by Mj Fields
“Get rid of those tenants and take your house back.”
“I’m going to cry,” I admit.
“I wish I could hug you.”
“You just did.”
“See you in two weeks?”
“With a fedora on.”
When I hang up the phone, I cover my face and cry.
“Everything okay, babe?” Eric asks, hurrying toward me.
I nod. “Just got a raise, and now I can let my tenants go.”
He hugs me. “I’m happy for you. You work your ass off and deserve it. And I can’t wait to christen every one of those rooms.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Eric
Lying in my bed in the pool house, I feel a calmness within the gates of the estate for the first time in forever.
Dad’s on the road to recovery, finally. Until he received the bonus, he was a miserable fuck.
I don’t agree with the spot he put his family in, and I will forever be in charge of my own accounts and pay attention to what documents I sign. And yes, it’s a shit lesson to learn in the way I did, but a lesson, nonetheless.
A lesson for him, too, I suppose. I would hope so, anyway.
While going over his financial statements, I realized, if he hadn’t donated to the university’s new sports facility, which is a fancy and legal term for buying his son, a half-ass player, a spot on the team, he wouldn’t have been in as grave a position. Still pisses me off that he did it, but I get a man wanting what’s best for his kids. I just hope, after our fallout, he realizes what’s best for me and the others is him being part of what he created, and not blowing smoke up my ass.
I haven’t harped on him at all about it. I want him to recover. I want him to be who Shells seems to remember or has created him to be in her imagination. Either way, it’s working for them both.
I just know if he fucks up, I am going to have to step in again.
Shelby’s mom is in rehab, and from what I’ve read and heard from Shelby, it’s a good one. If things go well, she’s going to get out in time for Christmas. Now Shelby and Dad are looking for a place in the Hamptons where they can live closer to them.
I miss her being out here in the pool house, but when Dad finally came home, she moved right back in. And Suzy, well, she tiptoes around her. I still don’t get why, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak.
Shelby is at my old school and is doing well. No black eyes and, as far as I know, no illegal shit. She’s on what most consider the right side of the track, but honestly, it holds as many problems as the other side. It’s just painted prettier.
Today is the first Thanksgiving I can remember where there has been no fighting over mealtime and whose holiday it is. All of us are here. I’m sure ninety percent of it is Kimmi not being around, due to rehab, to change plans every five seconds, and ten percent because of Dad’s health.
I hit Autumn’s name in my contacts and decide to FaceTime her.
When she answers, she holds the phone to her ear like she’s taking a call. “Morning.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, gorgeous. We’re on FaceTime, babe; let me see you.”
She gasps, and then the line goes dead.
I hit the callback button and am declined.
When I call her, she answers, “First, Happy Thanksgiving. Next, don’t do that FaceTime with me, Eric. For God’s sake, I’m in bed.”
“Which was the point.” I laugh. “I would love to see you in your childhood bed.”
She sighs. “That’s silly.”
“What’s silly, gorgeous, is you not wanting me to see you in bed. You know how many times I’ve seen you wake up? You’re the cause of morning wood.”
“Is that so?”
“I hear the smile in your voice and want to see it.”
“That’s very sweet.”
“Then why do you sound sad when you say it? It’s a good thing, Autumn. We’re a good thing.”
When she doesn’t say anything, I ask, “You fall back to sleep?”
When she doesn’t reply, I laugh. “Sleep, babe. We’ll talk later.”
I sit up and run a hand over my face. She’s been a different kind of odd lately. She’s busy, really busy, but fuck, it’s been two weeks since we’ve seen each other and, although she’s worth the wait, I miss the hell out of her.
I get a sick feeling in my stomach. Something’s off.
I hit the Snap app and check her location.
“What in the actual fuck?”
It says she’s home, but she was supposed to go to her folks for the holiday, which was her excuse for blowing me off from Wednesday to Monday.
Nope, fuck that.
I hit FaceTime again and call her back. When she answers, I pay special attention to the screen and see her fucking bedding.
“Sorry.” She sighs. “I fell asleep.”
“Where?”
“What?” She laughs.
“You alone, Autumn?” I accuse.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I know you’re not down south with your family. I know you’re in your own bed. This is FaceTime again, and I’d recognize that burgundy duvet anywhere. So, one more time, are you alone?”
She holds the phone out so I see her. “Yes, thank God, because I feel like shit and—”
“Babe, what’s going on? You have a fever? A cold? I know the flu’s going around—”
“No, Eric, I’m fucking exhausted and just want to sleep for four days straight, okay? I’m old—”
“You’re thirty-four, Autumn; you’re not old.”
“Well, try keeping up with a frat boy and running a company and missing your best friend and your Natasha. I feel nine hundred years old, okay?”
“You just saw your best friend and your Natasha in Paris, so try again.”
“You know what? This is ridiculous, it’s exhausting, and I am too old to play games and—”
“I’m not playing games with you, Autumn, so what’s this really about?”
