“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hissed.
I was surprised to find that Paul looked nearly as pissed as I felt.
“Just go home, Brooke.”
“What the hell is going on, Paul?” I asked, ignoring him. “Are you, like, with her now?”
“What’s it to you?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“Are you kidding me?” I cried again, my voice rising to a shout. “Tell me that you’re kidding, Paul.”
“Listen, Brooke,” he said, leaning forward so his face was directly in mine. “Who I go out with is none of your business, okay? You have no right to show up here and be pissed off when you don’t like what you see.”
“It’s Justine Marker, Paul!” I yelled. “You know I hate her, you know all the crap she’s done to me!”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not on a date with her,” he shot back. “But none of that shit has anything to do with me.”
His words hit me like a blow to the gut. “How I feel has nothing to do with you?” I asked, pissed anew to hear the shaking of my voice. “The things that have happened to me have nothing to do with you?”
Paul sighed. “God, Brooke, why are you doing this to me? You have a boyfriend. You’re all blissed out in your new life with the cool guy from the big city. You have exactly what you always wanted, right? So why do you care what I do?”
Exactly what I always wanted. Is that what I had with John? He was pretty much the way I would have pictured my dream man when I was growing up. Gorgeous, sophisticated, exciting. Then why did I feel like I was about to burst into tears?
Paul was watching my face closely, and suddenly his softened. “Look, Murray. It’s not a big deal with Justine and me, okay? We’ve just been hanging out lately. I know you don’t like her, so I didn’t tell you about it. But it’s really not something to get worked up over, okay?”
He had a point, of course. There was no reason for me to be so bothered by who he dated. In the years that I had known him, Paul had dated tons of girls. I had always teased him about being a player, and he would, in turn, tease me about being a hussy. It was something we had always had in common. So why did the idea of him with Justine make me so upset? I literally felt sick to my stomach at the thought.
“I’m sorry to put a damper on your night,” I finally said, trying to pull myself together. “You’re right, it’s none of my business.” I turned to go, but Paul once again caught me by the elbow, turning me to face him. He looked at me for a long moment, not speaking. I felt my cheeks start to color, though I hardly knew why. His gaze was intense, his eyes a fraction of a shade darker than they usually were. Staring up at him, I felt my stomach dip sharply.
But then Paul sighed and released my arm. “Drive safe,” he said softly. I stared at him for a moment longer, seemingly unable to pull my eyes away.
“Night,” I whispered, not understanding what I was feeling.
I don’t know how long we would have stood like that, staring at each other in the vestibule, had Justine not chosen that moment to burst through the door.
I groaned, knowing I could not handle a run-in with her.
“What the hell’s going on?” she asked, her voice cold.
“I’m just leaving,” I said, turning to go. “Have a good night.”
“Get lost, Brooke,” she said.
I spun to face her, some of the rage returning. “What the hell part of ‘I’m just leaving’ did you not understand?”
“I’m serious,” she said, taking a step toward me. “Stay the fuck away from him. You think he’s yours, don’t you? That you can just screw him whenever you want and then throw him away—”
I raised my hand to slap her, unable to take it anymore, but Paul grabbed my hand before I could make contact.
“Just go, Brooke,” he said, sounding tired. “It’s not worth it.”
“She’s not worth it,” I clarified. And then, because I was pissed at him as well and feeling mean, I added, “isn’t that what you always tell me about her? That she’s not worth it?”
I just caught a glimpse of her enraged face before I spun on my heel, not wanting to look at either of them for a second longer, and strode out into the night, my anger fueling me all the way to my truck.
It was only once I was inside that I let myself think about Justine’s words, about what she had said about Paul and me, and about how very right she actually had been.
Chapter Twenty-four
For the first time in my life, things were awkward between Paul and me. We had been friends for ages, had dated and hooked up, wanted different things, lived in different cities, but through it all we had remained friends. Now, for the first time, I wondered if we had lost that. We didn’t talk about Justine or our fight at the bar—in fact, we didn’t talk about much at all. I had no idea if they were together still or if my parting shot had caused him any problems. When we did talk, it was only about work, and Paul regarded me with a blank and indifferent expression that, for some reason, made me feel slightly nauseated. I constantly asked myself why I should care so much that he was dating Justine, but I couldn’t come up with a reason. All I knew was that his seeing her felt like the worst kind of betrayal.
Then, in early April, something happened that pushed Paul and Justine right out of my mind. Something that would, in fact, change my entire life.
I was eating dinner with my parents down in the inn’s restaurant. Mrs. Miller had made lasagna that night, and I was concentrating so hard on eating that I didn’t even notice that my parents looked worried.
“Brookie,” my mother said as I dug into my second piece of garlic bread. “Your father and I have something to tell you.”
I looked up at her, the bread dangling from my fingertips. This wasn’t going to be good, I could tell.
“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
My mom looked at my father. He stared at me helplessly for a minute, silent, then cast his gaze down to the floor, looking lost. I felt a stab of fear. Was someone sick? My mom sighed and reached out for my hand.
