by Mia Kayla
"James." My mother's tone was low and authoritative, which forced James' head up from his phone.
He tucked his cell into his back pocket. "Liz, thanks for having us over."
"Of course," she said, taking his hand in a friendly greeting. "Quick, let's sit in the family room, while I get dinner served."
I assisted my father over to the love seat, taking his cane and resting it against the end of the couch. I leaned over and whispered, "I've got a surprise for you."
"I know what it is." His sly smile broadened.
Of course, he did. It wasn't a surprise if I gave it to him every year. "I'll be back. I've got to prepare the surprise." I gave him one last hand squeeze before escaping to the kitchen.
I walked in on Tene washing the dishes, singing some Ed Sheeran song and shaking her hips like she had last night. Surprising her, I approached and pinched the innermost part of her arm, the part that hurt.
"Hey!" She turned and flicked water in my direction.
"Why didn't you tell me the bartender was the owner of Allswell?"
A devious grin encompassed her face, making me pinch her again.
"Stop it!" She flicked more water in my direction. "Why does it matter, Angie?"
"It doesn't." I didn't bother to tell her that he propositioned me. She'd probably go over there and congratulate him. Possibly give him a trophy.
She raised her eyebrows. "If it doesn't matter, then why are you asking about him?"
I turned away as a flush touched my cheeks.
"Angelica,” she said, hedging, “do you have a little crush on the bad boy?"
"I want to know what you told him last night at the bar."
She giggled, and I narrowed my eyes, meaning business.
"Tene, I'm serious." I placed my hand on my hip. "Come on!"
"That is between Cade and me."
My mother popped in her head, breaking up our conversation. "Christene, the appetizers."
"Oops, gotta go, sis." She winked and picked up the tray of vegetables and dip and sashayed out of the kitchen.
I wrinkled my nose, walked to the counter, and opened the tub of frosting I’d made at home. I had a sinking feeling that I'd never find out what they had talked about, and I'd be curious till the day I die.
Chapter 6
Our fine china plates lined with gold were set in front of us on the table, while the full glasses of wine sat right beside our dishes.
"Angelica, why don't you say grace?" My mother always asked me to say grace, never Tene, and I wondered if Tene remembered why.
I lowered my head and pressed my hands together. Grace was a time of reflection, a time to be thankful for the things we were fortunate to have when so many didn't. I was thankful for so many things. Especially for my father. That he was able to spend another year with us.
When we almost lost him to the heart attack, over a year ago, my mother couldn't deal, and I’d been there for her emotionally.
Tene was the one who had kept the family going. She was the one who’d gotten up every day and taken charge. She’d hired property managers for those properties that weren't local and had made her rounds to all our local tenants to formally tell them that she would be handling all their needs in the interim.
My mother cleared her throat, reminding me of my duties. "Thank you, God,” I started, “for allowing us to gather here in your presence to celebrate another birthday with my father. May you bless him with many more years to come. Keep him healthy, happy, and safe." And then I began with the standard prayer of grace. "Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts …”
When I finished, Tene chimed in, "Rub-a-dub-dub. Thank you, Lord, for this grub, amen."
Everyone laughed. Everyone except my mother.
"So how was Corrington, Christene?" Mom asked, picking up her glass of wine.
Tene straightened in her seat, and her face pinched with annoyance. "You asked me this earlier, mother. It was great. Hobson wants to rent our other strip mall when the grocery store’s lease is up at the end of the year."
My mother wanted Tene to repeat this story for the Spencers’ benefit. I was sure my mother and father had heard this as soon as Tene had walked into the house.
Kathleen, Roland's mother, turned toward my father. "Leo, are you building out more properties?"
