Changing Tides, page 3
“Looking for me?”
Behind her, the click of heels over the hardwood reverberated along with her father’s voice.
Turning, she watched as her father entered the room. Despite his financial woes, his commanding presence hadn’t diminished. Dressed in a dark suit, at six-foot-two, with silver hair, startling blue eyes, and a taut expression, he could intimidate even the toughest of men.
But Rachel would not be cowed.
“Why don’t I get us some coffee and something to eat,” her mother murmured and then headed into the kitchen toward the high-end espresso machine.
Rachel watched as she fumbled with the grinds and messed with the gauges and steam valve. Clearly, she was used to Marge preparing her morning beverage of choice.
Good grief, she was as helpless as Rachel. What was it about her father that liked the women in his life so helpless and passive? And why hadn’t Rachel ever noticed or cared until now?
With a sigh, Rachel faced her father, who eyed her with his sharp gaze as he took a seat at the breakfast counter, then crossed his arms over his chest.
Clearing her throat, Rachel asked, “Anything you’d like to tell me?”
His forehead creased, but he said nothing.
“Like, how you’re sorry that my car got repossessed in front of my friends? Or maybe a warning that I’d be locked out of my own home?”
A flash of surprise flitted through his eyes, then disappeared in an instant as if it never existed. Glancing down at the counter, he rubbed his forehead as a vein pulsed in his temples. “I thought I had more time. I didn’t know . . .” He trailed off and dropped his hand with a little shrug as if it was no big deal.
“Didn’t know about the car or my condo?”
“The car I suspected, but I thought we had at least another couple months on the condo. I thought I could fix things before they moved on foreclosure.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” Rachel snapped.
Fisting her hands by her side, she fought the urge to scream. Maybe this could’ve been prevented somehow had he clued her in. At the very least, she would’ve been prepared.
“I knew my car was behind on payments because they were calling me, but the condo was a surprise. Why didn’t you tell me? Give me some warning? Don’t you think you at least owed me that? Instead, I had to arrive at my place to find myself locked out. All my clothes, everything I own is inside.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right, but I thought I could fix it. I thought—”
“What exactly is going on, Dad? I think I earned the right to know, seeing as how I have no car and no place to live. Right now, I don’t even have clothes, and this is my life too. I need to come up with a plan if this is permanent.”
Permanent. The word echoed around in her skull.
She couldn’t even imagine . . .
“It’s . . . complicated.”
“No, not this time.” Rachel shook her head, her mounting anger an eleven on a scale of one to ten. “That’s what you always say when it comes to business. It’s what you’ve been saying, but that answer is no longer enough. Did you know people in town are talking about us? They think mom has a gambling habit? Gambling! Her,” she said, waving a hand in her mother’s direction. At a petite five-one with her golden hair cut into a bob, angling her face, rosebud lips, and a soft disposition, her mother looked as though she jumped out of the pages of a storybook. The only thing crazier than saying she had a gambling habit would be saying she had a drug habit.
“I’ve heard all kinds of theories,” Rachel continued as her mother’s eyes widened. “That Dad has a lover in the city and she’s blackmailing you. Or that Mom left you and is taking everything, so you have to consolidate. The best is the rumor that you gave all your money to a wacky scientist to clone yourself.”
When her father barked out a laugh, Rachel cut him with a look.
“I let them talk. I let it all go because you told me to trust you. You told me you had everything under control, and you’ve never let me down before, so I listened. But now that’s changed. I’ve lost everything while thus far, you’ve maintained a fair modicum of your posh lifestyle, so I need the truth. The whole truth.”
Her father glanced to her mother, who gripped a carafe of coffee in her hands. Apparently, sometime during Rachel’s speech, she gave up on the espresso and settled for the French press.
She nodded at her husband in a gesture Rachel assumed was the green light to share, which both simultaneously annoyed and touched her. After everything, the two of them still worked as a team.
