The Girl He Wants

by Kristi Rose

  I fold the tissue over my index finger and tab again at the endless stream.

  Tears of joy, right? Perhaps some of fear.

  “Are you ready, Ms. Grandberry?” the loan officer asks. She’s a nice looking lady. One who would likely shop at my store. Not overdone like the one in Miami, this one is softer, more pastels and kindness.

  Maybe it’s because she’s giving me what I want and not lowering the boom of bad news.

  I nod, unable to force words past the constriction of my throat. Clutched in my other fist is the stupid fortune cookie that started this entire display.

  You will soon have an out of money experience, it reads, and I can’t help but feel that it’s likely the most accurate fortune I’ve had. Ever.

  “We’ll begin by signing the agreement between you and your partner so that you can then purchase the building.”

  I nod. A mute to the end.

  My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. I tucked it there when I made the dash to the loo to bawl my eyes out.

  I try to ignore it.

  It buzzes again and lacking any and all willpower, I try to covertly pull it from my pocket while listening intently as the lady goes over all the papers and the terms. Davis hovers to my right.

  A text from Paisley: UR a lifesaver. Those snapshot pics of dresses you made me saved my ass. I love u.

  I texted back a question mark because I honestly can’t remember if she had an event that required a gown this weekend.

  Paisley answers: Semi-formal event with his boss, an Admiral. Last minute. I was trying to call you when I saw the text pictures and knew what to do. U da best! ;-)

  Lady Loan Officer continues to review the terms, this time about my budget and quarterlies.

  “I offer a service that provides customers with a snapshot of outfit ideas. Combinations they can use when they find themselves in a pinch,” I say this more for myself than for them.

  “I beg your pardon?” She’s so nice to stop and though she’s casting fleeting glances at Davis, she’s not looking at me like I’m barmy.

  “Do you think that’s something people would like? Snapshots on hand to help them decide what to wear each day or for those occasions like first dates or formal events?”

  Paisley texts me a picture of her and Hank leaning against the wood railing of a pier, her navy blue bridesmaid dress looking less like what it was intentionally purchased for and more like a cocktail gown with the thin silver metal scarf I’d convinced her to buy as an accessory. Her arm is decorated with several bangle bracelets. She pulled it off precisely as I told her to and she looks stunning.

  “Ah, actually.” Loan Lady looks again from Davis to me before she continues in a lowered voice. “I know I would love something like that. Some days I can’t bother to think about what to wear, much less be creative. Kinda like planning dinner for a family. Sometimes the guesswork needs to be taken out.”

  “Like takeaway. Each Thursday is shrimp korma but sometimes you need someone to tell you to try the daily special.” I dab at my eye but there’s nothing but dryness there.

  “Yes.” She nods for further emphasis.

  “I could do that.” I run it through my mind, the ways I could make it work. According to Stacy, my recent boost of income has come from this entirely. Imagine if I put my wits to it and came up with something brilliant, which could be tricky.

  “You could offer a website that shows combinations. A virtual closet if you will, where people can go to search out options based on what they have in their closet. That would be something. A dream, really.” She sighs wistfully.

  As do I.

  Hang on. Why can’t I do that? Surely, Josie, if not Brinn, has to know an IT person who could help me make this happen.

  “Let’s keep moving forward, shall we?” Davis says over my shoulder.

  Loan Lady and I make eye contact and I know she knows I need a moment.

  “Let me get a glass of water and then we’ll continue,” she says before rising and quietly leaving the room.

  I text Paisley: Would you pay for this service? To have the photos?

  I’d pay 1 million dollars.

  Seriously?

  Sure, especially if it were a subscription service. That I could add to and change. You bet.

  I swallow. I need a moment to clear my head. I need to talk it out and see if it’s more than a pipe dream. If it has the potential I think it does. I stare at my screen, knowing the one person I want to be my sounding board is Stacy. The one person not taking my calls.

