What's Yours is Mine (15 page)

Someone Will had all but threatened yesterday. This was apparently his response. “Stan Golden.”
 

Tim looked away, answer enough. Next question: had Darcy put Stan up to it?

Darcy set the banana down on the counter. “Why would he do that?” She sounded sincere. Was she?
 

“I have no idea. Ask him. Listen, I really do have to go now. I’m running late.” Tim glanced at Will. “Think it over. You can find another promising site, start over. I’ll help you work through the permits.”

“It’s not enough money for that. You know the price of land parcels around here.”

“I also know this is a generous offer, and that the situation as it stands is untenable. If you two don’t resolve it in the next forty-eight hours, I’ll be forced to take action. Take the deal, Will. For your own sake.” On that ominous note, Tim headed out the door.
 

Will turned, ready to confront Darcy. Find out if she’d gone to his ex-boss. If she’d made things that much worse. He’d be damned if he’d take a bribe from Stan or from Darcy through Stan. He’d be damned if he’d accept that dirty triclosate-tainted money. He wanted to storm at her, to slam his fist into furniture and watch her eyes widen.
 

He wanted to do whatever it took to erase this morning’s elusive, false moment of comfort from his memory. To make it so it had never happened. He’d never let his guard down, never let himself feel something for her.

But Darcy had disappeared.
 

How far could she have gone?

~*~

Darcy sat on a rock facing the cove. The water was gray today, and choppy. She felt far removed from her troubles. More to the point, she was out of earshot from the condo, giving her much-needed privacy for this phone call. Before making her way down the cliff path, she’d jimmied the back sliding door so it would stay unlocked, just in case Will decided to shut her out. He’d looked mad enough.
 

He was wrong to be. Stan was looking out for her, that was all. It was a paternal thing to do, but he
was
her godfather. What was wrong with a little old-fashioned bribery, anyway? Will was an uptight, overly moral prig. She’d been delusional when she thought they could come to any kind of understanding.
 

And yet…
 

And yet something in her wanted him to approve of her. Dammit.
 

She dialed, waited. Someone unfamiliar answered the phone.
 

“Is Stan there?”

“He’s in a meeting.”

Darcy blinked, disconcerted. Sure, Stan had meetings. Plenty of meetings. The man was all about gathering input and building consensus. He called it an organic process to an organic product. But Stan hiring someone to answer his personal phone? A stranger? It felt awfully formal. “Tell him it’s Darcy. I’m— I work there. I don’t think I’ve met you.”

“Josiah. His grandson. I’m filling in for a few days until he finds an assistant who groks him, he says.”

Darcy blinked again. Stan’s grandson was old enough to answer phones? The last time she’d seen him must have been her junior year of college.
 
He’d been about five or six years old, gleeful at getting a bike for Christmas. She’d spent that winter break with Stan’s extended family after the General said he didn’t have any free time and she should go to her godfather’s out in California instead. Stan and Marge had welcomed her with crushing bear hugs and a pile of presents. She’d felt like part of their huge, crazy clan. A memorable holiday. “Stan needs an assistant?”

“He’s getting older, y’know? He doesn’t want to admit it, but there it is. We all told him to ease off. My mom’s worried about him. Grandma too. He seems so stressed lately, y’know? But hey, I’ll tell him you called, ’kay?”

“Uh, okay.”
 

She hung up, cradling her phone thoughtfully and looking out at the water crashing over the sandy beach, enveloping the gnarled roots of a cypress with every surge.
 

Life was moving forward without her. She’d been living out of suitcases while Stan’s grandchildren grew up and he got old.
 

She dialed again.

Her mother answered, sounding sleepy. “Hello? Oh hi, dear. Your father is out back. Let me get him.”

“I’d like to talk to you as well, Mom. How are you doing?”
 

“Oh, me? Well, you know. A little tired. Still getting over the surgery.”

Darcy tensed. “Surgery?”

“Yes, for my pacemaker.”

“Your…”
 

“I thought I told you. Or your father did. Didn’t he? Anyway, he’s out back, I’ll go get him.”

