Chapter 2 #2
I glanced up at the man, then at the bag holding the ridiculously expensive bottle of alcohol. As though from a distance, I heard Alaric thank him—a quick but gracious expression of gratitude—while the bartender’s words and actions and their meaning registered slowly.
When they finally did, it was like being woken up from a wonderful, but ultimately pointless, daydream. Just like that, the spell Alaric had been weaving shattered.
My eyes fell shut and I exhaled a hot, sharp laugh.
Eighteen years later and nothing had changed.
Alaric was still everyone’s golden boy, getting everything he wanted for free without having to even ask for a discount.
And here I was, still the one paying for bottom-shelf, bargain-basement goods with free drink vouchers.
Experience and reality told me that one day, if I opened myself up to possibility, if I allowed myself to have hopes and expectations, if I ever actually wanted something from Alaric, he would disappoint me.
People are overrated and I’m an idiot.
Pulling my hand from his warm grip, I slowly swiveled the stool toward the bar and plunked my elbows on the counter, allowing my forehead to fall to my hands and whispering, “Idiot.”
“Alison?”
Straightening my back at the sound of his voice saying my name, I stood. So did he.
“Hey. What—”
“Excuse me. I just remembered, I have somewhere else to be,” I said, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“Wait—wait a minute. Alison. What just happened? Where are you going?”
Having no items to gather, no belongings to collect, nothing to leave behind, I walked away from the bar and made a beeline for the bag and coat check, frustrated that the stupid noble fir with its handblown glass grenades stood in my way.
No matter. I would simply walk around it and pretend it didn’t exist.
Alaric didn’t follow me out of the bar, nor did I reprimand myself for the brief lapse into fantastical foolishness. My only regret as I stepped out into the wintery Chicago evening was that I’d neglected to exploit my second free drink voucher.
It wasn’t yet Thanksgiving, and I was already so very, very cold.
* * *
“Where did you save the land deeds for Alenbach? The ones from the Malcom estate? I don’t see them on the secure drive.”
I waited several seconds but I received no answer to my shouted question, just the sound of Renee rustling a snack bag—likely pretzels—coming from somewhere outside my office, followed by a thud then a curse.
She’s probably wearing her headphones . . .
Renee wore headphones nearly everywhere but had an extrasensory talent for detecting when she was being spoken about in the third person.
Thus, I said under my breath, “Renee Owens is a terrible assistant and I should probably fire her for incompetence.”
Almost immediately, the door creaked and she poked her head in, hair arranged in what looked like an unlit bonfire. Three pens—that I could see—stuck out of her bun at unlikely angles.
“Hey, boss. What do you need?” she asked, her tone solicitous.
“Where are the land deeds for Alenbach from the Malcom estate?” I repeated my earlier question, giving her a flat smile.
I’d known Renee since forever. We’d grown up together in Alenbach but had experienced somewhat of a reversal of fortunes since high school.
Her homelife had been middle class and stable until her mom was diagnosed with a terminal illness after graduation.
While I’d attended college in Chicago, Renee dropped out of community college to take care of her ailing mother.
By the time her mother had passed away, Renee was left with nothing but funeral expenses and medical debt.
Meanwhile, I’d graduated from business school in Boston and had already made my first million.
“Did you try looking under the right year?” Renee ducked her head farther inside my office and pushed her glasses up with a finger that was inked blue to the second knuckle.
“It’s not on the drive,” I said flatly. “If it was on the drive, I wouldn’t be asking.”
“Oh! The Malcom deeds. Sorry. I haven’t saved those yet. We just received them. I can do that now.” Renee plucked a pen from her hair, jotted a note down on the pad she held, then stuck the pen back in place.
“Please do,” I said, distracted by the LED triangle of blinking red from the phone sitting on my desk. “Wait. Who is that holding on line two? Is that the bank in Houston? Are we all set with the last of the loan documents?”
“Oh. No. That’s your niece again.” Renee pulled a different pen from the collection on her head and wrote something else down on her notepad. “But that reminds me, I need to call back the bank in Houston.”
“You haven’t done that yet?”
Her nose wrinkled as she showed me all her teeth, an expression that definitely wasn’t a smile. “Sorry. I forgot.”
I wanted to reprimand her for being so forgetful, but refrained because I was in a good mood. “Did she say what it’s about?”
Renee’s eyebrows shot up. “The bank in Houston? I just said I haven’t called yet, but I’ll be calling about the third mortgage on the—”
“No, no, no.” I waved an impatient hand through the air. “Sawyer. Did my niece say what she’s calling about?”
Renee shrugged. “No. But if you don’t pick up, I think she’ll just keep calling back. She’s already called four times today.”
“Inform her you spoke to me this time and I said I was too busy today.” I turned back to my computer screen and the half-written acquisition summary.
The cursor blinked, drawing me to the spot where I’d stopped earlier, mid-thought.
I would have to add a placeholder for the reference numbers until Renee uploaded the land deeds.
“I already told Sawyer you were too busy today, but she still insists on talking to you.” Renee’s voice was mild but carried that knowing undercurrent, the one that suggested I wasn’t being reasonable. Or perhaps I wasn’t being nice.
Not bothering to mask my impatient exhale, I hit the unmute, picked up line two, and said, “What’s up?”
The answering silence was too long. Then, “Hi, Aunt Alison. How are you? How was your Thanksgiving? I missed you, too. It is also good to hear your voice.”
I tried counting to ten in my head but only made it to four. “I’m busy, kiddo. Tell me what’s up. We’re working against a deadline. Do you need money?”