This time, when her father met her eyes, he looked as though he aged ten years. Crow’s feet crinkled the corners of his eyes, and his forehead creased as he dropped his hands to his lap. Replacing the pillar of strength she knew was a man starting to show his age.
“The truth is I made some really poor investments with my clients’ money.”
“How poor?” Rachel asked. She may not have his business sense, but she knew enough to know that poor investments alone didn’t equate to destitution.
“First, I just lost a little. I made a bad decision on the market, and in an effort to fix it, I invested in a new up-and-coming company that was promising a new technology in the medical world. I pulled all the stock, every bit of it. I was convinced we’d see insane returns, and they’d be thanking me in the long run. But just this year, they went under and we lost everything.”
Rachel’s stomach sunk. “Okay, but—”
“Needless to say, my clients weren’t happy, so I’ve had to cut corners, liquidate a few assets to recoup some of their funds to keep them happy. Either that or I’d never make another dime again.” He steepled his hands, and Rachel could tell he was holding back.
“There’s something else,” she said matter of fact because she wanted the whole truth.
“I also got hit in the spring for back taxes.” Rachel closed her eyes. Of all the stupid . . . She ground her teeth, then asked, “How much?”
“It was over the course of a few years—”
“How. Much?”
“Two million, plus penalties.”
Rachel’s eyes flew open as she gasped. “Two—”
She couldn’t even finish the next word. The number was unbelievable, insurmountable.
First, he made a terrible business decision that cost them part of their fortune, then he was found out by the IRS. Unreal. No wonder he couldn’t afford the payments on her car or condo anymore.
Rachel braced her hands on the counter in front of her as her head spun.
How would he pull them out of this? Did he face jail time? Obviously, this wasn’t something that could be fixed in a month, let alone a year. It would take time to make the tax payments and time to rebuild his reputation and find new clients who trusted him with their money.
In the meantime, she had no income. Nothing. Based on their actions, her parents made it pretty clear she came second in terms of financial priority.
“What are you gonna do?” she croaked. What was she going to do?
“My term just ended, so there’s no need to stay here in Bayshore anymore. We’ll sell, and that’ll give us what we need for a move to Boston, plus provide some excess revenue for the taxes owed. Essentially, with the liquidations I’ve made, we should come out of the red, but it’ll be a long time to work our way back up to where we were.”
If he could work his way back up, Rachel mused.
Rachel glanced over at her mother who slid a cup of steaming coffee toward her and offered her a soft smile.
“What am I gonna do?” Rachel asked, more to herself than them. Her parents had a plan because they knew this was coming, while she’d been blindsided and wholly unprepared.
“Come with us,” her father said. “To Boston. You can make a new life for yourself.”
She flinched. Just the idea of leaving Bayshore was a slap to the face. When she’d left with Ford over the summer and he returned to Andi, he gave her the option of staying in LA with the promise to find her a job and a place to stay, but she couldn’t bear being away from her home—her friends.
“I can’t.” She glanced down at her hands.
“It would be a great opportunity,” her mother said. You could—”
“I won’t leave Bayshore.”
Her father sighed. “Rachel—”
“All of my friends are here. My life. Everything I’ve ever known. Being here is the one thing that makes me happy. I love this place, and I’m too old to be moving in with my parents. What will I do in Boston?”
“You can network with your mother and I, help us find our footing.”
“In other words, go to parties and look pretty.”
“Rachel,” Dad warned.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m a grown woman. I’m not going to move just to help bolster your reputation.”
“Then come and you can do whatever you want. You can—”
“Don’t you see? That’s why I’m in this mess. My whole life, I’ve been this accessory to make you look better. You never encouraged me to do anything different. To be better. To find my niche. And now I’m paying the price. I’m homeless, with no car and zero work skills, but I suppose you thought that didn’t matter. You always figured I’d live off our family’s money until I got married, likely to someone from the yacht club, and then I’d live off his dime. But you screwed up, Dad. And now I need to find my own way. Do something for me for a change.” Rachel slid off the barstool, gritting her teeth. “No more.”
