“Oh Charlotte,” Mabry said in a lilting voice. “Please take a picture for us. It will mean a lot to Taylor.”
Charlotte’s lips pressed tightly, but she took the phone and snapped the picture. When she gave the phone back to him, he immediately pulled up the picture and sent it to someone.
“Who’d you send that to?” Charlotte asked. She pulled out her phone. “Because it sure wasn’t me.”
Mabry shrugged. “My agent. It’ll be great press.”
Nate’s fists curled tight, so he crossed his arms to restrain himself from decking the man. “I’m sure you’re about to send it to Charlotte too, so Taylor can have a copy. Right?”
The man glared at him, then smiled, his teeth flashing. “Of course, Mr. Haverton.”
Once he’d sent the picture, he leaned down to Taylor and said. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but you’re due to come to me at Christmas. Until then, you work on that swing. You obviously got my athleticism, but you’ve got your mom’s lack of control. Keep your eye on that ball. When you get a little older, we’ll have to see about getting you with a good coach.”
And without another word, the man smirked and jogged down the bleachers, striding off towards the parking lot.
“Nate,” Charlotte started.
Nate shook his head. “I know we need to talk, but can we do it later?” He glanced down at the lost expression on Taylor’s face as he stared after his dad. “In private, don’t you think? And after the trophy.”
She nodded. “But don’t think you can get away without telling me what the heck just happened here. And I mean everything.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Charlotte got the air conditioner going in her car and motioned Taylor inside. After handing him her phone to play on, she shut the door again and spun around to face Nate. She crossed her arms as she leaned against the car as she said, “Start talking.”
“I should probably wait till I have a lawyer present. I don’t want to incriminate myself.”
It almost made her laugh. Almost. But she controlled it, and the near slip made her madder than ever. “Nate, come on. I don’t know how or why, but somehow, you are responsible for Daniel showing up here today. And now my son is in a tailspin of conflicting emotions and I have a check for ten thousand dollars in my purse.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Nate flinched. “About the money I mean.”
“Yes, because he owed me that money. But you did something to make him give it to me. I know you did. And I want to know what because you and I have a contract that says you can’t spend money on me.”
“Who says I spent any money on you?”
Charlotte let out a very unladylike snort. “Because Daniel doesn’t budge unless money comes into it. And if he gave me that kind of money, there was bigger money involved somewhere.”
“Okay, first of all, stop glaring at me like I’m trying to ruin your life. Secondly, I did it for Taylor more than you.”
“Ah hah!” She pointed a finger at him. “So you did do something.”
Nate reached out and pinched her finger, shaking it back and forth—a playful gesture that might have melted her any other time.
“See, a lawyer would have kept me from confessing just then.”
“What did you do, Nate?”
He closed his eyes a moment, then opened them to look straight at her. The intensity of his eyes rippled through her, but she refused to look away.
“One of my retail companies is now a major sponsor of the Royals, and I personally own…significant stock in the organization. Enough that if I tell the C.E.O that his players need to be upright individuals who pay their child support appropriately, I’m taken seriously.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened as she gaped at him. “But you can’t do that! You must have spent…” She paused, completely unable to fathom a number. “Are you insane? It was bad enough when I thought you’d given him the money to pay me.”
“Look, Charlotte—I’m not a newbie in the business world. The sponsorship will be great for sales and I’ll most likely profit off the stocks as well.”
“I’m thrilled to get this check, but don’t you see? This is the kind of thing I hate—when someone uses their money to control other people.”
Nate’s face darkened. “I did nothing immoral or unethical. And yes, money talks, Charlotte. Especially for lowlifes like your ex-husband. And like I said, I did this for Taylor, which doesn’t break our contract at all. I wish I could shred that stupid contract into thousands of tiny pieces and shove them down a wormhole. But heaven forbid someone who cares about you should help you with anything.”
