Chapter 13 Eliza
Eliza
I stare at the door Reed disappeared through when headlights sweep across my kitchen window. I hear laughter and van doors closing, which means trouble in the form of my meddling sisters.
Eden and Eila tumble through my front door without knocking, Eden carrying a six-pack of glass bottles and Eila oozing a drunken aura.
“We brought the prototype,” Eila announces as Eden sets the bottles on my counter with ceremony. “Honey hop beer. Eden’s wildflower honey with my cascade hops.”
“It’s nine o’clock,” I point out.
“Perfect time for alcohol,” Eden says, then stops mid-step. “Holy shit, Liza. You decorated.”
I follow her gaze around my living room, seeing it through her eyes. The scattered evergreen boughs rest on the mantle. String lights wind around the window frames. The wooden goat ornament Reed gave me sits prominently on the coffee table next to the containers of animal cookies.
“It’s nothing,” I mutter.
“It’s definitely something.” Eila pokes at the record player, which is still spinning Frank Sinatra. “Since when do you listen to crooner music?”
“Since I felt like it.”
Eden opens one of the bottles, using her silver bangle to pop the cap and pours three small glasses of amber liquid. “This smells incredible.” She glances toward my kitchen window where I’ve set up a small hydroponic herb garden. “When did you start growing basil indoors?”
“Reed mentioned the setup was simple for herbs.” The words slip out before I can stop them. “Someone was giving away the countertop thing on Buy Nothing.”
My sisters exchange a look loaded with enough meaning to power the city grid.
“Reed mentioned…” Eila repeats slowly.
“It was just a suggestion.”
“Uh-huh.” Eden hands me a glass. “How is Tree Boy?”
“Fine.” I take a sip of the beer, which is amazing—the honey rounds out the hoppy bite perfectly. “This is good.”
“Don’t change the subject,” Eila says, settling onto my couch with obvious plans to stay awhile. “Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill. We made cookies for tomorrow’s exchange. He helped with the dishes. End of story.”
“Really?” Eden perches on the arm of my ancient recliner. “Because you’ve got flour in your hair and you’re glowing. I’m thinking you just got properly kissed.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “I am not glowing.”
“You are definitely glowing,” Eila confirms. “Also, you never put up decorations. Ever. Remember last year when Eva begged you to hang a spiderweb for Halloween, and you told her holidays are a capitalist conspiracy?”
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Maybe Saint Nicholas changed your mind.” Eden grins.
I take another sip of beer, buying time. “It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like?” Eila asks.
I stare into my glass, trying to find words for something I don’t understand myself. “It’s complicated.”
“Most good things are,” Eden says.
“He’s not like I thought.”
“How so?”
“He listens when I talk about my work. He doesn’t act like what I do is cute or quaint.” I set my glass down harder than necessary. “He washed dishes without being asked.”
“The bar is so low for men,” Eila mutters.
“But he cleared it,” Eden adds. “That’s something.”
I want to tell them about the way he looked at my kitchen in awe, about his vulnerability when he talked about his father, about the moment before Chiron interrupted when I thought he might kiss me. Instead, I say, “He’s Reed Saint Nicholas.”
“Meaning what?” Eila asks.
“Meaning he’s rich. Dynasty rich. His family owns half of the development projects in the county, and he thinks he’s some sort of do-gooder saint, bringing the gift of trees to bougie people in condos.” I stand, suddenly restless. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Enjoy it?” Eden suggests. “I sell a lot of my honey and beeswax products to those condo dwellers.” My sister shrugs.
“It’s not that simple.” I pace toward the window, looking at the goat pen where Chiron stands sentinel in the darkness. “He holds all the power here.”
“What do you mean?” Eila asks.
“He’s the one who decides whether I’m free and clear of the fifteen thousand dollars in damages.” The words taste bitter. “Technically, he could still sue me if he wanted to.”
My sisters go quiet, and I can practically hear them processing this information.
“But he wouldn’t,” Eden says. “I mean, you’ve been helping him, he obviously likes you—”
“Obviously?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “What’s obvious is I destroyed his work, and I’m in his debt. Who even knows if he’s been telling the truth about his shitty parents. Could be feeding me a line because he saw my soft spots.”
“Eliza, that’s not—” Eila starts.
“Isn’t it?” I turn to face them. “Think about it. I help him fix his trees, I help him make cookies for my family’s party, I make him look good in front of people he wants to impress. And in return, he doesn’t destroy my credit and my business.”
“You’re being paranoid,” Eden says firmly.
“Am I? What do we know about him except that he comes from money? We have a lot of experience with how rich people treat people like us.” I take a gulp of beer, feeling the impact of the strong ale.
Eila shifts. “Ben happened to notice some amendments to Reed’s business filings this week. He was curious about what they might be about.”
My stomach drops. “What kind of amendments?”
“He didn’t know. Just that something had been updated with the city. You know how Ben is about paperwork.”
“See?” I gesture broadly. “Reed’s changing things. Probably covering his ass before he cuts me loose and sicks his lawyer on me.”
“Or maybe he finally figured out the paperwork forms you said he was struggling with,” Eden suggests.
I snort. “Yeah right.”
Eila counters, “What’s that they say about the simplest answer making the most sense?”
I down the rest of my beer in one gulp. The honey and hops do nothing to settle my churning thoughts. “I should have known better than to trust someone like him.”
“Someone like him?” Eden’s voice sharpens. “Someone who brought carrots for your goats and charmed your psychotic donkey?”
“Someone who has the power to ruin me.”
“Jesus, Liza,” Eila says. “What did Mom do to you?”
The question hits like a slap. “This isn’t about Mom.”
“Isn’t it? You’re so terrified of being hurt that you’re sabotaging something good before it even starts.”
“I’m being realistic. Just because you two found perfect men doesn’t mean the rest of them aren’t shitty monsters.”
“You’re scared,” Eden says. “And I get it. But Reed isn’t Mom. Why not give him a chance?”
I collect their glasses, needing something to do with my hands. “A chance to wreck my credit and crush my business? No thanks. I need to rein it in and sever ties.”
“The cookie exchange is tomorrow,” Eden says. “He’s coming, right?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should tell him not to.”
“Maybe you should give him a chance,” Eila suggests.
After they leave, I sit in my decorated living room, listening to the record player skip on the last song. The wooden goat Reed gave me stares at me from the coffee table, and I can’t decide if it represents something beginning or something I’m about to ruin.
The truth is, I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop since the moment I realized I cared about him. Rich guys don’t end up with women like me—women who have trust issues and get along better with goats than dinner companions.
But what if I’m wrong? I think about how he acted at the market, the way his friends tease him about being uptight. It reminded me of how my sisters and I act when we’re together. Someone with a tight network can’t be a slimy creep, right?
The question that really terrifies me: am I brave enough to find out?