“I know you have to work, but could you come here for a minute,” he said, patting the futon beside him.
She sat down, the fresh scabs on her knees tight and uncomfortable as she bent her legs, and was surprised to realize how nervous she felt. About what? In the past week, she’d gotten sloppy drunk in front of him and had a temper tantrum, and he had been knocked on his ass and had his nose broken because of her. What could he possibly have to say now that could be more embarrassing than all of that?
“Look, I know you don’t really want to talk about it, but I think we need to,” he said. “After I talk to my bosses today to finalize a few things, I’m presenting Rosetta the formal offer, and then I’m going back to California and put things in motion, and when I come back, it’ll be to oversee the project as construction gets underway.”
Casey sighed. She wished she didn’t like Brett. She wished he were an ugly, old asshole that she could dismiss with a snide remark and, if he said something misogynistic enough, a slap across the face. But he was nice in his dopey, mainstream way. At least he wasn’t a hipster.
“I know you don’t want things to change around here, and honestly I don’t think Rosetta does either, but she’s in a bad position. She has no choice.”
Casey nodded. She had woken up feeling surprisingly well-rested, but now she was weary. Why bother opening the café today for a small handful of late-season visitors? Why not stay in bed? Why open the café ever again? Why not put up a sign that said closed forever and disappear? She’d disappeared from her life twice before now. She could do it again.
“I know how special the island is,” Brett said. “It’s beautiful and unspoiled, and I’m going to do everything I can to honor that.”
“How?” Casey asked, turning her head to look at him. How could he possibly honor the spirit of the place and put up a luxury resort?
“We’ve scaled back the plans, for starters. A condo village instead of a big hotel. We’ll design the buildings to suit the environment and do everything the greenest way possible. We’ll sell it as a quiet place to escape from it all and get in touch with nature.”
He became more animated as he spoke. He really believed what he was saying. Casey could see that. He didn’t seem to get that there was no environmentally friendly way to build here, a fact he really should have picked up on.
“We’re going to appeal to a new clientele—young and liberal. The socially, economically, and environmentally conscious crowd,” he said.
Casey laughed. “And rich. Do you really think they’ll want to come here and not, I don’t know, Mexico or Ibiza?”
“I do,” he said earnestly.
Casey shook her head. This was a place where middle-class New Englanders came because it was one of the cheapest places to get a rental with a water view. They gave up the tourist attractions of Bar Harbor or Ogunquit in favor of the ability to afford an entire week’s vacation someplace where they could easily walk to the beach.
“I want you to work for me. I want you to run the coffee shop and bakery in the resort. You’ll make more money, you’ll have more help, and you’ll have more customers.”
“I like the customers I have now,” Casey said.
“You don’t need to decide right now, of course, but think about it, okay? I wish I could tell you that your café could stay as it is and survive the development, but I can’t lie to you.”
She felt a flare of anger, but it passed quickly and turned to dread. She was losing her café and her home all in one swoop.
“What am I going to do?” Casey said, more to herself than to Brett.
“Come work at the resort,” he said.
She shook her head.
“Casey,” he said. “I really like you. I want to—” he paused, formulating his words, “I want to give us a try.”
Casey stood up then. It was ridiculous for him to say such a thing. There was no “us” for the two of them. They might have been able to have a nice fling for a while if she hadn’t learned what he was actually doing here, but she had, and however attractive and nice he might be, there would never been an “us.”
“I have to get downstairs. Feel free to take your time up here. I really think you should go see a doctor about that nose, though,” she said coldly.
***
When he got back to the hotel, it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. There were still two hours until the first ferry, two hours until he could take his wrecked face to a doctor. He should have gone to the ER last night. He should have let Casey take him. Too late for that. He had two black eyes, he couldn’t breathe through his nose, and he had a headache that throbbed from the crown of his head down through the bones of his face and into his teeth. He helped himself to an empty ice bucket from the housekeeping closet near the ice machine and filled it before going on to his room.
As he sat on the bed, arranging a hand towel full of ice for his nose, he noticed the message light blinking on the room phone. He followed the instructions on the card beside the phone and listened:
Brett, this is Charlie, here. We need you to hold off on that deal. We love the whole eco-tourism thing, but you and I need to talk. Do not move forward with the offer. I’ll be here tonight another hour or so, or call me first thing in the morning. I’ll be in by 9, I mean 9, my time.
The message had been left at 10 o’clock the previous evening. Brett didn’t like that “you and I need to talk” business. He knew what it meant. It meant that this deal was dead. He lay back on the bed and set the ice pack on his face.
At the stroke of noon, he dialed Charlie. He’d taken enough ibuprofen to kill a small animal and his head felt moderately better. He’d taken a hot shower, and he could now sort of breathe out of one nostril.
Charlie’s secretary picked up on the second ring, and after a couple of minutes on hold, Charlie came on the line. Brett didn’t bother with pleasantries.
