by Claire Adams
I slammed my glass down before I drew a deep breath in through my nose. I stood up from my chair and grabbed my purse, and I watched Greyson stand with me as the waitress backed up from the table.
“Come on, Stella. You know as well as I do that your father was an incredible businessman. He was just doing business.”
“Have a good day, Greyson,” I said.
“Stella. Stop. Sit and eat. You look terrible. Have you been getting enough food?” he asked.
“Goodbye, Greyson,” I said.
I made my way to the front of the restaurant while Greyson huffed behind me. I shouldn’t have been shocked when I realized he didn’t follow me out of the restaurant, but it still didn’t ease the hurt when I turned around and didn’t find anyone there. No one supported me in what I knew was right. Not even the man I was dating. All of a sudden, I was struck with a terrifying thought.
I was completely alone.
I got into my car and started it up. I knew Daisy would be working at the retirement home today, so I wouldn’t be able to talk with her until later.
But, I didn’t want to go home. How could I walk into the house and pretend like none of this had happened? I was in no mood to go through my father’s things. I was single-handedly watching everyone back off from my father’s decision to destroy his company, and I wasn’t going to allow that to happen.
I wasn’t going to allow anyone to run what he had accomplished into the ground.
Not even my father himself.
That company was rightfully mine, that much I was sure of. There wasn’t a lawyer in this town, save for the one employed by my father’s company, that wouldn’t see it that way. Any lawyer within 20 miles of San Diego would understand exactly where I was coming from and believe in my case to take this company away from my stepbrother. Christian didn’t understand this company, he didn’t like this company, and he didn’t deserve this company. I was the one who went with my father to all the “take your kid to work” days. Every time my father invited him, Christian turned him down. Every single time my father asked him if he wanted to come sit on his lap and go through files, he would just sigh and roll his eyes.
I was the one going with him to the office. I was the one helping him crunch numbers. I was the one helping him with files and helping him make orders and memorizing his projects.
So now, after my entire life had been surrounded by this company, Christian thought he could just step in out of thin air, learn everything by osmosis, and take this company to greatness? My father had already brought greatness to his company. And now, it was time for his company to give back a bit to my father.
It was time this company was run in honor of my father instead of being run by my father.
And I was going to make sure it did just that. The first step was finding a way to get it back from a bratty, lackadaisical stepbrother who didn’t give a shit about it.
Chapter Seven
Christian
Wednesday
I rehearsed what I was going to say to Stella repeatedly as I drove to her house. I had called and talked to the accountant, and she gave me the go-ahead to speak with Stella about hiring her at Harte to Heart. During my conversation with the accountant, I learned my stepfather operated without a vice president, so that would be the perfect position for Stella. We could negotiate her pay and benefits, and then the two of us could sit side by side in the new offices I wanted to build for us over the main supplies building.
Right now, my stepfather had it as storage, but if we moved things around, stocked the store fully to make it look nice, and used the two closets in the back for overflow, we could outfit that space into offices. I took a quick look at the books and realized the company was working at an incredible profit, so I felt comfortable bringing all this up to Stella.
I pulled into her driveway and took a deep breath before I went to knock on her door. The last time we’d seen each other, it didn’t go well, and the last thing I wanted to do was cause her any more grief than what she was already going through.
But, we really needed to talk. More importantly, however, was that she really needed to listen.
I knocked on her door and heard shuffling behind it, but when she opened the door, she looked almost disappointed that it was me.
“You’re not Daisy,” she said flatly.
“Expecting the best friend?” I asked.
“What are you doing here, Christian?” she asked.
“We really need to talk,” I said.
“We really don’t,” she said.
“Stella, I know you’re hurting. You miss your father, and you feel like you’ve been slighted. And I don’t blame you. But, I’m hurting, too. I lost my mother, the only woman on this planet that ever gave a shit about me.”
“Sorry your life sucks like mine,” she said. “What do you want?”
“Let me come in so we can talk,” I said.
“I’ve talked with enough men for now.”
“What does that mean?”
I watched her face, and for a split second, I saw that vulnerability again. Her statement about Daisy coupled with that comment gave me the notion that Greyson must’ve pulled some bullshit, and part of me wanted to drag it out of her. That rich goody two shoes thought he was God’s gift to the planet. He was one of those idiots that always boasted and flaunted his intelligence in every conversation he had with someone to make himself feel superior.
And, he was a complete asshole to Stella. Everyone except her apparently saw that, and none of us understood why she was still with the guy.
“If you let me in, I promise you’ll enjoy what I have to say,” I said.
“You’re giving me the company?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“Then, I won’t enjoy what you have to say. Have a good day, Christian.”
“I want to hire you at the company,” I said.
