Chapter 14
C HRIS GLANCED UP from his computer as Shayla entered his office. He put up his finger, not wanting his train of thought to be derailed. The rumors surrounding his longest-standing client, Gerron Bennett, had not been exactly false. The actor’s outspoken opinion on the way a new production cast white actors to play characters of ancient Egyptian origins while continuing to perpetuate racial stereotypes of inner-city gangs had gone viral and restarted conversations on the way Hollywood often culturally appropriated. Therefore, Chris was hard at work substantiating Gerron’s criticism as actual civil advocacy that fostered conversations surrounding diversity to ensure he didn’t get booted from his highly rated TV series. Once Chris hit the send button, he turned his attention to Shayla, who seemed more than giddy with excitement.
“Been a long time since I’ve seen you like this.” He chuckled. “What news have you?”
She moved closer to his desk, flaunting a giant smile, then pulled her hand from behind her back and slammed a document on his desk. “They sent the new contract.”
He reached for the stack and saw Hurston House on the cover page. Five days ago he’d stood with his friends as Duncan unveiled the future site for the youth village and learned things about Carrah that made him question her pursuit of the publishing contract. Perhaps if he had been willing to listen to her when she first came to him, he might better understand her motivations.
Instead, he felt like he was robbing the world of another STEM girl. His mother had been ahead of her time in formulating cosmetics and it made him wonder if Carrah was that person for this generation, given Noir’s most recent success in fragrance. Why was she willing to give up chemistry for writing without first looking for a compromise?
Chris disregarded his personal perspective and focused on the professional duty he owed Carrah. He quickly removed the paper clip, scanning for the updates. He’d promised Carrah at the ball he’d reach out once he heard something. Now he could finally tell her that he had negotiated a higher offer and increased publicity commitments along with more favorable terms for the right to acquire Carrah’s next book.
The only thing he wasn’t able to remove was the right of refusal for her next manuscript within the same genre. However, he was able to add a stipulation for when she could submit and when they had to reply. In his opinion, it was a win because it was more favorable for her than the original language.
“You’re smiling,” Shayla said, “which is rare when you are reviewing a contract.”
“Not rare when I get what I want in said contract,” he corrected, and she blushed. “I’m honestly still shocked, given that this is a debut for her. However, the acquiring editor is also the VP, and she’s very excited about this book and its possibilities.”
Shayla folded her arms as a small smirk played at her lips. “So are you telling me that you’re happy Ms. Andrews wanted you?”
The papers fell from his hands. Chris went completely still. Those words were a double entendre, and if echoed in the presence of certain people, it could make him the second black sheep of the family. Therefore, he wasted no time advising Shayla on the need to remain discreet with Carrah’s representation and then decided they would only refer to Carrah as Seraphina moving forward, to avoid any potential slipups.
As Shayla retreated from his office, it was natural for his overanalytical brain to begin running scenarios. For one, he had to consider if his father might feel betrayed… how his mother might be turning in her grave. There was also the issue of the nosy summer residents and how they might respond to seeing them alone together. Beyond the practical nuances, he still needed to not be so confused by wanting to protect Carrah from Trent. He also hadn’t found a rational explanation for why he had wanted Summer to leave the balcony so that he could be alone and free to speak with Carrah.
Chris cursed himself for still feeling like he owed Carrah something for being there for his brother when he couldn’t be. Had her compassion blinded him? He had to ponder the notion because helping Carrah Andrews, the pretty girl who always went out of her way to avoid him, seemed like a path no one in their right mind would take. Given where he was in life with his firm’s expansion and the extra support his father required, the last thing he needed was another headache.
Only, he was a man of his word. His mother taught him a long time ago that a man who couldn’t stand by his word lacked honor and would never command respect. So, while Carrah may not exactly like him, she clearly had enough respect to come knocking on his door for help. He would manage the fallout with his family, if he had to, later.
No longer wishing to partake in the internal debate of should I or shouldn’t I, he picked up his phone and messaged her.
Afternoon Carrah, I have an update for you. When are you available to meet and discuss?
Carrah’s phone blared to life for the umpteenth time. She glanced over her shoulder to the other side of the small lab that had once been a pool house and decided against checking the notifications. Her siblings had been hounding her nonstop with questions ever since she submitted the proposal on Sunday, and she was certain they were the reason her device was singing with alerts. She refocused on the beaker in front of her and squeezed the top of the dropper between her thumb and index finger.
The essence of watermelon seed oil dripped into a gel-like substance she’d compounded with anti-aging ingredients, omega-3 fatty acids, and antimicrobials. She then picked up her stirring rod and continued disregarding the chirps alerting her to new messages. Once she was confident that everything was thoroughly mixed, she brought the beaker to her nose. Unexpectedly, she sighed into a smile.
