Finding Holly

by B. E. Baker

  “The what now?” Grandfather asks.

  “Her father is the Ruling Prince of Liechtenstein.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “It’s a very small country in Europe,” Paisley says. “It’s not a surprise that you haven’t heard of it. Most people outside of Germany and Austria aren’t familiar with it, even in Europe.”

  Grandfather’s laugh sounds like the bark of a geriatric seal. “That’s wild.” He pins his gaze on me. “So you come here a few months ago, and you’re the consummate bachelor. And now you come back to introduce me to your far-too-lovely wife, and she’s a princess?” He slaps the desk. “I am impressed.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “When I get a good look at my wife, I’m frequently impressed with myself too.”

  “When was the wedding?” he asks.

  “Two days ago,” I say. “We came to see you as soon as we could.”

  Grandfather looks from Paisley to me and back again. Then he swears. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  “You couldn’t make the ceremony,” I say. “Dad told me you’re not allowed to travel.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” he asks.

  “We’ll leave on a honeymoon soon enough.” Paisley puts her hand on mine. “But we wanted to come and apologize for not holding the ceremony here in the United States first.”

  “A princess doesn’t need to apologize, certainly not to me.”

  “Well, I owe you a debt of gratitude.” Paisley beams at me. “Without you, there would be no James, and he has made my life better in a lot of ways.”

  “Has he now?” Grandfather asks. “I’d love to hear those.”

  So would I.

  “Well, for one, he always thinks about little things. For instance, he had pie from my favorite place in our room on our wedding night.”

  “Pie, did you say?” He snorts.

  “He makes me laugh every day,” she says.

  “Is that all?”

  Paisley frowns, but I watch as she tries to be polite. “When dragons pursue me, he slays them.”

  “Is that so?” Grandfather asks. “He slays dragons, eh?”

  “Economic dragons,” Paisley says.

  “Well, he’s always been good at tearing things up,” he says.

  “He builds me up,” Paisley says softly. “By always being supportive, kind, and helpful.”

  “And I wanted to tell you that I managed to complete the task you set me to do, several weeks early, even.” I pull a folder from my briefcase and hand it to him. “I barely made it, but I’ve topped one billion dollars, and every penny of the increase is from growth strategies. I own twelve new companies, all of which have increased substantially in value during the months I’ve owned them.”

  Grandfather beams. “Now tell me this.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Did you do what your grandmother asked? Did you forgive me?”

  I swallow and sit down. Paisley sits next to me. “Gigi asked me the first year after she died to start a charity. That one was easy.”

  “What did you do?” Paisley asks. “You never did tell me.”

  “Gigi twisted balloons,” I say. “After he left her, grandfather gave her enough that she didn’t have to work. But she was a busy woman who needed to work. She learned to twist balloons, and she made them into all kinds of things. Every animal you could imagine. Over the summer, every Wednesday night, we’d go to the local children’s hospital and go from bed to bed. I carried her balloons, and she’d make those kids anything they asked for.”

  “So you started a balloon twisting foundation?” Paisley asks.

  Grandfather chuckles.

  “Not quite, but that interaction gave me a profound sorrow for those sick kids. They dealt with things I never even fully understood, much less faced.”

  Paisley frowns.

  “I funded a new wing for a children’s hospital in New York.”

  “You never told me that,” Paisley says.

  I shrug. “I didn’t want you to think I was bragging, especially not after I found out about Noel.”

  Her hand squeezes my arm. “I wouldn’t have thought that.”

  Grandfather’s eyes bounce between us like a ping pong ball.

  “But in year two.” I sigh. “Gigi asked me to forgive this old man here.”

  “And did you?” he asks again.

  “I did,” I say. “That doesn’t mean I crave your approval or even particularly care what you think, but I’m not angry anymore. I let that go. I don’t need to resent you on Gigi’s behalf. She’s the one who wanted me to forgive you, after all, and you helped me understand that things are always more complicated than they appear.”

