Chapter 5
Chapter Five
LILY
Tuesdays are for real estate. My schedule can change quickly on any given day between the two jobs, but I purposefully keep Tuesdays for any clients I might have or searching for leads.
I don’t always have to go into the office, but I like getting out of the house and after the breakup, following a routine keeps me in the right headspace.
I say hi to Addison at the front desk and she nods at me in acknowledgement. A cool greeting, but I’m used to it.
Sarah, my one nice coworker, is waiting for me at my desk, a big grin and a vase of flowers beside her. “Someone has a secret admirer.”
Frowning, I eye the lilies. It’s a little cliché given my name. “Were you here when they dropped them off?” I must’ve missed the delivery by minutes.
“No, but there’s a note.” Sarah hands it to me, practically giddy.
It must be nice to not be jaded at the idea of love. With a sigh, I stare at the cardstock and the words in simple black font.
You take my breath away.
“So romantic,” Sarah murmurs, reading over my shoulder with absolutely zero shame.
Perhaps if they weren’t from Matt. He’s the only person who’s ever gotten me lilies. I think he’s convinced himself they must be my favorite. I crumple the paper and throw it in the trash, reaching for the vase.
“What are you—”
The vase plops into my trash can, some of the water sloshing out.
Sarah gasps. “You don’t like them?”
“Matt’s trying to apologize.”
Her eyebrows pinch together in confusion.
“We got into a fight,” I explain, shaking my head. “But I’m not accepting his apology.”
She glances at the flowers again, less shocked. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” She pauses. “Anything I can help with?”
“Thanks, Sarah. I’m okay.” Quiet settles between us and I mentally curse myself. “Sorry, I’m being rude, how are you?”
“I’m great,” she grins. “Still up for lunch today?”
“Yup.” I set my purse on my desk. “First, though, I need to find some work.” Preferably with local clients.
“It’s slim pickings. Laura and Ryan have been taking all the new leads.”
We share a look. Sarah and I, while not new to real estate, are newer to the company and Ryan and Laura like to piss on their territory.
They greet new customers first, bribe the administrative assistant to route calls their way.
Not to mention, they have a few years of experience over us and strong reputations for getting the job done.
I’ll bide my time, hoping for some new leads or customers to find me through the deals I’ve successfully worked.
Though honestly, considering I’ve only worked with locals, that could take a while.
Big Ridge doesn’t see too much business from people who live here, probably five or so clients a year, but there are quite a few tourists or companies buying up homes to use for vacation rentals.
“Well,” Sarah says, glancing toward the door as a couple walks in. “Guess I better get to it. See you at lunch.”
I nod and watch her greet her clients, grateful at least that she and I get along. Sitting down, I settle at my computer to do some research and peruse new real estate in towns nearby.
One way or another, I’ll find some work.
A rejection email lands in my inbox right after lunch with Sarah. I stare at the screen, despair engulfing me.
Your application has been declined due to insufficient credit score and income verification.
That’s the third one this week. Ugh, my life is a disaster.
I close the email and drop my head into my hands.
The monthly rent at Big Ridge Manor, Mom’s facility, is eating me alive.
Between that, the BMW I bought to impress clients, the renovation loan, and trying to chip away at the credit card balances, I’m drowning.
I mean, I might already be dead. This could be hell.
Sometimes it feels like it.
Okay, get it together. My stomach churns as I do the math again.
If I take on more hours with the cleaning company, push myself harder, and if I can freaking land a sale, I can make enough to pay down my credit cards.
It’s not like I have a choice. I wish I had thought more rationally about the renovation, but a bed and breakfast has always been Mom’s dream.
Is it so terrible that I want to give her that gift before she loses every part of herself?
There are plenty of big hitters searching for million-dollar homes and those commissions would quickly unbury me, but I’ll have to sweet talk the admin for some help.
Getting up, I smooth my blouse and head to Addison’s desk.
She glances at me as I head over, eyebrows lifting, probably wondering if I’m about to make her life harder.
A lot of people don’t realize that administrative assistants hold all the power.
They can make or break you. A good rule of thumb? Don’t fuck with the admin.
“Hey, Addison.” My voice is bright and cheery, so at odds with my inner turmoil.
“Hi, Lily. What’s up?”