  “All right. Are we continuing?” Loan Lady, her tag says Clara, comes back into the room and resumes her place before me. She gives me an inquiring look.

  “Er—”

  My phone chimes and I’m caught off guard when I see Stacy’s name come across the screen. I jump from my seat.

  “I have to take this. Excuse me.” I rush from the room, catching the last bit of Davis’s exasperated sigh. I find a quiet space back toward the loo, answering the phone as I make my way there.

  “Hallo?” I hate that I sound breathless.

  “Jayne.” It’s Cordie.

  My hope and heart deflate like a punctured balloon. Then I move into worry.

  “Cordie, love. Is something the matter?” It could be a number of things and I can’t seem to grab onto one that I could live with.

  “Your cat, what’s her name?” She sounds a wee bit panicky.

  “I don’t have a cat.” I softly kick my toe into the wood paneling of the bank wall.

  “Yes you do. The one you feed by your shrub. What do you call her?” There’s a faint mewing in the background.

  “Well, mostly arsehole. Wait! Don’t tell your dad I said that. I’ve tried several names but he doesn’t answer to any.” There’s a small nick in the panel and I pick it with my finger, running my nail into the groove, making it deeper.

  “That’s because he’s a she and she’s at your door with her mouth full of kitten trying to get you to open the door. Dad and I have been trying to get her to come to our place but she gets real hissy when we get close.”

  “A kitten, you say?” I try to recall how the cat looked last time I saw him—er, her.

  “Who wants in your house,” Cordie repeats.

  “Right. Well, there is a key in the light. If you unscrew the bottom, it should fall out. That is if Pippa ever put it back.” I wait while Cordie relays the info. “So, your dad’s there helping?” I ask without an ounce of self-respect.

  “We found the key, hold on. Dad’s opening the door.”

  “Tell your dad to put a bowl of milk and water down and that there is cat food in my garage.” I’ve made the groove an inch longer. I know it would be going too far for me to ask her how her dad’s been. But darn if I don’t want to.

  There’s some exchange of words between them and Stacy’s voice fades away. He must be walking to the garage. I try to picture the state of my apartment. The impression that it’s giving him. Yes, I’ve been moony for him. Lonely. Likely I left several empty cupcake wrappers on my table. At least there are no penned and abandoned love letters scattered across the floor.

  “The cat’s put her baby on your robe.”

  “My robe?” Ah, yes. I’d spent a fair amount of time slouching around in my robe, staring out the window across the lot. I shed it there, by my couch and window at the last minute where I also dressed for this trip. Because heaven forbid I go to my room and be out of sightline of Stacy’s house.

  Bloody hell, I’ve become a stalker.

  “Yeah, she’s tucked her kitten into it and then went back to the door so I let her out.”

  “She just left her baby on my robe?” Cat really is an arsehole.

  “This kitten is too little to be alone. What should I do?” I can hear Cordie worry her hands through the phone.

  “I dunno, love. If she’s abandoned her then you can take her home. Talk to your dad. Is the kitte
n cute?”

  “So cute, Jayne. So cute. Hold on, I’ll take a pic.” There’s some quick fumbling and seconds later a photo comes across my screen of the cutest brown tabby kitten I’ve laid eyes on.

  “Oh, she’s coming back,” Cordie says. There’s a vibration of excitement in her voice.

  “What. What’s happening?” I stop working the groove and begin turning my earring.

  “She’s bringing another kitty. Oh, so cute. Like the other.” Cordie sighs with delight. “She’s dropped this one and left again. I wonder how many there are?”

  Turns out the answer is four. Three brown tabbies and an orange one. A saucy ginger, I’m thinking.

  “Dad says that because she chose you and won’t let us near them we’re going to leave them here. We’ll go get a litter box—” I hear Stacy tell her that they’ll also get some piddle pads, as that’s likely where they’ll go. “We’ll stop by and check them every few hours. Until you get home.”

