“We can come and have lunch with our friends any day.”
Lucille interrupted, leaning over to touch Bentley’s arm. “You could come every day, if you wanted. I’d save a seat for you.”
Ivy laughed. “But,” she carried on as if Lucille’s harmless flirting had been unheard, “Monday has the best food. So, every Monday that I’m not working, I come and eat with Lucille.”
Lucille reached over and put her hand on Ivy’s arm. “We have a longstanding tradition,” she said, not mentioning Grammy this time. Ivy knew they were both thinking of her.
When Lucille picked up her knife and fork, she added, “But the tradition can’t stand much longer.” Ivy watched her brow furrow, creating an impressive set of forehead wrinkles.
Bentley must have seen it, too. “Why not much longer?” he asked, spearing a canned green bean.
“Some rich young business tycoon needs to become richer.” Lucille took a bite of chicken, chewed slowly, and swallowed, knowing perfectly well that her audience was hooked. “The property has been sold, and within a couple of months, we all need to find new homes.”
Ivy picked up her plastic water cup and tipped it toward Lucille, who clinked hers against it. “Here’s to Titus Cameron and his excellent business sense,” Ivy said. “May he sleep well at night,” she added.
“Cheers,” Lucille said, tilting her glass to Bentley’s. He hesitated, then picked up his drink and touched it to Lucille’s.
Bentley made a weird face that he tried to hide, like he had a sudden stab of pain. Ivy guessed that he was uncomfortable knowing about other rich people behaving badly. It probably reflected on the whole group of them.
She kept her eye on him for a few seconds, waiting to see the discomfort go away.
It didn’t.
Lucille kept talking between bites. “Not that this is a palace,” she acknowledged. “I wouldn’t mind finding something cleaner, or brighter, or with an ocean view,” she said, winking. Not much of an ocean view to be found in Phoenix. “But,” she continued, “you get used to a place. It starts feeling like home after a couple decades.” She looked from Ivy to Bentley. “You’re going to have to take my word for it.”
Lucille launched into a story about someplace she’d lived when she’d been young and fabulous, and Ivy watched her with a smile. It was fun to entertain without having to do anything but show up; Lucille was enough entertainment for anyone. Bentley didn’t say anything much more at lunch, but with Lucille holding forth, nobody else needed to.
When Ivy noticed him checking his watch for the fourth time, she pushed her chair back from the table. “Lucille, thank you for having us join you for lunch today. I have an appointment, so we’d better head out.”
The appointment was a lie. She could simply tell that Bentley was uncomfortable. He hadn’t said a single word in more than half an hour. He still looked sick. He hadn’t been rude, and he’d nodded and smiled at Lucille’s stories, but he’d been quieter than Ivy had ever seen him. Sometimes places like this had that effect on people. It made them conscious of their mortality or something. Time to get him back out in the fresh air.
“Can we walk you back to your room?” she asked.
Lucille agreed. She put herself between Ivy and Bentley this time, but they made eye contact over her head. He gave Ivy a smile that both reassured her that he was okay and sent a shiver across her shoulders.
As Lucille reached her door, she said, “Well, Ben. It has been a real pleasure.” Even though Ivy had heard Bentley introduce himself that way, it seemed strange for Lucille to call him that. “Next time you come, make sure there’s time to stay a while. We can talk some more and play some more cards.” Ivy knew that although they’d spent more than two hours in the Glen, it must always feel a little lonely to someone like Lucille when people left.
“Thank you,” Bentley said. “I’d love to come see you again.”
“If you bring a chaperone,” Lucille said, pointing to Ivy, “I’ll invite you in to my lounge.” She gestured into the small room, where a bed, a recliner, and a tiny table filled most of the space. Ivy saw him run his eyes over the room, and she wondered if he was measuring it against one of his father’s hotel spaces. It wouldn’t compare, Ivy imagined, although she’d never stayed in a Hollis hotel. Way outside her budget.
