Page 8 of Blindly Yours

AWP manages the finances of the wealthiest families in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area. I spend my days calculating the values of luxury yachts and multi-million-dollar homes in the richest neighborhoods. I advise aging lawyers, doctors, and business executives on how to smartly invest their life savings and set it all up to be passed onto the next generation.

Oftentimes, they look at me with a raised eyebrow, wondering if they should trust someone barely out of college with such big decisions, but the truth is, if they give me a chance, I can almost always prove to them that I have what it takes. The finance bug bit me early, thanks to my mother, and I love my job more than most people do.

The thing is, you can ask anyone what means the most to them in life, and they’re going to respond with “family.” But if you ask the same person what makes them feel safe and secure, most of them will put money on that list. And if their family is the most important thing to them, they’re going to want to keep those people safe. So, I help them put their wealth in the right places so they can pass it on to their loved ones and make sure they feel secure too.

For the portion of the population who puts in so much hard work to earn what they do, I find it especially rewarding to see that look of peace in their eyes when they know their nest egg is safe. Passion for my career is something I certainly don’t lack, and for that, I’m thankful for my family heritage.

A figure in my doorway catches my attention and I look up, expecting the frail old man to be there, but my smile is replaced with a shallow sigh. “Hi, Mom.”

“You saw Malcolm last night?” She steps in and crosses the room until the front of her pencil skirt brushes the edge of my desk.

“How did you know that?” I divert my attention to the numbers on my computer screen.

“And?” she urges.

I drop my shoulders. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. Malcolm and I are over, and that’s not going to change.”

“Yes, but he’s such a nice boy…” She sinks down into the chair where Junie had just been.

“No, he’s arichboy. There’s a difference.” I stare at her.

I’m met with a disapproving glare. She adjusts her thick silver bracelets as they clank lightly together. “Don’t pretend that’s not important to you too. I went to lunch with his mother just last week. She’s such a sweet woman, and she’s raised a lovely son. Just picture it, an Astor and a Carnegie together. We were so excited.” She gazes into the distance as she imagines the apparently perfect union. “It would be wonderful for the family line.”

I tap my pen on the desk and straighten the already perfectly aligned folders. “Mom, he slept with his secretary. Then he asked me to marry him, and as soon as I said no, he told me he didn’t want me anyway. Is that who you want your daughter to spend the rest of her life with?”

She sits forward in her chair with a heartfelt frown. “I know, dear. And truly, I am sorry he hurt you. But he has apologized profusely, and we all make mistakes. He didn’t mean those words either. He was hurt by your rejection and had a snap response. He’s been so good to you otherwise.”

I massage my forehead with my finger and thumb. “Wasgood to me. Past tense. But it only lasted so long.” The truth is, he was good to me until three months into our relationship when he did the deed with his busty assistant. Actually, no. Things changed before that, and I’m starting to realize I can pinpoint the change right back to the morning after I slept with him. As soon as he got what he wanted from me.

“Maybe if you just sat down with him, you could talk things out,” she suggests with a hopeful twinkle in her eye.

“Or maybe I move on to someone I actually want to date.” When she frowns, I add, “Junie told me about a new dating app for elite singles.” I meet her gaze intentionally. “I get it, Mom. I’m not gonna run off with some midwestern hick and leave the family business. You’ve worked hard for all this. I’m going to meet someone who’ll fit the mold.”

She taps her foot. “I just wish you’d give Malcolm another chance.”

I start to hang my head just as a new figure appears in the doorway. “Mr. Lancaster!” I stand up and quickly smooth my blouse.

My mother shoots up from her chair and spins around, plastering a professional smile on her face as she shakes his weathered hand. “Mr. Lancaster, it’s a pleasure to see you again. How are you holding up?”

He smiles gently and releases her hand as he shuffles past her, perfectly polished chestnut cane in hand. “I’m gettin’ on. But it’s high time I get to meeting with this young lady.” He lowers himself slowly into the again-empty chair across from me.

“Of course,” my mother nods and backs her way out of the room. “You’re in good hands with Rose. It was lovely to see you.” She gives me a small smile as she shuts the door and disappears into the hall.

I reach out and take his heavily wrinkled hand in my youthful one. “Glad you could stop by. How are Sarah, Cade, and Louisa these days?” I pull his grandchildren’s names skillfully from my memory. “Did Cade hit any home runs this season?”

His tired face lights up.

***

Four clients, three cups of coffee, and a twelve-dollar grain-free bagel later, I finally have a moment to breathe. I recline in my desk chair and slide my phone from my purse, prepared to finally install Bloom and get my mother and Junie off my back.

I start to search for the app, but at the same moment, a single wet splat lands on top of my head. Confused, I lift my gaze and furrow my brow. Then I squint upward just in time for another drop to fall between my eyes.

“Ugh.” I roll my chair backward and wipe my skin as I glare at the ceiling. A dark, damp spot the size of a dinner plate is forming.

I grab the stack of files from my desk so that they won’t get dripped on and start to pick up my phone to dial maintenance. But that’s when I hear the crack. It happens so fast, and I back away just in time for a steady stream of water to come tumbling down onto my desk, the floor, and my Louboutin heels.

“Argh!” I jump up and back away from the mess, shaking my feet in an attempt to save my shoes from a watery fate.

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