Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
MEYER
With a sigh, I flop against the back of Pippa’s couch.
Beside me, my best friend quirks a brow. “Alright,” she says, “that’s the tenth dramatic sigh in as many minutes. What’s wrong?”
My lips curl into a sneer. “Jackson Vaughan is what’s wrong. His presence in my life. His existence, period.”
What little money I’ve managed to save for retirement is officially being earmarked for bail. Because I’m one self-righteous remark away from wrapping my hands around his pretty boy neck, and not in the fun way.
I knew trying to be business partners with Jackson would be hard, but I didn’t expect to feel so out of control. He’s only been back for a week, but I’m already wishing the six months had passed and Jackson would be returning to the city, tail tucked between his legs.
A futile wish, though, since the powers that be seem hellbent on ignoring me.
Instead, I’m left to suffer. The man rearranged my office. My sanctuary. My mother hadn’t spent much time keeping things orderly when she was in charge, too busy being present with the staff. I followed her lead. Everything had a place, even if that place didn’t make sense to him.
Now, I spend half my days searching for the things I need and letting out a curse of frustration when Jackson tries to explain his theory of organization. I usually tune him out.
Pippa doesn’t react to my outburst. Even wearing mismatched pajamas with her long red hair trapped in a messy bun, she still exudes poise. She may get flustered and blush something fierce from time to time, but she’s self-assured. I envy that.
I pick up another slice of pizza and shove it into my mouth. Even the greasy comfort food from the pie shop downtown can’t erase my bad mood.
Pippa sighs. “What happened this time?”
“He keeps trying to change things,” I reply. I frown as I pick at a piece of pepperoni. “Just because he’s got a fancy MBA and I don’t doesn’t mean he’s better than me.”
All of my insecurities—about failing my mom and running the inn into the ground—gain strength when Jackson talks about optimization strategies and efficient processes.
Well, screw optimization and efficiency. The Ellison Way works just fine, and it will continue to work just fine.
Pippa dropped out of university when she came to Fraisier Creek with Atticus, so she knows all too well what it’s like living in a world that overvalues post-secondary education .
“That’s true.” She nods. “It’s not a matter of one of you being better than the other. You both have your strengths.”
I snort. “Yeah, and his is being a pain in my ass.”
An amused smile crosses Pippa’s lips. “You know, for hating the guy so much, you sure do spend a lot of time discussing him,” she muses. “He’s really all you seem capable of talking about these days.”
“Are you for real?” I say, my voice muffled through my mouthful of food. I swallow. “Pip, he’s everywhere . In my office, at the restaurant. No matter what I do, he’s just there . So I think I have a right to complain.”
She takes a bite of her own slice—smaller, much more graceful than me. As she chews, she contemplates. Unlike me, she doesn’t talk at all until she has swallowed.
“What he’s suggesting… Is it really so bad?”
I cringe, hating the flicker of betrayal I feel. “Not you, too…”
Tears prick my eyes. I will them away, gaze focused on the pizza I suddenly no longer have an appetite for. I toss my half-eaten slice back in the box and wipe my fingers on my pants. They’re black, so at least the grease won’t show.
“Meyer,” Pippa says softly, “don’t shut down on me.”
I sniffle. “Change makes me itchy.”
Pippa’s lips quirk slightly. She places a hand on my knee and gives me the loving mom look she’s perfected for Atticus. And me, I guess. She may only be two months older, but she’s taken to parenting me from time to time.
“I know, babe. But like it or not, you’re not in this alone.”
“I choose not . ”
At this, she laughs. “ Clearly . However, since neither one of you seems keen on walking away, you’re going to have to figure something out. You can’t just veto everything he suggests. Just like he can’t bulldoze his way in and change everything you love about the place.”
I huff, crossing my arms. “Quit saying such reasonable things.”
Deep down, I know Pippa is probably right. Seeing as there isn’t anything I can do— legally , that is—to get rid of Jackson, I’m going to have to learn to live with him for now.
Pippa sets a hand on my arm. “I know it’s hard, but maybe try to meet him halfway. Some kind of middle ground. If he’s the type of guy I suspect he is, he’ll follow you there.”
I raise a suspicious brow. “How would you know what type of guy he is?”
“Because I’ve talked with him. Genuine conversations. Something you should maybe think about doing.”
“You really should be saving all this motherly wisdom for your son, you know,” I say.
She gives my arm a squeeze and then returns to her slice of pizza. “Don’t worry. There is plenty of my smarts to go around.”