She studied me with her eyes for a while from behind her doorframe. I could tell I had caught her attention; I just wasn’t sure how much. She stopped the door just shy of shutting it in my face, but I knew I was two ticks away from having it slammed on me altogether.
“For the love of everything, Stella, grow up and let your stepbrother in,” I said. “I’m the only one who even slightly understands what you’re experiencing. Stop shoving me away because you’re pissed.”
She huffed before she shook her head, but she turned away from the door without shutting it. I slipped in and took in the darkness of her home, allowing my eyes to adjust before I closed the door. I watched the tail end of her robe flutter down the hallway while I followed her toward the kitchen, and she began slamming mugs and ceramic containers around before she slid everything onto the table.
“You can make your own damn coffee,” she said.
“Never been one for people to hand me things,” I said.
“Until now.”
“Stella, I feel terrible about your father handing me this company. It’s thrust me into a position I’m unfamiliar with, and it’s brought a great deal of heartache to your life. I had no idea he was going to do that to you, to us, and I’m sorry,” I said.
I sat down across the table from her and really got a chance to study her. The bags underneath her eyes were heavy, and the redness around her irises told me she’d been crying. Her nose was puffy, and her cheeks were sunken in, and my heart broke as I looked at my stepsister. She was struggling with a lot of pain right now, and part of me wanted to take that away from her.
I wanted her to be alright.
“I need you to understand that if I wanted to do this on my own, I could. I’ve already been talking with the accountant about finances and making sure the company doesn’t have debt. I’ve checked on the projects your father had in motion to make sure they’re still coming along, and I’ve even had some plans drawn up to take the storage above the store and turn it into office space,” I said.
“Oh, goody,” she said as she brought her mug of coff
ee to her lips.
“But, you’re right,” I said.
“What?”
“You’re right.”
“Say that one more time,” she said.
“You. Are. Right. Stella, you are right,” I said. “I don’t have the kind of knowledge you do. I haven’t been groomed all my life for this. Much of this is very new to me, though many companies operate on the same basic premise. But, it takes more than a premise to run a niche supply store like your father has built, and I need your help.”
“The great Christian Gunn doesn’t need anything,” she said.
“I need you,” I said. “I need that knowledge, that intimate intelligence you possess for this company. Yes, I could make this company great, but you can make it spectacular.”
“You heard the letter. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company. Some bullshit about honoring him not being good enough or whatever,” she said.
“He just didn’t want you keeping the company in the past. He probably handed it over to me to give the company a fresh outlook. Your father understood things were changing drastically with the coming generations, and this was probably his way of admitting that.”
“By giving you the company,” she said.
“Have you ever known your father to be overt in anything he did?” I asked.
“Holy fuck, it was so frustrating having to decipher him,” she said. “Remember that damn scavenger hunt for my 12th birthday?”
“I came stumbling down the stairs around lunchtime, and you were fuming on the couch,” I said, chuckling.
“I was so pissed off because I couldn’t figure out why he was making me work so hard on my birthday. I didn’t understand the riddles, and all I wanted to do was find my present and then go play with it.”
“Or all those times he gave that cryptic advice?” I asked. “I remember I asked him for girl advice one time. I wanted to ask out Christie, this girl at our school.”
“Misty Christie? The one that cried every single day for a year?” she asked.
“Yep. That girl had a rack on her, even for high school,” I said.
“Ew. Gross. And you asked Dad for advice?” she asked.
“Yep. You want to know what he told me? After I said I wanted to take her out and get to know her?” I asked.
“What?”
“He said, ‘To do two things at once is to do neither.’”
“He fucking said what?” she asked, giggling.
“Why the hell couldn’t he just tell me that focusing too much on a date meant I couldn't focus enough on her? Why was that so hard for him?” I asked, laughing.
“Holy shit, that man was insufferable with his cryptic wisdom,” she said.
“So, why would we think he’s doing anything less here?” I asked.
That question silenced the laughter peeling from Stella’s lips. I watched her contemplate what I asked while she sipped her coffee, and I took the time to make myself a mug while she mulled it over. The two of us had been put in an impossible position — one that would shake the foundation of even the strongest relationships. But Stella and me? We had a terrible foundational relationship.
It was going to take a lot of work to get this ship out to sea, but I was willing to do it if she was.
“What is my father doing here?” she asked.
“I honestly don’t know, but if you take a job with the company, we could figure it out,” I said.
“And what role do you see me filling, Christian?” she asked.
“How does senior VP sound?”
“You want me to be the Vice President of Harte To Heart? The company has never had a VP,” she said.
“It does now, if you accept,” I said.
“What the hell would I be doing?” she asked.
“Running the company with me. I could run the front end — patient treatment, customer acquisition, finances, and future projections and plans. You could run the back end — product, creative ideas, management of all the warehouses that make our product, possible shipping nationally and internationally if we implement some of my ideas. It could work. We could splice the work your father was doing by himself, focus the company a bit more, and continue to help the community.”