“Sweetie, we’re selling the inn.”
I stared at her in confusion for a minute, before turning my attention to my dad. He was still looking down at his plate, as if unable to meet my eyes.
“I don’t understand,” I finally said. “What are you saying?”
“We’ve gotten a very good offer from those developers, and we’ve decided to accept it,” my mother said.
“Wait, you’ve already decided this?” I asked, my voice raising. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Paul at the bar, looking over in our direction.
“Yes.”
“Without talking to me about it? Without even consulting me? Are you freaking kidding me?”
“Don’t use that language,” my mother said automatically.
I stared at my dad. He was still gazing down at his plate. “Dad,” I shouted. “What the hell is this?”
When he raised his head, I was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Brookie,” he whispered. “I really messed up.”
“But it can’t be final,” I said. “You haven’t signed anything yet, have you?”
“No, I wasn’t talking about the sale,” he said. “The sale is necessary because I messed up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There are debts,” he whispered.
I waved my hand. “I know about the debts. Why do you think I’ve been working so hard? We’re almost clear.”
“No, Brooke. There are debts you don’t know about. Private agreements between me and a few businesses in town.”
“Wait, you took out private loans? Without telling me?”
“This was years ago, Brooke,” he said, his face pained. “Way before you came back. I’ve been paying them back—”
“I would have noticed payments from the inn’s account,” I started to say, but he held up a hand.
“I was using my own money. I didn’t want you to know. These people we
re friends of mine. They assured me not to worry about it, to pay what I could. But then…”
“What?”
“Duggan Development bought Betty’s store last week,” my mom said, her voice quiet. “Apparently their plans require more land than just our property. Once the sale went through…Our debt was on the books at Betty’s. They’re demanding repayment or they’ll take us to court.”
I stared at her, openmouthed. This couldn’t be happening.
“How much?”
“It doesn’t matter,” my mother said. “We can’t get money from the bank—”
“You don’t know that. Let me talk to them—”
“We tried, Brooke,” she said, sounding tired. “You know what happened to our credit when Daddy got hurt. They say we’re a bad risk.”
“I’ll take it out in my name,” I said. “I have excellent credit.”
“You’re not doing that,” my dad said firmly. “You’re not going into debt because of me. I won’t allow it.”
“But, Dad,” I said, feeling like I was about to burst into tears. “It’s the inn.”
As I said the word, I suddenly understood just how much this place had come to mean to me. After all my years of complaining, all the months of resenting it since I came back—somehow, in the middle of all of that, I had fallen in love with this place. It meant more to me than I could have ever guessed. The thought of it being torn down caused a physical pain in my chest.
“I know that, baby,” my dad said, his own tears starting to spill over now. “I know how much it matters to you. I know how hard you worked to save it. I’m so sorry.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I looked back and forth between my parents, completely at a loss for words.
“They are offering us a fair price, Brooke. More than fair, I’d say,” my mom said. “They could use the debt to force us into a bad deal, but they’re not doing that. We’re lucky, really.”
“Lucky?” I couldn’t believe she could use that word to describe this situation. What the hell were we going to do?
“Your mom and I can retire, Brooke. We can get a place and be comfortable. That’s a blessing.”
I shook my head. Of course I wanted that for them, but I couldn’t believe my dad would ever be happy without the inn. And then there was me…
“You’ll be okay, too, Brooke,” my mom said, as if she was reading my mind. “I know you never wanted to come back here. This is your chance to do something different with your life, don’t you think? You’ll be getting half the money.”
My mouth dropped open. “What? No. That’s not right, I couldn’t—”
“Yes, you will,” my dad said firmly. “We wouldn’t have an inn to sell if it wasn’t for you. Besides, I had always intended for this place to be your…your inheritance...” Suddenly my dad was sobbing, big, wracking sobs that shook his whole body. I stared at him in horror. I had never seen him lose it like this.
“Daddy—”
“Brooke, why don’t you go out for a while,” my mom said softly, taking my dad’s hand. “Give your dad some privacy.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
“Too bad,” my mom said, a rare burst of temper flashing through. “This is heartbreaking for your father. You have no idea the shame we’re feeling—”
She put a hand to her mouth, and I was afraid she was going to start crying too. I didn’t think I could handle that.
“Just go, sweetie, please.”
I jumped up from the table, suddenly desperate to get out of there, to get away from them, from the inn.
Paul tried to catch me as I rushed by the bar. “Brooke? Are you okay?”
I shook him off. There was only one person I wanted to see right now, only one person I could trust to help me make sense of this.
I didn’t stop running until I reached John’s house.
* * *
“Brooke? What’s wrong?”
I stood on John’s front porch, panting. I had started crying at some point on the run over, and I was sure my hair and face were a mess. But just seeing his face helped me to feel calmer somehow. I wiped my eyes. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” he opened the door for me and led me into the living room. The first thing I saw was Lainey. She was lying on the carpet in the middle of the room, a pile of coloring books and crayons surrounding her. When I walked in, she looked up.
