Love To Love You (Love/Hate #3)

by Isabelle Richards

  “Perfect. I’ll explain everything then. I promise, I won’t sound like a raving lunatic then.”

  Charlie hands my dress back to me. “What was that all about?”

  I text Chase and let him know I’ll be later than expected then stick my phone in my purse. “I think Alice is having some sort of breakdown. I need to go see her after this.”

  “She just lost her whole family. She’s allowed to have a breakdown. If anyone can help her through this, it’s you.”

  A trash truck barrels down the street, bypassing the full dumpsters in the alley.

  Charlie points at the steps that lead to the basement door. “Is this it? There’s no sign.”

  “Yup. It’s one of those places you need to be in the know to know about,” I reply.

  “Well, let’s go in. It smells like rotting seafood out here, and it’s a million degrees out today. Did San Francisco forget it’s only February? It’s too early to be this hot.”

  I gesture to the stairs. “After you.”

  We walk down five steps then reach the blue door to Bubbe’s small shop.

  “Hi, Bubbe,” I call when we walk into the tiny front room.

  She jumps down from her stool then comes around the counter that’s almost as tall as she is. The humidity has made her short, naturally curly silver hair a little frizzy, yet it works for her.

  “Come in! Come in! Let me see you.” She takes my dress bag from my hands. “Look at you, you’re shvitzing. You’ll cool down in here.” She reaches into the pocket of her maroon smock and pulls out a Werther’s Original. “Suck on this. It will help.”

  I motion to Charlie. “Bubbe, this is my matron of honor, Charlotte.”

  Bubbe looks Charlie over, shoves her hand back in her pocket, then hands Charlie a Werther’s. “You need this. It’s good for you.” Bubbe takes a step then turns back. “And beets. You need some beets. Good iron in beets.”

  Charlie winces. “My doctor told me to avoid beets.”

  Bubbe flips her hands and pretends to spit on the floor, or at least I think she’s pretending. “Fey! Doctors don’t know anything. You listen to Bubbe. I’ll never steer you wrong.” She waves down the narrow hallway to her fitting room.

  “Did you receive the shipment of fabric?” Knowing my dress will need to be let out, I had the woman who worked on it send everything she had left to Bubbe.

  “Yes, yes, I’ve got it all. Don’t you worry, Bubbe will fix everything.” She steps on a stool then hangs my dress on a hook. “Let’s see this dress. You call me when you’re ready.” She steps down then pats my arm.

  When she’s left the room, Charlie says, “She’s adorable. I just want to put her in my pocket and carry her around with me everywhere.”

  I unzip the bag and pull out my dress. Looking over my shoulder, I say, “She’s right, you know. More beets would probably help with your anemia.”

  “What do beets taste like anyway?”

  I unzip my jeans then step out. “Remember that smoothie you had a sip of this morning?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Like that.” I pull off my sweater then toss it on the chair with my jeans.

  “Oh, that was pretty good.”

  I slip into my dress and fall in love with it all over again. I can’t breathe because of the weight I’ve gained, but oxygen is a small price to pay. “So what do you think?”

  Charlie’s hands cover her mouth. “You look amazing. You are so right. This is the dress. That Chanel dress was gorgeous, but this… this is on a whole other plane. You’ll be the most beautiful bride to ever walk down the aisle.” She sniffs as her eyes turn glassy. “And that’s saying something because I was absolutely breathtaking.”

  I wink at her. “How about we call it a tie.”

  “Fair enough.” She takes a few pictures with her phone. “Do you still love it as much?”

  “Maybe more.” I turn to get a better look at the back in the three-way mirror. “How’s the back fat situation? Backless seemed like such a great idea before twins and a forced forty-pound weight gain.”

  “Don’t worry, any weight you’ve gained has gone straight to your rack. Which looks stunning by the way. You’ve got killer cleavage.”

  I turn and look at the front of my dress. “I’m about to bust out of it. Let’s hope Bubbe can corral the girls back in. I’d rather not give people dinner and a show at my wedding.”

