by Erin Wright
Step Three: He hit send on the text and then immediately dialed the same number.
“Hey, Buttons,” he said cheerfully, using his nickname for Alice Branston, one of his closest friends in the music business and one of the few who he trusted. “It’s Zane.”
“Zane! God, how are you?” Her voice, raspy from decades of smoking, made him smile. It was damn good to hear her voice. “Shit, I’m so glad to hear from you. Hold on.” There was a rustling noise and then she was shouting at someone to be more careful before coming back on the line. “Imbeciles, the lot of ‘em,” she grumbled. “Anyway, so, you’re alive. That’s good to know. Last I heard, you were holed up in Idaho of all places, and no one’s heard from you all summer. I was beginning to have visions of the Aryan Nation kidnapping you and holding you ransom or something. Wait. Isn’t it Idaho where the Aryan Nation is headquartered? Or is that Iowa?”
“I think that’s northern Idaho, and you’ll be glad to know that a) I’m nowhere near there; and b) I always cross the street when I see a skinhead coming, just as a precaution,” he said dryly. “Now,” he continued on before Buttons could start in again on whatever thought was flitting through her mind at that very moment, “I have a favor to ask of you. I have a girl I want to impress.”
“A girl—” The rustling of movement in the background stopped; he was sure even her breathing had stopped. “A girl?!” she finally exclaimed. “You’ve fallen in love? You’ve fallen in love. Oh my God, Zane Risley has fallen in love. I can’t—”
“Buttons!” he bellowed.
She shut up.
“I have a girl I want to impress,” he repeated, unable to say the words I’ve fallen in love with. The feeling was too new. Too raw. He hadn’t told Louisa yet. He couldn’t tell someone else before he told her. Not even Buttons. “I texted you all of her clothing sizes right before I called you.”
“Yeah, I saw that come through on my iWatch as we were talking. I wondered why you were texting me a bunch of women’s clothing sizes. I thought maybe you had another announcement you wanted to make,” she said slyly, laughter in her voice.
“No, I’m not becoming a cross-dresser,” he said dryly. “After we hang up, I’m gonna text you some pics that I’ve managed to snag without her noticing. I want you to fly to Idaho – I’ll keep you safe from any skinheads lurking around the airport, I promise – with dresses that would work for her. Really show off her figure. Oh, and shoes. Lots of shoes. Give her lots of choices so she can choose what she likes. But no tennis shoes or scrubs. Or jeans.”
“I was pretty sure you didn’t want me to fly across the country to bring your girlfriend some scrubs,” Buttons said, and he could tell she was laughing at him. “Hold on, is she your girlfriend? And why don’t you fly her here? It’d be a hell of a lot cheaper than me flying everything I need for a dress-fitting plus staff to—”
“No. I want it done here. I want her to be in her element and dressed up at the same time.” He ignored the girlfriend question. He was not about to admit to Buttons that he was willing to pay an arm and a leg on a woman he hadn’t gone on a single date with. “How soon can you do it?”
“Dammit, Zane. Fine. Send me the pics while we’re on the phone. I want to know what I’m working with first.”
“Hold on.” He pulled his phone away from his ear and scrolled through his pics app, choosing the pictures he’d managed to take of her during the party at the Miller house. They weren’t glamor shots by any stretch of the imagination but he knew how Buttons worked. She needed more than a woman’s cup size and jean size to pick out just the right dress. She needed it all. “There, I sent some over. Sorry…I was trying not to let her see that I was taking her picture so they’re not the best—”
“Oh, nice Kardashian ass,” Buttons said, ignoring his apology. “Wow. That hair. Okay. Good. Let me see what I have here. I can’t do custom, of course – no matter how much I love you, even I can’t take my entire shop across the country – but I have some dresses that’ll set your hair on fire. I’ve got some fittings here this afternoon that I can’t move but I can—” she pulled her phone away from her ear and yelled some obscenities at someone and then her voice was back as if nothing had happened, “rearrange everything else, and leave first thing in the morning. Just send the bill to Nina?”
