Love in Bloom, page 20
“Well, you can’t have both, dumb-ass. That’s your problem,” Croix pointed out. “Pick one, accept it, and move on.”
“Thanks for the insight, Dr. Croix. I’ll get right on that.” Miller stood and began to clear the table.
“Maybe you can have both. Is there a way to shift things so you get what you want and she gets what she wants?” Jackson asked.
Miller sat back down with a huff. Evidently, the conversation wasn’t over. “I’m not following.”
“Is there a way for you to get the benefits of being a partner without actually being a partner? Or pushing back the partner goal for a year to give her more time to get used to the idea. Something like that.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Miller scraped up some remaining caramel from his plate and popped it into his mouth.
“You know, Miller,” Mrs. Hart said, “goals are important, but sometimes you need to change them when they no longer work for you. There’s no shame in that. Think about it.” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Miller stood and started to clear the table again. The men made quick work of clean-up and soon they were outside saying their thanks and goodbyes to Mrs. Hart.
“I say we roll down the hill,” Parker suggested, patting his full belly.
“I have a better idea,” Mrs. Hart said. “Jackson, take my car keys. You can bring it back later.” Jackson bent down and gave her a quick kiss. “Thanks, Gram, you really are the best.” Miller saw her pull out her phone and type as they backed out of the driveway. Huh, look at that. Mrs. H texts.
13
August
Miller and Rica sat at a cafe table outside of Mom’s Deli, soaking up the midday sun. Miller loosened his silk tie. It was hot and humid, and an accurate reflection of his mood. He still stewed about the intervention last weekend. What made it worse was they were right. Isolating himself wasn’t the solution. And lunch with Rica seemed like a good place to start. They both needed to eat and since she was a pseudo-colleague, it might help his reputation at work. He’d noticed people steering clear of him and whispering in his vicinity.
He’d hoped lunch with Rica would pull him out of his foul mood, but her work complaints just dragged him further into it. She rented office space from AAS and per her contract she had access to the copier, internet, conference room, reception, everything an AAS employee had access to. Several times in the last few weeks, she’d reserved the conference room for client meetings, but when the time had come, someone else was using it with a legal client, so she had to have her meeting at the table in her office. “To some clients, a messy desk indicates a messy mind, and that’s not a good look for a financial planner,” she said, shaking a few potato chips out of her bag. And lately, William Anderson had complained about her copier use, too.
“The man is penny wise and pound foolish, if you ask me,” Rica observed. Miller agreed. It looked like he wasn’t the only one unhappy with the partners at AAS. “Hopefully things will change once you’re partner.” She looked at him over her raspberry French soda.
“I wouldn’t count on it. The family tends to stick together.”
“But once you’re one of them, they’ll have to listen, right?” She shook her drink and the ice cubes redistributed the cream.
“What do you mean ‘one of them’?” Miller used air quotes. Rica leaned forward.
“You don’t need to play dumb with me. Everyone in the office knows you and Michelle are dating.”
“We’re not,” he argued, sighing heavily. Well, that explains why the other associates have been acting weird. They think I’m sleeping with Princess.
“Does she know that?” Miller didn’t appreciate the way the corner of her mouth tilted up. This wasn’t funny.
“I took her out to dinner once last fall when she’d first moved back. We’ve grabbed lunch a few times, like you and I do. Occasionally, we’ve walked to the bakery for a mid-afternoon sugar fix. But there’s been nothing after-hours unless it was a work event. How could she misconstrue that?”
“I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like dating to me,” she agreed. “Unless we’ve time traveled back five hundred years.”
“Yeah, well this isn’t Game of Thrones.” Miller wiped his mouth and tossed the crumpled napkin on the table.
“Either way, I’d watch your back,” Rica suggested. “If anyone says anything, I’ll correct them. And if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks. Good to know I have an ally in this.” He gave her a tight smile and stood to leave. Friday could not come soon enough.
