-year Buddhist meditation retreat, like the high school homecoming queen from her school recently did.
Living alone for three years in a garden shed and never speaking was starting to look appealing.
And, really, none of those worked. Each option led to someone either having their heart broken or their life destroyed.
Or three years with bad coffee and no wine.
She hated double binds. Triple binds.
Lose-lose situations.
Her father always said that if you find yourself in a lose-lose situation, it’s because you’re a loser.
Rachel didn’t much appreciate her dad’s business advice these days.
An entire night had gotten her nowhere in figuring out what to do. She was falling deeper and deeper for Kell at the same time that she was deceiving him.
“Sick, Rachel. This is sick, and it has to stop,” she murmured as she answered yet another email from her trailer. Her excuse to get out of seeing Kell had been fabricated, but at least the internet had worked all evening, letting her clear her inbox.
Didn’t clear her mind, though.
This was one of those moments when she desperately wanted a best friend. What do you do when the person you’re closest to is the one you can’t talk to?
Kell was her closest friend, even in this tentative space they inhabited. There was no one else in the world she wanted to be closer to. No one else who understood her.
No one else she lied to like this.
An email alert came in. It was Tom.
I heard about your help the other night with the flower shop.
Thank you. Between that and your transportation and parking ideas, any chance you’d consider staying?
We are looking to hire a new director of development.
I know it isn’t L.A., but we have great coffee, beautiful mountains, and the best chocolate in the world.
We’re starting interviews in a week. Shoot me a resume and cover letter if you want to throw your hat in the ring. A red hat, of course. ;)
“Oh, come on!” she snapped at the email. “Can life be any more complicated?”
Now she was being offered a chance at a job she never wanted, when the job she did want was about to be pulled out from under her? And the only way to save it was to throw Kell’s family, and the entire town, under a bus?
Tom’s email stared at her, as if the software developed human eyes that judged her.
What would it hurt to apply? the email seemed to ask.
A quick internet search pulled up the job listing.
Full-time director of planning and business development for Luview, Maine, with a regional component tapping into some of the larger chambers of commerce.
Grant writing. Community development. Job creation.
Some planning work. Rachel had enough experience between paid employment, internships, and degree work to cobble together a reasonable resume, but then she looked at the pay and laughed.
She looked again and laughed harder.
They’d been paid more at EEC in D.C., and that was a fellowship.
“What am I doing?” She stood and began to pace as best she could in the tiny space.
The sound of her own voice was a poor substitute for a friend, but it would have to do.
No way was she inviting Satan the Squirrel back in here for a talk, and Randy’s idea of conversation involved rhythmic movement.
“If I tell Kell about Markstone's buying the camp, and word gets out, I could be sued. If I don’t get Lucinda to sell, I lose my job at Markstone's and I’m a failure. If I keep my mouth shut and Kell finds out later…”
She groaned.
As she hit Reply on Tom’s email to say–what? she wasn’t sure–the internet went out.
“Damn it!”
Blinking hard, standing still, she ran back over her own words.
“If I do tell Kell, but word doesn’t get out, then maybe…”
She needed a change of scenery. And internet.
Packing up her stuff, she walked out to the car, and started the engine. Muscle memory took her to Bilbee’s Tavern, the drive that used to be a careful navigation on snowy roads now so much easier. She’d only been here a week, but it felt like months.
Coming to Kell’s place after ten seemed safe. It was cozier than the trailer, had good coffee, and she could help with Kell’s business. It was the least she could do, knowing she represented a company that intended to change the town in ways no one here wanted or expected.
And then there was all the lying she’d done for the last day. Atonement eased a bit of her guilt.
Settled in, with Calamine at her feet, she plugged in her laptop, turned it on, and voilà! Perfect high-speed internet.
If she were director of development, she’d look into broadband grants.
And electric trolleys.
Parking apps.
Job training programs.
“No. I can’t. I have to figure out which path to take,” she said to herself as the coffee pot finished gurgling. Calamine was toastier than any slippers.
The doorknob rattled and Rachel leaped to her feet.
Kell was gone on a big job forty-five minutes away, according to his morning text, so either he was back by surprise, or someone was breaking into his apartment.
One look at a relaxed Calamine told her it wasn’t the latter.
“Yoo hoo! Anyone home?” Deanna Luview’s voice was a welcome intrusion, far better than anyone other than Kell. Arms laden with shopping bags, Kell’s mom came to a halt when she saw Rachel.
“Oh! You’re… is Kell here?”
The tone asked, Are you and Kell together?
“The internet barely works at Kenny’s. Kell’s letting me use his apartment while he’s at work, after he found me asleep in my car in the parking lot the other day.”
“Oh, goodness. Is Randy bothering you that much? I heard he calmed down a bit after they washed the pheromones off the trailer.”
“You really do know everything that’s going on here, don’t you?”
Deanna winked. “I try.”
Nervous and twitchy, Rachel took one of the bags out of Deanna’s arms and set it on the counter. “What’s going on?”
“I thought I’d surprise Kell after everything that happened at the flower shop. Seeing you shopping for him at Kendrill’s made me think about doing something nice. Plus, he mentioned he might make you dinner, so I brought some food.”
Deanna opened the fridge and burst out laughing. Rachel hadn’t gone to it yet, her coffee just finished brewing.
The fridge was full of red roses.
“He has quite a Valentine’s Day planned for you!” she said to Rachel, who frowned, then fingered the tag on the top bouquet and laughed.
“Hah! No. These are from Marty and Stella’s place. He’s storing five dozen roses for them. I’m surprised they haven’t asked for them yet.”
“They’re working on it. Our garage fridge and regular fridge are finally cleared out. What you did for them was amazing.”
“I didn’t do more than anyone else.”
“Don’t be modest. You have a gift for organizing and analyzing.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“Kell told me what happened. When all those people showed up, they had great intentions, but there wasn’t any leadership.
Marty and Stella were stressed. You took the bull by the horns and helped it all flow.
Logistics and operations are the hidden glue in keeping a business together. You do it intuitively.”
“Like with Kell’s business,” Rachel said softly.
“Oh? You’re helping him?”
“I am.”
“You two are getting closer.”
Deanna’s simple comment made Rachel burst into tears.
“Rachel! What did I say?”
“I don’t know what to do,” Rachel wailed, slumping into a chair at the dining table, burying her face in her hands. “This is so awful.”
“Awful? Getting closer to Kell is awful?”
“YES!”
“You’re going to have to explain that one, dear. My son is anything but awful.”
“Kell isn’t awful. I am!”
Deanna went to the coffee maker and poured two cups. She pulled out a carton of two percent milk from between the roses, her fingers grazing the almond milk.
“How do you take yours?”
Rachel stood, wiping her tears. “I can do it.”
Once they had their coffees, Rachel began to pace. Deanna sat down, watching her as she moved.
“I have to tell someone but I can’t break the contracts I’ve signed with my company.”
“Okay.” They stared at each other, Rachel hoping telepathy worked even the tiniest bit. Her hint seemed obvious but maybe Deanna wasn’t picking up on it?
“Oh!” Deanna said. “Let’s play Twenty Questions!”
Rachel’s shoulders dropped in relief. She walked all the way across Kell’s big living room, then back.
“Is it a person, place, or thing?” Deanna asked.
“Place.”
“Is it Luview?”
“No.”
“Is it in Maine?”
“Yes.”
“Is it the chocolate company?”
“No.”
“Is it Kenny’s trailer?”
“No.”
“Is it this apartment?”
“No.”
“Huh. That’s… hmmm. You’re not making this easy!”
“Because it’s not easy.”