Every Little Thing
Page 99
“Do I care? They offered me way more than this place is worth. And frankly they’ve been far more accommodating than my own sister. They let me stay at the Grand free of charge, in an actual bed.”
“Mom and Dad won’t let you do this.” I grasped at straws.
“There’s nothing they can do to stop me. Unlike you, I don’t need their approval.”
“If you do this, none of us will forgive you.”
That made her pause for a moment, her gaze lowering to the floor. “Well, maybe not for a while.” She looked up at me. “They’ll get over it.”
“I won’t.”
Vanessa sneered. “Like I care if you love me. Let’s not pretend anymore, Bails. You and I can’t stand each other.”
“I don’t like you,” I agreed. “I think you’re a selfish brat and this moment only highlights that fact. But I do love you. And the fact that you could do this to me—”
“Oh, please. Enough with your righteous martyr act. You walk around like you’re the only one who works hard. Contrary to what you think, what I’ve had to do to survive has been hard work.”
“Yes, well, working on your back all those long hours can’t be comfortable.”
Mona barked with surprised laughter at my insult and Vanessa sliced her a killing look before turning it on me.
“Did you just call me a prostitute?”
“No, prostitutes are honest members of the oldest profession in the world—they provide sex as a service to men and men pay them for that service. You manipulate men who have money with sex to get to their money. I think that makes you a whore.”
“Bailey,” Dahlia muttered in warning.
But I was so angry I no longer cared what I said to my sister.
“If that was your idea of talking me out of this, then you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
Sadness overwhelmed me. “Vanessa, you have no intention of changing your mind whether I’m sweet and pleading . . . or just damn honest.”
“Yes”—she twisted her face in bitterness—“but hearing you plead would have made my day.”
“You little bitch!” Dahlia let me go and this time I had to hold her back. “You evil little bitch!”
“Don’t,” I murmured to my friend. “She’s not worth it.”
Dahlia whipped around to stare at me, incredulous. “But what about the inn?”
I didn’t know.
But maybe my parents did, or my brother. I strode out of reception, not giving my sister another glance, and as I made toward my office I heard Dahlia say, “You’ve got five seconds to get your boney little ass out of here before I smack the cosmetic enhancements off your face.”
As tears spilled down my cheeks, I tried to soothe the wound my sister had opened in me by reminding myself they may not be blood but my friends were the best sisters a girl could ask for.
Closing the office door behind me, I hurried to the phone.
The words spat out of me in a jumbled, frantic mess and my dad had to ask me to repeat them. His response once I did and did it slower, clearer, was a riot of curse words I didn’t think I’d ever heard my dad use before.
“This can’t be right,” Mom whimpered over the speakerphone. “You have to be wrong.”
I did not have time for my mother’s blind devotion to her children. “My inn is about to be part-owned by Ian Devlin. There is no mistake in that. Now help me or let me get off the phone. Dad, your lawyer wrote the contract. Surely, there’s something we can do.”
“I’ll call him and get right back to you,” he promised.
“I’ll call Vanessa,” Mom said. “I’ll make her change her mind.”
Good luck with that.
After I got off the phone I stared at the wall in the office.
I’d underestimated just how deep my sister’s resentment and dislike for me ran.
It wasn’t all about her weird resentment of me; I knew Vanessa didn’t hate me. The problem with my sister was her selfishness, and her inability to see beyond her own needs. She had no idea what the consequences of her selling her share of the inn to Devlin were because she hadn’t thought about it.
She didn’t want to think about it.
I called my brother. He didn’t answer.
Shit.
I tried again.
And again.
Just when I was about to give up on him calling me back, the phone rang. I snatched it up. “Charlie.”
“Bailey, what’s going on?”
“I—”
My office door swung open, and affection and gratitude rushed through me at the sight of Vaughn. His features were tight, his expression dark, and I knew that he knew.
“Dahlia called. I ran right over. What can I do?” He took my free hand in both of his and raised it to his lips to kiss my knuckles.
I leaned into him. “I—”
“Bailey, are you there?” Charlie asked in my ear.
“I’m on the phone with my brother,” I said to Vaughn.
“What can I do?”
“Nothing.” I squeezed his hand, giving him a sad smile. “But thank you for rushing over here.”
Vaughn frowned. “Surely, there’s something I can do.”
