Chapter 11
11
brAD
Flipping the bird to the security camera now that I knew Malcolm would see it, I unlocked the door to my apartment and trudged upstairs. Two days ago, I’d walked out of the meeting with the loan officer more confused than when I’d gone in. The damned tie I’d worn had been loosened and tossed in the back of my truck before I’d even driven out of the parking lot. I’d tugged at the little buttons at my collar so hard one popped off, pinging across the dashboard, never to be seen again.
I’d spent nearly days and days over the past month working with Ellie on that damned business proposal, working with the numbers Molly had supplied, coming up with valuations, a marketing strategy and a risk analysis. I would never have been able to write it without Ellie’s help, but even as I’d placed the plan in a briefcase she’d loaned me, she’d been worried about the valuation John had provided. From the frown the loan officer had given me, I was afraid she was right.
When it came to climbing a tree, spotting disease or potential problems, I was aces. But some of those reports the bank had requested gave me the sweats.
Which reminded me, I really needed to shower before Chloe arrived. I’d fucked it up with Chloe. For the last ten days, I’d spent all my spare time with Ellie or with her brother Josh, an accountant who ran numbers for me. I’d seen the hurt in Chloe’s eyes when I kept putting off her requests to come over, or for me to come home with her after work. But John had been adamant that I not mention anything about him wanting to retire, or me trying to buy him out. Plus, I’d needed to focus on saving the business. Saving not only Chloe’s job but Chip’s, and Finn’s, and Blair’s and all the other guys too.
The water was running cold before I turned off the shower. I toweled myself dry as if the towel were sandpaper and my skin roughened wood. Even from the bathroom, I froze in place when my phone chirped from where I’d left it on my dresser.
Please let it be a text message, not a reply from the bank already.
Surely the loan officer would take longer to make his decision. I walked to the dresser, not caring about the puddles I left in my wake, picked up my phone and saw the little red symbol over the email app icon. I opened the app, and saw it was indeed an email from the loan officer. Another click and the email expanded, and I didn’t even need to read past the first sentence.
Fuck. They hadn’t approved my loan. I lowered my phone and swore loud and long. As tempting as it was, I barely managed to stop myself from tossing my phone into the wall.
I’d failed. Not just my own ambitions, but everyone at PRP.
Blowing out a breath, I reread the email. There were a few paragraphs of explanation that I’d have to get Ellie or Josh to explain, but there was no misunderstanding the “thank you for your interest, but at this time we don’t think your business plan is strong enough” sentence in that first paragraph.
Now what did I do? If I couldn’t buy John out, he’d sell to that damned firm who would take our equipment and lay off everyone.
I’d finished drying off and was now dressed in a dress shirt and pair of slacks Chloe had given a thumbs up to before I picked up my phone and read the email yet again. I was rereading it, and still not understanding some of the terms, for the third time when the doorbell rang. Moments later the door opened followed by Chloe’s sexy, “Hey, hot stuff, you decent up there?”
“Be right down.” I put down my phone with controlled fury, or maybe it was just major disappointment, I hadn’t figured it out yet. I headed to the stairs to meet her downstairs, only to hear her footsteps halfway up. Shoot, I needed to get myself under control. I didn’t want Chloe to see my disappointment or my despair. Except she was already opening the door at the top of the stairs, so I forced myself to smile, figuring it probably looked like I was about to be sick.
Then I stopped short as she walked into the room and dropped her purse on the kitchen table.
“Wow.” The word slipped from my lips in a heavy exhale—her hair was up in some soft do, her make-up accentuated her cheekbones and eyes. As promised, she wore that yellow sundress I’d teased her about the last time I’d stayed over at her place. I let my eyes trail down the skirt, to her calves and ankles, and down to her bare feet stuck into a pair of sandals, her toenails painted in a black and red swirl pattern that reminded me of some of the art up on the island reserve.
“Wow,” I repeated.
She glanced down at herself in confusion. “What’s wrong? Is it too casual? You said it’s a garden party, right? Should I go home and change?”
