Chapter 14
ALICE
Istare at my phone screen, Rebecca Ho's name and number still sitting in my recent calls list from three days ago. What she offered me was amazing. The kind of opportunity that doesn't come knocking twice.
Yet after reading the official proposal, I had emailed her back and said no.
Like some kind of crazy person.
My finger hovers over her contact, wondering if I should call back, tell her I've changed my mind. What's keeping me at Rooted Pantry now that Oscar owns it? Loyalty to a company that isn't really mine anymore?
Or something else entirely?
For all I know, his promise to let me retain control was a lie, and I’m making a mistake by sticking around when I could be pursuing bigger things elsewhere.
I toss my phone onto my desk with a sigh and rub my temples. The memory of Oscar backing me up in the board meeting last week keeps replaying in my mind. The way he looked at me, especially… with compassion. With passion.
A sharp knock on my door frame pulls me from my thoughts. Speak of the devil.
"Got a minute?" Oscar asks, standing at my office doorway in a charcoal suit that fits him too perfectly. My chest tightens at the sight of him, and I hate that my body still reacts this way.
"Depends what you need," I answer, pretending to focus on my laptop screen.
He steps inside, closing the door behind him. "Just got a call about that processing facility we've been looking at in San Diego. The owner can show us around tomorrow if we can make it down there."
"Tomorrow?" I echo. "That's short notice."
"I know, but we need to move quickly. The location is perfect — close to our suppliers, right price point, and it has a good deal of the equipment we need already installed." He leans against the edge of my desk, too close for comfort. "I'm flying down in the morning. Thought you'd want to know."
I snap my head up. "You're going alone?"
"That was the plan, yes." A hint of amusement plays at the corner of his mouth. "Unless you'd care to join me?"
My mind races through the implications. The San Diego facility is my project — I've been pushing for southern expansion for over a year. No way am I letting Oscar swoop in and take credit, or worse, make decisions without my input.
"Of course I'm coming," I say, trying to sound merely practical rather than defensive. "I know exactly what we need for that space to work. The flow has to be perfect for our production model."
Oscar nods, looking annoyingly pleased, as if this was exactly the response he was hoping for. "Great. My jet leaves at seven AM."
"Your jet?" I scoff. "Typical."
"It's efficient," he counters.
"It's excessive. The amount of fuel…" I shake my head.
He shrugs, unbothered. "Either way, we'll be there by nine AM, tour the facility, have meetings with the local officials about permits, and be back by dinner. Unless you'd prefer to fly commercial and meet me there whenever you can?"
The thought of sitting in airport security while Oscar is already in San Diego making decisions about my project makes my blood boil. "Fine. I'll be there at seven."
"Perfect." He straightens up, adjusting his tie unnecessarily. "Pack light. Though if you forget anything, I'm sure we could find a store in San Diego."
"I've traveled for business before, Oscar," I remind him sharply. "Many times, in fact, while building this company you just bought."
His smile falters slightly, and for a moment he looks genuinely regretful. "I know you have, Alice. That's… that's why I need you there."
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and I look away, unsure how to respond. When I glance back up, his expression has returned to its usual confident mask.
"Send me the address for the airfield," I say, breaking the awkward silence. "I'll meet you there."
"Will do." He heads for the door but pauses with his hand on the knob. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're coming."
After he leaves, I sit motionless at my desk, staring at the space he occupied. This trip is purely professional, I remind myself. I need to be there to protect what I've built, to make sure this expansion happens the right way.
Yet a smaller, more honest voice whispers that spending a day alone with Oscar terrifies me for entirely different reasons.
I pull out my phone again and text Sydney. Going to San Diego tomorrow. With Oscar.
Her reply comes instantly: Alone?
It's BUSINESS, I type back emphatically.
Sure it is, she responds, adding far too many winking emojis.
I roll my eyes and set my phone down, turning to my computer to pull up the San Diego facility specs.
If I'm going to be trapped with Oscar tomorrow, I need to be prepared.
No distractions, no reminiscing about the past, and absolutely no noticing how good he smells or how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.
This is about Rooted Pantry. About protecting what I've built.
As I review the facility documents, Rebecca's job offer floats back into my mind. Fresh Bites is stable, successful, and most importantly, not owned by Oscar. I could walk away from all this complication.
But then I think about the years I've poured into Rooted Pantry. The late nights, the risks, the pride I felt watching our products spread from local co-ops to national chains. How can I abandon it now?
My calendar pings with a new notification — Oscar has sent the details for tomorrow. Seven AM at a private airfield north of the city. It's happening.
I take a deep breath and close the Fresh Bites email folder. Whatever opportunities might be out there, Rooted Pantry is still my baby. And if that means enduring a day alone with the last person – and ironically also the first person – I want to spend a day with, then so be it.
Tomorrow will be strictly business. I just need to remember that.