Chapter Eleven
Josh
"Why on Earth would you spend so much time at the Sommers office when you could be here?"
I smiled as I watched Cristina look around the office. Positioned at the top of the building, the office was spacious and airy, two walls entirely made of windows.
"You like it?" I asked.
"It's gorgeous."
"Thank you. I wish that I could be here more."
"Why aren't you?"
I shrugged.
"The Sommers business is technically bigger even though mine is older and comparably as financially successful, if not more successful at times. It also makes more sense for the three of them to stay where they are and me to go to them rather than them come here."
"I don't think that's fair," she said. "They aren't taking over your business or dissolving your holdings and creating one entity under their name. You are discussing a merger under which both store models will continue to operate as individual stores in addition to the blended concept stores. You shouldn't be treated like a less-important aspect of the relationship."
I was stunned and stared at her, not knowing what to say.
"Wow."
Smooth.
"I can do my research, I know what I'm talking about."
"Do you really?"
She stared at me defiantly for a few moments, then shook her head.
"No. I'm not even sure that I said all of the right words."
I laughed at her candor and nodded.
"Actually, you did pretty well. You summed it up."
"Can I ask you a question?"
I felt my heart sink slightly. I didn't want her to start asking questions about Willa again. We had spent such a fun night together and the last thing that I needed was to have to think about her or the reality that I was going to have to go back to when this was all over.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Why are you going through all of this?"
Well, that wasn't what I expected.
"What do you mean?"
"You own this business, right? Just you? You don't have a whole bunch of stockholders or anything?"
"No, I don't have any stockholders. It's privately owned. Always has been."
"Alright. When I was doing all that research, I read a thing about hostile takeovers and I realized that when you were talking about this whole thing with the Sommers family, it didn't sound like that was what was going on."
"You're right. It's not a hostile takeover."
"Then why? Because, and I hope you don't mind me saying this, I hope it doesn't overstep my bounds or anything, but it doesn't seem like you are too happy about everything that's going on."
"You don't have to think about bounds with me," I told her clearly, wanting to make sure that she heard and understood each word that I said. "But I guess you're right. I'm not terribly happy about all of this, but I know it's the right thing to do."
We had borrowed one of the mail hoppers to unload the car and Cristina had started to unload the bags from it, lining them up along the floor in different piles according to what was inside. Her ponytail and all black outfit complete with combat boots made her look like an adorable tiny SWAT member, but the concern in her eyes took away some of the cuteness. I saw emotion and concern there that I wasn't accustomed to seeing anywhere else and I felt the pull toward her increase sharply.
"Why? Why do you know it's the right thing to do?"
"My father and Wilton were very close friends. They met when they were children and their fathers were running the businesses. Ever since they took over their respective chains, they talked about how amazing it would be if the businesses combined and made one enormous retail giant. It would provide opportunity for greater power and growth than either would be able to accomplish on their own, and it would allow the families to stay close. Ever since I was a child, I knew that that was the eventual intention, though they had never taken steps to start bringing the companies together formally. For years we had been loosely working together to create sales and product lines to make sure that our competition was healthy and beneficial for both. Then they started putting more official plans into place to start bringing the companies together. When my parents died, everything fell to me. Suddenly the business was mine. The legacy was mine. But I knew that I was just carrying on what my father wanted and had worked so hard for. It's my responsibility to fulfill that for him, to make sure that I can accomplish what he didn't have the chance to for himself."
"But you wish that you didn't have to," she said.
It wasn't a question, but a statement, as if she could look inside of me and know exactly what I was thinking.
"I know how hard my father and grandfather and great-grandfather worked to build the business. I also know that my father thought that so much more could come from the two businesses combining. But I really don't like the thought of the company not fully belonging to my family anymore. No matter how well I get along with Wilton, eventually he's not going to be the one who is in control of the business. Even if he was, I don't want to think about someone else having any type of control over the work that my family did. I've watched the ways that they've changed and the steps that they are starting to take. For now, I have the option of not going along with anything that I don't agree with, though I admit that I haven't always done it. When the companies merge, though, I won't have that option. I'll have to fight for everything and just accept when they change things even if I don't want them to."
There was more. I knew there was more. I didn't want to marry Willa. I didn't want to align myself in that way with the Sommers. I didn't want to hand over my future and my life to someone who I only just tolerated, especially when I was starting to feel something that I never thought that I would.
But I couldn't say any of that to her. I couldn't look into her eyes and tell her what I thought and felt every time that I looked at her -- at least what I thought that I was thinking and feeling.
Tension had built in the room and I hoped that the levity that we had found together hadn't been ruined.
"What time is it?" she asked.
It wasn't the response that I would have expected from her after what I had said, but I was relieved and grateful that she had let that conversation drop. I looked at my watch.