My dad leaned back against his chair and took a sip of wine. "Not at the moment." Words didn't need to be said to understand that the state of his health wasn't well and that we weren't even sure if he'd ever return to work or be retired forever. "We're concentrating on acquiring developed properties in Rosendell and the cities we’re currently in; then we'll look to branching out in cities out of state." Christene talked with an air of authority and confidence, one that I was jealous of. "With all the changes in management, we're working on maintaining our relationships with our current tenants and adding new ones. The latest big win for us was landing CJW Investments LLC at our downtown Rosendell location. It's that new restaurant and bar on Elgin Avenue."
I perked up straighter on my seat, wanting to know more about Allswell.
"Who's CJW Investments?" Mother’s head poked up, a forkful of pasta in her hand.
"Only one of the most well-known investment groups. They own half of the upscale restaurants and bars across the nation.” Christene lifted her chin and sported a satisfied smile. “Have you ever heard of Everest in the Bellagio or Cloke at the Caesars?"
My mouth dropped open, my fork pinging against my plate.
Tene shrugged one shoulder. "I have to know these things. It's all part of the business."
My father nodded as though he knew them as well, but it saddened me to see him take such a back-seat role to the company he’d built.
"Cade ... I mean, Mr. Ryder,” I corrected, “is the owner of those restaurants in Vegas?"
My sister smiled teasingly at me. The kind of smile that made my ears warm and my cheeks flush bright red. I tore my gaze from hers and stuffed more pasta into my mouth.
"Yes, he's one of the investors and runs the businesses. I guess he has some silent partners. I asked about them, wanted to know if they were single," she said nonchalantly, but I wanted to shove a fistful of pasta in her mouth.
"Christene," my mother scolded.
"Mom, I'm kidding.” She chuckled. “But really, I'm sure his silent partners have more than enough money to fund his business ventures. They paid a whole year’s rent in cash."
I went to pick up my wineglass, noticing that my fingers trembled against the stem. "Why are they picking Rosendell as their next conquest?" I took a sip of my wine.
"I've heard of them," Roland said, causing me to cough up my drink.
All heads turned my way. "Sorry. Wrong pipe." I waved a hand, playing it off.
Roland leaned back in his chair and tucked his hands in his armpits. "I mean, we're into investing in manufacturing companies, not restaurants, but yes, CJW is pretty big." There was a certain gleam in his eye, the same look he got when he talked about work.
My father spoke up, answering my question while everyone else ignored it. "Rosendell has a lot of money, dear. High-end shops. It's the small-town New York City."
"Yeah, I guess, but Vegas compared to Rosendell?" I'd never been to Vegas, but I knew there was no comparison.
Tene poured more wine in her glass. "I asked Cade that same question, Ang. They've taken on the biggest cities in the nation—New York, Chicago, Los Angeles—and now they are branching out to the smaller, lucrative cities. And get this ..." She leaned in closer as if clueing us in to some little secret. "After they've conquered the US, they’re hitting international. Ibiza is next."
"Wow," I said, like a kid surprised by a present. I was floored that the tattooed hottie was a total businessman.
"Good win, Christene," my father commented, patting her on her back. She smiled sweetly at him, and he pinched her cheek.
"Like daughter, like daddy." She held out her fist, and he bumped it with his own.
<
br /> I bit my bottom lip, taking in their interaction. I’d always been jealous of their relationship. It was as if he had favored her to outweigh the expectations and tension between my mother and her.
"Christene, you're doing great. Armstrong Enterprises is going to be just fine," Roland said, before reaching for my hand and squeezing it. "Don't worry, babe. You can just raise our baby. I'll be taking care of the both of us." He was obviously teasing, but under his cheerful chuckle, there was some truth to his words.
I sucked in my surprise, carefully closing off my features. "I don't think my parents want to see all their hard-earned investment in my education go down the drain." I let out a forced laugh and took another sip of wine. Maybe more wine would calm the blood boiling beneath the surface.
The table turned silent and everyone's stare ping-ponged between us.
"There's nothing wrong with raising children. I haven't worked a day in my life," Kathleen said. Though she’d had her housekeepers to help her clean and raise Roland, Kathleen prided herself in keeping house, and I didn't think there was anything wrong with that. But that was her life, not mine. I didn't want the same things.
