9. Jake #2
“I didn’t take that long in the bathroom,” I say. “And there are four more.”
Possibly five.
Her lips tighten. “I need my credit cards back.”
“Sorry. There was a tragic incident with the shredder.” This is not true. They are knotted into a bag with the plastic of everyone else in this household, out of harm’s way, in the trunk of my car. They’re destined for a visit to my shredder when I get home, so the details of timing are irrelevant.
“What?” She is – big surprise – outraged. “You can’t do that!”
“I just did.” I check my watch pointedly then head for the front door.
“But Jake, I need my cards.”
“No, you don’t.” She opens her mouth to argue and I continue. “Every single one of them will be declined, starting today. I’m cancelling them.”
Her eyes blaze. “You…”
I interrupt her because it’s obvious what she’s going to say. “There is no money, Madison. And because there is no cash, there can be no more bills. There’s no way to pay them.”
Of course, I’m planning to find a way to keep them all solvent, but I’m late and I’m not going to make promises that I’m not sure can be kept. I’d rather shut Madison down now, then offer her a good surprise later, if that can be managed.
I remain skeptical that it can be done.
“You’re lying,” she says.
That annoys me, which means I become eloquent.
“Why would I lie? Do you think I want to spend more time than is absolutely necessary here, sorting all of this out? There is no money. That complicates my duties as executor, a lot. If you know where our father kept his secret stash, I’m all ears.
I’ll pay the bills and cut the balance loose, just the way he intended, but until I find some money, there’s only debt. ” I shrug. “Not much of a legacy.”
She has paled. “No money? None?”
“Not so far and not in any of the obvious places.”
Madison looks around, shaken, as if hopeful that hundred-dollar bills will start falling from the ceiling. “But what does that mean?”
“It means you can’t have your credit cards back. Goodnight.” I turn and walk out the door, leaving her gaping after me like a fish tossed on dry land. It’s not her look.
I don’t care.
I won’t care.
I can’t care. I didn’t make this mess and I didn’t ask to be given the job of cleaning it up.
I know my legal responsibilities, but duty is not the same as emotional investment.
If I think about it – and I have, a lot, these past couple of days – my father blew everything on ensuring that his second family saw all their dreams come true.
If there’s no more money, they’ve all had a lifetime of presents from the old man, which is more than any of us did.
I will not feel guilty, just because I’m the bearer of bad news.
I take a deep breath as I walk down the winding lane.
Tonight, there will be Mackenzie. That’s almost enough to make this unplanned visit to Empire worthwhile.
There are clouds gathering overhead and a slight wind as I pause to lock my car and give it a pat.
It was just waxed so the rain will bead up and roll off it.
It will be fine outside for a couple of hours.
I’ll tuck it in back at the townhouse later.
I stroll down to the gates guarded by gold lions, feeling a lot better than I should. A burgundy SUV pulls to a halt just outside the gates and I quicken my step, smiling at the Rhodes Vineyard logo on the side.
Mackenzie. My heart goes thump.
My fingers cross.
Her hair is still down, but it looks sleeker now, glossy and thick.
I don’t know how women do that. Their hair can change with their mood, like magic.
Actually, I don’t care how they do it. I just want to run my fingers through hers.
Even in the shadows inside the car, I can see that she’s wearing a little bit of make-up, a pink lipstick that does shiny magic with her mouth.
She’s wearing perfume too, that elusive scent that I wish hadn’t vanished from my sheets as quickly as it did.
I take a deep breath as I settle in, loving that I read her response correctly.
We both have expectations.
I will deliver.
“You don’t mind if I drive?”
“No, why should I?”
“Some men do.”
“Maybe I’m different.”
She almost laughs. “Maybe you are. I thought you were hesitant to accept earlier.”
“That wasn’t about driving. That was about leaving my car alone.”
“Your one true love?”
“Something like that.” I look at her as she drives. “I owe you an apology.”
“You do not.” She pauses, firing me a glance as she turns toward Empire. “Although maybe I shouldn’t dismiss that idea too quickly.”
We laugh together. It’s easy, but with that tingle of electricity. I can’t help stealing glances at her hands, at her legs, at the curve of her chin or her profile.
I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I’m getting a second chance to get it right – a third, if you’re counting, and I am – and this isn’t an opportunity to be missed.