  “Not always, perhaps.” Grandfather looks down, reviewing the paperwork. His head snaps up. “What was this year’s task? Or are they done?”

  Heat explodes in my face. “She gave me another.”

  “What was it?” Paisley asks. “I wanted to know, too.”

  I duck my head, unable to meet her eye. “Gigi told me to get married.”

  Paisley’s laugh fills the room and lifts my spirits. “Well, check and double check.”

  “You two must stay for dinner,” grandfather says. “I’ll review this paperwork, and then we can finalize things afterward.”

  If conversation was a little forced in grandfather’s office, dinner is borderline painful. Diane is so pregnant she looks like she could pop, and the flirty, forced cheer from my last visit is gone. “How wonderful you could come unannounced.” She glares at Paisley. “But now that dinner is over, I have some friends coming to meet me for one last night out.”

  She’s going out on the town? A week before her baby is born?

  “What are you doing with your friends?” Paisley asks. “Fancy dessert? Pedicures?”

  Diane’s eyebrows shift almost imperceptibly, but her eyes flash with anger. “We’re going dancing, of course.”

  “Right,” Paisley says. “Probably won’t be doing that much after the baby comes.”

  “Why not?” Diane’s lips compress together.

  Paisley gulps and looks at me.

  I laugh and she jabs me.

  “You’re useless,” she mutters.

  “Well, always a pleasure to see you, James,” Diane purrs, and then leaves the room. Thankfully.

  “Thanks for dinner,” I say. “But we need to be going too.”

  Grandfather stands up and shakes my hand. “Well I’m just delighted for all your good news.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But I’m afraid I won’t be able to make you the trustee and sole beneficiary of my irrevocable trust as we discussed.”

  Paisley blinks. “But he met your terms.”

  He shakes his head. “No, I wanted him to build something for himself. Every dime of it. Your money doesn’t count.”

  Paisley practically spits at him. “You think a marriage doesn’t count as building something? It’s a feat you never managed to carry for very long.”

  Grandfather’s eyebrows rise. “Seeing as you’ve only managed two days, I don’t think my grandson is in a position of strength yet, either.” He turns toward me and shoots me a knowing look. “She’s a real spitfire, isn’t she?”

  I don’t even know what to say.

  “You’re every bit as horrible as James said you were,” she says. “And a liar to boot. Your grandson jumped through all your hoops, and he did it gracefully. Well, I have news for you. We don’t want your filthy money anyway.” She spins on her heel and storms out the front door.

  “Oh James,” he says. “You must understand, deep down, why I couldn’t really have given the trust to you. Your dad only has one child, so you’ll get it all eventually, but the dangling carrot was the wake up call you needed. Look at what you’ve done since I threw down that lure! Bravo, my boy. Bravo. Now, don’t screw this up like I did. You go and you spend your life making that little spitfire happy.”

&
nbsp; I should be fuming. I should punch him in his age-spot covered nose for that stupid prank he pulled on me, but I don’t.

  Because he’s right.

  If he hadn’t set me on this path, I’d have sold Berg Telecom immediately. I’d never have flown to Liechtenstein at all. I’ve never have been given the chance to recover from my epic failure in not calling Paisley after Luke’s wedding.

  I wouldn’t love Holly Paisley von und zu Liechtenstein with every single corner of my twisted, broken, greedy heart if my grandfather hadn’t dangled his gold plated carrot in front of me. So instead of being incensed, I’m grateful. She never would have proposed without his lure, either. I wouldn’t have been able to swing for the fences. I wouldn’t have seen her in that stunning wedding gown, walking down the aisle toward me. I wouldn’t have the opportunity that I have now, to turn this into something real.

  “Thank you,” I say simply. Then I chase my beautiful, infuriating spitfire princess of a wife out the door and to the parked car.

  She’s already buckled when I reach her. I climb in next to her, preparing myself to be glum.

  “I’ve already emailed my lawyer,” she says, her face locked onto the window like a heat seeking missile aimed at a furnace.

