Since youve been gone, p.3
Since You've Been Gone, page 3
“Even if I did believe you, Costa Rica is pretty far from Spain, last I checked.” She retreated toward her room, looked back once with a sad smile, then ducked inside.
Right. Time never seemed to be on their side, and Leah was determined never to fully trust him.
PRESENT DAY
They had been snowed in at the hotel the next day as well, but they never neared the subject of high school again. On Monday, Jon had driven her to the airport before heading to Heritage, and he hadn’t seen or heard from her since. Not until she walked into his office today. But if he had his way, it wouldn’t be the last time.
The alarm on his cell chimed, and Jon stood and scooped up his stack of papers, then exited his office.
“Hannah Taylor called again, asking about the bachelor auction in July.” His secretary, Marcy, held up a piece of paper.
Jon hated the idea of the bachelor auction, but Hannah was married to his best friend. And there was no way he’d be able to tell his best friend’s wife no. Not to mention it was for a good cause.
He read the note over, then handed it back. “Can you call her and tell her I’m in?”
Marcy blushed as she grabbed a pen and made a note. “The ladies of Heritage will be happy to hear that.”
Jon ignored the comment as he made his way to the conference room. He yanked open the heavy door, drawing every eye in the room as the debate stuttered to a halt.
He checked his watch as he moved to his spot at the table and slipped into his chair. “I thought the meeting started at ten.”
“We moved it up to nine thirty. But I knew you had another meeting.” His uncle waved his hand. “You didn’t miss much.”
Didn’t miss much? The more he hung around, the more he was beginning to realize that he’d missed a lot over the past two and a half years, and if he didn’t watch his back, he might end up missing everything.
He opened the agenda and scanned it. Teft Road Building Project? There was nothing on Teft Road but a few houses, JJ’s Food Mart, and . . . the building where Leah wanted to reopen the WIFI.
Leah and Caroline still owned a percentage of that building. The company would have to buy them out to do anything with the space. Not to mention the verbal agreement Leah said she’d had with his late father.
Jon placed his finger on the building project line. “What’s this?”
His uncle’s grin widened a bit before he seemed to catch himself. “We’ve been approached by a chain store that would like to bring their business to town. After their interest, I put out some feelers and have received several other offers. We”—he motioned to the whole board—“feel like this would be a great opportunity for you to show your strengths as a future leader of this company. We’d like you to be the point man on it.”
No doubt Uncle Dale meant show his strength by pushing Leah out and strong-arming the town into a store they didn’t want. His uncle had probably pushed the meeting with Leah to Jon’s agenda because he knew what she wanted, and this way he’d make Jon the bad guy.
Everything in him wanted to fight this, but one look at the men’s faces and it was clear that they agreed with Uncle Dale. Which meant this was a lose-lose situation.
If he brought in this chain, Leah would never forgive him. But if he failed the board, he might lose his father’s company for good.
two
Leah refused to let a little thing like money stand in the way of her dream. She climbed out of her car and approached the back door of the WIFI. The old building stood frozen in time like the day she had left—untouched by the past two and a half years. The red brick, the green paint chipping off the wooden door, even the brass plate with the address 247 that tilted slightly to the left had simply paused, waiting for her. She only had to convince the powers that be, aka Jonathan Kensington, that this was her time.
But seriously, if she heard the words business model or marketing analysis one more time, she might throw her coffee at him.
Leah set her latte on the concrete window ledge like she’d done a hundred times before then dug around in her purse until she located the familiar brass key but then paused. The door was the same, but that lock was definitely new. How dare he change the locks on her. She still partly owned this space.
No matter. Shifting her purse to her other arm, she surveyed the area. Not that the alley behind the WIFI was a hangout spot, but she still didn’t care for a witness of this less-than-graceful move.
Leah stared down at her vintage seventies jeans and graphic tee. She hated getting them dirty, but at least she hadn’t worn her newly completed rag skirt that she’d made from scraps of chiffon.
With only Oliver the stray orange cat to witness her possible humiliation, Leah ran her hand down the peeling white windowpane until she found the familiar nail and popped it free. She gave the old window a slight shove, and it swung inward with a squeak.
Her grandfather had shown her this trick back in the day. Although that had been in case she ever locked herself out, not so she could commit a felony. Was breaking and entering a felony? Surely not, if she rightfully owned part of the business.
Leah tossed her purse inside and lifted herself onto the sill. She swung her legs in and jumped down, landing hard on the floor. Oof. She’d always left a chair here for that very reason.
Her chest tightened at the emptiness of Caroline’s office. Leah had been readying for Costa Rica the last day Caroline had locked up. She’d had a list a mile long of things to do that day, but she’d also not wanted to see it like this.
Leah swallowed back the lump in her throat, reclaimed her coffee, and secured the window before heading down the hall toward the main room. She braced herself, but the emotional onslaught didn’t come. She’d expected the place to feel like home, but it was just . . . empty.
