by Lea Coll
When he left, I noticed his work truck parked at the curb, blue with white lettering that read Morrison Construction. There was no mention of a partner. The name didn’t indicate brother or sons, like so many other construction companies. Just Morrison Construction.
Was he alone? Did he not have family? Was that the reason for his sadness? The real question was, why did it matter? He was a potential client. My first client. Whatever his history was, it wasn’t mine. My problems were that of a poor rich girl. Rich in material things all of her life but poor in what mattered—real and true friends, a loving family, care and support from family members versus nannies and teachers.
Even if he looked at me with any interest, which he hadn’t, I didn’t have time for a relationship. I wanted to get the firm off the ground and expand my nonprofit.
“How did it go? Do we have our first real case?” Avery asked from her office as I passed by.
The small cases we’d gotten from the public defender’s office helped us learn the players in the court system, the attorneys and the judges, but we needed more substantial cases to pay the lease. “He’s not sure yet.”
I shouldn’t have told him we didn’t have any clients.
“Of course. I hope we haven’t made a mistake. There are so many established law firms in town that no one would give us a chance.”
Excitement shot through me. “Maybe that’s our answer. We need to seek out new and upcoming businesses versus established ones.”
Avery’s eyes shone with interest. “It’s worth a shot.”
“I promised him an estimate, so let’s go over that.” I wanted to charge enough that we got something, but not too much and he’d go elsewhere. He seemed content with how he’d done things so far. He might decide not to hire anyone and that would be detrimental for his businesses. If word got around that you didn’t have to pay him, he’d be taken advantage of. If he wasn’t already.
Cade needed our help. If he’d never collected on overdue payments, some might be past the statute of limitations. I wanted to help him and his businesses succeed almost as much as I wanted my first client. I didn’t examine the whys of that too carefully.
Avery looked over the estimate we’d put together. “We’ll have to charge more in the future, but for now, we need clients.”
“I agree.” I had a feeling if Cade took a chance on us, I wouldn’t raise his fees.
“So, did you notice anything else about Cade Morrison?” Avery grinned.
“You mean the way he filled out that T-shirt?” I wasn’t immune to the body underneath his clothes.
“I can see why you volunteered to help him.” Avery’s smile was knowing.
“It wasn’t that. I wanted a case. I’m anxious for the firm to be successful.” I didn’t want Avery to think I made decisions based solely on how a client looked, even if Cade had made quite an impression on me.
Avery’s office was so much smaller than the one I had at the U.S. Attorney’s office. I was used to being busy—to the phone ringing with clients’ questions, emails from opposing counsel regarding upcoming trials, and people coming and going. I knew we’d just opened, and we needed to build our clientele, but I wanted it to happen sooner. I wanted this to be a success.
“It’ll take time, but we’ll get there.”
“When does Dylan start?” I asked. I’d interviewed over the phone with both Dylan and Avery. It was their plan to start the firm. They’d offered me a partnership if I could add some money to the pot. I had a fair amount saved since I hadn’t paid tuition or rent.
“She has a couple more weeks.”
She worked at another small law firm and they wanted her to stay longer to help out. My phone buzzed in my purse.
Dad: When are you coming home? I’ve allowed you a couple of months to have your little adventure. Now it’s time to buckle down and be responsible.
I growled at his insinuation that I wasn’t responsible, and at his favorite phrase it’s time to buckle down. I’d heard it so many times.
Hadley: This isn’t a phase for me. I’ve invested money into my law firm. This is what I want to pursue.
“Everything okay?” Avery interrupted my thoughts.
I startled. “Yeah, just my dad butting in where he doesn’t belong.”
“Overprotective parents?” Avery smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. We weren’t especially close. I didn’t know her history.
“The opposite. He wants to control every aspect of my life, but it’s for his benefit, not mine.”
“That sounds rough.” She smiled sympathetically.
My phone buzzed again. “I’d better go take care of this.”
“Good luck.” Avery smiled, turning her attention to her computer screen.
I sat in my desk to look at his message.
Dad: We need to talk. You can’t keep telling me no.
I had nothing else to say. I avoided responding to the next few messages until he called. I had to answer or he’d keep calling. I wouldn’t put it past him to show up here and that was the last thing I wanted. I wanted to be far enough away that he couldn’t drop in to give his opinion on how I was ruining my life and, by extension, his.
“Yes? I’m at work.” Not that he cared. Dad never cared what he was interrupting since he believed his issues were the only important ones.
“I can’t believe you’re wasting your time on some small firm.”
“I’m a partner.” I was proud I was able to invest my savings into it. Even if he’d been the reason I was able to do so.
“A firm with no clients, no reputation, and no business. When you had a perfectly good job offer here, and a proposal from a man from a reputable family.”
“That’s not what I want. Why are you pushing so hard?”
Dad sighed. “I expanded too quickly, and there’s more competition. The business is going under unless I do something about it. I need your help. I need someone I can trust. I don’t want this getting out to the employees or outsiders yet.”
My heart raced. I’d never heard my dad talk about the business not doing well. He was always confident he could overcome any obstacle. The idea that my dad’s business could go under was shocking.