Roland seemed to sense my tension. "I didn't mean you couldn't work for a while before we ..." he began, but his mother placed her hand on top of his, stopping him from digging himself deeper into the hole with each and every word that sputtered out of his mouth.
"Actually," Christene said, pausing to swallow her drink, "when we take over, she’ll technically be making more than you so you could be the one to watch your babies.” She let out a boisterous laugh. So loud, so obnoxious, as though she thought she was the funniest thing in the world. And, in turn, my lips turned upward.
I glanced at my father, and when our eyes met, he started to laugh. Even Nana was laughing.
My mother was not. "Christene," she said through clenched teeth.
"Chill, mother,” Tene said tiredly. “It's a joke. If Roland wants a baby that badly, Angie should go to the bathroom upstairs and push a little turd out for him right now."
My father, Nana, and I laughed harder.
"Christene!" my mother scolded, now red-faced and furious.
My father tapped his fork on the table, wisely changing the subject. "Anyway, I've been thinking about the future of Armstrong lately."
My mother turned toward him, her furious face fading, and being replaced with genuine concern. "No, you are not working until you are one hundred percent better and you have clearance from your doctor."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek to placate her. "Of course, dear, and until the wife clears me to work."
While Christene had a knack for making every awkward situation lighter, my father had a knack for switching my mother's mood in a nanosecond.
When her concern didn’t ebb, he added soothingly, "Don't worry, I plan to get better. I wasn't thinking of going back anytime soon. Christene has done an amazing job. More than amazing.” He winked over the table at her. “We were able to acquire new locations, fill tenancies to almost one hundred percent occupied."
"Uh, Dad, why does it seem like you're firing me?" Christene cocked her head.
"Of course not, honey. Let me finish. Plus, with the win of CJW Investments, I could not be prouder of you. But I think we should switch it up for a bit."
Christene brightened suddenly, grabbing her wineglass and doing a dance-y sway. "Switchity uppity up? Throw in some spice? Let’s hear it. I like a little spice in my life."
His face became serious as he addressed us both. "Let’s switch properties. Angie, you handle all of Rosendell's properties downtown, and Christene, you handle our suburban properties and all properties out of state. This will give you more free time to concentrate on expansion in the neighboring states."
"What?" my mother and I gasped in unison.
Christene nodded approvingly. "I think it's a perfect idea, Dad."
Christene smiled sweetly at me, and I'd bet my trust fund she was thinking the same thing I was thinking—Cade.
My mother shifted in her seat. "Honey, do you think that's a good idea? Angie is barely getting her feet wet with the business."
"It's fine.” He gave me a look that showed his confidence in me, and I felt touched, although still unprepared. “She's doing an amazing job. I heard Bob tried to get out of the annual increases when she went over there to have him sign the lease extension." There was a glint of humor in his eyes. "But you held your ground, didn't you, Angie?" He tipped his chin, pride heavy in his eyes.
Everyone turned in my direction, and I averted my gaze, afraid they'd know the truth. That my father had put him up to test me, and Bob had never really been planning to leave.
"I guess," I said quietly.
"You'll do great." He pushed back his chair and lifted his plate. "I guess baby making will have to wait, Roland." He didn't smile when he uttered those words, his tone serious.
My father and mother had raised independent women, and he wasn't too pleased about Roland's grand plan for my future.
Maybe someday, I'd want to stay home and raise children, but not at twenty-four. I wasn't thinking of babies yet.
My insides fluttered with the excitement about my new responsibility. Finally, my time had come to contribute to this family.
My father picked up my mother's plate as the others began to disperse.
"Let's blow out the candles in the kitchen," my mother called out, stacking the Spencers' plates and separating the silverware.
"Don't worry. You'll do great." Christene pinched my bottom, making me jump. She added discreetly, "Plus, I hear some of your tenants are pretty hot."
