Laughing, she nods her head before taking a sip from her coffee cup. I can tell from the background she’s at the office. Since she’s the only office staff at the construction company, she has the ability to work on her wedding at any time.
“Hey, Dakota,” Owen says as his face pops in the frame before kissing Minnie’s cheek.
“Hi and bye, Owen. Oh, Owen!” I shout and he leans back in the frame. “The girls asked if you were coming over for movie night this week.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Tell them Uncle Owie is bringing all the snacks.”
Before I can say anything, Minnie pushes him away and looks my direction again. “Healthy snacks, don’t worry. I’ll make sure they’re moderately healthy. So, winter? Yes or no?”
Rolling my eyes, I spend the next fifteen minutes chatting with my sister about potential wedding dates. She’s never been happier, and I can’t help but be a little envious. An emotion I hate. I was lucky to find love with a man I loved unconditionally, and he felt the same for me. A wonderful father and my best friend. Love like that is once in a lifetime. Scarlett disagrees. She says love comes when you need it, but you have to be open to it. As much as I love that idea, it feels selfish to take love a second time.
Instead, I’ll focus on being the best mom, sister, and me I possibly can and enjoy the gifts of laughter and love with my family. And a great ass thanks to those stupid squats.
“Good morning, Dakota.”
“Good morning, Doug. Sell any houses this morning?” I tease my co-worker and boss. He’s currently leaning back in his chair, feet crossed at the ankles and resting on his desk with his phone in his hand.
“Nope but I’ve passed all four levels before I finished my first cup of coffee.”
Laughing, I slip my purse in the bottom drawer of my desk before pushing the power button on my computer. My phone’s message light is flashing and I take that as a good sign for the week. Mondays are usually slow, but Mondays in winter are the worst. Nobody wants to buy or sell after the holidays, so it’s more about mailers and following up with potential clients from prior showings.
Lifting the receiver to my ear, I push the button for messages, ready to jot down the information. Three of the five calls are hang-ups, one is my mom reminding me to pack the girls’ warm clothes for their weekend at her house. I guess she’s taking them to some indoor activity center that has fake snow for indoor sledding. The last call is from a client I’ve had for a few months. Thad Miller is a young entrepreneur looking to invest in some property in the area. I’ve shown him no less than three properties a month since Thanksgiving and while I appreciate the possible sale, I think we’re just spinning our wheels at this point.
Before I can dial his number to return the call, my cell phone rings.
“This is Dakota.”
“Hey, it’s Thad. How are you this morning?”
I try to stifle the unprofessional sigh bubbling inside me and plaster a smile on my face. My first employer told me the best way to talk to someone who is trying your nerves is to speak with a smile. They’ll hear your words through a smile and not gritted teeth.
“Oh, it’s a fine morning. Thank you. I was just going to return your call.” Eventually.
“I wasn’t sure if you received my message, so I thought I’d try your cell. I was looking at that website you told me about and saw there’s a price drop in that Tennison Road property. Maybe we should look at it again.”
“Thad, we’ve been out there three times, and each time you think you’re ready to make an offer you change your mind. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m not the agent for you. Perhaps I should transfer your file over to Doug. He’s been at this a long time and may be able to help you in ways I—”
“No! Absolutely not. I won’t allow it.”
Startled at his abrasive response, I suck in a breath that must have been louder than I thought because Doug drops his feet from the desk and sits up straight in his chair. Shaking my head at him, I take a stuttering breath before exhaling.
“Thad, please do not shout at me. It’s just that—”
“Dakota, I don’t want another agent. I know I seem indecisive and perhaps I am, it’s just that I feel like you understand me and together we’ll figure this out.”
“I don’t appreciate you shouting at me, Thad. If you’re this upset, I’m not sure we should work together any longer.”
“I’m sorry I shouted. That was rude and unacceptable.”