I pick up my slice of pizza again. “Alright, enough of my depressing shit. What’s going on in the world of Pippa Rhodes?”
She shrugs. “Nothing new.”
Despite what she says, I know that tone. My eyes narrow. While I tend to overshare between the two of us, Pippa does the opposite. Luckily for her, I’m here to make sure she doesn’t bottle everything up and hurt herself in the process.
Now it’s her turn to deposit a half-eaten slice back into the box. Her shoulders slump. “I got another email from my mom,” she explains. “They want me to come back home.”
It took many months of Pippa living in one of the rooms at the inn when she first arrived for me to coax her story out of her. Even then, I’m sure I don’t know all of it. What I do know is that Pippa and Declan’s parents are pieces of work who don’t deserve their children or their grandson.
“Fuck that! You and Atticus belong in Fraisier Creek. You’re not going anywhere.”
She looks down at her hands. “They blame me for Declan leaving.”
I scoff. “They need to look in the goddamn mirror. Besides, he’s a grown man who can make his own decisions.”
I know Pippa has never regretted leaving home, despite how much her parents try to guilt her into believing it. But when her brother followed in her footsteps and showed up in town with nothing but the clothes on his back, I knew she felt bad. Like it was her fault for showing him a different life was possible when it was really the best gift she could’ve ever given him.
She shivers. “Alright, let’s not talk about them anymore. They’re ruining my appetite for perfectly good pizza.”
For her sake and mine, I change the subject entirely, and we forget about Jackson and her parents for the rest of the night.
I regret eating so much pizza.
Usually, I can put away a good three slices no problem, but tonight, the food sloshes in my stomach with unease. I thought just going to bed would help, but that has only made it worse.
I lie on my back, staring up at my bedroom ceiling. I used to have some of those glow-in-the-dark stars stuck up there, but over the years, they’ve fallen down. All but one. That lonely star sits in the corner, mocking me.
A loud meow shatters the quiet, and then Fish jumps onto my bed. He prowls across the mattress until he climbs on top of me. Despite my protests, he kneads his paws into my boobs, and then he plops all his weight onto my sternum. I let out an oomph .
“I saw you with those lace panties earlier. Did you at least return them?”
It’s dark, but I can just picture his unbothered expression. The simple no to my question.
I begin to stroke his back. Sometimes, he deigns to purr for me. Tonight is not one of those times. Still, he doesn’t leave. He just lets his weight soothe me, little by little.
“Am I a failure, Fish?” I ask. He chirps in response, as if to say yes . “That’s it. No more catnip for you, buddy.”
With a resigned sigh, I close my eyes, and I try again to fall asleep. Instead, my mind continues to race. It’s in the dark, when I’m completely alone, that I contemplate everything.
All I’ve ever wanted is to make my mother proud. To channel all this love I have for the business into something beautiful. When I was a kid, I conjured up grandiose plans of what I would do once the inn was mine one day. Now that that day is here, I’m paralyzed by fear.
How did my mother ever think I would be good enough for this?
After another futile attempt at sleep, I nudge Fish off my chest and then sit up. I grab my phone off my nightstand, the brightness illuminating my face in the otherwise dark room. Good thing I picked it up—it’s nearly dead, and without an alarm clock, it’s my only defence against sleeping in.
I plug my phone into the charger, and then I fire up my trusty search engine. My latest trivial questions feel like a bad omen as I type my new search terms. College business programs .
I spend some time reading about online courses, and an in-person one at the college in Calderville. The forward momentum feels good at first. Exciting.
When I was in my last year of high school, I didn’t spend hours researching universities and colleges like the other students. I knew exactly what I wanted, and what I wanted was the inn.
I stop in my tracks, thumb hovering over my phone screen. Am I really about to change myself because some guy is trying to flex his business prowess? I never saw anything past high school in my future. Not because I thought I couldn’t do it, but because I didn’t want to.
I think it’s really rare to find your place in this world so young. My place, undoubtedly, is the inn. I didn’t want to waste a second of my time with it by going to school. I still don’t.
I slam my phone down on my nightstand harder than necessary. I should care that I’ve maybe cracked the screen, but I’m too keyed up to care about much of anything other than my raging dislike of Jackson Vaughan.
He’s been here for two seconds and he’s already come in swinging, like one of those cranes with a big wrecking ball attached. The only thing standing between him and the impending wreckage is me . My mother trusted me to do right by her. I’m not taking that lightly.
Meet in the middle? Sorry, Pippa. It’s high time I really dig my heels in.
Meyer Ellison is not going down without a fight.