I wrinkled my nose at her, and she just laughed.
Cade was hot, there was no doubt. But nothing was going to get in my way. I was going to prove to my father that I was up for this challenge.
Business, not pleasure. Business, not pleasure.
That would be my mantra until Cade left to pursue his next restaurant. Which, hopefully, would be soon.
Sometimes, I was the biggest kid out there, even in my early twenties. I bounced on my toes as excitement rushed through me. I peered over my father’s shoulder to make sure his eyes were closed. "No peeking, Dad."
Everyone congregated around my father as I placed the three-layer chocolate cake in front of him. In curvy letters, it said “Happy 57th birthday, Dad.” On top of the cake, a replica of the city of Rosendell had been sculpted from fondant, primarily the street where our main buildings were—Elgin Avenue. It took me hours to prepare the cake, from baking to preparing the buttercream, then decorating with fondant.
Christene and I had taken my mother for a cake decorating class once for one of her birthdays. However, I was the only one who continued to make cakes. Tene was the one who continued to eat them.
When I lit the candles, one by one, my father twisted in his seat. "Keep your eyes shut," I commanded.
My mother and Tene assisted in grabbing the candles on the cake and lighting the other candles.
"Darling, you have talent," Kathleen commented next to me, placing her hand on my shoulder.
Roland chuckled. "Yes, Mother, and I am the benefactor of her talent. Speaking of which, someone else’s birthday is coming up soon." He poked at my side teasingly, and a cheesy smile crept up my face because my big day was next.
When all fifty-seven candles were lit, I clasped my hands together and stood right next to my father. "Okay, open them."
My father's whole face lit up and his eyes filled with pride. "It's your best work yet, Angie."
I swallowed hard, feeling emotional. We had stopped doing presents for him five years ago when he’d said he didn't need any more junk and he had everything he needed in his life—his family. But I always felt a joy swell inside me at seeing how pleased he was with my cakes.
And then I whispered the three words I personally waited for every year. It's what I wanted to do on my birthday, and I'd never missed a year since I was a little kid. "Ma
ke a wish." Birthdays meant new beginnings. A new year, a new start, and that one wish—whatever you wanted to wish for on your special day—was epic. My father was only ever going to be fifty-six once, and this meant a new beginning at fifty-seven, as well as moving on from a difficult previous year with the high hopes that he didn’t encounter health issues anymore.
As he closed his eyes, time stood still. I watched him blow out all fifty-seven candles. It was as though he was blowing out the old him and simultaneously wishing for something new.
My mother planted a sweet kiss on his lips. "Happy birthday, darling."
My father and mother were opposites, but their love had gotten him through his sickness. Despite either of their flaws, their love had persevered through years of marriage.
When I walked to the other side of the kitchen to the cabinets to get some plates, Roland came up behind me and tugged on my arm. "We need to leave."
"What? No." I ignored him and proceeded to get out the plates and cutlery.
"I just got a text from Conner. He sent me a contract, but it's too big to pull up on my phone. I need my computer.” His face was expectant. “So, we need to leave right now."
When he gripped my elbow, I jerked away. "It's my dad's birthday."
"Be a little more considerate here, Angie," he said impatiently.
"Considerate?” I scoffed. “That's funny coming from you. It's my father's birthday. You should have driven here separately. Conner can wait a few hours."
He straightened and projected his voice so the whole room could hear. "Liz, I'm sorry, but we'll have to get going soon. I have an early day tomorrow."
My mother smiled from the coffee machine. "Of course. Just stay for a few to give Angie enough time to eat her cake."
The vein in my temple twitched. "You didn't tell me we were leaving early, honey." I gritted my teeth, grinding my molars. Everyone's focus was on us, but it didn't dim the anger that flowed through me.
"Angie, we're just about done here,” my mother insisted. “We wouldn't want you to go home too late, anyway." When she waved a hand and continued to pour coffee for our guests, I stormed past Roland who was in my way.