“Oh, good, you’re all here,” Gus said, looking around the table. Miller, Jackson, Croix, and Parker looked back at him. Gus set a Reserved sign on the table. “Come with me. This won’t take long.” The men exchanged looks. This was odd behavior, even from Gus. “Come on, come on, come on,” he urged. “I’m not getting any younger, and Nelie won’t keep an eye on your table forever.” He gestured for them to follow him. They didn’t have much choice.
Two blocks later, he ushered them into an abandoned storefront on Main Street. But it wasn’t entirely abandoned. Under a single fluorescent bulb stood Emily, London, Rica, and Mrs. Hart. “You’re late,” Mrs. Hart said to Gus.
“Boys were slow to get moving,” he complained.
“This is a weird surprise,” Jackson said and walked over to give his grandmother a quick peck on the cheek and Emily a longer kiss on the lips. “I thought you had wedding stuff to do,” he said, tucking Emily into his side.
“We do, but your grandmother insisted we stop here first.”
“What’s up, Gus?” Jackson asked.
Gus held his arms open wide and did a slow circle. “What do you think?”
“Of what?” Parker asked.
Miller thought he heard Croix mumble, “It smells funky,” under his breath, and Miller agreed with him. It was musty and dusty. A fire hazard in the making. The men exchanged worried looks. Gus wasn’t a spring chicken. Maybe he was sick.
Gus walked over to the large picture window in the back. “You’ve got a magnificent view of the Poplar River, and this door here is the back entrance. There’s a parking lot for eight cars back there. It’s usable, but you’d want to dump a load of crushed gravel by next spring and resurface it in a few years. And over here, this leads to the second floor.” He hustled over and climbed the stairs. Everyone followed him.
Another large window on the backside, but nothing else. It was bare and dusty, just like the first floor, and shaped the same, a long rectangle with the short sides parallel to the street and river. Gus started back down the stairs and stopped at the bottom. “Lots of room for storage, too.”
“Store what?” Croix asked above him from the stairs.
“Your files, boy. There’s plenty of room for whatever you want. Build-out wouldn’t be too much for several offices, a meeting room, bathroom, storage area.” Gus pointed to his imaginary rooms. “Think of the possibilities!” He looked up at the group, grinning. No one said anything. They looked at each other to see if anyone understood what was going on. Miller shrugged his shoulders, and Croix shrugged back at him. London and Rica left the stairs and went to stand by Mrs. Hart, clearly the saner of the two elders since she had remained on the first floor.
“Gram?” Jackson asked, raking his fingers through his hair.
“What Gus is trying to say is that he owns this building, and he—”
Gus cleared his throat.
“We think it would be a perfect location and a solution to all your problems,” Mrs. Hart explained.
“Whose problems?” Parker asked.
“Why Croix and Miller, of course, unless you have problems, too?” Gus asked and looked at Parker. Parker stepped back.
“You’re both very good at what you do, but neither one of you are happy where you’re at,” Mrs. Hart pointed out. “We thought it might be time for you to start your own business.”
“Or you could keep it separate businesses and just share the space and expenses,” Rica said, wandering around the room.
“You wouldn’t make partnership,” Jackson reminded Miller.
“No. But they’d be their own bosses,” Mrs. Hart asserted.
“And the rent’s reasonable.” Gus named an amount. Miller raised his eyebrows. He didn’t know much about real estate, but he knew Gus was grossly undercharging them.
“I like it and I think you can pull it off,” London said. “I’ll even donate a logo and website design.” Miller knew London’s skills were in high demand and she commanded top dollar. She wouldn’t offer her services if she thought it would be a waste of her time.
“I’ve never thought about going out on my own,” Croix confessed. He rubbed his chin. “It’s a little overwhelming.”
Miller walked around the room and headed back upstairs. Not much to look at, but he saw potential. Like Croix, he’d never envisioned himself working independently. But just because he’d never considered it, didn’t mean he shouldn’t. He walked back down the dusty stairs wiggling the banister every few steps to check for soundness.
On the main level, everyone was discussing the pros and cons of the offer. Everyone except Croix. Miller walked over to him. “Thoughts?”
