by Lizzie Shane
Now there was no chance of them magically hooking up and that lingering weight of futile hope had lifted. This was better. They could just be friends.
She should have told him years ago.
* * * * *
Why hadn’t she told him years ago?
Max strode down the sidewalk toward the parking spot he’d snagged at the end of Main, but his thoughts were firmly back in Common Grounds. He’d stopped in to make sure she was all right after the night before. He’d never seen Parvati so pessimistic, but this morning everything had been fine. She was the same old Parvati.
He was the one who had changed.
Something had shifted. Some subtle little mechanism inside him that kept her safely inside the Friend Zone.
He hadn’t really looked at Parvati in years. She was a fixture in his life. Sidney’s best friend. Off-limits. But did she have to be? It made sense for him to keep his distance when they were younger, but they were both adults now. Capable of making their own decisions—and when she’d said she had a crush on him it had planted the seed that had taken root in his brain while he slept last night.
She had referred to the crush in the past tense. She might not even be interested. Hell, she might be seeing someone. Though she’d said she couldn’t find anyone she wanted to go on a second date with—which was insane. Were all the men in California blind? How the hell was she still single?
Max wasn’t winning any medals for relationship longevity, and God knew she could do better than his sorry, commitment-averse ass, but he couldn’t seem to get the idea out of his head. Maybe all she wanted was a fling.
A fling with Parvati. The idea was interesting. Very interesting.
Chapter Seven
Taunted by Max’s words about working too hard, Parvati left Common Grounds ten minutes after closing time. Trying to remember who she was before she became work obsessed, she put on workout clothes and sneakers and headed down to the marina park.
The park, with miles of landscaped paths overlooking the Pacific, had always been one of her favorite places in Eden, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been down here. Certainly long enough that after five minutes of torturous jogging she slowed to a walk.
She’d never been much of a runner. Running was Sidney’s drug of choice and Parv had only come along for the company and the views—and to combat the inevitable expansion of her thighs when she sampled her own recipes a little too frequently.
It was a magnificent afternoon, even by California standards, as if the universe had decided to reward her for her decision to take some time for herself. The sun glittered on the ocean, but a light breeze off the water kept it from feeling too hot.
Parv passed families picnicking and a bridal couple posing for wedding photos. The happy couple beamed at one another, capturing this moment of blissful happiness for the rest of their lives, neither of them looking old enough to vote—which only reminded her of Katie. Just a baby and already engaged.
She rounded a corner and saw another bridal pair—much more elaborately dressed than the casual, beachy look of the previous couple—and looking even younger. Parvati moved more quickly, practically power-walking down the path until she rounded another bend.
Another gorgeous vista. Another pair of bridal babies.
What the hell? Eden had always been a popular spot for destination weddings and she’d seen her fair share of bridal parties taking photos at the marina park before, but this was ridiculous. Everywhere she looked she kept seeing more of them—and none of them could be older than twenty-five.
She knew the popularity of Sidney’s new wedding planning show had turned Eden into even more of a wedding hot spot, but she hadn’t been prepared to be bombarded with baby brides.
Maybe one of the couples was working with Sidney and Tori at Once Upon a Bride. Maybe Sidney was even here.
Parv pulled out her cell phone, dialing by heart, but the phone didn’t even ring before it went through to voicemail. At least in the past she would have been able to commiserate with Sidney. They would have been walking together. Sidney would have been making mental notes about which photographers seemed to be the best with the couples.
High-pitched laughter drew her eye to a craggy outcropping where a petite and perfect bride was being thrown over the shoulder of her manly groom, much to the delight of the photographer.
Parv looked away on a jab of jealousy. Damn it.
How had she suddenly become old for a bride? She wasn’t even thirty, damn it. People were getting married and starting families into their forties now. She had time—but the universe seemed to be conspiring to tell her she was over the hill, matrimonially.
Or maybe it was just telling her that it was time. Time to move on with her life. Time to stop comparing every man she met to Max. Time to stop relying on her friends to make her feel complete.
Time to find a date for Katie’s wedding.
And time to close Common Grounds.
This was it.
She was going to do it. Close the shop. Start new. Maybe even start e-dating again. It was time.
* * * * *
“Max. What are you doing here?”
The first person Max saw when he walked into the lawyers’ office on Monday was his mother, frowning at him in confusion. “Dad seemed to think I needed to be present. Didn’t he tell you?”
“We’re communicating exclusively through lawyers these days,” Marguerite Dewitt replied, without a trace of emotion. But then, there had never been much emotion involved in the alliance between his parents.
Max had always figured there must have been some heat, some passion in the beginning, some spark that drew them together in the first place, but by the time he was old enough to remember, his parents’ marriage had been clinical. Businesslike.
Their divorce was apparently going to be the same.
“We’ll get started as soon as your father and his team arrive. Would you like anything?” His mother guided him to a sideboard set up with coffee, tea, bottled water and various crackers and cheeses.