Lucille leaned her cheek up for a kiss from Ivy, and then did the same to Bentley. If he was shocked by her forwardness, he didn’t show it.
“Bye, Lucille. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye, sweetie. Ben, you come back any time.” She let herself into her room and waved at them.
As they turned to walk back to the front door, Ivy was surprised to feel Bentley reach for her hand, his grip stiff and anxious, if a grip could be called anxious. She gave his fingers a squeeze, but he kept his eyes straight ahead. Maybe he wasn’t handling the place as well as she’d thought.
It wasn’t a romantic hand-holding. More like she was helping him. Like he’d fall over or be sick or something if she let go.
He kept her hand in clutch as they walked down the hall, past the front desk, and out the door. Ivy waved to Roxie as she left, and Roxie’s eyebrows raised in either appreciation or confusion, it was hard to tell from behind the monitor.
Once they got outside, Ivy expected him to relax.
He didn’t.
If anything, he got even stiffer as they walked to the bus stop a couple of blocks away. And his eyes darted from one building to another.
He was still squeezing her hand, and she was starting to lose feeling in her fingers.
“Did you,” she finally asked, “steal something?”
He looked at her, startled. “Do you mean, like, ever?”
She shook her head. “I meant today. Right now. Because you seem… shifty.” She mimed hunching over and looking from side to side. “I think I should get a warning if you’re planning to get apprehended by the authorities or anything.”
That did it. His neck released some of the tension, and he laughed.
“I’m certainly planning not to be apprehended by anyone in authority.”
“Huh,” she said. “I see how you did not actually answer my question.” She turned her head to look at him more straightforwardly. In a serious voice, she asked, “Is this your secret? Did your family make their fortune stealing spoons from elder-care centers?”
He shrugged as if the secret was out. “You guessed our secret. It’s all spoons, all the time.”
They went on laughing, but she noticed that he never actually told her what was bothering him. Well, that was his right. He could keep a secret if he wanted to.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bentley couldn’t keep a secret if he wanted to. As soon as he said goodbye to Ivy, he phoned his dad.
“Help,” he said. He knew he sounded desperate, but that was okay. He was desperate.
“What’s up?” Walter asked.
Bentley sighed. “I just visited Centennial Glen.”
Walter’s voice came through the phone sounding gentle and unruffled by this information. “Mmm. The care center on the renovation block?”
Bentley could feel his pulse quickening in opposition to Walter’s calm. “Dad. The people who live there. I can’t be responsible for kicking them out.”
His dad made a sound of encouragement, but he didn’t say anything.
“Tell me what to do.”
Now Walter gave a quiet laugh. “I know that’s not what you mean.”
“No, I know. But I can’t do this.”
Walter cleared his throat. “Hard choices.”
Bentley made a noise of exasperation. “You’re really not going to tell me what to do, are you?”
“I think,” his dad answered, “that you should ask Ivy what you should do.”
Bentley’s answer came quickly. “She’s too emotionally invested. And she doesn’t know anything about business.”
“You sure?”
“Dad, I know she’s char
med you. She’s charmed me, too. But this is business.”
Walter made another sound of polite agreement, but somehow it sounded as if it wasn’t agreement at all.
Bentley rubbed his hand along his jaw. “Okay. I hear you. Thanks for your help, Dad.”
As soon as he ended the call, he phoned Lex. “I can’t do this,” he said.
“Do what?” She sounded bored, but then, she usually sounded bored. It was, as she had been telling him for years, part of her “brand.”
“We have to pull out of the development deal. The new one in Phoenix proper. The flagship store.”
She blew out her breath in an almost-laugh. “Right.”
“I’m serious, Lex. It’s no good.”
“I beg your pardon, Titus, but might I remind you that it is very, very good indeed?”
He looked around, as if anyone in a passing car might have heard her call him that. “No. I mean it. I went there.”
