by Jeane Watier
“You’re going to have to expand on that,” he frowned.
“I’ll give you an example,” Sophie replied. “Let’s say you want a new car. You know how much it costs. You know how much you make every month. If you’re relying on your own efforts, you sit down and make a plan to put a certain amount away every month, or maybe you go to the bank and apply for a loan, hoping your credit rating is good enough. You can calculate how long it will take to get the car you want. And it will probably happen eventually,” she paused, “if all goes as planned.”
“But that’s the thing,” Jace interrupted. “We don’t have control over the unknown.”
“Exactly. That’s why that way doesn’t work.” The old woman sipped her tea. “People struggle and struggle and barely get ahead by those kinds of efforts.”
“So what’s the alternative—to borrow other people’s money?” Jace was thoroughly confused.
“The alternative is to change your focus. Change the story you’re so valiantly telling. Expand your expectations. You can learn from the rich, you know.”
Jace noticed a twinkle in Sophie’s eye before she turned away to set her cup on the counter. “What are the rich going to teach me?” he asked, his frustration evident. “How to take advantage of the little guy?”
“They’re not all like that, Jace,” she replied, maintaining her sweet, even tone.
“Maybe not,” he conceded respectfully. “But I don’t see what I could possibly learn from them.”
“Listen to the stories they tell; notice what their focus is on; see how they expect wealth to come to them,” she replied. “If you want to be like them, you’ll have to start thinking like them.”
Jace’s frustration increased. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he declared. “I do want to be rich one day, but I’ll never be like they are—taking advantage of those who don’t have as much.”
“Then just don’t focus on that aspect of them,” she said simply.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Jace regretted giving in, but he was done. I’m not spending my Saturday afternoon arguing with an old lady, he grumbled silently. “I should go. I’m meeting my friends later.”
“It was nice talking with you, Jace.”
“Do you need me to drive you anywhere tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “I’m expecting company. But thank you for asking.”
Jace left her apartment, relieved yet still full of questions. Sophie’s words made sense, yet they stirred him up and left him confused. Is it possible to become rich by thinking like they do? he wondered. Can I learn from them even though they’re arrogant assholes? The questions continued to pull at him for the remainder of the afternoon.
Maybe Sophie knows what she’s talking about, he speculated later as he walked to Chad’s place. If she was rich once, that is. But why isn’t she rich now if she knows the secret? Does she live this way by choice or is there something screwy in what she believes? He preferred to think that it was by choice and not the fault of the belief itself. Like it or not, he was invested in what she was telling him. More than ever, he wanted it to be true.
WITH A CLEAR PLAN in mind, Cassandra left the Town House, Sunday morning. She was dressed more casually than she had been on previous visits with her aunt, and though her father had left the keys to her mother’s Bentley, she took a cab instead.
After instructing the driver to park across the street from her aunt’s building, Cassandra remained in the back seat, donned her dark glasses, and waited. She’d brought along the latest copy of her company’s magazine but didn’t open it, not wanting to take her eyes off the front door in case she missed him.
She was filled with nervous excitement. It wasn’t the first time she’d played the spy. After hearing a rumor that Nick was cheating, she and Tanisha had followed him one night. Driving a borrowed car and wearing ridiculous disguises, they’d giggled like children as they maintained what they’d deemed to be an appropriate distance behind Nick’s vehicle. At first it seemed like a game, but it quickly turned into a painful reality as they discovered the rumor was true. Shaking off the unpleasant memories, Cassandra checked her watch. It had been twenty-five minutes. She didn’t know how much longer she was willing to wait or whether she’d see him, but she had a plan in mind if she did.
After another forty minutes, she’d begun to think her plan was foolish when the front door of the building opened and he emerged. Scrutinizing his appearance this time, she was somewhat annoyed to find him good looking. He had on the same leather jacket, this time with a light blue polo shirt underneath. He wore jeans and running shoes. His hair looked like it might have been blond when he was a child. Now it was light brown with highlights she suspected were natural.
