Chapter 16
STONE
The clatter of dishes and pots and pans mixes with the sounds of conversation and laughter as my mother and I spend Thanksgiving the same way we’ve done for years, volunteering at the First Presbyterian Church of Palm Beach soup kitchen.
After serving dinner to over two hundred people, we fix a plate for ourselves.
Just like she does every year, she chastises me for bringing my own cranberry sauce.
I prefer the store-bought stuff that comes out of a can looking like a cylindrical blob.
“Honestly, Stone. What kind of Italian mother lets her child eat that crap out of a can? I made enough fresh cranberry sauce to feed all these people. It’s not like you didn’t have a chance to get any for yourself.”
I laugh at my mother’s embarrassment. “You know this is one of my fondest memories as a kid. When we could barely afford a turkey. Some traditions aren’t meant to be broken, and this is one of them.”
Mom huffs. “Fine. But I draw the line at Stove Top stuffing. And another thing. Why haven’t you fixed things with Desirae yet? You need to talk to her. Have you considered that as far as she knows, the building is still scheduled for demolition? I bet that’s why she’s upset with you.”
She looks up at the ceiling as if she has a direct line to the man upstairs. “What is wrong with men? Why do they think women are just supposed to read their minds?”
When she gets no answer from above, she turns back to me. “I raised you better than this. Stop being an idiot and fix your mess.”
“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, Mom?”
“Look, I know you hold stuff in. And you want everything to be perfectly worked out before you make promises you can’t keep.
But try to look at it from her perspective.
Your silence has done nothing to reassure her.
You’ve been sending her mixed signals. No wonder she’s confused.
For someone running a billion dollar company, you sure can be dense sometimes. ”
Before I can get a word in, she continues.
“I love you, son. But on this one, I’m team Desirae.
At the rate you’re going, I’m never going to have any grandchildren.
I know you’re in love with her. You need to tell her.
And speaking of grandchildren—when are we going to have the test results to determine if Virginia Reilly is, in fact, your grandmother? ”
After spending the day with my mother and thinking about everything she had to say, the silence of my condo is broken only by the distant sounds on the beach as I review the latest proposals for my project the team rushed to update prior to taking off for the holiday.
This plan is exactly what I asked for. It centers around the Reilly building as the focal point.
It preserves the character of Pelican Point’s main street, down to replacing street signs and fixtures reminiscent of old coastal Florida.
The updated report details the revised costs and profit margins, as well as identifies tax benefits for historical projects, and state and federal grants that can be utilized to preserve even more of the town.
Mom’s words about happiness versus success echo in my mind, as I realize Desirae is worth sacrificing everything for.
I’ve made my decision. It will either destroy my business or save everything I hold dear. No matter the cost, and even if I lose it all, I will fight the board on this and do what’s right. Right for Desirae, Pelican Point, and me.