All the paperwork was complete. With a few strokes of her pen to execute the documents, Kade would be starting and managing a new venture-capital firm. A drum of excitement beat through her. She would be helping female business owners and executives pursue their dreams on a level playing field. Years ago, when she was a fresh-faced college graduate forming her first company, a VC firm like this didn’t exist. She’d been fortunate in a way. She hadn’t been forced to choose between her family and her company. Work had dominated her life then as it did now.
These days, however, she wasn’t feeling particularly lucky. As elated as she was at the prospect of putting women on a more equal footing in the Valley, she’d subordinate work to family in a heartbeat if it meant Jen was sharing her life. She wouldn’t hesitate to put this endeavor on hold for Jen, temporarily or permanently.
Something undefinable was delaying her, keeping her from signing, nipping at her brain like a puppy at her heels, harmless yet insistent. Glass of wine in hand, she walked barefoot through her condo, trying to figure out what was pawing at her. The kaleidoscope Holly had given her caught her attention, so she scooped it up as she meandered.
She sat cross-legged on the dining-room floor, next to a section of train-set scenery involving a logging town. The train passed by every few minutes on an exact schedule, the synchronized timepieces surrounding it marking its feat of precision. A child would love this room, she thought as she watched the cars roll along. She never had.
Setting down the wine, she looked through the kaleidoscope lens. The colorful images were bold and beautiful, like stained glass. She recalled Holly’s words about the lens through which Gordon saw her causing him to see things differently. It was a lovely idea, she thought as she looked around the room, as she took the pulse of her life to gauge its health and asked herself whether her own vision of it was distorted or clear.
This room contained artifacts of her childhood, none of which she reminisced about fondly. She’d always thought she’d glean answers from them over time, but that had never materialized. Clocks and train sets made Gordon happy, not Kade. More than that, they made her unhappy.
“You killed her.” His words had plagued her for years. But hadn’t she assigned herself the blame before he’d ever said it? Yes, he’d squeezed citrus into the gaping wound, but the injury had already been bone and soul deep, taking root the moment she’d noticed the rescue team head up the mountain.
Another sip of wine, another intake of her surroundings. Her father hadn’t lined her condo with timepieces, either. Nor had he installed a train set inside its walls or converted a family room into a boardroom. Nor had he moved her into this residence, largely devoid of warmth, lacking in details to welcome guests.
Kade had done all those things exactly for the reasons Holly identified—erecting hurdles designed to prevent people from getting too close, constructed to protect them from her. Far from caring for the girl Cassie once loved, she was punishing her over and over.
Slowly, she twirled the kaleidoscope in her lap, trying to see things differently for once. She thought of Holly’s words. If Cassie could somehow come back to us, would you stop spending time with her because you were afraid you might hurt her?
Not a chance. Kade could never punish Cassie for her enthusiastic love of life or ask her to live less. Smaller. Protected. No. Cassie needed to be free to play, explore, adventure, and she reveled at bringing out that same spirit in Kade.
Kade needed to return to living, to following Cassie’s example of how to do it. She wasn’t sure how she’d manage, but it was essential. Leaving this mausoleum would be a start.
There was the “us” in Holly’s question as well. Holly had been a child during Kade and Cassie’s teenage years. At those ages, the difference was significant. No more. Holly was a grown woman who would delight at having Cassie in her life. Moreover, Kade realized, at this point Holly had been her friend longer than Cassie had. Holly and Cassie were fairly different personality types but very similar when it came to Kade, both looking after her in ways she’d never deserved, without reservation.
She and Holly didn’t have the all-consuming type of friendship she had with Cassie, but they had each other’s back, made each other laugh, and were consistent sounding boards in each other’s lives. Having Holly as her assistant added an odd dynamic to their relationship, requiring a layer of distance on one hand and complete transparency on the other.
They didn’t often speak of Cassie, given the years that had passed. The one-two punch of Jen’s resemblance to her and Gordon’s stroke had brought Cassie to the forefront of their minds again. And so Kade didn’t usually compare Holly and Cassie. One was the friend of her youth, the other the friend of her adulthood. Both meant the world to her, and as she studied the kaleidoscope, she realized why she hesitated to sign the paperwork.
