Silently, Jackson retrieved a bottle of water from the mini-fridge in the office. He untwisted the cap and handed the bottle to her.
She took it, swallowed down the pills, and put the bottle back on the table. Her heart pounded against the wall of her chest. She didn’t feel like herself anymore.
Jackson stood to leave, but Meg continued. “I know how some salespeople act, always undermining each other, one-upping … after all the trade shows I have attended, I’ve pretty much seen it all. But I’ve never experienced the same kind of treatment from my boss. It’s surreal.”
Jackson crossed his arms and leaned against the wall near the door. “I understand that this is not a normal situation. My sister and I are working through the logistics of how to split up the duties of Riley Holdings—”
“I think you are behind this,” she blurted, “behind your sister undermining everything I have worked for.”
He straightened. “Me? Are you serious?”
Anger swelled within her at dizzying speed. Where was all this coming from? She glanced at the monstrosity of her foot, then at Jackson. “I have no plans to leave.”
“No one is asking you to.”
She couldn’t look at him, her voice dropping. “You have wanted me out of here ever since …”
A beat of silence enveloped the space between them.
“Ever since what?” he said. All evidence of a lingering smile had evaporated.
She would not go there. Part of her wanted to hash it all out … once and for all. If only she had never dated him, had never succumbed to his charm, his wit, his … good looks. She was young and dumb and would never forgive herself because now look what’s happened? William died suddenly and she was about to have her carefully planned world pulled from under her. Panic squeezed her lungs. What would she do? Where would she go?
“Well?”
She shook her head. He had always blamed her for the breakup, but she was not the one who, while they were growing close, suddenly announced that he would be leaving for another job far across the country. She should not have been surprised. Men leave—that’s what they do. His father had just promoted her, so it was not as if she could pick up and follow him off to wherever he landed. Not like he had asked her to anyway. She hadn’t wanted him to dump her first, so she took care of that for the both of them.
Jackson put one hand on the door, but turned to her first. “My father promised you a job here as long as you want it. I’m not about to violate that promise, and my sister is aware of this too. But it’s up to you how you will handle that job.”
She shrugged, keeping her face a mask. “I hear you, Jackson. And though I have had no plans to leave up until now, that doesn’t mean I haven’t had offers.”
He yanked open the door, a hard edge to his jaw. “I’ll be unavailable the rest of the day.”
He left without looking back, delivering a punch to her insides as the door slammed shut. She was over him, but she’d learned that lingering grief often showed up without warning. And sometimes that kind of grief caused people to do things they might not ordinarily do, like throw out a threat that was not entirely true.
She sniffed, fending off rising emotion. Sure, she had participated in the usual chamber-mixer banter, “Hey, Meg, what can we do to lure you away from Riley’s dilapidated hotel?” or “You’d make a great addition to our team—sure we can’t pull you away from ol’ William?” Of course, when William passed away so suddenly, those same people were nothing but kind, offering her condolences and encouragement. “It’s a good thing you’re there to keep steering the ship,” they’d said. “Keep up the good work.”
How would it look if she showed up at their doors now with her resume in hand?
A part of her felt that abruptly leaving the inn would somehow dishonor William. She would never understand how Jackson could so easily leave the family business the way he had—leave his father without an heir to train, to come beside him and step in when the time was right.
Maybe that was the reason William decided to leave shares of Riley Holdings to a daughter he barely knew. And look how that turned out? Pepper was brash, overbearing, and unkind to the staff. And she wasn’t going anywhere.
If William did not trust his son enough to leave him alone in charge, how could she herself ever trust Jackson either?
* * *
Jackson loosened his tie on his second lap around the inn, thankful that the property’s length provided him with enough time to work off some steam. If he heated up anymore he’d have to remove his shirt, too, and how would that go over with the staff? He nearly laughed. Sure would give Meg more ammunition against him.
She drove him nuts. How could he continue to allow this?
“Nice day for a walk.”
His heart leapt. He turned his chin to find Rudy, the head of maintenance, looking up from a kneeling position next to a yellowing hedge. “Rudy. Didn’t see you there.”
“Didn’t think so. But since this is your second time around, thought I might give you a shout out. Wouldn’t want to startle you.”
“I see. Yes, well, it is a nice day. Sunny, warm … some of the many reasons for the inn’s popularity.”
“Your father always said so, too.”
“He owned a lot of hotels, but I think this was his favorite.”
“True statement, if I ever heard one. I’ve been to every one of the sites, you know, but this one seemed to be the one he always gravitated too. Miss him a lot around here. One of a kind, your dad. How you farin’?”
“Can’t complain.” Sweat rolled down his back and he tried not to think about the wet drip forming on his dress shirt. He had forgotten all about Rudy’s long-term employment with the chain. He would have to do better at remembering things like that. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, this here? Drip system is clogged so I’m pokin’ another hole in the tubing and affixing a new spigot.” He pulled himself up, grunting as he did. “Should work like a charm now. Small fixes like that can save the hotel lots of money in replantings.”
“I see.” He didn’t really. In fact, he rarely walked out here much and found it enlightening that Rudy would notice something so small.
