Page 74 of Wedding Season
“I think you’ve forfeited your right to give me advice, business or otherwise.”
“Be that as it may, I’m giving it anyway. My tenacity is one of the things you love best about me.”
He shook his head. “Right now, there isn’t anything I love best about you. I’m sorry,” he said almost immediately. “I’m frustrated. I thought you and I were a team.”
Luann walked toward him where he’d taken a stand in front of his desk so he wouldn’t have to look at her resignation letter or the guilt pastries. She reached out a hand to pat his cheek much like a mother would.
Not his mother specifically, but he could imagine it happening in other families.
“You’re a sweet young man,” she told him. “But too kind for your own good. It’s okay to be mad, Alex. Your feelings are valid.”
“I know that,” he mumbled although the way his stomach clenched told a different story. He hadn’t been allowed to express his feelings for most of his life—not the difficult ones anyway.
He suspected it came from being left with a single mom who was emotionally fragile after being humiliated and discarded by his father. When she’d met his stepdad and remarried, Alex had gotten the clear impression that he was extra baggage along for the ride. And the ride was a lot smoother when he wasn’t making waves.
He hadn’t realized until this moment how often he shut down his feelings to make the people around him happy or more comfortable or because it was easier.
With Amber, it had been simple enough to convince himself that, as the artist, she was more entitled to displays of emotion than him. His role was as her steady rock, and he took it seriously. Fat lot of good that had done him.
“Then you should know I’m pissed as hell.” He stepped away from Luann’s touch. “You’ve put everything we worked for—I worked for—in jeopardy. The media is going to have a field day with this kind of organizational change.”
Luann glanced toward the window as if drawing courage from the bright morning then back to him again. “Not if we manage to convince Mariella to step in. It’s not too late.”
He didn’t argue because what was the point? It was tempting to invite Mariella to join the company. Her talent was undeniable and the thought of working with her on a daily basis held a strange appeal.
Without a creative director on the eve of launching their first collection, things could fizzle out before they even got started. So what if the early reviews had been great? Would retailers and the general public get behind the brand if they didn’t think it had staying power?
There had been enough bad press to overcome due to Luann’s personal history, and people might be happy to see the Fit Collective fail rather than succeed. His stepfather would be among the former group.
“I’ll call her and...” Luann began, but he shook his head.
“Go,” he told her, plucking the letter of resignation from the desk. “We’re not your problem anymore.”
“I still want to support you.” She sounded as apologetic and sincere as he’d ever heard.
Now that Alex had loosened the reins on his feelings, he had no desire to pull them back again. “I don’t want or need your help.”
She frowned. “I’m still your financial partner.”
“Go to Nebraska and be a grandma or whatever it is you decide to do next. I’ll talk to the board to come up with a plan to buy you out.”
“Now you’re talking like a real businessman,” she said with a huff of laughter. “I’m not sure I like it.”
“Like it or not, this is what your actions have brought us to. This is the me who’s here now.”
She studied him for a long moment. “I’m sorry, Alex. I wish you nothing but the best. You deserve it.”
He stepped behind his desk and sat in the plush leather chair, wondering if he agreed with her. In his world, the ones who got their way were people like Luann and his stepfather. They took what they wanted even if their choices hurt other people.
Was that what he had to do? He thought about Amber coming to town and Mariella insisting they keep their relationship a secret. Everyone around him was looking after themselves.
Alex wondered if the adage was true in this case. If he couldn’t beat them, maybe his best choice was to join them.
MARIELLACAUGHTSIGHTof a flash of pale blond hair early Saturday morning as she jogged past downtown’s central grassy park.
She checked her watch then glanced up at the robin’s-egg-blue sky like the cloudless swath of color might offer an answer to her silent question.
The bride getting married today at the Wildflower Inn had singular pale blond hair. She was an ethereal beauty with big green eyes and a penchant for sighing when overwhelmed. She would have made a lovely sister to one of Jane Austen’s heroines.