The question made it clear: She was willing to rearrange her life to make this happen, but it would come at a dear price.
“Perfect,” he said. Money was one thing he had enough of. She was probably going to charge him three times her usual fee, and he was gladly going to pay it. “I’m going to call Nina and have her call your assistant. They can work out the details. See you tomorrow around noon?”
“Lovely. Bye. Love you,” and then she was gone, off to yell at someone else, no doubt.
It was one of her most lovable traits – there was never any doubt about where a person stood with Buttons. Loved you, hated you, or somewhere in between, she’d say it bluntly. It was what made her trustworthy.
Step Four: He dialed his assistant, Nina. The older woman sounded sleepy but quickly snapped to attention when he told her what he needed. When he’d left Tennessee at the beginning of the summer, he’d left her behind just like he had his bodyguard. He didn’t need a whole flotilla of staff around to get his son to therapy camp and back every day, and he hadn’t planned on doing anything else that summer…except get his head screwed on straight, and he didn’t need a flotilla of staff for that either.
He worked Nina hard enough most of the year. One summer off every decade wasn’t going to land him on the list of the World’s Best Bosses, and he knew that.
One of the reasons he’d kept her on all these years wasn’t just her willingness to take one vacation a decade, though; it was her organizational skills, her sharp mind, and her ability to do more in one afternoon than most people could accomplish in a week.
He got to the end of his explanation and exactly what he needed to be done, and there was a long pause as she finished writing it all down. “Got it,” she finally said. “And Mr. Risley?”
After all these years, she still refused to call him Zane.
“Yeah?”
“Good luck.” And with that, she hung up.
Lady luck. He hated to rely on it but this was one time where he had no choice. He could work as hard as he wanted to, but he couldn’t force Louisa to fall in love with him.
No, that was one thing he could not do.
CHAPTER 28
LOUISA
L OUISA WATCHED as Skyler loaded himself into the Audi, talking a mile a minute about everything that Juan had said and done and thought that day, and Louisa just listened, the door sliding closed and cutting off his words, but he simply stopped mid-sentence, waited until she opened up the driver’s side door, and started right back up again.
He was nothing if not persistent.
Once he’d told her every word and action and thought of Juan’s for the day, he rattled to a stop.
She looked at him in the rearview mirror, but he was staring out the window, his brow creased as he thought.
“A penny for your thoughts, cariño,” she said quietly.
He shot her a confused look and she knew he wanted to ask her why a penny because after all, a penny was practically worthless, but then, his mind zipped right back to the important question at hand, refusing to get sidetracked.
“Do I have to move back to Nashville?”
Louisa paused, trying to think of how to answer this. The obvious response was yes, of course. Skyler was more independent now than he was when the summer had started, but he was twelve years old, for hell’s sakes. He certainly wasn’t old enough to live on his own, no matter how adept he’d become at transferring in and out of his wheelchair.
“I don’t want to leave Juan. He’s the bestest friend I’ve ever had. He doesn’t care that I’m in a wheelchair.”
Louisa wanted to close her eyes and cry.
Dios mío, my heart
hurts for Skyler. How can I help him?
“He is a good friend,” she agreed, fighting to keep the warble out of her voice. She cleared her throat. “But don’t you think your father will be sad without you?”
“Maybe.” He still wasn’t meeting her gaze in the rearview mirror. “He likes me more now than he did before. You made him like me.”
“I helped him realize what a great person you are,” she corrected him gently. “Your father has always loved you. I think he just needed a little bit of help in getting to know you. But now that he does, I think he’d be really sad if you weren’t there with him all the time.”
Skyler nodded slowly at that, still thinking. “Maybe you shouldn’t have helped him to like me. He didn’t used to care if I was there or not. I could’ve stayed behind. But now, he won’t let me.”
Louisa opened her mouth to argue that assertion but then remembered that Zane had sent Skyler to two therapy camps previous to this one all by himself, and the one – the music camp – had been in Sedona, Arizona, for heaven’s sakes. Zane didn’t used to have any qualms about sending his kid across the country with nothing more than an aide to accompany him.