This time, Darcy let her. When had she and her mother drifted so far apart? She hugged herself, feeling a chill from the wind coming off the water. A chill she hadn’t noticed before.
 

The General got on, sounding gruff. “Evict him yet?”

“Uh…”

“Why didn’t you tell me who it was?”

She scuffed the rock’s surface with her toe. It felt bumpy under her bare foot. “Because you didn’t ask. Because it was irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant my ass. It turns this battle of yours from a border skirmish into a moral imperative.”

“How did you find out, anyway? Have you been talking to Stan?”

“If you’re not going to be up-front with me, I have to do my reconnaissance somehow. Why isn’t the man gone? I thought you were a better campaigner than this. When you set your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.”

“Thanks, Dad. But it’s more delicate than you’d think. On paper, Will has as much right to this place as I do. I can’t just give him the heave-ho and—”

“Did that wimpy developer come by yet?”

“Tim?” Darcy was instantly wary. “Don’t tell me you put him up to it. Dad. You don’t have that kind of money. It would bankrupt you.”

“Of course, I didn’t.”

She stood up, dusting off her rump, and started back toward the path leading up to the condo complex. “So it was Stan.”

“We talked, that’s all. I may have made a suggestion or two. So what did he say, your man Dougherty? Is he packing his bags?”

She glanced up toward her condo. She could see Will at the dining table, probably on his computer. “I don’t get that impression, no.”

“We’ll just have to up the ante, won’t we?”

Darcy stopped along the path, yanking a fuzzy yellow flower out of the ground. When she held it to her nose, it smelled like damp earth. “What if we don’t? What if we let this play out?”

Her father made a huffing noise through the phone line. “Darcy? Do you
like
living with him? Is there something going on here you need to tell me about?”

“Of course not. He’s still the man who nearly cost me my job with that outrageous stunt he pulled.” Which he might have done in retaliation for a crime he’d thought she’d committed. Acting in anger, not greed.
 

Who was to blame here? It made her head hurt to contemplate.
 

“All right, then. How do we get him out? Tell me about the man. What he does for a living. Who he loves. His favorite sports team. Everything. Knowledge is power.” Her father sounded hyped up. He lived for this.
 

She sighed. This was the right thing to do, even if it felt wrong. They couldn’t live in this stasis forever, sharing a one-bedroom condo when they didn’t like or even trust each other, with no privacy, no walls between them, just a stupid rolled-up blanket that fell on the floor. She crushed the bright yellow flower in her hand, opening it to let the bits swirl to the ground.

Chapter Twelve

As she got off the phone, Darcy realized she’d forgotten to ask her father about her mother’s pacemaker. She caressed the phone with her thumb and slipped it into her pocket, starting back up the slope toward the condo complex. When this was all over, she’d have to carve out some time for a personal trip. She owed her parents a visit. Especially her mother.
 

Getting closer, she could hear the murmur of a male voice. Will’s voice. Another step and she could see him pacing along the edge of the deck, talking into his cell phone. For a moment, she wondered if her father’s new plan had already gone into effect, but no, it couldn’t happen that fast. And as she got closer, she parsed his words and attitude. Not
the
phone call. Not even close.
 

“Yes, she’s still here. I know. I should. I will. I haven’t sorted out how yet, but I will.” He sounded irritable. Talking about her, no doubt, and how to extract her from the condo.
 

It was wrong to eavesdrop, but she paused on the path nevertheless. Best if she didn’t walk in on this particular conversation.
 

“Is that what you called about? Because you don’t need to, trust me. I’ll tell you when I’ve gotten rid of her. I’ll have a party and invite the whole complex over.”

Ouch.

“Right, anyway, what’s up? Talk to me, sis.” He moved toward the patio table, and his head disappeared as the sound of the chair scraping across wood echoed down toward where she stood. “Fuck, no. They can’t do that without warning. They have to give you three months, minimum. They did? You didn’t tell me!” His normally soft, deep voice had a harsh edge. “Give me the loan officer’s name, I’ll call him now. I’m sure we can work out a timetable.” Breath whistled between his teeth.
 