She watched him walk around to the driver’s side of a shiny, black Honda parked in front. Recalling the older vehicle she’d seen him driving previously, Cassandra was surprised. Hmm, she mused. Did he get a new car? Her mind had barely formed the question when the answer became apparent. Oh my God! I wonder if that’s Aunt Sophia’s new car? It seemed like a logical explanation, and it evoked more questions. Why is he driving it without her? Does she let him keep the keys? Does she trust him that much? Although Cassandra had no solid evidence, she was sure he was the same young man her aunt had hired—sure, too, that he was taking advantage of her trusting old aunt by driving her car for his own use.
She had the cab driver follow him without being obvious. After several turns, he pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store. Cassandra waited until he entered the store, then she got out of the cab, instructing the driver to wait. As she walked by the black car, she jotted down the license number. So far, so good, she congratulated herself. Now I need to make it look like a coincidence, running into him here.
Having been awake half the night rehearsing, she’d thought she was prepared. Yet her nervousness heightened as she picked up a grocery basket, tossed a few items into it, and began to look for him. She found him in the frozen dessert section, took a deep breath, and began walking toward him, pretending to shop.
JACE STOOD looking at the selection of frozen berries. Sophie had been specific about the kind she wanted, but he couldn’t seem to find them.
She had stopped by his place that morning, asking if he’d mind picking up a couple of items from the grocery store. He’d jumped at the chance to drive the new car. However, he wondered whether the novelty would wear off, whether running errands for her would become a drag. He hoped not. They hadn’t talked about his pay, but he was quite sure she’d compensate him fairly. If not, he’d tell her he was too busy to continue and chalk it up to experience.
This is the brand she mentioned, he recalled as he examined a package. But this one has strawberries and blueberries, and this one…Jace picked up another package. This one says bumbleberries. He frowned. What the hell are bumbleberries? I wish I had Sophie’s phone number. He made a mental note to ask her for it when he got back.
His thoughts were disrupted when someone opened the freezer next to him. A woman smiled politely and reached for a frozen cake from the shelf. Jace nearly gasped. It was the same woman he’d met at his apartment the previous weekend, the one he’d dreamed about. She had the same flawless complexion, the same golden blond hair. Only this time she wasn’t dressed to the nines; she had on jeans and a sweater. Maybe the rich bitch has a look-alike, Jace thought, truly hoping it was a different woman. He didn’t want a repeat of their last meeting.
She turned back to him, smiling again as she shook her head. “Excuse me. You look familiar; do we know each other?”
“Not really,” Jace replied, “but we kind of met at my apartment building last weekend—twice actually.”
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “You’re the guy I blew up at. I feel awful about that. I was having such a bad day. I was supposed to deliver a package to an address in your building. It was a favor for a friend of mine in the city, only she’d given me the wrong apart
ment number. When I finally got in touch with her later that day, she gave me the correct one. I tried again the next morning, only to discover that the person had moved. I had a difficult time finding the building in the first place and then to have it turn out the way it did…” She paused, looking truly penitent. “Anyway, I am sorry. I was wrong to take it out on you.”
Jace didn’t know what to do, except to offer an apology, too, for what he’d said. She readily accepted it, and he found himself having a civil conversation with the woman he’d hated for the past week.
CASSANDRA HAD him exactly where she wanted him. He’d taken the bait, and all she had to do was reel him in. “Look, I still feel bad.” She offered a smile that she knew could sway a man. “Would you let me buy you a cup of coffee, a latte maybe? Or am I keeping you from something?”
“Um…not really,” Jace replied awkwardly. “I was just…picking up some things.” Glancing down at the package of fruit that was starting to melt in his hand, he added, “For this woman in my building. She’s old, and I…um…help her out sometimes.”
