He steps into the hot water and holds a hand out to me, tugging me in and pushing me up against the cool tiles. He hikes me up, wrapping my legs around him. His hands scour my body while he kisses me, like he wants to feel every inch of me. And I don’t mind one bit. I clench my legs around him, feeling what the collision of our bodies has done to him. He drops his head to mine as I rub myself against his length.
“What have you done to me, girl?” he asks. I smile as I gently bite his bottom lip, letting it slide between my teeth.
“Nothing compared to what I want to do,” I say. With that, he parts us slightly and goes to reach out of the shower, but I stop him.
“I’m on the pill,” I tell him, and his eyes widen.
“You sure?” he whispers. I bite my lip as I look down at our bodies pressed together, his
dark skin on mine, the most beautiful contrast I’ve ever seen.
“I’m sure,” I tell him, pulling him back to me so I can kiss his perfectly round lips again. He pulls back again, this time so that he can slide into me, and I let out a yelp of pleasure as he buries himself inside of me.
“Fuck, Derrick, yes,” I moan, the hot water pounding against our skin and the sensation of no barrier making me lose my mind. I clench every muscle around him, never wanting to let go. Never wanting there to be space between us again. I want to hold onto him until we become one, knowing that no one has ever—or will ever—know me the way he does. Including the people who have known me my entire life.
When we finish, we wash up and get out. He gives me a t-shirt of his to wear, and he pulls down the covers on his bed and holds a hand out.
“Stay?” he asks, and his big brown eyes are pleading. I walk to him and kiss him gently, then flop down on the bed and curl up into a ball on his pillow. He looks down at me, a conflicting look on his face. I pop up.
“Oh, sorry. Is this your side?” I ask. He smiles and shakes his head.
“Nah,” he says. “It’s yours now.”
23
He wakes me up with tiny kisses across my bare shoulders, and I decide I never want to wake up any other way. I roll over to him, his head resting on his hand.
“You’re the only other person who has ever slept in this bed,” he tells me. I run a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling vulnerable in my first-thing-in-the-morning state.
“Well, I’m honored,” I tell him, and I’m also a little relieved. I’m not naive enough to not know that a guy that looks like Derrick is definitely not a virgin. Especially a guy who’s a few years my senior. But there’s something special about knowing he’s never made love to anyone else in this bed. In this whole house.
There’s something special in knowing he’s never trusted someone enough to bring them here.
“I have to work at the shop today,” he says, “but I want to see you later.”
Oh yeah, real life. Forgot about that.
I like how direct he is.
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “We should talk about the shop.” I slip out of bed and look around for my dress.
“What about it?” he asks, slipping off the other side and pulling his boxers on.
“Well, I know you and May had some plans for it,” I say. “I’m meeting with Jeffrey and May’s accountant next week to figure out where she left off.”
He turns to me slowly.
“So, you mean…”
I smile.
“Yeah. You and Ryder are going to get that expansion,” I say. He chuckles and paces toward me so we’re just inches apart.
“I don’t give a damn about the expansion,” he says, cupping my face in his hands and locking his fingers behind my head. “I just like that you have plans to stay here.”
I swallow as his lips cover mine.
Yeah, I guess I do.
He takes me back to Alma’s to get my car, and I head back to the house to take another shower––this time without the demigod of a man––and go through the ledger again to see what questions I might have for the planner. Haven was staying at Alma’s again last night before she moved her things back here sometime this week. As I sit at the kitchen island and flip through the giant book, I notice a pile of mail next to me that Haven must have brought in when she was last here.
I swallow, looking at the top few items all addressed to May. I flip through them—magazines and catalogs, a few letters from banks and doctors’ offices who must not have gotten the message that she’d passed. I sigh as I push them to the side. It’s strange being here in her wake, like I’m chasing some sort of ghost. Just as I’m turning back to the ledger, I notice one more envelope. But it doesn’t have May’s name on it; it has mine.
I recognize the perfect script handwriting immediately.
It’s my mother’s.
I swallow as I slip my finger in and tear it open. My hand trembles as I unfold the page,
the same stationery she’s had for years, her initials inscribed at the top in gold.
Dear Kaylee,
I know this is an unconventional means of communicating nowadays, but I didn’t think that, after our last meeting, you’d be too inclined to take my calls. I know our last meeting wasn’t what either of us wanted. I think we’re both hurting, Kaylee, and I think time can heal that hurt if we let it.
I’m writing to tell you that we need you, Kaylee. The business is in bad shape. We’ve laid off almost two-hundred more employees over the last month, and there are more coming. Without the women-owned status, we’re missing out on a lot of benefits. We can get more federal help. We can save the company and all those jobs.
I know you’re angry, Kay. I know you’re mad at me, and you have questions. Questions I may never be able to answer for you. But this is bigger than us. This is bigger than me and your dad. This affects working people who need this company to survive in order to feed their families. This affects people like Margaret and Tom. And Franklin.
I’m attaching the company’s financials so you can see this is no exaggeration. We are losing money by the second, and there’s really no other way out of this.
We need you, Kaylee. And so do they. We choose family, always.