Kade had been doing a terrible job of expressing to Holly how much she appreciated her. Holly knew how much Kade had loved her sister, but did Holly understand how much Kade loved her? Had Kade ever told her?
It was far past time to let Holly know what she meant to her, and Kade had an idea that would leave no doubt.
She returned the kaleidoscope to its shelf, feeling better for having a plan for Holly. Too bad she was bereft of one for how to rejoin the land of the living. Her only ideas on that front revolved around Jen, a dead end.
She took another sip of wine and slid onto a stool in the kitchen, where she had pleasant memories of happier times with Jen. They could have been good together, couldn’t they? If she hadn’t screwed up?
Having Jen love her—and she’d glimpsed that love—eclipsed everything else. Jen was an anti-gravity phenomenon, repelling forces that dragged Kade down. More than buoy her, Jen made her feel she could climb higher. Soar. How was that possible when she’d asked Kade only to be herself?
No, that wasn’t the entire request. She’d also asked Kade to turn inward, to find the woman—or was it the child—inside her and tell her she was worthy of love. Convince her of it. Repeat it until it was second nature, as easy to believe as knowing her name.
A daunting demand. Kade understood that if she couldn’t love herself, she had no right to expect anyone else to love her. But making it a reality seemed akin to landing on the moon. How could she not only begin to believe she was lovable, but do so in time for Jen to give her another chance? Might as well pack it in now.
Kade smiled as an image of Holly popped into her head, scolding her for exaggerating. Baby steps, she reminded herself as she sipped her wine. If she were counseling the CEO of a startup, she’d suggest breaking things into small, achievable pieces. When fund-raising, tech firms needn’t have solved all their challenges in order to raise money. They needed the money to execute on the company’s vision. Only the idea needed to be solid.
Kade could espouse the idea of loving herself. She didn’t have to start shouting from rooftops how wonderful she was. She didn’t have to completely believe she deserved love today. But she did need to start taking steps in that direction, and she had to do it on her own.
Though the first step wouldn’t be easy, the only way to arrive at the destination was to begin the journey.
She walked down the hall to the master bathroom and looked in the mirror. Memories of Jen standing with her arms around her, the sound of her voice telling Kade she deserved to be loved, permeated and warmed her. Another image of sorts stood behind her, Cassie repeatedly moving her hand in a forward rolling motion, as if telling Kade to get on with it so they could go outside. Both women had something to impress upon her.
It was time to listen.
Focusing on her own solemn eyes, she contemplated the words required to close this chapter of her life, reminding herself that she didn’t have to deserve the gift of compassion. Heeding her friends’ messages made Kade feel less alone in the empty room.
“I forgive you,” she said to her reflection.
I love you was on its heels, but as the wor
ds streamed by her mind, she let them scurry away. She wasn’t ready yet. Instead, she took a deep breath and repeated, “I forgive you.”
It was a start.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Kade was anxious. She was about to give the pitch of her life. But a PowerPoint presentation wouldn’t accompany this one. She’d be speaking from her heart, which wasn’t her strong suit. Trying to persuade Jen to sign up with Time Honored Ventures was a work-related task, the likes of which she could perform handily. But it was something else entirely to convince her to forgive Kade and risk getting hurt again. Kade had to try.
She hadn’t informed Holly of her forthcoming meeting because she didn’t want to add to her already sky-high performance anxiety, something she never experienced at work. Holly would want to provide suggestions of what to say, and Kade wanted to succeed or fail in her own words. In an utterly gutless move too embarrassing to think about, however, Kade had scheduled Holly to drop by THV’s temporary office shortly, a backup plan in case things with Jen nosedived.
“Come in,” she said at the knock on her door. She’d left it open wide enough for Jen to enter, an attempt to avoid any awkwardness between them if forced to pass each other closely. But awkwardness reigned regardless, as she stood in the middle of the loft, unsure of how to greet Jen. Jen’s exquisite blue eyes had a smile in them, mixed with caution.