“What the hell is going on?”
“What’s the matter with you? You got a cold or something?” Charlie asked.
“Why are we delaying the offer?”
“Look, I probably should have reigned you in sooner on this one,” Charlie said. “We’ve decided to move forward with that site in Costa Rica instead.”
Costa Rica? Brett gritted his teeth to prevent himself telling his boss where he could put his Costa Rica development.
“We’re going to do it your way, though—the whole ecotourism thing. It’s your concept, kid, through and through.”
Charlie went on, trying to convince Brett that the fundamental alteration of his plan in moving it to a tropical country was a good thing. Finally, Brett cut him off.
“I don’t get it. Why did you let me scout this location if you knew you wanted Costa Rica?” he asked.
Charlie sighed heavily into the phone. “Look, why don’t you get yourself on the next flight back here and we can talk.”
“Let’s talk now,” Brett said. His head had resumed its pounding.
“You know how much we value the work you do, right? You’re an important part of our team.”
“That’s great. I feel really valued on this wild goose chase right now.”
“I was doing you a favor, you know. The past year or so, anyone could see you weren’t happy, and your work was suffering, so when you wanted to look into branching out into new markets and new locations, I thought, all right, let’s see what the kid’s got. Honestly, I had my doubts before I even let you fly out there. I mean, come on, what the hell does Sweet Water want in a location where winter lasts from October to May? But you know, you’ve worked for me for a long time. If what you needed to get your groove back was a change of scenery, fine. And once you got there, you sounded so damn happy, like it was Christmas fucking morning, for God’s sake, and so I waited to see what you came up with. And good thing, too. This ecotourism stuff is big, and it’s time for us to get in on it. As far as I’m concerned, your trip there was money well spent, and now it’s time for you to get you
r ass back here—”
“Will you be putting up a big hotel in Costa Rica?” Brett asked.
“What? Yes, of course.”
“Not a condo village built using sustainable practices.”
“Obviously we’re still working on the details.”
“Tell me how my idea for a smaller-scale, more exclusive, more environmentally friendly and socially conscious resort fits into your plans for Costa Rica,” Brett said, his voice flat and low.
“We’re still working it out, but I can assure you, we are taking your ideas seriously.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are.”
“Laurie checked flights for me. How far are you from Boston? We can get you on a flight this afternoon at four-fifteen. Can you get there by then?”
“No,” Brett said, and hung up the phone.
He found Rosetta out on the patio overlooking the beach. She smiled as he approached, but when he got close enough that she could see his face, she leapt up and hurried to meet him. She moved fast for an old lady. He explained away his battle scars as his own stupid fault, stumbled on the cliff rock in the dark the night before when he was out walking, he said. She seemed suspicious but let it pass and led him back to the table where she’d been sitting.
There were a few other patrons enjoying the warm, breezy afternoon, but they took little notice of Brett and Rosetta. This is it, he thought. This is the last season for the Wild Rose Inn. And then he realized that that would have been the case if the deal had gone through, too. But he would have kept the spirit of what Rosetta had done here. He would have tried.
“You don’t look like you have good news for me,” Rosetta said.
He shook his head.
“How low are they going now? Can I afford this deal?”
“No,” he said, sighing. “There’s no deal. My bosses have changed their minds.”
Rosetta looked at him with narrowed eyes for a moment, and then nodded. “Well, we tried, didn’t we?” she said, turning her gaze out toward the water.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to help you. I—”
She waved him off. “To be honest, I have no head for business at all. I’ve been running this place steadily into the ground since my husband died. All that’s happened here is we’ve arrived at the logical conclusion.”
“So you’ll declare bankruptcy?”
She nodded.
He felt like he might cry. It was so wrong that she would have to see everything she’d spent a lifetime building come to nothing.
“You’re a nice man. None of this is your fault,” she said. “You going to see a doctor about that face?”
He forced a smile. “I’m fine. I’m going to stay a few more days, though, okay?”
“Suit yourself, as long as you pay your bill,” she said, winking.
***
“What does it mean?” Casey asked.
When Brett had walked into the café with his black eyes and a splint on his swollen nose, she felt a strange surge of happiness at the sight of him, which she quickly squashed by reminding herself that he represented the enemy.
But then he had said that the deal was dead and she didn’t know what to think. Just that morning, he’d assured her it was moving forward, and now he was saying his bosses had backed out. They sat at a table near the open window, with two steaming mugs of coffee. There were no customers, and she had been planning to close when he arrived.
“The court will step in and negotiate a plan to settle her debts. Most likely they’ll liquidate her assets.”
Casey looked at him like he’d started speaking in tongues.
“They’ll sell off anything she owes money on.”
“I offered to help her. I recently came into a little money. I offered it to her, but she said it won’t change anything.”
