“No way,” the man in the Italian suit held up his hands. “Almost did once, but then she was always complaining about my work schedule. Said I would have to choose her or the paycheck.” The guy scoffed and added, “I went out and bought new golf clubs that day with the money I saved.”
More laughter.
I shook my head in disgust.
“Aww, you must have someone. Get a prenup, right Jack?” He nodded to the man on his side. “He’s on his fifth wife and knows all the best loopholes. Saved several of us thousands.” He gestured around the room.
Wow. I needed to change the subject. “Have you started your Christmas shopping?” It was a sorry attempt at conversation, but I no longer wanted to talk about failed marriages and fake lives.
“I don’t have time for that. A secretary will send a box of fruit to any address you give her. My parents like the pears.”
“You send your parents fruit for Christmas?” I couldn’t keep the disdain from my voice.
“Yep. I never see them anyway. They send me a card with money. We all live busy lives and wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I looked around the room and saw my vision board come tolife. Fancy food, successful careers, and prestige. This was who I would've become without Marissa. I realized now, standing in the middle of my dreams, how empty and exhausting this life was. After thirty minutes of small talk and free food, I was sick to my stomach.I needed to get Marissa to talk to me. To get her to see I was here to stay.
I walked out of the party into the hall, where pictures of the “top lawyer of the year” hung on the walls. I walked down the length of space, studying each face. They looked proud but also exhausted. What were their lives really like?
When I reached the end of the photos, I froze, recognizing the man staring back at me. He was younger and not wearing a Hawaiian shirt, but it was my dad. I double-checked the name. Ron Elliott. What? I felt like someone had ripped the ground out from under me. How could this be?
A rustle of fabric sounded from behind me. I turned to see Clyde Johnson looking at the pictures too.
“He was one hell of a lawyer.” He sighed.
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. “My dad worked here?”
“More than worked here. We were partners. Ran this firm together before he dropped it all. No one could compete with his work ethic or cutthroat court room persona. Even me, and that’s saying something.” Clyde raised an eyebrow, glancing at me. “That is, until your mom convinced him to help her save some old houses from becoming a parking lot.”
I looked at the picture. It was still Dad, but his cheery smile was hollow, and his eyes were dull. It wasn’t the man I knew and loved now.
“Huh.”
“Enough about the past. Now tell me where things stand with the bed-and-breakfast.”
I straightened my jacket. I was not here to beg for a job. This place held nothing for me now. I was here for Carol.
“I’ve talked with Carol and she is interested in selling?—”
“You did it!” Clyde slapped me across the back.
I stepped out of his reach. “But there are a few stipulations she would like to keep.”
Clyde scowled. “Like what?”
“She wants to ensure the community can still use the facility. A clause that they would have access to the property and amenities at a steep discount. Also, she wants a rec center built on the land for the town to use.”
Clyde laughed, “She really is mad.”
I didn’t laugh.
“The investor plans to bulldoze every piece of property and turn it into a resort, not turn it into a community handout. The town will be lucky to have the source of income as jobs.”
I figured that would be his response. “She won’t sell without those stipulations in place.”
“Your job offer is on the line, you know that. You don’t have what it takes if you can’t persuade a little old lady to?—”
“I’m no longer interested in working here.”
