You Say It First
Page 57
“What do you mean?”
“Cade’s a boy. Boys inherit.”
“But you don’t care about that. How could you? You had seven daughters.”
He laughed. “Don’t I know it. But your father never got that. He never saw Cade wasn’t interested in the bank at all. Your father decided he would change his mind as he got older. Libby played along. Then your father died.”
Pallas wasn’t sure what to do with the information. On the one hand, she felt bad for her mother. On the other, she was grateful to finally find out why her father had always seemed so absent in her life.
“Do you think the reason Mom is always making me earn stuff is so I don’t get hurt like she did?” she asked.
“You’ll have to take that up with her.”
“Oh, like that will ever happen.” Still it was nice to have some answers, even though they led to more questions.
“How come you never remarried, Grandpa?” she asked.
He winked at her. “I’m a healthy, rich man of a certain age. I loved your grandmother very much and I never looked at another woman while she was alive. But now I’m single and I’m enjoying every minute of it.”
Pallas winced as she tried not to get a visual. “You could have just said you didn’t want to.”
“I’m a big believer in the truth.”
“Maybe you should be a big believer in self-editing.”
He laughed. “Come on. I’ll buy you an ice cream.”
“Can I have a snow cone instead?”
“Of course. You can have anything you want.”
They walked along the river toward the stand. Pallas thought about all she’d learned today. Some of the information changed everything and some of it... Well, she didn’t know what she was going to do about her mother’s past. Not that there was anything to do. But things made more sense now. And maybe in the knowing, there was a chance for something more than they’d had.
* * *
NICK STARED AT the FedEx envelope on his desk. He knew what was inside—the return address in Dubai made that clear. After nearly three months of waiting, a decision had been made. He turned the package over in his hands and realized he didn’t want to know. Didn’t want his life to change. He wasn’t ready to leave Happily Inc.
No. He wasn’t ready to leave Pallas.
He pulled the tab and ripped open the envelope, then pulled out the letter inside. After scanning the first paragraph, he read it again, then a third time. The words were incredibly clear.
Mr. Nicholas Mitchell, we regret to inform you the committee has decided to go in another direction for our hotel installation. I personally wanted your piece, but I was outvoted.
There was more, but none of it mattered. He hadn’t gotten the job. What the hell?
He stood up, then sat back down. He shoved the letter into a drawer, pulled it out, thought about ripping it in two, then put it away again.
He hadn’t gotten the job. How was that possible? Didn’t they realize who he was?
As soon as he thought the question, he started to laugh. Well, damn. He’d just been put in his place. He’d been so sure he would get the commission he hadn’t considered he might not.
Both his brothers were out, so he had the studio to himself. He walked the length of it, thought about channeling his father and smashing a few pieces, but stopped himself before he could do something stupid and self-destructive.
He hadn’t gotten the job. They’d turned down his idea. Did he care? Did it mean anything? Art was subjective, right? It was just...
He’d had everything on hold. He’d been waiting to decide, so he hadn’t committed to a project or direction. He’d been drifting, expecting the answer to come from somewhere else and it had. Just not the way he expected. What was he going to do now?
There were dozens of choices. He could go back to Fool’s Gold. He could stay here. He could move somewhere else. But the bigger question was what was he going to do with his work? Wood? Glass? Not metal—he and Mathias had yet to create anything that wasn’t trash. What about—
What about Pallas? He returned to his chair and sat. Now he didn’t have to leave her. Now he could be with her. They could... Well, they could... He looked around as if the answer was hidden in a corner. They could stay together. Eventually they could...
No. Passion consumed. He couldn’t do eventually or forever or any of those things. He didn’t want to end up like his parents. He didn’t want to destroy what they had or each other. He wanted to be with her, and now he could, only he couldn’t because it was dangerous. He wasn’t willing to take a chance. She wasn’t the problem—he was. He couldn’t trust himself. But if he didn’t make a move, he would lose her forever.
Not knowing what else to do, he drove over to Weddings in a Box and went to work on his panels. At least there he knew what he was doing. He had the feel of the wood. The repairs kept his hands busy as his mind raced like a hamster on a wheel. Eventually it would quiet and he would know.