“No, your outfit’s fine.” I cupped her cheeks between my palms. “I’m used to seeing you in overalls. Seeing you all dolled up like this? I’m not sure I’m going to let you out of this apartment without ripping that dress off you and having my way with you.”
One elegantly sculpted eyebrow arched up. “My overalls didn’t stop you from stripping me naked last time you came over to my place.”
My body heated at the memories of her, totally and gloriously naked, as she arched over me and took me into her body. I breathed, “Clothed or naked, you’re gorgeous.”
“You’re only saying that so I’ll come back up here with you tonight.”
I laced my fingers with hers and headed downstairs. “Wasn’t that already in the plans?”
Her husky laugh filled the stairwell, and my shoulders loosened.
“Hey,” she said softly when we reached the courtyard. “Are you okay?”
Shit, guess I hadn’t hidden my emotions as well as I’d thought. “I got an email I need to digest for a bit, but yeah, I’m fine.”
Chloe stepped in front of me to stop me from heading around the house to where the party had already started. “Fine, huh? Is that the acronym version of FINE?”
“Huh?”
“You know, fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional?” The laughter that had been in her eyes dulled. “You’re not okay. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I was not going to get into this now. I needed to stay upbeat when meeting Ellie’s friends. “Seriously. I’m fine. Leave it be, okay?”
She stepped back, only a half step, but something in her expression told me this was far from over. “Fine.”
Her lips pressed together, she dropped my hand, turned around, and marched toward the back yard. Her tone and the way she wouldn’t look at me again told me her fine didn’t follow her acronym.
Fuck. I scrubbed my hands over my face, took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and followed her.
The tension between us eased over the evening, to my relief. I introduced Chloe to the people I knew, and Malcolm and Ellie took care of introducing her to those I didn’t. I was on my second craft beer that turned out not to be too bad, devoured far too many pastries, and stood chatting with Chloe’s cousin Nick, Malcolm, and Ellie’s brother Josh, barely following the conversation about… what were we talking about? Oh right, baseball and Nick’s friend Dante Wood who played with one of the Texas teams everyone expected to take the pennant this year, maybe go all the way to the World Series. Then someone mentioned the Maple Leafs’ chances in the upcoming seasons, and I zoned out.
As the chatter floated around me, I watched Chloe work her way through the backyard, laughing with a group of people, touching a hand or a shoulder, or giving a hug to an older lady.
I found my attention drawn away from her when Malcolm shoved my shoulder. “You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you, doofus?”
“You were talking about hockey. It’s boring. Talk about trees, and I’ll talk your ear off,” I countered as someone called to Malcolm and he wandered away.
“Philistine!” Nick snorted, picking up on the conversation. “Do you even watch hockey, big guy?”
“Sure. That’s the game where they throw a big rock down the rink, right?” I didn’t like the game, mainly because I was a crap skater, but my parents had thought it necessary for my upbringing to learn how to work as a team by enrolling me in hockey in the winter and soccer in the summer. I didn’t mention I preferred bowling over hockey. Why open myself up to more ribbing?
“Hey,” Josh added, hooking a thumb in my direction, “Brad here was our high school’s champion wrestler. He’d have you on the ground and flattened in a count of ten.”
“Colour me warned,” Nick said, raising his beer bottle to me in a salute. He glanced over his shoulder when Malcolm called to him, gave his apologies and left me alone with Josh. Who led me away from the crowd, to the back porch by the kitchen.
“Have you heard back from the bank about your loan?”
I nodded in answer, swallowing hard to utter, “Yup. They said no.”
“Shit. Sorry, man. Did they say why?”
“Something about the valuation being off. They’re also not happy with the cash I have on hand.” There’d been other stuff, too, but my brain hadn’t processed all yet. “Maybe it was because I need more collateral? Or if I sold my truck and bought something cheaper, they’d reconsider?” It wasn't as if my truck was worth all that much in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps I'd misunderstood that part.
“Did they give you a number they figured you’d need?”