“I miss my alone time.”
I nod, biting back everything I want to say to her right now, things like, take all you want, I’m fucking exhausted, too, but I address the bite that’s actually bleeding.
“So, you lied to me?”
“I was supposed to go, but then things came up, so no, I didn’t lie. I just didn’t inform you of my change in plans.” The way she says it is in a completely detached manner, making me realize it can and will happen again.
“Autumn...” I pause because, if not, I’m going to take what I’ve learned in two and a half years of schooling, mixed with a lifetime of trying to figure people out, which will mean dick to her right now.
She looks away from the phone.
“Let me know when you want to spend time with me.
Let me know when you decide you’re worth it.”
Her eyes snap back to the phone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means exactly what I said.”
She shrugs and diverts her eyes again.
“Don’t do this to yourself.”
She looks back at me and scowls.
“Get some rest, gorgeous.”
I don’t wait for a reply that I know I won’t get. I hang up the phone and sit up, looking around the space that is as empty as my fucking heart right now, and then I flop the fuck back down in bed.
She’s so fucking frustrating.
Along with Shelby, Daisy, Daniel, and several YouTube videos, we cooked the first turkey I can remember being cooked in this house by family. We made mashed potatoes, stuffing from a box, fucked up the gravy really good, and managed to make a pumpkin pie that looked like shit — but thanks to Daniel adding to the sugar measurement — tasted pretty damn good. Thankfully, Dad was shooed back into the family room by Shelby, who has taken over the role of house hen. And I...I make sure I’m focused on what I can be a part of and what I can positively impact.
I watch as S
helby chews on her nails then reach over and bat them away from her mouth. “Bad habit, Shells.”
“Could be worse.” She shrugs.
“Like what?” I joke.
“I don’t know. Sleeping with a married woman?” She arches an accusatory brow at me.
“You think I’m sleeping with a married woman?” I laugh.
“Well, she doesn’t come around us.”
“She’s not married, Shelby. She’s a busy woman.”
“I mean, I get it. This family is embarrassing.” She nods toward the tribe scattered around the room.
“It’s not embarrassing at all.” I mess up her hair.
“Is she gross?”
“What?” I laugh.
“Well, why wouldn’t you bring her around? She’s all you think about, besides underwear and school.”
I lean over and get closer to her face. “She’s stunning, but busy. And you, Shells, pushed me to do the underwear thing.”
“Well, we needed it.”
“Team Cartwright.” I fist pump the air, and then I hear Dad chuckle from the recliner, where I thought he was sleeping.
She pats my head. “Don’t get too carried away, EJ.”
Dad and I both laugh.
Suzy walks into the room, carrying her tablet. “Black Friday shopping tomorrow. Any requests?”
“Just one,” Dad says, sitting up. “Don’t buy shit we don’t need.”
Shelby looks at me, eyes wide, and tries not to grin when she asks, “You busy tomorrow?”
Not anymore, I’m not, I think to myself.
“Nope, weekend-free.”
“No going into the city?” Dad looks at me from over his glasses.
“No.”
“Take me to Beacons Closet? They’re having a sale.”
“A sale, huh?”
She nods.
“You have a grand to spend.”
“I what?” she gasps.
“Phillip added it to my deposit, specifically for the young woman who negotiated the contract.”
“No way!”
“Way.” I wink.
“That underwear thing paying decent then?” Dad asks.
“No,” Shelby and I both answer in unison.
I watch as she looks through her phone. Daisy is sitting on the armrest of Dad’s chair, and Daniel is watching the game.
“Where’s Suzy and the kids?”
Dad looks over. “You pick your battles, son. She wanted two nannies; she has one.”
“On a holiday?”
“Yep,” he states simply.
When she walks back in the room with her tablet in hand, I just look at him, and he shrugs.
When I offer to read the twins a story, they insist on Shelby doing so. She acts like she’s annoyed, but her eyes tell a different story.
When they leave, Dad and I are alone.
He sits up and slowly stands. “Your mom was always big on saying what we are thankful for on Thanksgiving. Hers was always us. I want you to know that today, mine is you.”
I haven’t a clue what to say, but he doesn’t wait for me to say a thing. He simply leaves the room.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Autumn
Shuffling through racks and rack of clothes that I definitely don’t need, I hear a young girl laughing from behind me.
“This place is so much better than a department store. And seriously, you need to be part of this. Scour the racks; I have so many ideas...I need a mannequin to display them all.”
My fashion-loving, thrift store-finding heart soars at listening to her. It also fuels the excitement from Knox and Milly having moved out within two weeks of me telling them that I was going to take over the space. I need to find fabrics to make into curtains for the windows that I’ve yet to dress and throw pillows for the bedrooms, study, and living room.
“I wonder where all the bags and accessories that still have tags on them are.”
“They’re over against the back wall,” I say then look over my shoulder and smile at the girl.
