Page 7 of The Mistakes I've Made
“Of course. Is that what sold? I told my sister to buy it months ago.”
I let out a sigh. “Well, it’s too bad she didn’t. Maybe then we wouldn’t be in this shithole of a mess.”
“Why? Who did buy it?”
“Hart International.”
“Oh fuck,” Aiden said under his breath, causing his wife to turn abruptly toward him and then back to me, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Okay! Hello!” my mother said loudly at the front of the room. “We’re going to get started. I’ve been asked to lead, as the seller of the hotel in question, The Cozy Hotel, prefers to not participate.”
I bet she doesn’t, I thought to myself.Selfish bitch.I bet the old hag took all that money they’d given her and hopped the first ferry out of here.
“Hart International? Like the resorts?” Millie whispered into my ear. “What do they want with us?”
I let out a sigh as my mother began, “We’re just going to do this casual-style, so does anyone have any questions?”
A million hands shot up in the air.
“Nothing good,” I answered back. “Nothing damn good.”
“Just set the canapés down right there,” I instructed, nervously buzzing around the conference table, making sure every little detail was taken care of.
“Like this?” my coworker and best friend, Piper, asked, adjusting the large platter just so.
I surveyed the lunch spread, feeling pretty proud of myself.
“Yes.” I nodded. “I think that’s perfect.”
We both stepped back to appreciate our hard work. I’d planned this menu weeks ago, ordering food from my father’s favorite restaurants—the main course from a little place he’d loved to take me and my mother to when I was little, which was famous for their authentic Polynesian fare, and then dessert was straight-up Italian, like his Nonna used to make.
“You do realize that there is enough food here to feed the entire floor, right?” Piper joked. Her hand reached toward the perfect Italian desserts I’d plated on delicate china I’d brought from my own apartment.
“Don’t you dare,” I said, slapping it away. “And, yes, I realize that, but this is special. It’s not every day that my father comes home, and I want to make it special.”
“You mean you want to woo him with your superior skills so that he’ll finally promote you.”
I defensively folded my arms across my chest, the polka-dot blouse I’d chosen just for this occasion wrinkling beneath my tight embrace. “Would it kill him? I mean, would it really?”
“He doesn’t show favoritism, that’s for sure. That man is making you earn your keep.”
“No! He’s making me work ten times harder; that’s what he’s doing. Do you know Becky Knowles?”
Piper’s blonde eyebrows rose, but she went with it. She was used to my abrupt change of topics. We’d been friends since college, both attending the University of Hawaii, here in Honolulu. We’d become fast friends one night at a freshman mixer when I, who was well on my way to blending perfectly into the wall, overheard her discussing Hogwarts houses with a guy so desperate to get in her pants, he was willing to try to play along.
His deadly mistake? Saying he’d laughed when that “old dude died.”
I’d stepped in before she committed murder or tried to off him with an unforgivable curse.
The fact that she, too, was majoring in interior design had just sealed the deal.
We’d been inseparable ever since.
“Of course I know Becky Knowles. Although I’m not sure she goes by Becky anymore. Not since college.”
I let out an annoyed huff.
“Okay, okay,” she said, holding out her hands in defeat. “Yes, I know Becky. What about her?”
