Torn

by Lauren Dane

  He was so sweet. If he was going to be an asshole she could fend him off. But it felled her, ripped all her defenses down, when the tenderness he evoked rushed through her. He’d gotten up and made her coffee. Kept her company while she’d gotten ready to leave. Even walked her to her car. And now he was offering to be a human shield between her and her mother.

  “Thank you but I think it’s going to be okay. The last few times I’ve spoken to her on the phone she’s been mellow and happy. I’ll see you tonight.”

  They were headed out to some art opening with Gregori and Wren. Most of their friends would make an appearance, she figured. It was her chance to dress up a little. Look extra sexy. A coming-out party of sorts for their relationship and also for the next stage in her life.

  “Fine. I’m at the condo working today so if you need me, text or call.”

  Then, he captured her heart by actually blowing her a kiss. His smirk at her pleased reaction only thrilled her more.

  “Don’t forget to save me some of everything tasty,” she managed to say. She’d been going for sassy but mainly she managed to pull off slightly askew.

  He rapped three times on the roof of her car and stepped back. “Drive carefully and text me when you get there.”

  She could have scoffed at such a thing, but instead she nodded, agreeing because she knew she’d like the same in reverse. He still stood watching her as she turned the corner and headed toward the freeway.

  Her parents lived about twenty minutes east of Seattle, across the lake in old Bellevue. Their house, the one Cora had grown up in, was surrounded by three acres her father had slowly transformed into a series of garden spaces that she never failed to find magic in.

  There was always something new like the bench carved from the prow of an old sailing ship he’d surrounded in a wash of some sort of purple-and-white flowers he said would appear in late spring.

  Her mother rarely came out into the gardens, but for the one he’d designed for her just outside the sunroom. Elegant. Roses with marble benches and water features. In the winter he made sure the portable heaters were in place near where she liked to sit best and in the summer, he’d created a pergola of wild climbing roses and wisteria that had made the most wonderful shady spot to while away the day.

  The rest of the acreage had been changed at least once over the years. Sometimes he’d come back with a ceramic pot or some wind chimes that turned out to be the seed of some new plan either at home or in someone else’s.

  It made her happy to make that left turn up the long, meandering drive, lined by maples and ornamental cherry trees. The house sat around a curve, positioned perfectly to catch views of the mountains and the grounds beyond.

  Finley’s car and Beto’s motorcycle already waited out front and Cora wasn’t ashamed to admit how relieved she was that they were already there.

  She parked on the other side of Finley and headed inside through the big hand-carved door her mother had brought back from Italy twenty years before.

  The house smelled really good, which meant her father had spent the morning making the fish stew that starred in many a family meal.

  He came into the hall from the kitchen, smiling big when he caught sight of her. “Come give me a kiss then, Cora,” he told her, opening his arms for a hug.

  He embraced her, and then kissed her cheek before offering his arm and taking her into the dining room where her siblings waited, along with their mother.

  There was a flurry of greetings, cheek kissing and exchanging of compliments as Cora managed to put her bag and coat down.

  Big band music played throughout the house and her mother already had a glass of rosé in her hand.

  “I just pulled the bread from the oven. Beto, bring the salad and the vegetables. Finley, the rice,” her father called out. Cora brought over a pitcher of tea and one of juice. Even Walda helped, bringing over a platter of fruit.

  Once they’d been eating awhile, her mother gave Cora a careful once-over. “So tell me already.”

  “Beto is going to join Dad’s firm full-time,” Cora said to start.

  Her father smiled, happy about that choice as he sopped up soup with a piece of crusty French bread.

  “Maybe now you can work less,” Walda told her husband. “Who will take his place at the gallery?” she asked.

  “It’s the other way around,” Beto said. “I’ve only been there as a stopgap when Cora is away. She’s already running the gallery.”

  Their mother turned to Cora. “And you? You’re going to do the job of two people? Who’ll manage when you’re gone? I suggest we hire someone to run the gallery. That way no one is impacted by Beto working with your father.”

  No one? No one but Cora, apparently.

  “You make a good point about staffing. I think it’s time for me to step away from being your assistant and to put all my focus on the gallery.”

  Walda didn’t move any muscle in her body but the ones that brought her left eyebrow to slowly rise. Imperious.

  “I see.”

  Cora didn’t take the bait. “I’ve written up job descriptions for replacements. I’ve divided up what I do between a house manager and a personal assistant for your business affairs.”

  “Very tidy.”

  The air hung thick with tension. Normally Cora would be finding ways around it, but right then it just pissed her off.

  “Not really tidy at all. I do a lot for you, so it’s not easy to find a replacement. There are multiple steps.” Cora waved a hand, a conscious echo of when her mother waved away things she didn’t care to hear. “We’ll muddle through. I’ve spoken with several people who are assistants to high-powered people and have received great advice and a few referrals. I’ve brought you over copies of the ad. I’ve spoken with Kay, who will continue to work here, along with whoever we hire for you.”

  “Strangers in my house? You know my feeling about that. I won’t have it. I used to handle my career myself—I’ll do it again,” her mother snapped. “If you’re going to abandon me, fine. But you won’t spend my money to dump me on strangers while you run my gallery like an ungrateful brat.”

