Chapter 28

Heather heaved a sigh of relief as the frantic rush of checkout ended, and the mini-bus taking the guests to the airport pulled away down the long, winding driveway through the woods. Jeff and she waved and smiled until it was out of sight, and they both let the grins fall from their faces.

Jeff rolled his shoulders to ease some tension and exchanged a knowing glance with her. “That was a tough group, very demanding. You really earned your salary and then some this week.”

Her pulse picked up at his words: And then some? Had she misunderstood the situation? Were Jeff and Cisco going to offer both Mick and her a piece of the Retreat at Rivers Bend?

“Thanks, Jeff. I love what I do here.”

They turned and walked into the lobby.

Jeff gestured to the door to their offices. “Want to come back to my office? I’d like to talk to you about something on that subject.”

Heather’s heart rate went from a mellow folk song rhythm to death-metal pace. It seemed like Jeff was going to offer her part-ownership; her dreams weren’t about to be dashed!

She preceded him through the door he held open for her. “Sure. That sounds great.”

Jeff frowned, and his brows formed a ‘V.’ “It does?”

His surprise puzzled her. Didn’t Jeff know how much a stake in the business she’d worked so hard to build would mean to her? “Well…yeah. Of course it does.”

“Okaaay.” Jeff drew out the word in a dubious tone, as he sat behind his desk, and she took a seat opposite him.

Jeff fiddled with a little pile of paperclips on his desk, as he stared at them with the intensity he usually reserved for Magda, his daughter, and football. Either they were the most fascinating paper clips to ever come off the assembly line, or her brother was avoiding eye contact with her. Weird.

“This is really hard for me,” he said at last.

She smiled at him. “Don’t be nervous. I think I know where you’re going with this little talk, and it’s what I’ve always wanted.”

Jeff looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. “It is?”

She nodded. “Yes! Well…not always, but ever since we started the Retreat.”

His eyebrows shot up so fast and far, she was afraid they were going to shoot off his face and through the ceiling. “It is? That long?”

“Sure,” she said with a little less confidence, as she started to suspect she didn’t know what was going on here.

“Okay then. Since this is clearly so important to you, I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay on account of Cisco and me. We want you to follow your dreams, baby sister.”

Her heart, which had been beating like a hummingbird, felt like it stopped entirely for a moment, before it plummeted to her toes. “What? Follow my dreams to where?”

Jeff shrugged, clearly perplexed by her question, and he held out his hands, palms up. “I don’t know. Wherever they take you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Hold on a minute here, Jefferson Lee Braden…”

He winced at her use of his full name. “You sounded just like Mom the time she caught Ty and I sneaking a beer in the barn when we were kids. Why am I in trouble? I don’t want you to go…”

“You’re firing me? That’s what you wanted to talk to me about? You’re freaking firing me?” Her voice sounded shrill, even to her own ears, but she couldn’t seem to care. She was so furious she was about to let Jeff long for the manure-shoveling punishment he got for the beer drinking episode.

His eyes shifted, and he went back to bending the crap out of the poor paperclips. “Not firing you…exactly. I definitely wouldn’t call it firing you.”

“Oh no? Then, do tell, what would you call it?”

He hesitated, eyes squinted as he seemed to search for the right words. “I’m not sure what I’d call it…maybe releasing you?”

“Releasing me.” She was pleased her voice was back to its normal, lower register, and less like a fishwife, but she was still ready to string her older brother up in the tallest tree she could find.

He responded only to her apparent calmness, seemingly unaware of the danger he was still in at her hands. Okay. She knew she wouldn’t really kill her brother, but no jury in the land would convict her if she roughed him up just a little.

“Yes. Releasing you to your future.”

“My future doing what, precisely?”

“Your future to pursue your dreams, Heather.” He cocked his head. “I’m starting to feel like this conversation has lapped itself. What am I missing here?”

She snorted. “Magda has been good for you; it took you way less time than usual for you to realize you’re being a complete and total dumbass.”

He threw down the paperclips, and they skittered across the desk, as his nervousness as a boss in an uncomfortable conversation with an employee gave way to good old brotherly anger. “I’m a dumbass now? What the hell, Heather? I’m trying to do what’s best for you—what you want—even though it’s going to leave me and my business in complete chaos, and I’m a dumbass.”

Her head actually snapped back on her neck at his words, as if she’d been smacked upside the head. Words failed her, and she felt like a just-caught fish, with the way her mouth kept opening and closing. She swallowed hard, and spoke, “I think I’m starting to figure out what’s going on here. Cisco and you think I want to leave the Retreat now that I have my degree?”

Jeff flopped back in his big, leather desk chair, visibly relieved at the lessening of the tension in the air between them. “Exactly. Yes.”

She scowled at him, and he tensed up again, and squirmed in his seat. “Then you’re both dumbasses!”

He sat up straight, and grabbed another poor, defenseless paperclip. “Why? You worked so hard for your degree; we assumed you wanted to use it to move on to bigger and better things.”

