Chapter 19
Addison
As soon as the flight touches down in Seattle, I know in my gut that I made the right choice. I clutch my purse tightly to my chest as the Uber takes me from the airport to downtown Seattle.
Mom left Montana on Saturday. She didn’t even stay long enough to seek me out after our fight in the mess hall. Apparently, she had an important open house Saturday afternoon. So I’m heading directly to the office downtown to patch things up with her. To talk to both her and Dad.
Nerves swirl in my belly as the car stops outside the high rise that houses my parents’ firm, but it doesn’t change my resolve. I’ve made my choice. And it’s the right one.
I thank the driver, grabbing my bag, stepping out onto the sidewalk, and heading into the suffocatingly familiar lobby. It takes the elevator exactly thirty seconds to reach my parents’ floor, and when the doors slide open, the receptionist greets me.
“Addison!” she says warmly. “Haven’t seen you in a bit.”
“Hi, Lisa,” I say. “Are my parents here?”
“In their office,” she says, and I thank her as I walk past, down the long hall. My parents share the corner office. They’re sitting at their desks, facing each other, as I knock gently on the door and let myself in.
They both look up at the same time, surprise painting their faces. My dad is the first one to smile, while Mom still looks confused.
“Addie!” he exclaims, standing from his desk and moving across the room to wrap me in a hug. “What are you doing here? We weren’t expecting you back for another few weeks.” He glances quizzically at Mom.
Mom stands, crossing her arms, still looking perplexed.
“I came home because …” I start, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “Because I’ve made a decision.”
Mom nods slowly, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “Good. Good, Addison,” she says. “I knew you’d come to your senses and see that all of this—”
“Actually, just—” I stutter, holding up my hands. “Can I just say what I have to say first?”
Mom seems taken aback, but she nods anyway. Dad simply crosses his arms and cocks his head, waiting for me to continue.
I square my shoulders, try to center myself, and then I go forth with the speech I’ve been rehearsing for hours. “I don’t want to work for Seattle Luxe anymore.”
Mom opens her mouth, but I hold up my hand, shooting her a pleading look. She closes it, pursing her lips.
“I haven’t enjoyed working here for a long time—if ever.
And I know it’s your dream, and you guys have created something incredible.
Really. It’s just … not for me. I don’t do well in the spotlight.
I’m not charismatic like you two. I’m not outgoing.
And instead of fighting myself over it, I think maybe I need to find a new path.
Find something I like, something that fits who I am—not the other way around.
” I steel myself for the next part. The part I’m truly anticipating pushback on.
Because everything I just threw at them—I’ve said it all before.
And they know how to talk me out of things.
But what’s next is a plan. Something real.
I suck in a breath. “I talked with Tate, and he offered me a job at the ranch,” I say simply.
Dad’s eyes widen, and Mom splutters a sound of disgust.
“You’re going to work at the ranch …” Dad echoes like he didn’t quite hear me right.
It’s then that Mom laughs, although it’s humorless. “You can’t work at a ranch, Addison. That’s ridiculous.”
“What would you do there?” Dad asks.
“Cooking,” I reply. “Baking, mainly. I don’t know if Mom told you, but I’ve gotten really good at it. And the staff love it, and it really helps them out—"
“Addison, you’re not working at a ranch,” Mom says sternly.
And while I’d prepped myself for this, promised myself I wouldn’t lose control, I can feel my resolve slipping.
“It’s not your decision!” I snap. “I’m an adult.
And while I’m thankful for the opportunities you’ve given me, I am the one who ultimately gets to decide where I go in my life.
Me. I need you to understand that, Mom.”
“Addie,” Dad steps in with his familiar placating tone. “You can’t be serious. Think about this. You want to be a glorified line cook? Seriously?”
“I’m good at it,” I defend myself.
“And I’m good at fixing the sink—doesn’t necessarily mean I should be a plumber,” Dad counters.
“I’ve been happy for once!” I shout, and I don’t know if it’s the outburst or the words, but it quiets them both for a moment.
I take the opportunity to keep going. “You sent me to Aunt Theresa’s to relax, to recoup, to come back better.
These last two months …” I shake my head, searching for the right words.
“I’ve felt confident. Like I’m actually good at something.
Good at something that makes people happy—that makes me happy.
I’ve just been … happy.” The word leaves my mouth as a whisper, a plea, begging for them to understand.
Mom and Dad simply stare back at me, but for the first time in any of our fights, I feel like my words are sinking in, like they might actually be hearing me.
Mom ducks her head, looking half-guilty, half-frustrated. Dad’s eyebrows are drawn together, staring me down as if trying to solve a puzzle. “Do you really feel that way?” he asks quietly.
I nod. “The only time I’ve been anxious all summer,” I swallow, “was when I thought about coming home.”
Dad flinches ever so slightly, then glances over his shoulder at Mom, who refuses to look up. He looks back to me. “Addie, sweetheart, we don’t want you to be miserable.” He shakes his head. “We just thought that pushing you was the right thing to do.”
“I know,” I say, and I do. I know my parents just want the best for me. But I suppose it’s hard to distinguish what that is when your child is different from you. I look to Mom, who’s still looking at the floor, her arms crossed. “Mom?” I ask hesitantly.
She looks up, her eyes sad. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she says softly.
“For how I acted the other day. You were showing me something you were excited about, and I should have listened.” She takes a breath.
Her gaze meets Dad’s, and they share a look.
She looks back to me. “If you want to work at Thatcher Ranch, we won’t stop you. ”
Shock courses through me. Did she really say what I think she did? My gaze bounces between hers and Dad’s, my mouth parting slightly. “Really? You …?”
Mom gives me a small shrug. “I don’t like it … but it’s your decision.”
I nod. I suppose that’s fair.
“One condition,” Dad says semi-sternly.
Anxiety seeps through me, worried he’s going to come up with some way for me to still work parttime at Seattle Luxe, help with brand awareness, attend parties.
But then he says, “You have to visit regularly.”
A shocked laugh bubbles out of me.
“And if you ever change your mind about real estate, you can’t go work for one of our competitors,” he says, which makes me laugh harder.
Mom sighs, grabbing her purse from her desk and striding across the room toward Dad and I. “Let’s go out for lunch,” she suggests, “and you can tell us all about your new job.”