30. Mackenzie
Mackenzie
I thought Jake would stonewall Madison.
But he didn’t. He listened to her. He offered a solution. She’ll have to work to make it succeed, but that’s true of any business. Jake gave her a chance and I’m feeling so proud of him, like we just made magic together. (And did it outside of the bedroom.)
Then Madison almost derails it all.
“But that’s not enough money,” she says and Jake turns a cool gaze upon her, the way a dragon considers the merit of a lunch option. I swear he almost exhales smoke before he replies.
“Isn’t it?” he asks so softly that the hairs prickle on the back of my neck.
Madison, oblivious to his response, charges on.
She could be a reckless knight in very thin armor, charging toward doom with no idea of what will happen.
“Well, if that’s the price for the collection, there’s not enough left to rent a truck to move it all to Empire, let alone to hire a driver or get some storage.
” She lifts her gaze to Jake finally, who is very very still, and the fact that she retreats a step proves that she’s smarter than I’d feared.
“Oh well,” he says. “Want to forget the whole deal?”
“No!”
“Then you’ll have to make it work.”
“But you could help.”
“I just did.”
“But you could…”
He leans closer to her, his voice dropping low. “If I wanted to start a vintage clothing resale business, I would, but I don’t. That’s your dream, which means you’re the one who needs to make it happen.”
Madison’s mouth opens once, then closes again. She very wisely thanks Jake, and we head for the door. Jake beats me to it, opening it for us. “Are you in town tonight?” he asks. “I think I owe you dinner.”
“Do you?” I ask then smile at him. “Not tonight, though. We’re headed back to Empire.”
“Drive carefully,” he says as if it doesn’t matter. I can read him better now, though. I know he’s disappointed. Why? Because he wanted sex? Well, so do I. Maybe he wanted to talk about Madison. Maybe he wanted to talk to me.
But I have a quick sales call to make and a long drive ahead of me before girls’ night at the Carpe Diem Café. Having Madison with me means I can’t revise the plan.
No matter how much I’m tempted.
I give Madison a nudge and she thanks Jake again.
“Why does he have to be such a hard ass?” Madison grumbles once we’re in the elevator.
“Maybe because nobody ever gave him a hand up.”
She turns to look at me.
“He loaned you a good sum of money at fair terms,” I remind her.
She blinks, then inhales sharply. “You’re on his side.”
“I think he did a really nice thing today, even if he was a bit surly about it.”
“You like him.”
“I respect him. The things he said to you were probably the kinds of things your dad said to him. We tend to parrot our parents.”
“Well, Dad must have bought Jake a car.”
“I don’t think so.”
“And paid his university tuition.”
“I don’t think so.”
“And given him spending money.”
“Is that what you remember?”
She frowns as the doors open at the ground floor. “No, it isn’t. I remember Jake having a lot of part-time jobs. I remember him being out a lot, missing meals. And I remember that he never came home from university, not even for Christmas.”
I nod and point in the direction of the parking garage. We drive in silence to my appointment. She waits in the car and is mucking with her phone when I get back about forty minutes later. I take off my jacket and slide back behind the wheel.
I need to establish détente before this long drive. “You were right about the shirt,” I admit. Even my client admired the color on me. “I don’t think very much about clothes.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“You have really good bones and an athletic build. You could wear pretty much anything. You could be a cover model. You have that classic look. But you don’t always look as good as you can and that has to be because you’re not interested in clothes.”
“White shirt vs. green shirt.”
She nods.
She has shaken me on the shirt thing, actually. And whenever I know I can do better, I want to. It’s just how I am.
“I wear things that feel good, but it’s true that some things make me feel better than others.”
“Of course.”
I navigate our way to the highway and into the express lanes. It’s not as busy as I’d suspected it might be, but the traffic still demands my attention. Gives me time to think, too.
When we get to Milton, the traffic loosens up and I dive back into the conversation.
“My mom never went shopping for clothes,” I admit. “There used to be a Hudson’s Bay store at the mall in Havelock and there was a woman working there who used to run a boutique. When she went to work at the Bay, she kept her selling strategy.”
I have Madison’s interest now. “Which was?”
“She had a box of index cards, one for each of her regular customers. It listed their size and colouring, what clothes they’d bought from her and what gaps they had in their wardrobe.
And when she got a delivery, she’d go through those cards and matchmake.
Then she’d call people. My mom would hear from her and learn that there was a new suit from some brand that she liked and that this woman would put one aside in her size if my mom liked.
She’d always have shoes and blouses and whatever matched up with it, so my mom would spend maybe fifteen minutes there.
She’d try something on, cherry-pick through the selections reserved for her, put down her credit card and carry on. ”
“That’s brilliant,” Madison says softly.
“My mom always looked great. She always had the right thing to wear, and this woman earned her commission.”
Madison has her phone out again. “There has to be an app I could use for that,” she says.
“Well, first you need some regular customers,” I say and she looks up again. “What would you charge to go through my wardrobe and pick my good matches and less-good ones?”
“Like your wardrobe consultant?”
“Maybe just a one-time consult, then you could call me if you had anything that fit the gaps in my wardrobe.”
There’s silence that makes me wonder, but when I glance over, Madison is grinning as if she’s won the lottery.
“My wardrobe consultations are five hundred dollars,” she says, with no shortage of confidence in her abilities. “I’ll do yours for half-price if you give me a referral.”
I shake a finger at her, smiling myself. “That’s what Jake was talking about. You’re on.”
She laughs and is charming the rest of the way back to Empire, which I guess is how it shakes out when you give someone an idea of how to achieve their dreams.
I’m wondering what will be tagged for departure besides the white shirts.
The others are already at the bistro when I arrive because I’m late but no one comments.