“You need to do this for our family.” This was my father’s authoritative voice, the one he used to get us to do his bidding.
“No. I don’t.” Usually, I’d fall into line because I wanted his approval. As a child, it would mean no lessons, activities, or presents for whatever holiday or birthday was coming up. Now I wasn’t sure what he’d threaten me with. I didn’t live in his apartment building anymore. I didn’t need him to pay tuition or my car payment. He didn’t have any pull in my life that I knew of, but he must have something, or he wouldn’t be pushing this hard. He seemed confident I’d change my mind.
“I might need Layton’s father, Aiden Black, to bail me out.” His voice was low, and his words came out in a growl.
This admission was unlike him. He didn’t like to admit defeat. That made me think he was being honest. He was appealing to me as an equal, which was a foreign feeling.
Or, was Dad appealing to the side of me who’d always longed for his approval and by extension, his love? If he needed me, then he must be proud of me. But I couldn’t forget he’d never made any decisions in my best interest. It was always for him.
We got a private school education because it was a status symbol. We dressed in the best clothes because how we looked reflected on our last name. We went to the best colleges so he could tell his business associates how brilliant we were. I pursued a prestigious job with a title, so he’d be proud of me.
“Aiden Black was willing to invest, but he’s been griping about Layton’s embarrassment over your public rejection. I’d hate to see something like that derail the business.”
Aiden Black was a shark. He circled failing businesses and struck when the owner was at his or her most desperate, offering to bail them out. It was anyone’s guess whether he’d inve
st and help the company or sell it piece by piece. I knew my father would be crushed with the latter option. “Is he? Do you have any guarantee that he would invest and not sell?”
“Yes. I trust him.” His tone was unwavering and firm. “I’ve supported you your whole life and I haven’t asked for anything in return.” I could hear the frustration creep into his voice. He was used to me giving into his demands and my reluctance was trying his patience.
“You haven’t? Because I remember differently.” There were always expectations that came with every expensive dress, gadget, camp, and class. Expectations on how to act, who to be friends with, and who to date. Nothing changed. I moved across the country to escape but I hadn’t. I’d never be free.
Chapter Five
CADE
On Saturday, the early morning sun woke me as it came through the curtainless windows. I got out of bed, not bothering to straighten the covers or make the bed. What was the point when I’d just fall into it exhausted at night? I hadn’t brought any women home. I’d had one hook-up with a woman at a bar, but we’d gone to her place and I’d left right after feeling worse about myself. I hadn’t even thought about another woman seriously until Hadley Winters. What was different about her?
I’d bought this house about a year after Caroline died, to get away from my memories in the old one. It was a fixer-upper I thought I’d renovate in my spare time to take my mind off Caroline. I wouldn’t have time to feel sorry for myself. Now, the lack of time was holding me back, not grief.
A few years ago, I was asked to renovate a home to make it handicapped accessible. The family received a grant from the state that didn’t cover the cost of the entire renovation. I paid for the difference with Caroline’s life insurance. Between that experience and what we went through with Caroline when she was in hospice, the idea for my charity was born, Morrison Construction Rebuilds. It was more than renovations. It was making a home where the family’s lives were manageable.
Now, I had a long waitlist. I wanted to help every single applicant on the list even though it wasn’t realistic. I took on more and more projects. The result was not much time left over in the evening to fix my home. Maybe, I needed to make time for it.
I grabbed a change of clothes before heading to my bathroom to shave and shower. I turned on the water in the shower, with its mildew-covered tiles, turning the knob to warm, allowing the room to steam up before I stepped inside. Maybe it was time to demo this bathroom. Make this home a sanctuary instead of a rest stop.
I wasn’t sure where to start. Instead of creating a personal sanctuary, maybe I could renovate it and sell it. I could move on to the next project without becoming attached to it.
My head lowered and my shoulders slumped as water sluiced over my skin. Maybe it was time for a change. Seeing, Hadley, yesterday had sparked something inside of me. A desire to feel something again.
There was a strange feeling of hope and anticipation tingling under my skin. I told myself it had nothing to do with the possibility of Hadley dropping off the estimate at the studio or her stopping by for a class.
Thinking of Hadley had my cock at half-mast. All I had to do was grip the base, squeeze, and stroke it. The desire was there tingling at the base of my spine and my cock twitched with desire, imagining what Hadley looked like under her tailored suit. I closed my eyes and braced my hand on the shower wall and stroked my cock faster with thoughts of her naked body under mine and her voice crying out my name, until I groaned with my release.
My awareness slowly returned. The water cooled. The wind outside rattled the house and the cold draft filtered through the drafty windows. I took several deep breaths thinking of anything other than the feel of Hadley’s hand in mine or the way her ass looked in her skirt.
I turned off the water and dried off, careful not to look in the mirror. I was afraid of what I might see—a person who wanted to move on and live life again.
