by Piper Rayne
I groan, open the door, and walk right by that Xavier guy waiting in the reception area for his darling Clara.
“Presley,” Beth says.
But I fly out the door, heading right to the store as if I’m going to squat there and prevent anyone from buying it. I’m fully aware that I’m allowing my damn stubborn side to take over, but right now, I can’t find it in myself to care.
The bell attached to the door rings as I step into the space. It’s dirty, dusty, and cluttered. Three rows of sewing machines sit on tables, and the walls are filled with spools of thread, bins of rolled-up fabric under them. Books of patterns are stacked on a table in the corner.
Sitting in one of the chairs, I dial up my mom, happy that with the time difference, it’s later in the morning there.
“Presley,” she says. “What did the lawyer say?”
I called Mom last night after Cade canceled and I bought a new outfit. Not that Mom wouldn’t have called me—the woman probably has a tracker embedded in me somewhere. My mom takes the word overprotective as a compliment.
“There’s a third party who wants to purchase the building.”
She lets out a long, relieved breath. Just like she did when I told her I’d broken up with Lincoln after college. He wasn’t the kind of man she envisions me marrying. FYI, that imaginary person lives in Connecticut and had the same upbringing I did—country club, private schools, and familial wealth. “Oh, thank heavens. Have you booked your flight home then?”
“No, I don’t know what I’m going to do. It seems weird to me that I’m left this building and now someone wants to buy it from me. Plus, I’m expected to just take some offer instead of seeing what it can get on the open market?”
“How much did they offer?” she asks.
“One hundred twenty-five thousand.”
“For a building in Smalltown, Alaska? Take it, Presley.”
I look around the small building and can admit to myself that I’m amazed someone would even offer that. I spot the same handwriting that was in my letter scribbled on patterns splayed out on the tables. The woman who grew me in her belly, the one I share DNA with, spent the majority of her time here.
“My God, you’re thinking about staying, aren’t you?” From her tone, you’d think I told her I preferred cotton over cashmere.
“No. I don’t know.”
“Presley, think about this. That town doesn’t want you. You’re a reminder of the secrets people hide in their closets.”
In Connecticut, no one would ever have told a soul about the child they gave up for adoption. Image is everything. So why is something drawing me to this place?
I say, “I haven’t decided. I just think that if I sell, I should get fair value.”
“Just take it and come home. You’re not going to find what you’re looking for there.”
“And what do you think I’m looking for?”
She blows out a breath. “I’m sure you’re curious as to who she was. When I adopted you, I wasn’t naïve enough to think you’d never want to meet her. But she’s passed on now. I’m afraid maybe her wanting you to take over this building is more for her other daughter than you.”
I lean my head into my palm, stretching out on the table. There’s no denying my mom has a point. But I feel freedom here. I’m not being pushed into the box my mom wants me in. This is somewhere I could spread my wings, for lack of a better term. Find out what I want in life, what I’m made of. And I’m not sure I can do that in Connecticut.
“Presley,” my mom says, “I’ll catch the first flight I can get. Help you navigate this and bring you home.”
It’s tempting, knowing that the people in this town might not want me here. Everything my mom is saying could very well be true.
I stand and go to the back of the building. There’s a desk there, set away from the rest of the store. From the calculator and bills on top, I’d say this is where she did the business side of things. I sit down and open the drawers, finding journals of sketches she designed in most of them. I open the last drawer and pick up a journal.
I allow Mom to carry on while I continue to be nosy. “I can fix this for you. Or you can come home and your father…”
A picture slides out of the journal and I catch it before it falls to the floor. It’s the same picture my mom showed me when she told me they adopted me—a typical newborn picture taken in the hospital and it’s of me. There’s no name on the back, but I know it’s me just the same. I scour the pages of the journal, hoping it was hers from when she gave me up and she anguished about whether she was making the right decision. Sadly, it’s just business plans.
The bell chimes and I stand, rounding the partition to the front of the store. My mom continues telling me all the options that involve me leaving this town and returning back to her.
“I gotta go, Mom,” I say.
“Presley.”
I click to end the call and look at the woman standing across the room, wondering what she wants to yell at me about now.
“Can we talk?” Clara asks like a scorned puppy with her tail between her legs.
Let’s hope this goes better than the first time.
After I drop Rylan at soccer, I head over to the brewery because this is my life. I’m either working or doing things with my family. Plus, the twenty-four-hour deadline I have from Nikki is on my mind.
Speaking of which, I’m listening to her now to make sure she’s abiding by her word.
“The buzz around Sunrise Bay is which two companies will be named this month to collaborate on duo night. After last month’s collaboration between Mary from Bakey Cakey and Chuck from Meatmarket, the next two participants will have their work cut out for them in planning a fun night for the community. Mary outdid herself with those tasty cakes that looked like beef.”