"Almost four."
I was surprised that it was that late. I didn't feel at all tired.
"That should work out."
"What do you mean?"
"We should be able to fit in at least one movie while we wrap before my mother wakes up and calls the police to report me missing."
She said it completely casually as she reached for the laptop sitting in the middle of the desk and opened it.
"Wouldn't your sisters tell her where you are?"
"She won't care," she said. "Can you put in your password?"
"It's Persephone. What do you mean she won't care?"
"Persephone? She'll just think that they are being too casual and that I've been abducted or fell off a cliff or something, so she'll call the police frantically."
"Greek mythology. She's the queen of the underworld. Doesn't it bother you that she's going to call the police?"
"That's a little morbid." She typed the name into the computer. "Not really. She does it fairly frequently."
"It was also my mother's name. What do you mean she does it frequently? Isn't that a crime?"
"You probably should have led with that. Yes, she did it enough times that one of the detectives gave her his personal number so that the next time she did it she wouldn't be arrested."
A window popped up on the screen and one of my favorite Christmas movies started. I grinned.
"You like this movie?" I asked.
Cristina looked at me incredulously.
"Of course. Who doesn't?"
Willa.
"So, what do we do first?"
I looked around at the fairly overwhelming assortment of items that were now spread across the floor.
"How about a little show and tell? Show me what you picked out."
I had forgotten that she didn't see everything that I picked out and I felt a little surge of excitement. Dragging all of the bags with my purchases in them over to one spot on the floor, I started taking them out individually, displaying them and trying to remember which of the people she had shouted at me coordinated with each of the items.
"You bought an infant a diecast car advent calendar?" she asked several minutes later when I had reached the last item.
"It's never too early to start appreciating cars," I told her.
"Well, I'm sure that Ella-Lucia will love them."
"Oh. Damn. I thought you said Elliot."
Cristina laughed and reached for the bags that I had filled again with my purchases.
"I'll just inscribe the card with a declaration of gender equality and encouraging her to explore all aspects of herself and the world around her."
"That's pretty impressive," I said, "but what do you mean you'll inscribe the card with that?"
She looked at me strangely.
"I always put personalized cards on my gifts."
"Your gifts?" A sudden realization dawned on me. "Those were real people?" I asked.
"Of course," Cristina said. "Oh. That reminds me." She reached down the neck of her shirt and pulled out a handful of cash. She counted some out and handed it to me. "Thank you."
I looked down at the money in my hand.
"I thought you made those people up."
"Why would I do that?"
"I am starting to think that I don't know why you do anything."
Cristina laughed and reached for a roll of paper.
"You saved me a lot of time in that store."
"Did you get everything that you were after?"
Her eyes dropped, and I saw her smile waver slightly.
"Um," she started. "I did pretty well, I guess. I think I got just about everything that I was looking for."
"Just about?" I asked, knowing that she wasn't really telling me the truth.
Cristina looked up at me and gave a smile that I know she thought looked breezy and carefree, but I could see the stress behind her eyes.
"There was this one particular video game that Matteo wanted," she admitted. "Like I said, he's getting bigger and so it's not as simple as just piling some toys up under the tree. He picked this game out weeks ago and I saw that it was part of the Black Friday sale, so I was hoping I'd be able to snag one. Your store only had two, though, so I missed it."
My heart clenched, and I felt my mouth go dry. The conversation that the Sommers and I had weeks ago about the doorbusters seared into my mind and I remembered the way that I had felt when Willa talked about luring in the customers with the super-limited deep discounts. I hadn't removed it from the sale and now I was seeing exactly what I had thought about unfolding in front of me.
"I'm sorry," I said.
She shook her head, smiling again.
"It's fine," she said. "I think he knew that it was kind of a long shot. He's gotten used to that. It's not like he's not going to get anything." She paused and seemed to take a moment to regain control of her emotions. "It's just that he's been working so hard this year. He's already thinking about college and he's determined to get a scholarship, so he's been pushing himself so hard at school and doing all kinds of volunteer work and community service to start padding his applications. That's why I was actually relieved that he wanted to go hang out with his friends on Halloween. I just wanted to do something to show him how proud I am of him."
"Cristina," I started, but she shook her head sharply, drawing in a breath and reaching for a roll of paper.
"We better get to work."
The movie was coming to an end and I was feeling happily lost in a tangle of paper, ribbons, and tags when I heard the door to the office open sharply. Cristina's laughter died, and her eyes narrowed, and I knew who had stepped inside.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
I stood and turned to face Willa.
"It's lovely to see you, too."
"I've been looking all over for you. I've called you a thousand times."
I touched my pocket and realized that I had left my phone in the car.
