by Kade Charest
Simon shook his head, “It is a deep reputation, and there isn’t much time, Taylor.”
“Much time for what? It’s not like he needs to take over tomorrow,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes. “What, are you in a hurry to retire and spruce up your golf game?”
“I’m dying, Taylor.”
Taylor stopped short and jerked in half as if she’d been sucker-punched in the stomach, “What?” she asked breathlessly to Simon, who stood still beside her.
Simon nodded, his expression somber. “I have pancreatic cancer. All treatment options have been exhausted,” he said. Simon looped his arm through one of Taylor’s and gave her a gentle tug, “Come with me, Taylor. I can’t stand still for long—it’s better to go forward, to keep moving.”
Taylor nodded, dazed, and propelled herself forward. There was so much she wanted to say, but she just stayed silent; she was having trouble getting the words out. “When, Simon?” Taylor finally gasped, after composing herself to walk a few steps. “When did this happen?”
“I was diagnosed four years ago and received treatment for two years before I told anyone,” he said.
“Why? Why go through that alone?” Taylor asked. Her grandfather had succumbed to cancer, and she was always glad she had been with him through the illness. As painful as it had been to watch, she knew how much he was going through.
Simon swallowed and avoided Taylor’s eyes. “My children had already lost their mother,” Simon explained hoarsely. “I didn’t want to worry them unless it was necessary. I told Derrick two years ago, Marty just a few months ago—before the last treatment effort.”
Taylor said nothing for a while as she processed all Simon was saying. “So, is that how you and Derrick worked out your, uh, differences? He smartened up after he learned about you being sick?”
“Derrick has always been smart, he’s just been too rebellious,” Simon defended. That was good to hear. Taylor had always heard Derrick talk about how hard Simon was on him. Simon continued, “Derrick responded immediately and said he would be there, do anything. He carries so much guilt for not being there when his mother …” Simon swallowed hard. Shaking his head, he glanced down, “and I am mostly to blame for that, I have never been easy on him.” Regret resonated in his voice.
Taylor couldn’t go there, not to that time, not about Delia. Taylor always looked to Delia like a second mother, and she missed her. Her death had been such a shock, and the thought of it reminded her of Derrick, of him crying, of her comforting him, of …
Nope. New topic.
“So you think him getting married will make him look so very responsible and grown up, ensuring the continued thriving of Fletcher Enterprises?”
“It’s never been about carrying on the family name, Taylor, but it has always been the responsibility. You know that,” Simon said softly. “I want this to continue for legacy, sure, but mostly for the people who depend on us, and for my children, and my children’s children, and so on. I want Fletcher Enterprises to be there so they don’t have to worry, so that they can just live. I wished it would keep them safe forever,” he said sadly, obviously considering the ill fate of himself and his wife, “but I don’t live in that bubble anymore.”
Taylor felt tears in her eyes. It was a curse, the money. Everyone thought you were so lucky, could have the best of everything, and yet you were no more powerful with it than you were without it when your number came up. Taylor often wondered if the money made people torture themselves longer, try every experiment and try every regime money could buy, all in the name of hoping for more time.
“I see you accepted my son’s ring,” Simon said, drawing Taylor back to all the other craziness that was happening around her.
Taylor looked at Simon and saw he looked brighter at the mention of this development. But despite all this horrible turn of events, she wouldn’t be swayed into a ridiculous marriage. She had to stand her ground. “I said I would get engaged, Simon, but it still isn’t right,” Taylor said to him. “It isn’t fair to me or to Derrick. He should get to pick who he marries. He shouldn’t get forced into it,” Taylor said. “It should be about love.”
Simon smiled slightly and scanned the expanse of his grounds in front of him. It gave Taylor a sinking feeling, as if he was trying to commit everything to memory. When he looked at Taylor, he said, “He found you, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Taylor said, disgruntled, regarding Simon coolly.