“Her debt burden is pretty big,” he said.
Casey watched him trace the pattern of the wood grain on the table top with his finger.
“Did you do this? Did you stop the deal?” she asked.
He looked up at her and shook his head.
“The deal was going to save her, give her enough money to pay off her debts and retire. Now, I don’t know. When all is said and done, she’s not going to have much.”
“And this is bad for you, too, right? I mean, wouldn’t it be better for your job if it had gone through?”
He gave a sad smile and a little shrug. “I was thinking of quitting anyway.”
“Oh yeah? What’ll you do?” she asked.
“Do you ever regret not getting married, having a family, all of that?” he asked.
Casey made a face. “How old do you think I am? Is it really all over for me?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I mean obviously you could still get married and stuff, but—and don’t take this the wrong way—as you get older, isn’t it harder to have a baby? More risky and all that?”
Casey looked out the window and didn’t answer him. Whether or not she wanted to get married and have a family was really none of his business, and entirely irrelevant to the topic at hand.
“I didn’t mean to pry. I’m thinking about myself. I never wanted to settle down before, but now, I look at my life and think, what have I been doing? What have I accomplished? I have a nice condo, I make good money, I travel to beautiful beaches for my job, but it all feels kind of meaningless.”
She turned back to face him. “I stopped looking for meaning a long time ago. There is no meaning.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She shrugged. He could believe what he wanted. She shouldn’t be sitting here shooting the breeze with him. She should be going over to see Rosetta and find out what exactly she was planning to do next. But then again, what good would it do? Brett had already told her that Rosetta had a lawyer who had been working on the bankruptcy even before he came in with his initial offer.
“If there is no meaning, how do you get up every morning?” Brett asked.
“Because I’m alive. Because I have to pee or I get hungry.”
“I need to learn from you. I need you to be my guru.”
Casey looked back out the window again. She didn’t like it when he said things like that, as if there were some future for them.
“Casey,” he said softly, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
“You don’t even know me,” she said.
“I do, though.”
“You know this can’t work. You live in California. I live here, for now anyway. We are from different universes. And seriously, you don’t even know me.”
“What do I need to know about you, then?”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t answer.
“I got punched in the face for you. I feel like the least you could do for me is tell me something about yourself.”
She pursed her lips and studied him, and then she said, “Okay. You want to know about me. My mother, who recently died, disowned me when I was seventeen because I got pregnant. Do you want to ask me again if I regret not having a family?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you? But that’s what happened. I had a baby and I gave her up for adoption.” It was weirdly easy to tell him this. Maybe it was because she was annoyed or because her emotions had been on overdrive for weeks or because having already told Rosetta, she had opened the floodgates, but for whatever reason, she told him, just like that.
“Do you ever get to see her?”
“I agreed to give up all my rights,” Casey said. He didn’t need to know how screwed up the circumstances had been.
“Well, it sounds like you took the mature, responsible route,” he said, kindly.
“I wanted to be a mother. I loved that baby, and I loved her father. That’s how I know what love is, and that’s how I know that whatever you feel for me, it isn’t love,” she said, standing up. She had let this conversation go on long enough. He needed to leave the café, leave the island, go back to California, and let her figure out wha
t she was going to do now.
“You were a kid,” he said.
“Kids know what love is. Adults, not so much.” She carried their mugs to the kitchen, and to her dismay she heard him follow her.
She set the mugs on the counter, and she felt his hands on her waist. He rested his chin on the top of her head and gently pulled her back against him.
“Would it be so bad to see if we could love each other?” he asked.
It felt good, leaning against him that way. It felt easy and comfortable and warm. And yet, in her gut, she knew it was wrong. How could he even talk about starting a relationship when he was thinking of quitting his job with no plan for what he was going to do next, and when she was about to lose her job, with no plan for what she was going to do next? She stepped out of his grasp.
“Both of our lives are in chaos right now,” she said, turning to face him.
“Who cares? If we were kids, would you care?”
“We aren’t kids.”
“You said kids know what love is. So think like a kid. If you were a kid again, what would you do right now?”
She shook her head but didn’t answer.
“Maybe we can help each other get through the chaos. Have you ever thought of that?” Brett asked.
She wanted to kiss him. Black eyes, swollen nose and all—she wanted to kiss him. And normally, when she wanted to kiss someone, she did, but normally the people she wanted to kiss didn’t use words like “love.”
He took a step closer to her and put his hands back on her waist again. She had to tip her head back to look at his face. And then he leaned down and kissed her, gently, innocently on the lips before pulling away. She put her hands on his back and squeezed, burrowing against him, and he laughed a little.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t think I can give you the kiss I want to give you right now. It hurts too much.”
She laughed, too, then, and said, “Talk about romantic.”
He set his chin back on top of her head and wrapped his arms around her. “You got that right.”
What She Inherits Page 26
