17. Jake
Jake
I cannot sleep.
There is nothing like having someone else want what you were previously certain you didn’t want to change your view. Hmm. Mr. Collins said something along those lines, which isn’t the most reassuring thought I could have had.
It doesn’t help that my condo is filled with the detritus from my father’s office.
I don’t have a dining room table. I use that space for my weights instead.
Right now, a big empty table would be an asset.
I’ve been sorting my stacks again, but this time, they’re on the kitchen counter and lined up across my leather couch.
They’re on my coffee table. They’re on the windowsills.
I feel as if my home as well as my life have been invaded by my father and I don’t like it.
I wish I was with Mackenzie.
I know that’s stupid, but I can’t stop wishing it anyway.
I should have nicked the pillow from the townhouse, the one that smelled of her perfume.
I have a restless night, replaying Mackenzie’s words and the sound of her voice. She sounded sleepy and that made the conversation feel intimate. Was she in bed? What does she wear to bed? I could picture her sleeping nude, or in an old T-shirt, or in every kind of feminine lingerie.
Aside from those fantasies, I do think about her advice. I realize that Candace must be terrified by the implications of my father’s death and I know I haven’t helped. I write a whole script in my head, type it out in the morning, then end up ad-libbing it anyway when I call.
Candace is not thrilled to hear from me, but she listens. That tells me Mackenzie was right that my stepmother is without allies in this battle – in addition to not having a map or any idea what she should do.
“I’ll come down and go to the bank with you,” I say, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s the branch in Havelock, right? Can you make an appointment for late Friday morning?”
“What should I wear?” Candace asks before I even think of that.
“Well, you need to look businesslike, but not too official.”
“My stylist laid out a black suit for me for the funeral, but I have the same one in navy, as well. She said closed toe pumps and light stockings, gloves and a hat.”
The last thing I’m thinking about is whether she should wear a hat or not, but maybe we’re each bringing our expertise to the situation.
“I don’t think you need the gloves and hat, but that suit sounds like a good choice.” I’m flying without instruments here, because I can’t imagine what kind of suit she has. “Do you know the bank manager?”
“Mr. Innes. Yes. He’s very pleasant. He always gave Patrick a Christmas present. He’d call and I’d go and have a coffee with him and pick it up each year.”
“Okay, that’s good. It’s easier to do business with people you know already. Can you make the appointment with him?”
“What do I say?”
“That we need to make arrangements for your financial future.”
I hear her writing that down. There’s a long pause before she finally speaks. “Is it going to be awful, Jacob?”
“No, but it’s not going to be a celebration either. We’ll open a bank account for you and transfer some money to it from the estate, then ask for a credit card in your own name. You don’t have a job or a credit rating, but I think they’ll approve you for one.”
“Oh, good!”
“It will have a low threshold, Candace. Maybe only five hundred dollars.”
“Per transaction?”
“Per month. And you can’t exceed that. You need to use the card and pay the balance on time every month to build their trust in you.”
“Five hundred dollars.” She’s incredulous.
“A lot of people do this when they’re eighteen or so. I did.”
“I never had my own bank account,” she confesses. “Mine was joint with my father until I married Keith, then our accounts were joint. We were still finalizing the divorce when I met your father.”
“And you became joint on his accounts.”
“He was so generous, Jake. He made it so easy for me. Patrick told me not to worry, that I never had to worry…” She starts to cry and I almost squirm. “I miss him so much,” she adds then chokes a little.
“I know you can do this, Candace. It’s different but it’s not that hard. You’ll see.”
“Okay.” She gulps a great choking sob. “Okay, Jacob. Thank you.”
I still feel like a jerk when I hang up, but maybe a bit less of one than before. I book the Rhodes townhouse for Thursday and Friday night. The code does work, but that doesn’t feel celebratory when there’s no chance of seeing Mackenzie.
A handsome, rich, fit vintner who is looking to get married and has been cleared for landing by Mackenzie’s own mom.
I don’t even know his name and I hate him already.
Despite all predictions and intentions to the contrary, I am back in Empire in less than a week. I pick up Candace at the house, as planned on Friday morning, and can’t hide my surprise. She looks fabulous. Elegant, expensive and probably ten years younger than I know she has to be.
She’s watching me when I come around to open the passenger door. “Is it all right?”
