“OBVIOUSLY!” Steven yells.
We all laugh and then gather around the iPad so I can talk Steven through the few things he hasn’t done yet. Then I walk to the office, grab my bag and take off my apron. I hang it on the hook with shaky hands, holding in a sob.
“You can cry all you want on the plane, okay?” Janie whispers behind me. I nod and she adds, “It’ll be here. Everything you really want will be waiting for you, Harp, once you decide that you want it.”
I nod and we leave through the back door.
I get in the Bronco, turn on The Beach Boys, despite Janie’s protests, and leave the back parking lot of the bakery. And I don’t look back.
CHAPTER 38
Aiden
“Saw the news in the Wall Street Journal today, must feel pretty brilliant,” Ben says as he slides into the booth across from me. He points to my drink and nods for another as the waiter walks by.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice flat.
“That’s it? You zero in on the Rockfords your whole bloody life, finally take their top spot and that’s it? Yeah?”
I sigh, “Yeah.”
“You always went on and on about how you’d finally dethrone them and old man Vandy would throw you a party on the Thames.”
I snort, “He sent a bottle of wine.”
Ben’s mouth hangs open. It was surprising to me, even. How little my father cares, about the Rockfords…or about me. Someone did throw me a party, after all. In a rundown bakery in a tiny town I actually miss. Quite badly.
“Was it at least a good vintage?”
I shrug.
Ben leans in, “Right, okay, so, you’re depressed.”
“Quite possible,” I admit. He sits back, shocked. I understand his reaction, as I don’t show or admit to weaknesses. A Vanderwell should have none.
“Well, shit. Have you tried therapy?”
I chuckle, “I think the therapy is what got me depressed.”
“Thanks,” Ben says as he accepts his drink. He looks back at me and jokes, “I think maybe you’re doing it wrong, then, mate.”
I nod, “Also possible. But what I mean is he, the therapist, is helping me see just how stupid I’ve been for basically my whole life.”
Ben laughs, “Well, then I think maybehe’sdoing it wrong.” I laugh too. He dips his chin, “Come on, whatsit?”
“Just the emptiness of chasing goal after goal. I’m sure your brothers and father and grandfather have faced this too.”
“This?” He asks.
“The giant gaping void one stares into after they’ve achieved their big goal and realized it was all about as exciting as a tooth cleaning.”
He gives me an exaggerated smile, “I love a good cleaning.”
“It shows, wanker.” I throw my fancy cloth napkin at his face. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. I’m sorry. Surely you’ve got another goal? Other goals?”
Just finding Harper and convincing her to date me and marry me.