“If you don’t mind me sayin’, you looked awfully downcast on your first go-round, and downright troubled on your next. I don’t want to overstep, of course. But I can be a good listener, if you need one.”
I need one. Jackson stuck a hand in his pocket, his mind a volley of conflict. Even if he cared to divulge his thoughts to Rudy, he would have to tame them first. “Thank you for the offer, Rudy. I can see why my father thought so highly of you.” He paused. “If you don’t mind, I think I will head back to my office now.”
Rudy smiled and nodded. “Sure thing. Have a blessed day now.”
Jackson made a U-turn along the path toward his office. He had only intended to blow off some steam, but had not considered that he could have been noticed. Rudy had been a constant presence at the inn, not that Jackson had thought about that much. For the first time in the many years that he had been aware of Rudy’s work, this is the first time he had ever had a one-on-one conversation with the man. As Jackson entered his palatial office, he could not get the older man’s imploring expression out of his head. He’d had to shake him off—he couldn’t be divulging his unrest to a stranger. Well, a stranger to him, anyway.
Jackson sat behind his desk and picked up an envelope. Sally had left him the daily mail, each envelope slit open with the top of its contents pulled out slightly, just as his dad had always requested. His assistant insisted on keeping things as they were, as if doing so would somehow honor his father.
Sally.
Rudy.
Meg.
Each of them seemed to know more about his father than he did—and he’d grown up around him. Meg, especially, had gained his ear more than most. It took one summer of work at the inn for him to see that Meg was his dad’s confidant and that he trusted her implicitly.
Once Jackson was far away, working for another company entirely, his father promoted Meg again and again. It should have been me.
“Son, don’t be jealous of someone else’s success,” his father once said to him. He tossed the envelope onto the pile on his desk.
Time had passed and it was he who was running the company now. Well, he and Pepper, a truth he chose not to dwell on much. He noticed a trickle of relief running through each staff member whenever he or she learned that Pepper would be off-site for a time. Seemed he wasn’t the only one to tire of her quickly.
Meg was another matter altogether. The staff loved her. During his first visit to the inn after his father had passed away, he found her up playing poker with the night auditor. She was manager on duty that night—or MOD—and could have been resting in one of the hotel’s suites until she was needed. Instead, she had decided to keep watch with one of the staff members. Jackson discovered this when, unable to sleep, he had decided to drive over to the hotel to look over the contents of his father’s office without constant interruptions of condolences or questions. He strolled through the double doors that night expecting to see the night auditor’s head down and the lobby empty when he spotted her behind the front desk, still wearing one of those well-fitted suits of hers. The red one that reminded him of a shiny new Porsche. He knew right then and there that she was different from any top manager he had met, that she had not forgotten where she had started.
He clenched his jaw, sending pain through his mouth. Meg thought he wanted her out, or at least to make her life miserable … and maybe there was some truth to that. It was well known that whenever a new management company stepped into a chain of hotels, they swept house. The current salespeople would be given the boot, and those with a fresher presence—and new contacts—brought in.
He didn’t know what to believe about Meg ... his father … or even himself anymore. Things had changed. His father was a good man, this was widely known. But he could be a pushover sometimes. The inn showed signs of wear throughout the interior, for instance. The staff had become complacent, too, something he had changed simply by updating his wardrobe and showing up unannounced over the past few months. His father thought too small. This place—the entire chain of inns—could be, no, they should be bigger and better and more.
He thought Meg understood this. Wasn’t that why she ran with the idea of promoting the inns with the chef’s newfound celebrity? She showed brilliance in the face of a challenge—pushing their brazen chef to fulfill his contract by traveling the country to give interviews and demonstrations at the company’s other less imposing properties. Such acumen!
Jackson exhaled, the sound of a sigh filling his ears. He spun his chair and stared through the windows behind his desk. This place could be grand, he thought. It should be grand. And the other properties would fall in line. He knew it. Meg knew it, too.
The realization of Meg’s part in the inn’s success rose through him as if someone had tugged on the shade of his mind. She drove him crazy—had firmly planted herself under his skin—but what would happen if she suddenly left Sea Glass Inn and began working for one of the competitors? Rock. Hard place.
Chapter 5
When Parker, one of the valets, showed up at her office unannounced to drive her home, Meg could have kissed him. Who knew sitting on a couch all day could be so exhausting?
“The boss sent me,” he said. “I’m to use the wheelchair.” He nodded to the chair that had been banished to the corner of her office. For once, she didn’t complain. She had planned on calling a ride service to bring her home, but Parker’s arrival saved her the trouble.
Liddy called Meg’s cell as she was being wheeled down the hall. “I have something for you,” she said. “Need a ride?”
“Parker has ride detail,” Meg told her. “But meet me at home—you can run interference with my mother. Hahaha.”
“’K. Be there in a sec.”
Meg arrived home to find Liddy’s car already parked in the drive. She sent Parker a brief wave, unlocked the door, and stepped in to find her mother steaming the drapes. Liddy lounged on the couch, a comical smile on her face. “Hey, you. Your mom and I were talking about old times.”
“You mean when we were delightful children?”
