CHAPTER TWENTY
I Take It I’m Movin’ In
“I’M TELLING YOU girl, I think it’s perfect,” Martha declared from beside me in my car and she was right. It was perfect. Terrifyingly so.
We’d just come from viewing some space in Writer Square in LoDo. It was fabulous, great foot traffic, sandwiched between 16th Street Mall and Larimer Square, visibility from 15th Street and Larimer, sidewalk seating opportunity.
But the rent was a whack.
I was six months from paying off the business loan I got to open my first location so I knew how much it cost to set up a bakery. Location and setup costs were close to crippling.
One and one were equaling thousands.
It was just under three weeks since Brock suggested Martha be brought in to take the load off. I’d called her and discussed it the next day. She’d jumped at it, no hesitation. She loved the idea. And I knew she loved the idea for, upon sharing it with her, she screamed in my ear, “I frickin’ love that idea!”
She had a good job and her pay was excellent, no way I could match it. But she said she’d take the hit for peace of mind and the opportunity to work close to my cakes. I promised a pay hike once the second location was up and going and turning a profit.
Oh, and of course, free cakes.
Martha put in notice and enrolled in accountancy classes the next day. I bought payroll software. I was going to save on outsourcing those and my business account was super healthy. Therefore, with both, I could easily absorb her additional salary. Not to mention, that freed me up to make more cakes.
Still, my account balance wasn’t so healthy I could start a new location without additional capital, though this wouldn’t be a problem because my bank contacted me approximately one point seven times a month asking if I wanted a further loan. Then again, my loan manager had four kids, a husband, six brothers and sisters, and the offspring they created and they all got birthday cakes from me so she knew I was a viable risk.
But I still needed a getaway with Brock and the boys. I had decided all-inclusive, five-star just because we deserved it. I had also decided I was going to pay for it just because Brock had lawyer bills and a cop’s salary and, unfortunately, he and both of his sons had birthdays all sandwiched in the same week of the same month, this month—February. This was a cruel twist of fate for anyone who had their names on their present list. This was also a perfect excuse for me to take them all on vacation without Brock going macho ape-shit (hopefully).
“And I’m telling you, Martha, I don’t know. The rent is pretty steep,” I told her (again) as I wended my way through Cherry Creek North toward my shop. “Maybe we should look into something on The Mall or lower LoDo around My Brother’s Bar?”
“I get where you’re coming from but that location is Tessa’s Cakes,” she replied. “Already, you’re in Cherry Creek and that isn’t exactly shantytown.”
This was true. My rent for my current bakery was also a whack.
Martha kept going. “The Mall is out. It’s cool but it’s not Tessa’s Cakes. And lower LoDo is awesome but it isn’t established awesome like Writer Square, unless you’re talking about Brother’s or Paris on the Platte, which are only established because they’ve been there yonks. Not to mention, foot traffic is way less. Practically every shop in Writer Square is fabulous and they’ve all been there for years. And they have flair. You’ll fit right in.”
She was right about that, all of it.
Eek!
“Tessa,” she went on and I could tell by her voice she was facing me. I could also tell by her voice she’d hit her “listen to me, I’m being deadly serious” mode. “Your cakes don’t say 16th Street Mall and they don’t say lower LoDo. They say Larimer Square but you’ve nixed that because of the rent so the next best thing is Writer Square. This is perfect, honey. This is you.”
She was right about that too. All of it.
Yikes.
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to hire someone who knew me and understood my vision. Maybe it was scary.
Damn.
Oh well. Nighties and sanity were on the line. And I didn’t hire Martha to do payroll and create schedules. I hired Martha to help me expand and then to look after my vision when I did.
There was nothing for it.
“Okay, call them and tell them we want it.”
“Yee ha!” she shrieked.
Dear God.
I pulled into the parking lot beside my bakery and parked in the spot that had the sign “Reserved for Tessa, you park here, you don’t get cake” on the building in front of it. I switched off the ignition and my phone rang.
Martha, holding my purse in her lap, dug through it, nosily looked at it, and mumbled, “Bad-boy hot guy,” then handed me the phone and started to exit the car, finishing, “I’m gonna go make the call now.”
Then she was gone.
I took Brock’s call.
“Hey.”
“Well?”
He knew I was viewing the location.
“It’s fabulous,” I answered his mostly unasked question.
“And?”
I grinned at my dash.
“My guess is, even though she was exiting my car with great haste while the phone was ringing with this call from you, still, Martha’s right now on the phone in the office with the landlord saying we’ll take it.”
Silence, then, “Good, baby.”
“I’m scared out of my mind, Brock,” I admitted.
“Be stupid not to be, Tess,” he replied, and I pulled in a breath. “It’s a risk but it’s a risk worth taking. And it’s a lot of work but it’s work worth doing. It’ll pay off, it’ll pay off soon, and then it’s all about the nighties.”
I started laughing softly and then I stopped laughing softly and said quietly, “Yeah.”
“We’ll go out tonight, celebrate.”
Well. There you go. This decision was seeming like the right one already.