I rhymed off the amount the loan officer had mentioned in our conversation.
Josh whistled softly. “Yikes.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“You got any rich relatives you can hit up?”
I nearly spat the beer I’d just taken a swig of, managing to turn my head so it wouldn’t spray Josh. “Yeah, no. We’re the rich ones in the family according to my uncle. While my parents have paid off their mortgage, I’m not about to ask them to go into debt for me, thank you very much.”
He swiped one arm with the other, guess I’d hit him after all. “Most business plans take a lot longer to put together and while Ellie’s a miracle worker, maybe you need to do some more research. Write up a new proposal and try again.”
I grimaced. “Business proposals aren’t my strong suit. That’s why I hired Ellie to write one for me.”
He shrugged. “She’s good at what she does. Maybe there’s something wrong with the business on John’s end that you don’t know about? Maybe the client list hasn’t been cleaned in a while, or they fudged the numbers somehow?”
“Could be. I don’t know. I have no idea how I’d find out.” I blew out a breath and leaned against the railing that creaked in protest of my weight. While I'd never thought of John as a dishonest person, I could easily see him not telling me things he didn't want me to know. “The other company is just buying PRP for the equipment. They figure they can service the area with the crews they have on hand, and plan on laying off all our teams.”
“Did John know that when they made the offer?”
“Yup. That’s why he gave me first chance at buying him out.” And now I’d failed, not just myself, but the teams too.
Josh sipped his wine and stared across the lawn before saying, “You could always try a different bank. There’s more than one in town.”
“Maybe.” I doubted any other reputable financial firm would be any different. Unless I was willing to pay mob rates. “I guess I’ve gotta face facts. I climb trees for a living. I don’t know shit about hiring people or keeping them happy. I don’t know how to find customers or any of the front-office stuff Molly looks after. Hell, one of our newbies mouthed off in front of a client the other day and John fired him instead of me. It should have been my responsibility.”
“So you’d find yourself an office manager who knows that side of the business.”
“That’s not going to happen if I can’t afford to buy John out.” I finished my beer and glanced around to find Chloe. Who wasn’t in the back yard. “Hey, you seen Chloe anywhere?”
Josh shook his head. “Ask Ellie. Maybe she knows. They were laughing about something earlier.”
I asked Ellie who said Chloe had wandered off a while ago, but maybe she’d gone to the bathroom? I checked the main floor bathroom in Ellie’s place first. Checked the rest of the house too. No Chloe. I dashed up the stairs to my apartment. No Chloe. I paused. Not only was Chloe not here, but neither was her purse where she’d left it. Had she left without telling me? Why?
CHLOE
I’d been nervous about hanging out with Ellie and Malcolm’s friends. While Malcolm’s friends were mainly blue-collar workers like himself, Ellie’s friends were the type who had the means to hire Malcolm. The type of people who could afford the gorgeous Victorian home Ellie had inherited. People who had TFSAs and RIFs with lots and lots of zeroes, and dealt with the financial advisors at the banks, or the truly wealthy, money managers from Bay Street. Including a few lawyers who might be familiar with my ex-husband’s name. Maybe even mine since it had been splashed around as his wife. All I could hope was reverting to my maiden name had helped distance me from the scumbag.
But they’d all been lovely and gracious. Except for one older woman, who’d snapped her fingers at me and demanded I get her a drink as if I were the hired help. I would have responded, but I had no idea who the woman was in relation to Ellie or Malcolm. Instead of making a scene, I’d smiled at her, nodded and walked away, snapping mental comebacks.
But I sure didn’t get her a drink.
I found myself in the front of the house, tempted to walk all the way home. Except I wouldn’t give that woman the satisfaction of scaring me away, nor of leaving Brad before I found out what was bothering him, because something definitely had upset him right before I’d arrived.
I let myself in through the front door, nodded to a few guests in the living room, taking refuge from the heat, found the downstairs bathroom and used the facilities. I lingered, debating splashing cool water over my face to cool myself down. Except I’d spent ages getting my make-up just right and splashing it with water would end up with me looking a racoon after an all-night binge of the street’s recycling bins.