  Bubbe walks back into the fitting room holding a pin cushion that looks like a tomato. “Up, up,” she says, gesturing for me to step onto the stool. She sets the pin cushion down then carefully examines my dress. “This dress is beautiful. Elegant. This lace is exquisite. French?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew it! Bubbe knows lace, and this is good lace. Hand stitched. Just lovely. Needs pearls though. Bubbe will give you pearls.” She looks at the stitching along the hem. “This is very good work. You said you designed this?”

  “Yes, and I found the fabric. A seamstress in New York assembled it. But some things have changed since then.”

  Bubbe smiles. “Babies will do that. That’s why I told Karl to leave some growing room. But that is okay. This dress is better, I can tell.”

  I stare at her blankly. How does she know?

  She takes a pin out of her tomato then puts it in her mouth as she pinches the fabric of my dress. “Karl’s dress would have been pretty, but in this dress, you are radiant. Don’t worry, Bubbe will fix everything. The dress will be perfect for your big day.” She motions for me to step down, then she steps onto the stool and examines the bust of my dress. “We need to let it out up here. No doubt about that.” Taking the pin out of her mouth, Bubbe points at Charlie. “What are you going to wear?”

  Charlie sighs. “We looked today, and I couldn’t find anything. And we looked everywhere.”

  Bubbe looks at the zipper. “Colors?”

  “I left it up to her,” I reply.

  “I hated all the colors I saw. It’s an outside ranch wedding, with a big emphasis on the natural surroundings. The color has to be muted but not washed out. Everything I saw was either too bold or too blah!”

  “Hmmm.” She pinches the fabric along my waistline then pushes in another pin. She steps down, pulls a tiny note pad from her smock, and scribbles some notes. “The wedding is in two weeks, you say?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She points her pen toward my stomach. “Twins?”

  “Yes. How did you—”

  She taps the pen on her temple. “Bubbe always knows.” She scribbles a few more notes. “Okay. I’ll have it ready for you next Thursday. If you feel you’re starting to get big quick, you let me know.” Squinting, she points her pen at Charlie. “You.”

  Charlie drops the fabric she was looking at and points at herself. “Me?”

  Bubbe nods. “You.” Then she leaves the room.

  Charlie glances back and forth between where Bubbe was standing and me. “What did I do?”

  Chuckling, I shrug. “I have no idea.”

  “I don’t want Bubbe mad at me. That’d be like pissing off Yoda. You have to help me fix it.”

  I laugh and slip out of the dress. As I’m putting it back on the hanger, Bubbe returns with her arms full of fabric. She lays them on a small table and pulls out chiffon in various shades of pink, ranging from rose to cotton candy. In between each layer of pink, she places a cream color ranging from taupe to off-white. The end result is astonishing. The layering brings a splash of life to the muted color.

  “It’s champagne with a touch of pink! You could call it pink champagne!” Charlie says. “I love it. Not too dull but not too flashy.”

  “The right amount of oomph.” Bubbe snaps her fingers. “Up, up! I need your measurements if I’m going to make your dress in time.”

  Charlie puts her hand on her chest. “My dress?”

  “Why do you think I showed you the fabric? Did you think I needed the exercise?”

  “Oh, Bubbe, I don’t want
to—”

  “Don’t argue with Bubbe. Measurements, now.”

  Charlie looks at me, her eyes pleading for direction.

  “You’d better get up there,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water from the table.

  Bubbe pulls out her measuring tape. “I make you a fun party dress that won’t squeeze your tummy. Trust Bubbe.” Once her measurements are taken, she tells Charlie, “You come back on Thursday. That way I have time if my measurements are wrong. But Bubbe is never wrong.” Bubbe takes my dress off the hook and stops in front of me. She puts her hand on my face. “You’re a good girl. Life will be good to you.”

  Bubbe is very chatty as we get dressed. She tells us all about her wedding. Her face beams as she speaks of her late husband. She doesn’t have quite as many nice things to say about the people her children married. Charlie and I give her hugs goodbye, then head out.

  “So what just happened?” Charlie asks when we get back on the street.

  The perplexed look on her face makes me chuckle. “Bubbe’s making you a dress.”

