Uncovering Camila (Wildflowers Book 3)

by Vivian Winslow

  “You don’t have to be so smug about it.”

  “I’m not smug. I’m thrilled. I have a feeling it’s going to work out.”

  Camila pulls her phone out of her bag and stares down at it. She taps her cousin who moves the towel off her face.

  “What’s up?”

  “It’s Marshall. He says it’s important.”

  “Does he say what it’s about?”

  Camila shakes her head. “Just that he wants to see me.”

  “Why are you even debating it? The man deserves your time. If he’s willing to make the effort, and you lo . . . I mean, care about him, then you do the same.”

  Camila sighs and reads the text again. She drums her thumb against the screen, all the words, feelings and thoughts she’s had over the past few months rolling around in her head. Shoshana’s right, she has made progress. Gone is some of the self-doubt that plagued her when Eliseo left. Gone too are the fears that led to her brief on-again, off-again thing with Marshall. She closes her eyes when she recalls how close she was to hooking up with Justin. To use one of his pathetic baseball metaphors, she’s O for three with men. Although can she count Marshall with the others? Her feelings tell her she can’t. She knows he’s different, and she’s different with him. He was right about how much they feel for one another, but not even he is in a position to promise her anything.

  Camila drops her phone back into her bag and flags the waiter. She’s going to need another drink.

  Shoshana slides the towel off her head. “Why are you still here?”

  “There’s no point in seeing him now. It will only hurt us more. I think it’s best to leave it alone.”

  Chapter 56

  “Go on, blow out your candle,” her mother encourages.

  Camila does her best to smile and blows out the candle. She picks up a fork and takes a bite of the tres leches cake. It’s always been her favorite cake to have on her birthday. Although tonight, for some reason, it doesn’t taste as sweet. Camila sneaks a glance over at her father, who hasn’t said much throughout the entire dinner, and notices him push away his half-eaten slice.

  “When are your exams?” Mari asks her.

  “Next week,” Camila replies, running her spoon along the top of her cake.

  “One more semester and then you’re finished. Are you looking forward to graduating?” Her mother asks, avoiding the subject of Camila’s near-future job at Cohen Real Estate.

  Camila shrugs. Is that how it’s going to be? She wonders. Will she ever be able to tell her parents about her job? She wishes they could have their usual conversations about the neighborhood and friends and her father’s classes. There was always some lesson to be gleaned, some idea to share but tonight, nothing.

  Her mother crumples up her napkin and throws it down on the table. “That is enough, both of you. Basta.”

  Camila and her father sit up and stare at Mari. Rarely does she get this upset so when she does, they know to listen. “You two, such spoiled ingrates.” She points to the half-eaten chicken, rice and beans, maduros, and salad. “I make your favorite dinner, and cake, and what do I get? Where’s the respect? You’re going to mope on your birthday because your father is being a baby?”

  “I am not being a baby. I’ve made my position clear, and she went ahead and took the job.”

  “Ay, cabron. It was her decision. We raised Camila to be her own person. And when she does something you don’t like, you take it personally.”

  “It is personal, Mari. She’s working for the family business.”

  “And you are going to shame her for that choice? How long will you punish her for the decision that your father made.”

  “It’s not about him.”

  “It is all about him, not our daughter. She has a chance, Bernie. She has a future. It’s all we wanted for her.”

  “Sometimes we make decisions we regret.”

  Mari gasps.

  “I don’t mean you,” Bernie backpedals. “I was referring to Camila and how she’ll regret this choice.”

  “You can’t know that, Dad. You seem so sure I’m making a mistake. You don’t doubt any of your decisions, do you? Can you tell me one that you regret?”

  Bernie regards his daughter carefully. Finally, he shakes his head.

  “Then why do you assume that I will?”

  “From personal experience.” He reaches across the small table, the same one where they’ve eaten all their birthday dinners together since Camila was born. Twenty-six years. Bernie shakes his head. “The pursuit of money kills you from the inside out. I don’t want to see it change you.”

  “I won’t let it, Dad,” Camila assures him.

  Her father remains unmoved though. “It’s not something you can promise. You’re too young to know how it corrupts.”

  “Not that young anymore. You haven’t even asked what I would do as CEO.”

  Bernie stares back at his daughter. “There’s only so much you can do,” he replies.

  Camila shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not.”

  Chapter 57

  “Excuse me,” Camila turns away from the office door and addresses Marshall’s assistant. She waits for the middle-aged woman to stop typing.

  “What is it, dear?”

  “Is Professor James in his office?”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  Camila shakes her head. “We usually meet at this time to discuss Law Review submissions.”

  “Ah,” the woman nods. “All Law Review matters will be addressed by the new advisor, Professor Riley.”

  Camila is too caught off-guard to mask her surprise. “I . . . I’m sorry. As Editor-in-Chief, I wasn’t informed . . . .”

  “You weren’t the only one, dear. You would think Professor James would’ve had the courtesy to give more than a week’s notice that he’s taking a leave of absence. But Professors in those ivory towers don’t have a clue. It’s not going to be easy filling his position.” She points to the opposite end of the corridor. “You should be able to find Professor Riley in her office now.”

