Chapter 7 #5
In a sense, Rachel was showing them their life, flashing before their eyes, but they weren’t dying. Selling a deeply-rooted, longstanding small business in a beloved community might feel like it, though.
If nothing else, there was a sense of grief at the closure, the change, the transition.
And Rachel honored that.
As Rachel pivoted to numbers, the deck moved faster, because the numbers were the easy part. Black and white. Binary.
Either they added up or they didn’t.
“And so,” she said, affection in her tone, “Markstone's would love to bring Love You Chocolate into its family of small businesses. We’ll absolutely maintain all of your current jobs, add more, and retain the local–uh, the local character that–uh… ”
Spacesuit.
There was a man in a spacesuit outside the window, walking toward them outside, right at the edge of the springs. The distraction was too much for Rachel’s sleep-deprived, already jangled nervous system.
A man in a spacesuit was too much.
He took off his helmet and Rachel gasped.
“Kell?”
Both the Armisteads turned, Boyce snorting.
Kell walked along the perimeter of the hot springs, steam weaving in and out of view. His white spacesuit half blended into the snow, but half stood out against the waters.
“What is–why is–oh! I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be distracted,” Rachel said, hating her stuttering.
“That’s the poison ivy Luview boy,” Lucinda said. “He wears that contraption at least once a week in town. Don’t mind him.”
Rachel couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop if she tried.
“Is he–is that a machete in his hand?”
Sure enough, Kell’s right arm came into view as he lifted it, the curved steel blade glinting in the sunlight, thick and dangerous.
“Ayup,” Boyce said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Why is he wearing a spacesuit and carrying a machete?”
“He always was an odd little boy,” Lucinda muttered.
“Mom, Kell’s not odd. He’s doing his job.”
“His job?” Rachel echoed.
Pausing mid-step, Kell held his helmet in one arm, the machete in the other, and turned toward them, as if he knew they were talking about him.
Then he waved.
Rage, red like the foil that covered the hearts here in the store, poured into Rachel like melted chocolate into a mold. Until he appeared–in a spacesuit!–the presentation had been perfect.
Perfect.
And now…
“He cuts poison ivy.”
“I knew he had a business doing that. But does poison ivy grow in the winter?”
“That boy finds it year round. Like it’s his personal mission to rid Luview of anything that doesn’t belong here and might hurt us,” Lucinda said steadily, maintaining eye contact with Rachel the entire time.
Oh, no. Her heart seized.
In that second, she knew.
Knew that the deal wasn’t going through.
“I admire that,” Rachel said slowly, buying time. “Years ago, I learned the hard way that you never know what’s going to hurt you in life, so be careful.”
Lucinda’s eyelids fluttered, as if she weren’t expecting the response.
“You’re so young,” she said slowly. “You have plenty of hurt ahead of you. But you also have joy. Don’t let the hurt crowd out the joy.”
Rachel looked through the window at Kell, who had put his helmet on and moved out of view, though she could see the bulk of his white costume through the trees in the distance.
“Well, let’s get back to our discussion,” Rachel said, hoping to recover and redirect.
Boyce’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen.
“Janice had to go home. Her little boy threw up at school.”
“Oh, no!” Lucinda said with a cluck of the tongue. “Poor dears.”
He stood and gave Rachel an apologetic look. “That means, unfortunately, that I need to help at the counter.”
“You don’t have people you can call in?” Rachel asked.
“Not enough. It’s a small town, and everyone is stretched thin at peak times.”
“I’m surprised more people don’t move here, if the jobs are that plentiful.”
“People don’t know that.”
“No business development office?” she inquired, then corrected herself. “Oh. Right. The director quit recently, right?”
Lucinda looked impressed. “You did your research.”
“No,” she admitted, laughing. “Deanna had to tell me.”
“As I said, that woman is a one-person town information desk.” Lucinda folded her hands and gave Boyce a meaningful look.
He sat down.
“Rachel,” she began in a voice that meant she really didn’t need to say another word.
Because Rachel might as well have been no.
“Markstone's’ offer is good. I might even say very good. And the money would be nice. I’m not getting any younger, and Boyce needs security.
My other son, Brandon, lives in western Massachusetts and runs a farm.
I have six grandchildren, and they’ve all worked at the store at some point.
