by Nina Bocci
“It’s okay to be nervous, too. I’d be worried if you weren’t,” Nancy said.
“That’s the call,” I said unnecessarily as the phone in the hallway rang. Anne answered it, and upon hanging up, she shouted, “They’re here!”
“It’ll take them a couple minutes to get up here,” I said to myself as I shook out my arms, rolled my neck, and prayed that my stomach would stop with the somersaults.
It felt like only ten seconds had gone, but just as I was about to pour myself a glass of water, I heard the elevator ding.
“Here goes everything.” I smiled and walked into the hall to greet them.
• • •
“THEY SEEM TO BE in a good mood, right?” I whispered to Nancy as the Jackson family got themselves acclimated. We’d agreed to give them a few minutes to settle in before we started with the official presentation. Some of their team were helping themselves to coffee and snacks while we waited for the rest to file in. Anne was excitedly waiting by the doorway, keeping an eye out for anyone who looked lost.
“So far, so good,” Nancy answered.
Scanning the room, I recognized only a handful of faces from our last meeting as the Jackson family took their places at the conference table. Mr. Jackson’s two sons, Christopher and Matthew, were sitting front and center. His daughter, Maria, was toward the back with a notebook, ready to roll. All people who should have been present. But the woman at the head of the table was the last person I thought we would see.
“Haley Jackson?” Nancy hissed, and I nodded. Her phone began buzzing.
Something felt off. None of Mr. Jackson’s children had addressed her in any way. In fact, they all had their chairs turned so their backs were to her. “I’ll be right back,” Nancy whispered, and with a glance at her screen, she slipped out the door into the hallway.
In updating my research on the family and the business, I had never considered that Haley would still be in the picture, let alone a deciding member of the business. That added another level of stress that I wasn’t prepared for.
“We’re ready when you are,” the elder son, Christopher, said, smiling from his seat at the front of the conference table. I cleared my throat and wiped my palms, giving him a nervous smile. My eyes flicked to the door. Where was Nancy?
“Thank you all for coming,” I began, happy that my voice wasn’t wavering. “We’re very excited to present this revised proposal to your company. I hope that you enjoyed the breakfast?” A few nods and grunts of approval came from the table.
“It was great!” Christopher said with a smile, relaxing back into his chair and clasping his hands in front of him. He looked at me expectantly—it was clear he wanted me to start.
I glanced toward the door again. Still no Nancy. I guess I would be running this show solo.
“Can we get started?” Haley asked nasally, tapping her long red nails against the table. “I’d like to be back on the plane and headed home to my husband sooner rather than later.”
Taken aback, I looked at Christopher’s daughter, who shot her stepmother a bone-chilling look. Haley couldn’t be much older than me, which meant she was younger than his adult children. That had to make for some interesting holiday dinners.
“Emma, we’re all eager to see what you put together,” Christopher said smoothly, also giving his stepmother a look. “Whenever you’re ready.” With an encouraging smile he settled in, and I began.
• • •
TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, I was finished. I was exhausted but beaming. Somewhere toward the end of the presentation, Nancy had sneaked back in, practically gluing herself to the wall so as not to draw attention to herself. Looking around her, I’d hoped to see my father walking in. He was supposed to be there to show that the CDO had the full support of the mayor and council.
A sense of worry bloomed in my stomach when he never showed. Swallowing back the anxious feelings, I smiled at the group. “We’ll give you the room to discuss any questions you might have and be back in about twenty minutes.”
“Make it ten,” Chris said confidently, before turning to his sister to confer with her.
Please let that be a good sign, I prayed as I walked into the hallway—just in time to run into my father and Cooper, both looking panic-stricken.
“How much time do you have?” my father asked, before leaning down and kissing my cheek.
“What happened? I thought you were coming in?”
“We need to talk,” Cooper interrupted, taking my elbow to guide me toward my empty office, my father following close behind.
