19. Sebastian
NINETEEN
SEBASTIAN
I was skilled at a lot of things; cooking was not one of them. While my phone stayed dark and silent on the counter, I plated the lo mein and egg rolls, cracked the disposable chopsticks in two, and placed them on paper napkins. I never used candles, but I had wine. White instead of red this time. Things could get rowdy, and I didn’t want to ruin any more of my shirts.
I’d spent the last two days preparing my speech for the gala, wrangling contractors, and talking to demolition experts about the house. In just under three weeks the conditions of my grandmother’s will would be satisfied. I’d officially own these properties, and I’d have the leverage to do whatever I wanted with them.
I’d have the approval necessary to close the deal with Sinclair, and I’d have enough money to invest in the deal of the century. I’d be free and clear to get out of here for good.
The problem was, the place was starting to grow on me. The theater lobby looked like a bomb had gone off, but if I squinted and tilted my head at the right angle, I could almost see what Charlie found so charming about it.
It was…fanciful. There was none of the modern, sleek minimalism of the day. Many, many people had put time into hand-painting the plaster cornices, gilding the ceiling details, assembling the thousands of crystals on that ridiculous chandelier. It was a building that proclaimed, I was worth it .
Worth the time. Worth the effort. Worth the money.
But a restoration in a dying town? I wasn’t sold. I still thought it was a bad investment, and I’d be the one holding the bag at the end of it all. If I had to choose between The Bach Company, and what it meant for my mother, and New Elwood, it was no contest.
Sighing, I crunched into an egg roll. It was cold. The sun had been set for nearly half an hour when I walked over to my phone to check for Charlie’s response, even though I knew she hadn’t sent one. She wasn’t coming. She was teasing me. Or punishing me. I couldn’t decide which. She could have had the decency to let me eat when my dinner was hot, though.
I picked up my phone and tapped out a message, but then there was a knock at my door.
“Who is it?” I called.
“Open the door, Anderson,” Charlie called from the other side, and my shoulders dropped.
I opened the door. She looked freshly showered, wearing a pair of tight denim jeans and a black tank top. I couldn’t decide if I preferred her in her corporate ballbuster attire or this softer version. Both had their advantages. I leaned a forearm on the doorframe. “You’re late.”
“I had to emotionally prepare myself.”
“I didn’t know I had that much of an effect on you.” I pushed off the door and stepped aside to let her in.
She shot me an arch look. “Emotionally prepare myself for an evening of torture.”
Grinning as she walked by, I couldn’t help it when my gaze dropped down to the movement of her ass in those jeans. It would be a lot easier to deal with her if she weren’t so attractive.
But—small-town entanglements were not on the menu. I was leaving as soon as I could offload these properties and move on with my life. The most I could have was a bit of fun, and somehow I didn’t think Charlie was interested.
She stared at the table for a beat, and I wondered if she was reminiscing about that particular piece of furniture. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “You know you don’t need to have me over for dinner. We’re not friends or anything.” She stared down at the cold takeout.
“Let me warm that up,” I said, whisking her plate away and popping it into the microwave. “You want a drink?” I opened the fridge and pulled out one of those disgusting peach-flavored fizzy waters she’d had at her place, holding it out to her.
Her eyes lit up as she accepted it. “I love these!”
“They taste like dirty bathwater.”
“Why’d you buy them, then?” She cracked the tab and took a sip, humming happily.
“They were on sale,” I lied, pouring myself a glass of wine. Leaning against the counter, I met her gaze across the kitchen.
She took another sip and asked, “Why did you invite me down here?”
“Haven’t seen you in a couple of days. I missed you.”
The microwave continued to hum, and Charlie took a seat at the table. She arched her brows at me. “Uh-huh.”
“The contractors started pulling up the carpet in the lobby this afternoon,” I said. “They found this.”
I opened up the photos I’d taken on my phone and handed the device over. Her eyes widened. I loved hearing that slight intake of breath, seeing the flush on her cheeks. Yes, I could’ve sent the photos through email. But maybe I was a glutton for punishment because I’d wanted to see her face when she got the news. I didn’t want to think about seeing her face when an excavator ripped it up, though. Not right now.
“This was hiding under that dingy old carpet the whole time?”
“Incredible, isn’t it?” I leaned one hand against the table, the other on the back of her chair, and looked over her shoulder.
When Vinnie had first pulled up a section of carpet, there wasn’t just a normal subfloor beneath the low-pile, worn-out, red-and-gold carpet. There was an intricate mosaic tile that extended from wall to wall. We’d managed to pull up most of the carpet to reveal the elaborate geometric border of white, black, and dark green, then the main space under the chandelier, which had its own design, like the petals of a flower opening just under the light fixture.
It was far more color than I typically liked, with green and red spreading out on a white background that was edged in black, but even I couldn’t deny the fine dramatic effect. I had to admit, it was gorgeous. So beautiful I hadn’t been able to help the shiver of delight that had coursed through me.
“Wow,” Charlie breathed.
The microwave beeped, and I winced when the hot plate burned my fingers. I grabbed a dish towel and dropped the noodles in front of her, then took my own plate to the machine. I set my food to warm and joined her at the table.
“Does Vinnie think he can restore it?”
“He was talking about cleaning and regrouting. There’s some damage near the lobby doors that will be hard to match to the original.”
“How does this affect the budget?”
I clutched my chest. “A woman after my own heart.”
She rolled her eyes, but I saw her lips twitch.
“We’ll save on the cost of the carpet, but it’ll likely be more expensive to restore the tiles.”
“We have to, though.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“This must seem like a big waste of time and money to you,” she said, handing my phone back and picking up her chopsticks.
“I’ve accepted my fate,” I replied, “for now.”