"I'm sorry I missed your calls."
"That's it? You're supposed to be at the office."
I looked around.
"If you didn't notice, I am at the office."
"You know what I mean. You said that you were going to stay there and keep track of the reports."
"No, Willa, you said that I was going to stay there and keep track of the reports. I decided that I had other things to do. I know you don't like to hear this, but I actually do have autonomy."
"I told you that I was going to be back tonight. I thought that we were going to have dinner."
She had assumed the whimpery tearful voice that she used with Wilton, but I was far from buying it.
"You said we could have turkey sandwiches like you were tossing me a bone. Then you wouldn't tell me when you were actually getting back. I wasn't just going to sit around and wait for you to show up. I found something else to do."
"I see that," Willa snapped, glaring at the stack of wrapped presents and the scattered wrappings and embellishments. "So where did you find this one?"
She was looking at Cristina, who had climbed to her feet and was tucking the wrapped gifts back in the hopper. When she heard what Willa said, she turned her eyes to her sharply.
"You've got to be kidding," I said. "This is Cristina. She works at the office."
"How am I supposed to know that?" Willa asked angrily. "I'm never here."
"Your office," I said.
"It's OK, Josh," Cristina said quietly. "I should probably go."
"It's not alright," I said, then looked back at Willa. "Are you serious right now? You see her almost every day and you're going to stand there acting like you have no idea who she is."
Recognition crossed Willa's face, followed by a sneer.
"Oh, that's right. The cleaning lady." I saw Cristina pause and her eyes close briefly, but she maintained her composure and kept transferring the gifts into the hopper. "You seem to think you're a bit too familiar with Mr. Worthington."
"She doesn't have to call me that."
"Why don't you clean up this mess?" Willa snapped. "Come on, Joshie."
"Willa!"
"What? It's what she does. I tell you what. Even though she's not in the office where she belongs, I'll put a little extra on her next paycheck. As long as she does a good job, of course."
"Stop it."
Cristina dropped the box in her hands and turned away from the hopper, stalking across the office and out, slamming the door behind her.
"Did she seriously just walk out of here without doing what I told her to?" Willa asked in disgust.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Excuse me?"
"How could you talk to her like that? She's not your servant, and even if she was, she wouldn't deserve you treating her that way."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Of course, you don't. Because you can't get your head out of your designer-encrusted ass long enough to notice anybody else around you."
"What's going on with you?"
"Do you know what I did tonight? I went shopping. I went to my main store and I experienced the Black Friday sale like the customers do, and you know what I realized? We screw the living fuck out of those people. All these things that you came up with to boost sales are awful and they really cause the people who make the choice to come to our stores issues that they shouldn't have to deal with. They are dealing with out of control crowds. nonsensical layouts, deceptive pricing, and things that they are relying on being there that aren't because they didn't get there two seconds before. Christmas is hanging in the balance for some of these people, and we're causing them more trouble than we are helping them."
"I'm not the only one who came up with those ads and tactics," she protested, "and even if I was, so what? We aren't a charity or a humanitarian organization. We own stores. Retail establishments. It's our job to provide products for them to buy. If they come to our store, that's their choice. We're not forcing them to come, and when they do come, we're not forcing them to buy anything. Who cares if they don't get everything on their list or they buy a few things that they didn't plan on? All that matters is the bottom line, and those sales make sure that ours is healthy."
"It's not ours, Willa. It's mine, and I don't like a lot of the things I saw tonight."
She scoffed and rolled her eyes at me.
"Leave it to you to get all misty-eyed during the holidays."
"You need to go, Willa," I said.
The anger inside me was so strong I could feel my muscles twitching and the back of my neck burning. I needed her out of my sight.
"What?"
"I need you to go. I can't look at you right now. Honestly, at this point, I don't really want to look at you again."
"What are you saying?"
"You know exactly what I'm saying. Don't try to act so naive."
Willa suddenly looked startled.
"Let's not fight," she said smoothly, trying to inject as much sweetness into her voice as she could. "It's the holidays and we're just tense. I'm OK, you know. I understand if you want to have fun before we're married. I don't mind. You can do whatever you want as long as no one knows about it."
"I don't need your permission to do anything, Willa. Not anymore. Please just go."
Willa finally turned around and headed out of the office. As soon as she was gone, I looked around at the remnants of the night and the time that Cristina and I had gotten to spend together. I realized that she had left all of the gifts behind, along with her purse. I stared at them, remembering the look on her face as we talked about the gifts I had chosen and what she wanted for Matteo. A sudden sense of resolute calm came over me and I checked my watched before stalking out of the office and down to the parking deck. I climbed behind the wheel of my car, relieved that Willa had likely had her driver bring her to the front of the building, and started across town.