Thankfully, my family are people of their words. I breathe a sigh of relief and turn off the station as I drive through downtown. It’s quiet for a Saturday, and as I round the back of the brewery and park, I look at Mrs. Harrison’s space. Guilt weighs on me over Jed putting in that offer for the building, but when he woke me in the middle of the night with his crazy idea, it sounded like a good option. Clara doesn’t want it, and I doubt Presley does either. Who would want to stick around a town where you’re the spotlight of the gossip mill? And she would be if she stayed.
Walking into the brewery, I don’t bother going to the front of the building, but stay in the office to get some paperwork done.
My phone rings in my pocket and I pull it out, seeing Jed’s name on the screen. “What’s up?”
“Xavier just called. I guess the offer for us to buy the building wasn’t met well by your girl. Things went downhill between her and Clara from there.”
I run my hand down my face and around my neck and pull to release all the stress. “So it’s a no.”
“I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Maybe we could figure out a way to make her want to leave.”
“Jesus, Jed.”
“Then the only other option is for us to go over there. Talk to her. Let her know it’s us. That we’re up-front, honest guys and the offer is a solid one.”
“Or we just don’t expand.”
He laughs. “You don’t know me at all, do you? I get it if you don’t feel comfortable, since you want to bang her, but I’m going to head over there now.”
“I think we should just let them—”
“I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Click.
Damn Jed. The guy doesn’t have an off switch. Clara and Presley are dealing with a lot right now. We should give them time to sort it out.
I grab my coat and walk out of the front entrance of the brewery. Sure enough, Jed is already parked and rounding Meatmarket, heading toward the old sewing store. He smacks on his charismatic smile. He probably practiced his speech on the way over.
“Let’s do this.” He smacks his hands together and rubs them.
“You’re going to get
your ass kicked.” I open the door, allowing him to go into the sewing store first.
Clara and Presley are in there, looking as if they’re in a standoff. Clara’s at the front of the store and Presley’s near the back. They both turn their attention our way.
“You need to give us a minute,” Clara says, holding up her hand.
“Just let us plead our case,” Jed says and walks by Clara, sliding up on a table between them as though he’s going to play mediator.
“Case?” Presley asks.
“These are the buyers,” Clara fills her in.
Presley’s gaze shoots to mine and she huffs. “Convenient.”
“I did an honest comparison, and the fair value is more like a hundred thirty thousand, so if you want us to go up that high, we’ll do it, but I think the as-is clause has to be enticing, no?” Jed looks around. “We can get rid of all this junk.”
“It’s not junk,” Clara says.
“Of course not, but what are you going to do with six sewing machines?” Jed’s quick to change his approach. Seriously, I know he hates his father, but sometimes he’s so much like him and he thinks he can sell anything to anybody.
“Maybe we’re going to open the store back up.” Presley shoots me a glare.
Shit. She’s angry with me.
Jed laughs.
Bad move.
“Do you have something to say, Jed?” Clara asks.
He holds up his hands. “Well, if you two could actually thread a needle and sew two pieces of fabric together, then I wouldn’t laugh, but clearly…” His eyes zero in on Presley’s heels and roam up her outfit. She looks gorgeous. “Neither of you are into sewing your own clothes.”
“You know nothing about me.” Presley crosses her arms and juts out her hip. Her jeans are tight, showcasing the curve of her hips and calves, and I can’t help but wonder what her legs would look like if I peeled those jeans down to the floor.
“I know you’re wearing high heels with no socks and it’s spring in Alaska. I know the jeans you’re wearing are designer.”
Strike that whole thing about him being like his father. Jed is not selling this.
“Let me intervene,” I say, taking a seat at the table across from Jed.
“Oh please, what? Are you going to try to seduce me to get the space?” Presley asks.
This is what I was afraid of. “That’s not what I was doing.”
She nods as if she’s got my number. “Really? Do you always ask out girls you just met?” She looks at Clara. “Is Cade here the Casanova of Sunrise Bay?”
Clara bites her lip. She knows I’m not like that, and telling the truth will only hurt my case. “No. He doesn’t date a lot.”
Fucking hell.
“You were different,” I say, but Presley raises her hand.
“It doesn’t matter. Obviously that whole situation is over now. You tried to go behind my back and get the building from me.”
My forehead wrinkles. “What?”
“I think you have it wrong,” Jed says.
Presley waves her hands, reminding me of a child who puts her fingers in her ears and says no, no, no. She points at Jed and me. “Listen, I know you want the building. And I know you want to sell it,” she says to Clara. “I don’t know what I want yet, so just give me some space.”
Jed hops off the table. He’s not one to easily accept defeat. “This is a lot for you to take on. Not even just the store. Cleaning all this, making it your own, getting rid of whatever you want to sell. And then you have the town. The gossip mill around here is not easy to handle.”
Presley’s eyes narrow at Jed, so I hop down and go to his side. She turns her laser eyes on me.
“He means you should think about those things before committing,” I say.
“Oh really? Please enlighten me.”
“I saved you for twenty-four hours with our sister, Nikki. Well, my stepsister, but his real sister,” I say as Jed shakes his head and Presley looks as though she couldn’t care less. “She won’t report this whole thing on her radio show, but tomorrow morning, the entire story about you being Mrs. Harrison’s daughter will be on the news.”
