by S. A. Wolfe
My instinct is to turn around and look over my shoulder for Talia, thinking I will see her nearby so I can discuss these concerns with her. I could just as well share these ideas with Harmony, shore up our developing friendship, but I don’t.
Harmony is reserved throughout our stay. She appreciates the lavish hotel and the five-star service, but she isn’t dazzled the way Finn is. She takes notes on the houses she visits and asks detailed questions about the public and private schools in the particular areas. Then she insists I accompany them to see a home for sale in a prestigious neighborhood the realtor is aggressively encouraging.
It has five bedrooms, a swimming pool, an outdoor kitchen for parties, and too many rooms for three people, along with a seven million dollar price tag. It’s a renovated showplace, and I’d buy it on the spot, but Harmony gives a firm “No, we need to discuss this.” I don’t get excited about houses, or worse, renovating them. Nevertheless, I do see Finn’s reaction, and it adds to my motivation. I would like to be a parent who can give him this if it will make him happy.
Am I threatened by Harmony’s wealth and the fact that she has provided Finn with a high standard of living? Probably. Because she also has full custody of Finn. How do I compete with that? By becoming a superstar with Bourdain-Torrance and raking in the big bucks.
Back at the hotel, over fast-food bags since we decided we were all tired of delicately designed dishes and heavy cream sauces, Harmony shares her notes with me.
“What were you thinking? You almost made an offer on that house.” she says in the living room portion of the suite. Finn is out of earshot in the master bedroom, watching a movie and feasting on fish tacos.
“It’s a great house. Good school district. I thought it had all the things we need.”
“Need? No one needs a seven million dollar home.”
“If it’s the money, it would come from my sign-on bonus.”
“I have enough money to buy four of those houses!” she whisper-shouts angrily.
“You do?”
“Peyton! It’s not the money. It’s the idea of living in that home. Did you think we’d all live there together? Because I don’t see that happening.”
“Oh, right. I’m jumping the gun. I don’t really know what you want, but that house seemed like a good start.”
“Really? You think that little enclave of homes we saw is the perfect place for Finn? You picked the most expensive home out of all the ones Finn and I have seen. You also picked the neighborhood where we didn’t see a single person of color. Except for the gardeners. This isn’t like Brooklyn. We keep seeing homes in the least diverse parts of the city.”
“You moved Finn to Westchester. It’s not as diverse as Brooklyn either.”
“Our neighborhood is, and so is his school there.”
“Shit, don’t be so pissed off. I’m sorry I liked the house. It won’t happen again. You choose the house and the school. I’ll go along with whatever you think is best for Finn.”
“I thought that’s what I was doing when I moved him back to New York. I thought living near you and letting him get to know his cousins and family in Hera and Brooklyn was the best thing for Finn. I agreed to this trip because I thought you were networking, building your relationship with Danny. I didn’t believe for a minute that you’d drop everything in New York and move here. But the longer we’re here, the crazier you seem.”
I shove aside my unfinished tacos. “How so?”
“I don’t recognize you.” She shakes her head. “I thought it was a good decision to move to New York, so Finn could have a relationship with you and your huge family. It’s everything he wants. It wasn’t easy to reach out to you. It felt like a great risk. I didn’t know what kind of person you’d be now, but after some research on you, I had to take that risk, for Finn’s sake.”
“Oh, that’s right. You were spying on me. And Talia.”
“I was doing what anyone in my position would do—making sure you were fit to be a parent. Making sure I wasn’t putting Finn or me in danger.”
“Danger?”
“I didn’t know you, Peyton. You could have changed completely since high school. You could have been a hotheaded prick who wanted nothing to do with a kid. And I have money. My father made a point of teaching me how to protect it. It’s also why he didn’t let me inherit a dime until I was finished with graduate school.”
“You thought I’d go after your money?” I raise my voice.
“I wouldn’t have moved to New York if I thought that, but it was something to consider. You were already doing well on your own, so it wasn’t really a concern. But I’m a safety girl now. I was so young when I had Finn, and I was completely dependent on my father. I never want to be in such a vulnerable position again. I wasn’t going to put Finn or myself at risk.”
“And neither of you are at risk,” I snap. Suddenly, I feel like she’s the nagging wife I never wanted. “I haven’t changed. I haven’t done anything wrong. You’re the one who kept Finn from me for a decade!”
“We’re not going to have a fight over the past. I already admitted I was complicit when I went along with my father’s demands to keep you away from Finn. But this LA thing is all on you! It’s a stupid idea!”
“Stop fighting!” Finn shouts from the doorway of the bedroom suite.
Harmony raises her hand to her mouth and looks at him apologetically. “Honey, we’re sorry. We’re having a little disagreement. Everything is fine, though.”
Finn’s face is bunched up in anger, and he looks like he’s about to cry. “The best place for me to live is where you two don’t fight!” With that, he runs back to the bedroom.
I move to stand up, wanting to go after him.
“No.” Harmony points furiously at me to sit back down. Then she closes the French doors to the bedroom with a gentle click. “Let him be alone. We’ll talk to him when he’s ready.”