  “Hey!” Beto cried, his hands up in entreaty.

  Cora pulled herself together. Her mom struck out when she was uncertain. If she responded in kind, the entire discussion would get derailed.

  She shot a grateful look at her brother before she said to her mother, “You haven’t handled your career yourself in nearly three decades. Before it was me, it was Dad and your manager. You still have a manager, of course, and I’m working with her on this process. In your contracts, you have the option of the label paying for staff. That enables us to cast a wider net and also, let’s be honest, get someone willing to deal with you.”

  It was worth whatever fallout to get to watch her mom’s eyes widen so comically at being spoken to that way.

  Her father hid a smile behind his napkin and Finley gave a slow clap.

  “I don’t need you and I certainly don’t need two people to replace one,” her mother said after a glare Finley’s way.

  “Two people doing the work will save them both from getting burned-out. I want you to take the next few days to think about just exactly how many things I do for you on a daily basis. It’ll be an excellent exercise so we can make sure to hire someone who knows how to do each job best.” And perhaps it’d give her mother pause when she realized just how much Cora did for her. In any case, Cora had no plans to engage with her mom’s claim that she didn’t need to be taken care of.

  “That’s an excellent point,” her father said. Ever the peacemaker.

  “Stop trying to handle me. I detest being handled.”

  If Cora hadn’t known her mother so well, she might have missed the hurt in her tone. Hidden behind the aggressive bitchiness.

  She was scared. And getting older. And thing
s were changing and that was hard on everyone no matter what the age. Cora reminded herself to be gentle with her mom when she could.

  “Why am I only hearing about this now if you’ve been so miserable working with me?”

  Beto muttered something under his breath but it was such classic Walda that all Cora could do was be amused by the drama.

  “I’ve spoken to you about this a few times. About what I wanted for the gallery. This last trip was very hard on you and we discussed changing what your schedule looks like. I did consider talking to you privately, but to be frank, this is a family business. You’re the family business just as the gallery is the family business. And Pai’s firm. Beto’s shift there and my move to the gallery full-time will change the dynamic at both places as well as here and with you. It seemed best that with all those moving parts that we handle it as a family.”

  That, and she deserved the backup from her siblings and father.

  “But you assume you have the job running the gallery? Without even discussing this with me? You’re very young to be a director. We should do a wider search,” her mother said.

  “I know that gallery better than anyone else. You included,” Cora said. “You could fire me—because you have to know I’d leave if you hired anyone else. It would suck. I’d have to find another job and it would take some time. But I would. Because I’m good at what I do.” And if they hired anyone else, she’d never speak to her parents again.

  Her mother’s back was ramrod straight. She was pissed off because she knew she was boxed in. She’d said something in the heat of the moment and it was fire Cora right then or admit she was wrong.

  Her father smoothly entered the fray. “You’re very good at what you do. Of course you are. I think this is a fine idea, Cora. Walda, wasn’t I just saying that the next time you have to travel I wanted to be there? With Beto at the firm, I can do that. And the gallery has flourished with Cora at the helm, which I’m sure you already know,” her father said to her mother.

  “So you knew about this?” she asked him.

  Her dad took her mother’s hand, kissing her knuckles before putting it back. “I knew Beto was coming to work with me full-time. I had my suspicions about Cora’s intentions but figured she’d tell us all when she was ready to.”

  “I had no idea I was a burden to be discussed in quiet tones behind my back.” Her mother sniffed, all offense and spines.

  Cora wanted so badly to lean over and grab her mom’s glass and take a big gulp of wine.

  “No one is saying you’re a burden,” Finley said, exasperation in her voice.

  “She knows that,” Cora replied. “I’m discussing you in a regular voice to your face. This isn’t a negative thing. Your career has changed. You don’t travel as much but when you do, it’s for long stints. I don’t want that anymore. I want to build a life here, with roots and a dog and a job that fulfills me. I’m not rejecting you, as you well know.”

  Finley gave her an approving look.

  “You do have a life here! An overpriced town house in Queen Anne. Friends. Your family. It’s not as if I forbade you from having a dog if you worked for me. I’m eccentric after all. I’m allowed to bring a dog with me anytime I like. You can too.”

  Cora said to her mom, “I love you very much. And I had a wonderful time working for you. I’m grateful for all I was able to see and do. But I want something different. Which is not about you. It’s about me. I’ll help this transition be as smooth as possible. Things will work out and be just fine. I’m not falling off the planet. If there are questions, I’ll still be around for your new assistants to contact. I can be here in minutes if necessary and my phone is always on.”

  Walda, backed into a corner, said nothing else, but the flat line of her lips hinted at future trouble for Cora.

  And still Cora couldn’t deny the invigoration pumping through her system. She’d taken a stand and held her own and hadn’t allowed herself to be baited into saying something she’d regret.

  She wasn’t an angel or anything. She’d save all her shit talk for behind her mom’s back, in private to her friends or Beau.

  “This is a good time for us. For our family,” her father said as he held up his teacup. “I love you all and I’m proud of what your mother and I built.”

