27. Poking The Bear #3
His mouth tightens.
I hurry before he can pull away. “I believed in it. I believed in you. I stood beside you because I thought you were building something that mattered. Then people lost everything and you were gone, and I was the one answering questions.”
His face settles again. Patient. Superior.
“The police had questions because people wanted someone to blame.”
“They asked me where the money went.”
“They would.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t.”
The words come easily. Too easily.
My breath catches, not all of it pretend.
He knows. He always knew.
“I kept telling them that,” I say. “I kept saying I didn’t know. I didn’t see the accounts. I didn’t sign the transfers. I didn’t understand why the contractors were calling me after you left.”
His eyes flick once toward the folder.
I keep going, softer.
“I thought maybe I missed something. That I should have asked more. That I should have known better.”
“That wasn’t your job.”
The answer is smooth enough to sound kind.
I let it pull me in.
“Then what was my job?”
His gaze returns to mine. “You were good with people.”
The room gets quiet.
I wait.
“You made them comfortable. You made it feel local, human. I could talk numbers and projections all day, but you made them believe there was a heart in it.”
“A heart,” I repeat.
“You know what I mean.”
“I thought you loved that project.”
“I loved what it could have become. Should have.”
“And me?”
The question slips out small. I make sure it sounds smaller.
Ian leans back.
There. He likes this ground. Old ground. Personal ground. The place he thinks I am weakest.
“I cared about you.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
His eyes move over my face, and for a second I see him measuring how little he has to give me to keep me seated.
“You mattered to me.”
“Until I couldn’t give you what you wanted.”
Something colder passes through his expression. “Don’t make this about that.”
“How can I not?” My voice shakes because I let it. “You left. The project collapsed. The money was gone. Everyone looked at me like I had helped you steal from them, and you never even called.”
“I didn’t steal from anyone.”
“Then why did you take the money and go?”
He exhales, irritated now. “I took what I was owed.”
I stop moving.
He does not.
“I brought the vision, and developed that project. I built the team. I brought in the investors. I carried the risk. CEO salary, fees, and expenses aren’t theft, Kitten.”
“But the project wasn’t finished.”
“The project became impossible to finish under the circumstances.”
“Because the building was not viable to begin with?”
“No.” He raises his voice. “As usual, you still don’t understand how development works.”
I look down quickly, as if chastened. Let him think he corrected me.
“I don’t,” I say. “That’s the problem. I didn’t then. I don’t now. I need to know if I stand up for this, it's real this time. I won’t hurt my town.”
His anger eases.
“This time, I’m doing it right.”
“How?”
“I’m not rushing the acquisition. I’m making the town part of the process before anyone can accuse me of hiding anything.”
“Are you staying?”
His smile warms. “That’s the plan.”
“In Coupeville?”
“Why not? It’s a good place. The waterfront has potential. The town wants renewal. I’m ready to stop running the long cons. I’ve made my money. Now, I want something quiet and simple.”
I nod as though I am trying to believe him.
“So you’re going legitimate.”
“I was always legitimate. Portland got messy.”
“People got hurt.”
“People get hurt in business all the time. Things fail. It’s the risk you take.”
“And if this fails?”
“It won’t.”
“But if it does?”
“It won’t,” he says again, firmer. “Not if you stop making everyone nervous.”
I press my fingers to the folder. “You really think I can help that much?”
His expression turns almost fond. “Kitten, you always could.”
A leash, offered as a compliment.
“What do you need me to do?”
His eyes brighten with victory.
“At the town hall meeting, you’re on the stage with us. You don’t need to overdo it. Just be honest. You read the proposal and think this option for the cannery will be good for Coupeville.”
I nod slowly.
He leans forward. “You tell them Coupeville deserves this chance.”
I let the silence stretch long enough to feel like surrender. Then I close the folder.
“No more fighting,” I finally say.
He smiles in triumph. “That’s my reasonable Kitten. Smart girl.”
I pick up my sunglasses and put them on my head, grab my paperwork and stand.
Ian rises with me, smooth and certain now. “You’re making the right choice.”
I look at him, letting him see exactly what he expects.
A woman defeated.
A woman who wants peace badly enough to mistake surrender for safety.
“I’ll see you at the town hall,” I say.
He smiles.
“I’ll be counting on it.”
I turn and exit. I stop at the desk and turn in the room pass and then straight out the front door. The fresh air hits me and feels like resuscitation.
He thinks he scared me back into old ways and compliance.
Nice try Ian.
Go ahead, be smug.
You’ve got twenty-eight hours to enjoy it.