“Lainey, this is my friend, Brooke,” John said. “You met her at the hotel.”
“Hello,” she said, hanging her head a little to look at me from under her lashes—long and dark, just like her dad. She struck me as shy, but maybe she was just afraid of me in my current disheveled state. I probably looked like a crazy person.
“Sweetie, Brooke and I need to talk about grown-up stuff. Can you take your coloring books up to your room for a little while?”
“Okay,” she said, bending to gather her things. When she got to the stairs she turned suddenly. “I like your boots,” she said, then ran up the stairs before I could even say thank you.
“She’s a little shy,” John said. He led me to the couch and we sat. “What’s going on? You look like hell—are you alright?”
I took a shaky breath, afraid that the tears would start again. “My parents sold the inn.”
John looked stricken for a moment, but then his face smoothed out until I thought I might have imagined it. “I’m sorry, Brooke,” he said. “When did they tell you?”
He seemed less surprised than I would have expected, but I pushed the thought away. “Just now, over dinner. They said…” I felt my voice start to tremble. “Apparently they have some debt, stuff I never knew about, and the developers are pretty much forcing them. They say they’ll be able to retire now.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
I stared at him, feeling confused. Why wasn’t he more upset for me? “John, you don’t understand. The inn is going to be torn down. It will be gone. Just like that. Everything I’ve worked for.”
“I’m sorry, Brooke,” he said, taking my hand. He looked down at our joined fingers for a moment. “But couldn’t you think of this as an opportunity?” he finally asked, looking up at me. “A chance to go after something that makes you really happy?” He smiled briefly. “Maybe you could buy your own hotel, like you wanted. Plant your rose bushes.”
“Lilacs,” I said, stung, for some reason, that he hadn’t remembered properly. It was such a minor thing, in the middle of all this, to be upset about.
“Sorry,” he said, shrugging. I watched his face closely. Something was going on here. John was acting weird. Why was he underplaying this so much?
“But it also means I’m about to lose one of the most important things in my life, and I didn’t have any say in it.”
“I’m sure your parents did what they thought was best,” he said, releasing my hand and going to stand by the front window. He peered out into the gathering darkness. “And if they got a good price for it, I’m sure they’ll be able to be very comfortable.”
“How do you know what price they got for it?” I asked, suddenly feeling chilled. I hadn’t said anything about the deal’s specifics. John turned to look at me. There was something in his eyes, something that made my stomach drop for some reason. “You already knew, didn’t you?”
He sighed, and walked back to the couch. “Yes. I knew.”
“What—how?”
“Brooke, I wanted to tell you this last week but I couldn’t seem to find a good time…”
“Tell me what?”
“My firm is representing the developers.”
I stared at him, feeling like the room was spinning. How could this be true? How could he be working for the people that were after my parents’ inn? How could he have kept it from me?
“All this time?” I asked, my voice a whisper.
“No,” he said firmly, sitting next to me again. He tried to take my hand, but I pulled it out of his grasp. Instead, he ran a ha
nd through his hair. I had a sudden image of him in my office, doing the same thing as he told me about Lainey.
“I knew Duggan Development was a client, but I wasn’t on their account. I never knew who they were, or what their plans were, just that they were acquiring property in town. But last week they made an offer on a home goods store in town—”
“Betty’s,” I said.
“Yeah,” John said, swallowing. “Anyhow, the partners brought me in to handle that sale. It was my first contact with them. That’s when I found out who they were…and what they were after.” John sighed. “In all honesty, this is probably why they hired me, why they were so aggressive with their offer. They must have known they were going to need more manpower once this thing with Duggan’s got going.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” I asked, staring at him in horror. I couldn’t believe this.
“I wanted to, Brooke, I swear,” he said. “But I didn’t know what to say. I knew you would be upset. And when they found the debt, well, the deal was too far gone by then. There was nothing I could do.”
“You could have told me,” I said, clenching my fists to try and contain my anger. “So I wouldn’t have been so blindsided. So I could have been there for my parents when they found out.” I had a sudden image of my dad’s face crumpling at dinner, of the way his body had shook with sobs. “I should have been with them,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry,” John said, shaking his head. “I didn’t know what to do. But you’re right, I should have told you.”
“Yeah, you should have,” I stood, my mind reeling. How could I have misjudged this situation so much? “I have to get out of here.”
“Brooke, no,” John said, standing and reaching out for me. I took a step back. “Don’t go like this, not when you’re upset.”
“This is a fucking joke,” I whispered, feelings tears start to prick my eyes once again. “I can’t believe I was this stupid.”
“Brooke, it’s not your fault—”
“Not about the sale, you ass. About you. About us.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this, John,” I said, waving my hand to indicate the space between us. “Here I was, thinking this was something special. Thinking we were falling in love. And I meant nothing to you!”
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