Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Madison
“Ithink I’m going to need to cut back to just working two shifts a week, if that doesn’t put you in a bind,” I tell Becky.
I’m at the Deer River Bar with “The Marrieds,” as I’ve come to call the collective group.
I’ve become a semi-regular ninth wheel to their weekly dinners, and they all seem unbothered by my presence, at the very least.
Becky nods as she chews a bite of her chicken sandwich. “I’ll move some shifts around and figure it out. I hope that means you’ve been taking on lots of new clients!”
I can’t help but sit up a little straighter as I answer, “I have! Three new clients have signed contracts in the past week. And one of them is literally my dream type of client. I can’t wait to start reading her manuscript when she’s done with her final revisions.”
“I’m so excited for you, Mads!” Clara exclaims. She and Clark ordered matching cheeseburgers sans any condiments, and they’re also somehow managing to hold hands while eating said burgers.
“How have the past few weeks been living in the house with the exec guy?” Clark asks. “He hasn’t done anything inappropriate, has he?”
I swiftly shut down the mental image of Liam walking into the house shirtless the first morning we lived there. The flush the memory would bring to my cheeks would only invite intrusive questions from Clara.
Instead, I turn up the sass dial as I roll my eyes at Clark. “Please. Zero inappropriate things are happening. We’re simply coexisting in the only rental space your tiny town has to offer.”
Clark glowers at me, as he always does when anyone dares insult his precious city. Or with pretty much zero prompting whatsoever.
As it turns out, coexisting really is the best description of the past three weeks between Liam and me.
We haven’t had much personal interaction since the night he assisted me with the Christmas decorations and handed me the greatest gift I’ve ever, ever received.
I’ve been working hard to chase the dream that I think is really and truly my dream, and he works very long hours at the factory every day.
Even on the weekends, we have short conversations during the brief times that neither of us is working.
I’ve continued cooking dinners most nights of the week, but Liam’s only been home to eat together a couple of times.
Which is fine—because we’re just roommates and sort of friends. Nightly dinners together are not required or expected. But I feel like I’m earning my keep, so, it’s a win.
“Hey, sorry we’re late,” Abby says as she and Beau join the table. “You’re not gonna believe what we have to tell y’all tonight. Well, what Beau has to tell.”
My attention is piqued, along with everyone else’s. Abby’s not one to take the lead in conversation, so for her to sit down and immediately draw attention to herself must mean there’s some serious tea to spill.
And if Beau is arriving late from work, I have a hopeful feeling that it has to do with Liam’s work at the factory. Am I still salty that Liam has remained entirely tight-lipped about his so-called “investigation” at Pure Fur All? Absolutely, I am. I’m a grudge-holder, 100 percent.
“Please, do tell,” Syd says, propping her chin on her hands.
Davis laughs next to her. “Syd’s always ready to board the gossip train.” Syd smacks him in the chest but doesn’t deny the statement. We all lean in a little closer as Beau begins talking.
“Okay, all of the official charges have been filed, so I can finally tell y’all what’s been going down at Pure Fur All these past few months,” Beau begins.
There’s a brief pause while the waiter takes a food order from Beau and Abby, but we listen in rapt attention as Beau details the former plant manager’s embezzlement scheme.
He speaks in a hushed tone as he explains the fraud and misdirection that Liam uncovered, and I find myself inordinately filled with pride over Liam’s accomplishment.
“That’s outrageous!” Syd exclaims as Clark and Davis mumble violent suggestions about what the plant manager deserves.
“The plant’s not in danger, though, is it?” Clara asks. Everyone’s most pressing question.
“No, it’s not. Mr. Park has worked really hard to get our production line in shape. We’re hitting all of the target numbers now, even though we’re short-staffed,” Beau says.
Abby squeezes Beau’s shoulder. “Because my man here has essentially been shouldering the work of two people the past few months,” she says with pride.
Beau smiles at her but is quick to dismiss the praise coming from the group.
“Not just me. Lots of people are pulling extra weight. But no one more than Mr. Park. I wasn’t sure about him when he first arrived, but he’s whipped everything into better shape than I could have ever imagined.
That demanding attitude sure gets things done.
And he’s pushing hard to get a second production line added to open up even more jobs. ”
“What do you mean, another production line?” James asks. Beau explains his idea to add the freeze-dried food line in the empty warehouse space and how Liam is doing everything he can to make it happen—including extending his stay here in Noel.
The more Beau shares, the more the conflict of emotions escalates in my mind. Pride, awe, and admiration for Liam battle the sense of aggravation, bitterness, and hurt over the fact that I’m hearing this from Beau. Not from Liam.
My smile is a frozen fixture on my face as I scoot French fries around my plate, pretending to listen to Beau answer everyone’s follow-up questions.
“Wow, has Liam said anything about this to you, Mads?” Becky asks. “I mean, I don’t know how much y’all talk at the rental house.”
I swallow an imaginary French fry to hide the injury I feel at her reasonable question. “Not really. We do talk some, but he’s very hush-hush about work stuff. Probably because of the legal charges.”
Everyone accepts my answer at face value and returns to sharing and dissecting each other’s thoughts and speculations. If anyone notices that I’m uncharacteristically quiet, they’re either too relieved or too polite to point it out.