“Thank you. I accept your apology. Why don’t we give it six weeks? If we still haven’t found the right property, I’ll refer you to someone more experienced.”
The line is quiet, and I have to look at the screen to ensure we’re still connected. I hear a door close and engine start up and realize he must have been connecting to his Bluetooth.
“Six weeks? With this week being Valentine’s Day that means end of March. Okay. I can work with that. Shall I come to your office today for a trip out to Tennison Road?”
I look down at my outfit for the day. Normally when I’m doing a showing of land and not a home, I make sure to wear a pair of boots, so I don’t tear up my feet. Today, I opted for a pair of plaid flats. No way I’m ruining these shoes to look at a property we both know he won’t purchase.
“I’m all booked today. How about Friday morning at ten?”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you at the office.”
No way.
“Oh, I have an appointment prior to that so I’ll meet you there. Oh goodness, a client just walked in, I’ve got to go. Have a great day and see you Friday,” I say, quickly ending the call before he can respond.
Looking across the room to Doug, I notice the concern on his face. “Everything okay?” he asks.
“Just Thad Miller insisting I show him the Tennison Road property again.”
“I think Mr. Miller is more interested in the idea of buying than the actual purchase. How many times have you taken him out there?”
“Too many. It’s okay. Maybe with the price drop this time he’ll pull the trigger. In the meantime, I’m going to grab a cup of coffee and make a few calls.”
Walking into the small breakroom, I make myself a cup of coffee and wrack my memory for any potential listings I may have missed for Thad. We’ve mostly stuck to vacant land. Something that doesn’t require maintenance. Maybe I should broaden our search and find something with a dwelling or at least a barn. Give him something to visualize other than flat land.
It’s worth a shot.
Chapter 8
Grant
“I’m an old man, I don’t want to spend my last minutes waiting for you to spell a word.”
Huffing, I thumb the square tile between my fingers. Last minutes my ass. Eugene Wilkins is probably healthier than some of the staff in this place. Getting to know him the last few weeks has been an uphill battle, but one I’ve finally won. Of course, I let him think he’s the one to come out victorious. Stubborn but prideful, I knew the first day he told me he wouldn’t speak to me that we were going to be fast friends. There’s something to be said for the ability to just be without words being spoken.
It helps that we have the common love of Scrabble to solidify our bond. That and bitching about young recruits, the joy of eating a hot dog and drinking a beer at a Major League Baseball game, and the lifelong question—is Bigfoot real?
Continuing to ignore his jabs and efforts to distract me, I look at the board, wondering what I’m going to do with my shitty options.
Oh. There you go.
“Don’t tell me I’ve been wasting the last of my life for you to only spell the word crap.”
“Look old timer, sometimes greatness comes to those who wait. In this instance, the greatness is a tiny four-letter word.”
Waggling his brows, he smirks. “Like Violet down the hall. Now that lady is a tiny thing but damn if she isn’t mighty.”
“I think I liked it when you were grumpy and only grunted. And don’t talk about Miss Viol
et like that, it’s not gentlemanly.” He begins to laugh but it quickly turns to a cough. He’s still getting over a cold he had a few weeks ago. I’ve asked both Teri and Leslie if it’s more than a cough and while they can’t give me specifics, both have patted my hand and assured me he’s fine. Ornery but fit as a fiddle.
“Got any new pictures of that boy of yours?”
“Godson. Yep, here’s one of him eating. Guess he won’t be asking to pass the sweet potatoes at Thanksgiving,” I comment as I show him a picture of Nick with a disgusted look on his face as Scarlett tries to feed him.
“Can’t say I blame him. When are you going to move to Lexington? Be with your family?”
It’s the same question he asks me every day. And I have the same answer. “Still thinking it over.”
“I win,” he declares as he sets the last three letters from his rack on the board.
“You’ve been saving those for this moment, haven’t you?”
“What? It’s another name for cat. I can’t help that I had a ‘P’ and an ‘U’ to play. Now that I’ve won, I want to talk to you about something.”