So his sister was in trouble. That seemed like her natural state. Darcy shouldn’t feel sorry for her. As her father was fond of telling her, the world belonged to the winners, the go-getters. And Sheila…wasn’t.
 

Those kids were awfully cute, though. And Sheila seemed kind of defenseless. Hostile, sure, but defenseless. And she really needed a job.
 

Oh, hell.
 

Darcy walked up the path and saw Will’s mouth tighten, like he’d tasted something sour that packed an unexpected punch, a lemon with a vodka finish. From the sight of her?
 

She smiled, tight. She wasn’t going to let him get to her.
 

He frowned and turned away. “Listen, Sheil. I’ll look into it and call you back. I have to go.” He hung up and turned back toward her. “How much did you hear?”

Darcy perched on the porch rail. “Um, everything? Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“And yet somehow you did. And you would, wouldn’t you? Bribe, eavesdrop, add toxic chemicals to an organic soap.”

Darcy slammed her fist down on the metal rail. It hurt. “Dammit, won’t you ever let that go? I didn’t do it! And it was four years ago! If it did happen at all and you’re not making it up. But tell me how you were hurt. Really, tell me! Your life looks pretty sweet from where I’m standing!”

Will stared at her. “Darcy. Calm down. I didn’t say anything.”

“You did. You just did. You think I’d do anything to get my way. You think I’m immoral and manipulative and God knows what else. I’m a damned good businesswoman, and I always do right by the people I work with, but you can’t ever admit that or your whole stack of justifications would collapse in a heap. You’d judge me for breathing the wrong way if you could. You’re just upset because you can’t control this situation the way you control everything else around you.”

He seemed to gather himself in. “Fine. You’re right. Or not. Whatever. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” His voice was alarmingly flat, as if all the emotion had drained out of him.
 

Then he had the temerity to turn away and go into the house, leaving Darcy with a mad-on and no justification to explode. Like shooting a moving target, her arrows flying wildly off course. She almost regretted the scheme her father had concocted. It was too good for Will Holds-a-Grudge-Forever Dougherty.

~*~

Will sat on the bed, his legs crossed in the lotus position. Palms up, resting on his knees. Eyes closed. Breathing, letting the soothing music flow over him.
 

With some persuading, the loan officer had agreed to a one-week extension before beginning foreclosure proceedings. It never would have happened if Sheila’s asshole—no, not asshole, misguided—
breathe slowly, clear your head
—Sheila’s ex-husband hadn’t decided now was the right time to take his name off the house title. Which necessitated a new mortgage. Which triggered a foreclosure, because Sheila’s credit was in the toilet, thanks to the aforementioned misguided asshole.
 

Breathe deep. Breathe slow. Clear your head. Thoughts float by, let them go.

If he accepted Stan Golden’s payoff and left his beautiful new home behind, he’d have plenty of money.
 

He would move in with Sheila, cosign the mortgage. Pay off her debts. Abandon his own life.
 

It felt like another failure.
 

Like walking off the Golden Organics job, destroying that career path in one temper tantrum of a final act. He’d picked up yoga and meditation in the dark months after that debacle.
 

Three years before that, he’d left Kramer Construction in a huff after discovering his boss was in league with the local politicos, pocketing the money meant for low-income housing. He’d punched Jeff Kramer in the mouth. It felt good but also horrible. He’d enrolled in anger management training two days later. That helped more.
 

Nine years before that, his mother had left. Nothing helped then.
 

Breathe deep. Breathe slow. Let the music fill you. Let the light fill you. No thoughts, just breath.
 

Just as he got to a momentary lull in his racing thoughts, just when he found a space of clarity and a sliver of quiet in his brain, the bedroom door swung open.
 

Will opened his eyes.
 

Darcy stood in the doorway, peeking in. She was fretfully chewing her bottom lip. “I didn’t know you were, um, busy. I’ll come back later.”

He closed his eyes again.

“It’s just that—”
 

He opened his eyes.
 

Darcy was still there. Still chewing her lip. Balancing on one leg now.