Her mom clucked. “You two were a handful. Remember that time you decided you wanted to go to a concert—what was that band’s name again? Anyway, you had to be 16 years old or something to get into that venue, so what did you do?”
Liddy feigned concentration, tapping her mouth with her forefinger. “I believe we waited until we were the appropriate age, isn’t that right, Meggy?”
Meg lowered herself onto the loveseat opposite Liddy, grateful for the comforts of home, but slightly on edge over having to keep up the banter.
Her mother turned toward Liddy. “Wrong,” she said, shaking the nozzle of the steamer at them both. “You girls dressed up in skirts and high heels—who knows where you found them—and you put on more makeup than a clown act. You two looked like a couple of hoochie mamas!”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Please don’t ever say that word again.”
“What? Hoochie?”
Liddy laughed. “Your mom always did have a great vocabulary,” she said to Meg. “And come to think of it, I believe that was the very incident that turned you into a fashion queen.”
Meg glanced at the plain black maxi skirt she had pulled out of her closet this morning. A far cry from her usual tailored suits. She had not thought about it until now, but she missed her wardrobe. And her routine.
Her mother bustled in with a bottle of wine and three glasses.
She missed her quiet, too.
“None for me,” Liddy said, hand on her belly. “Give Meg my share.”
“Of course,” Deena said. “What in the world was I thinking?” She poured two glasses and held one out to her daughter. “Looks like you need this. Lots of lines on your face tonight.”
When had her mother become so direct? “Thanks. I think.”
Liddy stood. “This baby, happy as I am to be growing him, is aging me. That’s for sure. But for someone who broke a bone only a few days ago, you look mahvelous dahling.”
Meg held up her glass. “You are too kind.”
“Okay, now, I hope you don’t think this strange, but I was out shopping today, strolling around the village, and saw something I thought you’d like.” She bent to pull something out of her bag. “It’s not practical at all, unless of course you consider something that will keep you anchored to the couch practical.”
Meg craned her neck to see. “What is it?”
Liddy pulled out a thick, hard-bound book, the colors on its jacketed cover vibrant. “Here. It’s a book about northern Italy. You’re always talking about seeing it someday, so I thought maybe, since you’re, you know, grounded for a while, that you might have time to dream a little.”
Unexpected tears filled her eyes. Must be the wine. “Liddy, it’s gorgeous.”
Her mother stepped across the room. “That is a beautiful book all right. And expensive too, I bet. I knew you liked to travel but didn’t know you were interested in Italy!”
Meg nodded. “So much of my travel is work related. Italy will be where I will go someday when I have time to explore.”
Her mother got up and headed toward the kitchen, wagging her head. “Will wonders never cease. Coming here was a stretch for me.” She continued to chatter while rummaging around in the kitchen. “I’ve never really cared to leave California. Don’t know how the travel bug bit you so hard.”
Meg didn’t either because her mother was right. She never traveled as a child, never even went on a plane until the time William sent her to a trade show in Phoenix. The biggest move she had made prior to that was when she left the middle of the state to drive to the coast. She packed a bag and a year’s worth of savings and headed west, stopping when she found the inn. She had never seen anywhere so beautiful in her life and knew she had come ho
me.
Meg looked at Liddy. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
Liddy watched her thoughtfully. “Can I get you anything else? You look more relaxed now than you did when you got home, but I’m guessing you’re still in some pain. Am I right?”
She sighed and glanced toward the kitchen. “I’m fine. It was a long day,” she said, carefully avoiding any mention of her conversation with Jackson, “but it’s good to be home now. I’m sure my mom will fulfill her maternal fussing quota tonight.”
Liddy laughed. “With that, then, I think I’ll get going. Beau will be home soon.” She leaned down and hugged her friend. “Enjoy the book … dream a little, my friend.”
Meg’s mother peeked through the kitchen doorway. “You leaving, Liddy?”
“Yes, I’m out of here, Deena. Going to feed my husband and”—she glanced down at her stomach— “the little peanut, too.”
“It was lovely to see you. Take care of that baby—and that husband of yours.” She took in the sight of her daughter resting on the couch. “I think I will be in town for a while.”
Liddy smiled, and as she left, sent Meg a knowing look.
Meg ran her hand over the hardbound book on her lap, the jumble of colors calming her more than anything she could recall. “Hey, Mom,” she called out.
Her mother came to the doorway.
“I’m thinking of just having something light and then curling up with this book tonight. Is that okay with you?”
Her mother joined her in the living room. “I think that is a wonderful idea. Let me bring you a salad—I know you like them—and I will bring you your pain meds too.” She glanced at Meg’s nearly untouched glass of wine. “Done with this?”
Meg nodded. “Sounds great, Mom.”
Her mother downed the glass of wine and headed off to the kitchen. As promised, she brought over a salad—an artful plate of greens, beets, and goat cheese—along with a pill to take the edge off Meg’s residual pain and a glass of water to wash it down. Shower and sleep were calling, but she could not resist another few minutes with the book Liddy had brought her. The last thing she remembered was being mesmerized by the juxtaposition of effervescent color, water, and an Italian hillside.
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