The mug tree that had held enough cups for all their friends—gone. The photos of her grandfather by the cash register—gone. The antique cash register itself—gone. All that remained was the single counter and cobwebs in every corner. And . . . well, that was new. A black box with a red light blinked at her.
Leah squinted at it and stepped closer. “What do you suppose . . . ?”
She shrugged it off and pulled a small sketch pad from her purse. It might be empty now, but Leah was ready to breathe a little life back into the WIFI. Her pencil flew across the small paper in angled lines as she laid out her plans for the revived store. She’d start with updated tables and counters for the products. Maybe she could hang her clothes over there—
“This wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I said come up with a new plan.”
Jon stood at the end of the hall, inches inside the back door. He’d exchanged his gray tie for a black one and his black suit for a gray one, but it fit as well as the other suit as if it had been tailored to his wide shoulders. Of course, it had been. This was Jon.
“How did you—”
“We had a few break-ins last month, so I installed cameras that are linked to my cell phone.” He joined her in the main room, then pointed up at the red light.
“Your cell phone?” She glanced again at the red light. Her face warmed at the idea that there might be a camera in the office as well that had captured her entrance. “Shouldn’t it be to a security system or the police?”
“Aren’t you glad it’s not? They might be carting you off to jail right now.” Jon rubbed his hand across his jaw as he failed to hide his amusement. “Maybe I should call the police though.”
“I do own a portion of the building, and soon I’ll have a business again right here.”
Jon winced at her words, and the teasing faded from his expression.
“I will come up with a plan. It may take a while, but—”
“You don’t have a while.” Jon flipped his keys on his finger a few times, then shoved them in his pocket. “The board wants me to negotiate a deal with a major chain store to take over this whole block. From Second Street to Henderson Road. We still have to decide on which company, but—”
“What?” Leah slammed her coffee down on the one remaining counter. “I own part of this building, and I won’t sell.”
Jon leaned back against the front window and crossed his arms. “I read over the contract that my dad had with your grandfather years ago. There’s a forced buyout clause if the WIFI is no longer financially viable.” He motioned to the empty room. “I think this would qualify as not financially viable.”
“You can’t do that.” Her voice cracked, and she dropped her chin as she cleared her throat. She refused to look weak in front of Jon. She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Your dad said—”
“My dad isn’t here.” Jon pushed away from the window. “I’m here, and I’m trying not to lose the respect of my entire board.”
“So, that’s it? You made your decision, and I get no say in it at all.” She picked her coffee back up and spun the paper cup in her hand as she turned her back to him. “You’ll write the check and be done with it.”
“I don’t want this any more than you do.” His voice moved closer, and its gentle timbre eased beneath her defenses, picking at that corner of what-ifs and if-onlys.
When his hand landed on her shoulder, part of her wanted to accept the comfort he offered. Cry about the unfairness of this situation and that Dale Kensington would get his way once again. Cry about the fact that she’d let her idealism drain the life out of the WIFI over two years ago and, in the process, lost the legacy her grandfather had left her. And cry about the fact that everyone seemed to be thriving in life but her. Caroline was about to become a mother, all Leah’s friends had moved forward in life, and Leah was back where she’d started.
Jon gently squeezed her shoulder, but Leah stepped away from his touch and blinked away the tears. She steeled herself against the warmth he offered. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—open her heart up like that to him. To anyone. Her parents’ marriage had taught her that love had the power to destroy a person, and Leah had vowed never to depend on a man.
Jon sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wish it could be different, but I don’t see another option.”
“I’ve got an option for you.” She spun toward him and hardened her expression. “It’s your company, Jon. Tell your board no.”
“Sure.” All emotion faded from his face. “I’ll tell them that I’m going to pass on a multimillion-dollar deal because some girl I’ve been infatuated with for years might someday have a plan to do something with her part of the building.”
Leah gasped at his confession but didn’t comment.
Jon opened his mouth to say something more but seemed to think better of it. He closed his mouth and worked his jaw before glancing back toward the window. “I don’t like the idea of a chain store in the middle of Heritage either, but I don’t see a way around it.”
“This isn’t how it was supposed to go.” She didn’t even try to hide the emotion in her voice this time.
Jon turned away with a shrug. “I can give you a week to come up with something for me to present to the board, but other than that, I have to move forward on this.”
“A week?” She’d racked her brain for the past few months and had only gotten a concept. A week more wouldn’t make any difference in developing a whole plan.
He walked toward the back door and held it open. “I’d be happy to help—”
“I think you’ve helped quite enough.” She marched toward her car. Maybe she did need help, but not from Jon Kensington. Anyone but him.
Jon slid into his car and resisted the urge to slam the door. Leah was going to drive him crazy. He’d never met someone so stubborn—except for maybe his sister. If Leah didn’t kill him off, trying to raise Abby might.
He rubbed his hand over his forehead and searched his brain for ideas of where his sister could be. He’d gotten a call from the school saying Abby had been marked absent about the time the alarms on his phone went off for the WIFI. He’d been so sure it was Abby that he hadn’t even bothered checking the video feed. After all, the previous break-ins had been her and her friends cutting school.
