by B. E. Baker
She’s not.
It’s stupid, irritating Cooper. “What?” I grumble.
“Someone is crabby this morning. Ready to fly back to New York yet?”
“What do you want?” I ask. “Just tell me.”
“I’ve been looking into this whole Blerg debacle.”
“Berg,” I correct him automatically, before I realize he’s probably mocking it.
“Right. Whatever. The point is, once you’re done with your little vacation, I think you need to face the reality that trying to turn this particular company around was as big a mistake as you told me it would be. We need to go back to selling this one off in chunks, because this company isn’t dying. It’s dead. Have you looked at their current contracts? Three more canceled in the past two months, which means they only have two left.”
“I actually think we can fix this,” I say. “I mean, the people are bright and motivated. The plant is in good shape. They just need a new product, and then some solid contracts to produce under.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Cooper asks. “I mean, the contracts and the product—that’s the entire company. You’re basically saying the car is good. It just needs a new engine and a new body. Relax Cooper, the transmission is fine. We may as well sell the parts that work and buy a whole new car.”
“Look, I’ve got a lot of contacts and a few ideas for a product that, with a few minor modifications and a few new pieces of equipment, they could manufacture.”
“Dude, I know your girlfriend is hot, and if that’s your reason, that’s fine. You own this, after all, but if you guys break up, and I feel the odds of that are high, then you’re stuck with a corporate corpse. Her family is totally incapable of managing it, obviously.”
“So we hire a manager.”
“Who you’ll have to fly down to manage yourself. I mean, if you want to relocate to the Alabama of Western Europe to start selling widgets, that’s your prerogative. But this is way out of right field, and I want it excluded from my numbers for my annual bonus.”
“You’re lucky I pay you a bonus at all, with the way you’re talking to me.” I’d fire him for insubordination, except he’s very good at what he does, and he’s saying the exact same thing I’d have told myself last week.
“I’m trying to help, Jim. If you want to make your grandpop’s deadline, you should be doubling down, not playing house.”
A hundred million dollars. That’s what I’m supposed to be focused on right now. It won’t take the rest of my life, but I’ve got another sixty million to go and less than four months to close that gap. Cooper’s right. This may be my only real chance to ever pay Dad back.
My list.
I dropped the grudge against Paul, who’s now getting married from what I hear. I didn’t ruin his last tech, which was a wireless EKG. And that’s when it hits me.
With two modest purchases, the plant we toured yesterday could manufacture those EKGs. And Paisley knows Trudy, fairly well I think. If she’s willing to call in a few favors, she could make her family’s company profitable.
WE NEED TO TALK, I text.
WE’RE GOING TO SEE THE OTHER PLANT TODAY, AREN’T WE?
I ASSUME IT’S A LOT LIKE THE ONE WE SAW YESTERDAY?
Dots. Then they disappear. Finally she texts. DO YOU NEED TO GO HOME NOW?
I can’t quite help my smile. NO, BUT I HAVE AN IDEA. I’M JUST WORRIED YOU WON’T LIKE IT.
Because to ask Paul for this kind of favor, she’ll need to tell her friends who she really is. I don’t know why she’s been hiding it, but the only way to save her family company is if her two lives collide.
DO YOU WANT TO COME HERE FOR BREAKFAST? she asks.
CAN I PICK YOU UP? Less interrogation from her mom that way. And if she decides to tell me why she’s kept her past a secret, well, her family won’t be there to judge.
I THINK SO. LET ME CLEAR WITH THE PARENTS.
I shove the jealousy down deep. It’s not her fault she has a family who loves her. It’s not her fault she had exactly what I always wanted and threw it away. Maybe if I grew up with it, I might have thrown it away, too.
OKAY, I’LL BE READY IN AN HOUR. BUT I HAVE TO BE BACK BY THREE. MOM’S INSISTING ON A NEW GOWN FOR MY STUPID PARTY AND I NEED A FITTING.
