Neil had stopped by my apartment on his way home to get signatures on documents he needed while I was gone. He hadn’t been here since I’d moved in, and he seemed uncomfortable, although it could have been the topic at hand or my home itself.
“You get lonely living here?” Well, that answered that question.
I thought about lying to him, giving him the PC answer that would allow him to sleep without worry. Then I realized I had no reason to be dishonest. “Why do you think I’m never here?” I pointed to the closet in my room. “Hell, I haven’t even unpacked all my stuff.”
He sat in the chair in the corner, the one Cora had loved in the apartment we’d shared with Neil and Hannah. “What do you do when you’re not at work? Surely you don’t spend all your time at the bar in Midtown.”
“Most of it. They’ve got decent food, great draft, and fairly good company.” I shrugged as I continued to pack.
“You headed there tonight?”
“Nah, I’m going to try to get to sleep early. It’s a long drive home.”
“Remind me again why you aren’t flying?”
I didn’t have a real reason other than I hadn’t wanted to. I didn’t have a fear of flying, although I just didn’t have any desire to get to my parents’ house any sooner than necessary. “This way I get credit for coming a day earlier than I actually do and staying a day longer.”
“You think they’re keeping score?”
“Seriously? They’re always keeping tabs. Not just for me but everyone they’re acquainted with. They’re never in debt to anyone and people always owe them favors. It’s how my dad has so much leverage on everyone he comes in contact with. I remember when I was little, one of the maids had a fire in her apartment. My dad gave her money to help her get back on her feet, which she paid back with interest. Then anytime he needed her to stay late or work a weekend she wasn’t scheduled, he’d remind her of just how generous he’d been.”
I hated thinking about that kind of thing. I’d seen it my whole life, and it always felt wrong, although I didn’t have a way to express that then. As an adult, I simply avoided owing him anything.
He crossed his legs at the ankles and put his hands behind his head. “Have you told them about Cora?”
“What about her?” I discussed as little as possible about my personal life with my parents. They were on a need-to-know basis—and there was nothing they needed to know about Cora.
“That you’re not still together.”
“They’re aware she’s in Paris and think our decision to pursue our careers was mature.” I mocked my mother’s tone when she’d made the proclamation herself.
“Susan Carpenter. Always finding the bright side to every dull piece of tin.”
I just rolled my eyes and zipped my suitcase. “Especially when that tin is a Chase. They don’t care if we’re in love as long as we’re well connected.”
“You think that’s what this weekend is about? Them furthering your connections?”
“There’s an agenda…I’m just not privy to what it is yet. But rest assured, I’ll know within an hour of my arrival. And hopefully, I won’t be getting back in the car to return to New York without a decent night’s sleep and breakfast in the morning. I pray to God my dad can keep his mouth shut so we can make it through the party. Anything after that is icing on the cake.”
“Good luck, man. I don’t see you surviving past dinner tomorrow night. I’ll be rooting for you and hope whatever he has up his sleeve benefits us. I’m not ashamed of taking handouts.”
“Be careful…sometimes the hand that feeds you slaps you in the face.”
***
“I’m about to blow my top, James.” Cora had been ranting for thirty minutes, although I’d yet to figure out what she was pissed about. “Ugh, insufferable, I swear. Maybe it’s just this place.”
“So come home.” I used any opening, anytime, to get her back stateside. I didn’t care what the reason was or who sent her in my direction, as long as she came.
“Ten more months.”
“You could be on a plane tomorrow if you wanted to,” I spoke into the air as I drove down the interstate heading back to Geneva Key.
“Well, that wouldn’t do me any good. Where would I go? Hang out in the terminals?”
“Have you ever wondered if people do that? Like just spend days wandering around the airport? It would be a safe place for homeless people to go. Why don’t people do that?” I’d drifted off topic, only realizing it when Cora laughed on the other end. It was the first bit of humor I’d heard from her since she called.
“Squirrel much?” She referred to the rabbit trail I’d wandered off on with that diatribe.
“If you’re coming home, I’ll turn around now.” And I would. No questions asked. My parents could kiss off. If it came to a choice between them and Cora, that was a no-brainer.
“I’m surprised you’re going home.”
“It’s my dad’s fiftieth birthday.”
“So your mom insisted?” The giggle she let out, correct in her assumption, elated me.
“Basically. My father wants to discuss business as well, but that’s not until after the party. Lucky me.”
“Wait, you’re not just going to the party and going home?”
“It’s a weekend of festivities, Cora,” I mimicked my mother’s voice.
“How long are you staying?” she shrieked as though she’d be dragged along.
“Unless I cut the trip short, I’m leaving Wednesday morning.”
“It’s only Thursday, James. Are you insane? There’s no way you’ll survive five days in that house. Please tell me you’re staying in a hotel.”
