A hot flush rises in my cheeks. I wrap my hands around my cup, staring into the swirl of vegan cocoa. “I think it’s over between us, actually.”
Gran pouts, lips pursed in a way that makes her look mischievous and twelve years old. “That’s a shame. I was so proud of you, infiltrating from behind enemy lines.” Then her voice softens, almost conspiratorial. “Though I’ll admit—I thought he might actually love you.” My heart twists at the thought.
Before I can respond, she lowers her voice. “My pot roast sucks.”
I burst out laughing, grateful for the release, and she joins me, both of us shaking with mirth.
“Who needs a dashing billionaire? They’re bossy, entitled, and clearly have no desire to save Christmas,” Or be a father to our baby. “I’m much better off with a mountain man who runs a tree farm and only wears plaid.”
We finish the puzzle with Christmas carols playing on the radio and silence between us. Gran doesn’t mention Marcel again, but every time I look at her, I know she is thinking of him. I’d never brought a man home before. And well, Marcel fit in. He only spent a little time with us, but after my grandfather's death, and the death of her son, I think Gran liked having a man around who was strong and caring. I feel horrible because Marcel isn’t just leaving me, he is also abandoning Gran.
As much as I have been dreading it, Monday comes. At the office, I bury myself in the work I’ve been assigned, grateful for the routine. I already made copies of the plan and sent them allout, but I spent extra time researching the historical significance of the library.
Before it was a library, the building was a town hall. Dating back two hundred years, the town hall was the heart of the community. Structurally it is safe and was renovated in 2010. While it isn’t earning a lot of money, it does have cultural significance. As far as the rest of the community, the houses are under market value and there are three blocks of buildings that are being condemned. That isn’t going to bode well for my argument to save Eaton.
I’m proofreading my report one last time when the door flies open and Clara sweeps in, dressed like she owns the building.
“Where’s Marcel?” she demands, staring me down like I’m dirt on her shoe.
“In a meeting,” I answer evenly, trying not to sneer.
Her eyes narrow, but her lips curl into a smile that is catlike and cunning. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait in his office.”
I want to stop her, but technically I can’t. I sit frozen in place with my heart constricting, while she disappears behind the frosted glass.
I want to finish the report and prepare my plea for saving the community, but it’s hard to move past my anxiety and nausea. I’m not sure if it’s early pregnancy symptoms or genuine fear and stress? I do my best to finish this report as after I turn it in, I’m going to quit. I don’t need this job; I have money saved. When I return to university next month, I’ll just be more frugal with my spending.
I’m not even processing that I’m pregnant and I’ll be living for two people soon. While I assume Marcel will provide money to support us, I don’t know how I will feel about accepting it.
Despite it being Christmas and my favorite time of the year, life seems very sad and shallow right now and it’s hard for me to shake the feeling.
Minutes later, muffled words drift through the door. At first I think Clara’s talking to herself, but then I realize that she’s on the phone. I focus on her conversation, which I can hear, though it’s difficult. I have to really concentrate, but what I am able to decipher adds to my growing unease.
“I’m looking at paperwork on the project. It has been funded, and it’s during the last year of alimony. He’s getting his first payment tomorrow when demolition starts, that means I get a quarter of whatever he receives. Yes, he’s in a meeting right now to approve the project, it says they are starting demolition tomorrow. Oh, he won’t cheat me out of what I’m owed. I can assure you, and of course you’ll get your ten percent.” Her laugh is light, triumphant. “The smartest thing I ever did was track him down in Rhode Island. I knew something was going on here—he was trying to cheat me out of millions.”
I can’t breathe. Not because of the money, though that’s cruel enough, but because it means everything Marcel swore he cared about, the community, the homes, the lives here, all of it will be bulldozed into nothing—and he lied that he would try and stop it.
Clara just wants to get as much out of Marcel as she can. Likely, she’s never lived without money, especially his money, and the idea of it must be terrifying so she’s going in for the kill while she still can.
My stomach turns. Gran was right, even if Marcel wants to love me and tries his best to be a better man, he’s still part of this machine that takes and takes until there’s nothing left. I press my palm to my belly. I can’t imagine a child growing up with a father like that. A man who destroys; a man who won’t fight for people who deserve to live happy lives. He’s right, he’ll be a terrible father. Better to face the world alone than to let my child be raised by a man I don’t ever want him to become.
The door to the conference room clicks open, and Marcel steps out looking every inch the power broker. He’s calm and unflinching as he strides out of the room with several other men and one woman who all look like they’d been through hell. He has no idea what storm is waiting for him inside the frosted glass walls of his office.
Clara doesn’t give him a chance to breathe before she launches at him with a, “Hello Marcel, we need to talk.” Her smile is wide and venomous. “Congratulations on your deal, and just before Christmas. This has made us both so much richer.”
For a second, just a fraction of time, I see his mask slip. They are standing in the hall outside of his office door and Marcel’s eyes harden as something like rage flickers across his face. He doesn’t greet her with warmth, nor does he match her enthusiasm.
“What are you doing here, Clara?” His voice is cold enough to frost us all.
“Oh, come now. You didn’t think I’d let something this big slide without coming to check in?” She tilts her head, chin lifted in defiance. “The lawyers agree, by the way, since you funded this during our last year of alimony, I get a quarter. It’s all very tidy. And here you must have thought you were goingto hide this all from me; sneaky little elf doing this deal during Christmas.”
"You’re lucky I didn't send you to federal prison for corporate espionage, Clara," he says.
"And you're lucky I signed that settlement," she counters, smoothing her skirt. "If the board knew how easily I played you, you'd have been ousted years ago. Now, about my payment... I know you're closing the Eaton deal. My settlement grants me a percentage of your income. I'm here to make sure you don't hide the assets in an offshore account.
I feel sick because Marcel doesn’t deny that he’s closed the deal. He just stares at her, silent and unyielding. He doesn’t say he’ll fight her or that he’s chosen to save the community and the historic buildings, the families’ homes, the playground, and the town square. He doesn’t choose to not get richer on the backs of hard working people who will never get more than this in life. What was all the work I’ve been doing for? Busy work to keep me out of his way so that while we were drinking hot cider and strolling around town his lawyers were ruining it all?
I clutch the stack of files in front of me, fingers trembling. This man is the man who kissed me goodnight and looked into my eyes and said he’d try. He’d try to save the community, he’d try to make a good choice regarding our baby, and he’d try to be a better man. And he’s also the Grinch who’ll let bulldozers roll through family kitchens and backyard treehouses. The same man who will tear down the historic library and kill the heart of a community, and who will let Clara carve pieces of him into cash.