Come home.
Love Always,
Mom
I can feel my heart beating louder, harder, until it reverberates through my throat and stomach. I reread her words, and all I can see is the plain manipulation that I was never aware I was a victim of until I got to Meade Lake. The way she and my father use guilt, the way they remind me of what they’ve given me, of what they’ve given others. And how they so easily put all that weight back on me.
I swallow back tears—or at least, I try to.
But I can’t. Because twenty-three years of lies come spilling out all over the stupid stationery. And all I can see is Franklin. All I can hear are his words in the elevator.
“Is this what you want, Kaylee?”
He knew as much as I did that it wasn’t. He wanted the best for me. Always did.
We choose family, always.
I wipe the last of my tears and reach for my phone on the counter.
“Hello?” Jeffrey answers. After our initial meeting, he had given me his personal number. “Family of May’s is family of mine.”
“Jeffrey, hi, it’s Kaylee,” I say.
“Hey, hon,” he answers, but even his sing-song voice isn’t enough to lift my mood. “What can I do for you?”
“Is it possible to schedule a meeting with the financial planner today?” I ask.
“To-today?” he asks.
“I know it’s short notice,” I say. “It’s, um, kind of urgent.”
“Uh, okay, sure. Let me make some calls. Why don’t you come into my office around two?”
“I’ll be there,” I say.
24
I trudge up the steps of May’s house after my meeting with Jeffrey and May’s financial planner—who just so happened to be Jules’s dad, Tony.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Jeffrey had a
sked me. I nodded and reluctantly signed the paperwork before Tony whisked it off the desk.
I drop my keys on the front table and kick my shoes off in the foyer. I pad across the hardwood but jump when I see Haven standing in the kitchen, perfectly still.
“Hey,” I say, my voice heavy, like I’m carrying the weight of an entire multi-million-dollar company on my back. I walk to the fridge and pull out a bottle of water.
She doesn’t respond, so I turn to her, and then I freeze when I see that she’s holding the letter from my mother––our mother––in her hand. The one I so stupidly left sitting on the counter when I left for Jeffrey’s.
“Oh, that…”
“Are you going back?” she cuts me off. I swallow and set my water bottle down on the counter.
“I...I haven’t quite worked out––” I start to say, but she holds a hand up.
“Yes or no,” she says. “It’s a simple question.” I stare at her for a moment, her eyes narrowed in on mine.
“Yes,” I mutter quietly. “But––”
“Going back where?”
Derrick’s voice is quiet, but it booms through the open house. I close my eyes.
This can’t be happening.
Haven doesn’t take her eyes off of me.
“To Georgia. Mommy Dearest sent a letter,” she says, waving it in the air. “Looks like they need my sister here to run back and run their company.” I feel the air grow cold and stiff, like I’m being blocked out of something. Derrick stares at me from the doorway, like he’s not even sure if he should come farther into the house.
“Kaylee,” he whispers, the disappointment palpable in his eyes, in the heavy way his whole body seems to be pulled toward the floor. Like he’s already given up.
“They are going to have to lay off hundreds of people if I don’t do something,” I say quietly. Derrick lifts a hand up and swipes his face.
“Aw, Kaylee,” he whispers. “They sunk their teeth into you.” He drops his head and
shakes it before he turns to walk back out the door. Before I can say anything else, Haven takes a few steps toward the front door but stops when we are shoulder to shoulder.
“I’ll be okay when you go,” she says. “I’ve been left before. But him? I don’t know if I can say the same. And you and I both know he deserves so much better.”
She follows him out the front door, and I’m left with nothing but my mother’s letter, a destroyer of worlds.
I spend the rest of the day calling Derrick, stopping by his house and the store, but to no avail. He’s avoiding me, and he knows all the best hiding spots in this place, not me.
I spend the other half of the day calling Haven, but I can’t seem to get through to her, either. I toy with the idea of stopping by Alma’s but decide that’s probably not in anyone’s best interest right now. They need their space.
I go back to May’s and pack up a bag. As I pull a few shirts from the top drawer, I see the turquoise bracelet I bought to match Haven’s. I clasp it around my wrist and hold it close to my chest. Then, I go downstairs, lock the front door, and get in my BMW.
Ten-plus hours later, I’m pulling up in front of Jennings Technology. The parking lot is largely empty now, and as much as I’ve dreaded coming here, I’m dying to get out and stretch my legs. I could have dressed in office attire, but I decided not to. Not for this. I’m making the rules today.
I grab my badge out of my bag and scan into the building. As I take the elevator up to the top floor of the building and walk through the cubicles, most of the desks are empty. People have gone home for the evening, many of whose days might be numbered here.
I freeze when I get to an empty office, the golden name plate on the door making me cringe.
KAYLEE JENNINGS, SALES MANAGER.
I shudder and slide it out of its holder.
As I walk farther down the hall, I see one desk light still on, and I smile. I knew I could count on him to be right where I needed him, right when I needed him to be there. His glasses are slid down toward the tip of his nose, and he’s mumbling something to himself as he reads off of his computer screen. The top of his head is peppered with black and white tufts of short cut hair.
