“What, exactly, father?” she asked, losing a bit of her own calm, as if she sensed that things may not completely go her way for once.
“Gamble. Casinos. That’s what we’ll do.” He clapped his hands, suddenly very excited. I bit my tongue, waiting to see what had made him so very happy about the situation that would literally ruin my life. “Miss Lund, how do you feel about a little friendly competition?”
“Um,” I said, caught off guard when he addressed me so suddenly. “I, uh, welcome the challenge.” I didn’t quite make it sound like a question, but it was close.
“Excellent. This is what we will do then. Pennington Hotels is getting ready to launch into the casino business. Namely, we are opening two casino hotels, one in Las Vegas and one in Atlantic City. Since it has become so…difficult to choose between you and Toddrick for the Vice President position, we will have a little contest, a duel of sorts. Both you and Toddrick will spearhead a launch for one of the new locations. I’m talking entirely new campaigns, from the ground up. We want social media, grand opening parties, galas, celebrity appearances, the whole thing.”
Was this really happening? I had led my own campaigns before, but nothing of this scale. I was already compiling ideas in my head. Sleek and classy, The Pennington Hotel would showcase the very best that Las Vegas could offer. It would be like Sex and the City meets Vegas Showgirl. This could work. I could still earn this position, and it would have nothing to do with nepotism.
“Father, do you really think this is the way to go?” Constance was clasping her hands on the table in front of her, knuckles white, likely to keep herself from clawing my eyes out. I smiled at her, my grin stretching from ear to ear.
There was no way Toddrick would run a better campaign than I would. The man was two cards short of a full deck. I huffed out a laugh at my own casino reference.
“Yes, Connie, I absolutely do.”
“Father, the board will never go for this.”
“You let me handle the board. Now, do you have any reason why you can’t participate, Toddrick?”
We all looked at him, waiting for a full fifteen seconds before he finally finished what he was looking at and raised his head. His red rimmed eyes blinked at his wife, then he slowly turned to look at Harold. “You said Vegas, right?” He actually looked excited about the prospect, though likely not for the same reasons I was.
“No,” Constance cut in. “You can’t go to Las Vegas. I need you closer to home. You will run the Atlantic City campaign. I am chairing the gala fundraiser for the animal shelter in a few weeks, and another for the Save the Seas Fund shortly after that. I won’t have you halfway across the country and unable to attend my benefits. The animals need our support, Toddrick.”
Please. The only animals Constance cared about were the ones used to make her shoes.
Toddrick deflated a little, then shrugged and went back to his phone with another sniff. I could practically hear Constance grinding her teeth.
“Well, then,” Harold said, standing and moving toward the door. “I will have the packages and guidelines drawn up by the legal department by the end of the week. You will each have four months to complete your campaign. Who ever has the best launch will become the new Vice President of Marketing for Pennington Hotels.” I beamed at him, matching his warm smile with one of my own this time.
“Pack your bags, Miss Lund. You’re going to Las Vegas.”
CHAPTER TWO
Penelope
“You’re going to Las Vegas?”
My mother stared at me in shock. Really, she had every right to be surprised. I hadn’t ever been away from the east coast, barely venturing farther west than the Pennsylvania boarder. Honestly, it was as shocking to me as it was to her. Not to mention a little bit overwhelming.
I sat at the kitchen table in our small townhouse in Woodside, Queens, the same one we had lived in for my entire life. My parents purchased it shortly after they were married, because of its close proximity to the Woodside Community School, and they had never left. My mom hadn’t even considered moving when we lost dad. Even now, after everything, my mother was still happier living here, saying that it was the place that held her best memories.
That was one of the reasons I still lived with her. Aside from the fact that real estate in New York was astronomically out of reach for just about everyone, mom and I shared the bills on this place. It was only a twenty-minute ride on the train to get to work, and a thirty-minute walk for mom to get to her job at Mount Sinai hospital. If the weather was bad, she took the bus, but she tried to walk as often as she could because she said it was good for her heart.
“It’s only going to be for four months, Mom, and I’ll still pay my share of the bills while I’m gone.”
She waved me off. “You know that’s not what I’m worried about.”
But she was, even though she’d never admit it.
When dad got sick, the bills were coming in fast. They piled up and before we knew it, mom was taking a second mortgage out on the house. It kept on that way and when dad died just after I turned eleven, we were drowning. Mom had taken so much time off her own job to care for him that we were barely able to keep the lights on. I had no idea at the time because I wasn’t old enough to understand the true significance of what was happening; I just knew that mom spent her nights crying in her room, and that we were eating more and more ramen noodles.
By the time I graduated high school I was working an after-school job and a weekend job. I somehow still managed to pull down excellent grades, likely due to my complete lack of social life, and I earned a full ride scholarship to NYU. Mom was elated and told me how proud she was of me, but I could see the relief flood her system when that acceptance letter came in the mail.
Again, I didn’t mind. Mom and I were a team. She would never have left me to fight on my own, so there was no way I was ever going to leave her. That was why I still lived at home. Even if I could afford a place of my own, I knew my mom needed me, and I would never let her down.