“That’s nice of you.” Smiling sweetly at him, she processed the information. So he is the one that Aunt Sophia hired. Good. That meant her earlier assumption was wrong, however. He wasn’t using the car for his own purpose; he was on an errand for her aunt. Nevertheless, determined to uncover his true character, she proceeded with her plan. “Well, I won’t keep you then…if you’re busy.”
“We could go for coffee…if you like,” he offered, still sounding uneasy. “I just have to drop these off. We could meet somewhere.”
“I noticed a Starbucks about a block from here. Do you know the one I mean?”
“Yeah sure,” he shrugged. “Why don’t I meet you there in, say, twenty minutes?”
“Perfect,” she replied. Realizing she had items in her basket that she might have to justify, including a frozen cake, she laughed. “I can do without this.” She returned the cake to the freezer. “Way too many calories, anyway.”
“I’ll see you in a bit, then.”
Their eyes met, and Cassandra noticed something stir inside. For a moment he seemed like a regular guy, a decent guy, and she felt an attraction.
Oh God, Cass, she scolded, don’t let his looks sway you. Watching him walk away, she reminded herself he was the same jerk that had treated her rudely, not to mention the guy who was very likely planning to swindle her aunt. The only reason he’s being nice to me is because he thinks I’m offering something. The negative emotion quickly returned, and Cassandra strengthened her resolve to get the information needed and have nothing more to do with him.
WHAT THE HELL just happened? Jace laughed as he got into the driver’s seat of Sophie’s car. The rich bitch I met last weekend is now a good-looking chick I met in a grocery store, and suddenly we have a date? Despite her hot looks and penitent attitude, he still had reservations. She belonged to what he considered the snobby upper class, and that was a definite mark against her. He’d also seen a side of her he didn’t like and hoped never to see again. On the other hand, he’d been a bit of a jerk, too.
As he drove the short distance to his apartment building, he assessed what he’d learned about her. She obviously has money to drive a car like that. He pictured the sleek, sporty Aston Martin. She was doing a favor for a friend in the city. Does that mean she lives in the city, too? Why would she be here two weekends in a row? She must live here. But if she lives here and drives a car like that, why would she be shopping in this part of town? He shook his head. Something doesn’t add up.
When he’d delivered the items, Sophie thanked him and addressed the questions that had been mounting.
“Jace, I’ve been thinking about what to pay you for all you’re doing for me. We could agree on a monthly salary, or you could keep track of your time, and I could pay you by the hour.” She paused. “However, I noticed your car isn’t working. I wondered if you’d like to have the use of my car as part of your payment.”
“Wow.” He looked at her in amazement. “That would be great. My car’s not worth fixing, and I don’t have enough to get another one right now. I’d really appreciate being able to use yours once in a while.”
“You can use it any time you like, Jace. We’ll talk about a salary as well. But I can see you’re in a hurry, so I won’t keep you. Go ahead and take the car. I don’t want you to feel you have to ask every time you need it. And keep the keys; they’re of no use to me.”
Jace left Sophie’s apartment feeling charged. Maybe things are starting to turn around after all. I have the use of a really great car, and she says she’s willing to pay me something as well. On his way to the coffee shop, the irony struck him. Had Sophie not offered the use of her car, he would have been walking. He was meeting a gorgeous, rich chick for coffee, and he was so broke he had to rely on the charity of an old woman to get him there.
He wasn’t going to delude himself. The chick just wants to buy me coffee to soothe her conscience. It’ll be the last I see of her, no doubt. He was glad to learn that she wasn’t a real-estate tycoon buying his building. He laughed at how quickly he’d jumped to that conclusion. Maybe Sophie’s right, he decided. Maybe the rich aren’t all as bad as I judged them to be.
SHE FOUND A TABLE near the front of the coffee shop. From that vantage point, Cassandra could see the entrance as well as the parking lot. Nearly twenty-five minutes after their meeting in the grocery store, the shiny new Accord pulled up in front. She still had no proof that it was her aunt’s car, but she was determined to learn the truth.