Through the phone, it sounded like she sat up straighter. “You went to the site? And you’re saying it doesn’t look like what Gary showed us?”
It would have been so easy to say yes. But yes wasn’t true. “Not exactly. I went to the care center and it’s not okay with me to tear it down and displace all those people.”
He could practically feel the exasperated gust of air through the phone. “Bentley. Edward. Hollis. You did not. Tell me right now that you did not just go into that nursing home and announce yourself, fall in love with a bunch of old people, and ruin this deal for our company.” How could he deny it? Well, he hadn’t announced himself. And he hadn’t ruined any deals. Not yet. But he couldn’t say that. Somehow, he knew that would not cut it. Not for Lexus.
“Come on, Lex. What do you take me for? No. I went there on a date.”
She laughed. Then she said, “Wait. You are kidding, aren’t you?”
He thought about sitting with Lucille at the piano, trying not to notice Ivy watching him. She was a terrible distraction. “Not kidding. Not about any of it.”
“Back up and tell me all of it,” his sister demanded.
He did. “Ivy and I went to lunch at the care center. She works there. It’s her other job.”
Lex’s dry sarcasm slid through the connection. “What a coincidence.”
“You don’t have to like her, Lex, but you can’t convince me that she’s sabotaging us. She’s not.”
“Right. She’s an angel. In combat boots. So. You and the angel went to lunch at the crumbling home for the downtrodden elderly.”
He decided to let that slide. It wasn’t worth the argument.
“Yes, we did. And yes, I met a few people. And of course I fell in love with them. You would too.”
He heard a clicking sound through the phone, as if she were tapping her nails against a table. “Something I very much doubt.”
He breathed through his frustration. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for your best human impulses. You’d love it there. Well, you’d love the people. Okay, you’d love Lucille.”
“Getting off track,” Lex sang.
“Lexus, we can’t put these people out of their home.”
Lex cleared her throat. “Benny? Listen to me. Tell me you’re listening.”
Why did he let his younger sister boss him around like this? “I’m listening.”
“Say it with me: The building is condemned.” She paused, but he was fairly sure she wasn’t going to make him say it. “We can’t stop it from coming down. But we can prevent that excellent property from housing an auto lube place and a state liquor store. We can be responsible for creating something truly wonderful for the community.”
She was using her PR voice.
It was working.
“Okay, but wait. Couldn’t we buy the block and renovate the care center?” he asked, stopping at the intersection to wait for the light to turn green.
“Sure,” she said, impatience weighing down the word. “Let’s just put up a big plastic sheet over half the building, shove all the old people into the other half, and fix it right up.”
How did she manage to take his good ideas and make them sound stupid?
“Look, Benny, you’re just feeling emotional. Step away from all of it for a minute, or a few hours anyway, and you’ll remember why this is such an amazing opportunity. And why it’s the best thing for the business.” She must have moved the phone, because he heard her earring hit the screen. “Okay. I have to get going. Don’t worry. This is the right thing to do.”
She made a kiss noise into the phone and hung up. Bentley shoved his phone into his pocket and shook his head. He really ought to learn to stand up to his sister. Or anyone, for that matter. Maybe he should start with someone easier than Lex: an eastern European dictator, for example.
Bentley walked down the sidewalk toward the parking garage, watching people walk into stores and businesses. On a Monday afternoon, foot traffic was moderate, but he could guess which shops were going to get which customers. It was a skill he’d always had. Even as a little boy, he could match a consumer with a product. One of his father’s favorite games was to point out a man or a woman and ask Bentley to tell him which car they’d get inside. He could do it with astounding accuracy. At least it was astounding to his father. To Bentley, it was simple. A combination of posture, clothes, accessories, and speed would give away the choice of transportation almost every time.
This skill made Bentley a good gift giver. He knew what people would choose for themselves. As opposed to Lexus, who knew what people ought to choose for themselves. He always gave Lex a gift she really wanted and loved. Lex always gave him something Lex already owned, loved, and was certain, in her bossy younger sister way, would make Bentley’s life happier.