“Thanks!” she squeals.
“Hey, Autumn.”
I turn farther toward the familiar voice. “Well, hello there.”
“You know her?” the girl asks.
“I do.” Eric nods at her.
She looks at me. “Can you help me out?”
“Shelby, she’s—”
At the mention of her name, I’m all in.
“I’d love to help. Tell me what you’re looking for.”
“Everything.” She hurries toward me and grabs my hand. “My mom’s in rehab.”
“Jesus, Shells.”
“What? Do you think anyone’s gonna wanna help a kid that opens with, my dad has a house in the Hamptons?”
“She’s got a point.” I shrug at him.
“See?” Shelby rolls her eyes at him, then looks back at me. “Before she went, we had nothing—”
“Shelby,” Eric interrupts her again.
She ignores him. “I stole from the rich parent’s wife and—”
“For Christ’s sake, Shelby, that’s enough.”
I look back at him to see he looks defeated.
“For future reference, if someone is inclined to help you, you can stop at my mom’s in rehab. If your pretty smile doesn’t get them and that line doesn’t work, they weren’t going help you to begin with,” I tell her while dragging her behind me. “So, show me the looks you’re getting your inspiration from.”
I expect a picture on her phone; instead, she distorts her face and steeples her hands in front of it.
“You’re going with beggar?”
“Hey, if it works.”
“I get a feeling you’re going for edgy couture.”
“Is that a thing?” she asks.
I laugh. “It is now.”
“I’m more going for buy everything cheap so I can sell it and make cash when Mom relapses so I can pay the bills.”
“Shells, I’m not gonna let that happen.” The hurt for her, coupled with the conviction in his voice, makes my chest tighten.
“Well, someday you’re going to get married and have kids of your own, and then I need to make sure I can take care of Mom and me.”
“I will always be there to help you,” he says then glances at me.
“Yeah, well, there are four more after me that may need help, and I won’t be taking away from them because Mom has a problem.”
“She’s getting help, Shelby, and hopefully—”
“I will not ever be in that position again.”
“Definitely edgy couture.” I squeeze her hand. “So, where are you going to try and sell?”
“I sell at school mostly, but I thought”—she looks at Eric—“of trying the online way. Less hassle.”
“Any idea for a name?”
“Shelby Steals”
“Hell no,” Eric states.
“Everybody wants to be a bad-ass and—”
“Language,” he snaps.
“How about adding an apostrophe and an s after Shelby, making it Shelby’s Steals and using the tagline edgy couture. Get your mannequin, put together a weekly display so people can bid on the look, and having another page they can click to buy now.”
“Oh my God, that’s perfect! I already have, like, four killer outfits that one of Eric’s girlfriends sent me.”
She stops and looks at him as he leans against the wall and runs his hand through his hair. Then she looks back at me. “It was you?”
“She works for de la Porte, Shelby.” he begins.
Shelby’s eyes widen. “Autumn, as in Angela’s little ankle biter?”
I laugh as Eric palms his face.
“I mean, that’s what—”
“Your father doesn’t like me, it’s fine. Not many on the board do. It was a rough year for all of us.”
“Did you have electricity? Because I didn’t.”
“I did, but I also rented out my house and have lived in the basement apartme
nt because living within my means is important.”
“You don’t have kids, though. You’re not a single mom either, are you?”
I shake my head. “But Angela is, and her daughter Natasha and I used to spend a lot of time here so that we could have the things we wanted but couldn’t afford. Her entire junior and senior years and her first year of college wardrobe were put together with things we found here. So, Shelby Cartwright, what’s your budget and how are you going to take Shelby’s Steals to the next level?”
“Next level?” she asks.
“You have an amazing concept, a name, a tag line; now it’s time to put it all together.”
“I need a mannequin.” She looks at Eric.
“I may have a dress form. Actually, four in the attic of my place.”
“Can I have one?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No, but you can buy one.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “How much?”
“Five bucks.” I hold my hand out to shake on it.
“I have a grand. Can I get two?”
I laugh. “Sure.”
I shake her hand. “It’s Black Friday, and I’m having a sale. Two for seven dollars.”
“I like you, Autumn.”
Eric laughs. “For God’s sake, don’t tell Father that.”
“It’s our secret.” She laughs.
Sitting in the back seat of Eric’s vehicle is a different experience, but I like it. I like the way he looks up in the mirror, and I get to see his eyes. I like the way the intensity level is brought back a bit with his sister in the vehicle but still intense enough to tell me that he wants me, even after I lost it yesterday.
Eric pulls over on the side of the road, reaches in his pocket, and grabs some cash. “You wanna grab us a bunch of those hotdogs you like?”
“Awesome.”
When she jumps out, he turns toward me. “You don’t look tired.”
“She’s a doll.”
Ignoring my statement, he adds, “You look complicated.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m pissed you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you—”