“Where on Geneva Key would you suggest I find a hotel, Cora?” The laugh came unexpectedly, yet it felt good. I’d missed these kinds of conversations with her—the ones that went on endlessly about nothing where we’d both forgotten why we’d called to start with.
“Maybe they’ve built one by now.”
“Yeah, right next to the Walmart and McDonald’s.”
“It could happen.”
“There’s no way in hell with the money floating around in that town the citizens will ever let the conglomerates take over.”
“Do you want to go back?” Her tone was introspective, and had she not just been on some tirade about France, I’d wonder if she longed to return. Then again, as it stood in her mind, anything was better than where she was.
“For good?”
“Yeah. I always thought you’d find your way home. Geneva Key suited you.”
“It suits old people who smell like wealth.”
“At some point, the tides will turn. Our grandparents’ generation will pass away, and a new one will take over.”
“Yeah, our parents who will replace them and reminisce about a time when things were different, and youngsters were more respectful. It’s a cycle, Cora. There will always be an older generation spearheading that island until we are that generation.” The miles kept passing as I cruised toward the destination in question.
“Maybe not, time could weed them out. And just like every other beach-front community, younger people seek refuge until they overtake it.”
“Except there’s nothing there to appeal to anyone who still has color in their hair.”
“All it takes is one. One person to bring something in that appeals to others. You should think about that.”
“Think about what?”
“Being that one person.”
“This conversation has gone so far off course, I don’t even remember where we started.” I knew exactly where it began—her hating France and my desperate attempt to convince her to come home…ten months early.
“That’s okay. It served its purpose. You cheered me up and got my mind off how much I miss the US and wish I were home…well, until I just thought about it. Now I want to be back in the States again.”
I didn’t need to tell her “I told you so,” because she already knew she
’d made a mistake. This wasn’t something I could fix or even ease her frustration of—she’d chosen a path away from me, and until she returned, there wasn’t anything I could do other than lend her an ear. Although, if she asked me to come see her, to spend time with her, I doubted I could say no. Since that request hadn’t come in the fourteen months she’d been there, I didn’t expect it to come in the next ten.
“Any idea what your mom has planned?”
I’d zoned out and had no idea if she’d said anything in the past couple minutes other than the last sentence she’d just uttered.
“Not a clue. Torturing me might be the main event…you never know.”
“You’re so melodramatic. Besides, they’d never do that in public—it might tarnish their image. Do you think my grandmother will be there?”
The laugh that escaped my mouth broke through the words I spoke. “How would I know? She’s your family; has she mentioned it?”
“The monthly newsletter hasn’t come out yet, but it wasn’t in the Fourth of July edition.” The levity in her tone tugged at my heart.
God, I missed her.
“I’ll tell you if she signs the guest book.”
“Oh, oh, better yet. FaceTime me and then walk up to her with your phone in your hand. That will freak my grandmother out, and she’ll spend the next hour talking about how inconsiderate technology users are. It’ll be fantastic, and you can keep me live so I can witness it—it’ll be just like I’m there.”
This was the lightest I’d heard her since we’d started chatting again. The gaiety in her voice and the playfulness of her suggestion had a grin plastered to my face.
“I might take you up on that.”
“Don’t you dare!” Her gasp rang through the phone as though the air had just breezed right by my ear. I could almost feel the warmth of her words meeting my skin while I waited for her lips to follow. “Gwendolyn would disown me. It’d be a disgrace to the Chase name.”
I couldn’t quite tell if she’d gone serious or was continuing this charade of giving a shit what her grandmother thought. My best guess was she couldn’t even recall the last time she’d talked to her. There was a tiny piece of me that felt sorry for Gwendolyn Chase. She’d tried over the years to make amends with Cora, yet the little spitfire had refused her advances and kept her at arm’s length.
When the giggles subsided, and the line quieted, the weight of her tone rested firmly on my heart. “Are you really going to be all right there, James? I hate that you’re going alone.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s just my parents…and like a hundred of their closest friends.” I tried to keep the situation from turning deep. She didn’t need to worry about me, at least not this.
“Call me if you need me, promise?”
“Sure. But I’m a big boy, Cora. I can hold my own with my parents and the other socialites of Geneva Key.”
“I miss you.”
I longed for her to replace that middle word with one she’d used a thousand times. One day, I’d hear her tell me she loved me again. Until then, I clung to this as if the sentiment were the same. “I miss you, too, Cora.”
8
Chelsea
I hadn’t been in this town long enough to be familiar with it. Even though the island was small, there were times details escaped me. It was easier to have Dottie drop me off than to risk getting lost. When I stepped inside, the flurry of activity startled me. Before I could get caught up in the anxiety that lingered in unfamiliar places, Jared—the guy who hired me yesterday—stepped out of his office.
“Hey, Chelsea. You’re right on time. Everyone is loading up so go grab a seat in the van.”