Bentley could guess—from the moment he met her—that Ivy didn’t drive. Ivy, obviously, had a bus pass. And a secondhand bike. It wasn’t a matter of spending money. Ivy simply carried herself like a person who chose public transit and bicycle power. There was a statement in the choice—a decision about consumption. When he’d picked her up at her apartment, he knew he’d been right. Her bike leaned against the outer door, chained to the metal stair railing, and an old paper bus schedule was tacked to the inside of her door. It looked like it’d been there for decades. He wondered if she still used it, if it was even close to accurate, or if it was somehow sentimental. Something he could ask her about another day. He was saving up things to ask her about.
When his phone buzzed in his pocket, it startled him out of a fantasy of walking down this street, Ivy’s hand in his.
He looked at the display and felt his heart plummet. Not that he didn’t want to talk to Gary, but he’d have much rather have taken a call from Ivy. “Hello?”
“Bentley, Gary Northrup.”
It was one small annoyance in a list of small annoyances. Instead of saying, “Yes, Gary, I know it’s you because your name magically appears on my phone when you call, and besides, how many Garys do you think I know?” he simply repeated, “Hello.”
Gary always treated Bentley like a child, which was only fair, since he’d known Bentley since he was in diapers. But Bentley figured a business degree, a multi-million-dollar franchise, and the fact that he now signed Gary’s paychecks would have convinced him to talk to Bentley like an adult. When he’d complained to Lex about it, she told him that Gary wasn’t talking down to him. She said he talked that way to everyone.
Somehow it didn’t help knowing that the guy was condescending to all the people he spoke to.
Gary was talking, a steady stream of numbers he felt the need to report right now, over the phone, without checking if Bentley was in any state to listen.
After a minute, Gary switched tactics. “I hear you’ve got a concern about the flagship property.”
Dammit, Lex.
It was the first time in the call that Gary paused enough to suggest Bentley should contribute to the conversation. “As a matter of fact, I do have a few concerns.”
As if he’d not said a thing, Gary rattled off reasons Bentley should not worry about anything. Reasons Gary had checked, double-checked, and nailed down all of Bentley’s apprehensions.
Bentley wasn’t new to this. He recognized when he was being bulldozed. So he changed tactics. Without waiting for a break in Gary’s monologue, he spoke.
“I want to tell people I’m Titus.”
Well, if nothing else, that did make Gary Northrup stop talking.
Bentley hadn’t known this was what he wanted until he said it. Gary’s stunned silence only served to underscore the rightness of the idea.
“I’m ready to become public.”
He could hear Gary breathing, so he knew the shock hadn’t actually killed him, but Gary had no comeback.
“I know we agreed that I’d work in the shop sixty days before taking over solo control and making any public announcement, but I would like to reconsider that. I will continue to take shifts and do hours, but I am ready to tell people who I am.”
He knew he was repeating himself, but Gary still wasn’t responding.
“Let’s put this on the agenda for tomorrow’s meeting,” Bentley said, and then, knowing it wasn’t quite fair, but not caring too much about it, he said, “Thanks for the call and the updates. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Hanging up had never felt so good. Bentley felt empowered. Bold. He slid the phone into his pocket and turned around on the sidewalk. There was only one person he really wanted to tell. He made his way back to Ivy’s building. On his way up the stairs, he waved at Mr. Thompson on the second floor who put his head outside his apartment door. Bentley jogged up the steps and knocked on Ivy’s door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“All right, all right. I’m coming,” Ivy muttered toward the banging on the door. She pulled it open to see Bentley Hollis, standing there looking red in the cheeks and slightly winded. It was, on balance, a big improvement from the slightly-green Bentley who had left her at her door half an hour ago.
Always & Forever: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection, Books 1 - 4) Page 28