He entered the cafe, and she watched him walk toward her. Being tall, he appeared slim at first glance, yet he filled out his six-foot frame well. He had a sincere smile and blue eyes that made her want to trust him despite her decision to the contrary. His slightly disheveled hairstyle suited his youthful good looks, and his not-yet-shaven face added a sexy quality. She’d guessed him to be around her age, but looking at him now she wondered whether he might be younger.
After inquiring about his preference of drink, she went to place their order. She returned to her seat with a smile. “I guess we should introduce ourselves. My name’s Tanisha.” Not willing to reveal her true identity, she used her friend’s name instead.
“I’m Jace,” he replied.
“Is that short for Jason?” She wanted accurate information to do a search on him.
“No, it’s a name my mom read in a book once. She liked it because it was different. I don’t mind it, but I’m constantly having to answer that question.”
“It’s unique, I like it,” she replied truthfully. Then, hoping for more, she added, “It sounds distinguished, like it might belong to a news correspondent.” Holding an invisible microphone to her mouth, she mimicked reporters she’d heard on CNN. “This is Jace Reynolds, reporting live from Afghanistan.”
“Close,” he laughed. “It’s Rutherford, but I’m not a news reporter.”
The barista called out their drinks. Cassandra was about to get up when Jace offered. She sat back, pleased with what she’d uncovered. Thank you, Jace Rutherford, she smiled to herself. Now let’s see what you do for a living. When he returned, she took a sip of her latte, beamed a smile his way, and asked, “So what do you do, Jace, with such a distinguished name, if you’re not a news reporter?” She realized she was laying it on a bit thick, but he seemed to be buying it.
“I work at a manufacturing plant—assembly line stuff, not very exciting.”
Port Hayden had three manufacturing plants. She knew the families that owned them. It would be easy enough to check up on him and see what his work record was like. “I guess it depends what you assemble,” she shrugged, trying to act indifferent but hoping for more details. “Some things would be more interesting than others.”
“It’s a job,” he replied. “It’s not what I’d like to be doing, but it’s okay for now.”
“What would you rather be doing?” Although the information was irrelevant to her quest, Ca
ssandra was curious. Jace was different from what she’d expected, and she was beginning to wonder whether she’d misjudged him. What she saw before her was an average guy who worked for a living, someone trying to find his way in life like everyone else. He seemed open and honest, and though that should have been good news for her aunt’s sake, it left Cassandra feeling odd.
JACE WAS ACTUALLY enjoying himself. It was easy to forget his previous encounters with the haughty bitch and simply see her as a good-looking woman he’d met less than an hour ago. However, he couldn’t stop thinking of his dream. It had left him with a longing to meet the kind of woman that could make him feel complete. It was preposterous to think she could be that person, yet here she was listening, talking, laughing—appearing to be truly interested in him. He didn’t know what to make of it.
“I used to want to be an airline pilot,” he responded to her query. “Now I’m not sure. I’d like to stay in Port Hayden, probably keep working where I am. I’m thinking about taking night classes. Maybe get my business degree.” It was a notion he’d been considering. He’d had a taste of the program during the partial semester he’d attended college. At the time, he’d found the assignments easy and the subject matter interesting.
The conversation was becoming one-sided. Jace wanted to learn more about Tanisha, so he asked what she did for a living. As soon as he’d said it, he wished he had worded it differently. If she came from a wealthy family, she wouldn’t have to work for a living. Her answer surprised him.
“I’m an editorial assistant for a fashion magazine,” she replied easily. “I liaison with freelance writers, do proofing and copy editing, and review the magazine’s layout.”
She smiled and Jace could hear enthusiasm in her voice. The woman was becoming more intriguing by the minute, and he felt an attraction.
“I love to write,” she added. “I studied journalism at Berkeley and got hired by one of the most prestigious magazines in the country, but I’m starting to think I could be doing more with my life. I’m just not sure what it is yet.”