Silenced

by Alicia Renee Kline

  Then she spied her granddaughter and all serious conversation was over.

  Chills ran down my spine as I handed Sadie over to her, seeing my daughter cradled in the arms of her only grandmother. It was a moment that I wasn’t aware would be so poignant, stained as it was by the circumstances. In the back of my mind, I’d envisioned this very scene the second Patricia had made the first contact. Something that I’d never thought Sadie would ever have - more than my father as a grandparent.

  But was what it cost to get to this point worth it?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gracie

  Painful. It was so fucking painful to watch Blake mope around at the studio that I almost ended the moratorium on talking about her family issues there. It wasn’t as though I could convince her to come out for drinks with me after work some night. For all intents and purposes, she was like a backwards vampire. If she didn’t rush home right after she finished up at the shop, I feared she’d burst into flames.

  So when she breezed through the front door, looking remarkably like her former self, I was more than suspicious. Though I’d beaten her into the office yet again, at least the glasses were gone and her hair was long and loose, falling like platinum silk over her shoulders instead of in the haphazard bun of late. She was dressed up, pantsuit and heels, nails freshly manicured, makeup impeccable.

  I was almost afraid to ask. Almost, but not quite.

  “Alright, I’ll bite. What the hell happened to you?”

  It was as if she didn’t hear me. Her attention was fully on booting up her laptop, which she began even before sliding into the leather chair behind her desk. She dropped her purse into the bottom desk drawer and tapped her finger on the desktop as she waited for the home screen on the computer to load up.

  “I want to show you something,” she said instead. “Come here.”

  My eyes rolled involuntarily as I vacated my stool and went to stand beside her.

  “This better be good,” I warned, folding my arms under my breasts as I waited. “I’ve struck the jackpot when it comes to inspiration over there.” I motioned to the worktable, where the sample books were practically screaming my name.

  “It is,” she promised.

  She rubbed her hands together in anticipation, typing in her password with a flourish. She opened up her internet browser and went straight to her email client.

  I tapped one stiletto heeled foot impatiently as I waited. “You called me over for moral support while you check your spam?”

  She sighed deeply, clearly enjoying drawing out the process. And for her to clearly enjoy anything these days was earth shattering. For that reason alone, I dialed back my annoyance.

  “You’ve been riding my ass ever since I got married to change the name of the company. And in light of recent events, I decided that now was a perfect time to retire Snyder Designs.”

  Her face kind of fell at that, but she soldiered on.

  “Actually, I’d been thinking about doing this for quite some time, but things pressed my hand a little. So I’ve been meeting with my lawyer for the past few months, drafting the paperwork to dissolve the old company and create a new one. I was just waiting for the right moment to come by to finalize everything, and if that wasn’t an omen, I don’t know what is.”

  She tapped her finger on a manila file folder she must have carried in along with the computer. Thick with documents, I wondered how I’d been able to miss it.

  “I want you to look through that stuff later today,” she prefaced, “I know there’s a lot there, but it’s really important. Take a couple of days to review it, then let me know what you think.”

  “Have you gone nuts?” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. “I used to be a bank teller, not a damn attorney. I’m sure that if your lawyer says everything’s on the up and up, then it is. It’s just a name change anyway.”

  She ignored me, obviously the theme of her day. The annoyance began to creep slowly back to the surface. Yet I stood at her side as commanded, while she clicked a few times on her mouse and checked her inbox.

  “So anyway,” she said when she was good and ready, “with a name change comes a new logo. For that, I hired a graphic designer to whip something up. And though he warned me that he sent it over this morning, I haven’t taken a look at it yet. I wanted both of us to see it for the first time together.”

  “Okay,” I shrugged.

  “Close your eyes,” she urged.

  “Really?” I whined, even as I acquiesced. Before my eyes slipped shut, I saw her position her hand on the mouse so it hovered over the link to the file she intended to open, then close her eyes as well. What a strange one she was.

  “Ready?” she prompted.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Okay, then. Three, two, one. Go.”

  I heard the click of her mouse, then I pried open my lids, almost afraid of what I’d find.

  As it was, it took me a moment to understand.

  On the screen was a new logo for sure, but instead of the simple change from “Snyder” to “Taylor” that I expected, I stared at something totally different. The first letter of each word was splashed across the computer in a messy, stylistic script. The remainder of the lettering was in a more traditional, though undoubtedly modern font. The result was a contemporary feel, which was aesthetically pleasing for sure, but it wasn’t what gave me pause.

  “Do you like it?” she pressed, as if she hadn’t noticed I was rendered speechless.

  My mouth opened and closed as I tried to form coherent thoughts.

  “Gracie?”

  “It says ‘Taylor Alexander Design Studio’,” I managed.

  “It does,” she confirmed.

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because this -” I motioned around the back room like a game show hostess, “this is all yours. Not mine. Not any part of it.”

