by J. L. Berg
“I want to prove myself to you,” I said, feeling more and more like a child with every word that fell from my lips.
My father was also known for that, too—making everyone around him feel small and insignificant.
I was no exception.
“You do that by hard work and determination, not by taking something that isn’t rightfully yours.”
“How is it not rightfully mine, Dad?” I asked. “How did I not work for it? I’ve been at that company for six years, and not once have you promoted me or even thrown my name into the ring for a project. How long will it take for you to see that I have talent and drive and commitment to this company? A company that will be mine one day, I might add.”
“Not if you keep acting like this!” he roared.
“Let me buy it from you,” I blurted out.
“What?”
“I haven’t spent a cent of my trust fund. I can afford it.”
“You want to buy something from me with money that I gave you?”
Suddenly, the idea seemed ludicrous. This was the real reason I’d never spent any of the money. It wasn’t really mine to begin with. Not really.
Silence fell between us as I stared out onto the crystal-blue water of Silver Lake Harbor and waited for him to calm down.
Finally, I heard him release a breath on the other end as his mind worked to fix the problem I’d created in his life.
God forbid, he had to deal with his daughter from time to time.
If it wasn’t for this little event, he probably wouldn’t have thought of me at all.
Well, until the next time he canceled on me, that was.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he began, a distinct note of authority to his voice. It was the tone he used whenever he was in business meetings or giving a speech. It was also the tone he used when disciplining me. “You will have plans to me in six weeks.”
“Six weeks!” I immediately protested.
“Let me finish,” he demanded, an air of finality in the way he spoke. It was as if God himself was proclaiming the Ten Commandments to Moses.
There was no room for negotiation.
There would be no appeals process.
It was either his way or the highway, and if I wanted my hotel and my big break with my father, I needed to shut up and listen.
“You will have six weeks to produce design plans that are both on budget and generally cohesive with our brand as a company. However, you know we don’t do cookie-cutter hotels, so give it its own distinct flavor that speaks to the location.”
I rolled my eyes.
Keep it the same, but make it different.
Sure, Dad. That makes sense.
“I want names of everyone you plan to hire as well as a list of all materials and where you plan on purchasing. Impress me, Leilani,” he stressed.
I nodded even though I knew he couldn’t see me. My father was nothing if not meticulous. This part I’d expected.
“And, lastly, you must show me that you have the blessing of the town.”
“What?” I said, nearly choking on my own saliva as I remembered my latest conversation with Taylor. “Why?”
“Why? Town approval is crucial to any project—something you’ve obviously never learned.”
No, because you’ve never let me out of the office.
“Without it, they’ll stop you at every corner. They’ll put up a barrier, a wall, an injunction to stop not only your plans, but also your work. It’s a nightmare. So, make nice with the locals, or this project will be shut down before it begins.”
My heart sank. “You’ll shut me down?”
“You have six weeks to wow me, but if I’m not impressed when you present your plans to me at the corporate office, if they aren’t up to par with our incredibly high standards, or if those locals aren’t singing your praises, yes, Leilani, I will shut down this project.”
I was stunned.
I’d thought I’d get a slap on the wrist, a stern talking-to, and that would be the end of it.
Even when he’d said six weeks, I’d figured he meant, you have six weeks to get me design plans.
Not, you have six weeks, and that’s it.
Six weeks to prove yourself.
Six weeks to show you’re worthy of my approval.
“I understand,” I found myself saying.
Because I did understand.
I understood perfectly.
I was just part of the job.
Something to manage, and that was exactly what he’d just done.
“Good. I’ll have Troy send over the particulars, including your budget and everything we just discussed. Good luck.”
And, with that, he hung up.
I was just another problem on his long to-do list, and I’d just been checked off.
“Six weeks,” I whispered.
Six weeks, and I could be rid of Leilani and this whole damn problem.
I smiled widely and thanked my impeccable timing and the nature of the wind and how it managed to carry conversations so crisp and clear right over the bay.
Just five minutes ago, I’d been minding my own business, going through my checklist of chores for my afternoon fishing tour when I heard it.
That voice.
It’d crawled up my spine and sent electricity straight to my gut. My back had straightened, and I’d immediately looked around, wondering what I’d done to deserve this kind of punishment twice in one day.
Oh, come on, Taylor. You know you like it, my brain argued.
And that was the root of the problem.
I did like it. I liked her.
Too damn much.
But, as I’d turned around to face my sexy nemesis, I’d found nothing but air. I’d thought for a split second that maybe I was going crazy, that this hot brunette from the Pacific had done such a number on me that I was now imagining her.
But then I’d heard it again.
That sultry voice. But, this time, it hadn’t been so sultry. It had been angry.
No, not angry.
Pissed.
“Six weeks!” I’d heard her shout.