“Too many.” Croix chuckled and shook his head. “Everyone thinks we could do this and be successful at it.”
“That’s some comfort, but it doesn’t really help, does it?”
“No,” Croix agreed.
“I’d like to think about it,” Miller admitted. Croix nodded his agreement. “If we go ahead, how do you feel about asking Rica to join us?”
“I think a financial adviser would be a great compliment to an accountant and a lawyer.” Croix looked at Miller.
“You wouldn’t feel threatened?” Miller asked.
“Nah. There’s some overlap, but it isn’t the type of work I enjoy. From what my clients have told me and the year-end financial statements I’ve seen, Rica is great at it. She’d be an asset.”
“Gus, when do you need an answer?” Miller asked, as he and Croix rejoined the group.
The old man scrunched up his head and made a big production of thinking. “No rush. If someone else is interested in the building, I’ll let you know.”
“You’ll both think about this?” Mrs. Hart prodded. Miller knew he wouldn’t be thinking about anything else. Well, this and Wren, of course.
Gus’s offer didn’t make work any easier for Miller. Now minor inconveniences at AAS became major reasons to leave. But early partnership was what he’d dreamed of since entering law school. Could he walk away from that? Partner versus business owner. They meant the same thing, didn’t they? And if they did, then why was the idea of owning his own business that much more frightening?
Wren would have told him to reframe it. Call it challenging, not frightening. God, I miss her, he thought for about the tenth time that day and it wasn’t even noon, yet.
Bob knocked on Miller’s door as he was finishing some notes. “Can you join us in the conference room for a few minutes?” Old man Anderson probably wants to reprimand me for using too many paper clips, Miller thought darkly as he trailed Bob down the hallway.
Miller sat at the far side of the conference table, away from the pack. Everyone smiled, except Diane. William Anderson cleared his throat and stood. “Miller, you’re a good attorney and a hard worker. Clueless on the business end of running a firm, but I’m sure you’ll learn quickly when it’s your pocketbook taking the hit.” William chuckled at his not-so-subtle jab at Miller’s expenses. Miller kept his tongue and his seat. “If you continue to meet the expectations of the firm and can make the commitment, you’d be a fine addition to our family, and we’d make your partnership official at the new year.”
“Thank you. I’m honored,” Miller said, looking around the table. He paused and then surprised even himself when he said, “I’d like some time to think about this.” Diane paled. Harvey sputtered. William sat back as though slapped. The only one who didn’t act surprised was Bob.
“How about a couple of weeks? You can let us know when we get back from our annual fishing trip to Canada. I know there’s a lot to consider in joining,” Bob said. “This is a big decision that you shouldn’t enter into lightly.” Didn’t see that coming, Miller thought as he walked back to his office.
He’d anticipated this day for almost ten years. He should be more excited. Hell, he should be a little excited, at least. Miller paused. Nope. No excitement at all. Maybe, I’m in shock? I’ll be excited later, he promised himself.
Several days and sleepless nights later, Miller still wasn’t excited. It didn’t help that he was sleeping in a strange bed. They were in Milwaukee for Jackson’s bachelor weekend. Last night, they’d cheered the Twins on to a win at Miller Park.
It had been a close game. Tied at the bottom of the ninth, but a missed catch from the Brewers had allowed the Twins to score. Today, they’d toured several parks with beer gardens during the afternoon, ending up at Sprecher Brewing Company for a private reserved tasting. They’d enjoyed samples of several premium beers paired with artisan cheeses.
But at dinner, Miller had wanted only a big, bold Cabernet with his steak. He drank more than usual, but he’d argued he was on vacation so it didn’t count. Plus, he wasn’t anywhere near the buzz level of some of the others. Eric was especially amusing this evening.
“What’s with the eye?” Miller pointed to the gash and bruise near Eric’s left eyebrow.
“Wren’s painting bit me when we moved it to Mrs. Hart’s.” Didn’t take her long to move on. Miller chewed the steak in his mouth until there was nothing left.
