Chapter 10
KATE
Mom was stirring her coffee like she was trying to drown something in it. She hadn’t looked up at me for at least the last five minutes, which meant something was going on with her.
“Are you planning to drink that or interrogate it?” I asked, spearing a strawberry from the plate between us.
She smiled, but it arrived late, almost like it had gotten lost somewhere between her brain and her face. “I am drinking it.”
“You’ve stirred it twenty-seven times.”
“Twenty-eight,” she countered with another smile that didn’t quite reach where it should’ve. Then she sighed. “I just want today to go smoothly.”
“It will,” I assured her. “The bid is solid. Hinds is practically family. Dad is literally picking him up from the airstrip himself. We’re fine.”
“That’s part of it,” she murmured.
I paused, speaking around my strawberry. “Part of what?”
“Nothing.” She waved her hand like she could swat the entire conversation away. “You’ve done an incredible job this week, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. “You only get this sentimental when something is wrong.”
“I can be proud without impending doom attached.”
“Historically, that hasn’t been your brand.”
She laughed softly, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Just enjoying my coffee. Your father and Abram should already be on their way to the manor. We should get going soon too.”
“You’re deflecting.”
“Jetlag,” she said mildly, as if she’d taken a flight halfway across the globe yesterday instead of Chicago.
As she sipped her coffee, I sighed and tried to figure out what on earth had her so on edge. We’d always been close, but today, she was completely refusing to open up despite the fact that it was completely obvious something was on her mind.
All the way to the Westwood compound—or whatever it was called—she talked around my pointed questions, very deliberately not giving me any real answers. I let it go when we arrived to find everyone was already there, the mansion buzzing with activity.
Inside the dining room, a breakfast buffet stretched nearly the entire length of one wall, the table laden with silver warmers, fresh pastries, smoked salmon, an omelet station, and an entire island dedicated to fruit.
Now that’s what I’m talking about.
I loaded a plate with pineapple, berries, mango, and melon, ignoring the carb fortress behind me.
“Still obsessed with fruit, I see.”
I turned, a grin instantly breaking out across my face. “Abram!”
He pulled me into a warm hug, the scent of cedar and expensive cologne enveloping me. I’d spent all week trying to work out the best deal I could because of hugs like these. As much as I understood his instinct to retire, I desperately wanted to protect both him and my father’s firm.
“Look at you,” he said as he pulled back and gave me a quick onceover, almost like he was assessing me for injury. “Chicago suits you, Katie.”
I bit back a smile. “You’ve been here three minutes. You can’t possibly know that.”
“I read the bid,” he said, tapping my temple lightly as he neatly sidestepped what I’d just said. “You did a stellar job with it. Really.”
Relief trickled through my chest, easing some of the tension that had been sitting front and center all week. “Thank you.”
“I want to move forward.” He guided me toward the table as everyone gathered. “Truly. You and the Westwoods have built something impressive.”
“That’s great news,” Alex said, appearing beside us with effortless polish. “We’re thrilled to hear it.”
Abram nodded, settling into his chair beside the one he’d pulled out for me. “There’s just something… missing.”
I froze halfway into my own seat. “There’s something missing?”
Across the table, Nate stilled too, his fork hovering over scrambled eggs. His brow puckered on a deep frown. He didn’t say anything though, just listening intently.
“What do you mean by missing?” I asked smoothly, voicing the question on all our minds right then.
Abram smiled, ridiculously calm for a man who was talking about selling off the company that was his life’s work. Before we could press further, however, Mr. Westwood clapped his hands once, commanding attention with ease.
“That’s enough of the heavy talk before the coffee has even started cooling enough to sip,” he said. “Abram, I heard you actually attended the playoffs last season?”
The pivot was so seamless, it was truly impressive, but the tension in the room didn’t disappear. It just got buried under sports talk and nostalgic stories about stadiums and legendary players. I noticed Nate relax slightly when the conversation shifted.
Sports were clearly his comfort zone. He leaned in, animatedly debating batting averages with Abram and his father like the fate of civilization depended on it. I’d never heard him say so many words in one sitting.
“Do you still go to games, Abram?” Mr. Westwood asked.
“Whenever I can,” Abram replied. “Speaking of which, there’s a Cubs versus Yankees game tonight, isn’t there?”
Nate’s fork paused midair, his nod a lot more careful than his debates had been. “There is.”
“Excellent,” Abram replied. “Let’s go. You and me.”
Nate’s eyebrows rose. His incredibly blue eyes shimmered with something that looked a heck of a lot like confusion. “I, uh, of course.”
“I want the full experience,” Abram said happily. “The atmosphere, the rivalry, the hot dogs, and possibly even some warm, overpriced beer.”
“That can absolutely be arranged,” Nate said like being tasked with taking a man like Abram to a game was part of his regular job description, but his shoulders had gone subtly rigid.
“Kate should come too,” Abram replied casually.