Simon took a deep breath, a kind of you-have-no-idea breath, and shook his head. “Maybe you do, but I suspect not.” The cryptic response irritated Taylor. “I approached Derrick about marriage two years ago, said he should find someone and get married. I explained how it would improve his business presence, make him seem to the public like he had sewn his wild oats, like he was ready for responsibility. And he told me everything you’ve just said: I’m not in love, I won’t be forced, so I let it go.”
Taylor shot him a see-I-told-you-so look, but then Simon continued.
“But the next day he came to me, and he said he would only do it if it was you.”
Taylor stopped short, assessed Simon, then shook her head. “That’s only because I wasn’t here, I was out of touch. I was the perfect choice because he couldn’t find me,” Taylor rationalized, but she wasn’t sure whom she was convincing.
“But he found you, Taylor.”
“Because Preston Corp. needed me, and he thinks he needs …”
Simon shook his head. “He found you over a year ago, Taylor.”
Blood drained from Taylor’s head, and she felt dizzy. “What?” she croaked. Suddenly Simon was guiding her to a stone bench among the hedges.
Once they were seated, Simon went on, “It took him a year, but he found you. He spent endless time, effort, and money, but he found you. It consumed him. It was the only thing he could think about.”
“How?” Taylor had been so careful. She had literally dropped herself off the grid. How could he have found her?
“He never did say,” Simon replied thoughtfully. “But when he did, he went to see you, went to that coffee shop, saw you working.”
No way, Taylor thought. If Derrick had been in the coffee shop, she would have known. She would have recognized him. Wouldn’t she? She imagined him ordering from her—she would have known. Who wouldn’t have recognized Derrick Fletcher? “No, no he couldn’t have … I mean why …”
Simon shrugged at Taylor’s stuttering and smirked.
“Why didn’t he talk to me?”
“He said you were happy, said you looked so happy,” Simon said softly and then grinned. “He told me all about your disguise and how great it was.” Then the grin slowly slid from Simon’s face, “But even after that he said he wouldn’t do it, he wouldn’t reveal you. You’d had so much pain and unhappiness that he couldn’t take you from the happiness you had found.”
Taylor felt nausea and confusion and apprehension creep all over her. He had found her. She couldn’t believe it. And then just left her. He wanted her to be happy. Every time Taylor felt like she was getting close to something familiar and finding some peace with this situation a new nugget of information popped up and had her feeling sick and weighed down. This nugget felt like Jupiter was sitting on her chest.
“I don’t tell you this to make you feel bad, Taylor. I know you are overwhelmed with things,” Simon said, holding her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, “but this was all before we knew anything about the trouble at Preston Corp. Todd came to us with the debt sums nine weeks ago and asked for financial assistance. I refused. It killed me to do it, but I could not and would not undertake with the corporation under the rule of Cedric. He was out of control,” Simon bit out Cedric’s name. He sounded angry when he spoke about him, but his eyes were sad at the mention of her uncle.
“I thought it was done, but then Todd came back with a new proposal a week later. If they could find you, if they were to get you to come back, to take over, would I help,” Sim
on said, “and I said yes.”
“Why, Simon?” Taylor asked desperately. She was on a crazy crash course in her head, and it was hard to keep all this information straight. Derrick had found her and taken her from the Roasted Bean kicking and screaming, and now Simon wanted her to take over Preston Corp? It was a lot, and it had to be why Taylor was whining as she went on, “Why me? I don’t know anything about this corporation or business, or …”
“I did it for my son, Taylor,” Simon interrupted.
Taylor looked at Simon, perplexed. “I don’t understand. Why?”
“He missed you.” Simon said, his expression almost painful. “And I figured that I could wheel and deal, like I do, and get you back for him. I want to do whatever I have do to see he is happy.”
Great, so now I’m cattle, Taylor thought. “You wheeled and dealed for me?” Taylor repeated softly, anger raging through her. “You know, this isn’t the time of knights and fair maidens, Simon, I can’t be bought and sold and traded—” Taylor was cut off by Simon’s roar of laughter. “What is so damn funny?” she demanded.
