1
Cupcakes, coffee, and closing a huge deal, all before lunchtime. What more could a girl want?
New shoes? Absolutely.
The cherry red Prada pumps Cami wore today were her splash of color to close the deal with Emerson—the largest property Akron Development had acquired in the last two years, in Nashville, Tennessee, where the main office was located. All negotiated by Camellia Jackson, the boss’s daughter, thank you very much, with zero, zip, nada help from him.
Cami exited the elevator on the second floor from the top to a round of applause.
“Way to go, Cami!”
“Chip off the ole block!”
“On fire, girl!”
A shrill whistle pierced the air, breaking through the symphony of office sounds—keyboards clicking, voices humming, and printers printing. Had to be Maddy Patterson, who coached her daughter’s softball team. Yep, when Cami looked around, Maddy’s fingers were on her lips, forming another loud whistle.
Cami bowed and curtsied. Was she glowing? She felt like she was. “Thank you all. I couldn’t have done it without the amazing team here at Akron.”
Maddy whistled again as Cami made her way to her office, soaking in all the attention. Make no mistake, she’d worked hard for this one. Really hard. Because being the boss’s daughter afforded her nothing.
“Love the shoes! Jimmy?” This from Astrid, Cami’s personal assistant, who stood by her office ready to trade Cami’s Gucci purse and attaché for an iPad and a Perrier. Soothing jazz piped through a speaker hidden behind a silk plant in the corner. Astrid always played music, insisting she needed to cover the noise outside their office that filtered in when the door was open, which was always.
“Prada. And nothing says success like red shoes.”
Cami’s shoes were her thing outside of closing deals for her father’s company. Which was her number one thing. She strived for his approval. Don’t judge. At least she could admit it.
“I’d love to talk shoes and shopping, but…” Astrid said with a hesitation in her voice. “Brant wants to see you.”
Cami stared at her assistant. “You’re kidding.” Dad, aka Brant, was always busy when she closed deals. It took days, sometimes weeks, for him to congratulate her on a deal.
While her colleagues had his approval, praise, and delight, atta boys, atta girls, slaps on the back, celebratory steak dinners, plaques for their walls, goofy trophies for their desks, Cami received a passing congratulations and eventually, sometimes, her steak dinner.
When it came to his dear ole daughter, Brant Jackson’s words were few. Sometimes she wondered if it pained him to really praise her.
“Not kidding. He buzzed down right before you came in,” Astrid said.
Cami started for the door. “Do you know what it’s about?”
“Haven’t a clue.”
The duo walked to the elevator together. Astrid whispered a good luck then turned back to their office space. Good luck? Why would she need it? She’d just closed a huge deal. Was he actually calling her up to his penthouse office to congratulate her?
Dad was sitting at his desk when Cami knocked lightly on his open office door. “You wanted to see me?”
“Cami,” he said, standing. “Come in, come in.”
For years now, her relationship with Dad had seemed to be a tug of war. Which one would show some sort of affection first? As a teen, Cami had felt it was her father’s responsibility, especially after Mom died. But she’d learned quickly she would have to extend the olive branch. Which had eventually made her angry. Which had made her quit trying.
However, he knew she’d closed the Emerson deal, so was he finally bending first?
“I’m flying down to Palm Beach this afternoon.” Dad moved to the chair at the small glass-top table in the corner of his office. “Roger Davis finally agreed to meet about his oceanfront property. I was going to take you for your steak dinner, but I’ll need to reschedule.”
She struggled to mask her surprise. He’d been going to take her to dinner? “I can’t go tonight anyway. I made plans with Annalise.” Her sister was her best friend and counselor.
When Dad had cancelled Cami’s steak dinner after her second—or was it third?—big acquisition, Annalise had thrown her a surprise dinner. Her husband, Steve, had sizzled steaks on the grill along with corn on the cob. Annalise had made Mom’s green bean casserole and homemade apple cake and invited half a dozen of their childhood friends. She and Steve were the picture-perfect, happily in love couple.
It’d been the best steak dinner ever. Cami smiled, remembering.
