by Messer Stone
“Listen,” I say. “About earlier… I’m sorry.”
He looks a bit surprised by my words. “For what?”
“For yelling at you…” I shrug. “For not realizing you were having trouble.”
“Oh.” He sniffs, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, well. I should have told you.”
“We both could have handled the situation differently. Let’s just try to do better from now on, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re back at the house. Parker puts on one of my father’s old aprons— the red one, with the words ‘what’s cookin’ good lookin?’ emblazoned on the front and expertly whips up a batch of tacos. They’re filled with brightly colored fruits and veggies, tomatoes, shredded purple cabbage and perfectly spiced meats. I help him plate the food and when I put the last plate on a tray, he looks at me questioningly.
“For Dad,” I whisper, mindful of the kids waiting at the kitchen table. Parker looks puzzled, a concerned frown furrowing the space between his blonde eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything else. I make quick work of bringing Dad his plate before joining them at the table.
Parker seems to be a total pro with kids. He asks both of my siblings lots of questions about their respective days and manages to get more than five words out of Jason, a feat I’ve never managed to accomplish. In return he answers their firestorm of questions tactfully, patiently explaining the basic parameters of what he does for a living, while Jason and Sophie listen with rapt attention.
After we’re finished, I take Sophie upstairs and get her ready for bed while Jason and Parker take care of the clean-up. When I come back down stairs, they’re no longer in the kitchen.
Instead, I find them in the entryway in front of the mirror on the wall. Parker is standing behind Jason, helping him adjust the perfectly knotted tie at the base of his throat.
“See?” Parker says, shaking Jason gently by the shoulders. “Nothing to it.”
Jason’s smile is eager when he meets Parkers eyes in the mirror. “Will you show me again?”
I stand, leaning against the door jamb as Parker helps him through the process not once, not twice, but three more times.
“Okay I think that’s enough,” I say, starting to fear that I might spontaneously combust from the swell of emotion. “Go upstairs and finish your homework.”
Jason starts to take off the tie around his neck and Parker stops him. “You keep it. Us lady-killers can’t have too many ties,” he says, commemorating the ‘bro-moment’ with a manly fist bump before my little brother heads for the stairs, looking more confident than I’ve seen him in a while.
I’ve only just now realized that Parker is, of course, no longer wearing a tie. Jesus. For some reason, seeing him with yet another of his professional layers removed does funny things to my head. He looks so relaxed like this. His shirt sleeves rolled up, his collar slightly open, his lovely blonde hair a little mussed.
“Can we talk?” he asks, with a smirk that makes it clear that he’s caught me looking at him again.
With burning cheeks, I nod. “Yeah, sure.”
We end up on the front porch swing again, sitting just as close as we did earlier. His arm is draped across the back as we slowly rock back and forth. The early October air is crisp but here, under the blanket of his warmth, I don’t feel a single chill.
“How long has he been like this?”
“Hmm?”
“Your father.”
“Oh.” I blink as the brief moment of peace falls away. “A while. Since the accident, basically.”
“Have you tried getting him to talk to someone?”
I laugh without humor. “He won’t even talk to me.”
A long heavy silence passes.
“I’m going to see Vivian tomorrow.”
I look up at him with a frown. “Vivian… as in my boss, Vivian?”
“As in your former boss, yes.” He levels me with a steely glare. “You will not be working for her anymore.”
“But—”
“No.” His voice sounds like a promise of violence and I’m so taken aback by this change in him that all I can do is stare. “Listen to me, Mercy. I understand why you did what you did. And I don’t judge you for it. Hell, I respect the hell out of you for it. For doing what had to be done for the sake of your family. You may have thought that was your only choice, but it’s not. At least, it’s not anymore.”
Panic laced with anger surges through me. Who does he think he is, ordering me around like that? Does he realize what he’s saying? $30,000 won’t sustain a family of four for more than a little while. With my GED, it’s impossible for me to get a decent job. Does he expect me to support Jason and Sophie and my father on a minimum wage salary?
“Parker—”
“My office has already drawn up a formal offer, all you have to is accept.”
The world falls out from beneath me. “I’m sorry, what?”
“As my intern. It’s a full time position and we offer excellent health benefits. Jason and Sophie will be covered as your dependents. We can arrange home care for your dad during the day, if you think he needs it. You’ll learn the business from me and you’ll have real world experience to put on your college applications, when you’re ready to go back to school.”
My brain tries to process what he’s saying, but nothing makes sense. “Parker, that’s insane.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not qualified. I’m nowhere near good enough for a job like that. I didn’t… I didn’t even graduate high school.” The grief for my squandered dreams is obvious in my voice. I look down, humiliation darkening my cheeks. “Don’t make me your charity case.”
He tilts my chin up with his finger and the gesture is so reminiscent of the first time he touched me that it makes me gasp. His eyes are a wild fire now, tearing through forests and mountains, blazing ripples of amber and gold. The fact that I’m the sole focus of all that passion makes my chest quake.