“Sounds good.”
“Not Lincoln’s Road House meatloaf sandwiches celebrating. You in sexy heels and a short skirt celebrating,” he clarified and I blinked at the dash because I’d never had sexy heels and short skirt fun with Brock. I’d had beer and pool table and plethora of neon signs on the walls fun with Brock plenty of times but never heels and short skirts.
Then I asked, “Really?”
To which he answered, “Absolutely.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“I’ll make a reservation and call you with the time.”
“Okay,” I repeated.
“Later, sweetness.”
“Later, honey.”
We disconnected and I tucked my phone into my purse, thinking about which heels I was going to wear with which short skirt, doing an about-face on my earlier thoughts, and congratulating myself on taking good advice from Brock because, since Martha started on Monday, already my time had been freed up. No schedules to do. No inventory to keep. No phone calls to pick up. And she helped out in front of the bakery too so I didn’t have to rush up there when things got busy.
This meant I could leave early and concentrate on getting dolled up.
I was grinning to myself because I knew exactly what I was going to wear: a dress and high-heeled strappy sandals I’d owned for over a year and had never worn. Martha talked me into buying them and I’d let her, for reasons unknown, because they were extremely sexy and thus something (at the time) I had no use for.
Now I had a use for them.
I walked through the front door smiling. I aimed my smile at Suni and Toby behind the counter.
They smiled back through the pack of people and Toby called, “Tess, a gentleman’s here for you. He’s waiting over there.”
Toby tipped his chin toward the tables, my head turned that way, and my smile froze on my face.
This was because Dade McManus was sitting at a table by the window, cleaned plate in front of him, fingers through the handle of a coffee mug also in front of him, a
nd lastly, a big manila envelope and folder also in front of him.
I tried to warm up my smile because he was a nice man.
I feared I failed because, even though he was a nice man, I wasn’t fired up as to why he might be there.
Still, I approached him smiling.
“Dade,” I greeted, and like the gentleman he was, he stood and bent to touch his lips to my cheek.
He leaned back, caught my eyes, and murmured, “Tess.”
“This is a pleasant surprise,” I lied.
His head tipped slightly to the side and his smile was small and solemn when he called me on it with a gentle, “I wish that were true, my dear.”
I pulled in a breath.
He gestured to the chair opposite his, asking, “Please, can you sit with me for a while?”
I nodded and he waited until I was seated before he sat.
I looked at his plate and with years of experience my eyes moved from it to him and I asked, “Devil’s food with dark chocolate buttercream?”
His brows went up in surprise and he answered, “Why, yes.”
“Practice,” I explained.
He nodded, then stated, “It was delicious.” I smiled my gratitude for the compliment then he queried, “Would you like me to buy you a cake and coffee?”
“Honey,” I said quietly, leaning in a little, “I own the joint. I don’t have to pay for the goods.”
“Every penny counts, Tess, and it would be my pleasure.”
I sat back thinking, God, Olivia was so totally dumb. First, she had Brock and killed that dead. Then she had Dade and did the same.
Complete idiot.
“That’s very nice but I’m good,” I told him and he nodded again.
Then he announced, “Although the subject matter I’ve come to discuss is unpleasant, my reason for coming to discuss it with you is not. I see you’re uncertain about our chat but I wish you to know that, before I leave, you’ll be happy I came.” He paused before he finished. “I hope.”
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t play poker,” I joked and he smiled.
“Definitely not.”
“Okay then, sock it to me,” I invited.
He sat back and rested a hand on the manila-ensconced mystery items beside his plate. I looked down at them then up at him when he started talking.
“I’ve been in contact with my attorneys. They’re poised to file divorce papers and will be doing so this next week. Once they’re filed, I’ll be giving Olivia two weeks to find alternate accommodation.”
Oh man. Time had run out. And although Brock’s lawyer was pushing Olivia, as well as doing what he could do at the courthouse to get something done, and soon, about custody, as they do, the wheels were grinding slowly. Brock’s attorneys had learned that Olivia had just hired her own attorney two days ago and the first thing he did was pour cement on the proceedings. Fast-drying cement. Guardian ad litem cement. She wasn’t going to sit down and discuss it. She was going to drag it out as long as possible. Which figured, since she was a bitch and didn’t give a shit about her kids. It also sucked just because she was a bitch and didn’t give a shit about her kids.
He continued. “I have a prenuptial agreement with Olivia. If we were to dissolve the marriage for anything other than infidelity, she would have walked away a very wealthy woman. Unfortunately, we will be dissolving the marriage due to a variety of reasons and one of those is infidelity. The clause in the prenuptial is that, if she were to be unfaithful to me, she would walk away with nothing and this, my attorneys assure me, is ironclad so this, my attorneys assure me, she will do.”
Well, good.
Kind of.
“Okay,” I said when Dade said no more.
He looked at me then he looked out the window then he looked at the manila folder and envelope under his hand and he sighed.
He looked back at me and said quietly, “I’ve known Joey and Rex now for nearly four years.”
My heart started beating harder.