“That is what Derrick said. That is exactly what he said,” Simon replied, wiping tears from his eyes he was laughing so hard. “He was so angry when I told him we needed to bring you back, he absolutely refused to say where you were. He didn’t even care why we wanted you to come back. I believe his exact words were ‘Abso-fucking-lutely not’.”
“Oh yeah? Well then why am I here? Huh? What changed?” Taylor was challenging Simon’s explanation.
“Cedric died, and the marriage clause was discovered. Even then, though, Derrick wanted to let you be, let you find out like everyone else.”
“But …”
“But he realized, after a gentle reminder, that you would be much happier to come back to try and save a devastated company when you could help it before such a terrible feat occurred. I reminded him about his own feelings of responsibility and how you would feel.”
Taylor leaned forward, resting her head in her hands, rubbing her face. “God, Simon.”
“I am so sorry this is all being thrown at you, but he wants you Taylor and he wants to help. And I want him to be happy. Please let me die a happy man, and make my son happy.”
Taylor groaned into her hands. How much more could she freaking handle? Now she had to save a failing empire and fulfill a dying man’s last request. It was unfair. “I am not going to make him happy, Simon.”
Suddenly Marty burst through the back door, running full tilt with her phone raised in her hands. “You can’t get me,” she taunted a figure behind her, and seconds later Derrick exploded out of the house.
He was laughing, chasing his sister, and she bobbed and weaved among the hedges, dodging his half-heart attempt to catch her, before he finally grabbed the phone and tossed his sister into the pool.
Derrick spun back, grinning widely, and shook the phone at Taylor. “Don’t worry, baby, I saved you from further social media fall out.” Derrick bowed to Taylor but was the thrown backward as his sister hit his knees, making him spiral awkwardly into the pool with her.
“You already have,” Simon whispered to Taylor.
“What?” Taylor asked, as she smiled at the scene.
“Made him happy,” Simon said. “You already have, Taylor.” Simon tossed his head toward the pool. “I haven’t see him so carefree in years.”
“He is just doing what he thinks will make everyone happy. He’s a peacekeeper.” And probably out of guilt for how their friendship had ended, Taylor mused.
Simon shook his head. “Stop trying to find excuses. He wants you back here not just to fix Preston Corp., but because he loves you. This is right, and it is a win–win for you both.” Suddenly Simon had both her hands in his. Taylor looked into his face, noticing for the first time how gaunt it was, how thin his frame had become, how pale his skin around his eyes was.
Taylor started to think that perhaps she was cursed. People seemed to meet their demise around her at an alarming rate.
But even though she loved Simon and wanted to grant him what could very possibly be his dying wish, she just couldn’t lie about something like that.
“Simon I—”
“Don’t feel like you need to answer me, Taylor, I know you. I have known the kind of person you are for a long time, so I know you will do what is right for you.”
“Daddy, doesn’t her outfit look great?” Marty interrupted from the side of the pool. She swam over, very nonchalantly, in her clothes, looking completely comfortable. Taylor knew she had been through this before.
“She does, my dear. You are a fabulous fashion guru,” Simon complimented, and Marty beamed from the praise.
“That reminds me,” Taylor interrupted, eager for the distraction. “I need clothes. I don’t have any on the West Coast, and I need business stuff for work—”
Taylor stopped short when she noticed that Marty was jumping out of the pool like it had suddenly caught fire. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to go shopping!” she squealed, running to Taylor and planting a kiss squarely on her mouth. “I am so excited!”
And then she was gone.
“Uh, wow,” Taylor said.
“She never has outgrown that impulsiveness,” Simon remarked, looked at the invisible dust path that Marty had left behind in her exit.
“Where the hell did she go?” Derrick asked, getting out of the pool.