“Dad’s calling our lawyer and I’m just about to tell Charlie about it. He and Vanessa are closer. There’s a possibility he can talk her out of this.”
“Mom and Dad won’t let you do this.” I grasped at straws.
“There’s nothing they can do to stop me. Unlike you, I don’t need their approval.”
“If you do this, none of us will forgive you.”
That made her pause for a moment, her gaze lowering to the floor. “Well, maybe not for a while.” She looked up at me. “They’ll get over it.”
“I won’t.”
Vanessa sneered. “Like I care if you love me. Let’s not pretend anymore, Bails. You and I can’t stand each other.”
“I don’t like you,” I agreed. “I think you’re a selfish brat and this moment only highlights that fact. But I do love you. And the fact that you could do this to me—”
“Oh, please. Enough with your righteous martyr act. You walk around like you’re the only one who works hard. Contrary to what you think, what I’ve had to do to survive has been hard work.”
“Yes, well, working on your back all those long hours can’t be comfortable.”
Mona barked with surprised laughter at my insult and Vanessa sliced her a killing look before turning it on me.
“Did you just call me a prostitute?”
“No, prostitutes are honest members of the oldest profession in the world—they provide sex as a service to men and men pay them for that service. You manipulate men who have money with sex to get to their money. I think that makes you a whore.”
“Bailey,” Dahlia muttered in warning.
But I was so angry I no longer cared what I said to my sister.
“If that was your idea of talking me out of this, then you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
Sadness overwhelmed me. “Vanessa, you have no intention of changing your mind whether I’m sweet and pleading . . . or just damn honest.”
“Yes”—she twisted her face in bitterness—“but hearing you plead would have made my day.”
“You little bitch!” Dahlia let me go and this time I had to hold her back. “You evil little bitch!”
“Don’t,” I murmured to my friend. “She’s not worth it.”
Dahlia whipped around to stare at me, incredulous. “But what about the inn?”
I didn’t know.
But maybe my parents did, or my brother. I strode out of reception, not giving my sister another glance, and as I made toward my office I heard Dahlia say, “You’ve got five seconds to get your boney little ass out of here before I smack the cosmetic enhancements off your face.”
As tears spilled down my cheeks, I tried to soothe the wound my sister had opened in me by reminding myself they may not be blood but my friends were the best sisters a girl could ask for.
Closing the office door behind me, I hurried to the phone.
The words spat out of me in a jumbled, frantic mess and my dad had to ask me to repeat them. His response once I did and did it slower, clearer, was a riot of curse words I didn’t think I’d ever heard my dad use before.
“This can’t be right,” Mom whimpered over the speakerphone. “You have to be wrong.”
I did not have time for my mother’s blind devotion to her children. “My inn is about to be part-owned by Ian Devlin. There is no mistake in that. Now help me or let me get off the phone. Dad, your lawyer wrote the contract. Surely, there’s something we can do.”
“I’ll call him and get right back to you,” he promised.
“I’ll call Vanessa,” Mom said. “I’ll make her change her mind.”
Good luck with that.
After I got off the phone I stared at the wall in the office.
I’d underestimated just how deep my sister’s resentment and dislike for me ran.
It wasn’t all about her weird resentment of me; I knew Vanessa didn’t hate me. The problem with my sister was her selfishness, and her inability to see beyond her own needs. She had no idea what the consequences of her selling her share of the inn to Devlin were because she hadn’t thought about it.
She didn’t want to think about it.
I called my brother. He didn’t answer.
Shit.
I tried again.
And again.
Just when I was about to give up on him calling me back, the phone rang. I snatched it up. “Charlie.”
“Bailey, what’s going on?”
“I—”
My office door swung open, and affection and gratitude rushed through me at the sight of Vaughn. His features were tight, his expression dark, and I knew that he knew.
“Dahlia called. I ran right over. What can I do?” He took my free hand in both of his and raised it to his lips to kiss my knuckles.
I leaned into him. “I—”
“Bailey, are you there?” Charlie asked in my ear.
“I’m on the phone with my brother,” I said to Vaughn.
“What can I do?”
“Nothing.” I squeezed his hand, giving him a sad smile. “But thank you for rushing over here.”
Vaughn frowned. “Surely, there’s something I can do.”
“Dad’s calling our lawyer and I’m just about to tell Charlie about it. He and Vanessa are closer. There’s a possibility he can talk her out of this.”