He used sandpaper to smooth the edges of the long splits running vertically through the panel. He filled the larger ones with tiny slivers of wood cut to fit in perfectly. Each one took all his attention. When the questions became too complicated, he went for something easy, like cleaning the relief, inch by inch. The hours crept by. He counted them by the movement of the sun on the stone floor. When it was nearly dark and his hands ached from the work, he thought maybe it was time to give it a rest. He was no closer to an answer than he had been but—
Pallas burst into the room. She raced toward him.
“Nova called. Tim rallied. He’s not dead. He’s feeling better! The wedding’s back on!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PALLAS COULDN’T CATCH her breath. She was shaking and trying not to scream and jump up and down.
“When I saw Nova’s number on my phone, I almost didn’t answer,” she said as she and Nick sat in her office. “I was so scared. I didn’t want to hear that Tim had died. Then I told myself that made me slime. I mean, come on. I only have to hear it. She has to live it. But it wasn’t bad news.” She bounced in her seat. “This is the best. He’s been getting stronger for a couple of weeks now. I guess there was some experimental medication and at first they thought it had failed, but now it seems to be working, so we have got to pull this together.”
She looked at Nick. “You haven’t said anything.”
“It’s great news. You’re right. We have to make this work. Who should we call first?”
The words were right but there was something strange about him. Not quiet, exactly. Resigned? Was that it? “Are you mad?”
“No. Of course not. It’s great news. I’m happy for them.”
All the right words, but there was something. Regardless, she couldn’t deal with that right now. “We have a million things to do. I want to order a zip line.”
Nick’s brows rose. “Excuse me?”
“Zip line. Yes, that’s what I said. Why not? Nova’s so happy—she said to just go for it. To order anything I thought would make the day special.” Pallas sighed remembering the happy call. “She was so excited and relieved. This is the best. I think there should be a zip line to add a little spice. I think we can run it from the Juliet balcony to the ground. It won’t be that fast or far, but it will make a statement.”
“Cade’s a boy. Boys inherit.”
“But you don’t care about that. How could you? You had seven daughters.”
He laughed. “Don’t I know it. But your father never got that. He never saw Cade wasn’t interested in the bank at all. Your father decided he would change his mind as he got older. Libby played along. Then your father died.”
Pallas wasn’t sure what to do with the information. On the one hand, she felt bad for her mother. On the other, she was grateful to finally find out why her father had always seemed so absent in her life.
“Do you think the reason Mom is always making me earn stuff is so I don’t get hurt like she did?” she asked.
“You’ll have to take that up with her.”
“Oh, like that will ever happen.” Still it was nice to have some answers, even though they led to more questions.
“How come you never remarried, Grandpa?” she asked.
He winked at her. “I’m a healthy, rich man of a certain age. I loved your grandmother very much and I never looked at another woman while she was alive. But now I’m single and I’m enjoying every minute of it.”
Pallas winced as she tried not to get a visual. “You could have just said you didn’t want to.”
“I’m a big believer in the truth.”
“Maybe you should be a big believer in self-editing.”
He laughed. “Come on. I’ll buy you an ice cream.”
“Can I have a snow cone instead?”
“Of course. You can have anything you want.”
They walked along the river toward the stand. Pallas thought about all she’d learned today. Some of the information changed everything and some of it... Well, she didn’t know what she was going to do about her mother’s past. Not that there was anything to do. But things made more sense now. And maybe in the knowing, there was a chance for something more than they’d had.
* * *
NICK STARED AT the FedEx envelope on his desk. He knew what was inside—the return address in Dubai made that clear. After nearly three months of waiting, a decision had been made. He turned the package over in his hands and realized he didn’t want to know. Didn’t want his life to change. He wasn’t ready to leave Happily Inc.
No. He wasn’t ready to leave Pallas.
He pulled the tab and ripped open the envelope, then pulled out the letter inside. After scanning the first paragraph, he read it again, then a third time. The words were incredibly clear.
