by Sera Taíno
Val swung her arms, snapping her fingers, unsure what else to say or do. The realization that she was stalling his departure forced her to take a step back. “Right. Okay.”
“We’ll talk.” He hesitated, as if he had more to say, before settling into the car and putting it in motion.
She didn’t want to be one of those people who stared as others drove off, but that was exactly who she was as Philip started his car, put it in gear and pulled away. She watched until his taillights dimmed to nothing in the dark.
Chapter Fifteen
Philip arranged a meeting with Morales and representatives of East Ward Fair Housing Coalition before the following week was out. The community liaison he’d asked Leighton to appoint was in place, but Philip decided to stay on and oversee negotiations. He wanted to make sure things were done right. For the sake of the company, the community. For Val.
He had no occasion to communicate with Val between her personal tour of her neighborhood and the meeting. When the day arrived, he watched the conference room door attentively, beyond excited to see her again. She wasn’t the only reason he organized the meeting, but she was the biggest incentive.
She arrived dressed in a white, button-down business shirt that highlighted the flawless olive tone of her skin and sensible slacks that hinted at her curves. She’d tied her hair back into a ponytail that made her look incredibly young. When she caught sight of him, her smile was quick and spontaneous before she appeared to remember herself and toned it down. But it had been enough to buoy his mood.
They got down to work. While Morales led the meeting, Val impressed him with how deeply informed she was on minutiae about which most people outside of real estate and development didn’t bother. The meeting about the Victoria was part of a larger effort to codify protections into laws that future developers would have to work with, so Philip took great care with the details. They also scheduled a follow-up meeting to formalize a proposed Community Benefits Agreement that Andreas Wagner would approve.
“This was a good session,” Morales said by way of conclusion. “It far exceeded our expectations.”
“It will save everyone time and energy in the future. We’ll meet again after I’ve discussed the draft with my father.”
Morales shook Philip’s hand. “Excuse me if I run out of here,” she said, addressing Val, as well. “I have another meeting to get to.”
“Thank you,” Val said, giving Morales a quick hug before the lawyer took her things and raced as politely as she could from the room. Everyone else had filed out, leaving Philip alone with Val. She shuffled her already-sorted papers while he tapped his pen against his notepad. Even with everyone gone from the room, and the skyline stretching out endlessly beyond the wall of windows, Philip felt claustrophobic.
“I feel really positive about this,” Val said. “Thank you.”
“It was a group effort.” The last thing he wanted was her gratitude for something he felt was the minimum concession for a company to make.
“No one person can do everything alone.” She held her leather portfolio against her chest, and he was back on her street again, unable to say goodbye to her.
“It’s almost twelve. I don’t know what your afternoon looks like, but there’s a deli up the block that makes excellent sandwiches and they don’t make you wait too long.”
Val glanced out the window, the hesitation evident in the pensive way she stared at the buildings before turning her attention back to him. “It’s a nice day for a walk.”
“Especially after being cooped up in here. Come on. My treat. You can leave your things in my office and we’ll get them later.”
Val handed him her portfolio. “There better be prices on the menu or I’m walking out.”
Philip’s laugh came from a deep place in his chest, a dam of anxiety and longing bursting free. He hadn’t felt this good in days. Not since the last time he’d been with her.
“There are prices everywhere. It was my first criterion for suggesting it.”
Val broke out in a smile. “I haven’t had a good pastrami sandwich in ages, even if I usually end up wearing half of it.”
Philip rounded the conference room table to hold the door open for her, hoping he didn’t look too ridiculous in his giddiness. “We can arrange for a bib if we have to.”
* * *
They ended up not needing a bib. But it really was too nice a day to sit inside the cramped deli. They took their sandwiches and drinks and made their way down to the waterfront, where they found a free bench in the park overlooking the river. Val felt like a kid playing hooky from school—lunch hour was rush hour in her restaurant, and she was always there for it. Her usual diffidence toward Philip had calmed down after working with him all morning. She always knew he was intelligent and something about him exuded competence. But his command of details was impressive. As a business owner, she could respect that.
She’d taken a chance accepting his lunch invitation but had been generously rewarded by a still-steaming pastrami sandwich, sour-cream-and-chives-flavored chips and an enormous side of Philip Wagner, taking up half the bench with his corporate fineness.
Happy Tuesday to me.
Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to buy an extra-large bottle of water, because the thirst was real out here.
“So which one of these high-rises do you live in?” Val asked between bites, spicy mustard stinging her lips.
“What makes you think I live in a high-rise?”
“I don’t know.” She tapped primly at her lips with a paper napkin. “Your company does massive development projects, so you probably have your pick of apartment units. You’re a single workaholic, so you probably don’t want to waste time commuting and I don’t see you riding the A train with the rest of us plebeians.” She caught his side-eye, which made her laugh harder. “So you have to live close by.”
“Ah, now you see, that’s where your preconceptions cause you to miscalculate. As a matter of fact, I don’t live in a high-rise. I live in a renovated warehouse.”