This sounds serious. Which is surprising. Gene and I may have bonded, and I’d consider us friends, but we don’t really hit the nitty gritty when it comes to feelings. I wonder sometimes if that’s because the one person he was closest to for over fifty years is no longer around. His wife passed away two years ago and one night he admitted he’s lonely without her. Sure, he flirts with the ladies in the unit but at the end of the day, he’s a man who has lost his best friend, his partner, and everything he loved in life.
Once I have the game boxed up, I turn back to him, waiting for him to hit me with his wisdom. Or lecture. By the look on his face, I feel like the latter may be more accurate.
“When I was a young man, I vowed to remain a bachelor. I watched friends marry off and start families, and they were miserable. Stressed, drinking too much, and complaining like it was their damn job. I didn’t need that stress. Besides, I wasn’t lacking for female attention, and if I wanted, I always had a date for dinner. Sometimes for dinner and breakfast if you get what I’m saying.”
“I get it, please don’t elaborate.”
“Anyway, one night I was on a date with a young lady. She was beautiful and had a great laugh. We spent the entire evening dancing and I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe my friends were just a bunch of whiny assholes. For brief moments, I saw possibilities of what could be, and it scared the hell out of me.”
“Is that how you met Gloria?” I inquire of his wife.
Gene has regaled me with many stories of his almost fifty-year marriage in the weeks we’ve spent together and each time it reminds me of what I don’t have. When he speaks of his wife, Gloria, his eyes brighten and the way he loved her is evident. He’s the happiest in those moments and will talk until he’s hoarse if you let him.
“Don’t interrupt me, son.”
Sheepishly, I sit back in my seat and motion for him to continue.
“After our evening of dancing and stealing a kiss goodnight, we parted ways. I didn’t ask her for her last name or for a way to contact her. I chickened out. What the hell did I know about a relationship? Until that night I had planned to remain a bachelor for life. A single moment. A single woman had me looking at life differently.”
I can see where he’s going with this. Always asking why I spend my evenings with him when I should be out dating, meeting the future Mrs. Ellison. There were opportunities to deflect or lie and make up an excuse, but I haven’t. Instead, I’ve been honest and told him I believe that ship has sailed. A man my age, one who has been single his entire adult life, isn’t built to have a partner and that’s what I’d want. I see how that is contradictory but it’s just how I feel.
“I’ve listened to you talk about your friends, your family, for weeks. How you are missing out on your godson’s moments and only capturing them on that damn phone of yours. Remember that last word I played? The one that whooped your ass? Stop being that. Stop making excuses and live your life. You’ve lived through horrible things, Grant. You’ve seen and probably done a lot you’d like to forget. There’s nothing wrong with finding happiness. Be with your family. Find a lady to have dinner and breakfast with.”
This is not where I thought this conversation was going, and honestly, it hits a little too close to everything I’ve been thinking of when I’m alone. My early mornings since returning from Lexington have been overrun with these same thoughts.
“How about I agree to think about it?”
“That’s a good first step,” he agrees.
Rising from my chair, I reach for his glass and refill it with water and set it back on the table before I turn toward the door.
“Oh, and for what it’s worth? I met my Gloria in the middle of a park where she was dancing to a song only she could hear. Flowers in her hair and a huge smile on her face, she was a vision and my complete opposite. I stood there in my uniform while she approached me barefoot and whispered, “took you long enough.” Like she knew we’d meet one day. Fate she called it.”
I don’t comment on the way his voice hitches or the tears filling his eyes. “See you tomorrow, Gene. Goodnight.”
Walking out of his room and down the hallway, I wave to the receptionist as I head for the double doors. As I approach my SUV, I tug the wallet from my pocket. Settling behind the wheel, I pull the little white card from where it’s been tucked since last fall and punch the number in my phone.
“Hello?”