Mr. Nicholas Mitchell, we regret to inform you the committee has decided to go in another direction for our hotel installation. I personally wanted your piece, but I was outvoted.
There was more, but none of it mattered. He hadn’t gotten the job. What the hell?
He stood up, then sat back down. He shoved the letter into a drawer, pulled it out, thought about ripping it in two, then put it away again.
He hadn’t gotten the job. How was that possible? Didn’t they realize who he was?
As soon as he thought the question, he started to laugh. Well, damn. He’d just been put in his place. He’d been so sure he would get the commission he hadn’t considered he might not.
Both his brothers were out, so he had the studio to himself. He walked the length of it, thought about channeling his father and smashing a few pieces, but stopped himself before he could do something stupid and self-destructive.
He hadn’t gotten the job. They’d turned down his idea. Did he care? Did it mean anything? Art was subjective, right? It was just...
He’d had everything on hold. He’d been waiting to decide, so he hadn’t committed to a project or direction. He’d been drifting, expecting the answer to come from somewhere else and it had. Just not the way he expected. What was he going to do now?
There were dozens of choices. He could go back to Fool’s Gold. He could stay here. He could move somewhere else. But the bigger question was what was he going to do with his work? Wood? Glass? Not metal—he and Mathias had yet to create anything that wasn’t trash. What about—
What about Pallas? He returned to his chair and sat. Now he didn’t have to leave her. Now he could be with her. They could... Well, they could... He looked around as if the answer was hidden in a corner. They could stay together. Eventually they could...
No. Passion consumed. He couldn’t do eventually or forever or any of those things. He didn’t want to end up like his parents. He didn’t want to destroy what they had or each other. He wanted to be with her, and now he could, only he couldn’t because it was dangerous. He wasn’t willing to take a chance. She wasn’t the problem—he was. He couldn’t trust himself. But if he didn’t make a move, he would lose her forever.
Not knowing what else to do, he drove over to Weddings in a Box and went to work on his panels. At least there he knew what he was doing. He had the feel of the wood. The repairs kept his hands busy as his mind raced like a hamster on a wheel. Eventually it would quiet and he would know.
He used sandpaper to smooth the edges of the long splits running vertically through the panel. He filled the larger ones with tiny slivers of wood cut to fit in perfectly. Each one took all his attention. When the questions became too complicated, he went for something easy, like cleaning the relief, inch by inch. The hours crept by. He counted them by the movement of the sun on the stone floor. When it was nearly dark and his hands ached from the work, he thought maybe it was time to give it a rest. He was no closer to an answer than he had been but—
Pallas burst into the room. She raced toward him.
“Nova called. Tim rallied. He’s not dead. He’s feeling better! The wedding’s back on!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PALLAS COULDN’T CATCH her breath. She was shaking and trying not to scream and jump up and down.
“When I saw Nova’s number on my phone, I almost didn’t answer,” she said as she and Nick sat in her office. “I was so scared. I didn’t want to hear that Tim had died. Then I told myself that made me slime. I mean, come on. I only have to hear it. She has to live it. But it wasn’t bad news.” She bounced in her seat. “This is the best. He’s been getting stronger for a couple of weeks now. I guess there was some experimental medication and at first they thought it had failed, but now it seems to be working, so we have got to pull this together.”
She looked at Nick. “You haven’t said anything.”
“It’s great news. You’re right. We have to make this work. Who should we call first?”
The words were right but there was something strange about him. Not quiet, exactly. Resigned? Was that it? “Are you mad?”
“No. Of course not. It’s great news. I’m happy for them.”
All the right words, but there was something. Regardless, she couldn’t deal with that right now. “We have a million things to do. I want to order a zip line.”
Nick’s brows rose. “Excuse me?”
“Zip line. Yes, that’s what I said. Why not? Nova’s so happy—she said to just go for it. To order anything I thought would make the day special.” Pallas sighed remembering the happy call. “She was so excited and relieved. This is the best. I think there should be a zip line to add a little spice. I think we can run it from the Juliet balcony to the ground. It won’t be that fast or far, but it will make a statement.”
