Rescue Me: A Frazier Falls Novel

by Collins, Kelly

  “I’d like to say he’ll be fine, but …” My head instinctively shook.

  “He’s going to crash and burn, isn’t he?”

  “There’s a high probability of that happening.”

  “How good was your speech?”

  A pfft sound left my lips. “Do you even have to ask? I could persuade an Eskimo to give me his parka during a winter storm.”

  “Confident much?”

  “Love you, too.”

  He glanced at the time on his phone. “When’s the exhibit?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Rich sighed in relief. “That’s okay, then. We can make it in time.”

  “It’s in Phoenix,” I said.

  “What the hell?” Rich paced around my room for a few manic seconds. “As in Arizona?”

  I nodded.

  “What are we waiting for? You said you weren’t giving up, and time’s running out.”

  “Huh?”

  “Do whatever it takes to make you look great, but do it quickly. Pack a bag. Get your speech. We have a long-ass drive ahead of us.”

  I stared at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. If this is how we save the mill, then this is how we save the mill. There’s nothing else to lose, right?”

  I gave him a small but genuine smile. “Right.”

  I almost jumped out of my skin when my phone rang. I grabbed it, hoping it was Owen, but it wasn’t. It was Paxton.

  I picked up immediately.

  “Paxton? What’s wrong?”

  “Ah, it’s Eli, actually. I can’t find my phone. Do you know where Owen went?”

  “I do,” I admitted. “Rich and I are heading there now.”

  “It’s that thing in Phoenix, isn’t it?”

  “How do you know?” I asked, surprised. “Owen was pretty private about it.”

  “Someone we know from Aspen Cove mentioned it the other day, and I wondered why Owen wasn’t going, considering how great his homes are. He’d already signed up, hadn’t he?”

  “Yes. I was working on it with him.”

  “Ahh. It all makes sense now. Wait. You know about New York, don’t you?”

  I glanced at Rich, who listened to my side of the conversation with interest. “Yes, I know about New York.”

  “Why the hell did you let him run off on his own to do something as stupid as make a public speech? He’s going to be a mess.”

  “He didn’t exactly give me a choice. He dismissed me from the project.”

  Eli chuckled humorlessly. “What an idiot. Pax and I will head off in the next hour or so. Do you want to drive with us?”

  I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “I think my brother and I could do with some quality time together for a few hours. Being stuck in a car alone with him sounds like the perfect excuse.”

  “Sounds like hell to me,” Eli joked, “but then again, what do I know? See you in Phoenix.”

  “You, too.”

  Paxton complained about not getting to speak before the line cut out.

  “I didn’t realize you’d gotten to know Owen’s brothers so well,” he murmured.

  “They’re all pretty great, to be honest. You’d enjoy getting to know them, too.”

  “We can save all that for after this exhibit. Time to get cleaned up. Your face looks like a raspberry.”

  “That kind of flattery will get you a black eye.”

  When I reached the door, I turned to look at him.

  “Thanks for coming back.”

  “That was always my plan.”

  “I thought you wouldn’t to spite me.”

  He laughed. “I was sorely tempted, but it’s just you and me, sis.”

  With my hands on my hips, I said, “Don’t run out like that again.”

  “Bossy much?”

  “And shave your face, but do it fast because we have to go.” I watched him walk out, but before he could close the door, I said, “I love you, big brother.”

  He peeked back in and smiled. “I know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Owen

  Calm down, Owen.

  You can do this.

  Shut up, heart. I’m okay. I’m okay.

  It’s just one speech. One speech. Ten minutes, and it’s done.

  Easy.

  Who was I fooling? Easy was the last thing it would be. It wasn’t just the speech. There would be questions upon questions upon questions afterward. Criticisms. Comments. All the things I was terrible at.

  And if I failed …

  My chest throbbed from the pounding of my heart. My rib cage couldn’t contain it. In seconds it would burst and end my misery. For a moment, I considered whether that might be the welcome escape I needed.

  Oh, yeah, have a heart attack. Get carted to the hospital and risk death. Yes, a speech is so much harder than having to deal with that. Don’t be an idiot.

  I’d rather lick a donkey’s ass than give this speech. On second thought, maybe not, but I’d sacrifice a limb if it was an option.

  Over to the right, Lydia and Wes Covington caught my eye. They were waving to me in encouragement. I was the next speaker, and I wasn’t ready.

  I’d been as close to okay as I could have been while I was manning my stall, where interested people could stop and look at my models and the video tours of the show-homes, but when it came to talking about my entire vision—my plan for scaling up, where I wanted to take the project, why I’d designed the houses the way I had, I completely froze. I was stilted and broken and short with my answers, and people quickly left to look at other stalls with far more charismatic hosts.

  I was screwed.

  I thought about Carla. I considered my brothers. Why had I believed I could do this on my own? I’d been a fool. If only I could call Carla now, to apologize and beg for her help—to tell her I’d been wrong. But Carla was hundreds of miles away in Frazier Falls and couldn’t rescue me. Here I was, trying not to sweat through my clothes in Phoenix. I curled a finger under the collar of my shirt, tugging at my tie and desperately trying to make it easier for my airways to do their job, but there was little oxygen available for my lungs.