“Mercy Meghan Chase,” he says, and I’m so caught up, I don’t even think to ask how he knows my middle name. “You listen to me, and you listen good. If you ever, ever, refer to yourself as a charity case again, I swear to God I will lose my mind. Do I need to remind you who you are? Of what you’ve accomplished?” He huffs out an incredulous laugh. “You were 18 years old, grieving the loss of your mother, and you saved your family from financial ruin. You sacrificed everything to make it happen and to my knowledge, you haven’t complained once.” He points at the house. “Those kids have essentially lost both of their parents. And they’re okay. They’re better than okay. They’re happy and well-adjusted. They have everything they need. Because of you.”
My eyes are welling with tears as he takes my face in his hands. “Some people move mountains but sweetheart, you just blew the mountains into smithereens and didn’t look back. You’re not a fucking charity case. You’re a force of nature.”
I feel like an old timey cartoon character who’s just been hit over the head with a giant mallet. Stars are spinning around above me, hearts twirling in my eyes.
“Take the job, Mercy.”
I swallow several times. “But what if… if… “ I close my eyes and take a breath. “Someone could find out about me— about how we met.”
Something dark flashes across his eyes. “That won’t happen. I guarantee it.”
I shake my head, overwhelmed. “Parker…”
“Trust me.” His face is imploring. “Just say yes.”
The word is out of my mouth before I decide to say it.
“Yes.”
CHAPTER 12
Parker
The next morning, I sit in my dining room going over Mercy’s brand new employee file. Somehow, the thought of her being a part of my day-to-day life is more potent an energizer than my cup of coffee.
“Go ahead and start looking for in-home care options,” I say to Miles when he walks in the room. As my personal valet, he handles most o
f my personal matters and some of my professional ones. “I don’t want Mercy to be distracted worrying about her father. And we’ll need to find someone who can look after the children until she gets home in the evenings.”
“I’ll get on that right away.” He nods and then pauses, hesitant. “Sir, your sister is on her way up.”
I bite back a smile at the sheer terror he’s trying and failing to hide from his face. “You can go and hide if you’d like.”
He lets out a huge, relieved breath. “Thank you, sir.”
“Coward,” I mutter under my breath as I watch him scurry off.
Two minutes later, I hear the elevator doors open.
“Can I take your coat ma’am?” asks the poor, unsuspecting elevator attendant.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you, you perv.” The click of her heels and the sound of her voice both get louder as she walks towards the dining room.
“No. Absolutely unacceptable.” She sweeps into the room with a cell phone pressed to her ear. “I’ve given you more than enough time. There’s absolutely no excuse for you to miss this deadline. Don’t call me again until you have a finished product.”
She pauses, listening. “Alright. Yeah. Love you too. I’ll see you at home.”
She drops the phone in her purse and smiles brightly at me, before untying the belt of her cashmere coat. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem.” I stand to kiss her cheek. “How is Spencer?”
She rolls her eyes as she shrugs off the coat and settles into the chair across from mine. “Uncooperative, as always. He’s being all wishy-washy about his half of the guest list.”
“I’m surprised you’re letting him have a say in the wedding at all.”
Shooting me a glare, she flips her dark blonde hair over her shoulder. “I can be very accommodating. Kind of like I was earlier this morning when you demanded I clear my very busy schedule and rush right over here.”
“Right. Yes. About that.”
I tell Lorelai everything, I always have. And that’s mostly because Lorelai can always, without fail, tell when I’m lying or holding back information. Maybe it’s a twin thing, I don’t know. That being said, there’s no one I trust more in the world.
As I predicted, her reaction when I spell out the situation with Mercy is one of fierce compassion.
“Oh, my God.” Lorelai puts a hand on her chest, her green eyes wide with sympathy. “That poor girl.”
She looks at me and a wave of disgust shadows her face as she sneers, “Men.”
I raise my hands in defense. “Hey! I told you I didn’t sleep with her.”
“You’re saying that you, a thirty year old man passed on the chance to take advantage of a scared and vulnerable nineteen year old girl in a desperate situation?” she deadpans. “We should give you a medal.”
Touché. “Can we focus please?”
“Right. How can I help?”
This brings me to why I asked Lorelai to rush over. My mother and her brother, Oliver, are the sole heirs to Bolton’s, one of the country’s oldest and most profitable department store chains. Mother, however, has never had a mind for business.
And Oliver is, well, Oliver. For the past few years, Lorelai has been at the helm, using her sense of style and fashion along with her shrewd business mind, to lead Bolton’s into the future.
“Mercy had to sell all of her nice clothes to pay her family’s bills. She’s going to start working with me at the office in a few days and I want her to feel confident.
My sister puts a hand up. “Say no more. I’ll get her good and decked out. Where am I meeting her?”
“The 42nd Avenue store at 10 am.”
“Got it.” She pauses, biting her heavily glossed bottom lip. “I probably shouldn’t have to say this because it’s so obvious, but you’re a man so I’m gonna spell it out for you.”
She leans forward in her chair, her eyes deathly serious as they lock on mind. “You can’t let anyone find out about how you two met.”