So, like I’d learned in kindergarten, I’d put my listening ears on, and that was when I’d gotten all the sordid details I needed to destroy her. And, now, all I had to do was deliver the good news to my brother.
“You overheard?” Dean said, a bit taken aback. “So, you’re stalking her now? I thought I told you to stay away from this woman!”
I let out a frustrated breath.
I’d breezed into our office with the good news not three minutes earlier, and rather than hugging me with delight and words of thanks, my brother was staring at me like I was a raving lunatic.
“I wasn’t stalking her!” I replied, throwing my hands up in the air. “It’s not my fault she’s a loud talker. Or that she put her father on speaker for important calls.”
His eyebrow rose in suspicion as he leaned back in his chair. “All right, I’ll give you that. But I fail to see how this is going to help us.”
Now, the pacing began. “What? How can you not see this as a victory, Dean? She is on shaky ground with her dad. He gave her six weeks to prove herself. That gives us a month and a half to demolish her.”
Still not convinced, he pressed me further. “And how do we do that?”
“She’s trying to tear down the building, so we have it declared as a historical building. She wants to use a local construction company; we talk them out of it.”
“You’re going to try to talk hard-working people out of a job? A job that could be huge for not only their families, but also their careers?”
I groaned. “You’re not seeing the big picture here. What she does to this hotel, it could affect all of us.”
“No,” he said, rising to his full height. “That part I get. What I don’t think you get is this, Taylor. This monster you’re trying to slay is far bigger than you realize. You cut off one head, and four more grow back.”
&
nbsp; “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that, if you manage to do what you’re saying—you talk construction crews out of working with her, you have the building declared historical—fighting her every step along the way, and her father shakes his head at her little project at the end of that six weeks, it doesn’t mean this is over. Hart International still owns the building. Do you think they’re just going to let it sit around until the end of time?”
“No,” I answered. “But it’s a start.”
“It’s a Band-Aid,” he replied sadly.
“Even her father said they’d have a hell of a time getting shit done without town approval.”
“But did he say it was impossible?”
I didn’t have a comeback for that.
He shook his head, disappointment showing in every creased line on his face. “They’ll just send someone else to finish the job. Maybe Mr. Hart himself. You saw what they did to that hotel up in Corolla? It’s massive now!”
“So, that’s it? You’re just gonna roll over and play dead? Wave your white flag of surrender and let her do whatever the fuck she wants to that hotel and our town?”
He looked over at me, the wheels spinning in his head. “No. I’m going to use you.”
I let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, Dean. You won’t regret this. Seriously. When I have her out of this town, you’ll see—”
He shook his head. “I think you misunderstood me. I don’t want you to sabotage her. I want you to work with her—on behalf of the town. You said you overheard her father say that she needed the town’s approval.”
“Right,” I said, my voice wary.
“Then, I’m appointing you as the official go-between to make that happen. I’ll need to run it past the other members of the building and planning committee, but when I let them know how well you two have already hit it off, well, I don’t think anyone will mind.”
“What?!” I was dumbfounded.
“We won’t solve this problem with backhanded tactics or lies. We will solve it by joining forces and compromising.”
“Compromising?” I hissed. “You want us to compromise?”
“If it means the difference between middle ground or completely losing control, then yes, I’m all for compromise. This town has always been welcoming of newcomers. I don’t see why we can’t do the same for Leilani Hart.”
“But she’s not a newcomer looking for a house to rent, Dean. She’s a multimillionaire, hoping to take over a huge chunk of the marina.”
“So, let’s make her one of our own,” he suggested. “Make her understand why we are the way we are, why we love this place, and why we protect it.”
“And is this a demand or a request?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“We’re not kids anymore, Taylor. I can’t demand anything of you—unless it is business-related, and in that regard, it’s always been the other way around. You’ve always had a handle on this business, more so than me.”
“Damn straight,” I muttered.
“It’s a request,” he clarified. “But one I think you should take.”
“And why is that?”
“That woman has been in Ocracoke for twenty-four hours. She’s spoken to no one, yet you’ve managed to run into her on numerous occasions. You can’t seem to stay away.”
I swallowed hard.
“Don’t you want to find out why?”
“So, let me get this straight,” Millie began while waving a large cutting knife in the air. “You overheard this woman—a woman who, by the way, you were supposed to avoid but didn’t—and now, you’ve got some evil plot to overthrow her?”
I shrugged, wincing a little when I smelled something possibly burning in the oven. After being told very sternly by my brother just how this all was going to go, I’d sought out the only voice of reason on this blasted island.
Millie.
She’d, of course, immediately invited me over for dinner. It was a kind gesture, and it gave me the opportunity to get to know Aiden better, but the idea of Millie in the kitchen…
I still remembered By the Bay overflowing with smoke after several of her cooking incidents years ago. She definitely did not inherit that particular gift from her mother, like her sister had, but I appreciated the effort.