  Camila nods, unable to form the words “thank you.”

  She moves through the rest of the day on auto-pilot. Of course she could call Marshall to find out why he decided to take a leave of absence, but it’s not difficult for Camila to figure out the reason. She had to wonder why he didn’t tell her sooner, but then remembered that important thing he wanted to talk to her about. Her heart drops into her stomach when she remembers that text. She never responded.

  A shadow falls over Camila through the day and into the night as she mixes drinks at L. She wants to call her cousin, but she knows she’ll have to suffer through the I-told-you-to-see-him before she arrives at any constructive advice. In the end, she already knows what she has to do. What she doesn’t know is what she’ll say when she does.

  “You look about as upset as I feel,” Felicity tells Camila.

  “Todd and I are taking a break,” she continues, not waiting for Camila to speak.

  “Isn’t taking a break about the same as a break-up?” Camila asks, grating horseradish over a blend of fresh apple juice and vodka.

  “Usually, but it’s more complicated this time.”

  Camila slides the drink over to Simone, a new waitress who replaced Gemma, and says, “Do I even want to know?”

  Felicity shakes her head. “Men are just snakes. Sometimes you just don’t know which ones are the poisonous ones until they bite you.”

  “Hard to imagine that about Todd, from what little I know.”

  “Some people have pasts, you know,” Felicity informs her cryptically.

  “And his isn’t easy to overlook?”

  Felicity shakes her head and sighs. “What about you? Exams are finished, yeah? You should be on the other side celebrating.” She reaches for a bottle of bourbon and pours two shots. “Sadness demands bourbon.”

  They quickly take the shots and allow the liquid to warm their insides. “Perfect for a cold night like
tonight. I think it’s supposed to snow.”

  “I was dating someone,” Camila confesses. “It was great, and then it wasn’t. Then it got a little messy, and now it’s not. I mean, it’s over, but now it doesn’t have to be . . . I think.” She rubs her left temple.

  “Who gets to decide that?” Felicity asks.

  “Me, I think. Unless his feelings have changed in a week.”

  “Does he have any skeletons?”

  Camila shakes her head. “Far fewer than any of the guys I’ve known.”

  “That’s something to consider. From my experience, the longer you live and date in this City, the more skeletons you accumulate.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  Chapter 58

  “You had a chance to look at the contract the lawyers sent over?” Art asks Camila.

  “Yes, of course. It came with quite a generous signing bonus.” Camila sits on the black leather chair facing her uncle’s desk. His office is twice the size of her studio apartment and boasts a ninety-degree view of midtown Manhattan.

  “Well-deserved as far as I’m concerned. Bringing you in means many more years for our company to compete in this thriving metropolis.”

  It also means not having to spend fifteen years paying off my law school debt, she thinks to herself.

  Art clasps his hands and leans his forearms on his wide, mahogany desk. “Look, Camila. I realize I didn’t get a chance to apologize for the way I behaved on Thanksgiving. I should’ve left it to you to tell him, and I’m sorry I didn’t. Natalie and Shoshana have made it very clear that I was in the wrong. And I humbly concur.”

  “You were,” Camila tells him. “Although I understand. He’s your older brother who left you to run this company by yourself. I’m sure there’s some resentment over that.”

  Art shakes his head. “It’s all in the past.”

  “After that night, I have to wonder if that’s true. Legacy is difficult to manage, especially when it all falls on a single person.”

  “Perhaps.” Art swivels his chair and gets up. He rounds his desk and leans against it. “Do you find the terms agreeable?” He asks, getting off the subject of his brother. His niece can’t possibly understand what it’s been like to run the company alone, with his only brother, the person he most respected and looked up to, gone to live his own life. He’d been forced to weather every downturn, recession and real estate bust by himself. In order to keep Bernie in his life, he wasn’t able to discuss any business matters with him. It was a compromise he felt compelled to make to keep the peace, one that he believes hurt him more than Bernie.

  So when Camila came into his office and discussed working at Cohen Real Estate, he felt vindicated. Those years of carrying the family legacy would not be in vain, and he couldn’t, no, he didn’t want to help himself that night. He wanted to hurt Bernie, like he’d been hurt all those decades ago.

  “I believe we can find some wiggle room in the salary area if you’d like. Seeing how you don’t have a trust fund or any shares in the company as yet, it seems only fair.”

  “Fifteen percent of the company is a good start.” Camila props her elbows on the armrest. “I’ve managed well without a trust. As for the salary, I believe twenty-five thousand more would be commensurate with what your CFO made when he first started at my position.”

  Art clears his throat. He’d told the lawyers to be thorough. “That was an oversight, I’m sure. You will definitely find that there is no gender gap in pay here and that we offer extremely generous benefits to our employees.”

  Camila nods. “Yes, I’m sure you do.”