I jerk back, horrified that she would think that needed to be said. “Of course not. Do you think I’m a complete lunatic?”
“No. I think you’re a man who doesn’t know what it can be like for a woman when people start talking. And people are going to talk. You’re bringing this girl in from out of nowhere to work at your right hand. People will speculate. And if you give them a reason to, they’ll be suspicious.”
“What are you saying?”
“Look, you have a huge heart and I love you for it. And it’s plain as day that you care a lot about this girl. But people who don’t know you like I do who will get the wrong idea. They might do some snooping around and—”
“No one is going to leak this to the press. I would never let that happen.”
“It’s not the press you should be worried about, idiot.” She gives me a meaningful look. “Can you imagine what Dad would do if he found out?”
Everything inside me goes cold. That can’t happen. That won’t happen. Not while I’m breathing.
“I know what I’m doing, Lorelai,” I say in a low, flat voice.
She considers me for a long moment and then, in typical Lorelai fashion, she throws me a curve ball. “How was Miami?”
I pause with a cup of coffee half-way to my mouth. See? No point in trying to hide anything from her.
“Quick,” I say before taking a sip.
“You can’t go running every time she calls, you know.”
I don’t respond. Instead I take my cloth napkin out of my lap and toss it on the table.
“I’m late for a meeting.” I stand and button my suit jacket. “I’ll call in a few hours to check on things.”
I kiss her on the top of the head before I walk out the door.
* * * *
In her late fifties, Vivian Penngrove is the picture of refined English elegance when I find her in the living room of her Fifth Avenue apartment. Her frosty blonde hair is pinned back as she lounges on a settee, wearing a cashmere sweater set.
At my approach, she looks up from her newspaper. “Ah, Mr. Callahan. Right on time.”
I don’t bother to hide the contempt from my face as I look at the women who tried to sell Mercy like some kind of sex toy. “Did you look over the agreement?”
She nods, plucking her spectacles off the bridge of her nose. “I did.”
She snaps her fingers and a man appears, handing me the file folder.
“You understand the terms then? You erase every mention of Ms. Chase from your records. As far as you’re concerned, she’s never worked for you. If anyone asks you about her, you’ve never heard the name before in your life. Delete her number. Never contact her again.”
She nods and waves her hand, like we’re discussing something trivial. “Yes, yes fine.”
I pull at my phone and send a quick text to my lawyer, indicating that he should initiate the wire transfer of $500,000 to Ms. Penngrove’s account— the amount we offered, in exchange for total non-disclosure.
“You really didn’t have to go through all that trouble you know,” she says in her prim British accent as she sips from a porcelain tea cup. “I never release the information of girls that work for me.”
“Forgive me if I’m not comfortable taking your word for it. I’m a man who likes assurances.”
A text comes through on my phone. It’s from my lawyer. The transfer is complete.
“There.” I pocket my phone. “It’s done.”
I turn to leave. “Tell Mercy she’ll always have work here, if she needs it.”
Fury boils up in me and I round on her. “Ms. Chase will never have anything to do with you, or your disgusting business ever again. You can count on that.”
I storm away from her, but I only make it halfway across the room before she speaks again, stopping me in my tracks.
“The first time my father raped me, I was four years old.”
When I turn around to look at her, she stands, smoothing out the cashm
ere of her sweater.
“He did it again, every day, until I was twelve. I was too old for him to find me attractive anymore, so he sold me to a friend of his who preferred pre-pubescents. That man ended up being my first pimp.”
She walks towards me as I watch, unable to speak. “You say what I do is disgusting. And you’re right. But let’s say I stop. What do you think happens? Do you think the problem goes away? If I were to close up shop tomorrow, I would be leaving my girls at the mercy of every pimp in Manhattan. Pimps who would abuse them. Beat them and rape them. Take most of what they earn. Get them hooked on drugs.”
She lifts her chin in defiance. “You want to save Mercy from this world, fine. I don’t begrudge it. On the contrary, I celebrate it. But don’t you dare condemn me for looking after the ones who get left behind.”
CHAPTER 13
Mercy
“Woah, woah, woah.”
Elena is sitting at the breakfast bar, leaning forward on her elbows as she rubs her temples. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. The guy who was gonna pay you for ultra kinky virgin sex is the same one who gave you this job?”
“A little louder, Elena, I don’t think the kids heard you!” I hiss with one eye on the stairs. “And Parker didn’t pay for anything. It was his uncle. And we— well, he—” I shake my head. “It’s complicated, alright?”
“Right,” she says, skeptically.
“Okay, could you maybe stop judging me?”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“Look.” I run a hand over my forehead and steal a glance at the oven clock. It’s six in the morning which means Sophie will be up any minute. “I know this whole thing is bizarre. But Parker is great. Really. He’s so up-front and honest and kind and he’s just… he’s so good, you know? I mean, you should have seen him with the kids…”
I trail off when I become aware of the dreamy tone of my voice. Elena is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. Shaking my head, I try to blink the little hearts out of my eyes. “He’s a good guy, alright? I trust him. And this job could really turn things around for us.”