“Rachel, honey, please sit,” her mother pleaded.
“I can’t. Sorry,” she said, not really feeling sorry at all. “I’ve been sitting down my whole life. I have to go and figure out what the heck I’m going to do now. I have to find a job, and . . . and . . . ” Rachel’s head spun. She had no clue what it meant to support herself. Suddenly, the real world felt foreign to her.
She had come this morning in the hopes the foreclosure on her condo might’ve been some sort of mistake. That maybe her father had a plan to get her home back, only to find out his plan was for her to move away with them and continue living off their dime—or the little they had left.
But she’d also wanted the truth, and she got it.
She was thirty-seven and starting over. Thirty-seven and she had no more qualifications than a high schooler looking for their first job flipping burgers.
She brought a hand up to the back of her neck, massaging the tension tightening her muscles.
“Call me if anything changes. I’ll be staying at Andi’s place figuring out what to do with my life.”
Chapter Five
Rachel raised the whiskey sour to her lips and took a sip. “I should be treating you.” Glancing at Ford, she clutched her favorite Chanel handbag to her chest. “It’s the least I can do, seeing as how you managed to get all of my clothes and other personal items.”
She sat, huddled in a dark corner booth across from Ford and Andi at the Oasis after a day spent driving around Bayshore, imagining her life in Boston, away from her hometown and her friends if she couldn’t get her act together. The thought was so depressing, she then spent an inordinate amount of time checking in with all the remaining restaurants and shops in the area to see if they were hiring. She had a moment of hope when at Waves Realty when they mentioned an administrative position, but then they asked if she knew how to work Quicken Books, to which she responded with a blank stare, and they promptly told her, no, they weren’t hiring.
Once again, her hunt for employment ended with her empty-handed.
Ford shrugged, while Andi beamed beside him—the proud fiancé. “It’s no big deal, really. As soon as I said who I was and pointed out that you were the mayor’s daughter, they were more than happy to oblige.”
“Was the mayor’s daughter,” Rachel mumbled. “His term is up, thank heavens. It’ll help keep us out of the spotlight for a bit.”
Andi offered her a sympathetic smile. “Things didn’t go well, I take it?”
“Uh, no. They didn’t go well. My dad’s broke, though he did manage to hang onto their house by the water and most of the things inside it.”
“How?” Andi asked, her tone incredulous, and Rachel couldn’t blame her. It was hard to believe. Growing up, she was the wealthy one of her friends. Money and social stature were ingrained in her as being critical elements to leading a good life, which made her situation now all the more surreal.
“Bad deals. Bad choices.” Rachel lifted a shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. The point is I’m screwed. I’ve looked everywhere along the coast that might have work that doesn’t require experience or a degree or computer skills I don’t have, and no one is hiring, at least not until April or May. They all told me to ‘check back,’” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. “A lot of good that’ll do me when my bank account is down to zero and I still don’t have a car or a place to live. Not to mention that the thought of getting a job petrifies me. I’ve never had to work a day in my life, which is ridiculous, I know, but it’s the truth, and now I’m paying the price.”
“Work for me,” Andi suggested, her mouth flattening into a thin line of determination.
“No.”
“Why not?”
This was exactly the reason Rachel had avoided discussing her problems with Andi until now. Because she’d swoop in and try to rescue her. It’s what she did. It’s the same reason Cassie went to Andi when she needed to be bailed out instead of Rachel and why Andi moved back when her mother got sick, despite her mother’s insistence she could take care of herself or hire someone.
“Because you really don’t need an assistant,” Rachel answered.