  They both stare at one another, waiting for the other to speak. Art knows she wants something. If she didn’t, she would’ve signed the contract by now. It’s been in her possession for over a week. The waiting was a tactic, and he’s a patient man. He knew eventually she would come to him with her terms. He just didn’t know how much those terms would cost.

  “Aside from the condo development on the LES, what else do you have?”

  “We have a rather expansive development in Brooklyn Heights that’s still in the planning stages, as well as a multi-purpose space in Chelsea. Just to name a few.”

  “You also have a hotel going up in the Bowery, a high-rise in Clinton, and you’re currently converting an office building into an uber-luxury condominium down in the Financial District.” She clears her throat. “To name a few more.”

  “You are going to be a very quick study when you join us,” Art tells Camila.

  “I hope to be.” She pulls out the contract. “I’ve marked the changes I would like made to this. As you can see, there is one other area that needs amending aside from the salary change.”

  Art takes it from her and begins flipping to the page she’s indicated with a tab. He skims it and then tosses it onto his desk. “That will cost us an extra ten million a year. We cannot afford to do that.”

  “Then we sell. As far as I see it, you have two choices.”

  Art grimaces. “You’ve inherited your father’s idealism. You’re asking for the impossible.”

  “As far as I see it, if you continue to price out the middle-class with all these ‘luxury living spaces’, as you like to call them, you will hurt the hard-working people of this City, which doesn’t need more empty apartments.”

  “Almost ninety percent of our units have been pre-sold.”

  “And how many of those owners actually live and work in the City? I’m betting most of that money is from foreign countries.”

  “My father always said that where money comes from doesn’t matter as much as where it’s spent.”

  “Then consider my proposal as a way of counter-balancing that. New York has more to offer than other urban centers, but like them, it doesn’t offer enough for working women with families, many of whom are single parents. As far as I’m concerned, we can’t push them out and then decide whatever happens to them isn’t our responsibility.”

  “Everything you’re proposing from affordable housing to vocational schools costs a lot of money, Camila. I’m sure you and Shoshana can set up a day care or preschool system through the foundation.”

  “We will. But we need to ensure people can access these places, and it will be difficult when they are pushed farther out of the City. People are an investment Uncle Art. I think if you consider my plan carefully, you’ll see that helping New Yorkers will ensure the company’s future.” She points to the contract on his desk. “Invest or sell. Your choice.”

  Chapter 59

  “I’m glad you came.” Camila greets Marshall when he approaches her table.

  He looks around at the intimate space, with sublime Japanese touches and dark, rich colors. “I could never turn down your offer for a drink.” Marshall slides into the booth. “Although I would’ve thought this place is a bit too close to campus for you.”

  Camila raises her right shoulder. “Is it for you?”

  Marshall shakes his head. “Not at all.”

  Camila draws a breath to settle her racing heart. She’d no idea how she expected to feel when she sent him the text that morning to meet her. It’s been two weeks since that afternoon in the hotel. A part of her wouldn’t have been surprised if he refused. The fact that he’d accepted within five minutes of her text set her up for another kind of worry, that perhaps he wanted to see her in person to tell her he’s moving on.

  Now, with him only inches apart from her, she can feel his energy reaching for her. The air surrounding them is charged with something only they can feel.

  “What can I get for you?”

  The server’s question seems to startle Camila and Marshall who were becoming cocooned in that energy.

  Camila glances at the menu quickly. “Your champagne cocktail with Campari and vermouth please.”

  Marshall doesn’t bother to look at the menu. “Same,” he tells the waitress. He turns to Camila. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to hear from you.”

  “I wondered
the same when I found out about your sudden leave of absence.”

  “When you didn’t reply to my text, I thought you were serious about not being with me.”

  A pang hits Camila squarely in the chest. “I thought we were at an impasse. And I knew I couldn’t trust myself if I had to see you again.”

  Marshall doesn’t give in to the urge to smile. They’re so close, he can feel it. “Now you can?”

  She runs a finger along the length of the glass the waitress set in front of her and nods her head slightly. “I needed time to be clear about a few things.”

  “Two weeks long enough?”

  Camila takes a sip. “I signed my contract with Cohen Real Estate today. My uncle accepted my terms.”

  Marshall raises his glass. “Congratulations. That’s something worth celebrating.”

  “What about you? Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere,” Marshall replies, slowly rubbing his hands together to keep from touching Camila.

  “But your assistant said you took a leave of absence.”

  “I did. Just for the Spring semester. A partner at Sullivan & Moore, who happens to be a Weinfeld Benefactor, called the Dean and made a rather compelling case for why he needed me to help prepare some briefs for a case they’re appealing to the Supreme Court next year.”

  “Timing is rather interesting.”

  “It does seem to be,” Marshall agrees, allowing the truth to sink in a bit more in their silence. Normally, he wouldn’t be inclined to accept a favor from his parents. He’d always been clear that he wanted to earn everything he achieved, which is why he didn’t attend the same schools as them or allow his parents to call in favors when he pursued his clerkships. The one exception he was willing to make was for Camila. Because he wanted nothing more than to earn the chance to love her completely.