  “Huh?” I ask.

  “I’m sorry to have put you through all of that for nothing.”

  “No,” I say. “It’s not your fault.”

  She turns to look at me then and what I see in her eyes scares me. She’s furious. “Of course it’s my fault. I’m the one who had the stupid idea to begin with. I dragged you all the way to Europe and put you through this farce, and then you still didn’t win.”

  I open my mouth to argue with her, but I realize it’s a tremendous waste of time right now. I can’t win this here, in the shadow of my grandfather’s mansion. In fact, if she’s this upset about not getting that trust, I may already have lost.

  19

  Paisley

  I have always loved my apartment, even if none of the furniture matches, and it’s all a little worn. Actually maybe that’s why I like it. I chose every single chair, every table, and every throw pillow myself. I worked to earn the money for them, and I put them right where they are. Nothing was passed down for three hundred years from some old relative, and nothing had some intrinsic value that makes it something I have to keep. If I hate something, I trash it. I’ve never hung on to ugly pastorals or bizarre portraits because they’re worth a hundred thousand dollars.

  But right now I can’t even look at my apartment.

  So, I go to work. I always loved my job. I loved the lists, the routines, the scheduling. I loved the challenge of making things work, of finding efficiencies, and providing a clear, calm, ordered life for Mary and her family. I’m sitting at the desk I picked out, in the chair Mary surprised me with, and I’m miserable. I had a job and an apartment and a life that I loved.

  Before I met James.

  Maybe I wasn’t giddy with joy every single moment, but I had way more ups than downs. Not anymore. Since his horrible grandfather told me he lost, and I realized an annulment was looming on the horizon, I have hated everything, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.

  “I don’t understand why you came in to work today at all,” Mary says.

  “You thought I’d leave you in the lurch?” I ask. “With Sub-for-Santa on high alert, and the office . . .” I trail off, because the office is mostly dead this time of year. I mean, we have some accounting work to complete by year end, but it’s nothing like the crazy buzz around tax deadlines. People can say what they will about the IRS, but they don’t ruin the holidays.

  “You’re the world’s best executive assistant,” Mary says, “and I don’t say that lightly. I’m embarrassed to say this, but when I heard you were a princess, my first thought was one of despair that you would quit and I would be left all alone here. I need you, but we would have survived without you for a few weeks. You should be on a honeymoon.”

  “It was so last minute,” I say. “James couldn’t have left work either.”

  Mary frowns. “Isn’t he the boss? He doesn’t even have a board. Who exactly does he report to? He can work anywhere.” She plops down in the tiny seat in front of my desk. “Look. I’m not trying to butt in, but this thing between you is new, and it will never get off the ground properly if you don’t make time for each other. I’ll repeat selfishly that I do not want to lose you, but you need to work out this living situation. You can’t live in different cities.”

  I burst into tears. I can’t help it. I know it was fake, and we thought he was being paid three point two billion dollars to marry me, but it felt so real to me on so many occasions. When that reason evaporated, right along with his shot at revenge, I felt like I did when Noel died. I never wanted to feel that again, and I did this to myself. Only this time, running away hasn’t helped at all.

  Mary rushes around the desk. “Oh my goodness, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I wave her away. I can’t have a pregnant lady frantically trying to console me. I need to pull myself together. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re clearly not fine. Is he unwilling to move here?” Her face is a mix of sorrow and anger. I love that she wants to defend me. “I’m not sure whether it’s the pregnancy or the thought of losing you that’s making me queasy, but I will say it anyway. As much as I want to keep you, I think you’d like New York. It’s very high energy, and it’s exciting. Plus, people there would adore you, I know it.” She clears her throat. “Now there’s bile rising in my throat, and I might puke, but I think that’s the thought of losing you. But that’s dumb, because phones work, and we would still be best friends.”

  I shake my head. “Neither of us needs to move.”