“Hi,” Jen said, taking extra time to roll the heavy door closed as if unsure how to proceed. While Jen took in the new office space, Kade studied her. Her hair was in a French braid, and she wore a black blazer over a white blouse tucked into faded low-rise jeans. Black mid-heel boots completed the outfit. It was quintessential Jen—very girl-next-door who doesn’t realize how pretty she is even in casual clothes. Kade’s desire to embrace her was nearly overpowering, and it took all her self-control not to surrender to it.
“Something to drink? Coffee? Water?” Kade asked.
Jen spied the nearby hooks and hung her purse. “Water, please,” she said, still taking in her surroundings. “This is really great, Kade. I love the high ceilings and industrial feel with the exposed pipes and beams.” She followed Kade and stopped at the border to the kitchen. “Very un-VC-ish.” An unspoken question permeated her tone.
As Kade pulled two water bottles from the refrigerator, she said, “Holly picked it out while we search for a more permanent office, but I like it.” She handed a bottle to Jen, and their gazes held as Jen accepted it. Kade wanted to push all talk of work aside and get lost in those dazzling blue pools. Instead she said, “You wished to talk about the term sheet?”
Jen’s expression shuttered, and she crossed the room to the far couch. “Tell me about Time Honored Ventures.”
Kade schooled her features into business mode as she took a seat on the couch opposite Jen. “Of course. It’s a women-centered firm. We partner with and invest in female entrepreneurs in high tech. We want to set the tone for our portfolio companies to create supportive environments for women to succeed without forcing them to choose career over family.”
“When you say ‘our’ and ‘we,’ who do you mean?”
Kade should have chosen her words more carefully. “Me. My mission. I’m the general partner and am in the process of selecting my limited partners.”
“I imagine you’ve received interest.”
Kade nodded. “I’ve been fortunate. My professional reputation is…” Kade didn’t know quite how to phrase what she was about to say.
“Intact? Formidable?” Jen suggested.
Kade shook her head. “I was going to say, ‘stronger than my personal one,’ but since no one knows that better than you, it seemed moot.”
Jen shifted, as if uncomfortable with Kade’s admission. “Given your professional reputation, why would you think I’d be interested in taking an investment from you if you won’t be on my board or an active partner on my business?”
Kade spun the water bottle in her hands as if it could distract them both from the elephant in the room, her betrayal of Jen’s trust. Eye contact was the norm in her work dealings, but she couldn’t seem to meet Jen’s gaze. In a low voice, she said, “I don’t want you to feel I’m forcing you to work with me or make you uncomfortable in any way.”
“I have other offers. In large part, thanks to you. I’m not being forced. But for the record, I’m not signing your term sheet unless you’re my partner.”
Kade stared at Jen. At least Jen had the wherewithal to understand her double entendre. Much to Kade’s disappointment, but not surprise, Jen backpedaled. “On the Creative Care team.”
“I’m sorry. That’s not the offer.”
This stance seemed to confuse Jen, as Kade anticipated. Jen said, “It’s a simple change.”
Whether she was ready for this conversation or not, its time had arrived. Kade stood and began pacing behind the couch, miffed at herself for creating even more of a barricade than the coffee table offered. If anything, she should be on her knees, taking Jen’s hand in hers, pleading. Yet terrified that Jen might walk away permanently, Kade opted for the extra wall of defense.
“I’ve learned a lot about myself these past few weeks. As I’ve worked with a man I haven’t liked for the better part of my life, I’ve come to believe even he should be surrounded by things that make him happy. And it dawned on me I’ve been surrounding myself with things that don’t make me happy. I also realized it’s his home, not a place where he’s gone to die, but to live.
“From the moment we met, you reminded me of Cassie. It wasn’t merely your physical resemblance. It was how you lived. Live. I’ve been so scared of hurting the people I love. Debilitatingly so. And as you’ve pointed out, I hurt them anyway.”