The last person he’d expected to find was his favorite fiery redhead dressed like she belonged in That ’70s Show, complete with those low jeans that hugged her hips and a T-shirt that made him believe seventies fashion had been underappreciated in recent years. She stood there sketching away like she hadn’t a care in the world. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so relaxed—definitely not around him. The girl was vibrant and full of life. The more time he spent with her, the more he craved her color in his gray world.
He’d have watched her a little longer if he hadn’t feared she’d look up and catch him. She already thought he was a jerk. No reason to add creeper to the list.
Which was why he shouldn’t have moved so close. But when her voice began to shake, it took all his strength not to promise her that he’d make things work. He wanted to. He just didn’t see how.
Heritage Fruits had branched out into real estate with his father, but it had always been more about investing in the community than the bottom dollar. And maybe that should be his priority now, but with everything that had been going on since his father’s death, Jon needed to make sure the factory was being taken care of—that the workers were being taken care of. He owed that much to the families of Heritage.
His phone chimed, and he glanced at it as a text popped up from Luke.
Saw Abby heading west on Heritage Road in case you wanted to know.
West? The few friends she did have lived east of Heritage.
Alone?
Yup.
What was west? Besides the lake, the only thing west was . . . His heart lurched as he recalled the date. May 28. Dad’s birthday. She was going to the lighthouse.
Thanks. On it.
He started his car and pulled out on Henderson, then turned west on Heritage. He was too young to be parenting a teenager. He’d still been a teenager himself nine years ago.
Over the last six months, his sister had tested him every chance she got. If he said left, she went right. If he said hurry up, she slowed down. And if he said get to school, she decided to skip her final day. Maybe he should tell her to fail the two summer classes she had to take. Then she might just ace them out of spite.
But today was different. Today would’ve been their dad’s fifty-fifth birthday.
He pulled into the parking lot and parked next to her red Mustang. He climbed out and followed the path through the dunes to the base of the lighthouse. His eyes swept the area a few times before he spotted her tucked up along the grass line, staring out at the water.
He slipped off his shoes and socks and loosened his tie before walking over to join her.
“I’m not going to school. It’s the last day. It doesn’t matter anyway.” Her tone wasn’t defiant, just resigned—broken.
That’s what they both were. Broken. The second their parents had been hit by that drunk driver three years ago, their lives had shattered, with no one there to help them pick up the pieces. Their parents had always kept the family close. Now they survived from day to day. And judging by Abby’s grades and the problems at Heritage Fruits, they weren’t surviving very well.
Jon dropped down next to her and stretched out his legs as he leaned back on his hands. “Do you remember how Dad always burned the last pancake on Saturday mornings? He’d scrape the batter onto the skillet and then get so busy warming up the syrup and pulling out the orange juice that he’d burn it. Every week.”
Abby released a half laugh, half sob. “Yes. But he’d always eat it. Even though half the time there were too many.”
“‘Can’t let it go to waste.’” He dropped his voice to mimic his dad’s tone.
“Wow, that sounded too much like him.” Abby picked up a handful of sand and let it sift through her fingers. “Do you remember how he would sing hymns in the shower on Sunday mornings?”
“So loud.”
“I could always hear him through the vents. He was so off-key, and Mom would giggle from the kitchen and tell me I should appreciate his joy.”
“I hated getting woken up by his singing.”
“Me too. But I would kill for it now.” Abby leaned forward and hugged her knees as a full sob escaped from her chest. “I miss them so much.”
Jon wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to his side. “Me too, Little-Bit.”
When he loosened his hold, she stretched out her legs in the sand. “Are we going to make it? I know we’re set with money. But you . . . me . . . our futures. Did this mess us up indefinitely? I mean, one of my friends was ragging on his mom for grounding him the other day, and I almost punched him. At least he has a mom. But then I was thinking. It’s been three years. Isn’t the grief supposed to go away at some point?”
“I don’t think the grief ever goes away. It just looks different. I think we’ll always miss Mom and Dad. I think when I get married someday, part of my heart will grieve that they aren’t there to meet my wife. Hold their grandkids. Give me advice. But there will still be lots to find joy in.”
“A wife? I haven’t heard you talk like that before. That wouldn’t have anything to do with the woman we gave a ride to at the airport, would it?” She nudged his shoulder with hers. “I saw her at Donny’s the other day.”
Jon rubbed his hands together as he sifted through his words. Maybe Leah’s face had popped into his mind when he said the word wife, but he wasn’t about to mention that. “Her name’s Leah. And yes, she’s back, but that doesn’t mean—”
“Whatever. Keep lying to yourself all you want. I can tell—”
“She’s not interested. She’s been pretty clear about that.”
“Oh, she’s interested. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Boys really are dense sometimes.”
Jon couldn’t ignore the slight thrill that ran through him at her words. Could Leah be interested? Even if she was, she definitely wanted him to believe she was not, so he had no idea what to do with that.