“There’s something we need to talk about,” Mackenzie says, so serious that it seems like a warning. Have I read her wrong? “We need to agree on it now.”
“Okay.” I’m wary but listening.
She takes a deep breath and exhales hard. “Long story short, I don’t date in Empire. I don’t date at all, actually. Around here, I’m officially celibate.”
With those few words, I get it. “You go to the big city and have a hook-up when you need a little something, far away from gossip and speculation.”
“Yes! Exactly.”
I nod. “So, this can’t be a date.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be anyway. Would it?”
“No. A second indulgence is not the same as launching a relationship.”
I have no time to regret being so blunt before her smile flashes. “Yes!” She shakes her head. “I was worried you were going to get some kind of romantic notion.” Her tone tells me everything I need to know about her view of that.
I want to grin. She’s going to read my own playbook back to me. Could she be any more perfect? “Not me. I am the original hook-up guy.”
“There’s something worrisome about that statement.”
“Is there? If you want something done right, you go to someone who knows what they’re doing. Or am I wrong?”
“No, not wrong.”
“I hope we got it right,” I say very softly and watch her colour rise.
“I thought so, but it won’t hurt to double-check.”
“Won’t hurt a bit. I promise.”
The atmosphere in the car heats up a very acceptable notch.
It starts to rain, big drops landing audibly on the windshield.
Mackenzie continues briskly. “Here’s the story. You’ve come to the vineyard today for a tour and a tasting and to explore your interest in stocking our wines at your business –” she gestures, inviting me to contribute to the story.
“A small chain of boutique restaurants.”
“Excellent,” she says. “And since everything is going so well, I’m taking you to dinner to continue our discussions.”
“I am, after all, staying in the corporate condo.”
“Exactly.” She stops at a stop sign and gives me a fierce look. “And I will be picking up the tab tonight. Don’t even think of reaching for it. We always pay for dinners with potential clients and we always go to this restaurant.”
“Yes, ma’am, Boss Lady Ma’am.” I give her a salute and she drives on, fighting a smile. “I have no problem not paying for dinner.”
“Which is part of the reason you are Mr. Wickham.”
“What? I’m not Wickham…”
Mackenzie laughs. “I suppose I have Abbie to thank for the fact that you get the reference.”
“Abbie? No.”
“Who then? The one who got away? The romantic you dated and disappointed?”
She’s teasing me, but I decide on impulse that I will break my rule about divulging personal details. Mostly it’s because she doesn’t expect me to do that, and I like surprising Mackenzie. It’s only fair, given how often she surprises me.
“The woman I dated and disappointed was the least romantic individual I’ve ever known,” I admit. Mackenzie glances toward me so I continue to keep her from asking. “I know too much about movie adaptations because of my roommates in university.”
“How can that be?” she muses as if she doesn’t expect me to answer. “Your roommates were all women?”
She’s driven back into town and we’re turning around Big Red, the maple tree in the roundabout, to take the road to Havelock. I take a peek at The Carpe Diem Café, which is reasonably busy, then ignore the Maple Leaf Motel, where I was not compelled to stay.
“Eight of us rented a townhouse in third and fourth year. Four guys. Four women. Four bedrooms. Two up with bath; two down with bath. Ladies were on top. Guys in the dungeon.”
Mackenzie smiles at that.
“In the middle was the kitchen and a kind of a family room with a huge television.”
“It must have been crowded.”
“Not too bad. It wasn’t often that all of us were home. At first, on Thursdays, we guys went pub-crawling. We soon discovered there was a movie night happening in our absence, and started to come in earlier.”
“For the popcorn, the movies, or the vicarious thrill of seeing your roommates in pyjamas?”
“A combination of the above. But they picked the movies and an astonishingly high percentage of them were adaptations of Jane Austen novels. Which is why I take exception to being Mr. Wickham.”
“Why? You’re good-looking, well-dressed and charming to women.”
“Are you suggesting that I am blessed with such happy manners as may ensure my making friends—though whether I am equally capable of retaining them is less certain?”
She laughs outright. “You’re good.”
“Two years and I think we saw or heard Pride & Prejudice at least twice a month. There were weekend marathons comparing versions. I probably know every line.”
“Not a bad credential.”