“You pick the neighborhood and house. I’ll let you choose.”
“No. Dammit, Peyton!” she whispers. “You’ve been walking around LA with your head full of dollar signs. You’ve been looking at this from your point of view. It’s all about your success.”
“You agreed to come. You knew I was being offered a job here.” I keep my voice lower than hers. She has the advantage; Finn has been with her and on her side for his whole existence.
Harmony looks back at the bedroom doors to make sure Finn can’t hear. Then she sits on the chair opposite me with the coffee table between us. She huddles down with her elbows on her knees and fidgets with her bracelets. “Do you realize you haven’t smiled once on this trip?” she asks. “Danny and Merrick have shown you this glamorous lifestyle, beautiful houses, expensive restaurants, and they make it look easy, as if everyone lives on the beach and has time to surf all day. I don’t believe all the hype they’re dumping on you. I think the work would be long hours, and you know better than anyone that this business requires a relentless devotion and the expectation that many things will go wrong.”
“You don’t need to tell me how my business works. I’ve been doing this since I was a teenager, and I work my ass off.”
“Yes, you do. But what I took away from the last few days is that you never once looked happy. You never cracked a smile, Peyton. Not even when we took Finn skateboarding at Venice Beach or when he was learning how to surf at Danny’s place. If that doesn’t make you smile … I have to question why you’re doing this.”
Hearing her say these things makes me feel hollow inside. She thinks I’m shallow and selfish. How can she not see I’m doing all this for Finn? He’s the only thing making me feel rooted to anything substantial. Whatever I had in New York, aside from the family business, I lost.
“I’m doing this for Finn. For all of us. This position with Bourdain-Torrance will make my career skyrocket. I’ll have the means to provide Finn with every opportunity.”
“You already have the means to provide well for Finn. You’re already a success.
More money and fame won’t make you a better father. If you’re worried about your father and uncle—I know about the money problems with their first business—you are solid enough to take care of them as well.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I don’t want to move here. This isn’t the best place for Finn. He’s better off in New York, where all his family lives. He wants to get to know his cousins and aunts and uncles better. He wants the fishing trips with Grandpa Stu, the sleepovers with the cousins, the family dinners with you and your siblings. He goes to a great school, and he’s made friends. If you take this job, you’re going to make Finn start all over again, and no matter how many new friends he makes here, he won’t have his family. They’ll be thousands of miles away.
“And just because my dad left me money doesn’t mean I don’t want to work. My career is important to me, too. I didn’t spend all those years in college and graduate school to spend my days at the beach. I’d have to get a new job, too. It’s not just about you, Peyton.”
“Why didn’t you say this before we flew out here?”
“Because I didn’t think you’d actually want to go through with this. I thought this trip would be a nice little vacation with Finn, and you’d come to your senses and realize you’ve got it made in Hera.”
“Finn can see my family anytime. We’ll have the use of Bourdain’s company jet to fly back and forth every month if we want, so Finn will see plenty of the MacKenzies. And I’ll have the means to fly them out here for extended stays with us.”
“God, you are infuriating.” Her nostrils flare, and I picture us arguing like this for many years to come.
“Career-wise, I can’t do much more in Hera. I’m not a small-town guy, and our restaurants in New York are running fine without me. Career opportunities like Bourdain’s are unicorns, and this is a huge one. I’d be a fool to turn it down. This has been a dream, a goal of mine.”
“Goal? Who gives a flying fuck about goals? I’m not moving Finn to LA for your goals.”
“What do you want me to say?” I ask, defeated.
“I want you to admit it’s better for Finn, for you, for all of us to stay in New York. I want you to turn down this job.”
“I can’t. I already accepted Danny’s offer.”
Peyton
HARMONY TAKES FINN BACK to Westchester and says she’ll call in the next few days to talk. She was still giving me the silent treatment when we landed at Newark airport—on our commercial flight since Harmony refused the Bourdain jet this time. Finn was still unhappy with the tension between his parents. We haven’t told him that I accepted the job and that we won’t be going there together.
I remember what it’s like to be a little soldier between two fighting parents. I went through something similar when my mother had an affair, then my father had his own, and then they divorced. I survived the deep freeze between them, but only because they decided to live in houses directly across the street from one another so their five children could keep their own lives and friends intact. We could sleep at either home, and I would run back and forth between each house throughout the day to raid the better-stocked kitchen or to find a television or computer that was free. It became even easier and almost normal when my parents became friends again. Unfortunately, Finn doesn’t have siblings he can share his parents’ drama with, and I’ve only been part of his life for a few months. His devotion is to his mother.
Going back to Hera is daunting.
Aleska’s team kept my home spotless while I was gone. I walk around the house and assess how long it will take to pack up my personal belongings for a move. Fifteen minutes by my estimate. That’s how little I’ve invested here, other than Finn’s room.
I approach his bedroom with hesitation. I haven’t convinced myself that I can change Harmony’s mind, and even if I can, I may have damaged my relationship with Finn forever.