“It will be worth it in the end, Mom. I’ll earn the VP position and start making enough money to really make a dent in things.” The amount of medical bills we were still trying to pay off was insane. Fifteen years after his death, and we still hadn’t gotten very far. There were over one hundred million people in this country in the same boat we were, paying bills for a person who had long since passed away, or avoiding seeking medical treatment because they simply couldn’t afford it. It was criminal, really.
That was why I couldn’t let Toddrick and Constance mess this up for me. We needed the money to get out from under the black cloud that had been following us for the last fifteen years. I wanted to be able to help my mom retire, or at least reduce her hours. She deserved a break and I wanted to give one to her, Toddrick be damned.
“When do you have to leave?” she asked, already moving from worry mode to planning mode. She would work with me to get packed, ensuring I had everything I would need to make a good impression and do my job well.
“The contracts were presented and signed today,” I said. “My flight is Monday morning.” I had waited to tell her what was going on until I could be certain that it was really happening. Harold had again called me up to his private penthouse boardroom this afternoon, along with Toddrick and his ever-present shadow, Constance. We had gone over the terms and conditions of the challenge, reviewing budget constraints and staffing. Both hotels were currently under construction, their designs were each different, but top secret and awaiting the new marketing campaigns for the big reveals. We wouldn’t even know what we were working with until we arrived on site.
After the contracts had all been signed and everything was official, Harold pulled me aside and informed me that he would like me to stay at his personal home in a community on the far west side of Las Vegas called Summerlin South.
“Really, Mr. Pennington, that’s a very generous offer, but not necessary. I’d be happy to stay in one of the rooms at
the hotel.”
“Please, Miss Lund. I insist. None of the rooms at the Las Vegas property are ready to be lived in, and I just can’t stomach the thought of giving money to any of our competitors until they are.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.
“Well,” I said laughing. “In the name of supporting Pennington Hotels, then I guess I accept.”
“Good. Good,” he replied, then paused. “There is one more thing. You will have a roommate in Summerlin, if that’s not too much trouble.”
“Oh,” I said cautiously. “Who?”
“Oh, just my kid,” he said with a wave. “Nothing to worry about, truly. The house is quite large. Eight bedrooms. You two probably won’t even notice each other.”
It made sense, I guessed, with Daphne going to school in Nevada, that she would be making use of her family home in the area. I remembered seeing what the dorm rooms looked like on campus when I was in school. I would have spent as much time in a mansion as I could have, too.
Plus, it might be nice to not be alone. If Daphne was familiar with the area, perhaps she and I could hang out a time or two.
“That will be no problem, Mr. Pennington. No problem at all.”
So now I sat, looking into my mother’s watery eyes as she processed the fact that we had just over forty-eight hours left together before I would be traveling half way across the country. It would be my first time on a plane, and the first time I had been away from my mother for longer than a sleepover in my entire life.
Some may have seen that as pathetic, but mom and I shared such a close bond that it was completely natural for us. We had needed to lean on each other so heavily in the past that it almost seemed like we were joined at the hip.
“Okay. Monday. Of course,” she said, putting on a brave face. “Then I guess we had better get started.”
We spent all of Friday night doing laundry, washing what meager work clothes I owned, and then most of Saturday was spent on our mending and alterations. Mom and I almost always had a pile of clothes waiting for a bit of inspiration. We were chronic thrift shop junkies, stopping in at our favorites on a regular basis to scour the bins for treasures. I liked to stop at a few in the city when I could as well. There were often designer pieces to be found if you looked hard enough. Some rich lady who couldn’t imagine wearing a blazer for longer than a single season, or some boots that were must-haves last year, but were quickly forgotten in the whirlwind that was the New York Fashion scene. It benefited me well enough.
Mom made my favorite dish for dinner, lasagna, and we sat side by side on the couch, stuffing our faces and watching The Bachelor while we added embellishments to a power suit mom had brought home after Christmas. We guessed someone had gotten a new one from Santa, so this one, practically new, was up for grabs. Mom was patiently stitching some delicate lace around the hem of the skirt, trying to add a little modesty for my overly-long legs.
At a commercial break, I worked up the nerve to say the thing that had been on my mind since Friday afternoon.
“I’m going to see Dad tomorrow,” I said quietly, watching my mother’s breath stall in her chest. “I want to make sure I say goodbye.”
Putting down her sewing, she reached over and squeezed my hand. “I think he’d like that very much.”
Sunday morning mom went to church as usual. I hadn’t joined her in a very long time, and while at first she was upset by that, she now understood that I couldn’t bring myself to talk to a god who had let the things that happened to my dad, and so many others, continue.
Wearing an over-sized hoodie, my hands stuffed deep in the front pockets, and a knit hat to protect against the biting winter wind, I walked slowly between the rows of headstones at St. Michael’s Cemetery, taking my time, savoring the quiet. The snow had been cleared from the roadways but was still several inches deep at the grave sites. Making my way to where I knew my father was laid to rest, my eyes ran over the names on the other grave-markers, familiar to me after so many days spent here since dad had died. As I walked the same road the funeral procession had followed that day, dozens of my father’s uniformed colleagues from the NYPD following behind my mother and me, I could see it all again in my head. Row upon row of men and women, their dress uniforms pressed to perfection, the white gloves on their hands standing out in stark relief against the dark blue they each wore. The flag draped coffin being carried by six of my dad’s closest friends from the department. The flag they folded so very carefully before handing it to my mom. But most of all I remember the silence. The absolute and soul crushing silence that hung over the cemetery as they lowered my father into the ground.