“Bigger and better things?” she parroted his words back at him. “What bigger and better things? Homelessness and the unemployment line? I did work hard in school, yes, but it’s because I’m a hard-worker. Hey, you know what else I worked hard on for years? This stinking business! I’ve been in it every step of the way since it was just an idea we had in a bull session with Cisco when we all lived back in Portland.”

He nodded. “You have been with us since the beginning. You oversaw the property renovation while we finished the football season in Portland. Hell, you even used to help us clean guest rooms before we could afford a chambermaid. You’ve been a clutch player on this team. We’d never have the success we do now if it hadn’t been for all your help.”

Tears, both angry ones and sad ones, burned her eyes and throat. Her voice was rough when she spoke, “I worked hard because the Retreat is my dream. I love what I do here; I helped you build this business from nothing, and now my reward is to get fired.” She chuckled humorlessly. “Sorry, not fired, released, while you offer Mick, who is doing a great job, but has been here for like two minutes, a partnership?”

Now Jeff looked like one of the fish they’d catch when they went out on his little bass-fishing boat. “Hold on here, the Retreat is your dream? You don’t want to leave us? Your goal wasn’t some hotshot job in D.C. or Baltimore, but a piece of the Retreat?”

She touched her index finger to the tip of her nose. “Bing, bing, bing, bing, bing! Give the man a prize!”

He sank back into his chair again. “Well, hell, Cisco and I completely misinterpreted the situation.”

“Ya think?”

He frowned at her. “Sarcasm isn’t going to help us here, Ms. Snark.”

“Sorry. I just can’t believe you thought I wanted to leave! I love it here, and when you started talking to me about offering Mick a partnership, I couldn’t believe my ears. I assumed you’d offer me some stake in the business once I had my degree. I know I don’t have the capital to buy in, the way Mick does…”

Jeff interrupted her, “No, but you’ve got a fortune in sweat equity invested here. Money is not the issue. Cisco and I honestly thought we were sacrificing the good of the business for your happiness. We were trying to do what was best for you. Damn, girl, do you know how many times the two of us have cried into our beer, trying to figure out how in the hell we would keep this place going without you? We’d never be able to find anyone to fill your shoes”—his eyes twinkled—“and not just because your feet are so big.”

She smiled, and fought against the tears of relief, which burned her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. “Hey, I’m really tall! If I had little feet, I’d just topple over.”

He laughed. “I need to discuss details with Cisco, but if you’re serious about wanting to stay at the Retreat…”

“I am,” she interrupted.

“Good. Thank you, Jesus!” he grinned. “Then we can offer both Mick and you a stake in the business. Cisco and I want to maintain a controlling interest, but we’ll be able to offer you both lesser percentages. Mick’s business acumen and sales contacts are helping propel us to the next stage, but you’ve been integral to getting us to where we are today. Your day-to-day management skills keep operations running smoothly. We’d be honored to have you as a partner too.”

She blinked rapidly. “Dang! I don’t want to cry.”

Her big, burly brother laughed once. “You don’t? That’s funny, ’cause I’m about one second away from bawling here!”

****

As she hauled herself up the stairs, Heather could hear muted music wafting through her apartment door. She smiled, and felt a little bit of the pressure of the workweek, not to mention the emotional upheaval of her meeting with Jeff, melt away with each step.

Mick must be home from his business trip to Baltimore. She’d missed seeing him at work today, and was glad he was staying with her this week, so she could see him tonight. She pulled her apartment key from her pocket, and was just about to insert it in the lock, when the door flew open.

Mick filled the doorway, and in his dress slacks, with his button-down shirt open at the neck, and the cuffs rolled up over his forearms, Mick looked every bit as edible as the amazing aromas coming out of her tiny kitchen. Embarrassingly, her tummy rumbled at the tantalizing smells.

Mick grinned as he wiped his hands on a striped dishtowel, and then tossed it over his shoulder. “I thought I heard you coming up the stairs! I’m glad you’re hungry. I made dinner for us.”

He stepped aside to let her in, and shut the door behind her. She froze in amazement one step into her apartment. The little table, where she usually sat to eat her yogurt in the morning and her takeout at night, was set with her mismatched dishware, and the fat relaxation candle she used when she took a long soak in her tub with a good book. On the funky tiki bar she’d bought at a yard sale when she first moved in to her own place, sat a bottle of wine from a local winery and two glasses.

Mick stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned back against his strength and warmth, and thought even though she’d been lucky enough to be raised with love, in a big, loud, happy family, she’d never felt as treasured as she did at this precise moment. She finally got what her mother meant, when she told her even though she’d lost her husband—Heather’s father—too soon, she wouldn’t have done anything differently, because the time spent together was worth it. She rubbed her head against Mick’s cheek, and wondered how to let him know she was willing to face her fears of losing him, like she’d lost her father, and take the big leap into life with him.