Would he have let Skyler live in Idaho with only staff to take care of him?
Maybe.
Not exactly a ringing endorsement of Past Zane, although Louisa was happy to know that Current Zane would never allow it. No matter what Skyler thought, having a loving, caring dad in his life was much more important than having a friend, even if that friend was as great as Juan.
She decided to take a different tact. “Wouldn’t you miss your dad if you stayed behind?” She flipped on her blinker and turned onto the Road From Hell, as she personally thought of the rutted two-track potholed road that led back to the house. For the millionth time, she wondered why Zane didn’t get it fixed.
Skyler’s face became a bouncy, blurry vision in the rearview mirror as the SUV bounced along, and so Louisa gave up trying to read Sky’s face in it, and instead focused on avoiding as many potholes as possible.
“Yeah,” Skyler finally said grudgingly. “I want Dad and Juan.”
Louisa couldn’t argue against that one. Even as an adult, it was hard not to desperately cling to the cake-and-eat-it-too mentality. Knowing it wasn’t realistic was a far cry from then turning off all feeling and simply not wanting it. They were people, not robots.
She knew she certainly was. She wanted Zane – God, how she wanted Zane – but dating her boss? Again? Once was bad enough. Once could be written off as temporary stupidity.
But twice?
She couldn’t be that stupid twice.
They pulled into the garage, the door closing silently behind them, and Louisa waited for Skyler to say something else. He seemed like he had more to get off his chest. But instead, he transferred himself out of the vehicle and zipped inside, his face a study of thought and worry and conflict.
He’s too young to be this serious. He is just a child but yet, he is not. He is so much more.
She pushed herself out of the SUV and walked sedately behind him, trying to keep the thought and worry and conflict off her own face. Zane would want to know what was wrong, and she couldn’t break Skyler’s confidences by telling him. He hadn’t made her promise not to say anything, but she knew it was what he expected. If he wanted to talk to his dad about Juan, then he could. Zane shouldn’t hear it from her.
Zane must’ve heard them come in because he came hurrying down the stairs, beaming from ear to ear. “I just got off the phone with Wyatt Miller, Skyler, and guess who wants you to come over and spend the weekend with them?”
“Really?!” Skyler shot up so fast in his wheelchair, he rocked it back slightly onto its back wheels. “Oh, cool!”
He raced for the elevator to go pack his bags, and Louisa called after him, “Don’t forget to pack your toothbrush and toothpaste!” Man, she was such a mother some days. She looked back at Zane who had a strangely self-satisfied look on his face. “What’s going on?” she asked suspiciously. “Is your headache better?”
“My headac—? Oh yeah,” he said quickly. “Feeling much better. Advil is a miracle drug.”
She lifted her eyebrows and stared at him skeptically. “What’s going on?” she asked again. Damn, he was just like Skyler. She could tell where he got it from. Zane was about to play a trick on her. He was just short of holding out a doctored cup of coffee and telling her innocently that he’d made her coffee for her that morning.
Well, maybe he hadn’t actually poured salt into her coffee, but something was going on. She’d bet her career on it.
“I’m just happy that my son gets to spend more time with his best friend,” Zane said smoothly.
She stared at him, not buying that for a second.
“What, you don’t think I want my son to be happy?” he finally said, breaking under the weight of that stare.
“Oh, I know you do. You’d do anything for your son’s happiness. But that isn’t why you look like it’s Christmas morning, your birthday, and Easter all wrapped up into one.”
The elevator dinged open and Skyler came zooming out, a backpack sitting in his lap. “Let me see what you packed,” Louisa said, holding up a hand and stopping him in his tracks. She’d sent enough younger brothers off to overnighters to know that their idea of “packing a bag” could include simply grabbing a t-shirt and a mismatched pair of socks. Alex had tried one time to pack for a week-long trip by only packing seven pairs of underwear. He hadn’t thought he would need to change anything else, not even his socks.