It’s not just a business with a balance sheet. It’s who we are.”
“I can see that, Lucinda.”
“Thank you. You’re more… personable than I expected. Most companies send corporate drones who breeze into town, try to get what they want, and leave the second they hear no. Or push hard and try to browbeat me into a deal.”
“I cannot imagine anyone successfully putting a hard sell on you.”
Lucinda gave her a hard-to-read smile. “You do realize this is a no?”
Rachel smiled back. “I would prefer to think of it as a pause.
Neither a no nor a yes. How about we all take a few days to think about it?
Let me stay and get a feel for the town, so I can go back to Markstone's and make sure that they understand how rich in love the community really is. Aligning our offer with your values is important to us.”
“You want to stay?” Boyce interrupted. “I thought you could only be here for three nights.”
“I can extend.” Rachel frowned. “May I ask what’s holding you back?”
“We were warned that Markstone's might not be as trustworthy as we initially thought.”
“Trustworthy?”
Boyce’s phone buzzed again. He stood, this time for good. “I really have to help. They’re swamped now.”
Lucinda waved him toward the door, and stood as well. “If it’s that bad, let me go out and help.”
“Mom, you’ve never learned the iPad cash register system.”
“Then I’ll hand out samples and work the room.” She winked at him.
Rachel could feel the love in here, but the trustworthy comment stung.
“Before you both go, first of all, thank you so much. Could we schedule another meeting?”
“It would have to be after Valentine’s Day.”
Nine days. Valentine’s Day was in nine days.
“That would be fine. February 15?”
“You’ll still be here then?” Boyce asked head tilted in surprise.
“I can work from anywhere.” She tapped her laptop.
Boyce and Lucinda shared a look. An imperceptible nod from Lucinda made it clear Rachel had a reprieve.
Both came around the table to shake her hand. As she clasped Boyce’s, she asked, “You said you were warned that Markstone's might be untrustworthy. May I ask who it was?”
He leaned in and said quietly, “Kell Luview. He said not to trust a word out of your mouth. Mom was going to say no all along, but I was ready to convince her until he said that. Now that I’ve met you, I’m wondering why he said it.”
She inhaled so sharply, her lungs hurt, even though it was warm in the room.
“You’re wondering?”
“You strike me as a nice woman. Not a corporate killer.”
“Glad you see my humanity through this hard exterior,” she joked, but her nerves began to fray as the reality of her situation sank in:
She didn’t have a deal, she just offered to stay in town for nine more days, and Kell had sabotaged her.
“It’s humanity that makes Mom want to hang onto the store,” he replied. They turned to Lucinda, who shook Rachel’s hand.
“Let’s talk on the fifteenth,” she said, those piercing eyes reading Rachel.
“I’m pleased you want to stay that long.
My no is now an official maybe.” She pointed to the right.
“There’s a back door you can use if you want to avoid the crowds.
It’s a lovely path along the hot springs, and it’s plowed, so you can walk it. ”
They left her in the room, staggered by what had just happened.
Gobsmacked, Rachel listened to the shaky intake of breath through her nose, filling her lungs, echoing in the hollow of her head. Each inhale took her further away from the meeting that just happened, each exhale clearing her mind.
But not enough.
Rote muscle memory made her hand reach for the laptop, unplugging the dongle, carefully putting everything in cases before stashing it all in her oversized bag. A rush of emotion threatened to make her cry, but she wasn’t going to allow that to happen.
A maybe was a maybe. She’d turned a no into a maybe, and that was no small feat.
Boyce’s words began pinging through her head, distilling down to four syllables: untrustworthy.
Kell had told Boyce she was untrustworthy.
How dare he?
How dare he!
Outside, in the distance, a dull thwack caught her attention. Kell was striking something with his blade, his stupid spaceman suit looking extra ridiculous against the pastoral background. He looked like he was starring in a surreal film, destined to become a quirky classic in thirty years.
Quirk was the last thing she cared about, though, as reality sank in, the empty conference room taunting her.
A maybe still wasn’t a yes.
And untrustworthy was an outrageous insult, beyond the pale.
Fury nearly made her launch herself at him through the picture window. As she shoved her laptop into her bag and put on her coat, she became nothing but emotion.
Emotion that needed a target.
A target in a spacesuit.