The light fragrance reminded her of when she used to ride her bicycle past an old truck loaded down with watermelons on the way to see Reese at Hill House, where she would then sniff around Ms. Connie’s rose garden. The mix was subtle, both playful and beautiful, and it made her think that summer was made for falling in love. These were the moments she lived for in her lab. She had always been able to reimagine new products in the Shores because her mind was at ease.
However, the past few days had been different. For the first time since her parents converted this space for Carrah, she found it hard to create something new. The euphoric high she generally possessed as she unraveled the molecular structure she drew on paper into a test tube was marked by mistakes, which led her to second-guess her abilities. The faith she needed to develop miracle products to transform Noir’s sinking status was nonexistent, and unfair.
Another few rounds of mixing and experimenting consumed Carrah. She finally felt like she had made progress when the ingredients synthesized and the gel-like substance permeated the scent she’d created as it became a light shade of pink. The only drawback was that the consistency was more watery than she desired. It had the potential to be an easy fix, but that didn’t mean it could be solved in minutes. Sometimes it took hours, even days, to perfect.
And right now she didn’t have either. Not while she yearned for the summer she expected to find whenever she returned to the Shores. Therefore, she called it quits for the day. The dilemma Noir had managed to find itself in wouldn’t be solved because she’d spent the morning in her lab.
Carrah did an about-face. She moved from her station to the other side of the small space. The pressure to develop products for immediate release were like hands choking her windpipe. How could she ensure quality cosmetics with a burden so overwhelming?
A heavy breath escaped her as she grabbed her phone from the old desk. A mental break was in order before engaging with Aubrey and Beau, since they were attempting to micromanage her research and development due to their ignorance.
It wasn’t her fault they were too lazy to look up the science of a product or too embarrassed to seek clarification from their father on what Carrah had presented in the brief. All they needed to know were the benefits and end results, which she had clearly articulated in her product summaries. She would not hand-hold them while explaining chemical reactions or elaborate on the way she engineered synthetic smells so they could pretend to understand. Especially now that she knew Beau wanted her stripped of responsibility. Carrah wouldn’t give him anything to make his job easier after being reprimanded and relegated to working during her summer break.
When she finally looked down at her phone she saw a waiting notification from Chris nestled between those of her siblings. She snatched off her gloves and picked it up. There were no words to contain the excitement that rushed over her. He had told her to wait until he had time to make contact with the publisher.
At that moment her mind floated back to one Sunday in church when she was eleven. She was sitting on a pew with Reese and Ava, and had passed Ava a note for Chris…
Carrah shook her head, forcing the memory to fade. She was back to glaring at the screen of her phone. “It’s just a message,” she said under her breath, and pressed her finger against Chris’s name to read his text.
Afternoon Carrah, I have an update for you. When are you available to meet and discuss?
Her thumbs were paralyzed, stuck in the air, as she contemplated what should be a simple reply. Was it the shock that he had been in contact with Hurston House, and her dreams were no longer galaxies away from coming true? There was no other viable reason beyond excitement. Well, except for the fact that she had found help where she least suspected it. She took a few deep breaths, anxious to receive the news he had and began typing.
May I call you now? If not, I can meet later today or anytime tomorrow.
She hit send, preferring a phone conversation for more than a few reasons. One, whatever weird energy she had around him was easily avoided from two separate ends of a phone. Two, family history dictated they would become the subjects of gossip if they were seen out without the usual entourage. Three, she really wanted to know what had taken place between him and the publisher.
Almost instantly his reply came back.
This is not a phone conversation. 4024 Hemlock Creek Ln @ 6:00 p.m.
Carrah quickly confirmed her attendance then put the phone down before she slipped up and told him she didn’t like his tone. She knew their history, his reluctance, and the distance they’d kept from each other over the years. It still didn’t justify his direct, almost nonnegotiable demeanor. All of which triggered the memory from earlier of her passing Ava a note to Chris.
Ava slid down then leaned to the row in front of her and gave the note to Reggie, who passed it to his left. When it got to Chris, he looked over to Reggie. He pointed to Ava, who then pointed to Carrah.
Chris snapped his head back to the pulpit, and after church, Gavin brought her the paper torn into pieces. All she had written on it was “Can we be friends?”
She never asked again. In fact, she held it as a grudge and ignored him—until now. A part of her wondered if Chris remembered because for as long as she’d fought to forget, she couldn’t. Though it didn’t really matter now because being friends with Chris was unimportant. This was strictly business.