Yeah, Louisa knew better than to trust a 12-year-old boy’s packing abilities.
She riffled through his bag and found that he’d packed his Gameboy, two packs of Pokémon cards, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. She looked at him, caught between laughter and despair. “Skyler,” she said, trying not to show him how hilarious she thought he was. He might be upset that she was laughing at him, or try this trick again in the future because he liked making her laugh. You never knew with 12-year-olds. “Skyler, mi gordito, you need clothes to wear tomorrow. And the day after that. And PJs to wear to bed. And new underwear. And new socks. What were you planning on wearing tomorrow morning?”
“My clothes,” he said, pulling at the t-shirt he was wearing and looking at her like she’d just lost her mind. She could almost see the word #duh flash above his head.
“If the Millers show up, tell them we’ll be right down,” Louisa said with a grimacing smile at Zane and then turned Skyler’s chair around and pushed him back towards the elevator. “First things first: Always pack clean clothes to wear when you go on a sleepover to someone’s house. You don’t wake up in the morning and pull on the clothes that you wore the day before, right?”
“No. Well, not if the housekeeper has done the laundry,” he added, really thinking about it. “One time, last year, our housekeeper got sick and I didn’t have clean clothes for a week. Dad just took me shopping and we bought all new clothes for me to wear until the housekeeper could come back.”
“That’s one way of solving the problem,” Louisa muttered under her breath, heavily leaning towards breaking out into laughter. Every time she forgot how different their backgrounds were, things like this came up and she remembered all over again what different planets they lived on. “Well, either way, the important thing is, you put on clean clothes every morning. And that still holds true if you go on a sleepover.”
The discussion lasted all of the way through the repacking of his bag – somehow, it seemed perfectly logical to Skyler to skip putting on clean clothes as long as he was at his best friend’s house – and back down the elevator. As soon as Skyler saw Juan, though, he went racing across the formal living room, his much fuller bag on his lap. They fell to chatting and headed outside, the two of them not even acknowledging anyone else in the room.
“Well, at least they’re getting along now,” Zane said with a laugh. “I wonder if they even remember bickering like an old marr
ied couple when they first met.”
“They’ve certainly come a long ways since then,” Abby said with a small chuckle, and then turned to Louisa. “So good to see you again,” she said warmly. “Thanks for suggesting this. The boys are just going to love it. I know y’all have to head back to Tennessee soon for the start of school, so every last bit of time they can spend together, I’m happy to make happen.”
“Yes, me too,” Louisa said automatically, giving Wyatt’s wife a bright smile. “I love it when I come up with these great ideas.” She felt Zane wince slightly next to her in the face of her sarcasm but Wyatt and Abby didn’t seem to catch it.
“We’re off,” Wyatt said, tugging on Abby’s hand and pulling her towards the door. “I can hear Maggie Mae getting all riled up – the boys are probably wrestling with her or something. We better get her out of here before she shits on the lawn and Zane’s groundskeeper throws a pair of shears at my head.”
Sure enough, Juan was on one end of the stick and a nondescript cow dog was on the other, playing tug-of-war with a tree branch. Skyler was sitting to the side, cheering them on. Juan lost his grip on the branch and went tumbling backwards into the grass as the dog went running around the yard, holding the branch up in her mouth triumphantly, obviously very pleased with herself.
“Good job, Maggie Mae,” Wyatt said affectionately as the dog came running up to his side, her tail wagging a million miles an hour. “C’mon, Juan and Skyler, let’s get going. I heard we just might have watermelon for a watermelon-seed-spitting contest back at the house.”
They piled into Abby’s mini-van, Skyler adeptly folding up his wheelchair and storing it off to the side. He waved energetically at Louisa and Zane as they pulled away and then was focused on Juan again, all thought of the adults in his life completely gone. He was with Juan, and that was what mattered.
“So,” Louisa said after they walked back into the house together, turning and cocking an eyebrow at Zane. “Good to hear how this was my idea. I thought that part was particularly fascinating, actually. Any thoughts you want to share with the class?”