I pulled my arm from his grasp and scowled. “Why are you here? And why weren’t you in there?” I added, looking to my father for answers. More than anything, I felt disappointed. I was gutted that whatever they were doing was more important than this.
“Emma, honey, hear him out,” my father said calmly, trying to mediate the situation. “It’s important you hear this from Cooper, before . . . you know what, just go ahead, Cooper.”
Cooper paced, running a hand through his hair. “Have you seen Rogers’s campaign Facebook page today?” he asked nervously.
I stepped toward the center of the room. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
He took out his phone, turning it toward me.
On the “Rogers for Mayor” campaign page was a shadowy photo taken near the site where we wanted the Jacksons to build: a beautiful expanse of land that was currently sitting vacant. It was the same site we’d proposed to them six years ago. In the photo, you could see a much younger Cooper standing with his arms around Haley Jackson. Pulling the phone from Cooper’s hand, I swiped through the photos of Cooper and Mrs. Jackson.
I’d seen them before, of course. The first time around, they’d been splashed all over the Journal. But the new photo that followed was what was unexpected.
There, at the same site, was Cooper standing in his suit from yesterday’s function with none other than Mrs. Haley Jackson.
“Tell me that this isn’t—” I began, but paused when my hands started shaking so badly that I couldn’t see the post clearly.
“You can’t possibly be this stupid,” I snapped, still unable to comprehend what I was seeing.
Cooper interrupted. “Emma, it’s not what you think—”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. Or what happened. Or what line of bull you’re going to send my way. It matters what they think.” I pointed to the wall between us and the Jacksons. “It matters what they think!” I shouted, motioning to the window toward the whole town.
I flipped the image to the main post again. It wasn’t tawdry in any way, the two of them standing a foot or more apart, but what did it matter? The next screen cap was a text statement from Kirby Rogers:
They tried to hide it, but we got the scoop. Mayoral candidate Cooper Endicott can be seen here doing his best to seal the deal with JOE founder and majority stakeholder’s wife, Haley, nearly a decade ago and again last night. It’s like the saying goes, a leopard doesn’t change its spots. Wonder what the family will have to say about this? We here at Kirby’s campaign headquarters have to think that Endicott’s wanton and reckless behavior has put this lucrative project and dozens of jobs at risk, again. Is that the person you really want running this town? Elect Rogers for Mayor of Hope Lake: Respectable, Honorable, and Steadfast.
The color drained from my face. I was feeling it now along with a woozy, light-headed rush that was the result of all my blood moving south in a hurry. I looked down at my shaking hands to see their normally olive tone looking sallow. If I looked in a mirror, I wagered that I would see the same.
“Emmanuelle, it’s not how it looks!” Cooper insisted, reaching a shaky hand out to take his phone back. “I’m not an idiot. I know you think that right now, but I need you to listen to me.”
I gripped the phone tighter, turning to face away from him so I could look at the new photo again.
“Emma,” my father said, touching my shoulder
. I turned as he stepped toward me and took the phone away. He pushed it into Cooper’s hand, and for the first time, I saw that he, too, was furious with him.
“You have to listen to me, Emma. You know I wouldn’t do this to you,” Cooper insisted as my father slipped out of the room to speak to Nancy, who was waiting in the hall.
“It’s the old photo plus a new one, but it’s not what you think. I swear to you, Emma, I wouldn’t do that. Not now . . . not after . . . tell me you believe me. Say something,” he pleaded, and when I looked up, he looked as nauseated as I felt. “Say you believe me.”
“Why? Because this isn’t something you’d do? Risk a project that we’ve spent months—wait, no, years—on just to get your dick wet?”
He reared back as if I’d slapped him. “That’s all I am to you? Your opinon about me hasn’t changed at all. I’m just that same guy without any redeeming qualities.”
“You’re saying this isn’t a new photo of the two of you together?” I shouted, pointing to the phone in his shaking hand. He looked like a cross between crushed and furious. I’m sure my expression was a mirror image.
