I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up. Cassidy shifts her eyes to Delilah, and they both burst out laughing.
“So, I’m everything?” Cassidy blushes, comes around the side of the desk and stands between my legs. “Everything?”
“You told her.” I grab her ribs and squeeze. Cassidy squeals and jumps back. I point at Delilah, who’s grinning like a fool. “You’re a pain.”
“We’re girls. I knew before you did.” Delilah smiles. “I texted her this morning, and she told me that you two are a couple now. I’m happy for you guys. I wouldn’t have been if you had jumped in bed with her without thinking, but I know you didn’t.” She points at me. “Just don’t mess it up.”
I pull Cassidy into an embrace, feeling a million times better knowing Delilah isn’t mad. “I have no intention of messing up anything, and somehow I know that if I do mess up, you guys will whip me into shape before I know what’s going on.”
~Cassidy~
THREE HOURS INTO the reconciliations I realize that the invoices I’m looking for simply don’t exist. I’ve checked every drawer, every computer file, and Tim isn’t returning our calls. I am starting to believe Tim’s doing something underhanded with the books, and I’m so sick of accounting I can hardly see straight. I swear it’s a visceral reaction. I see the books and I want to turn away, but I don’t. I know how important this is. But I can’t help feeling like things between me and Wyatt opened new doors in my head.
It’s like seeing Wyatt’s walls come down allowed me to reassess my own walls. Walls I never knew existed. For the first time ever, instead of following the path my parents set out for me, I’m taking my concerns about New York and even my career choice seriously and thinking about them.
I stare at the ledgers. Numbers make sense to me. They always have. But they definitely don’t excite me in any way. I keep thinking about going to New York, where I don’t know anyone but one crazy aunt, and sitting at a job that is probably going to be boring. My parents’ lectures about establishing a strong career and making a name for myself play over and over in my mind. Their voices go from strong to faint as my mind tries to wrap itself around and grab hold of their excitement, when really, all I want to do is go out to the beach at sunset and catch the beauty of the setting sun on film. I want to take more pictures of brides and grooms promising each other forever and catch the contemplative look in Wyatt’s eyes on film when he’s lost in thought. Even the thought of helping Brooke later today is more interesting than crunching numbers.
“What do you make of it?” Wyatt’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. He’s sitting next to me in Tim’s office with one hand on my thigh and the other fisted on the desk.
“I don’t want to assume, but…” I don’t want to say the rest. I can tell by the way he’s clenching his jaw that he knows what I’m thinking.
“But Uncle Tim’s pulling some shit.” He slams his palms on the desk. “Uncle Tim. Uncle fucking Tim.”
I shrug. “I don’t want to accuse him, but something’s off. About twenty-thousand-dollars off.”
Wyatt pulls out his phone and clenches it in his hand, then runs his other hand slowly over his mouth and down his jaw, as if he’s biding his time.
“I’m calling Jesse.” I listen as he explains the situation to Jesse. “We’ve got more than twenty thousand dollars’ worth of invoices for Reiker Industries, paid out in a few thousand each month. Tim’s got them listed as inventory, but we’ve scoured the back room and can’t find anything from Reiker—no packing slips, no inventory, no boxes. We checked his computer files. No email contacts from Reiker, nothing.” He pauses and nods, holds up a finger as if to tell me to hold on a second. Then he covers the mouthpiece. “Cass, can you go ask Dutch if he knows of Reiker?”
“Sure.” I go to the kitchen and ask Dutch, who crosses his arms and stares at me. His hair sticks up in curly tufts, and he’s got about three days’ scruff that creeps down his neck, making his scowl look even more intense.
“Reiker? Yeah, I know all about Reiker.”
“Oh, good. What is it? What do they provide for the Taproom?”
“They? Near as I can tell, Reiker’s a fake company. I told Ed Armstrong about it a few times over the last few months before he…well, before he died. Far as I knew, he was looking into it.”