All right, I could do this. I’d worked retail. I'd flattered board members, mayors, and city clients. I knew how to feign politeness, and plastered on a fake smile.
I stopped in the kitchen to grab a glass of water when voices drifted in off the porch.
“Have you heard back from the bank about your loan?”
I recognized the voice as Josh Mason, Ellie’s brother, because he was my parents’ accountant.
Brad’s gruff, “Yup. They said no” had me freezing in place.
Brad had gone for a loan and he’d been turned down?
He hadn’t told me he was planning on buying anything. He hadn’t told me about needing a loan. Or that he’d been turned down. Why? Did he have a poor credit record? Did he already owe too much money?
I knew what he made per hour—that had been the topic of discussion amongst the B Team the first week I’d been transferred to them. I eased toward the back door which had been left open, but to the side so I could hear them but they couldn’t see me. Eavesdropping is not a good habit, but if Brad was in debt and hiding it from me, I needed to know before we got any deeper into our relationship.
“Sorry, man. Did they say why?”
“That my…”
“Phew, it’s hot out there, isn’t it?” Maureen Mason, an older woman in a smart summer-weight suit who was an older copy of Ellie, wandered into the kitchen, opened a cupboard and grabbed a water glass.
“It’s not the heat,” I murmured, “it’s the?—”
“—humidity,” she finished with a bright smile. “Still feels as hot as a witch’s britches.”
While Maureen sipped her water, I eased closer to the door so I wouldn’t miss any of Brad and Josh’s conversation.
“…much would you need?”
I gasped at the number Brad recited, clapping my hand over my mouth. He needed that much?
Maureen lowered the glass and stared at me. “Is something wrong, Chloe?”
I lowered my hand and tried to fake nonchalance. “No. I’m fine.”
“Honey, you’ve turned white as a snow. Do you have blood sugar problems? Or did something scare you?”
Scare me? Was I scared? No, more like enraged. I’d just discovered Brad had applied for a large bank loan for reasons unknown. And, worse, had been turned down. It took everything in me to stay in that kitchen, to not march out on the porch and demand to know why he needed such a large sum. Was he planning on buying a mansion? If so, why did the bank turn him down? Was his credit rating that bad? Did he have debts I didn’t know about?
Shoot, get yourself under control, girl! I’d been dating Brad just over a month, almost two. I hadn’t told him how big my legal bills had been, so why should I expect he owed me any type of explanation?
Except I didn’t want to get in with another guy who might run out and leave me with yet another mound of debt. Not again. Ever.
“You could always try a different bank. There’s more than one in town.”
Panic welled up in me at Josh’s suggestion. Mumbling some sort of excuse even I didn’t understand, I half ran to the front door, about to leave the house entirely when I remembered I’d left my purse—and my apartment keys—in Brad’s apartment. I thanked my luck that there was no sign of Josh or Brad on the veranda when I reached the coach house door. I retrieved my purse, hurried down the side of the house, and left.
I was halfway home when I realized I should have made some sort of excuse for leaving, not only to Brad but Ellie and Malcolm. My knee-jerk reaction might be branded immature by some. Including me. But I needed to think, by myself. Away from a group of strangers. Away from Brad.
Brad phoned me minutes after I’d arrived home. I stammered out some bullcrap about having a headache and how I needed to lie down and try to sleep it off.
It was a lame excuse, but I hadn’t figured out what to say on the short walk back. I hadn’t figured out how to handle the whole situation. I felt like a teenager again, trying to decide if I’d hooked up with the bad boy who…Brad wasn’t a bad boy, but maybe bad with money?
Brad offered to come over, but I told him to stay and enjoy the party.
He’d phoned Saturday, asking about my headache. He was so concerned that I wanted to yell at him.
He phoned Sunday too, but by then, I was so in my head with convoluted reasons about his needing a loan, about his finances, I couldn’t think straight and knew I’d blow things from something probably small to huge, and now I didn’t feel like I could get out of this muddle well enough to take it with him. Instead, I’d told him I was spending the day with my folks—not a lie, but they would have happily invited Brad to join us.