  It was crushing and claustrophobic, and all I wanted to do was go outside and retch.

  Then the announcer for the presentations said my name. The crowd clapped politely, waiting for me to step up to the podium to tell them about my Green House Project and why they should invest in it.

  “I’m in way over my head,” I murmured under my breath as I strode over to shake the announcer’s hand as confidently as I could. I smiled broadly for the audience. And then—nothing. My brain went blank. I reminded myself that I could do this, but it was the biggest lie I’d ever told.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I … uh … Good afternoon. My name is Owen and today … oh. Owen Cooper. Guess I should have gone with my full name. I’m Owen Cooper.”

  Already, I could see faces in the audience switching off. They could tell from ten fumbling seconds that my speech would be complete torture to listen to.

  I couldn’t blame them. It would be much worse than that on my end.

  My chest constricted tighter than before, and then tighter. I struggled to breathe, but I didn’t know what else to do. I reached for a laser pointer sitting on the podium so I could use it with my presentation.

  It dropped and hit the floor.

  “Um, clearly everything is going exactly the way I wanted it to go,” I mumbled into the microphone, and elicited a few awkward laughs, but little else. I bent down to pick up the pointer, wishing I’d never have to get back up again.

  But I had to, and so I did. The silence all around me was deafening. I clutched the sides of the podium, my knuckles bone-white and tense. If anybody looked at me closely, they’d realize I was shaking.

  I resisted the urge to wipe my forehead even though it was coated in icy cold sweat. I just needed—I needed to breathe, but I couldn’t inhale. My vision went fuzzy, and
the words wouldn’t come out.

  I’d failed.

  The hand of an angel touched my arm. I knew who it belonged to before I turned to see her.

  Carla.

  Carla was here, and she smiled at me as if nothing was wrong, but her eyes were full of concern.

  She leaned in to whisper into my ear. “I’ve got this. Get the hell off the stage before you faint. I want you alive before I kill you later for being so hardheaded.”

  She beamed for the audience as I somehow miraculously made my way out of the spotlight and stumbled from the auditorium. As I closed the door, she addressed the spectators.

  “My apologies, everyone, but Mr. Cooper seemed to have forgotten that he hired someone to speak to you today.” There was a gentle laugh in response from the crowd. “Quality is in the details. My name is Carla Stevenson, and today I’ll be discussing the Green House Project. I have no doubt that you’re all clever enough to work out what the project is about, but I’m going to astound you with the facts. Sustainability is possible.”

  The door swung closed behind me, and Carla’s voice became hushed and inaudible.

  I barely registered Pax and Eli close behind, as I leaned heavily against the wall.

  “Owen, oh my God, are you—” Pax began, but the rest of his question was cut off as I violently vomited into the closest trash can.

  When a hand touched my back, I flinched.

  “It’s me, Owen,” Eli soothed. “Just me. Breathe. It’s okay.”

  I closed my eyes, ignoring everything as I focused on my breathing, and eventually, my lungs filled up with air once more. I stopped shaking, and when I finally looked up, my vision had returned with clarity.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Eli was the closest. His hand sat gently on my back.

  “Hello to you too, brother. Can you stand?”

  I nodded as I let go of the trash can and stood up, my spine popping into place as I did.

  Pax looked as pale as I imagined I was.

  “Should we call an ambulance?” he asked, but I shook my head.

  “I’m okay now. Another minute longer, and I wouldn’t have been.”

  “You’re such a baby,” Eli complained. “And an idiot,” he added, whacking me upside the head. “Who the hell doesn’t tell their family—who they work with—about something as important as this? What’s wrong with you?”

  “I … I … I don’t know. I didn’t want to tell you about my plans until I already had the investors in place.”

  “That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard,” yelled Eli.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “But you told Carla,” Pax said, his voice quiet.

  “That came about unexpectedly,” I admitted. “I’m still not sure how it happened.”

  “I’m glad it did, regardless,” he said. “What were you thinking, trying to do this by yourself when you’re such a mess?”

  I glanced at Eli. “Did you tell him about New York?”

  He shook his head. “That’s your story to tell.”

  “You might have given him a heads’ up,” I said in hopes that he had. It would make the tale much easier to tell.

  “And what, absolve you from your responsibility to talk to people about your own health?”

  “Okay, I get it.”

  Our conversation was interrupted by the sounds of loud, impressive applause. It only grew louder when Carla opened and closed the door to the auditorium and joined us.

  She rushed forward and flung her arms around me.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “I’ve been told. How did it … how did it go?”

  She looked up at me, her eyes flashing with excitement.

  “You better be prepared to help me answer some questions back at the stand. I have a feeling there will be a lot.”

  “You’re going to stay?”

  “What, do you think I came all this way to laugh at you?”

  “I …” My head shook. “Maybe to kill me.”

  “Oh, I plan to make you suffer, but I’ll save that for later.”

  I stared into her loving eyes. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then say nothing, but for the love of God, please eat something before you keel over. I still want to see you in that tux.”

  Eli raised an eyebrow. “Something special happening we don’t know about?”