“I’m fine.”
It was disconcerting, seeing her so calm. He didn’t know why he’d expected anything different. When she’d informed him six months ago that she was divorcing his father, she’d been cool as the proverbial cucumber. The most shocking thing about the entire thing was that either of them wanted to bother with a divorce. They’d pretty much lived their own lives for the last decade, coming together only when holidays demanded it or work schedules permitted. He couldn’t imagine either of them was unhappy with the situation—they were too detached from one another for that much emotion.
“This is just a formality,” his mother explained. “We’ve already negotiated the settlement. Today we’ll just be reading over everything one last time and signing. Then there will be a hearing in a few weeks to finalize things. Barring any unforeseen legal obstacles, the entire thing should be resolved before Halloween.”
“Great,” Max said, since she seemed to want him to say something.
Thankfully his father arrived before he had to get any more enthusiastic about his parents’ divorce.
“Max. So glad you could make it.” His father clapped him on the shoulder before turning to his soon-to-be-ex wife. “Marguerite. You look well.”
“Thank you, Titus. You as well.” Perfectly civil.
Max wanted to shake them both.
“Shall we get started?” his father asked as the lawyers filed in around the giant conference table.
Max held back. “Isn’t Sidney coming?”
“She couldn’t make it.” His father explained. “Filming today, apparently. You’ll be representing both your interests today. Sidney was never particularly interested in the business anyway.”
Max didn’t argue—he didn’t know whether his father was right or not about Sidney’s disinterest, but arguing with Titus Dewitt was about as effective as trying to empty the desert of sand one handful at a time—you could keep
working at it for days and never make any noticeable progress.
His parents took their seats on either side of the table, flanked by what looked like twenty-seven lawyers each. Max hesitated, unsure where to sit, feeling a distinct jab of discomfort at the idea that he had to quite literally pick a side.
“Max.” His father jerked his chin to the empty chair three down from his on the paternal side of the table.
Max’s gaze flicked to his mother, who gave a slight nod to the chair as well, so he decided he was being ridiculous and took the empty space so they could begin.
It was all legalese, but everyone in the room was fluent in the language, so things moved quickly. Concerns were raised and dealt with in a brisk, businesslike manner. His parents had a prenup—not surprising, given their personalities and careers—but there were still details to work through and Max listened absently to the minutiae and the sound of several dozen lawyers turning pages in tandem.
The only part that seemed to impact him at all, or struck him as at all strange, was the language about current and future children. He and Sidney were listed by name in the section establishing a trust both of his parents agreed to pay into equally which they would inherit upon the death of one or both of them. But in the section negating Marguerite’s claim on Titacorp holdings in the event of Titus’s death, the language about Titus’s heirs was suspiciously vague—referring to any current or future children of Titus Dewitt.
Max understood that the lawyers wanted to dot every I and cross every T, and Titus was still capable of fathering more children, but why wouldn’t the lawyers refer to him and Sidney by name as the current children? Unless there were other Dewitts floating around that Titus already knew about. Was there more to this divorce than he’d suspected? A scandal behind the emotionless façade?
Now didn’t seem to be the time to ask if Titus was fathering children all over the globe, so Max kept his mouth shut. Neither he nor Sidney had ever wanted a controlling share of Titacorp anyway. They’d been trained since birth to build something of their own and the lesson had clearly stuck.
Max listened to the rest of the reading of the settlement, watched his parents sign, and that was it. No fanfare. No drama. All business.
His parents and their lawyers stood, shaking hands all around. His father announced that he had an afternoon flight to catch and wove through his lawyers to clasp Max’s shoulder. “Thank you for being here.”
“I still don’t see why it was necessary.”
“It’s important that you understand that regardless of what happens between your mother and me, you are my legacy.”
What if I’m not sure I want to be?
His father and his entourage cleared out and Max fell in beside his mother on their way out of the building. “That was odd.”
His mother didn’t ask him what. “Your father’s legacy is very important to him.”
He almost asked then. Almost asked her if his father had other children Max didn’t know about, but the last thing he wanted to do was upset her immediately after she’d signed her divorce settlement papers. If that would upset her. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his mother upset.
“Sidney’s coming up to the house for lunch on Saturday. Would you like to join us?”
“Sure. I hardly see her anymore since she’s started filming the new show with Josh.”
Her mother made an agreeable noise as they emerged into the parking lot. “She seems happy though. With him. With the show.”
“I think she is.” Max kept his tone as neutral as his mother’s had been. “He’s a good guy.”
His mother’s lips twitched. “Did you run a background check on him before or after they started dating?”
“Both.” He grinned at his mother’s short, rarely used laugh. “You can never be too careful.”
“And you, Max? Are you seeing anyone?”
Parv’s face flashed in his mind, but he just shook his head. “You know better than to start looking to me for grandchildren.”
