Page 64 of That Stranded Feeling
And not a good one. He wasn’t supposed to be here for several more hours. Elliot and I haven’t had a chance to do a dry run of the presentation. We sure as hell aren’t ready to pitch to him right now.
I hold out my hand as a subtle sign it’s time for him to shake it and leave. “Look forward to seeing you at the party later, when we all have time for a proper talk about our potential future together.”
“Yes, must dash,” Archie says. “Only had a minute. But, as I was passing, thought we could get the introductions out of the way.”
He grips my hand and crushes it. One of the many things I’ve learned in business is that men who try to exert their dominance with a bone-breaking handshake almost always turn out to be unpleasant company.
But if this guy invested, it would change our business, our lives, and the futures of underprivileged kids, who’d get hands-on experience with tech that could set them up for life. I owe it to Elliot and all the work he’s put in to build the business with me, and to the kids who are just like I was, to try to make it work with Archie.
“Look forward to your presentation,” he says. “I hope you’re going to dazzle me.”
As he releases my hand, he slaps my upper arm with such gusto I have to step sideways to keep my balance. I’ll check for a bruise later.
“I’ll head back to the hotel tofreshen upwith the little lady.” He winks. “If you know what I mean.”
He nudges Elliot, who responds with a smile that’s somewhere between uncomfortable and disgusted.
I pull open the front door to encourage Archie on his way, and find a chauffeur-driven Bentley at the bottom of the steps, engine purring. The driver is in full uniform, hat and all. Archie lives most of his life behind closed doors, so I’m not sure who these affectations are designed to impress. Maybe he enjoys showing off to himself.
“See you later, boys.” He stops by the side of the car and waits for the driver to get out, walk around, and open the door for him.
I close the front door and blow out a giant breath.
Elliot takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. “I’m more nauseated than when Mom tried to get me to eat cottage cheese when I was four.”
I shake my head. “Lord, help that man’s poor woman.”
“I expected him to be a bit insufferable.” Elliot replaces his glasses. “But I didn’t expect him to be one-hundred-percent loathsome.”
“Caught me completely off guard to see you with him when I walked in. I wasn’t ready for that at all.” And those words could not be more of an understatement. “Nice idea to take him outside and distract him with the grill.”
“Yeah, sorry. When he called to say he was at the gate and wanted to drop in for a quick hello before this evening, there wasn’t a way for me to say no. Or time to warn you.”
“Well, at least we know what we’re dealing with now. And we only have to put up with him for two or three hours. I’ll charm him, we’ll get his investment, and hopefully go back to dealing with his team instead.”
Elliot pushes his hands into his pockets and leans back against the wall. “As long as his investment doesn’t give him a say in how we do things.”
“I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.” At least I hope I will.
Our concern is shattered by Summer, Maggie, and Elsa emerging from the kitchen.
Summer cranes her neck to look at the back of Maggie’s hairdo. “Well, I can’t tell you how awful I feel. I’m such a klutz.”
“You are a worrier. Entirely unnecessary. Complete accident. No harm done.” Maggie gives Summer a reassuring pat on the arm, then spots Elliot. “Elliot Dashwood, off the wall. The painters worked hard and did an excellent job, let’s keep it nice.”
He gives his mom a good-humored smile, and stands up straight.
I place my hand in the small of Summer’s back. It pains me to imagine how mortified she must be by what happened. “So, are you guys okay? No broken bones? All hair back in place?”
Summer gives me a thin smile and nods. “I’ve tried my best. But even my best hairdressing skills aren’t great.”
All I want to do is wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to me, in an effort to calm the worry I’m certain is simmering away inside her. But I satisfy myself with the way the curve of her back rests against my palm instead. “Summer, this is Elliot. My cousin and business partner.”
“And my youngest and most studious son,” Maggie adds.
Summer and Elliot shake hands and say their nice-to-meet-yous.
Elliot turns to his mom. “You know you have a bit of a red mark on your temple?” He taps the side of his own head to indicate its location.