  “But she wouldn’t tell me anything about it! We can’t count on that. What if it’s awful?” She nibbles her lip. “I need a backup!” Her face scrunches as though she’s doubting that decision. “Don’t I?”

  “That woman just ESPed not only that we’re pregnant, but that I’m having twins. I think you nailed it—she’s Yoda. She knows all. I’m sure she’ll create a dress that will become your favorite dress that you’ve ever owned. But it’s a gamble.”

  “This is crazy! I can’t bank on a dress of which the design is a complete mystery just because she guessed we’re preggers.” She tugs on my arm. “It’s your wedding. What should I do?”

  I smile. “My money’s on Bubbe.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Arianna

  I drop Charlie back at Katie’s then drive over to Levi to meet Alice. Melody shows me to Jeb’s office, and when I open the door, my heart falls as I remember he won’t be sitting behind that big desk. Seeing his chair empty feels so strange.

  As I step into the room, Alice is on the sofa, drying her eyes. Her face is blotchy and nose is bright red. Judging from the number of tissues on the coffee table, she’s been crying for a while. To my surprise, we’re not alone. Oscar and some man I’ve seen before but can’t recall are also here. I thought it was strange she wanted to meet here of all places, but now I’m really thrown for a loop.

  Alice stands then crosses the room to give me a hug. “Thanks so much for coming. With how nuts I sounded, I’m not sure I would have come if I were you.”

  “I’m happy to,” I reply. “How are you doing?”

  “Everyone says it’ll get easier, but it just feels as though it’s getting harder and harder every day.”

  I squeeze her a little tighter before letting go. “I won’t lie to you—it’ll feel like that for a while. Just lean on those around you. They’ll help you get through it. You’re not alone. Please don’t forget that.”

  Oscar stands then gives me a hug. “Hi, honey. So good to see you. Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

  Clearly everyone knows what’s going on except me. “It’s good to see you too.”

  The stranger—a man of about sixty with silver hair, wearing an Italian suit and shoes that probably cost more than most people pay in rent—stands, straightens his tie, then offers me his hand. “Ms. Aldrich, I’m Calvin Goldman. I’m the Kane family attorney.”

  “Arianna, please.”

  “Arianna,” he says with a shy grin. “Will your lawyer be joining us soon?”

  What the hell do we need lawyers for? I furrow my brow. “I didn’t know I was to invite him. I actually thought this was just supposed to be Alice and me.”

  Oscar glares at Alice. “You didn’t tell her to bring her lawyer?”

  Alice drops her head in her hands. “I’m sorry. I was so flustered when I got the iPad, I just kind of freaked out. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  I sit next to Alice on the sofa then gently rub her back. “It’s okay. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure we can sort it out. Why doesn’t someone start by telling me why we’re all here?”

  Oscar pours a glass of water then holds it out to Alice. “We have a major problem, and if we can’t find a solution, the results could be catastrophic to the organization.”

  Potential issues run through my mind. Another player scandal? Chase said something about a problem with the estate. Maybe a contested will? What if the money’s gone? A bankruptcy would probably turn the organization over to the NFL until a new owner is approved. The problems could be anything from criminal to tax evasion. I know I can’t let myself get flustered though, so for Alice’s sake, I don’t ask any questions.

  After setting her water on the table, Alice brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. “As you know, the team was Dad’s thing. He kept hoping one of us would get into it, and it just never happened. None of the kids, none of the grandkids. He realized about ten years ago that he didn’t have anyone to take the reins, so he tried even harder to get us into it. About five years ago, Jake and I suggested that he stop trying to push us kids into it and leave the team to your father.”

  I gasp. “Oh my…”

  A lump forms in my throat. Owning the Niners would have been the highlight of his life, something he probably never considered a possibility. Even if my father had levied every last cent he had, he only would have had enough to buy a tenth of the $1.2 billion dollar team. Daddy would have been the ideal owner though—business savvy, with profound understanding of the game and needs of the players. He would have been able to lead the team in a direction Jeb would have been proud of. It breaks my heart that he’s not sitting here.