“You don’t care about me,” Charlotte said, feeling her throat getting tight. “I’ve told you this won’t work between us, but you won’t listen to me. I’m probably some passing fancy for you, and when you’re bored with the poor, single mom, you’ll move on to someone else, just like Alexa said. And I’ll be stuck here in this town, branded a gold-digging whore.”
“Ignore anything that woman said. She was poison, but you’ll never have to worry about her again. But what’s this about being a gold-digging whore?”
Charlotte glanced around, hoping no one was looking at them now that they had both started yelling. “That’s what people are calling me, all because I was married to Daniel and then got involved with you.”
Nate shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed. “Who cares what people are saying? You know it isn’t true.”
Losing the fight against the floodgate of tears in her eyes, Charlotte stood staring at him. She knew her argument was all over the place, but all of her worries and concerns needed to come out.
“You don’t get it, do you? You live in that mansion behind a gate with a full security detail, traipsing all over the world, or retreating to your even bigger mansion on the beach, but I’m here every day. I have to take Taylor to school, go to the grocery store, buy gas, go to the bank and the post office. And everywhere I go, people look at me and whisper with their friends.”
Nate walked toward her, laying his hands on her shoulders. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
Charlotte brushed his hands away and wiped her cheeks. “But it hasn’t hurt my business any. Oh no. Every woman in this town wants to come in and get the full scoop for herself. Most of them aren’t even subtle about it.”
Lowering his voice, Nate said, “Let me take you away from all this. I have a big business deal in the works. It’s top secret, so I have to go off grid until it’s done. Disappear with me for a few days.”
“Don’t you understand that I can’t do that? Taylor has school. I have a business to run. And it would just make all the rumors worse.”
“I’m trying to figure out how to fix this.”
“All you know how to do is spend your stupid money.”
Nate straightened and the expression on his face grew cold. “If you’d let go of your childish prejudices, you’d see that I’ve done a lot more than that. You’re the one who’s obsessed with money. You can’t look past it to the man I am.”
Hurt beyond words, Charlotte drew in one shuddering breath after another, determined not to cry in front of him again. She turned and groped blindly for the door handle of her car. “Well, since I’m so childish and prejudiced, I’ll do you a favor and remove myself from your life.”
“No, Charlotte, wait—”
“Leave me alone, Nate. I’ll mail you a check for the stupid shoes.” She got in her car, put it in drive, and tore out of the parking lot, barely able to see.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” Taylor asked.
“Nothing,” Charlotte managed to say. She wanted to cry. She wanted to rage and scream and fall in a dark hole for a few hours. But she had a son who needed security and normalcy. So she swallowed her emotions, though it almost choked her. An hour later, she had Taylor bathed and tucked into bed. She walked into her bathroom, shaking and breathing quickly as she released the dam on her emotions. She hoped he wouldn’t h
ear the sound of her world crashing down over the sound of running water, so she got in the shower, sat on the floor of the tub, and sobbed as the hot water rained down over her.
***
The next morning, Charlotte managed to function normally by taking Advil and eating half a package of chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, though she’d had to hide this fact from Taylor who still had to eat oatmeal.
“Come on, Taylor, grab your backpack. You’re going to be late for school.”
“I got it, Mom. See?”
Sure enough, it was already looped over his shoulders. “Okay, well, let’s go.”
“Mom, are you going in your pajamas?”
Charlotte gritted her teeth for a moment. Since when did Taylor care what she was wearing? “Yes. Because today, Mommy doesn’t give a flying flip what people think of her. And besides, I’m not even getting out of the car.”
Then, grabbing her keys off the floor where she’d flung them last night, she opened the front door and nearly tripped over a huge fruit basket.
“What the heck?”
She picked it up by the knot of cellophane gathered in by a huge red ribbon and hefted it up to examine it more closely. It had to weigh close to thirty pounds, because she had to use both hands to set it up on the porch swing.
“Wow,” Taylor said, examining it with her. “Can I have one of those apples?”