Surprisingly, I’m actually looking forward to her fancy party. It’s almost like a redo of Luke’s wedding, except she knows what I did, and she looks at me like a slice of vanilla cake anyway. I have just enough time to work out and shower before I need to pick her up.
I change and rush to the gym. It’s small, but the weights are passable. I hate chest day, but it’s a necessary evil. I’ve missed so many days that my chest is actually sore when I head back upstairs to shower. I waffle back and forth between a polo shirt and a suit, but in the end, I pick the polo shirt.
When I reach Vaduz palace, I’m kicking myself. I’m picking up a literal princess and I opted for the polo shirt? Idiot.
But Paisley’s already waiting in the car park, and she’s wearing a bright yellow sun dress. She’s always been a breath of fresh air, but she looks like walking sunshine today. I don’t deserve to be picking her up. I don’t deserve to kiss her either.
But I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop, not until she makes me.
I park the car and she jogs over. “Hey there, you.”
I try not to smile like an idiot and fail miserably. “Morning. Where should we eat?”
“I know this sounds stupid,” she says, “but I really do like Subway. I’ve kind of been craving a turkey sandwich since I joked about it last night.”
“Then hop in and tell me where to drive.”
She does. I try to focus on her directions so I don’t look like a halfwit, but her graceful hands, her elegant fingers, her sideways glances, her dark eyelashes against her pale cheek, they all conspire to distract me.
“And we’re here,” she says with a smile.
We order our subs, which strikes me as an odd choice for breakfast, but from what I understand, Europeans like their meat and cheese in the morning. It’s certainly far healthier than a donut. My backside has barely hit the chair when Paisley kicks things into full-on interrogation mode.
“Why did we need to meet for breakfast?” she asks.
“I’m going to level with you,” I say. “I invested in Berg Telecom with the intention of selling the assets. The plant components, the land, the remaining trade contracts. After all, the few contracts they still have could be filled at a much larger margin in China.”
Paisley gulps.
“My team is pushing me to sell. Hard.”
“Why did you come to Liechtenstein at all?” Her eyes are flinty. “To take photos for possible buyers?”
I can’t stifle my laugh. “Photos?” I shake my head.
She scowls.
“Look, I’m not laughing at you, or I shouldn’t be. I’m sorry, genuinely. I actually came out here because I had a change of heart. I wanted to see whether we could somehow preserve the business, turn a profit, or repurpose perhaps.”
“But it’s a dead end?” she asks coldly. “And it’s time to cut your losses?”
My heart twists at the chill in the air. The woman from behind the counter drops off our subs and practically runs back to hide behind the glass. I don’t blame her.
“No, look, I still want to save it, but things are bleaker than we had hoped. I’m not sure how viable my initial hope is, in light of further contracts cancelling. Or at least, I wasn’t sure until I had a thought. What Berg Telecom needs is some new products. Diversity. Since you have two plants, the smaller of the two could easily handle the remaining contracts for landline phones.”
“Only the Vaduz plant has packaging—”
I shake my head. “That can be reconfigured. The point is that, if we transfer the current production to the smaller location, we still have the personnel and a lot of the equipment we need to make something new. Something like medical equipment, especially products with small compone
nts and profiles similar to the telephones.”
“Okay,” Paisley says. “That sounds great. Almost too good to be true.”
“Well, it’s a competitive field,” I say. “So you need to find someone who’s willing and able to pay for quality in their manufacture. New products, especially those under patent and in heavy demand, are our best bet.”
“That makes sense,” she says. “But it sounds like you might have something in mind already.”
She’s too smart to be a secretary, honestly. “I do.”
“What?” She lifts one eyebrow.
“You already know that Luke’s brother isn’t really my biggest fan.”
“You want me to call Paul and ask him to let us bid on making his new doohickey.”
“Wireless EKG,” I say. “Yes.”