  I glance at my watch. “I’m on the first flight back,” I tell her. “Listen, Cordie. These kitties will need a home when the time comes. So don’t get too attached.”

  “Too late.” She sighs with adoration. “We’ll see you later.”

  “Okay.” We disconnect and it doesn’t escape my attention that Stacy and I did not talk once, that his daughter was our intermediary.

  But I’m not devastated, wasted on the floor like I was a few hours earlier. Something wonderful has shifted inside me.

  I text Pippa a picture of the kittens with the added text: Look at who’s come to live with me!

  She responds with: Love rewards the brave. She couldn’t have picked a better place to find shelter. Buy her good food. Not junk!

  I toss back my head and laugh. Of course Pippa would be worried about a cat’s diet. Bless my cousin, who always sought shelter at my place at the times I needed her the most.

  I kick the paneling one more time, this time more in thought than uncertainty. Holding my phone close to my chest, I decide what needs to be done and there’s no second guessing my decision. It’s right. Feels right.

  With a sure foot, I return to Davis and Loan La—Clara. “Er, I’m so sorry. But I must leave.”

  Clara stands. “Is everything okay?”

  I rush to the chair where I was sitting and weeping only moments before. “Yes, it’s fabulous.” I turn to Davis. “I’m so sorry, Davis. This isn’t going to happen. This is not right. What I mean is that it’s not right for me.”

  “You’ll lose your escrow monies.” He crosses his arms over his chest and I see it all. See how foolish I’ve been, how this man would have made the cut per my list only to find he’s more a Wickham at heart. Yet Stacy wouldn’t have even had a chance because he has a child. I’m a mad bitch. At least I can try to right my wrongs.

  “I’m aware of that, but I’d rather lose that than everything else that’s at stake. I really am truly sorry.” I grip his forearm but he doesn’t move. He’s an alabaster statue of disappointment. I’m about to apologize again but I stop myself. There’s nothing more to be said.

  “I’m sorry for all your wasted work, Clara.” I pick up her business card. “But I think I’m going to go in a different direction.” I slightly wave her card before I tuck it in my handbag. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Please do.” She extends her hand. “Good luck.” We shake hands, not the typical brief clasp but an excited pumping of energy before I dash out the door. Moments later I’m in my rental car driving toward the airport and opportunity.

  Chapter 34

  I lucked out and caught an earlier flight home. On the short trip I made copious notes plotting my new business idea including a list of questions that needed to be answered before I could move forward.

  The first stop, however, will not be at Josie’s with hopes of her calling in her IT connections, but to Mum’s pub. If I’m going to be all in on this venture then I’d better make sure my family is all in with me, or at the very least, know where I stand with them.

  I don’t go through the back, as is my normal custom, instead entering through the front and assessing the vibe. Mum, understandably stressed, might have brought her troubles to work. I want to know what I might be up against. For the most part, the restaurant is quiet. No slamming doors or crashing dishes. Not that I really expected that, mind you. But these are new and difficult times; one can never assume.

  A waitress is leaning against the bar and waves as I pass. No one scrambles or stumbles when they see me. This is definitely a good sign.

  With trepidation I step into the kitchen, letting the swinging door block most of my body. No one is there. This, perhaps, might not be a good sign.

  “Mum?” I suck up courage and step fully into the room.

  “In the office,” she calls from down the hallway.

  With my shoulders straight I make my way there. She and Jeff are sitting around the desk looking at a large disheveled stack of papers.

  “How’d it go, darling? I’m surprised you’re home so early. I thought you’d still be up there taking pictures of your new building. My daughter, the real estate mogul and shop owner.” She claps her hands together with delight and I try to smile, only it’s an act of forcing my muscles to comply

  “Funny thing that, Mum. When it came to sign the papers I couldn’t do it.” I lean against the doorjamb to steady my nerves and ready myself.

  “What do you mean you couldn’t do it? They weren’t ready or they were wrong? I hope someone reimburses you for going all the way up there and them not being prepared.” She slaps her hand on a stack of papers.