“Top floor?”
“Okay, yes,” he conceded. “Fair point. But—” he pulled out his wallet and slid the telltale MetroCard from its sleeve “—I like it there because it’s one stop to my work and I like the space.”
“It wasn’t a judgment or anything. I was just curious. But I bet you have a housekeeper.”
“I do happen to have someone who comes in once a week to clean up the place, but that’s only because I work a lot and I’d rather use my limited free time for other things.”
Val shifted on the bench so she was facing him. They were so different, she couldn’t help being curious about the way he lived. “What do you like to do with your free time?”
“Like you, I enjoy running.”
“How...? Oh, you saw the track trophies.” She smiled at how observant he was. “I’ve run the entire waterfront from my house to Exchange Place.”
“You’re better than me,” he laughed.
“What else?”
“I also enjoy watching movies in movie theaters. I’ve seen every single Star Wars movie on the big screen, and trust me, it makes a difference.”
“Damned straight,” Val said, offering him a fist bump, which he obliged.
“And I take my Italian girl out for pleasure drives on the weekends.”
“Oh, that sounds nice. I can’t do that. My jalopy doesn’t approve of aimless driving.”
Philip turned to her; she saw how a part of his sandwich was still wrapped in the wax paper. “If your jalopy doesn’t get too offended, I could offer to take you for a drive in my car this weekend.”
Val took a deep breath. He made it all sound so easy. They could easily be two coworkers, having lunch on a park bench, making plans for the weekend. She didn’t mistrust him completely—after the whole withholding his identity situati
on, he’d been honest with her and come through on the proposed agreement.
But it wasn’t a done deal yet. And she was terrified of any missteps that might jeopardize that.
“Maybe, after everything is signed and done with, we can celebrate together.”
Philip frowned. “You don’t trust me, do you?”
Val’s appetite suddenly shriveled up. Which was a shame—the sandwich was one of the best she’d had. “It’s not a question of trust. Not...completely. It’s more about propriety, you know? It’s not right to mix things up when we don’t know how it all will end.”
“I hear what you’re saying,” he answered, his eyes losing focus as he got lost in his thoughts. “But one thing doesn’t have to depend on the other. I wouldn’t jeopardize our work because of things that happen, or don’t happen, between us.”
She wanted to believe that. But people had a tendency to have more faith in their own goodness than sometimes was merited. Ethics were relative and it was easy to believe a version of the truth that suited the situation. She’d learned that lesson the hard way, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to risk a situation like that again.
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally.
Philip sighed but nodded. “Fair enough. Are you going to finish your chips?”
Val narrowed her eyes at him, but truthfully, she was full and she appreciated the way he was trying to lighten the mood. Rejection was a bitch, even if it had nothing to do with how much she liked him. “You’re a scavenger.”
“I am. Can’t stand to waste food.”
Val’s eyes went wide. “You sound just like Mom. She was always going on about waste. Don’t leave the lights on. Don’t eat with your eyes. Don’t—”
“Wait, don’t eat with your eyes?” He shook his head, his expression adorably confused. “What does that mean?”
“It’s a saying. It just means don’t serve yourself more food than you can eat.”
“That...makes absolutely no sense.”
Val frowned. “It actually does sound better in Spanish.” She chuckled to herself. “I’m so used to our sayings, I don’t bother to think them through very deeply.”
Philip leaned against the bench. At some point, he’d stretched his arm so it rested behind her back. Her awareness of it brought a prickly heat to her skin, which became worse when he brought his hand up to tuck a curl that had come lose behind her ear. “It’s sweet. I like your sayings.”
She looked away before he could trap her with his touch. He was easy to be with, but there was that thing between them that always found a way to bubble up and overrun their moments. She wished she had control over this craving that tethered her to him. Her breathing grew uneven and she fiddled with the wrapper of her sandwich. She ventured a glance at him.
“I should get back to the restaurant. It’s usually crazy busy at this time.”
A furrow appeared between Philip’s eyes, but it disappeared when he chased it away with a smile. “Let’s get you back then.”
Their return walk was quiet. People still milled about in the fine weather, and Val envied their apparent carefree pleasure. Whereas she ached and wanted and didn’t dare put a name to what she wanted.
“It was nice, Val,” he said, the words sounding like he was talking about more than just a nice lunch. It was always more than just nice with him.
“You’ll keep us posted on your father’s feedback?” She felt like a broken record, asking about one thing when she really wanted to know something else. But she didn’t dare tell Philip how much she wanted to hear from him just because, so the proposal was as much neutral territory as she could hope for.
“You can depend on it,” he answered. Val took the portfolio from his outstretched hand and clutched it to her chest like a shield. Who or what she was shielding, she didn’t interrogate too deeply, but it was high time she got out of there before her resolve failed her completely.
“We’ll talk,” she said. “Thanks. For lunch.”