“It is, but it’s not what it looks like. Not that it matters—it’s clear that nothing I do will make you see me differently.”
I shrugged. “You haven’t exactly proven to me that you’re above all of this,” I said, flailing my arms around. “I thought we were making progress.” I wasn’t sure myself which version of Cooper I was referring to: Cooper the candidate or Cooper the former friend of Emma.
All I knew was that in the pit of my stomach, an ache was growing that I wasn’t sure would stop until it swallowed me whole. At the bottom of it was Cooper and this deal that was likely lost—yet again—thanks to him. I didn’t know which was worse, the loss of the deal or the loss of my faith in Cooper, and I didn’t have time to consider it because Nancy and my father appeared at the door looking distraught. “Emma, they’re asking for you.”
Numbly I rolled my shoulders back and turned to my father, ignoring Cooper entirely.
“This could have been incredible. All that hard work . . . wasted,” I whispered defeatedly, and I walked out the door and into the conference room just in time to see the Jacksons pulling up the photos.
19
* * *
Over a pitcher of beer at Hope Lake Brewing Company, I explained my version of the shittiest day on record to Henry Mercer, the most levelheaded person I knew.
“He called me this morning, panicked,” Henry was saying to me as I downed yet another beer. “You’ve got to know that nothing happened. They cropped the photo. Nick and I were there with him before dinner, when this was taken. Cooper and Haley said hello to each other, and that was it.”
“Why were you there?” I asked with a hiccup. I didn’t like the way Henry looked at me. It was that pitying sort of look people gave SPCA commercials. You wanted to help, but you just didn’t know where to start.
“I think it was twofold,” he began, sliding the beer away from me. “I think he was slaying his Jackson demons by revisiting the site, but more important, he was proud of you for going for it. He was going on about your vision and how it was better than anything he had ever come up with.”
I looked up, surprised. “Really?”
“Emma, he’s been talking about it for days. Since you told him about it, really. He’s so proud of you. You’ve got to know he carries an incredible burden because he screwed it up the first go-around.”
The beer gurgled in my stomach. This wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I needed to, but it still hurt. My reaction had been over the top and cruel. Knowing that Cooper had been there only because of me made it that much worse.
I already knew that the photo had been cropped. My father had explained it after Cooper, and the Jacksons, had left. The photographer had told my father that it had deliberately been done to mirror the original, which he had also taken. “Cooper tried to explain himself, but I was so enraged I couldn’t look at him, let alone hear anything he was saying.”
“That’s understandable. Don’t beat yourself up too much. It’s not like it’s not in the realm of possibility for Cooper to do something so idiotic.”
“Even so.”
He patted my hand. “Even so nothing. You jumped to a logical conclusion. You can’t be tarred and feathered for that.”
That made me feel worse—after all Cooper had done to try to improve himself in my eyes, I had cast my old prejudices against him without a second thought. “I just can’t believe what Kirby did to him.”
Henry nodded. “I told Cooper to call you to warn you, but he didn’t know what your reaction would be and didn’t want to upset you before the meeting, so he decided to approach your dad before talking to you in person. He was understandably nervous about how you’d react.” Henry pulled out his phone to show me a photo of Cooper looking distraught at what appeared to be his house. Then a copy of the original, uncropped photo that my father had gotten from the newspaper. I just couldn’t bring myself to look at it again.
Sure enough, Cooper and Haley were at the forefront near the water, but instead of being alone, they were with Henry, who was standing just behind them, and Nick, who was looking down at his phone and not paying attention to anything. I shook my head.
“Don’t kid yourself,” I said. “He didn’t care what I thought—I’m sure he was only nervous about the campaign. Cooper doesn’t care about anything but himself—that much is as clear as this glass.” I chugged the rest of my beer and held up the glass for Henry to see. “See? Clear. If he did care about what I thought, he wouldn’t have been there. With her. Again.”