“No. It was probably delivered to the wrong house. We’d better hold off till I know where it came from.”
“But the tag says, ‘To Charlotte, with love.”
“What?” Charlotte roared, snatching the tag away from him. “That man…”
“What man, mom?”
“Here, take an apple and go get in the car,” Charlotte said.
The whole way to the school and back, Charlotte fumed over Nate’s perfidy. Not only was he clearly breaking The Sam Clause of their contract, flagrantly in fact, but how dare he sign it with love. True, the four-letter word made her heart race so fast she had trouble breathing, but the swell of excited hope that maybe he did love her made her angry. Because she didn’t deserve his love. And worst of all, even though she desperately wanted it, she did not want to be told with a pineapple.
And she didn’t want to feel like this when she couldn’t even call him. It could be days before she could talk to him.
Well, she wasn’t talking to him anyway, and it didn’t matter if he loved her, because it wouldn’t work.
Still simmering with too many emotions on too little sleep, she got out of the car and walked to her front door. Sitting in front of it was an enormous bouquet of flowers. The thing was at least three feet tall and filled with all kinds of exotic flowers and greenery that she couldn’t even begin to put names to. No simple roses for Nate Haverton. Oh no.
She grabbed the little white envelope off its pick and read the short message. “My heart belongs to you.”
“Oh does it?” she asked the little card.
She wanted to hurl the whole beautiful, extravagant bouquet into the ditch, but she was already intensely aware that she didn’t need to give the neighborhood any more to talk about. She took it inside and set it on the dining room table where it would leave very little room for eating, and then went outside to bring in the fruit basket.
But Nate was not done with her yet. Throughout the day, she continued to get deliveries. Five more bouquets, a cookie bouquet, a certificate for a star named after her, a box of fine Belgian chocolates, two teddy bears and an angel doll with a particularly sappy, cliched note. Fortunately, the deliveries were all made to the front door of the house instead of the salon so none of her clients saw her mini melt-downs every time something new showed up.
Finally, she couldn’t take anymore. Not only was this an egregious and blatant breach of her contract with Nate, but this was exactly what Daniel used to do when he made her mad. He’d buy her stuff, and she quickly learned that it was an easy fix for him and meant absolutely nothing. If Nate wanted to apologize, this was the wrong way to do it.
After rescheduling her two o’clock appointment, she called Lanelle.
“What’s up, honey?” her neighbor asked. “I’ve seen about a dozen different delivery vans in front of your house today.”
“I know. That’s why I’m calling. Can I borrow your truck?”
“You’re welcome to it, but I want the whole story.”
“Fine with me. I’d love to vent to someone anyway.”
Charlotte walked over and borrowed the keys, and Lanelle rode over in the truck with her. Together, they loaded up all of her gifts in the back of the truck. Well, except for the cookie bouquet which Charlotte happily handed over to Lanelle, and the chocolates, which Charlotte hated to see melt and go to waste. Especially since she hadn’t eaten lunch.
“I’ll be back after I drop these off and pick Taylor up.”
“No hurry, honey. I’m going to go make a casserole and we can eat together tonight.”
“Thanks,” Charlotte said. “You’re the best. I’ve probably had enough sugar. Something creamy and cheesy would be perfect. Especially if it has crushed potato chips.”
“I’m on it,” Lanelle called, waving as Charlotte backed out of the driveway.
Ten minutes later, Charlotte pulled up in front of Nate’s gate. She honked her horn a couple of times until a voice called out of the intercom, “I’m sorry, but Mr. Haverton is not at home.”
“I know that. But I have some things that belong to him. If you’ll please open the gate, I’ll just leave them on his porch.”
“That’s not possible. I’m sorry.”
Charlotte almost screamed, but managed, barely, to control herself. “Okay. Thanks.”
Determined not to keep anything, she backed out of the driveway and pulled up alongside the fence. She’d leave it at his gate. That was good enough for her.