Andi opened her mouth to protest, but Rachel raised her hand to stop her. “What are you going to have me do? Make you coffee? Update your social media once a day? That would take all of thirty minutes at most, and then what? Are you going to pay me to watch paint dry? Once you have a glut of books under your belt and a large fanbase, which I’m sure you will,” Rachel added at the flash of worry crossing Andi’s face, “then you can use me. Until then, you’d be basically paying me because I’m your friend, and that, my dear, won’t fly. If there’s one thing the Beaumont’s don’t do, it’s take charity.” She used to be in the business of giving it. Which is why it was so hard for her to live with Andi at no cost and drive her car.
“But what will you do?”
It was the million-dollar question.
Rachel exhaled a long breath, thinking about her answer, then shrugged because she truly had no idea. “I don’t know. Keep at it. Beg someone until they give me a chance?”
Beg. It was a foreign concept. So instead, she’d call it persistence and an unwillingness to take no for an answer.
“The problem is because I’ve never had a job, it’s not like I have a whole lot of reasons to convince someone to take a chance on me, let alone during the off-season. It’s the worst possible time to be in this position.”
“True.” Andi chewed her lip, then brightened. “Hey, maybe someone needs a babysitter?”
Rachel’s eyes widened in horror. She knew even less about children than she did about waitressing or working retail. At least eating out and shopping were things she was familiar with, things she used to do on a regular basis. But kids? They were an anomaly.
“Uh, maybe,” she said, though she sincerely hoped there was another solution.
“Well, regardless, you can use my old car and stay with me in the meantime. It’s no big deal.”
“I appreciate that,” Rachel said, noting their clasped hands on top of the table. Staying with Andi may work for now, but come May, once they got married, she’d need her own place. That gave her four months to find a job, save some cash, and somehow find a place to live in Bayshore where the real estate wasn’t outrageous.
Hey, maybe she could room with one of those groups of college kids that came to work for the summer? She could buy them beer and drive them around for tips.
Just the thought sent her thoughts into a spiral of self-loathing.
“Well, I hate to do this to you, but I’m exhausted. I wrote all afternoon,” Andi said as she stifled a yawn. “Do you care if Ford and I bail early?”
Rachel shook her head, though she had a feeling this was really Andi’s polite way of ensuring alone time with Ford. Not that she blamed her. If Rachel had a hunky fiancé, she’d want him to herself for a while too.
“Not at all. Go.” Rachel nodded toward the door.
“You’re sure you’ll be okay?”
“I’ll be fine, Mom.” Rachel grinned. “I’ll just be sitting here, wallowing in self-pity and drowning myself in whisky sours.” She lifted her glass to make a point.
“How will you get home? Ford can follow me and I can drop the Honda off.”
Rachel waved her away. “Don’t bother. I’m at the ‘O’ on a Saturday night. I’m bound to run into someone I know. If not, Tina will drive me,” she said, motioning to the bartender, one of their classmates from high school.
“Okay, but if you can’t—”
“I’ll call.” Rachel rolled her eyes and shooed them away with a laugh. “Go. Have fun.”
Andi stood and leaned in, pulling Rachel into a bear hug, before slipping a twenty into her hand. “In case you need an Uber,” she whispered, and though her intentions were pure, Rachel’s face flamed with embarrassment.
“Andi, no—” she protested, but she’d already turned for the door, ignoring her attempt to refuse the money.
At least Ford hadn’t seen. Or, at least Rachel thought he hadn’t.
Glancing at him from the corner of her eye while he slid from the booth, she said, “Thanks again.”
“Any time, Rach. Have a good one.”
Then he turned after Andi as Rachel watched them go, feeling the slightest sting of loneliness, despite telling her it was okay to leave.
A stab of jealousy hit Rachel square in the chest. It would be nice to have someone special to lean on right now. Sure, she had her friends, but it wasn’t the same as having a partner, someone whose world revolved around yours. But Rachel hadn’t exactly chosen well throughout the years. She’d spent too much time listening to her mother’s advice on “smart choices” and someone of her stature. Her parents frowned upon dating below their socioeconomic status, which meant dating only the rich boys of Bayshore in high school, most of which were now either taken or had long since turned into rich jerks in adulthood.