Henry tipped his head to the side, leveling me with his sympathetic eyes. “You already know that’s not true. Besides, she just showed up.”
Taking Henry’s unused beer glass to substitute for my empty one, I swallowed another sip of beer to clear the dry, scratchy feeling in my throat. Cooper being proud of me was an odd feeling to process.
“Say something, Ems. I know when you’re chewing on something troubling,” Henry said, taking my hand in his and looking at me with serious eyes.
Henry was one of those guys men wanted to try to arm wrestle and women just straight-up wanted, but he was content with being everyone’s friend. He wasn’t just tall, dark, and devilishly handsome; he also happened to be kind, wickedly smart, and the sort of human who just loved helping people. Like Nick, he had always been like a brother to me. Henry would forever be known as Henry, the Fiercely Loyal. It didn’t matter what your relationship was with him—family, friend, student—if he believed you to be a good human, he’d do everything in his power to defend you.
I sighed. “Right now I just want to be mad. I’ll be fine in the morning, but for now let me be drunk and drown in self-pity. I’m so disappointed. I’m allowed to be disappointed, right? I should have seen something coming. Had a contingency for every possible scenario.”
Henry held up his hand. “Now, hold on a minute. You’re not to blame for this at all. So there’s no reason to be disappointed in yourself. Period.”
“Logically I know that, but I’m still feeling like shit.”
“Fair enough,” he said, pouring me another beer. “Last one, missy. It’s a school night.”
An hour later, I was feeling both marginally better and worse.
“You’re my favorite, Henry. I tolerate Nick, and I love Cooper, but you’re my favoritest. Is that a word?” I mumbled, giving his chestnut hair and deep blue eyes a once-over as I tried to pour myself another glass, sloshing some beer over the glass in the process.
“Okay, that’s enough for you, young lady.” He gently took the pitcher from my hands and smiled—one of those heart-stopping, bright, sexy smirks that made most women in town fall-down stupid. “Emma, I love you, and when you sober up in the morning and remember what you just said, we’ll have a good laugh together.”
“Ugh, I can’t drink anymore,” I admitted, followed by a very unladylike hi
ccup.
Henry signaled the bartender for the check. She, like most of the women in the place, got a bit dreamy-eyed watching him as he smiled innocently at her. For someone so ridiculously intelligent, he had zero common sense when it came to his effect on women. Zero.
“You should have been the one to run for office,” I said seriously, watching as she drooled over him. “It would have been so easy. Everyone in town loves you. You’re a good listener. There aren’t any manwhorey skeletons in your closet. You’re just . . . good.”
“Though I thank you for that,” Henry laughed, “I have enough going on. Besides, public office requires public speaking. Unless I can quote Shakespeare and deal only with teenagers, I don’t think I would win. Cooper, on the other hand—”
“Has had every chance handed to him and still managed to shoot himself in the ass.”
Cooper had called me repeatedly throughout the day, but I’d kept sending him to voice mail. After speaking with my father, I wasn’t mad at him, but that didn’t mean I wanted to talk. The last time I’d checked my phone, he had already left a dozen messages.
“Can I be honest?” Henry asked. I nodded. “I don’t think it’s going to be that bad. Cooper uploaded the undoctored photo to his campaign site, the news ran it, and it’s been shared across Facebook, Twitter, Insta, and Snapchat. Every social media platform we have. Kirby was tagged every time someone accused him of being the culprit. We even got the Journal to agree to run the real photo to make sure we catch all the people who didn’t see it on social media. Sure, some people will still be mad, but for the most part—”
“Ever the optimist, Henry Mercer.”
“Honestly.” Henry nodded. “Tell me again how the Jacksons ended your meeting today?”
“ ‘Obviously this puts a negative spin on things, Emma,’ ” I said, mimicking Christopher’s stern voice.
“Is there any hope to salvage it?” Henry asked, sliding the half-full pitcher farther away from me when I reached for it.