Chapter 44
FORTY-FOUR
“ I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh .”
~Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
A loud vibration hummed from Elle’s purse as she stood in front of the mirror of her Chicago hotel, slipping in a pair of silver hoop earrings. She was putting the final touches on her Willa selected ensemble for her big presentations at Sloan-Whitney’s Annual board meeting. It was her second day in Chicago. The first day spent attending the ribbon cutting and announcement of their partnership with Magda’s foundation that would expand Elle’s mobile mammography program. It had been a huge success.
Shuffling over to the chair, she scooped up her black hobo bag grabbing the phone and a tiny envelope clinging to it out. The envelope tumbled to the red carpet. Letting the call go to voicemail, her eyes locked on the tiny, embossed logo of the Village Rose stamped on the envelope’s top right corner. It was the card from the last flower delivery from Clayton that arrived the day before she’d left.
She’d slipped the card into her purse assuming it was just another sassy message from Aunt Janet. Bending down, she lifted the card, tracing her fingers over the logo. Tapping the envelope with her finger, she considered just putting it back without opening it, but compulsion nibbled at her to know what Janet had written.
And what if it wasn’t from Janet? What if Clayton had written the card for the last delivery? Carefully opening the envelope, she read the tiny card’s smooth print. It wasn’t Clayton’s handwriting. It wasn’t Janet’s either.
You’re worth the risk. ~Love, Uncle Pete
Elle’s face scrunched in confusion as she stepped back to sit on the corner of the bed completely missing it and falling to the soft carpet on her butt. “Fuck.” She picked herself back up and lowered to the bed, hitting the corner this time.
What risk? Was he saying she was worth Clayton taking a risk on for love? What does this mean? Her brain swirled as her eyes studied each letter as if they would somehow reveal their hidden truth like one of those mysterious eye photos that if you stare at long enough suddenly a boat appears.
Pointless! Standing up, she grabbed her cell, which managed to land safely on the bed and dialed Pete.
He answered on the third ring. “Hey, kiddo. I was just showing my foreman the article about your event yesterday. So proud of you.”
“Thanks.” She paused, soaking in his praise like a warm bubble bath before continuing. “What does ‘You’re worth the risk’ mean?”
“Straight to business. I see you finally read the card. Let me get in my truck.”
Elle could hear the pound of hammers, buzz of saws, and loud gruff voices distinctive of a construction site. With the slam of a door the sounds grew muffled and distant.
“Ok. Can you hear me?” he asked.
“Yeah. What does it mean?” Elle tapped the toe of her shoe on the floor eagerly.
“Well, love is a risk.”
“I know,” she huffed, but then winced. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Are you saying that I was worth the risk for Clayton? If so, shouldn’t the card go to him? Also, why is the card from you? Wait, did you send the flowers? No, Clayton acknowledged them when I thanked him. I’m confused,” Elle sputtered not letting her uncle answer any of her questions. She paced back and forth from the door to the window. None of this made sense.
“Kiddo, take a breath.” Laughter lilted in Pete’s voice.
Elle dropped onto the bed, crossing and then recrossing her legs.
“First, the flowers were from Clayton. He had called them in on Tuesday. I was there seeing your aunt before heading back to the house to meet Tobey. She told me how she had been writing silly cards to you that accompanied the weekly flowers from Clayton. I asked her to let me write that week’s note.”
“But what does it mean?” she pushed, agitation growing as she struggled to understand his message.
“The message was for you, not Clayton. I think he already knows you’re worth the risk. I don’t think you know that you’re worth the risk. They always say that before you can find someone worthy, you have to know you are worthy of being loved. During our ‘Week of Pete’ date…side note, can we get that trademarked?”
Elle let out an annoyed breath.
Pete chuckled. “Ok, we’ll put a pin in that for later. Back to you. When we drove back and talked about you coming home for the holidays, I asked you if you’d be staying with Clayton and you were evasive. When you don’t want to talk about something, you clam up. You avoid, deflect, or flat-out refuse. I knew you didn’t want to talk about where you were staying because you didn’t want to talk to me about ending things with Clayton once you left town. If you ended things with Clayton because it wasn’t right, that’s one thing, but I don’t think that’s what’s happening here.”
“I just thought it was best to not drag things out.” At the time. “His life is there and mine is…” The ache in her throat cut off her words.
“Where your life is and where his life is doesn’t matter. What matters is what you want your life to be, and with whom. The rest is just geography.”
Elle bit her lower lip taking in her uncle’s words. She had been stuck in what was , rather than the possibility of what could be . With her fingers she traced the shape of paw prints across her black pants mimicking the matching prints on Clayton’s right forearm. Each paw-print a symbol of charting his own path for the life he wanted.