Her stomach rumbled again, this time she thought it was in protest of the delay in eating the delicious-smelling food. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

“I knew the group we had in at the Retreat this week was a bunch of demanding jerks, so I figured you’d be exhausted and hungry tonight. Before I left for Baltimore this morning, I threw the fixings for pot roast into the crock pot.”

“Wow. Cooking in the crock pot, what a concept! I just bought it because it looked kitschy and retro, I thought it went with my apartment.”

She felt his body shake as he laughed. “Surprise! It cooks food too.”

She moaned, and felt his arms tighten around her in response to the sound. “On top of all your other mad-skills, you can make pot roast too? You really are the perfect man, aren’t you?”

He pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head, to add to his perfection for her, he was the only man she’d ever dated who was tall enough to do it, and released her to walk over to the tiki bar.

He poured them each a balloon glass of red wine, as he spoke, “I didn’t want to eat out every night, so I learned how to cook. But I have to admit, since I usually just cook for myself, I only know how to make guy food like pot roast, and I started thinking while I was waiting for you to get home, you might not like pot roast.”

She took a deep breath of the intoxicating fragrance of roasted meat and aromatic vegetables, and said in a deeply heartfelt manner, “I love pot roast! Thank you! And do I smell biscuits baking?”

He handed her a glass of wine and clinked his glass to hers. They both took a sip, and then he ducked his head sheepishly as he answered, “You do, but they’re just from a can. I didn’t have time to make them from scratch today.”

She savored the taste of the hearty, peppery red wine on her tongue, and shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re apologizing for not having homemade biscuits for me. When I’m cooking, I consider the canned ones to be homemade. And truthfully, I do eat takeout most nights. If I’m doing the ‘cooking.’ ” She made air quotes around the last word, “I’m microwaving a frozen dinner.”

His phone chimed in his pocket. He pulled it out and tapped the screen to stop the sound, before calling over his shoulder as he rushed to the kitchen, “That timer means the biscuits are done. But I want you to have a chance to relax a bit before we eat. Why don’t you sit down and enjoy your wine while I pull the biscuits out of the oven.”

She sighed with happiness as she sank into her comfy sofa. “You don’t have to ask me twice. It has been a long week. I feel like a queen, Mick, thank you again.”

She heard the clatter of the cookie sheet from the kitchen, and his voice from the pass-through opening cut into the wall between the kitchen and living room. “I should be the one thanking you for taking my mom to Washington, and helping her jump through all the hoops she needed to, in order to get her passport expedited.”

She slipped out of her shoes as he talked, stretched her legs out, and wriggled her tired toes. “No need to thank me, I’m good at organizing stuff, and we had a nice day together. My mom is so excited to have her as a traveling companion, I was happy to do it for both of them.”

He came back in the room and sat next to her; his long legs stretched out next to hers. “Still, I know what a hassle that kind of thing can be, and I appreciate it. My mom hasn’t always had a lot of help, and it means a lot to me you went out of your way to rearrange your schedule during a busy week to help her.”

She bumped his leg with hers. “Anytime.”

He snaked his left arm around her shoulders, and took a sip of his wine with his right. She nestled in against his broad shoulder. Heaven.

They sat like that for a few moments before he spoke again, and listened to the classical music playing from his iPod on the docking station in the kitchen. She usually listened to country music, but this was nice. The piece he’d chosen to play was peaceful and soothed her jangled nerves.

He cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice sounded just the littlest bit unsure, which was not like Mick, “While I was in Baltimore today, I arranged for an outing for tomorrow, and I’d really like for you to come.”

She inhaled the fresh piney scent of his aftershave, as she nuzzled his neck, near where her head rested. “We don’t have any guests at the Retreat tomorrow, so I think I can get away. What’s up?”

“I met with a guy I know from back in the day, who’s with the Orioles front office now. And by the way, I think we’ll be doing a retreat for their staff in the off-season. But, anyway, he arranged for a bunch of us to go to tomorrow’s game at Camden Yards. I thought it would be fun for Mom to go to the city. We could walk around the Inner Harbor, and then take in the game.”

His voice still sounded nervous, which confused her since his offer was freaking awesome! She jolted up in her seat and bounced in place. “Are you kidding me? I love the O’s! Count me in!”

He smiled, and she thought he looked relieved at her answer. She was a rabid Orioles fan. Did he really think she’d say no? Maybe it was because he usually dated more sophisticated girly-girls like Gloria. But a good-old girl like her couldn’t think of a better way to spend an early summer day than at the ballpark

“Good,” satisfaction was evident in his voice, and he repeated a little louder, and more firmly, “Good. That’s good.”

She swatted his arm. “Was there any doubt in your mind? Beer, crab cakes, and my favorite team, how could I say no?”

“I thought you might like the Nationals.”

She shook her head with vigor. “No. A lot of people in Virginia do now, but I was an O’s fan before the Nats came to Washington, and I’m an O’s fan still. I bleed orange, baby! Oh! And I just remembered they’re playing the Yankees tomorrow! It should be a great game.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and the glimmer in his brown eyes made her feel like she was missing a good joke. “I’m really hoping it will be a memorable one.”