“It’s perfect, Candace. Absolutely perfect. You look great.” I am not shitting her. I am blown away.
“You look nice, too, Jacob.”
She smiles in relief and gets in, her agitation clear as I drive to the bank.
The bank manager, Mr. Innes, proves to be an older man.
Whatever magic Candace has, it works for him.
He fusses over her, offers his condolences, straightens her chair and ensures she has her coffee exactly how she wants it.
I know he’s married because of the ring on his finger, but Candace flutters in a very feminine and fragile way, and Mr. Innes rushes to her defense.
Instinctively. It’s impressive to watch.
Before we even have the account open, he’s practically eating out of her hand.
Bank policy is the only thing that will stop him cold and it does. I transfer the money over and we fill out the forms, then he hesitates, obviously dreading the delivery of bad news.
I hear Mackenzie reminding me to be kind.
“I know that it’s uncommon to offer credit to someone who doesn’t have a regular paycheque or access to cash reserves,” I say smoothly.
Candace looks up at me, clearly wondering.
“I will, of course, be the guarantor on my stepmother’s new account.
” Candace’s expression is briefly awed, while Mr. Innes beams with delight.
“That is very generous of you, Mr. Cavendish. I’m sure that’s all the assurance that we need.” He happily completes the paperwork. He’s thrilled that he could do what she wanted, and I’m just the great facilitator.
Maybe the kind one.
“I won’t let you down, Jacob,” Candace says.
“Of course, you won’t. You’ll keep your balance under the threshold and you’ll pay it on time every month. You could even visit Mr. Innes to do that.”
“I would be delighted to assist you in any way possible, Mrs. Cavendish.”
In an Austen book, he would declare himself to be her servant, but that’s a bit much to ask in these days.
“Jacob!” she says when we’re in the car again. She seizes my arm in her delight. “You did it. Thank you!”
“It’s a pretty low threshold, Candace, but maybe they’ll increase it soon if you do everything right.”
“I won’t use it at all.”
“No. You have to use it. You have to charge between four and five hundred dollars every month, then you have to pay it off on time. All the bills for the house are coming to me now. You’ll only get this one, and you’ll pay it out of your chequing account.”
“But what happens when there’s no money in it?”
“I’ll make sure there is. That’s why Mr. Innes made your account joint with me. I can add funds, if necessary.”
She blinks back tears and catches her breath. “I’ll do it right, Jacob. I will.”
“Then maybe ask Mr. Innes to raise the threshold for your Christmas shopping.”
“Oh, Jacob, I’m so excited.” She’s clutching her new credit card, which is a temporary one. I can’t imagine how thrilled she’ll be when the one with her name arrives in the mail. “I could never have done this without you.”
“Come on. It wasn’t hard.”
“But I wouldn’t have known what to ask. Thank you!”
Something about the spirit of kindness is infectious in a way. I was planning to just drop her off, then go to the greenhouse to meet Mike, but now I have a better idea. “Tell you what. Let’s go for lunch to celebrate. Think they can fit us in at The Carpe Diem Café without a reservation?”
“I hope so,” she huffs. “I’ve spent a fortune at that place already.”
I grin and take the turn toward downtown Empire.
“But wait,” Candace says. “I’m buying you lunch, with my new credit card.”
“Remember he said the tap wouldn’t work today. You’ll have to punch in your PIN.”
“Oh, I remember that.” She laughs and I can see why some men are fascinated by Candace.
When she turns on the charm – and I don’t know how deliberate a choice that is – it’s easy to feel special, and honored to be in her presence.
I’m not my father or Mr. Innes, but I have a new understanding of her ability to stir some chivalrous impulse to life, no matter how hard it’s sleeping.
God knows, mine’s nearly dead and she’s revived it.
I’ll give her cash after lunch to cover it, so she’s not using her very small amount of credit on me. A month can feel like a long time, and I want her to succeed at this.
It’s not just because she’ll be my responsibility forever otherwise.
It’s just kind.
After a good lunch, I’ll head to the greenhouses and another strategy meeting with Mike, then go home in the morning. I’ll be spending the weekend trying to make the math work for my new plan, the one that might give my siblings and my stepmother some legacy instead of none at all.
Maybe being kind is what will change my luck.