“Anytime.” His hands were deep in his pockets again and for an insane moment, she wanted to drop the portfolio and throw her arms around him. That’s when she knew it was time for her to go.
Chapter Sixteen
When Val left, Philip made his way to his office. His concentration was shot again but a tennis match wasn’t going to solve the problem this time.
Val still didn’t trust him, which bothered him more than he wanted to admit. They’d done good work today, partly because their teams had been able to compromise with the expectation that they were all acting in good faith. The belief that what they were doing was good and fair and right. The scope of the meeting had extended beyond just the tenants of the Victoria and the waterfront, but also moved into questions of labor and unions, which would require a follow-up meeting to resolve. It had been a very good day.
But Val’s trust issues were more personal, and Philip had contributed to those issues by being dishonest in the beginning. It was a rocky foundation for any relationship, and he wished he knew a workaround for that.
First things first. He had to figure out a way to get his father on board with the draft proposal. He asked his mother to help him by reserving dinner at one of his father’s favorite restaurants. Getting him out of the office could only help Philip’s cause.
That’s how, a few nights later, the three of them found themselves seated in Pirandello’s, an exclusive restaurant in downtown Hoboken, with his father wrinkling his nose, not at the menu, but at the proposal Philip had given him earlier in the afternoon.
“When you said you would work with the community representatives, it was not with the intention of giving away the store,” Andreas grumbled, passing the file with his notes to Philip.
“Now, Andreas.” Philip’s mother’s voice still held a sweet lilt that reflected her wealthy Kentucky equestrian roots. She gave Philip a warm, indulgent smile, placing her hand over his. “Philip always does such excellent work. I’m sure if he’s made a decision, he’s done so with good reason.”
Philip gave her hand a grateful squeeze. She’d always been his biggest champion, even when he and his father were at odds. She had faith in his judgment and he felt like every success was a reward for her belief in him. Unlike his father, who sometimes gave or withheld his affections based on Philip’s performance, his mother was Team Philip, no matter what he did.
“I’m not questioning his judgment, Grace,” his father retorted, though with less antagonism than before. Mom would have never put up with that. “But twenty percent of capacity reserved for current tenants and an additional twenty percent for moderate income units? It’s not what we sold to investors.”
“Then they’ll pull out and pay the penalties to do so,” Philip answered. “There are other ways to get funding.”
“Oh, because money falls like manna from the sky?” Andreas sputtered.
“I meant selling more public bonds. The area is in demand and the city is willing. Money won’t be the issue.”
“Hmm, apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, it would seem.” Grace chuckled, taking a sip of water, her long fingers lightly wrapped around her glass, slick with condensation. Lifting his own drink to his lips, Philip thought of Val and her own strong hands that bore burn scars, hands he could kiss from the calloused tip to her slim wrist.
Andreas’s ears grew pink at the tips, and his jaw worked as if he were grinding stones. The waiter appeared with their menus, and Grace accepted them, thanking him with her usual delicacy.
“I won’t be bested by my own son,” Andreas said when the waiter left them alone again.
Philip frowned. He didn’t like it when his father slipped into zero-sum-game mode. “This isn’t about besting anyone. It’s my company, too. We’re flipping properties that already have occupants living in them. I never thought we were in the business of throwing people out on the
street.”
“No one is being thrown out on the street,” Andreas retorted. “We provide ample warning and invite tenants to remain if they’re able to pay for the modest increases in rent.”
“‘Modest increases,’ he says. Okay, Dad.” Philip resisted rolling his eyes. He wasn’t going to get into an argument with his father in public. “I suggest you double check those figures. The increases have been anything but modest.”
Andreas deflated, appearing more like the father he knew in private, not the ruthless corporate raider who wouldn’t hesitate to mow someone down if it meant reaching his objective. “I’ll go back and look. But regardless of what I decide, acquisitions will proceed as planned, even if we’re forced to make accommodations.”
Grace crossed her arms, considering her husband. “Is that the sound of a compromise being made? I never thought I’d see the day.”
It was Philip’s turn to smile. “Miracles happen.”
Andreas gave Grace a sidelong glance and Philip caught the slippage of his father’s armor. He was a hard-ass, but his mother wasn’t afraid to call him out when she needed to. She’d long ago turned her energies to building The Wagner Foundation and now mostly focused on the charitable organization. But Philip had the suspicion that, had she chosen otherwise, she would have given his father a run for his business money.
Andreas drummed his fingers on the table as they ordered. He’d gone impassive again, except for the nervous tapping. “Something else?” Philip asked.
“One of our potential properties has gone under contract for sale.”
“Congratulations?”
Andreas stopped his tapping. “No, it’s not being sold to us. I wouldn’t be surprised if the purchase itself were an act of protest against our interest in the property.”
Of course, his father would take it personally. “People are free to buy and sell as they like.”
“Not if I have a say,” Andreas retorted.
Philip felt his pique rising. “You don’t control everything.”