Page 15 of My Totally Unfair Deal

As I’m writing the note that should go with it, I overhear my brother talking in our main office.

“Harrison, my sister doesn’t know anyone who could murder you.” He laughs. “There’s no way you’re this high already…”

I step closer to the door, straining to hear why he’s talking about me. Peering through the crack, I see Jackson leaning back in the chair—looking just like our father once did.

“You’re overthinking this, which is not really like you,” Jackson laughs. “You’re just coaching her… Okay, you’re definitely high. Call me back when you’re not.”

He slams the phone onto the receiver and I push the door open.

“What sport is your friend supposed to be coaching me in?” I ask. “I was kidding about wanting tennis lessons for Christmas.”

“Why the hell were you eavesdropping?”

“I wasn’t, until I heard you talking about me.” I cross my arms. “Is this about tennis?”

“No, Eliza, it’s…” He sighs and stands up, walking over to me. “We can’t afford not to land some deals at the conference this year, so I’ve asked Harrison to coach you to make sure of it.”

“What?” I feel like he’s slapped me in the face.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“Maybe,” I say. “Say it a bit slower, so maybe you’ll hear how it doesn’t make any sense.”

“I asked him to host you at his place in New York, starting this week until the event,” he says. “That way, you’ll be fully immersed in the world and can knock every presentation and meeting out of the park.”

I say nothing.

“I know he’s more city-guy than you like, but you’ll learn a lot from him, and he’s totally up for taking you with him. How does this all sound?”

“Like human trafficking.”

“Be fucking for real, Eliza.”

“Were you planning toask meif I was okay with this idea?”

“No.” His voice is firm. “But I was planning to tell you about my decision over breakfast.”

“Yourdecision…”

“Yes. It’smyfarm.Mydecision.”

Another slap in the face.

He never misses a chance to cut me when it comes to who actually owns this farm—who our parents left 100 percent of it to.

In the will, he’s listed as the “owner,” and my name is under “operator.” We both know they just put the latter there to make me feel better about not having a true stake. They always thought he was far more responsible and less of a “hothead” than me.

Hell, they even put our other brother, Lance—the sibling who abandoned us when we needed him most—as the “secondary owner” over me in case this place ever falls to shit.

“You honestly think I can’t handle going to a stupid convention on my own, Jackson?” I glare at him. “So much so that you think I need charm school lessons from your asshole friend?”

“You don’t even know him, Eliza.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way.” My heart aches. “I don’t need coaching. I know farming like the air I breathe, and we’re not that desperate for deals. This place runs perfectly fine now, but good to know how much you value my work here.”

“Eliza, look.” He narrows his eyes, pinning me to the spot in the way only he can. “I have all the faith in the world in you, but ‘insanity’ is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Even the big farm resorts have a public relations specialist, and those are the people who bring in all the deals.”

“So instead of hiring one of those—like a logical person, like I told you to months ago—you hire your friend to ‘charm’ me instead?”

---