“You told Wyatt’s dad?” My stomach sinks.
“Yeah, and he said he was going to talk to Tim.”
Livi comes through the double doors and slaps an order on the wheel. “Double burger with fries, no onions. Thanks, Dutch.” She smiles at me. “Hi, Cassidy.”
“Hi, Livi.” I wave and go back into the office, where I find Wyatt with his elbows on the desk, his hands fisted in front of him.
“What’d he say?” Wyatt asks.
“He thinks it’s a fake company. He said he told your dad about it. What did Jesse say?”
“Same. He said Dutch told my dad and that he and my mom were too busy to go through the books, but he noticed that after Tim’s divorce, Tim started disappearing for a few days at a time.”
“Like now,” I point out.
“Yeah.” Wyatt shakes his head. “This isn’t good. I want to be wrong about this in the worst way, but this trail”—he waves at the files—“and what Dutch and Jesse said don’t leave much room for misinterpretation. How does a guy break the news of his best friend’s death to his children and then go to his friend’s funeral knowing he’s screwed them all over? I need to find him and figure out what’s going on.”
“I’m sorry, Wy. Hopefully, it’s all a misunderstanding.”
“If it’s not, I’m left firing the guy who’s been like an uncle to me and Dee forever. The guy who helped my dad get this business up and running.” His eyes cloud over, and I can’t tell if it’s anger or sadness hovering in them, or both. “He sat with me and explained what business courses and risk assessment were before I started college. Risk assessment. If he did this shit, he knew all the risks, least of which is being fired.” He shakes his head. “I do not want to do this.” He pushes away from the desk. “I didn’t ask for any of this mess.”
I don’t say another word. I’m not sure how to make it easier for Wyatt, but as he contemplates the situation, his eyes fill with determination.
He nods, more to himself than to me, I think.
“Okay, so here’s the plan. I’m going to drive over to Tim’s and see if I can track him down. Delilah will hold down the fort. I know you have to get to Brooke’s soon.” He reaches for my hand. “If he’s skimmed money off the business, I’ll have no choice but to let him go, but if he can produce the inventory and the receipts, then it’s a nonissue and we need better accounting practices.”
I know he thinks the latter is a long shot. He was right the other day. He has grown up. He may have been forced into this situation, but he’s facing it head-on, and I’m so very proud of him.
My cell phone rings, and I grab it off the desk. “It’s a New York number.”
He smiles, but I can tell it’s forced. I answer the call, trying to ignore the nervous twist in my stomach.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Is this Cassidy Lowell?” The woman’s voice is unfamiliar.
“Yes. This is she.”
“Cassidy, this is Carol Barker from SNC Financial. We’d like to offer you the position of junior accountant that you interviewed for back in April.”
“Thank you.” It’s a bittersweet moment. This is the job I wanted in the city I was dying to live in, but that was before getting together with Wyatt and before I let myself start to think about what I really want. I know it will please my parents. If I take it, I’ll probably see more of them. I also know I can do the job well, but as I listen to the details of the position and Carol agrees to give me a week to think about it, I’m so conflicted I feel dizzy.
I end the call and lower myself into a chair, wondering what the hell I’m going to do.
Chapter Twenty-Two
~Wyatt~
I FIND DELILAH by the bar and ask her to come with me outside. She eyes me warily, but I just nod toward the door. Once we’re outside, I guide her away from the building. I’m still trying to figure out how to tell her about Uncle Tim. I can tell she’s heard something, because she looks like she’s trying to figure out how to tell me something, too.
“What is going on?” she asks. “Dutch said he thinks Tim is embezzling money?”
“We don’t know for sure, but it looks that way.” We walk out to the edge of the pier, where we can talk in private.
“I don’t understand. Why would he do that? Dad would have lent him money if he needed it. Why would he steal from us?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, but I’m going to try to track him down and find out.”
Delilah crosses her arms. “I thought this was going to be like running a normal business, and now we’re tracking down a thief?”