“You saved me?”
I run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
She scowls. “Oh, I’m not worried about it. Do you people really think your small town gossip has anything on what I have going on back home? It can’t be any worse than attending a private school with privileged youth. The conniving and the lies would make your head spin. So I don’t need your saving, Cade.”
Clara laughs, and I look back at her. She bites her lip to stop herself, but I can tell she’s enjoying this.
Jed glances at me. “He’s just trying to help.”
“Oh my God. I’m not looking for a prince to swoop in. Why does everyone in my life think I need saving? I don’t. I’m a grown woman.”
My eyebrows rise. Is this the same sweet woman from yesterday?
“So what, you’re going to stay in town?” Jed says it with a laugh on the edge of his tone. Even I know that’s the wrong move.
“Maybe I am.”
“You are?” Clara asks.
Jed and I part to allow the two sisters to look at one another.
“I don’t know.” Presley shrugs.
Clara doesn’t say anything, and the room goes quiet.
“Can we talk?” Presley asks Clara in a calmer voice.
Clara nods and walks forward. “It’s why I came here. Because I didn’t like how I left it. That’s not me. This is just a lot to deal with.”
Jed and I share a look of surprise.
“I have no idea how to act,” Presley says with a vulnerability that makes my heart squeeze.
“Come on. I’ll show you around town,” Clara says, then tosses me a key. “Lock up, boys.”
I catch it, and they walk out, turning right down the street.
“What the fuck just happened?” Jed runs a hand through his hair. “This was ours. Your girl cannot be thinking she’s going to stay and take over this place.”
I’m still staring at the door. “Suffice it to say, she’s not my girl. And probably never will be.”
He smacks me on the back. “I think you dodged a bullet.”
We walk out of the building and I lock the store. Jed walks over to the brewery while I stare down the street. There’s this feeling in the pit of my stomach saying that there’s still something there. Regardless of whether Presley’s going to deny it, we have a connection. Maybe if she decides to stay in town and we don’t get to expand Truth or Dare, it’s not such a bad thing. Just don’t tell Jed.
Clara puts on her mittens and I put on my hat that isn’t nearly as wintery warm as hers. I’m not going to complain about my heels and the cold weather though, since that’s opening myself up for more ridicule.
A group of four men sitting on a bench outside a store called the Handyman Haven stare at us as we walk past.
Clara tugs on the sleeve of my coat and nods. “Let’s go toward the bay.”
I follow her, and neither of us says anything for a long time.
“Do you really want the building?” she asks.
I shrug. “I’m still deciding. I’m still processing, to be honest.”
She stops, and I do the same to see if she’s okay. “Did you know?”
“Know that I was adopted?”
She nods.
“Yeah. Did you know about me?” I ask.
Her shoulders sink. “I knew nothing. Nothing at all. Mom mentioned in her letter that Grandma Beatrice was in contact with you?”
“Yeah, she sent me birthday cards and my mom sent her pictures.”
She flops down on a bench as though she doesn’t have the energy to continue our walk. My feet thank her. “I’m just in so much shock. I mean, how did they never tell me that I had a sister?”
“You’d know better than me. You were their daughter.”
She looks over and
I’m still struck by how similar we look, although she doesn’t wear the makeup I do. “Do you hate me?”
I stare out at the water and the fishing boats lined up on one side. How can I answer that?
“No, I don’t hate you. I wanted to tell you myself at the wake, but I couldn’t get you alone. I’m a little bitter that it seems like everyone wants to push me out of town to protect you though.”
She nods as though she understands. “I have no idea why I got so angry at the lawyer’s office. I’m mad that I was kept in the dark all these years and they were all too chicken to tell me. I took that out on you. If anything, you’re the one suffering more than me.”
“I think the suffering is the same for both of us, just different.” I sigh. “My mom wants me to go home.”
“Your mom. That’s weird to hear. But of course you have a family. Are they nice? Like, did you enjoy where you grew up?”
I think about it. I might complain about an overprotective mother and a dad who worked more hours than he spent with me, but I wanted for nothing and I never felt unloved. “I did. I love my family, it’s just… I expected to get a piece of jewelry or something, not half a building and the opportunity to start a life here.”
Clara laughs. “I can understand that. Leave it to Mom to throw a grenade after she dies and stir up the gossip in this town.”
“I’d love to know what they were like, but not right now.” I’m not sure I could bear hearing about Clara’s upbringing right now, imagining how it could’ve been mine. And most of all, I don’t want that to be a part of my decision to stay or not.
“Any time.”
“What do you do?” I ask.
“I’m the librarian. One of them at least.”
“And you’re happy here?”
She nods. “I am.”
“Did you go to school for English?” I ask. How ironic that I wanted to major in English but was talked out of it by my dad.
“Yeah. Worthless degree, right?” She chuckles. “But I had a double major, so I took library sciences too.”
“I think it’s great. I wanted to get an English degree too. I love reading. Of course, I never imagined my own life being similar to a novel.”