“Franklin?” I ask. He jumps a little, spinning around in his chair.
“Kaylee?” he says, standing up to wrap me in a warm hug. “What are you doing here? I’m so happy to see you.”
“I’m happy to see you, too,” I tell him, trying like hell not to get choked up.
“It’s nice to see your face around here,” he says. “Word is, these are some uncertain times for the company. I hope your daddy is okay.”
His words crush me like an anvil.
Because my daddy sure doesn’t give a damn if Franklin is okay or not. My daddy is just worried about his fortune. His status as Georgia’s leading man. His power.
“Do you mind coming with me to his office for a moment?” I ask him. He cocks his head to one side, and I can tell he’s uncertain. “It shouldn’t take long.”
I see him swallow, and I realize he thinks this is it. He thinks this is the end for him. I put my hand on his.
“It’s gonna be okay, Franklin,” I tell him. He nods and follows me down the hallway to my father’s office. I don’t knock; I just push the cracked door open.
He looks disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, his normally perfectly styled hair out of place. Like he knows this is the end for him. When he sees me, his jaw drops.
“Kaylee,” he says, pushing to stand. He walks toward me, arms outstretched, but freezes when he sees Franklin in the doorway behind me.
“Franklin, can you give us a moment?” he asks.
“I asked him to come,” I say. “We need to talk.” He swallows and nods, leading us to the table in the corner of his insanely huge office. On the back wall is a poster-size print of the three of us when I was in middle school. It was taken at our beach house for a local magazine feature on my dad and the company. He carried issues of the magazine around with him for months.
We sit down, and I reach into my bag and pull out the folder of paperwork that Jeffrey and Tony had prepared for me. Then I pull out my laptop.
“I got Mom’s letter,” I tell him. I can tell my father is out of sorts. Not being in the know is completely out of the ordinary for him. And being in control is completely out of the ordinary for me. At least, it used to be. I look right at him, Derrick’s words ringing in my ears.
They sunk their teeth into you.
“I read through the company’s financials and had my accountant do the same,” I say. My dad pulls on his suit jacket and shifts in his chair. Franklin does the same.
“I’m not coming back to work. I’m not taking the Sales Manager position.”
My father pushes forward in his chair, and I can see the vein in his forehead starting to pop out. He’s feeling the reins being pulled straight from his hands. But I go on before he can protest.
“But I will help get this company back on its feet—under a few conditions.”
He leans back in his chair, his eyebrows knitted together.
“I looked through the files Mom sent and took the liberty of logging into the system to do some investigating of my own. Are you aware that out of two thousand employees, only a little less than six percent of your employees are minority?”
My father blinks.
“And that out of thirty-five executives, not a single one of them is a person of color?”
He blinks again, and Franklin clears his throat.
“That brings me to my recommendation. Under minority-owned business status, the company can qualify for state and federal help and be given priority contract work, bringing in more revenue.”
He blinks faster now, then his eyes dart from me, to Franklin, back to me.
“Minority-owned?” he asks. I nod.
“Yes.” I open my laptop and press a button to start a video call. In a moment’s time, Jeffrey and Tony both appear on my screen. “Th
is is Tony Prince, my financial advisor. And this is Jeffrey Tate, my lawyer.”
My dad’s eyes grow wide as he looks at the men, then to me.
“Your lawyer?”
I nod.
“I’ve had Jeffrey here draw up some paperwork that I have for you. In it, it explains that you will be stepping down as CEO and signing ownership of the company over to Franklin J. Sommers in order to apply for and obtain minority-owned business status,” I say. Jeffrey smiles and holds up the packet of paperwork he wrote up for me as I simultaneously slide the copy for my father across the table. Franklin stares at me, his jaw to the floor.
My father is completely speechless, his face red and splotchy, his eyes darting back and forth across the paperwork. He thinks for a minute then slides it across the table to me forcefully.
“You think you’re just gonna walk in here after all this time and take my company away?” he asks through gritted teeth. “I built this company from the ground up. That’s my name on this building.” I know that if he didn’t have an audience, his cool would have been completely lost by now. But I keep mine. Easy and steady.
“That’s true,” I say. “You did start the company. But if memory serves, you had a partner originally, who happens to be your longest standing employee. Mr. Franklin J. Sommers.”
My father’s eyes slowly move across the table to Franklin, who is just staring down at the paperwork.
“That doesn’t solve the fact that we’re running out of money as we speak. I still can’t afford to pay everyone, and getting minority status will take months, if not longer,” my father says, running a hand through his over-gelled hair.
“That’s where I come in,” I say. “I recently came into an inheritance.”
My father’s eyes dart back to me, one eyebrow raised.
“Tony?” I say. Tony clears his throat.
“Ah, yes. After running some numbers based on the financials your wife sent, we determined the total amount you’d need for overhead to keep the company afloat for the next six months,” he says. “You’ll see that on page three. Now, we also determined that while there have been layoffs and salary freezes, all thirty-five of the executives have received not only their annual raises, but also their bonuses. Is that correct?”
Stones Unturned (Meade Lake Series Book 2) Page 18