“Dee, this is part of running a business. Dutch said he told Dad about this and that Dad was supposed to talk to Tim.”
“Uncle Tim. God!” She turns away.
“Yeah, well, if this is true, he doesn’t deserve the Uncle part.”
She covers her face and then turns back to me with anger in her eyes. “I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I’m still reeling from the idea that Uncle Tim could have done this shit. Uncle Tim, the guy who took care of my parents’ funeral, the guy we’ve known forever. My father’s best friend. What the hell? I have no idea what will go down with Tim when I confront him, and I want to protect her from anything bad.
“I don’t care if it’s a good idea or a bad idea. I’m going.”
“Who’s going to run the Taproom? Cass has to go to Brooke’s. Please stay here, Dee. I’ll handle it and—”
“Fine, but if he stole from us, what do we do then?” Delilah crosses and uncrosses her arms as she paces.
“We fire him, but not before I find out why.” I watch her pacing and pull her into a hug. “This all sucks, I know. If you change your mind and you don’t want the bar, tell me. We’ll sell it or something.” As I say the words, I’m not sure what I will do if she changes her mind. I’m beginning to realize just what it takes to run a business, and with all this stuff coming up, I want to protect what our parents worked so hard to build. Delilah was right when she said Dad wanted us to take it over, and so what if it’s sooner than he had thought? Than we’d all thought?
“I don’t know what I want. I think I want to go back to bed and wake up on graduation morning and tell Mom and Dad not to drive home.”
Her words hang between us like ghosts.
“I know, Dee. Do you want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head fast and hard.
I know I need to change the subject quickly, before she gets sucked into grief again. “Okay, well, how did you know I was stuck the other night?”
“Ash told me. We’ve been coming out to the beach in the evenings and sketching. She couldn’t meet me that night.”
Relief washes through me. “I’m glad you’re sketching again.”
“Yeah, me too. I don’t do it much. Sometimes I just sit while Ashley draws, but I’m trying to be normal, whatever that is after your parents die.”
I hug her again and watch her walk back inside, hoping her version of normal doesn’t mean trying to hide her sexual identity, as she’s done for so long. I head down the pier toward my car.
“Wyatt!”
I turn at the sound of Cassidy’s voice. She’s running toward me with a worried look in her eyes and a slight smile on her lips. In that instant I know two things for sure. She got the job offer, and the conflicting facial expressions probably only touch the surface of how conflicted she is inside. I ready myself to be the supportive boyfriend I’m supposed to be and not the selfish prick who wants to beg her to stay with me in Harborside, even though that’s what I want to do.
“I got the job.” She fiddles with the ends of her hair and drops her eyes.
She worked hard for this, and I’m proud of her. I want her to be happy, even if that means that we have a long-distance relationship until we figure things out. I have no idea what things might include, but with the new information about Uncle Tim, I have to prioritize. Right now, figuring out what the hell is going on with the business has to come first.
“Congrats, babe. I knew you would. They’d be crazy not to hire you.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. They’re giving me a week to decide.” Cassidy reaches for my hand and holds on tight.
I kiss her and try to reassure her. “You worked hard for this, and you wanted to be in the city.” Afterward I wonder if she can see how hard it is for me to say these things without asking her to stay.
“My parents wanted me to be in the city.”
“Maybe, but so did you. Don’t let our relationship cloud your judgment. You have a week, babe. Just let it sit in your head for a while and see how you feel in a day or two.” If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to cave and beg her to stay. It’s too hard to look in her eyes and know she wants to be here just as much as I do, then force myself to tell her not to follow her heart but to think it over.
“I’ve got to handle this stuff with Uncle…with Tim, but we can talk it through tonight. How late do you work tonight?”
“Brooke needs me until ten.” She puts her arms around my neck. “I’m sorry, Wyatt.”
“Sorry? Why?” Have you already made a decision?
“The job offer came at a rotten time, and this stuff with Tim.” She searches my eyes, and I try to mask my agreement.