“Paul has no idea I’m even in Liechtenstein, much less that. . .” She trails off. “But you’ve already thought that through. So we’re here today because in order to save my family’s company, or even have a decent shot at saving it, I need to call and ask my friend for a favor. Which means I have to tell them I’ve been lying to them for almost nine years.”
“Technically you haven’t lied,” I say. “I mean, have any of them actually asked you whether you’re a princess?”
“They think I’m in Miami right now,” she says flatly. “Geo gave me beach recommendations and offered to loan me her favorite swimsuit.”
That’s a little awkward.
“But I take your point. It’s not like it’s something that harmed them, and Paul certainly has no room to preach about the harms of lying.”
“That’s for sure,” I say. “And Luke and Trudy both forgave him.”
“They’re family,” she whispers.
“So are you,” I say. “I saw you at that wedding.”
She pokes at her sandwich, not taking a single bite. When she starts peeling the lettuce off and piling it up, I decide to intervene.
“Hey, if you didn’t want lettuce, why did you ask for it?”
“I ask for things I don’t want a lot.” She drops her sandwich on the wrapper and shoves backward in her chair. “I need to think about this.”
“I have some people I can contact,” I say. “But by far our best shot is Paul.”
“Fine,” she says. “I get it, okay?”
“Should I take you home?” Please say no. Remind me that you wanted to take me to that old cathedral.
“That’s probably a good idea,” she says.
“I have plenty of work to do at the hotel,” I say. “So that’s fine. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.”
“Yep.”
Great. I’m trying to help her, but all I’ve done is broken us. And I have no idea how to fix it. I may be more like my dad than I thought.
9
Paisley
“Mom?” I ask.
My mother is arranging flowers for tomorrow on the dining table. She spins around, her hair perfect, her makeup pristine, her dress beautifully pressed. She beams at me. “Every time I see you.” She shakes her head. “I can’t describe it, but my heart is full.”
“You could have come to visit me in Atlanta,” I say.
Her face falls. “I couldn’t have.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“You weren’t Holly Paisley von und zu Liechtenstein in Atlanta.”
I inhale.
“I would have brought to your front door what you left to escape.”
She’s right. I ran, and she could have chased me, but it would have destroyed my safe place. And now James is asking me to destroy it myself.
“James thinks he has a solution for Berg Telecom, maybe.”
Mom’s eyes light up. “That’s wonderful to hear. He might not sell it off, then?”
I swallow. “But I would need to ask a favor of one of my friends back home.”
Mom’s eyes flutter when I call Atlanta home, but she doesn’t argue with me. “A friend who doesn’t know who you really are.”
“I really am Paisley, Mom. I’m happy there.”
“In a way you weren’t here?”
“I couldn’t find joy here, Mom. Not after.”
Mom’s eyes well with tears, and I wish I could snatch my words back. I never know what to say. I never know how to behave, not here, not anymore. “You would have found it again eventually,” Mom says. “But did it ever occur to you that when you left, I lost two children instead of only one?”
Noel. I close my eyes. I can’t talk about this. I just can’t. Which is why I can’t call Paul. A simple favor, albeit a large one, would require me to lay my entire life bare.
“James knows,” Mom says. “And what does he think? If he believes you should come clean to the rest of your friends, maybe you should.”
He doesn’t have a clue. He knows I’m a princess and that I left. That’s it. I shake my head.
“What will happen if you don’t try to call in this favor?” Mom asks.
“I didn’t ruin Berg Telecom,” I say. “It’s not my fault we’re in this position.”
Mom drops a white rose and it hits the marble floor, several petals dislodging in the process. “You didn’t, but if you have the power to repair the damage, you’ll have to live with the knowledge that you didn’t.”
I can hear Cole on the main stairway from the very first step and turn to watch him lumber down.
“You still sound like a buffalo when you walk,” I say.
“And you still sound just like an American,” Cole says. “We don’t have buffalo here.”