She huffed and took a bite. I watched her for a moment, oddly satisfied, like it calmed some part of me to make sure this woman was fed and comfortable. Strange. I had to order some tests on the town’s water supply. I wasn’t thinking straight.
Pop, crack!
I jumped. What was that? It sounded like bang snaps on the ground.
Crack, pop!
There it was again. But this time it smelled like something was burning. I didn’t know if it was the combination of burnt wiring and musty house, or maybe just the days I’d spent in this town leading up to that moment, but in an instant, I was eleven years old again and my house was overrun with flames. My vision narrowed, and time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. I don’t know how long it took me to jump up from the table, or how loud I yelled when I said, “Call 9-1-1!”
“Are you okay?”
I lunged for the cabinet, grabbed the red fire extinguisher, and pulled the pin. Cold, flaky white dust spewed out of the tank, dispelling the smoke and soaking the kitchen. Breath gusted out of me as my pulse pounded, the nozzle of the fire extinguisher still pointed at the smoking microwave.
“...Anderson?”
“F-fire,” I stuttered, hands trembling. My heart still wasn’t beating right.
Charlie took the extinguisher out of my grip, achingly gentle. “There’s no fire, Sebastian. It’s okay.”
I mumbled something unintelligible.
“It’s fine. We’re fine. The apartment is fine.”
“This apartment is not fine. This entire building is not fine. This damn faulty wiring. Can’t even use the microwave!”
Decades of calcified hurt cracked open. It was this damn town. This damn house, which was so similar to the one I’d grown up in. The smell was the same: old plaster, aged wood, musty furnishings. Once upon a time, it would’ve been comforting. Now it just made me think about jerking awake in the middle of the night and smelling smoke. Rex, groggy from falling asleep late at our sleepover, stumbling over his feet to get out. My mother’s panicked expression. Everything that came after.
I needed out of this fucking town.
“I know you hate the house?—”
“I don’t hate the house,” I snapped. “I hate what this house is capable of. Do you have any idea what it’s like for a few sparks and smoke to eventually engulf everything you know and love in flames? To be a kid and lose your home. Not even have a pair of pants to your name.”
She searched my face, saying nothing.
I jabbed a finger to my chest. “I do.”
Understanding filled her gaze. “You were in a house fire?”
“It happened in the middle of the night,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. I remembered the color of the flame against the night sky. The speed at which the fire blazed through the house. By the time the firefighters got there, they hadn’t even attempted to save it but had sprayed our neighbors’ houses to save those, instead. “New Elwood was my home, and our house was old.”
“Like this.”
“Exactly like this. Built in the 1800s. My mom used to work late into the night, and she liked drinking coffee. One night, she made a fresh brew and forgot to turn it off. I woke up to the smell of burning and my mother shaking me awake and telling me I had to get out. It happened so quickly. Everything we owned was gone. Rex was over for a sleepover. He lost his Gameboy. I felt like the worst friend in the world.”
And afterward, when we didn’t even have a suitcase of possessions to our name, the great Lydia Radcliffe blamed my mother for the fire and refused to take us in unless my mother prostrated herself at my grandmother’s feet. She kicked us when we were down, and I never forgave her.
Thirty years later, I still hadn’t forgiven her.
That’s why I wanted to get rid of her properties and turn my back on this town. I wanted to wash my hands of my grandmother’s memory forever. This inheritance was a slap in the face. Yes, I wanted The Bach Company. It was my dream. But more than that I wanted to use it to give back to my parents, especially my mother, after what we all lost.
A hand slid onto my arm and squeezed gently. “That’s why you’re such a nut about safety.”
“I’m not a nut.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Did you know that the fire ratings they give these old houses are mostly meaningless? The fire doors warp and change over time, and the gaps drastically reduce the fire rating. The plaster and lath ceilings have great fire resistance, but if they’re damaged, it means upper floors can succumb to fire much more quickly than anyone anticipates. If there are lots of fabrics and combustibles, these old buildings turn into tinderboxes.”
Charlie held my gaze for a long moment. “So you’re not just here to cash out. You actually care about more than just the money.”
“I care about people not losing everything, including their lives, when I can do something about it.”
And, yes, I wanted to cash out and leave this town behind for good, because there was nothing here for me. Then Charlie looked at me with those wide blue eyes, and I wondered if maybe I was wrong—but the stench of smoke still in my nostrils reminded me otherwise.
“This place is a death trap,” I said, strengthening my resolve. I’d tear it down as soon as I could.
“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? Why not fix it up?”
Because Theo Sinclair had no interest in an old Second Empire home. He wanted the land, and I wanted out.
I cleared my throat. “That’s a mammoth job, and one I have no interest in embarking on. Anyway, this is exactly why I wanted to build new buildings. Buildings that are safe. Charlie, you live on the top floor. What would happen to you if there was a fire in the middle of the night? Albert doesn’t keep his ladder outside your window all the time.”
She bit her lip, considering. “Yeah.” When she glanced up at me, she hesitated. “Did everyone… Did everyone make it out?”
With my heartbeat finally returning to normal, I could admit to myself that I enjoyed having Charlie this close to me. I gave her a solemn look. “Everyone except Rufus.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my god. Who was Rufus?”
The moment stretched, and when I saw honest-to-goodness tears forming in Charlie’s eyes, I took pity on her and admitted, “My pet ferret.”
She smacked my arm. “You did that on purpose, you jerk.”
“Did what?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Tugged on my heartstrings like that.”
“You have a heart?”
“Shut up, ferret boy.”
I laughed, then quieted down when we glanced over at the mess of the microwave and counter.
“I’ll help you clean up, and then we can split what’s left of the food,” she said.
“Deal.”