I’m often late. I work a lot. They’re used to it.
The bistro is already closed and Sylvia has joined the table with Daphne, Cameron and Willow.
Frilly drinks have been served. Merrie is bringing an antipasto tray that has to be four feet long and as soon as she sets it down, everyone dives in.
I go to the bar, find a bottle of our Sauvignon Blanc that’s open and pour myself a glass. I settle in at the table like I’m not wishing I’d figured out a way to stay in Toronto and spend the evening with Jake. Instead, I sip and smile.
It’s like it’s destined to be. Someone mentions Jake and I pretend to be indifferent, listening avidly all the while.
“They say he’s an asshole,” Merrie says, inviting contributions from everyone else.
Sylvia nods agreement but no one else contributes.
“That’s certainly his party line,” I say.
“You remember him?” Willow asks.
“Sure. Don’t you?”
“Not really,” she says and smiles. “Random gorgeous Cavendish crown prince. There were so many of them.”
They all laugh.
“He’d be the first to tell you that he’s an asshole,” Sylvia says.
“I don’t remember him much from high school, but he’s told me as much twice this month.
” Sylvia is, of course, in love with Jake’s younger brother, Mike.
They’ve gotten back together since her return to Empire and wedding bells are ringing, much to the satisfaction of their daughter, Sierra.
Everyone nods wisely and eats prosciutto.
I turn to Cameron. “Have you ever slept with an asshole?”
“Oh yeah,” she says, then sighs. “Way too many times.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re invariably gorgeous and I am a sucker for a square jaw and a tight butt.”
“Ruggedly handsome,” Willow agrees.
“That little knowing smile,” Merrie says.
“The way their eyes kind of glow with what might be appreciation,” I say and everyone nods.
“And so, I get seduced by appearances and fall into the trap,” Cameron says. “One day I’ve got to live and learn.”
“And what’s it like?” I ask. She looks up. “Sleeping with an asshole?”
“Well, it sucks, of course. Because they’re always self-absorbed. You never end up having an orgasm unless you take care of it yourself after he’s passed out.”
“Nice guys for the win,” Sylvia says and Daphne gives her a high five.
I’m not interested in their domestic bliss. “Every time?” I ask Cameron.
She winces. “Every time.”
I take a drink of my wine. One of the mysteries of the universe has just been solved for me: I know why I’m sure that Jake isn’t really an asshole.
“You see, that’s the thing. Jake Cavendish is supposed to be an asshole.
He’ll tell you so himself, without any encouragement.
But he is awesome in bed. It doesn’t tally that someone who is completely self-absorbed would be an amazing lover. ”
There is a beat of silence.
Okay, maybe six or eight beats.
Then Cameron leans forward. “You’re sleeping with Jake Cavendish.”
“We haven’t slept much actually.” I take an olive and toss it back.
Merrie smiles. “You are doing Jake Cavendish and it’s good.”
“More than good. Possibly best ever.” I take a breath, then decide not to elaborate on that. “It’s good,” I say. “Very good.”
“That’s who you were talking about,” Merrie concludes triumphantly.
I nod.
“I think we need a second opinion,” Cameron says. “I think you should give me his number.”
“Mackenzie,” Daphne says, giving me a look. “What’s really going on there?”
“Why are you telling us this?” Cameron says with a nod of agreement. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“No! I just don’t know what to do with this. It’s awesome. He’s great. He’s thoughtful. He listens. I criticize what he’s done and he changes his plan.”
“You,” Merrie whispers. “It was because of you that he helped Candace.”
I nod. “And Madison, too, now.” I have to tell them the Madison story, which they agree is one that makes Jake look good.
“We agreed that it would be just sex, but I want more. All the time, I just want more. It’s all I can think about.
He’s all I can think about.” I toss back the rest of my glass of wine and don’t even taste it.
“He insists that’s impossible, so I don’t know what to do. ”
“Sounds like love,” Merrie says.
“It can’t be,” I protest, although my heart isn’t really in it. I think she’s right, actually, but give my standard excuse. “I don’t have time to fall in love.”
“I didn’t know you had to put it on your schedule,” Sylvia says with a smile.
“Is that the trick?” Cameron asks. “I have to write it in? Fall in love: Tuesday four p.m.”
“This isn’t a joke,” I say and they all pretend to be solemn.
“No, of course not.”
“Not amusing at all.”
“Even if Mackenzie is the single-forever one-and-done queen.”
“Even if Jake Cavendish is an asshole.”
And they laugh. They laugh and Merrie tops up my glass and Sylvia insists that I eat something and Cameron asks again for Jake’s number.
“You’ve got it bad?” Willow asks in an undertone and I can only nod agreement.
“Really bad,” I say and she gives me a hug.
“What about him?” Sylvia asks. “Is it reciprocal?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I can’t even guess.” I think for a minute. “Sometimes I think it is mutual, but he has never admitted to that. He says we’re done.”
“And that would be the problem,” Merrie concludes, then fills my glass.
“You need a plan,” Cameron says.
“I don’t have a plan. I was giving him time and space.”
“Maybe we should ask him to the wedding,” Daphne says, looking mischievous.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” Sylvia agrees. “Lots of people get together at weddings.” She smiles at me. “Mike and I are going with Sierra. You can hang out with us if Jake gives you the cold shoulder.”
I’m loving just the possibility of seeing Jake again in less than two weeks.
“Tell me that you have the perfect thing to wear,” Cameron says, leaning across the table.
I think of Madison and smile. “I don’t. Not yet. But I will.”
There are cheers around the table, another round of drinks, then Daphne is asked about the wedding plans.
Jake at the wedding. In a suit. The idea has definite possibilities and it certainly makes me smile.