His mother pursed her lips, considering the comment. “I might like being a grandmother. And don’t sell yourself short, Maximus. You could be a wonderful father.”
“I’ll stick to uncle, if you don’t mind.” Her driver pulled her car around and he stepped forward to open the door for her. “See you Saturday.”
“Noon. Don’t be late.”
Chapter Eight
Parv sat across from her employees during the Monday afternoon lull, wishing she had a cup of coffee to hold so she would know what to do with her hands. Anna didn’t work Mondays, but she’d made a special trip for this meeting and now looked as uncomfortable as Parv felt. It was only the thirteenth, but Parv had hidden in the office when Madison arrived for her shift and gotten their paychecks ready early, hoping that would soften the blow of what she had to tell them.
She hadn’t really loved the people management aspect of owning her own business—she’d always figured during interviews that she was more nervous than the person applying and the one time in the last five years that she’d had to fire someone, a high school brat who showed up late and missed shifts, had practically given her an ulcer—but she loved these girls.
They were smart. They were hardworking. They were responsible and seemed to genuinely love working at Common Grounds.
They deserved better than to lose their jobs, but Parv consoled herself that they would get better ones. She would do everything in her power to make that happen.
She forced herself to meet their eyes and forced a smile—then wondered if smiling in this situation was inappropriate and let it fall from her face, trying to project an air of calm reassurance instead. Though she was pretty sure all she was projecting was seven different kinds of crazy since her face couldn’t seem to decide which kind of expression to wear.
Madison’s brow wrinkled in concern. Anna just began to look pissed—but then Anna generally looked angry whenever things surprised her. Parv glanced toward the front door—the most cowardly part of her wishing that a customer would come into the empty shop and force her to postpone the announcement—but all she saw was the sunshine outside. Another gorgeous day in Eden, California.
Not a bad day for the shop to die.
“So.” Parv swallowed hard, looking back to her faithful duo. “Here’s the situation. And I’d appreciate it if you can keep it to yourselves as much as you’re able to. Obviously that won’t be for long—” They’d need to start looking for other jobs. She’d give them glowing recommendations. Parv took a deep breath and forced herself to say it. “I’m closing Common Grounds.”
Madison sucked in a sharp breath.
Anna just looked grim. “The Blue Mountain,” she said.
Parv nodded. “That was the canary in the coal mine, but we’ve been struggling for a while now—” Or ever since they opened. “—and I’ve come to the decision that it’s time to start winding things down. Our lease goes until the end of the year and nothing is going to change right away—though we’ll have shortages in some of our usual products, like the Blue Mountain, as we start using up our stock.”
Madison sniffed and Parv shot her a desperate look. “Please don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry. This is good for you guys. You’re so much better than this. I’ll give you the best recommendations you’ve ever seen and you’ll get jobs that pay you what you deserve.”
Anna’s lips pursed tight, but she didn’t say a word—which made Parv nervous. Anna never held back her opinions.
“You don’t need to worry that I’m not going to be able to pay you.” She retrieved the envelopes from the capacious pocket of her cardigan. “In fact, payday is a little early this month. I just want you both to feel very comfortable with everything that’s happening. For now it’s business as usual—we’ll keep selling coffee, I’ll keep making pastries, nothing has to change right away—but I felt you had the right to know.”
“When?” Anna spoke, the single word rough.
“I’m not sure
exactly. November, most likely. Six or seven weeks from now. Maybe less. And we may cut our hours back before then. So if you have a better offer before then you’re under no obligation to stay.”
“I’ll stay.”
Parv smiled, touched by the show of support from Anna, her least touchy-feely employee. “Keep your options open. You never know what the next few months will bring.”
“I want to stay too,” Madison added.
“No one is being laid off today. This is just so you can prepare yourselves.”
“Isn’t there any way we can save the shop?” Madison asked. “Some new promotion?”
“Jesus, Bambi, you think she hasn’t thought of that?” Anna snapped.
“Hey,” Parv intervened, waiting until the two of them stopped glowering at each other. “It’s a nice thought, but the writing’s been on the wall for a while now. It’s time. Common Grounds is done.”
* * * * *
She managed not to cry until she was alone in the back office and even then it was just a few quiet, dignified sniffles. Anna had snatched up her check and stalked out. Madison had returned behind the counter and begun cleaning things—as if she could polish Common Grounds into success. Parv had told her she didn’t have to finish out her shift—she was only on for another half hour and there were no customers anyway, but Madison had given her such a look of betrayal that Parv had retreated back to the office to “take care of some paperwork” to give Madison time to process the news in her own way.
She barely cried. Her eyes were hardly even wet when she fished out her cell phone and dialed Sidney’s number again—not expecting an answer since it was one thirty on a Monday afternoon and if she couldn’t get Sidney during non-working hours she didn’t have a snowball’s chance right now.
“Hello?”
“Sid! I caught you.”