That same silence hung over me now, the low gray sky of winter hovering like an oppressive blanket, pressing against the snow covered ground, making me feel as if that pressure was a physical thing, constricting my lungs and making it hard to breathe. I clutched my hands into fists in my hoodie pockets, feeling my nails pressing crescents into my palms, the slight pain grounding me and bringing me back to the moment.
When I reached the appropriate row, I stepped off the road and into the snow, lifting my booted feet high over the drifts as I made my way to my father. Stopping in front of his grave, the dark granite looking harsh against the fresh white show, I closed my eyes as my heart squeezed in my chest. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes again and smiled down at his name, Frederick Lund.
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, swiping at the single tear that moved down my cheek. “How are things? Mom and I are good, but you probably already know that.” I knelt down in the snow, heedless of the cold that started soaking into my jeans, and used my hands to clear some of the snow away from his marker. I dug down until I could see the engraved shield with his badge number on it in the lower left corner. “I’ve got some big things happening right now work wise,” I continued, carrying on a one-sided conversation as I always did, talking to him as if he was right here with me. I liked to think he might be. I went on for some time, talking about the competition, the position, and how Toddrick and Constance were standing in my way. “Oh, Dad, she is simply awful. Exactly how you’d expect her to be. I know. I know,” I said, already hearing my father’s voice in my head, telling me not to be so judgmental, that everyone had their own obstacles to face, and that maybe Constance was struggling just like the rest of us. “But she makes it so hard to try to be understanding, dad. She’s like a lemon in a basket of peaches. Sour for the sake of being sour.”
I laughed, thinking of how my dad would have made a face, pretending he was sucking a lemon, and how, in my head, it looked a lot like the pinched look Constance had given me the other day. Taking a breath, I continued. “I really want this, Daddy. I want this so bad. For Mom, of course, but for myself, too. I want to prove that I can, you know? That all my hard work, all my studying and sacrificing and effort actually means something. That my struggle can count for something against people like Toddrick, who get ahead, not because they earned it, but because they are related to the right people. It has to count, Daddy. Other wise, what were all our sacrifices for?”
I was quiet for a time, thinking of all the hours mom and I worked, all the pennies we saved, trying to keep our heads above water. There was absolutely no way I could let someone like Constance, who had never had to go without a day in her life, take this from me simply because she felt she could.
“Anyway,” I continued, shaking off my heavy thoughts. “I have to leave town for a bit, so I won’t be by to visit. But look after Mom while I’m away, okay? Don’t let her feel lonely. I think, I mean I hope, that she will use this time to do some things for herself for a change. She deserves it.”
Standing, I brushed the snow off my now very damp knees. Running my fingers along the top of the gravestone one more time, I kissed their tips and pressed them to his name. “Love you, Daddy. Always.”
* * * *
Monday morning arrived in a flurry of chaos. I was supposed to be at the hotel in Las Vegas for a project meeting at two, Nevada time. H
arold's silent receptionist, who I had learned went by the predictably insufferable name of Angelique, had emailed me my flight information. I was on a six a.m. flight out of JFK, which meant that my alarm was set to go off at three a.m. So when my door flew open at a quarter to four, my mother flying in wearing her house coat and shrieking about me being late, I was in complete panic mode.
Skipping my preferred scalding hot morning shower in favor of a quick face wash and an extra swipe of deodorant, I slid into my best skinny jeans and a white button-up blouse, hurrying through my usual routine at warp speed. Forgoing make up and slapping on a layer of chap stick, I tossed my hair back into my usual bun and raced out of my room to find my mother near the door where she was arranging my suitcase and carry-on bag for me.
“I had hoped we would have time for a coffee before you had to go, but when has our life ever gone how we planned, hey my girl?” she said with a wry smile. I reached out and wrapped my arms around her, squeezing for all I was worth. “You go kick some serious butt, okay, Penelope? You got this in the bag!”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll call you every day, I promise.”
“Oh, pish posh,” she said, surreptitiously wiping her eyes. “You will do no such thing. This is an incredible opportunity for you, Penelope. I want you to live it up out there in Sin City! Go to a club. See a show. Maybe even meet a man.”
“Mom, no,” I said, rolling my eyes. I had spent next to no time worried about boys in school, and even less since I had started working. I’d had boyfriends, of course, but nothing that I would qualify as a serious relationship. When your whole life was spent with a single goal in mind, namely staying out of bankruptcy, there was no space left to think of things as trivial as dating. “I will not be wasting any time on…that!”
“That is love, Penelope. That is something you won’t even realize you are missing until you find it. Don’t be so quick to dismiss its importance.”
The Cowboy and the Bombshell Page 2