I’d bartended back home while I was in college, and it was an easy gig to fall back on. The tips were good without an abundance of hours, and while this job wasn’t in a club, the owner of the catering company assured me their high-end clientele tipped well and made the obscure hours worth the effort. Yet money wasn’t really a driving force. It gave me something to do and people to interact with, and there weren’t many career choices available in Geneva Key.
I didn’t speak to anyone during the ride. Instead, I took note of how we all looked similar in our tuxedo shirts and black slacks. The others had met before, but no one made conversation with me, so I watched the beach pass until we pulled up to a palatial home that made my own feel like a shoebox. Once we entered through the back door and were assigned to stations, I realized the vast opulence in this place left me cold. Dottie’s house was nothing in comparison—it felt lived in, not preserved. Her little three-bedroom bungalow breathed life into anyone who walked through the door and quickly became a place I never wanted to leave.
The bar had been set up and stocked before I arrived, leaving me with nothing to do other than wait for a customer. Then before any of the guests arrived, the host paid me a visit. I plastered a smile on my face and willed my hands not to shake in her presence. She looked familiar, although wealth had a way of making things obscure. The woman looked like every other millionaire I’d seen here since I arrived.
She didn’t wait for me to greet her before she informed me of her expectations. “My guests will be arriving shortly, so let me get you familiar quickly. We only serve top shelf, you’re not to accept tips, and if anyone has the audacity to request a beer, it needs to be served in a chilled glass. Under no circumstances do I care to find empty bottles littering my home. Understood?”
A tremor shook my right hand, and I stuffed it in my pocket, hoping she hadn’t seen it. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jared made sure I knew that all hosts and their guests should be addressed with respect. The woman who’d never bothered to introduce herself gave me a quick nod and moved to the next employee, likely giving him a similar welcome. It shouldn’t have bothered me. I was being paid to do a job, though I didn’t think it would hurt if she smiled or even said hello.
I noticed with the arrival of the first party goer, the hostess had a different face—and likely personality—for those in her circle. Her plastic expression never dropped, and I watched her with interest until someone under the age of fifty came into view. He was attractive and definitely tall, but it wasn’t his good looks that held my interest. The way he carried himself told me he was no stranger to this type of gathering. He had a part to play, and he did it well; however, his eyes gave away his unhappiness.
The blue-eyed boy with mussed hair was clearly the adult son of the host I’d met earlier. And since no introductions had been made, I just sat back and watched his social torture unfold while I filled drinks for his parents’ privileged friends. That was until I lost track of him when a wave of thirsty old men created a line in front of me.
By the time he’d made another appearance, the night was nearly over. My legs had grown stiff, and I desperately needed to move. Without anyone to relieve my post, I distracted myself by eavesdropping on the conversation a few feet away.
When his father clapped his shoulder, I expected him to smile. Instead, he appeared bored and maybe even irritated.
Then his father spoke to the other man standing with them. “He’s making the old man proud, Doug.”
There was no recognition that crossed his son’s face.
“Following in his father’s footsteps in the Financial District in New York.” His father laid it on thick.
So he lived in New York. It didn’t surprise me. He had the air of a city dweller—Chicago had been full of them. Wealthy yuppies who had escaped their parents’ world only to start one of their own in another town thinking they were different than the privilege they’d grown up in. While he didn’t give off the arrogant vibe, there was no denying he wasn’t here on his own accord.
“That’s a fine career choice. I’m sure your father has been a plethora of help and a wealth of added opportunities.” Doug gave his acquaintance a smug look that made me want to smack the taste out of his mouth.
There was something off, like the young guy wanted to challenge Do
ug’s statement, or maybe even his father’s. Instead, he bit his tongue. With a nod of indifference, he politely excused himself, an obligatory smile straining his lips—it was the same plastic grin his mother had repeatedly shown throughout the evening.
I straightened my spine when he made a beeline for the bar I tended, not wanting him to see my discomfort. I didn’t have much longer on the clock, and I needed to make it to the end of the shift. Dottie had put in a good word with Jared to get me the job, and I couldn’t let her down. She’d lived in this town for longer than I’d been alive—I’d make her proud if it killed me.
He glanced over his shoulder at the group of men his father still talked to when he stepped up. When I asked him what I could get him, he was either distracted or didn’t hear me. I didn’t think my voice had trembled, so I tried again.
“Sir?”
When he turned his focus to me, he was clearly taken aback. His crystal-blue eyes stared at my hair for an especially long time without meeting my gaze. I hoped he was admiring my unusual strawberry-blond hair and not something inappropriate clinging to it. His attention made me uncomfortable, so I cleared my throat, hoping he’d respond.
“Can I get you something, sir?”
“Do you have any beer back there?”
“Unlikely anything you’d drink.” I winked at him, amused by the request. I’d been standing here for hours, and not one person had ordered a beer.
He looked like he needed to loosen his tie, prop his feet up, and kick back on the couch to unwind. I couldn’t stop the mischievous grin that lifted the corners of my lips.
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