“Kade, I was wrong to say that to you.”
Kade hadn’t brought it up for Jen to berate herself. “No. No.” Kade didn’t opt for barriers anymore. She crossed to the couch Jen occupied and sat beside her, taking her hands.
“I don’t want to bide my time. Cassie didn’t. You don’t. I want to live. Fully live.” She squeezed Jen’s hands. “The only way for me to do that is reward myself with what makes me happy instead of punish myself with what doesn’t. If Cassie were alive, I could never keep myself away from her because I might hurt her.” Kade took an anxious breath. “The same is true with you. You make me happy, and I like who I am when I’m with you. You make me feel alive in ways I haven’t allowed myself to feel since Cassie died. And you’ve taught me to hope…” Kade’s voice cracked on the word so full of promise yet seemingly beyond reach. “You’ve taught me to hope that if a man like my father shouldn’t be deprived of love or comfort, then even a woman like me, with all my faults and fears, deserves no less.”
Kade raised her chin in defiance of all the self-doubts and reasons she didn’t merit what she was about to say. She swallowed the lump in her throat, met Jen’s eyes, and said what she hoped Jen still wanted to hear, what she was trying her best to believe.
“I deserve to be loved.”
A perfidious tear belied her statement yet found a kindred soul in Jen’s suddenly watery eyes. Kade tried to speak with conviction, but she only repeated quietly, “I deserve to be loved. The only way I’ll be your partner is in the complete sense. The wake-up-with-me-in-the-morning, fall-asleep-with-me-at-night version. I will hurt you, Jen, but never with malice and never without trying to make it up to you. And you’ll hurt me.”
Kade brushed a tear from Jen’s cheek and offered a tiny smile. “Though I hope to God it’s not right now, because it would be a really bad time for you to do it.”
Jen laughed despite crying, and somehow Kade’s mind registered that Jen hadn’t extricated herself from her grasp. Hope, the elusive optimist, peeked out from her heart’s shadow.
“You haven’t been practicing,” Jen said.
And just like that, the same brain that cataloged Jen’s touch failed to follow Jen’s train of thought.
“The homework I gave you.” Jen leaned forwa
rd until she was close enough that Kade could feel her breath against her cheek. It felt like coming home on a snowy night and snuggling into cozy blankets in front of a roaring fire. “Say it again,” Jen said.
“I deserve to be loved.” Kade noticed some strength return to her voice.
“Say it the way you mean it.”
Jen hadn’t forgotten what Kade uniquely wanted, and she was granting Kade permission to seize it. Nearly overwhelmed with an optimism she’d never before experienced, Kade said, “I deserve to be loved by you.”
“Yes, you do,” Jen said before capturing Kade’s lips with her own.
* * *
As they kissed and talked and basked in each other’s company, Kade’s phone played the notes of Holly’s ringtone, interrupting their reconnection. “I have to get this.” She kissed the back of Jen’s hand and grabbed her phone. “Come on up,” she said into the device. She returned to Jen and gave her a quick kiss. “It’s Holly. She doesn’t know you’re here. Do you mind if I tell her about us?”
“Not at all.”
“Although she has eyes in the back of her head, I have a surprise for her even she won’t see coming.”
The heavy door rolled aside, and Holly walked in. She smiled as she spied them on the couch. “I’m sorry. Can someone kindly direct me to the venture-capital firm nearby? It has a distinctly dour vibe, not this…” She circled her palm in their direction. “Jubilant, happy one.”
Kade couldn’t stop grinning. “Creative Care has a new investor. And I have a new…” Kade turned to Jen.
“Partner,” she and Jen said concurrently.
Holly stood across from them and looked at her watch. “As much as I love that you’re making your own appointments now, I thought we were meeting about Time Honored Ventures.” She placed her hand next to her mouth, pretending to block Kade from seeing her lips move, and mouthed to Jen the words, “Hate that name.” She waved her hand to indicate the two of them. “But seeing as how you two have better things to do than talk shop, I’ll be on my way.”
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