One by one, she set the flower arrangements on the ground, and stuck the cellophane wrapped bouquets through the gate where they were held up by wrought iron curlicues. The four- foot teddy bear flanked the left side of the gate, the smaller ones got stuck into the gate where they hung by their arms, and the ridiculous angel doll got earned a place of prominence at the top with its gossamer wings glinting in the sun. Then finally, because the notes had made her maddest of all, she taped them all over the gate in their little white envelopes.
“Hah! Take that, Nate Haverton.”
And feeling quite pleased with herself, she whistled as she drove home, until she realized she’d forgotten the blasted fruit basket.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nate stared across the dumpy plastic table at the man across from him. Blake McDaniel’s eyes met his just as unwaveringly. The atmosphere wasn’t hostile, just tense, as they both stood firm on their current objectives. Negotiations were going to take forever if there was this much back and forth on every point of the thick contract. But the fact that Blake had such a will of iron was exactly why Nate wanted to make this deal with him despite the fact that there was some scandal attached to The McDaniel Company.
“Your move,” Blake said. “I’ve gone as far in your direction as I’m willing to go.”
Keeping all his frustrations inside, Nate tried to think of some way to build a bridge between them. Blake was younger than he was by a few years, but he had an impressive reputation for growing businesses and launching innovative technology. His family company had taken a hard hit when Blake’s mother was accused of fraud and insider trading, but with Blake at the helm, the business was growing exponentially. Nate admired Blake’s unrelenting drive, but hoped the man would be wise enough to put his personal life first. Nate had learned how empty life was without someone to share it with. But that was Blake’s concern. Nate’s was making sure that he secured a seamless and beneficial transition of power from his hands to Blake’s.
Before Nate could think of a solution they would both be happy with, the door opened and he looked up sharply to see who had dared to interrupt t
hem. When he saw Sam’s tense face, a jolt of worry surged through him. Sam only looked like that when something serious had happened. Was it one of his parents? Charlotte? If something had happened to her before he got a chance to go back and make things right with her, he’d never forgive himself. “What is it?”
“We have a situation.” When Nate stood up, Sam continued, “Everyone is fine. Well, that’s not exactly true. You are apparently dead.”
Nate straightened in surprise. “What?”
Sam walked over and handed Nate a tablet secured in a pink rhinestone studded case. Nate flicked an eyebrow at him, then focused on the screen. A video from a national news outlet’s broadcast was paused. Nate saw the headline under the video that read “Billionaire Philanthropist, Nate Haverton, presumed dead.” He quickly hit play and watched in shock as a video feed came on showing the front gates to his home in Chester. To his amazement, the gate had been turned into a shrine or memorial, with flowers and cards and stuffed animals heaped all over it.
He focused on what the reporter was saying, hoping to figure out what the heck was going on.
“No one knows who started the memorial, but all attempts to contact Mr. Haverton by law enforcement and the media have been unsuccessful. The official word from his staff is that Mr. Haverton is unavailable for comment, but will be available soon.”
Then the other reporter jumped in. “It’s a fair assumption to make no one knows where he is and that his people are scrambling to find him. If anyone has any information regarding this unfolding situation, please contact our station at—”
Nate paused the video and handed the tablet back to Sam. “How long has this been going on?”
“The first report was made by the local news channel yesterday afternoon. Apparently, a woman named Justine Tilman went by your house with a plate of brownies and had a panic attack. Your security team found her babbling about how the love of her life was dead, and that she couldn’t go on. They didn’t know what to do, so they left her crying against the fence and called the police. Before they could get there though, Miss Tilman called everyone she knew and told them you were dead. Half the town showed up and joined in her vigil at the gate. By the time the police got there, they had a circus on their hands. At least, that’s what I’ve been able to piece together from security’s report and the early news stories.”
The Trouble with Billionaires (Southern Billionaires Book 1) Page 15