“Dakota? It’s Grant Ellison. I’m not sure if you remem—”
“Of course I remember you. How are you, Grant?”
“I’m good. Sorry to call on your cell phone. Hell, I didn’t realize the time. I’m sure you’re busy. I should—”
Cutting me off again, she giggles before setting me at ease. “It’s fine. I’m not busy. Well, I am making a gourmet dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup, but other than that it’s fine.”
Relief rushes over me. I’m not quite sure why I feel so nervous but something about this call will make an option a reality.
“So, I think I may be looking for a realtor. I’m sure I’m too late to be your first but maybe—”
Her laughter is loud. Gone are the sweet giggles, and in their place, a loud bellowing laugh. I smile as she gasps for her breath and then swears under her breath about boiling soup. I’m sure she didn’t expect me to throw our banter from our first meeting back into the fold. Our flirtatious banter. We were both trying, and failing, to flirt the first time we met and an innuendo about being each other’s first sale and real estate transaction fell a little flat. You’d never know that from the way she’s laughing.
Chapter 9
Dakota
My mom has always said I laugh at the most inappropriate times. During the eulogy at my grandfather’s funeral, I started laughing and couldn’t stop. I was six. The first time I tried to lose my virginity. That didn’t exactly go as planned. One shouldn’t laugh when a teenage boy is trying to find . . . his way so to speak. A silent and internal bout of giggles quickly morphed into hysterics. It was so bad, I had to rush to the bathroom so not to pee on us both. I still feel bad about that, but I could never apologize because by the time I opened the bathroom door, he was running out of the house and never spoke to me again.
During Jeff’s wedding vows, I drew blood biting my lip to keep the laughter at bay. Thankfully, my new husband knew about my nervous tick and with his thumb, tugged my bottom lip free, joining my laughs and showing everyone why he was the perfect man for me.
It’s been quite a while since I’ve had an opportunity for an inappropriate reaction to reappear. All it took was one mention of my horrible attempt at flirting. Like riding a bike, the giggles start. I’d like to blame it on the fact that I haven’t had to flirt or put myself out there in more than a decade but that would only be part of the truth. The reality is, I’m the furthest from cool and apparently, the attenti
on of a handsome man just intensifies that uncool factor. Handsome? Sexy? Silver fox. That’s more accurate.
There’s also the guilt I felt for freaking out on him when he acknowledged the mutual flirting. I knew then I wasn’t ready to take a step into the dating world. The weeks that followed were spent discussing my fears and establishing goals with my therapist. She encouraged me to put myself out into the world for friendship. Not every connection has to be romantic and not every attempt at romance will stick. It’s okay to challenge myself but pull back when it’s too much.
Taking a deep breath, I turn the dial of the stove and lift the saucepan from the burner and set it to a cooler one before closing my eyes and counting slowly to five. When I think it’s safe to speak, I tentatively say, “I am”—breathe—“sorry. Wow that was very unprofessional. I’m mortified.”
“Don’t be. You have a great laugh. I should be the one apologizing. It was a cheesy effort the first time, I have no business bringing it up again. I should have let it die the death it deserved.”
Smiling, I feel a sense of relief that he feels just as awkward as me. Making my way across the kitchen, I locate my earbuds in my purse and slip them in my ear and say, “One sec, Grant,” before connecting my Bluetooth.
“Okay, I’m back. Sorry, I was putting in my earbuds so I can multi-task. Now tell me why you’re calling.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about my time in Lexington and thought maybe I could arrange a day for you to show me some properties.” My pulse races as he mentions a potential move here. The feeling scares me and conjures up a series of emotions I’m not quite prepared to acknowledge. “See what is available for an investment.”
And there went the racing pulse and, in its place, disappointment. Again, emotions I’m not interested in addressing. While he chatters away about investments and tax benefits, I go about building and grilling sandwiches before setting bowls and plates at the table.
Cherish Her Page 5