I looked up at him. “Me?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling as he glanced between us. “I’d like to observe the dynamic between the two powerhouses who put this deal together.”
“I wouldn’t call us powerhouses,” I said.
“I would,” he countered easily, then smiled at Nate. “She’s also a Yankees fan.”
Nate’s head snapped toward me, one blond brow arching slowly. I shrugged, popping a blueberry into my mouth. “What? I grew up in New York.”
“Of course,” he muttered.
“Is that a problem?” I asked.
“Only morally,” he said. “It explains so much about you.”
Abram chuckled. “I do enjoy conflict when it’s related to sports.”
“I take baseball very seriously,” Nate said, his gaze drifting to me.
I widened my eyes. “I’ve gathered.”
He sighed. “Then you understand why this is painful.”
“I’m sorry my team is better than yours,” I said with a devilish grin that I knew would piss him off.
He held my gaze, but once again, there was something other than just the usual irritation in it.
It looked more like he was working overtime trying to solve a problem, like I could practically see the wheels spinning in his brain, but slipping instead of gaining traction.
I turned back to my fruit, unease prickling along my own spine too.
Something was off. About all of this. And I was sure that was what he was pondering.
Mom had barely touched her breakfast. Dad spoke easily with Abram and Douglas, but he’d avoided my gaze more than once. Douglas Westwood watched Abram with a careful kind of attentiveness and even Alex looked wary.
He stood at the buffet table with a cup of coffee in his hand, looking out at the room like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. When his gaze landed on Nate, something tightened in his expression. Concern, maybe. Or a warning.
Whatever it was, it looked like he was plotting something his brother was unaware of.
Nate caught the look too. I saw it in the slight set of his jaw.
I glanced between them, then back at Abram, who was laughing at something Mr. Westwood had said, entirely at ease while the rest of the room felt like it was balancing on an invisible tightrope.
The deal was solid, the offer airtight, and yet, it felt like everyone knew something I didn’t. I couldn’t stand feeling like I was being left out of something major associated with the deal, and it wasn’t even just that. It was also that Nate obviously didn’t know what was going on either.
No one gets to outmaneuver him but me.
Abram chuckled at something Douglas had said and lifted his coffee cup as he turned back to Nate. “You’ll have to explain the infield shift to me tonight.”
“I will,” he replied. “It’s simple once you understand the data patterns.”
Abram grinned. “Oh, I love patterns.”
The words sounded harmless, but they didn’t feel that way. The feeling that Nate and I were in the dark only intensified as everyone finished their food and sipped their coffee. By the time the polite goodbyes began, the gathering dissolved into small, departing clusters.
Mom touched my arm. “We should head back to the hotel, sweetheart.”
“I’ll meet you there,” I said, watching Nate speak quietly with Alex near the doorway.
Dad frowned. “Kate—”
“I just need two minutes,” I insisted.
Mom gave Dad a subtle look and he sighed. “We’ll be waiting at the car.”
They moved toward the door and I strode across the dining room to Nate. He didn’t notice me, his blond head bent close to his brother’s darker one. They were talking in low tones, too quietly for me to hear what was going on.
Alex touched his shoulder and murmured something that made Nate’s posture shift immediately, his spine snapping straight. He and Alex took off to a study down the hall a second later, both of their expressions drawn and tight.
My stomach swooped and I went after them, but they shut themselves in before I could get there, the door closing firmly just a few feet away. I stopped three steps short of it, staring at the polished wood like I could see through it if I glared hard enough.
Spinning on my heels, I went back to the dining room in search of Jane. She and I had chatted a little last night and we got along really well. If her husband was up to something, she’d know about it. Hopefully, she’d even tell me, but she was suddenly nowhere to be found.
“Kate?” I turned to see my mom standing near the hallway, her purse already looped over her arm. “It’s time to go, honey.”
“Do you know if something else is going on?” I asked quietly when I fell into step beside her. “That was really weird, the atmosphere back there.”
Her smile faltered. “There’s always something going on in deals like this.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have right now,” she said gently.
Dad was waiting when we reached the door, smiling like he’d won a contest he’d been entering his whole life.
The car ride into town was suffocatingly polite.
I wanted to ask him what the hell Abram thought was missing and what it meant for us, but he seemed so happy that I could only assume that whatever it was, it was in our favor.
“Dad,” I said finally. “Is Abram after something else?”
“He’s just looking at this thing from every angle,” he replied mildly. “That’s not unusual for him.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Kate.” My mom sounded nervous when she said my name, but when I looked at her, she just flashed me a serene smile. “Just enjoy the game tonight, darling. Let us know when you get back.”
“I will,” I promised, but by the time they dropped me off at the St. Regis, all I wanted was to sit down with my laptop in my favorite corner of the sofa and reread all my emails.
Whatever chaos was building around this deal, that was the one place that would always be uncomplicated.