Yes, I’d been the one to set the deadline, but Sawyer didn’t need to know that.
“No. I don’t need money.” Her voice was low, just above a whisper.
“Then why are you calling?” I let my eyes flicker to the email window open in the background of my screen, to the subject line I’d typed excitedly last week when the news of the Malcom estate settlement arrived.
I couldn’t believe how quickly I’d managed to acquire all of Duke Weston’s debts, both personal and business.
Since the official initiation of this project, it had taken just four months.
I thought we’d have to wait at least another year for all the many, many banks to come to terms and sign over the loans.
But each one seemed just as anxious to rid themselves of Duke’s debt as I was to acquire it.
“I want you to come over for Christmas this year.” Sawyer’s croaky request cut through my cheerful thoughts.
“I’m—what?” I pressed the phone more firmly against my ear. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious. This is my first Christmas with Dad’s new wife Diane and all her kids. I need you here.”
“You don’t need me.” My fingers drummed on the edge of the keyboard.
I was anxious to get back to work. With the acquisition of the Malcom deeds, the Weston Company and all the land it resided on was now mine.
Well, it belonged to Wingspan Private Equity.
But Wingspan Private Equity belonged to me.
My legal team would draw up the final papers on Monday and we would file them in Texas court Tuesday.
But first, I needed to finish this summary, which meant I had no time for a sixteen-year-old’s irrational demands.
“I don’t want to be alone.” Sawyer’s voice shifted, quieter again.
I gritted my teeth rather than roll my eyes. She was being dramatic. “Kid, you won’t be alone. You just said your dad, new stepmom, and all her kids will be there.” I opened up the folder where Renee would eventually save the land deeds and hit refresh. Still nothing.
There was a creak on the line, then I heard Sawyer sigh. Loudly. “Aunt Alison, you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.” I heard the hardness in my tone, the unmistakable boundary I’d just drawn, but I refused to be manipulated by a sixteen-year-old who should’ve been more resilient than this.
Sawyer was lucky to get a Christmas at all, and now she was complaining about who she had to spend it with?
“It’s been just you and your dad since Viv died, and you never insisted I come for any of those Christmases. ”
I’d spent the Christmas after my sister’s death with my niece and brother-in-law because Renee had insisted it would’ve been horrifically unfeeling for me to do anything else.
Neither Sawyer nor my former brother-in-law, Paul, had seemed to notice my presence.
In retrospect, it had been a complete waste of time.
The unmistakable sound of voices in conversation filtered in from the reception area and I leaned around my giant computer screen to peer out my office door. I couldn’t see anything, but Renee was now talking to someone.
Flicking open my calendar, I checked today’s schedule. No planned calls or meetings, which meant we had an unexpected visitor. My mood began to sour.
I didn’t like surprises, even small ones. And I had no time for walk-ins when I needed everything ready for legal by Monday. I wanted to file all the paperwork by Tuesday so I could kick my father out of his mansion no later than Christmas Day.
I needed that man to be without a home on Christmas. I needed the rug pulled out from under him and his life thrown into disarray, just like he’d done to my mom, sister, and me all those years ago.
In a roundabout way, he was responsible for most of the stress my mother had shouldered, which had ultimately led to the heart attack that took her from us too early.
But in a much more direct way, his lack of willingness to get tested as a bone marrow donor for Viv had basically killed my sister. And I couldn’t help but take that very personally.
I needed all his employees to know just how badly he’d ruined the company he’d inherited, and I’d make sure they all knew Duke was the reason they had no job to return to after their Christmas break.
I wanted him absolutely crushed. He would be the most despised man in Alenbach and I couldn’t wait. Friendless. Homeless. Penniless.
My mood buoyed.
“That’s because I wasn’t lonely when it was just dad and me.” Sawyer sounded ragged but the raw emotion in her voice frustrated me.
“But you’re lonely now? Now that there will be more people?
That makes no sense, kiddo. Look, I’ll buy you a puppy.
” I hated the way it came out, peppered with sarcasm, but I couldn’t help it.
She needed perspective, a wake-up call. Thus, I also couldn’t stop myself from adding, “When I was your age—and a lot younger—me, your mom, and your grandma, we never celebrated Christmas. There were no gifts. There was no fancy dinner. No cookies and caroling. Christmas was an opportunity to work a double shift because everyone else wanted the day off. I can’t believe you’re complaining about this.
” Clearly, my sister and her hapless husband had spoiled their only child.
Sawyer made a noise I’d never heard from her before, a cross between a laugh and a gasp, and I inwardly cringed, sensing I’d gone too far. Great. Now I would probably have to apologize.
“Forget it. Forget I called.” My niece’s voice arrived choked and watery.
Closing my eyes, I opened my mouth to respond but a soft click announced that she’d hung up.
I replaced the receiver and made a mental note to text my former brother-in-law about this when I had time, probably after Christmas. I also made a mental note to send Sawyer whatever latest new generation of her phone had just released. It would be expensive, but I knew she’d like it.
Refreshing the folder on the secure drive, I heaved another loud sigh when it was still lacking the land deeds. What the hell is Renee doing?
“Renee! Did you save those Malcom land deeds yet?” Standing, I raised my voice. “I want Duke Weston out of his stupid mansion before Chris . . .”
I stopped, the sentence trailing off, because Alaric Weston—I mean, Alaric Jordan—stood in the doorway holding a bouquet of big white and pink peonies. My favorite.