Wringing my hands, I stop beside her desk and glance around, hoping no one witnesses my begging. “I, uh, I could really use a lead. Something big.”
She pauses, gaze slipping to the side before dashing back to meet mine. I can see her rejection before she even opens her mouth to tell me she can’t help.
“Please, Addison.” I swallow hard. “I need the money. Like really, really need it.” I’ll drop to my knees and beg her if I have to.
But pity washes over her features. “Your mom?”
I nod. “It’s expensive. I’m not asking for a ton of leads, just one. One big one, if you can. Or a couple small ones.”
Sighing, she looks at her monitor again. Her voice is low when she speaks. “I have a guy asking about vacation homes. He’s a big hitter. I was going to give it to Laura, but—”
“I’ll do anything. Anything you want,” I say quickly, totally desperate, but I can’t even be ashamed when I’m this hard up.
Addison tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll send you the job if you help me with something.”
“Name it.”
She leans closer. “My grandma passed away and I need help cleaning her house.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Do you want me to get you on the schedule?” I can probably sweet talk the manager at my other job into putting her ahead of someone else.
Making a face, Addison shakes her head. “No. I want you to help me out of the goodness of your heart.”
She wants me to do it for free? My insides twist. I don’t like this. Not one bit. I should say no, find another way to get a lead.
“He’s in the millions,” she says, changing my mind in an instant.
“Okay, yeah, I’ll help you out if you send the lead.”
She smirks and clicks a button. “Done. The lead is in your inbox and I’ll text you the instructions for the lock box at my grandma’s.”
“Great, thank you so much.” I turn to leave but she stops me with her hand on my arm.
“I forgot to mention my grandma liked to keep things.”
Lines cut across my forehead. “Was she a hoarder?”
“Kind of. Either way, Ryan is putting it up for sale in two weeks, and I need it cleaned out by then. All of it. There’s a dumpster in the driveway and a hazmat suit in the garage.”
Fuck. I should have known it wouldn’t be some simple cleaning job, but it’s a small price to pay for the lead. “No problem,” I lie, hoping she’ll send me some more work if I do her this favor.
She nods and turns back to her computer.
I return to mine, dread settling on my shoulders like a lead blanket.
The next few weeks are going to suck. I’m already exhausted.
I don’t have a home and I’m not entirely sure the guys will let me stay much longer, which means I’ll be out on my ass soon enough.
That makes me a little sad. It’s been four days since they let me crash at their place.
The guys have been nothing but kind about letting me stay in their guest room.
Hudson made pancakes this morning. Cole left my favorite coffee creamer in the fridge with a note that said For Red.
Gage gave me fresh sheets even though I didn’t need them.
They’re so different from Matt. Considerate. I realize the bar is on the floor here, but it’s been nice.
Temporary, I remind myself.
They’re probably counting down the days for me to get my shit together. I open my email and start drafting messages for my new client, pushing down the voice in my head that’s whispering all the ways this could go wrong. The good news is, there’s no way things could get any worse.
The universe must really hate me, because at that exact instant, my phone buzzes with a text from Matt.
MATT
When are you getting your stuff? I need the space.
I stare at the message, my jaw clenching.
He has spectacular timing as always. Of course he’s pushing me now when I can barely handle everything else on my plate.
My gaze slips to the lilies in the trashcan.
I guess the apology flowers mean nothing then?
Looks like he’s completely changed his mind, which is fine by me.
There’s no chance in hell I’ll take him back.
Sarah might’ve looked at me like I was crazy when I chucked them, but I’ll happily murder those flowers if it means never dealing with Matt again. Releasing a huff, I type and delete five different responses to his rude ass message before settling on something that won’t cause a big fight.
Working on it. Give me a week.
His response comes back immediately.
Three days. I’m having people over this weekend.
I grip the phone tight. Three days? I have three days to figure out storage, coordinate movers, and somehow squeeze it between a new client, a second job, and now cleaning the house for Addison? Great. Fucking perfect. Who needs sleep anyway?
I drop the device on my desk and take a deep breath.
I’m fine.
It’ll be okay.
Everything will be fine.
Even I don’t believe myself.
The morning I’m set to pick up things from Matt arrives like an unexpected hangover. I’m tired and more than a little grumpy. A wise woman once said: coffee fixes everything. Or something like that.