I didn’t see him at work on Monday, which disappointed me. Yeah, I’m fickle, aren’t I?
Late Tuesday afternoon, as Blair pulled the B Team truck into the work yard, Blair side-eyed me when I muttered, “Shoot.”
“What’s wrong?”
I could hardly tell him Brad had beaten us back, and was probably already in the work shed sharpening and cleaning his tools. Since his bench was beside ours, I couldn’t avoid him. Nor should I. Except, I still hadn’t figured out what to say. Or what outcome I wanted. Instead, I lied. “I forgot I promised to visit a friend after work, but with this heat, I’m in desperate need of a shower first.” I even lifted my arm and sniffed myself with a grimace. Ick, I did need a shower.
He snorted. “Don’t we all?”
I held back as we unloaded the tools from the truck, trailing Blair, hoping I could hide behind him, that Brad might not see me. Except I was about three inches taller than Blair so…yeah, that was a stupid thought.
Because, yes, Brad’s attention was completely on me from the moment I walked through the door until I placed the tools on the work table. When he’d done that last week, I found my body heating under his gaze, but today? I wanted to wilt, to hunch my shoulders. And to demand he tell me why he needed a six-figure loan. Which, I kept telling myself, was none of my business.
“Hey, can we talk?”
I jumped at Brad’s soft question, and realized he was directly beside me with Blair nowhere to be seen. When had Blair left? Where had he gone? How hadn’t I noticed him leaving?
Okay, Chloe, time for the big-girl panties. I squared my shoulders and faced Brad.
Taking my change of stance as agreement, he asked, “I know I haven’t been around much the last couple of weeks. I have a reason, and I’d like to explain it to you. If you’ll give me a chance. I couldn’t talk about it before.”
I opened my mouth to reply, then stopped. The carefully considered, erudite speech I’d prepared at one in the morning turned to gibberish in my mouth. I reminded myself his finances were none of my business, reminded myself that we hadn’t been dating that long and he didn’t owe me any explanations, reminded myself that while I enjoyed dating him, curling up on the couch with him in the evenings, and holy moly did I ever love making love to him, that we weren’t a committed couple. Reminded myself that after my marriage to Tony had collapsed, I’d promised myself not to get involved with a man who wasn’t completely honest about his finances.
He’d done nothing wrong, yet here he was apologizing to me.
“I owe you an apology about Friday night.”
Confusion filled his expression. “You said you had a headache. Why would you need to apologize for that?”
Why I had I run from him? Except I hadn’t been running from him, had I? I’d been running from my own fears. “It’s complicated.”
He blew out a breath in frustration. “Life is complicated. But I’m trying to uncomplicate things between us.”
A movement beyond him caught my attention. We were gathering an audience. With a tilt of my head toward the growing group of co-workers, I murmured, “Not here. Down at Perry Beach at…8:00?”
That would give me time to have a shower, makes some notes in case my mouth and brain failed me again. I didn’t want to hurt Brad. He was a good guy, even if he was bad with his finances. A lot of women wouldn’t even bat an eye, but after dealing with the debt Tony left me with? It freaked me out.
“Perry Beach?” His eyes narrowed. “It sounds like you’re wanting neutral ground.”
Which I guess I was.
“It’s too freaking hot out. The beaches on that side of the lake are usually ten degrees cooler than they are on this side.” My apartment had a window air conditioner, but only in the bedroom, and there was no way I would be able to have this conversation there. “But if you want to call it neutral ground, sure.”
He moved closer, a half step, whispering, “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind about us. Tell me you’ll give me a chance. Hear me out.”
To my shame, I took a full step back. “I’ll be at Perry Beach at 8:00. It’s up to you if you want to meet me there or not.”
My eyes filling with tears, not in anger at him for keeping secrets, for needing money, but at myself. I walked out of the work shed, climbed into my truck, and drove out of the yard.