“Bottom line, you need to decide what you want and go for it. It’s one thing if you don’t want Clayton or anyone. It’s quite another thing if you think you’re undeserving. It would break my heart if you spent anymore of your life feeling you weren’t worth loving.” His voice cracked. “You are worth the risk, so bet on yourself, kiddo. I know I always bet on you.”
“Oh, Pete.” She exhaled weepily.
“Knock it off, kiddo. It’s too early for me to be crying in my truck at a construction site.” He sniffled.
“Is there an appropriate time to cry in your truck at a construction site?” Elle asked, dashing stray tears from her eyes.
“After lunch. Always better to cry on a full stomach,” he joked.
“Sound life advice from my favorite uncle.”
“Your one and only.” he quipped.
He’d been the first man who’d loved her. He was her North Star shining his love upon her as he helped her navigate life. Now, he was pushing her to fully love herself and chase her heart’s desire. So many wants spun through her like hopeful cyclones twisting wildly with no clear path or destination, because she had never allowed them to take root. He was telling her not to just let them take root, but to allow herself to be swept up in them.
Later, as Elle sat in the small restaurant in the lobby, Malcolm going on about their successful board meeting, including both of Elle’s proposals being approved, and next week’s meeting with Magda to firm up details for their joint venture, Uncle Pete’s words danced in Elle’s heart. There had been so many subtle and overt messages through the years proving betting on herself was a risk to not take. Her caution…her fear… was the foundations of the wall constructed around her heart.
The one thing Elle wanted was to be chosen. To be enough for someone. In Clayton, she’d found a man that told her every day in so many ways that she was more than enough…she was everything. Someone had chosen her, but she hadn’t chosen herself.
Elle wasn’t imprisoned by her past, rather she had tied herself to it allowing it to control her. Not choosing Clayton, not choosing them, was not choosing herself.
With stunning clarity, she now knew what she wanted. A plan began formulating in her head, and as soon as Malcolm stopped talking and paid the bill, she’d put her plan into action.
“One more thing…” Malcolm said as he handed his card to the server. “I’m not sure if you heard the rumors but we’re creating a Deputy Chief Operating Officer position at Sloan-Whitney. I’d like to offer you the position.”
“Excuse me?” Elle’s head jerked back, rudely ripped from the excitement of her plan.
“That’s why I wanted to have lunch after the board meeting. You are perfect for the job. The bord agrees with me. It will mean a raise and increased responsibility and that includes a little bit more travel. You can also pick your own assistant. I’m sure you’d like to bring Braedon over. It would mean a salary increase for them, as well, as is fitting for the assistant to the second in command for Sloan-Whitney.” Amusement sparked in Malcolm’s eyes. “What do you say? Are you interested? If so, we can work out the details on Monday and then make a formal announcement at the end of the week.”
“Umm…” Elle bit her lower lip.
What matters is what you want your life to be… her uncle’s voice whispered inside her encouraging her to follow her heart.
Fifteen minutes later, Elle ran through the lobby, yanking her phone out. Good thing Braedon was on speed-dial. Her breath stuttered with each ring. The first, the second, and finally on the third they answered.
“Can you get my flight changed from Friday to today and instead of LAX to Buffalo? Or even Rochester?Hell, Syracuse. Just somewhere near home? I’ll need a rental car, too,” she blurted.
Phone pressed to her ear; Elle jogged briskly toward the bank of elevators. She pressed the Up button repeatedly.
She wouldn’t call Clayton. This needed to be a face-to-face conversation. She was risking it all for the everything she wanted her life to be.
The display showed the elevator stuck on the fifteenth floor. Come on! Work with me!
“Is everything okay? There wasn’t an emergency was there?” A spike of panic colored Braedon’s tone.
“No, just something I really need to do. Can you help me? I’m almost to my room to pack up.”
“Yeah, but are you sure? You have dinner with your friend Beth tonight. Maybe I could reschedule for the morning.”
“Shit. Ugh…” Elle grumbled at the uncooperative elevator and Braedon’s reminder. “…No. Beth will understand.”
In fact, Beth might drive Elle to the airport cheering her on the whole way. It was Thursday and she wanted to walk up behind him at the VFW to surprise him, just as he’d done to her. It needed to be tonight. She had waited long enough.
“If you’re sure…”
“Yes… Finally!” She groaned in relief as the elevator pinged open at the lobby.
“The elevator finally arrived?”
“Yeah.” She slammed her finger against the button for her floor. “I may lose you.”
“Yeah, so?—”
As the doors shut, the line went silent. They could put people on the moon, have video chats with people in submarines, and invent hairspray that actually held all day but still no phone that would let you continue a call on an elevator.
Elle’s fingers hit redial as the elevator reached the fifth floor, knowing the call would connect as soon as the doors slid open. Holding the phone close to her ear, she stepped onto the red and gold swirl carpet leading to her room, her feet suddenly immobilized as her eyes anchored to the large mirror hanging across from the bank of elevators decorated with a series of purple Post-Its spelling out a single word. Hi .