When I arrive home after dinner, I see Liam’s SUV parked in the driveway. He’s rarely at the house by himself between the long hours he works and my work-from-home situation. Suddenly, I find myself desperately curious to see how he spends his solo time.
In full-on stealth mode, I quietly open the front door, slip off my shoes, and tiptoe the few feet through the entryway until I can peer around the wall to see the open living room and dining room. I hear Liam’s voice before I see him sitting on the couch, talking to his phone screen.
As I approach Liam’s back, a deep male voice with a British accent is saying, “It’s very late over there. You need to get some sleep, Hana. We’ll figure this out and call you tomorrow.”
I can make out a dual-screen video call with a couple in one half of the screen and a young woman in the other half. Right about the time I realize I maybe shouldn’t be intruding on Liam’s personal conversation, a young female voice exclaims, “Who is that? Is that Madison?”
Freezing in place, I’m confident there’s a very guilty look on my face when Liam whirls around to face me, turning his phone screen away. Although, shielding the video screen doesn’t mute the voices.
Older female voice—“Who’s Madison?”
Young female voice—“Wait, I want to talk to her! Madison, this is Hana, Liam’s sister!”
British male voice—“Who is Madison?”
Liam stands as he yells, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Meow. Hamlet yowls with disapproval at me as he comes slinking around the couch. He gives a disdainful scowl in my direction before trotting off to Liam’s room.
Liam, for his part, gives me an equally disdainful, narrow-eyed look as he crosses his arms. Which has the opposite effect of intimidating me, considering how attractive he looks in his baby blue dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves and two open buttons.
I’m too busy talking myself out of being attracted to scowling Liam to be intimidated by him.
“Pursuing a career in espionage, are we?” Liam asks.
Raising my chin, I say, “Exhausting all my vocation options, I suppose. Looks like I could hack it as a spy, if required.”
“You know, most people consider it rude to eavesdrop on private conversations,” he states.
I give him an annoyed look. “Yeah, well, most people don’t have to eavesdrop to learn basic information about their friends. What’s the family meeting about? Is something wrong?”
“Everything will be fine,” Liam says.
Cocking my head, I observe, “That’s an evasive non-answer.”
“Well, I was never planning to fill you in on this private family conversation, so evasive is what you get,” Liam says.
I continue glaring until he sighs and adds, “My grandmother will be undergoing a medical procedure next week. It’s nothing too serious, and she should be just fine.
My uncle—my father’s older brother—lives close to them and is handling everything.
But my sister is living with my grandparents in London while she’s doing her postgraduate study, so she was calling to fill us in and suggest my dad fly over to visit soon. That’s the story.”
I process this sparse information that told me more about Liam’s family than I’ve learned in the past months of knowing him.
“Why wouldn’t you just tell me that? You get all huffy about me eavesdropping, but most people don’t have to spy on their friends to find out that something big is happening in their family.
Most people don’t have to hear from third parties about the embezzlement schemes that their roommates have been uncovering at work. ”
A muscle ticks in Liam’s jaw. “Talked with Beau, did you?”
“He said it’s public information now that charges have been filed,” I say, not wanting to get Beau in trouble. The town would never forgive me if I was somehow responsible for getting him fired.
“He’s correct. We shared the information with all of the employees today. They deserved to know why things had been running so poorly and to understand why operating procedures are changing,” Liam says matter-of-factly.
I grit my teeth to prevent my chin from trembling.
“But you didn’t deem it worthwhile to fill me in on everything you’ve been doing?
You’ve had the inside scoop to everything I’ve been working on since we met—since we started egging each other on about work—but I don’t get a single sliver of information from you? ”
Liam’s face is impassive. “I didn’t think you’d care that much. It’s not like your life or future are directly tied to Pure Fur All in any way.”
“Friends tell each other things like this. Friends tell each other about their families—friends don’t have to walk in on a family video call to find out their younger sister lives in London.
You are the one who said in your note that I’m your friend,” I say, heat building in my chest. “Friends share personal information to get to know each other.”
Liam shrugs. His voice is cool when he says, “Well, I don’t.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why do you hold everything about your life so close to the chest? I opened up and told you about my childhood and why I didn’t want to go back to my family farm. It wouldn’t kill you to reciprocate even the tiniest bit.”
Deep down, I know his refusal to open up to me as a friend only hurts this much because I might want to be more than friends with Liam. But I keep that knowledge shoved down where the light of admission doesn’t shine.
We stand off in silence. Only Hamlet’s meows from the bedroom pierce the quiet.
I sense the heightened pounding in my chest, the quiver of adrenaline in my fingers.
Taking a few steps closer to where Liam stands—arms still folded across his chest—I raise my chin.
“You know, I’m usually the one who winds up being too abrasive for people.
I get told I’m too direct, too honest, too blunt.
So coming from me, you should really consider this.
You’re crossing the line. You’re very, very far over into ‘jerk territory.’”
His nostrils flare, but otherwise, he gives no response.
Pivoting on my heel, I walk to my room. “I hope your grandma’s procedure goes well,” I call out without turning back.