“It was the least I could do. I wish she’d let me help more, but she’s really stubborn and I think she’s sad,” Eric said. Good. Miller’s chest eased. Maybe Wren wasn’t too happy in this new relationship.
“Why’s that?” he asked and took a sip of wine.
“She’s moving.”
“Oh, new apartment?” Miller asked, poker face firmly in place.
“No, man, she’s lost everything. Apartment. Business. Everything.” Eric shook his head at the tragedy.
“Really?” What the hell? Why didn’t she tell me? Miller relaxed his grip on the wine glass when he set it down, empty. “How did that happen? I thought Wallflowers was doing well.” Eric studied the beer mugs in front of him and found one that wasn’t empty. He finished it then looked at Miller with a sloppy, sad expression.
“I overheard my dad on the phone with Diane. Sounded like she’d asked him to kick Wren out so AAS could expand into her spot. Wasn’t hard to do since she was on a month-to-month lease. Kicker is, she’d called my dad several times trying to get a longer lease and the asshole never called her back.” At least that’s what Miller heard through the slurs. Eric stabbed his porterhouse.
“When did this happen?”
“Early July. I’ve been helping her find a new location, but nothing. There’s nothing, man. And no location means no business!” Eric threw his arms wide, smacking Miller in the process. “Shhh”—he put his finger to his lips and looked around nervously —“I’m not supposed to tell anyone, especially Miller.” Eric’s eyes flew open, and he slapped his hand over his mouth when he realized his blunder.
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” Miller patted him on the back.
Wren lost her lease and then broke up with him. It wasn’t a coincidence. And he was positive Diane would have made sure Wren knew she was behind it.
He should have listened to her warnings. If he’d paid attention, he could have stopped all the nonsense. The only nonsense he couldn’t stop was Wren’s irrational fear that she’d change into someone else if their relationship continued after his promotion to partner. He would have made damn sure she didn’t. Miller didn’t want a redheaded Stepford wife. He wanted Wren.
Miller filled his wineglass. Dammit! All he’d needed was more time, and she’d cheated him of that by breaking things off. He’d been dismantling her fears and getting her used to the idea of a long-term relationship. If not for the eviction, he may have been able to convince her she wasn’t bad for his career, that she wouldn’t have to change anything for him. And maybe they’d still be together. But Diane had made sure that hadn’t happened.
Why didn’t she trust him enough to tell him the truth? Miller slammed his fist on the table.
Jackson looked up startled, and cocked an eyebrow. He slid Miller’s wine away from him, but Miller slid it back. “Trust me, I need this tonight. And only tonight.” Miller topped his glass. The other men watched. Miller knew it must be weird for them to see him drink, and even weirder to see him and Jackson butt heads.
“Spill it,” Jackson ordered across the table.
“The wine?”
“No, Mr. Lightweight, what’s bothering you.”
“Wren lost her lease because of me and she didn’t tell me.”
Eric punched him in the shoulder. “Dude, which part of don’t tell anyone did you not understand?” He tossed his hands in the air like Miller was the world’s biggest idiot.
“I’m guessing she didn’t tell you because she knew you’d do something stupid and risk the chance of partnership,” Jackson said, defending Wren. Miller knew he was right. Wren had protected him. He should be grateful, but he wasn’t. “You were involved with Wren, weren’t you?” Jackson asked. Miller nodded.
“Yes. She wanted it kept a secret, but Diane figured it out. She went out of her way to make Wren’s life difficult.”
“Why?” Jackson asked.
“To clear the field for Michelle. When she couldn’t scare Wren off, she had her lease terminated.”
“Aww, it’s like that Christmas story,” Parker gushed leaning toward them. “The one with the young couple. He sells his pocket watch to buy her a hair clip, and she sells her hair to buy him a chain for his pocket watch.”
“Not at all the same,” Miller scoffed.
“Same,” Parker argued.
Croix leaned toward him, pointing a butter knife. “Man, she lost her business for you. Something she loved. What are you going to sacrifice, dumb-ass?”