  Again, her attention fixed on the file folder taking up residence on her desk. With a nod of her head, she directed me to it as if it held the answers to all my questions. And as far as she was concerned, it did.

  “That’s what all that is about. It’s all the client lists, all the profit and loss statements from the inception of the company, anything and everything you’d ever want to know about the business. After you’ve gone through it, if you have any questions, feel free to ask. I’ve got no problem with full disclosure. You’ll also notice there’s a rough draft of a partnership agreement, in which everything from this point forward would be split equally between the two of us.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  She bit her lip, a response I’d seen from her time and again when she was trying to decide how best to phrase something. The words were right there on the tip of her tongue; she just needed to recite them in a way that would bring me to her desired conclusion.

  “Let’s go sit down,” she stalled, rising from the desk chair and leading me over to the worktable. We assumed our usual positions, but we weren’t gearing up for our daily chatter over a cup of coffee.

  Though clearly she wanted me to be her equal and was making quite the bold move to show it, right now I felt like I had been called down to the principal’s office. My reaction to her unveiling hadn’t lived up to her expectations. Even worse, I’d questioned her motives. This had little to do with my beliefs regarding my own self-worth, and everything to do with the recent demeanor of the woman before me.

  If I hadn’t been convinced that she was making major decisions irrationally because of her inner turmoil, I would have uncapped my pen and signed the damn paperwork that second. I’d be stupid not to. Who would turn down a hefty share in a successful business, given to me on a silver platter? Not me. But I also needed to make sure she wasn’t setting herself up for a lifetime of regrets because of it.

  “You know the story of why I asked you to come on board,” she began. “I told you back then that I didn’t want an assistant; I didn’t need someone to run and get me lun
ch or pick up merchandise. And though to this day I still think you believe you were a pity hire, you weren’t.

  “I had this gut feeling about you, Gracie. It was quite clear to me that you don’t take shit from anyone. You’re not a pushover. And our personalities mesh. We compliment one another, and I picked up on that early on, the few times that we met because of Lauren.”

  At the mention of her sister-in-law, she winced, a motion so quick I almost didn’t see.

  “I’m not able to teach someone how to be strong-willed. But I can take someone and impart my design knowledge on them. Then I found out while planning the wedding and the baby’s room that you had raw talent for that stuff anyway, and my mind was made up.”

  Another wince as she remembered better times, forcing herself to name them in order to get to her point.

  “Look, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I said quickly. “I know the history behind things and as much as I enjoy hearing how awesome I am, it’s not really necessary. I just don’t want you to make a huge mistake by giving away part of your empire.”

  “It would be more of a mistake if I didn’t.”

  “Blake, I don’t know what to say. I have no idea where this is coming from, and I just need to make sure that you really mean this. That you’re not going to wake up one day and wish that you hadn’t signed away half of everything you built. Things that I wasn’t here to create.”

  “I’ve thought about this a lot. I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “You know you can’t buy my loyalty, right?”

  “It’s not about that.”

  “Are you sure? Because you said it yourself, but maybe you didn’t notice that I can separate what goes on outside these walls from my job. And I don’t care who you aren’t talking to right now; it’s not going to interfere with what I do when I’m at work. You don’t have to buy my work ethic, or even my friendship for that matter. I’m here because I want to be. End of story.”

  “Trust me. This idea started way before any of the crap that’s going on with my brother or your best friend. In fact, I damn near left the evidence of it in your Lexus the weekend I had it at my place. Yes, I have underlying motives, but they aren’t what you think.”

  My eyebrow raised. “Which are?”

  “If I do end up getting pregnant, I’ll need you to take over for me temporarily. Even if I never do, the fact of the matter is that you’re picking up your own clients now and you deserve to be compensated for that. It’s not fair to you to do exactly what I do and not have any say.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve never felt like my creativity was stifled because I didn’t have some fancy title or an ownership stake. I’ve already got the keys to the castle so to speak.”

  “And this will make it official. So that if I do have to step away for a while, it won’t be a big deal. Clients will already be used to you in a role of authority and it will just be business as usual. If we do this now, there’s plenty of time for us to work out the kinks so that you’re not uncomfortable with the changes.”

  “You know I’d do all that for you anyway, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Her ocean blue eyes bore into mine as she silently dared me to argue with her. And as much as I knew I still wasn’t getting the whole story, I couldn’t fight with that assessment. Time and again, I’d done everything that she’d asked of me and done it well. This would be no different, whether or not my name was on the signage out front.

  I sighed, relenting. Her lips turned upwards as she correctly deduced what that meant.

  “Fine. I’ll take a look at everything to make you happy. And maybe you’re right. Maybe this is one less thing for you to worry about. You’re never going to get pregnant when you’re stressed the hell out.”

  “Take as much time as you need. I won’t be mad if you want to run this by your own lawyer.”

  I snorted. Like I would have reason to have an attorney on retainer. Maybe in Blake’s world that was a given, but it wasn’t in mine. And while I was certain she could provide me with a recommendation, I was just as convinced that her father’s name wouldn’t be on that list. And whatever firm she was going through wouldn’t be a fit for an unbiased opinion either. It was a wonderful thing that I knew she wasn’t screwing me over.