“Don’t be silly. I’m glad you got the offer, and I can handle this stuff with Tim. I’ll call Jesse on my way to Tim’s.” By some miracle, I feel like I really can handle this situation with Tim, even if I have to fire him. But Cassidy leaving Harborside? I’m not nearly as certain.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Wy. I’ll clean up this stuff before I go to Brooke’s.”
“Thanks, Cass. I’ll text you when I know something.” I kiss her again, burying my worries about her leaving as deep as I possibly can. “Don’t worry about us. I’m not going anywhere, and New York isn’t California. We’d only be a few hours apart. We’ll figure it out if you decide to take the job. Just don’t turn it down for us.”
She nods. “I won’t. I can’t. This has to be my decision, otherwise I might resent you in the future, and I don’t want that to happen.”
“That’s my girl. Always planning ahead.”
“In this case, I kind of wish I hadn’t.”
No shit. So do I. I muster another supportive smile. “Don’t be silly. This is a great opportunity. Focus on that.” While I try not to focus on the hole you’ll leave behind.
Chapter Twenty-Three
~Cassidy~
THE CAFÉ HAS been busy since I arrived, and I don’t have much time to think about the job offer. I haven’t heard from Wyatt in hours, and I wonder if he’s tracked down Tim, and if so, what’s going on. The bell above the door rings as a woman and two teenage girls walk in.
I smile from across the room and wave at the tables. “Hi. Find a seat, and I’ll be with you in a sec.”
The walls of the café are painted powder blue, and each table has fresh flowers in the center. Brooke has a deal with a local florist, who brings her fresh flowers every other morning for the vases. She is all about aesthetics. She says it’s too easy to forget that things should be pretty as well as functional. The counter is set up like an old-fashioned diner, with round red vinyl stools that swivel and old-fashioned chunky napkin holders. There’s a jukebox in the corner that doesn’t take quarters and plays all day long. The valance above the picture window in the front is checked with red and white. Considering that it’s an Internet café, the mix of the old and the new makes it feel like I’ve stumbled back in time to 1980 with a link to the future.
They sit
at a table near the window, and I finish making sandwiches for my other customers, then I take an order from another table and refill sodas for a third group sitting at the counter working on their laptops. My phone vibrates with a call from my parents for the millionth time today. I wish I hadn’t sent them the text about getting the job offer, but I had to, or maybe I didn’t. Maybe some part of me is clinging to the hope of seeing them more.
God, I hate this. Why couldn’t I have had normal parents who wanted to spend time with their daughter?
They’ve left at least four messages since. I’m relieved when the call finally goes to voicemail after the longest four rings of my life.
Brooke comes out of the back carrying a tray of soda bottles and refills the cooler in the front of the café. We’ve fallen into a pattern that works well. While I’m handling customers, she restocks, and when I need a break, we switch. I love working with the customers so much more than crunching numbers.
My phone vibrates with another call from my relentless parents as Brooke joins me behind the counter. Why weren’t they this interested after Wyatt’s parents’ died? Or when I was walking at graduation? Or when I was playing fucking lacrosse as a kid?
“At some point you have to answer their calls.” Brooke arches a brow. “Go take it. I’ll be fine for a few minutes.”
“Ugh. Can’t you tell me I’m not allowed personal calls on business time or something?”
“I’m not that much of a bitchy boss. Besides, you’re helping me out, and your parents have called more times in the past hour than mine call me in a month. If you don’t answer it now, they’ll keep calling. Just get it over with. You’ll feel better.”
I doubt that.
I let the call go to voicemail, set the pitcher on the counter with a sigh, and take the order of the woman and two teenage girls and serve their drinks before I walk outside and return the call. There’s a group of teenagers sitting against the front wall using their laptops. They look up for half a second, then drop their eyes again as I cross to the far side of the boardwalk. I take a lungful of the night air and call my parents back.
Catching Cassidy Page 21