  “Oh, Pais.” She sighs. “You might think you can swing it, but it’s going to get old fast. You’ll be sad whenever you’re apart. You have to put your husband in front of your friends, however close we are.”

  “No.” I hiccup. “I don’t need to move because we’re getting an annulment.”

  Mary’s eyes widen. “Wait, an annulment? I just assumed that you. . . Wait, you never—” She clears her throat. “Never mind.” She looks at the wall for a second, clearly processing my about-face. She turns back, her voice soft. “I don’t understand. You looked so happy.”

  “You know his story with Paul,” I say. “Right?”

  Mary leans against the desk. “I know his story with Paul, and I’ve heard the basics of his story with Trig.”

  “Wait,” I say. “He has a story with Trig?”

  Mary looks at her feet. “No, I don’t know.”

  “Oh man.”

  “That’s not the point,” Mary says. “You should know that Luke has always thought he was better than all that.”

  Luke loves everyone. That’s like saying a Golden Retriever would lick his hand.

  “James is vindictive,” I say. “He holds grudges.”

  “Okay,” Mary says. “Has he ever done anything to you?”

  “Done anything?” I shake my head. “Of course not.”

  “Then I’m confused. Are you worried that he will?”

  “I mess up a lot,” I admit. “I’m a little prone to overreaction.” Like running away to America and never going home. Which is when it hits me that James didn’t kick me out. He didn’t get in my way when I flew home, but he never encouraged it. I never bothered to ask him what he thought about his grandfather’s declaration. I have no idea how he really feels. He might not have wanted me to leave, but I didn’t give him a chance to stop me.

  “But surely he knows that,” Mary says. “You’ve told him what you told me? About Noel? About your relocation?”

  “He knows,” I say.

  “And you think that you might do something that makes him mad? Or you already have?”

  “No. I haven’t done anything, or I don’t think I have anyway. We aren’t exactly talking a lot. But I’m afraid that if I upset him, if I do something w
rong, or make a mistake, I’ll end up on his list.”

  Mary’s shoulders slump. “He is sort of a predator, isn’t he?”

  The tears are back, and I can’t seem to stop them. “Hawks attack rabbits. It’s what they do.”

  Mary pats my shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but yes, they eat mice and rabbits and lots of things. Frogs, probably.”

  “You can’t make a hawk marry a rabbit.” I turn and sob against Mary’s belly.

  Her voice is soft, like she’d use on Chase. “You can’t, but Paisley.”

  “What?” I turn upward and meet her eye.

  “He’s not a hawk. He’s a human, same as you and me.”

  I know that, of course I do. I’m not an idiot. “But you know what I mean.”

  She pets my hair. It should annoy me, but it doesn’t. I’ve never known someone more motherly than Mary, including my own mom. “I actually don’t know what you mean. I think that in business, and perhaps in life, James has learned a certain way of coping. He protects himself, as much as anything else.”

  “Right,” I say. “I agree.”

  “But loving someone is about dropping those walls.”

  “James isn’t someone who will drop walls,” I say. “He’s someone who goes in, guns blazing.”

  “He’s never been in love before,” Mary says. “Luke said he hardly even dated.”

  “He loved his grandmother,” I say.

  “And do you think he’d ever have turned on her? Even if she let him down?”

  “Why are you so smart?” I ask.

  “I learned this the hard way. My parents were a disaster, and I put up huge walls. For a long time, the only one inside of there with me was Trudy. I built a fortress around the two of us, but I never would have risked allowing anyone else inside. I wanted to blow up her first husband, even before he did anything wrong. When Troy was born, that baby slipped right under and I would have done anything for him. But it took me a long time to figure out how to let someone else in.” Mary’s eyes well with tears. “I almost missed out on Luke and Amy and Chase. I almost walked away, because I was so afraid, so terrified of the idea that once I let someone else inside, they could decimate me. But oh, Paisley. If he lets you in, there’s no one you’d rather have in your foxhole than James. I imagine he lobs a pretty good grenade at anyone who would ever wish you harm.”