“Shopping,” Taylor answered, turning to him and getting sucked into the vortex of his incredibly hot body, which made her forget all basic functions, like breathing. Derrick’s shirt clung to him and showed off his extremely well-defined muscles.
Simon cleared his throat. “I need to be heading inside,” he said and gingerly got himself out of the chair.
Derrick made a motion to head over to him.
“No, Son, I’m okay. And besides, being wet wasn’t in my plans today,” he said, smirking. He leaned down, kissed Taylor’s head, and made his way inside.
“So, what were you and my father talking about?” Derrick asked as he made his way over to her, toweling off with a fluffy white towel that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. The staff at this mansion were like stealthy ninjas, meeting the needs of their employers—both seen and unseen.
Taylor shrugged. “He was just telling me some stuff I missed,” she answered. But then she realized she was not being honest, and that was supposed to be their new thing. “Mostly he told me about his cancer,” she told him, and Derrick looked down and started drying his hair. “I’m sorry he is so sick, Derrick.”
He shrugged as if it didn’t bother him, like it was no big deal. But Taylor knew that he was feeling more than that shrug implied. Taylor tried to ignore the fact that she could read Derrick and all his nonverbal cues because she was trying not to relate to him, trying to maintain some distance between them. However, everything Simon had told her was echoing through her mind.
Derrick stood in front of Taylor, by the edge of the pool he had just climbed out of.
“What do you want to do with the rest of the day?” he asked.
Taylor turned to face him and had the most fabulous idea.
She mustered up the most earth-shattering grin she could for Derrick and said “This!” as she used the element of surprise to push Derrick back into the pool.
His face was priceless, and Taylor laughed so hard she had to sit and wipe the tears away. She felt an instant release. She felt energized as she sat in the sun, able to find humor out of the craptastic situation she was currently in.
Until Derrick took her by surprise and pulled her by the ankles into the pool with him. It was definitely not as funny as it had been with Derrick.
“Derrick!” she shouted when she finally got to the surface, but he couldn’t hear her; he was too busy laughing. Taylor pushed her wet and heavy hair back from her face and glared at him, but he only laughed louder. Derrick closed his eyes as he laughed, and when he opened them he laughed even hard
er, reaching out to hold the side of the pool to keep him afloat.
“What?” Taylor demanded. “What’s so funny?”
“You … your … your …” Derrick was laughing so hard he couldn’t get a word out. He finally turned his back to Taylor and settled his laughter. “Your hair. It’s all standing up and, God, it looks like a peacock’s feathers.”
Mortified, Taylor reached up and felt her hair, which was in fact standing up about six inches off her head. She quickly dipped her head back and shook it out. When she resurfaced, Derrick was looking at her. He was smiling but no longer laughing.
“That’s better,” Derrick said, “but there is still some messed up on the side.”
Taylor reached up and tried to fix whatever it was, but she couldn’t find anything out of place. Derrick pushed away from the wall of the pool and came over to her with long strokes.
“Here,” he said when he reached her, unlooping a lock of hair that had curled up.
“Thank you,” she said and then rubbed her face in irritation. “You got water up my nose,” she complained as she glared at him.
“You started it,” he reminded her, smiling.
Taylor laughed. It felt good—the goofing around, the pranks. She felt her guard dropping by the minute. It had been years since Taylor had been able to let her guard down, and just a little chip in it sent the rest tumbling like dominos.
And Derrick being so close while her armor cracked was bad, Taylor decided, really bad. Especially seeing how his shirt clung to him when it was saturated with water. It looked like the shirt would need to be peeled from his body.
Fighting her dirty thoughts back into their locked pen, Taylor swallowed hard. “We should probably get out,” she said and made her way to the stairs.
Trudging through the water at a snail’s pace, Taylor felt like her body was trying to hold her back to where Derrick was. Calm down, hormones, Taylor thought bitterly as she reached the stairs. Her face flamed as her thoughts went back to his shirt clinging to his chest and then his lips, and how they’d felt on her in his apartment yesterday.