As I enter, a flood of emotions assaults me. The happy memories this room brings settle into a mixture of remorse, darkened by uncertainty. It’s the most personal room in the house. I think back to when Talia helped me paint it and turn it into a special place fit for a curious young boy.
As I sit on the bed, a horrible sensation strikes me. This room is like visiting the grave of the son I’ve lost.
I bolt from the room, jump in my truck, and drive to Swill.
Adam Knight is the first person I see. His back is to me, and as I pull into a parking spot next to his car, I see Talia looking up at him, smiling.
I get out of my truck and look through the cab at them.
Adam turns when I slam my door. “Hey, MacKenzie. How was LA? Productive?”
A long strand of Talia’s hair blows across her face. She tucks it behind her ear as she looks at me, too.
“It was good,” I reply. I should head inside the restaurant, but seeing them together unnerves me. I don’t like it. I want to know what they’re discussing. Another date? Is she spending nights at his place now? I hate how I feel and sound when I see them together, but I don’t do the wise thing and move on. “What are you up to?” I fake nonchalance.
“I’m giving Talia advice on her plan to develop that old Pickwick estate.”
“Jesus, you’re really pursuing that money pit?” I say to her. I hear how condescending I sound. Nothing like Adam’s upbeat, supportive optimism. No wonder she’s more interested in him.
“It’s actually a great idea, and the financials are workable,” Adam explains. He looks like Mr. Cool Diplomacy. He’s got on a pair of those expensive designer jeans that are overly distressed to make rich dudes look like they do hard labor, and a T-shirt that shows off his gym body. Sunglasses are perched on his head, and he’s sporting a tan, either from driving his convertible or maybe taking long weekends in tropical locations. Normally, I don’t notice these things about other men, but I notice every detail about Adam, because he is with the only woman whom I’m interested in. He is exactly what Talia is looking for, and I’m an idiot to think I could have ever competed with him.
Talia glares at me, challenging me to make more disparaging remarks to pop her fantasy bubble about her dream farm and inn.
I end the uncomfortable situation by tossing my keys and catching them in my fist. “Well, I need to get to work.”
Talia turns to Adam. “I have to get going, too. A lot of deliveries tonight. But thank you for the information.”
“Make my place your last stop. I can throw together some spreadsheets for you before you get there, and we can go over them. Over dinner. Sound good?”
“Really? You have time for that?”
“Absolutely. It’s no problem. I’ll call Archie and get the numbers on the cost of the estate. I want to know what the property taxes are, and then I’ll put together some estimates for you on what the total buildout would be, and the operating costs, and what you can expect as a profit margin—assuming the numbers work in your favor. But I’ll make them work.”
I can’t listen to this guy’s sales pitch anymore. What a bunch of bullshit.
I throw open the front door to Swill. My boots pound on the floor, echoing throughout the empty dining hall. I’ll make them work. Like he’s some fucking financial wizard. He may run a hedge fund, but that doesn’t make him a fucking money god. Even Wall Street gurus have taken major stumbles in the market.
“Hello to you, too. You look like someone shit on your Froot Loops,” Bash says when I enter the kitchen.
“Hi,” I grumble. My phone rings, and I reach in the back pocket and check the display. It’s Danny. He doesn’t waste time.
“Hey, Danny,” I say and throw Bash a look that says this call is the most important thing in my life.
Bash shakes his head and grabs a crate of fresh vegetables, which he takes to the walk-in fridge.
“I emailed you the details on the Vegas property, and I want to know if you could fly out next week to do a walk-through with the real estate agent,” Danny asks.
Bash
emerges from the fridge, studying me with nothing short of contempt. When did we become this? He’s been my best friend since we were kids. Out of everyone I know, Bash has always been on my side. He’s supposed to be behind me, us, one hundred percent on this big move and career change.
“Yeah, I can be there. Next Wednesday. And then I want to go back to the other Santa Monica property. I think we need to move fast and make an offer on it soon. I could have shovels in the ground on the Vegas lot in less than six months, but Santa Monica has more red tape involved.”
Bash rests his palms on the worktable separating us. He leans his weight into it and stares at me as I finish the call with Danny.
I shove my phone back in my pocket. “How have things been around here?”
“Perfect. Said I could handle it, and I did.” His lips form a thin, tight line. He wants to say more.
I can tell when Bash is holding back his temper. When we were kids, he couldn’t control it and would be the first to jump on any guy who tried to mess with us at school or bullied him personally with racial slurs. He heard every derogatory remark about Native Americans, but by his twenties, he moved on from physical altercations and started using his knowledge about his Lenape heritage to put racist commenters in their place.
“Good. And how’s Greer doing running the front?”
“Get to the point. From the sound of that phone call, it sure sounds like you’re working for Bourdain. When did you decide this?”
“Why are you so angry? This was our plan. He made an exceptional offer, and I accepted while I was there. They have a very good package on the table for you, too. I’d like you to fly to LA with me next Wednesday so you can see for yourself.”