  The stubborn line of her mother’s mouth softened. For all her flaws, no one could say Walda didn’t adore her husband. And when he was sweet and charming, like he was right then, absolutely impossible not to be sweetened up by.

  As he’d planned.

  Everyone raised their various cups and glasses in salute and drank.

  “Did Finley tell you Ink Sisters was named one of Seattle’s best tattoo shops?” Cora asked her parents, hoping she could keep things on a positive track.

  Her sister blushed, ducking her head a moment to hide her pleased embarrassment.

  As Finley filled their parents in on the upcoming magazine issue featuring her shop, Cora sat back, smiling. Fin worked her ass off to build her business. Slowly but surely creating a client base and a good reputation. Bringing on artists across the spectrum of styles and approaches until Ink Sisters had come into its own.

  Cora thought it was totally badass and said so, only a little less curse word filled.

  Her sister was still pink from her blush, grinning as she thanked Cora.

  “Are you still seeing that boy?” her mother asked.

  “Beau? Yes, I’m seeing him still.” It made her warm inside that he’d offered to come with her that day, even if he really had no idea what he’d been volunteering for.

  “You turn red every time you mention his name and I think that’s adorable,” Beto said with a wink.

  “Hmm. This is uncharacteristic, much like this whole plan to abandon me and run the gallery. Is that related to him?” her mother asked.

  Cora sucked in a breath and steeled herself. She hadn’t expected her mother to go that way. Silly, of course, a blind spot when it came to Beau perhaps.

  “Related to him how?”

  “This rejection of your family!” her mother exclaimed.

  “Oh for goodness’ sake,” Cora muttered. “I’d already decided to shift to the gallery full-time before we returned from London. Before I’d even reconnected with him. And I’m not so weak that I’d just let some dude tell me what to think or feel.”

  Her father patted his wife’s arm before interjecting. “What I think your mother means is that we don’t know him and he’s clearly important to you. I think dinner together would be nice. If and when you get serious with him that is.”

  Of course that wasn’t what her mother said, or even what she thought. But whatever. Cora didn’t want to get bogged down in a beef over Beau when her mom was just striking out to see what landed. And if she got a reaction to it, Walda would use it again.

  “Dinner would be great. Getting to know him would be great,” Cora said with a smile at her dad.

  “Then he can explain just what he’s up to with you,” her mother added.

  “He likes my boobs, my friends and my life. It’s not that hard to believe he’d want to be around me because I’m wonderful, is it?” Cora asked.

  Beto interrupted, “Not at all. Of course he wants to be around you because you’re wonderful. It’ll be good to get to know this guy.”

  Thankful for the backup on multiple fronts, Cora moved the discussion along to something else, pleased they’d all made it through the argument. For the time being anyway.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “SO YEAH, ALL that happened,” Cora told Rachel and Maybe later that afternoon. She’d stopped by Whiskey Sharp after the gallery had closed up for the night so she, Rachel and Maybe had tucked up off in a corner with some tea to catch up.

  “I think Fin finally gets it. Not that she didn’t understand how much you did for your mom before. Because
she does and she did. But I think she sees just how much of a toll it was taking on you. And on your relationship with your mom. And let’s face it, your relationship with your siblings. How can you not resent the way you had to do it all?”

  Rachel was one of those people who listened more than she spoke. She was insightful—though not always when it came to her own baggage—and had excellent advice. It meant she not only understood Cora, but saw right down through all Finley’s layers to the battered heart of her.

  Rachel continued, “I don’t usually get between you and Bee. I love your sister and I know you do too. But whatever it is, whatever she took on as you and your siblings were growing up, it’s burned some important bridges between them. I don’t want to see that be you. I like this Cora. Happy and all schmoopy over someone who deserves it. Excited about her career. This is good for you.”

  “Bee and Javi had to raise us. You know that.” Whatever the present, Cora knew without a doubt that her two oldest siblings were the reason she was sitting there that day. They’d done the work her mom just couldn’t or didn’t want to.

  “You were a teenager when you started working for your mom too. And don’t even get me started on Javier.” Rachel shook her head.

  “I haven’t spoken to him about this whole situation. But he’ll be supportive.”

  “Do you know that for the first few years I knew you, Maybe and I thought Javi was the youngest and Beto was the oldest? Because your big brother is a baby. Don’t defend him. I don’t want to hear it. He did what he did when you needed it and I am grateful obviously as I adore you. But he ran off, like Bee did. Only he stayed gone. He reverted to some kind of perpetual state of acting like he’s twenty-three.”

  Cora loved how fierce Rachel got in her defense. Especially when it was hard for Cora to do it herself.

  “I hope he finds what he needs. Hell, I hope he figures out what he needs, and then goes out and grabs it for himself.” Cora shrugged. “I can’t do this for him. Or for Bee. Or anyone else but me. I love running the gallery. It’s not like I’m doing more than I did before, it’s that I’m doing it with the knowledge that I’ll be doing it next year and beyond. I love that. And I’m selfish enough to know it’s selfish. And to do it anyway.”