“Your loss,” I say. “Their meat is delicious.”
Cole’s lip curls up. “You’re kidding.”
“Where are you going?” I ask. “Another date?”
“Oh please,” Cole says.
“What?”
“I didn’t have a date.”
My mouth drops. “Are you kidding?”
He grins at me. “I figured you two could use a little alone time. You looked. . . uncomfortable with him being here, with being outed. I thought you might have some talking to do.” He glances from Mom, who is focused intently on the flower arrangement in front of her that looks completely done, back to me. “I expected you would be with him right now, honestly.”
“I was supposed to be.”
“And?” Cole lifts his eyebrows. “Did he go home early?”
“Wouldn’t you just love that?” I look sideways at Mom.
“Don’t point that hostility my direction,” Mom says. “I actually like him. I’ve looked into his family. There’s no royalty in America, but if there was. . .”
I roll my eyes. “And if he was a plumber?”
Mom throws her hands up in the air. “Why do you always make everything harder than it needs to be? He’s not a plumber.”
And he’s not my boyfriend either, but I don’t tell her that. Too much fallout. And as I’ve already proven time and again, I’m a complete coward.
“Where are you going?” I ask Cole.
“To the workshop,” he says.
My eyes light up. “Really?”
He grins. “Want to come with me?”
“I really do.”
I rush upstairs and grab my purse. Cole and I arrive even faster than I remember. I have more fun at the workshop than I’ve had in a long time, and as a bonus it keeps me from obsessing over the fact that James hasn’t texted or called. I also manage not to think about what to do about Paul or my friends in Atlanta. I didn’t put Berg Telecom into the situation it’s in, but I wasn’t here to help when Dad began his decline. Which means it’s sort of my fault, any way you look at it.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Cole on our way home.
“For what?” he asks.
“I never thought, until today, about how my leaving made life harder for all of you.”
Cole keeps his eyes trained intently on the road, even though it’s almost entirely straight and he’s driven it one gazillion times.
�
��When Noel died.” I shake my head. “It broke me.”
“It broke all of us.”
“I know it did,” I say. “But—”
“But you two were closer,” Cole says. “You two were part of some super secret club the rest of us never could join.”
I’ve never heard my brother sound so bitter.
“I know he loved you more than the rest of us,” Cole says. “But we loved him too. And when he left, we lost you both.”
Now I’m the one looking out the window. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
“And then you never came back.”
“At first it hurt too bad,” I say. “I couldn’t come home. I wasn’t sure I’d ever breathe right again.”
“I know the feeling,” Cole whispers.
“But then, I met people in Atlanta,” I say. “And it was so different there. No one knew me, and no one treated me like a princess. I had to work hard. Harder than I’ve ever worked, but I did it. I learned things. I tried new things, and no one watched to snap photos when I failed. No one expected anything of me, or mocked me when I messed up.”
“Which means you didn’t let anyone down.”
“I’m sick of people acting like my being an executive assistant is a disappointment.” I clench my hands in my lap. “Why do people have to make a billion dollars, or conquer something, or be the best person in the whole entire world for someone to be proud of them?” I finally look at my brother.
His hands clench the steering wheel. His shoulders are tense.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I guess it’s a sore point. I grew up being pushed and prodded. Piano, dance, flute, manners, language lessons, tutoring in every subject. I was shoved, cajoled, and chivvied into becoming some pinnacle of achievement. So that what? I can arrange flowers while people do everything that matters for me?”
“What does that mean?” Cole asks.
“I like cleaning my own toilet,” I say. “I know that sounds gross. It sounds stupid, but it’s dirty, and then I spray toilet cleaner, and I use a sponge, and it’s clean. I didn’t even know how to do that before I moved to Atlanta. My roommate Geo had to show me. And she was this model, Cole. She was the most stunningly beautiful person I’d ever seen, much more of a princess than me, and she taught me the life skills I never learned.”