  Carla laughed. “Don't ruin this girl's fantasy.” Then she spied someone entering the corridor and her eyes lit up. “Rich, how do you think I did? Pretty great, right?”

  “Yeah, you were awesome.” He grinned at his sister before giving me a timid stare. “Owen, I think I owe you an apology.”

  “Maybe for punching me twice, but not for anything else.”

  “Wait,” Carla interrupted. “He hit you twice?”

  “Yes, in the face and in the gut. Luckily, I got away with no bruising. You need to work on your upper arm strength.”

  Carla hit her brother in the chest with a thud. “I can’t believe you hit him two times for no good reason.”

  “I’m sorry, okay?” he said before looking back at me. “I apologize. After hearing Carla’s speech, I regret not listening to you the other night. That was shortsighted and wrong of me. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  “Don’t punch me again, and we’ll call it even.”

  Two more people joined us in the corridor; Wes and Lydia. It was Lydia, who ran over with concern written all over her face.

  “Owen, please tell me you’re okay,” Lydia said. “You terrified me back there.” She grabbed my wrist to take my pulse. She was a doctor through and through. “Pulse is fast but not life threatening.” Confident that I wouldn't drop dead on the spot, she let go.

  I smiled reassuringly. “Definitely okay now. I’m glad you hung back and heard Carla’s speech.”

  “We didn’t have much choice. This lady drew a crowd.” Wes held out his hand for Carla to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stevenson. I’m Wes, and this is my wife, Lydia.”

  “Should we be getting to your stand, Owen?” Pax asked as it became clear that more people were filtering out of the auditorium. Carla jumped to attention.

  “God, yes, we should head over. Eli? I don’t suppose you could get something halfway substantial for Owen to eat, could you?”

  “Not a problem.”

  “And a coffee, please,” I added, knowing that without a caffeine fix, I’d drop to the floor.

  Eli laughed as he nodded.

  Rich looked at his sister. “Hot chocolate?”

  “You’ll actually stoop down to my level and buy one in public for me?”

  “It’s not like anyone I know lives in Phoenix. I can indulge you on occasion.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Carla replied sarcastically, but she gave her brother a quick peck on the cheek before the two of us turned and headed toward my stand.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked quietly, so nobody else could hear.

  I gave her a weak smile. “As soon as you showed up to rescue me, I was fine.”

  “Hmm. Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

  “Okay, five minutes after you appeared, I was okay.”

  “That’s better. You ready for the investors?”

  “Yep, you saved me, and now it’s time to save Frazier Falls.”

  I looked at Carla’s beautiful, eager face. I wanted to kiss her—so badly wanted to kiss her—but I resisted the urge because one kiss would not be enough. There was a time I thought giving my heart to a woman was suicide, but looking at her made me realize that death by Carla might be worth it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Carla

  “Mr. Smith, thank you for meeting with us today.” Rich pointed to the chair in front of my desk.

  Mr. Smith bristled. “When I warned you that it wouldn’t be wise to wait until the end of the deadline to decide, I’d been serious. Nevertheless, the Frost Corporation’s offer st
ill stands.”

  Mr. Smith wasn’t looking at me. He knew as well as I did that his behavior the last time he’d come into the mill wasn’t acceptable, it was grounds for him losing his job. Not to mention an offense I could have him arrested for. Maybe he was scared that if he looked at me, I’d come to my senses and call the police.

  Rich had a smile plastered to his face that was as false as Mr. Smith’s. He gave me a knowing look. “I’m incredibly grateful to you,” Rich began.

  “You should be.” Mr. Smith straightened his tie.

  “Let me finish,” he said. “I’m incredibly grateful that you’re an asshole and that you showed your true colors before we signed the papers. If it was up to me, you’d be in jail.”

  I resisted the urge to grin.

  Mr. Smith narrowed his eyes. “I beg your pardon?” He looked nervously between Rich and me.

  “You assaulted my sister.”

  He shook his head. “That’s a lie.”

  Rich turned red. “What you don’t understand is I’m well versed in lies. I’ve been telling them to myself for years.” Rich walked over and lifted my wrist. “Lies don’t turn purple.” He spoke with vehemence in his voice. The fake smile was gone, replaced with a rock-hard, stony expression that meant business.

  Mr. Smith’s smile left, but it was replaced with confusion. “What are you saying?”

  “Oh, was I not clear? The Frost Corporation is getting nowhere near this mill. You will not strong-arm us into selling.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Smith glancing at me.

  “I’d tread carefully if I were you,” he warned. “If you reject our offer, then all we’ll have to do is wait for you to close, and then we’ll buy the land for cheap. It is a gross mistake on your part to walk away because of a stupid misunderstanding.”

  “Misunderstanding?” Rich’s face turned the color of a good cabernet.

  “Mr. Stevenson—”

  “We reject the offer,” he reiterated. “We firmly and unequivocally refuse the offer. Now get the hell out of our office.”

  His eyes swung from my brother to me, then back again. “You’re making a mistake.”

  “No, we’re not,” Rich said. “New business came in that will keep our mill open for a long time so you can kiss your fast food ranch goodbye.” He pointed to the door. “Now get out.”