  “After Aiden died, Dad felt as though he was back to square one,” she continues. “He put a ton of pressure on Jake to change his stance, but you know Jake.” She stops midsentence then clears her throat. “I mean, you knew Jake. My brother… he was so stubborn. No matter how hard Dad tried, he wasn’t going to budge. Then Dad started spending more time with you, and the answer became so obvious. So earlier this year, all four of us kids voted that the team be left in your hands.”

  There’s no way I heard her correctly that time. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

  Oscar chuckles. “I’d need a double take on that one too.”

  “You’re the new owner of the Niners,” Alice says.

  My jaw drops. Owner? Me? That’s hard for me to even fathom. The Niners were Jeb’s baby—his pride and joy. Of all the people in the world, he’s entrusted them to me. The woman the networks felt wasn’t fit to take the call for games, he felt was worthy of owning the team? The honor and responsibility that comes with that trust is massive. I’m still having a hard time processing the fact that he’s gone, let along that he’s left the team to me. Trying to wrap my head around this is overwhelming.

  “Now, the team isn’t exactly yours,” Calvin says. “To avoid estate tax issues, the team is owned by a trust. For lack of better terms, you’ve been left fifty-one percent of the shares in the trust, which gives you controlling interest and makes you the face of the ownership.”

  “I-I don’t know what to say. I’m completely shocked.” Suddenly everything Jeb has been doing this last year makes perfect sense. All the calls, dragging me to all the meetings with him. Either he was testing me or mentoring me. Regardless, it was all preparation to take the helm.

  I look at Alice, who’s trying too hard to keep the tears at bay. Her chest shudders as she stifles a sob. Suddenly, I’m hit with a wave of guilt. I can’t take the team from her. She may not have thought she’d want it when her father was still alive, but I can guarantee as time passes, she’s going to want to hold on with both hands to everything from her father. She and all the grandchildren will want it one day.

  “Alice, I can’t take this from you and your family. The money alone...”

  She shakes her head. “Per the trust
, all the grandchildren and I have a small stake in the team—three percent maybe. I guess it’s more now that there are fewer people to divide the shares between. But that’s beside the point. I don’t want the team. I now have to take over Kane Industries, and that’s more than I can handle.” Tears fall from her eyes as she looks down. “It should be Jake here instead of me. Or Ben. Even Sammy would be better than me. They’d all know what to do. I’m the family fuck-up. Mom didn’t even let me organize a family dinner, and now I have to keep a century-old company with thousands of employees afloat. So you see, I need you to do this for me. For Dad.”

  Her eyes meet mine, and I can feel how overwhelmed she is, as though the weight of the grief and responsibility is crushing her. Alice was the artsy one. The one who got caught smoking pot in high school, and then she ran off to the UK to follow the Sex Pistols and The Clash instead of going to college. It took her until her late thirties to settle down, then she became a mom. She probably feels like a pig in pointe shoes when she’s in the board room. From the look in her eyes, I can tell she feels she’s in way over her head. Alice drops her head in her hands and sobs.

  I rub soothing circles on her back. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you will get through this. I’ll help you.” I glance back and forth between Calvin and Oscar. “So what is the catastrophic problem?”

  Oscar leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “According to the bylaws of the league, transfer to a non-family member requires commissioner approval, then a confirmation vote from a minimum of three-fourths of the owners.”

  My head is scattered, thinking about a million things at once, mainly Alice and Jeb’s grandkids. I need to shift gears and get my head in the game if I’m going to be any good to anyone.

  I take my hand off Alice’s back and focus on the business at hand. “It’s no secret Eckert isn’t my favorite person, and I’m fairly confident the feeling is mutual. We didn’t exchange valentines, let’s put it that way.”

  Calvin shifts in his seat. “Around lunchtime, I received a call from Eckert’s office. They said the commissioner has completed his investigation and stated that he will not support the application to transfer ownership to you. Typically he’d have to take it to the ownership for a vote, regardless of his findings, but he’s stated you are an ineligible candidate and thus he will not present your application for a vote. We’ve been instructed that the trust must provide him with an alternate. If the trust doesn’t select someone who meets his approval, he will have the authority to place someone in charge of the team until such time as a suitable replacement can be found.”