And, after the day I’d had, I could use a friend’s good nature.
Even if it involved Millie and a kitchen full of hazards.
“Basically,” I answered. “But I’m doing Dean and everyone else a favor, and once she’s out of here, he’ll see just how right I was.”
Aiden, who had been observing our conversation but had yet to participate, finally decided to chime in. “But he does have a point, doesn’t he? Your brother? Even if you run her out, which I’m all for—I didn’t move out of one big city to watch another spring up in its place—but say you do—drive her out, I mean—how do you know someone else won’t show up days later, ready to take her place? She’s just one of a thousand staff members. Hart International is huge. Their resources are vast, limitless even. They have lawyers to back up their lawyers. How can we compete?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But it would give us a little time to figure it out. And isn’t time better than lying down in the middle of the street and giving up?”
A slow, meticulous grin spread across Aiden’s face. “I like your friend, Millie. He’s tenacious.”
Millie rolled her eyes. “He’s impetuous at best. And possibly crazy.”
I eyed the stove one more time. “I’m definitely crazy if I let you continue in the kitchen like this,” I said, hopping off the stool I’d been sitting on for far too long. “Let’s trade places.”
“What?” she exclaimed. “I was the one who invited you over for dinner. You can’t cook it!”
Aiden laughed. “Please cook, Taylor. It would be a nice break from the charcoal diet I’ve been consuming.”
Millie’s eyes jerked over to her husband. “You said you liked my cooking!”
“What else am I supposed to say? I can’t cook anymore! Unless you’d like to eat nothing but Lucky Charms and Cheerios for the rest of your life.”
Her face warmed, and I watched as she cozied herself into his embrace.
“I’d eat your Lucky Charms every day.”
His hand snaked around her rear. “That just might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me, love.”
I turned away before I felt like a Peeping Tom. I heard Millie giggle, and it was one of those ridiculous, high-pitched squeaky laughs that women made when men were doing something highly inappropriate to them in public.
I knew because I’d perfected the move that caused that laugh by my junior year.
“Feeling kind of uncomfortable here!” I called out, my back still facing them.
“Sorry!” Millie blurted out, a couple of more squeals escaping her lips as she jogged back into the kitchen to join me. “Newlyweds, you know? Can’t help it.”
I shook my head, unable to fight returning the infectious grin plastered across her face. “I have a feeling you two will always be newlyweds. You’ll be like that old couple, The McKennons. Remember them from way back?”
“Who are the McKennons? I don’t know that name, and I thought I’d met everyone by now,” Aiden said.
I handed Millie a couple of vegetables to chop for a salad while I tried to recover the chicken she’d tried to char in the oven.
“The McKennons were the cute old couple—we used to make fun of when we were kids,” Millie explained.
“They’d walk hand in hand and kiss on every corner. After a million years together, they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other, and as kids, we naturally found it beyond disgusting,” I added.
“I wonder what happened to them,” Millie said wistfully, making nice, neat piles of carrots for the salad. “I only remember, as a college student, I’d come home and not see them around anymore. But being the busy
, self-involved person I was, I never bothered to ask anyone.”
“The husband got cancer,” I explained. “And, about two weeks after he passed, she did, too.”
“Did she have cancer, too?” Aiden asked.
“No,” I replied. “My mom said she died of a broken heart.”
A sad sort of smile took over Millie’s features. “Your mom would know.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, thinking of my father for the first time in a while. “I guess she would.”
“I want to be like that dirty old couple when we grow old,” Millie said, returning to Aiden.
This time, instead of heat and passion, there was a quiet stillness between them. He pulled her onto his lap, both of them perched on the kitchen stool like a single unit.
“You want to die of a broken heart?” I asked, making the final touches on the chicken salad I’d thrown together.
“No,” she explained. “No one wants that. I want a love that endures the test of time. A love that lasts forever.”
“You have it,” Aiden vowed.
And I turned away once again.
Not because I was jealous or hateful or even embarrassed.
No, I turned away so they wouldn’t see the doubt in my eyes.
Nothing lasted forever. Especially love.
I had a dead father to prove it.
After leaving Millie and Aiden’s house, I went home and spent the majority of the night planning the next day.
My brother might have asked me to reach out to Leilani on behalf of the town, but it didn’t mean I had to do it his way.
On the outside, I’d be cordial and a fucking bishop for change, but on the inside, I’d be figuring out any way possible to thwart her and her plans for that hotel.
Before I left Millie’s, she had asked me why I felt so impassioned to take on this mission myself. I’d asked what she meant because, as far as I could see, the fate of our town should impassion all of us.
“I agree,” she said. “But it seems to affect you more than anyone else.”
“That hotel is right next door to me,” I explained.
“Yes, but I’m not that far away either, and honestly, it affects me just the same. You don’t think she hasn’t considered having an upscale gift shop in that fancy hotel?”