“Yes?” I prompted.
“They’re good boys.”
“Yes,” I whispered, “they are.”
“After what happened here a few weeks ago and, I’ll say now, I’m sorry that happened to you and the boys. Although I heard it from her perspective, I know what most likely happened and I’m certain it was unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant is one word you could use,” I told him.
He gave me his solemn smile again and went on. “Well, after that, she has been doing nothing but ranting about you, about Lucas, and she does not hide this from the boys.”
“I know,” I said. “They tell their dad.”
And they did, or at least Joel did. That cell Olivia bought him was in overdrive. Brock had been fielding calls from an alternately anxious and fed-up Joey since it happened. Surprisingly, Brock was keeping cool about this but he really had no choice. Joel needed patience, understanding, and a listening ear, not more intense emotion.
It was me who dealt with the sandpaper atmosphere after Brock hung up with his son. And my tactics were sometimes beer, sometimes bourbon, and sometimes blowjobs.
All, luckily, worked a charm.
So far.
Dade nodded before he remarked, “I do not see good things for their immediate future.”
“You and me both,” I agreed.
“I do not want that for them.”
I held my breath and nodded.
He leaned forward, and as he did, he slid the manila envelope and folder toward me. Then he leaned back, leaving it in front of me.
“My private investigator’s reports and photos,” he stated. I blinked and let out a heavy breath then sucked in a heavier one. “Copies, of course.”
“Dade,” I whispered.
“Also, I’ve made a sworn affidavit as to her behavior subsequent to our marriage, specifically her behavior around the boys and also the escalation of it once your relationship with Lucas became known to her. That’s what’s in the envelope.”
Oh my God.
“Dade,” I repeated on a whisper.
“She is not a fit mother for a variety of reasons and those documents explain them all. I’ll have my attorneys call Lucas’s attorneys to let them know, if the affidavit is not enough, I will stand as a witness should this go to trial.”
I said not a word, just stared at him.
“I believe, with what I’ve given you, there will be enough that this doesn’t see a courtroom. However, I will also be doing my utmost for Joey and Rex to try, if it does, to make this happen quickly. Joel, I can see, is learning to stand up for himself and his brother. This is difficult to witness no matter how proud I am of him for doing it. And I am proud and have found quiet moments to tell him so. But it’s difficult because Olivia is not taking kindly to it. That will likely continue and also escalate. Something must be done and I have…” He hesitated then said, “Contacts.”
When he said no more, I asked, “Contacts?”
“Friends,” he replied.
“Friends?” I was still not getting it.
“Friends, Tess, friends who wear robes and command gavels.”
Oh.
My.
God.
Dade kept speaking. “Once I leave here, I’ll be making calls.”
I felt tears fill my eyes and, yet again, I whispered, “Dade.”
“If Lucas provides this information to his attorneys and her attorneys do not see the wisdom of moving forward quickly to grant your boyfriend sole physical custody then I will see what I can do to get the ball rolling so this can be done quickly, for Joey and Rex.”
I blinked away the tears in my eyes, momentarily speechless. Then that moment passed but, although no longer speechless, I still couldn’t find the right words.
“I don’t…” I shook my head and started again. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There is nothing to say, Tess. This business is distasteful for all concerned and there is no reason to drag it out for the inn
ocents caught up in it and, as I’m sure you know, Olivia will do her best to drag it out. The others of us who genuinely care for those boys need to do what we can.” He leaned forward and said softly, “And I genuinely care for them, so I’m doing what I can.”
He leaned back and held my eyes so I said the only thing I could say. “Free cake for life.”
Instantly, his face split into a smile that was not solemn and took ten years off his age. He was not difficult to look at normally but he was extremely handsome when he smiled.
So I told him so. “You have a very nice smile, Dade.”
“Thank you, Tess, and hopefully in the not too distant future, I’ll be doing it more often.”
I nodded. “I hope so too,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”
His smile turned small again before he used my words to reply, “You and me both.”
Then I shared, “Evidence is suggesting that I may be in the boys’ lives for a while, and if I am, I’d like for us to work together to find ways for you to stay in their lives too.”
The light died in his eyes but they got bright in another way.
He swallowed, controlling his emotions, and his smooth voice was rough when he said, “I would appreciate that, my dear.”
“I’ll talk to Brock,” I whispered, reaching out and grabbing his hand.
He turned it in mine and gave me a squeeze.
Then he let me go, started to stand, and I went up with him.
“Take care of yourself, Tess,” he said and I moved toward him, put my hands on his shoulders, and touched my cheek to his.
Leaving it there, in his ear I whispered, “You too, Dade. Anything you need, I’m here.”
His fingers curled around my upper arms, gave them a squeeze, and I moved back. He again let me go, smiled his solemn smile, and walked out of the shop.
I snatched up the folder and envelope, hoofed it to my office (which was now Martha’s office, really), and found her on the computer.
“Can you give me two shakes?” I asked. “I need to talk to Brock. Private. Good news. I’ll fill you in in a sec, but he gets the news first.”
Wild Man Page 34