  I glance at Jeff. “Actually, the papers were fine. The problem was me. Opening another shop is not what I want—”

  “Course it is. It’s what you’ve wanted forever.” She looks at Jeff. “How many nights she’d call from university and talk about her grand plan. She had it worked out long before she graduated, my girl.”

  I duck my head and twist the earring in my left ear. “You’re right, Mum. It has been something I’ve focused on for years and because of that I nearly missed out on the opportunity that was right before me. A better opportunity. So I walked away from the deal.” I look at her through my hair, my head ducked not in shame but in apology.

  “What about all that money? The escrow—”

  “I lost it.” I hurriedly hold up my hand. “I know what you’re going to say and yes, I hate losing that much, but better that small amount than so much more over the next few years. Because in my gut I know that would be happening.”

  Mum shakes her head. “What will you do now? Did you even think of a next step?”

  Following a disbelieving snort, I say, “Of course, Mum. But you’re a fine one to talk. Do you have a plan?” I knew this conversation was inevitable. Much like I knew I was moving forward with my dreams for the wrong reason. But denial is a powerful emotion that can trick the mightiest of minds and I’ve never professed to be one of those, that’s for sure.

  “I’m just trying to get through today.” She looks at her pencil and the paper before her.

  “My answer was right in front of my eyes,” I say, shoving off from the jamb and stepping further into the office. “I just had to acknowledge that change was inevitable and that I was going to be better for it. Like you and Dad. Change has come and we need to embrace it.” I kneel before her. “Mum, I love you.”

  “I love you, Jaynie-girl.” She drops her pencil and takes my face between her hands.

  “I’d do anything to make that stupid thermometer all red. Even take on a building and a loan that would have put me in way over my head,” I say, cutting off her protest. “I know you only wanted me to be successful and self-sufficient. But I’m already those things, Mum.”

  “And I’m proud.”

  “I met a man, one I want to keep. More than anything.”

  Startled, Mum sits back, then suddenly is squealing and clapping h
er hands. “That’s wonderful. Wonderful. I’m so happy to hear it. Relieved too.”

  I look between her and Jeff. He’s been around since my folks opened their doors and has witnessed many a set down from Mum about men.

  “What is happening here? When does the idea of me getting domesticated make you happy?”

  “I’ve always wanted you to find someone, luv, but only after you knew you could take care of yourself. And you know that now.”

  “What about my thermometer? About having an article written about my success?”

  “All worthy accomplishments but you’ll want someone to share that with and if you’ve found that person, then hold on to them.” She clasps my hands between her rough ones. “Who is it? Is it that lovely Stacy? He was at the hospital an awful lot.”

  I ask my question to Jeff, who’s been sitting quietly. “Did I get shoved in a Tardis? Is this real?”

  Mum caresses my cheek, pushes back my bangs, then tucks her hands in her lap. “Now we need a plan to get this place sorted. Your Dad can’t come back to this, at least not in the way he was before.”

  I gently scoop her hands in mine and turn them so the bulbous knuckles and scars prominently show. “You can’t keep this pace up either, never mind your hands.”

  “Jeff and I have been in here talking about alternatives.” She pulls her hands from mine and crosses her arms, tucking her hands out of sight.

  Jeff clears his throat. “I offered to buy the pub. It sits on prime land. Doesn’t flood like the beachside and is central to everything.” He rubs the bristle on his chin, before pushing his floppy curls out of his face. Deep, sun-darkened skin, with light blond-streaked curly hair, and a propensity for a quick easy smile, Jeff looks more like he belongs on a surf board and cooking out over an open fire than he does talking to Mum about food deliveries. He can’t be but five years older than me. He looks from between Mum and me.

  I sit back on my haunches. “Bloody hell.”

  “Jayne!”

  “I mean that in a good way. It’s perfect really.” I look to Jeff. “Assuming you don’t tell us your plans, because it will destroy them if you turn this into a surf shop.”