I quickly dressed in work-out pants and one of my Hapkido studio T-shirts. I placed my instructor uniform and striped belt in my bag. When I stepped outside, I welcomed the bite of the wind through my flimsy pants and jacket. There was a lot of traffic on the road this morning with the brunch crowd. I parked in front of my studio. I couldn’t resist glancing at the law firm next door as I unlocked the door. The office appeared to be closed.
Maybe I wouldn’t see Hadley today after all. I doubted she’d be working on a Saturday when they had no clients. Maybe she wouldn’t reach out. I’d been reluctant to hire her, so why would she drop off the estimate? She’d move on to more likely clients—ones who wanted her help. I hesitated, my hand on the door, waiting to push it open. Maybe I should have hired her yesterday. Then I’d feel good that I’d taken a step to clean up my businesses and take things seriously. I didn’t have the energy to research someone else.
I finally pushed open the door to the dark studio. I turned on the lights, turning up the heat slightly so that it was warmer but not too hot for class. When children and parents filtered in a few minutes before ten, I picked an older student to run the warm-up and stretches so my mind could wander.
What could I do to increase interest other than using a contract and incentives—summer camp or after school programs? Did I want the responsibility of hiring someone to conduct those for me? Did I want my business to grow in that way, or did I want to keep it small and family-like?
Before Caroline got sick, I’d planned to go into business with my brother, Nolan, but those plans derailed with numerous doctor’s appointments and treatments. Then I was overcome with grief. Maybe, it was time to talk to him about it. If I expanded the construction business, we’d have the ability to take on more projects, including more charity projects.
I shook off my thoughts so I could ease into teaching. Toward the end of class, I knelt on the mat and held a paddle up as the students ran full-speed toward me, executed a front roll, and landed lightly on their feet in front of me in fighting stance. I yelled out the name of the kick and braced myself for the impact on the paddle in my hand. With each thud and “Aye!” the vibration of the impact pierced down my wrist, into my arm and through my body, grounding me.
This is what I’d lived for—kids learning and perfecting each new skill. The confidence in a girl’s eyes when she landed it with such force, my hand flew back a few inches. The pride in a boy’s eyes when he executed a reverse spin kick for the first time. Maybe I wouldn’t have what everyone else desired, a wife or a family, but I had this.
The bell above the door tinkled when I pounded my paddle on the mat three times in succession, the signal for the students to clean up and line-up to wait for more instruction. The kids responded with a series of claps and yelled, “Yes, sir,” in a practiced ritual, I took pride in.
While the students rushed around to fold up mats and hang up the paddles, I turned to see who’d arrived. Hadley Winters stood, elbows on the half-wall between the waiting area and the studio, watching me with interest. Her eyes met mine and she smiled wide, my heart rate picking up, despite the talk I had with myself that I wasn’t ready to feel anything for a woman. I wasn’t ready for the anticipation shooting down my spine, the pounding of blood in my ears, the slickness of my palms. I wasn’t ready.
“Are you here to drop off the estimate?” I stood and turned so that only the half-wall separated us.
“Yes, and to try out a class.”
My eyes traveled over her body, which she’d clothed in a shiny work-out top that looked silky, and black leggings which clung to her body like a second skin. “Let me finish this class and then we can talk.”
I thumped my paddle on the wall to get their attention.
Hadley jumped in surprise. The students stood on the line of tape on the floor.
“Yes, sir,” they yelled, their eyes straight ahead, their backs straight.
I wondered what Hadley thought of the studio. I split them into groups, allowing an older student to take half of the class and I took the other half.
I knelt on the floor as I called each child up to perform a self-defense move based on their belt color. The children’s classes were mixed in ages and abilities, since I’d noticed parents liked dropping off all their kids in one class versus having to attend two or three different classes based on the children’s ages.
I tried to ignore Hadley and focused on the next move, directed each child, praising and correcting when necessary. When everyone had a chance to participate, I lined them up and we went over a few kicks and punches. When it was time for class to end, I broke them off and they ran to their parents.
I followed the kids out to the waiting area. The chatter was loud as they greeted their parents. I waited to talk to any parents or kids who had questions. After everyone trickled out, I turned my attention to Hadley.
She’d shifted her hip resting against the wall as she nodded toward the work-out area. “This is impressive. The kids listen to you. You’re a great teacher.”
Pride flowed through my body at her words. “When I got back into karate a few years ago, I did it for a workout, but the Dojo made me teach. I discovered I was good at it. The kids liked me, and I enjoyed it.”
Hadley tilted her head as if she were listening to each word I said, like what I said was important.
“That’s what made you want to open a studio?”
“Yes.” Between the studio and the handicapped accessible renovations I took on, it allowed me to channel my grief positively.
“I saw a sign on your bulletin board about your charity, Morrison Construction Rebuilds.”
I followed her finger to the bulletin board. “Yeah, that’s something I started after—” I almost said after my wife died, but I stopped myself. “About four years ago. There are small adaptations, like installing a ramp or a chair lift for a senior citizen. I do those for whoever asks. But there are also more complex, full-home renovations for disabled individuals. Right now, I’m only able to take on a couple of home renovations a year. I’d like to do more. That’s why I want to make sure I’m earning whatever I can from the studio and contracting business.”