  “I just have one condition for all of this,” she said as an aside, as if it was an afterthought.

  “What?”

  I could only imagine the caveat that was about to be uttered.

  “You have to promise not to change your name anytime soon.”

  This brought a genuine laugh, as it was so totally ridiculous.

  “No worries on that front,” I confirmed.

  “That’s what you think. I don’t care what Will tells you right now; it’s going to happen eventually. And when it does, the new logo will be on your dime.”

  “Never gonna happen. Besides, Gracie Delaney doesn’t have a good ring to it. It sounds too cute. It almost rhymes. And we can’t be having that.”

  Blake smirked, the most relaxed I’d seen her in weeks. And if joking about fictional nuptials and gifting me half of her business was what brought it about, then so be it. Sufficiently pleased with my decision to at least entertain her proposition, she excused herself to one of the many appointments she’d booked for the day.

  Blake could have her gut feelings, but I also had mine. So the minute the chime over the front door announced her departure, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed the first person I could think of.

  “Christopher,” I greeted his voice mail, “I think we need to talk.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Blake

  I hadn’t been lying to Gracie when I told her that business had picked up to the point that I could no longer handle it on my own. Even with her taking on her own book of clients now, I still had a full day’s worth of appointments on my plate after I’d made her the offer. With flitting back and forth across Fort Wayne all day, I hadn’t had much time to breathe, let alone think about Gracie’s less than enthusiastic response or my messy family issues. And that was exactly the way I wanted it.

  So it wasn’t surprising that Chris was home before I was. His Civic was parked in our driveway, a welcome sight when I turned the Miata towards the cul-de-sac lot. My stomach rumbled, a not so quiet reminder that I’d only grabbed a quick snack all day, and I hoped that he’d been home long enough to start something for dinner. If anyone in our household cooked, it was normally Chris. I could use a bit of normalcy in my life lately.

  My convertible was simple enough to maneuver around Chris’s car to slide into the garage next to the Trailblazer. Even though the Civic was his baby, and was as showroom perfect as the day my father had presented it to me during high school, Chris hadn’t fought me for a space in the garage upon moving in after our marriage. I certainly hadn’t suggested it, figuring that since I’d sacrificed my round bed for him, he could give up covered parking for me.

  As if he could read my mind, Chris was standing in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot on the range top when I entered from the kitchen. I stepped out of my heels upon crossing the threshold, hooking my fingers around the ankle straps and carrying them with me as I walked up behind him.

  “Hey there, angel,” he greeted without looking up.

  “Hey yourself.”

  I wrapped my free arm around his waist and pressed myself against his back, my cheek nuzzling in between his shoulder blades. He’d been home for a while, long enough to shower and change clothes. I could feel the lingering warmth from the hot steam through the soft cotton of his t-shirt, prompting me to close my eyes and breathe him in.

  “What are you making?” I asked, my eyes still shut.

  “Chicken noodle soup. And before you knock it, I decided that it sounded good. It’s comfort food, and we all know we could use a bit of that right now.”

  “I wasn’t about to say a word. I am about to change out of these clothes, though. Too bad you�
�re preoccupied.”

  Chris laughed, just about the same time as my hunger voiced itself.

  “Sounds like your stomach is overriding your horniness. Don’t worry; there’ll be plenty of time for both.”

  “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

  I pulled away from him, en route to the bedroom to throw on a pair of sweats and a tee. As I breezed through the living room, my eyes reflexively traveled to the front door. The damage that Matthew had left behind was just a memory, the hole in the drywall repaired by my husband. Chris had taken it upon himself to fix it after I’d left it untouched for a few days, a bitter reminder of the last time I’d seen my brother. One day I’d come home from work and the wall had been back to its former pristine presence, fresh coat of paint and all. Neither one of us had spoken of it since.

  Yet in my mind, I still saw the indentation of my brother’s fist there, the culmination of our disagreement. Chris could remove the visual evidence, but the underlying problem wasn’t as easily disposed of. My relationship with Matthew was perhaps broken beyond belief.

  But what was done was done, and the wounds were still too fresh not to sting. Matthew’s motives were different than mine; we no longer were on the same side. And I knew that he wouldn’t allow me to agree to disagree. If I attempted to mend fences with him, he’d waste no time in trying to get me to entertain the thought of a reconciliation with our mother. That wasn’t part of my endgame, so I needed to cut myself off from him as well.

  For now.

  For now, all I wanted to do was relax with my husband for an evening and forget all about the outside world. And apparently eat some soup while doing so.

  When I returned to the kitchen, clad in lounge clothes and sans makeup, hair secured in a ponytail, Chris had already set the table in the breakfast nook. He had taken a seat at one end, so I sat opposite him as indicated by the steaming bowl in front of the empty chair.