“How so?” she asked.
“More money for the company means more money for the charities your father donated to. If we could garner a patent as well as retain the licensing for one or two of his incredible projects he already had in the works, we could sell them right here out of the store. No one could find them anywhere else but here. That would put us on the books nationally, possibly internationally, and it would bring in more money for the company,” I said.
“And more money means more good works in his honor,” she said.
“Yes. You could honor your father the way you wanted, and I could focus on drawing in new clientele, negotiating new contracts, and modernizing the way the company is seen in the community.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry for what?” I asked.
“For not staying for the reading of your mother’s letter. That woman meant a great deal to me.” Stella opened her mouth to say more but couldn’t.
I reached over and grabbed her hand when I heard her voice crack. This young lady I had grown up alongside my entire life was slowly falling apart in front of my eyes, and I wanted to help her. I wanted to give her something to latch onto, a life vest to keep her afloat, so I wouldn’t lose her like I’d just lost my own mother.
Like I’d just lost the only father I ever knew.
“Let me help you, Stella. Just this once. Take the job,” I said.
“We haven’t even negotiated payment,” she said, sniffling.
“How about $160,000 a year plus benefits. Four weeks paid vacation, two weeks unpaid sick leave,” I said.
“Holy shit,” she said breathlessly.
“Take the job, Stella. Let’s give into whatever the hell it is your father’s trying to manipulate from his grave.”
“Our father,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“Our father. He was just as much your father as he was mine. I never should’ve said that to you in that restaurant, Christian. I’m so sorry.”
“You know how you can show me you’re sorry?” I asked.
“How?” she asked.
“Take the damn job.”
She smiled, releasing my hand before she picked up her coffee mug. Her eyes crinkled, sparkling with just a hint of the little girl I’d grown up with all my life. For the first time since I’d seen her in that hospital, it looked like a breath of life had filled her body.
“See you Friday?” she asked.
“See you then,” I said.
Chapter Eight
Stella
I heard the door knocking and dropped what I was doing to go get it. I was looking through the book I’d found at my father’s house and was transcribing his drawings, ideas, and notes into a cohesive notebook for tomorrow. I still didn’t like the idea of Christian running the company, and I wasn’t sure if he would know how to splice up the front and back end of the business like he had said.
But, I also knew the moment I could get a foothold in the company and imprint upon it, I’d feel more at ease about this entire problem I had encountered with my father’s will.
I opened the door and saw my beautiful best friend standing there, her smile broad and shining in the middle of the day.
“What are you doing here, Daisy?” I asked as I threw my arms around her neck. “Shouldn’t you be working?”
“Took a sick day. Figured my best friend could use a bit of sunshine in her life. I’m impressed you’re actually showered and clothed,” she said.
“It’s been a hell of a past couple of days,” I said.
“Well, you can tell me while we go out. I can tell by the color of your skin that the sun hasn’t seen you in days. Come on,” she said.
“Let me get my purse.”
&
nbsp; “Nope. Today’s on me. Get out this door now,” she said.
We took her car and drove into town, where we parked in front of our favorite nail salon. I could already feel the relaxation coursing through my veins at the idea of a decent leg and arm massage. Wine and Dine was the newest addition to the salon and spa services around the area, and what they offered was hard to refuse. If you purchased enough services, you got a complimentary glass of wine as well as a snack plate.
And my stomach was starting to roar to life.
“So, tell me about these interesting couple of days,” Daisy said as we soaked our feet.
“Christian came by the house yesterday,” I said.
“Please don’t tell me you bit that poor boy’s head off again,” she said. “You reamed him in that restaurant.”
“No. I apologized for a couple of the things I said.”
“Wait a second. Stella Harte apologized to someone?” she asked.
“Don’t be a bitch. He came by to offer me a job in the company,” I said.
“He did what?” she asked.
“Yeah. Senior vice president of the entire thing.”
“Well, that’s good, right? That’s practically owning the thing like you wanted in the first place,” she said.
“Not particularly. He’s going to have me running the back end of things. You know, control of the warehouses, creative ideas, running around with the patents, licensing operations, things like that,” I said.
“So, what’s wrong with that?” she asked.
“It’s only half the company. Christian’s still got control of the most important part.”
“Come on, Stella. He just handed you half the company.”
“And the entire thing is supposed to be mine,” I said.
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit unreasonable?”
“Not in the slightest. He’s still in control of finances, payroll, negotiating contracts, and all that stuff that puts my father’s business on the map. He’s still the face of things,” I said.
“And why does that bother you?” she asked.
“Because Christian admitted to me again that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He told me he wanted to hire me because I was prepped for this job, and he wasn’t. He hired me because he’s desperate, and I’m not running that company for him while he gets all the glory,” I said.