Lacey
One Month Later
“SORRY, WHAT?” MY BEST friend Jessa asked as we spoke through the Bluetooth connection in my top of the range four-wheel-drive Chevy rental.
“You heard me, dummy, I’m in Montana.”
“And you what now?” she was stunned, I could tell. We spoke at least once a week and texted constantly, daily. She knew I had bought the farm in Montana, yet I hadn’t mentioned my spur-of-the-moment trip.
“I’m in Montana, driving to the farm I bought...”
“As an investment,” she butted in, “but now you’re moving there?” she was shocked and my best friend was rarely shocked by much that I did. The thing about being me was that the unexpected was kinda my M.O. so I was glad to see I could still deliver the wow factor after a lifetime best friend membership with Jessa.
“Soooo,” I drew out my words and sighed, “I sorta quit my job and told Max Peterson to go fuck himself. The city was getting old, so I thought, hey I have the farm and I always wanted to start my own business, so I’m taking a little sabbatical.”
“But you love NYC and when did you quit your job?” now she sounded less surprised and more concerned. I hated that tone, and I’d heard it more than once over the last couple of months. Jessa wore her heart on her sleeve and worried way more than was humanly necessary. She wasn’t as carefree as me and liked her decisions to be well crafted. She was the yin to my yang. I had things under control, she didn’t need to worry.
“Jessa,” I blew out a breath as I narrowed my eyes to read the sparse green road signs, “you know that job was more demanding than the grim reaper during the bubonic plague and guess what? I had enough.”
“You did?” she sounded unsure.
“Yeah,” I was getting tetchy, I shouldn’t have called. Just texted.
“So, when did this happen? What brought it on?” she pushed. Just then I heard an explosion of tears in the background and I knew I was saved by a whine. Her son Monty was almost two and demanding as all hell, he was enough to put anyone off children for the foreseeable. She'd breast-fed him for far too long and now he needed her to give him a love fix every few minutes or he’d explode into tears.
“I hear Monty,” I told her, “you better see to him and I need to follow the signs for Celebration Falls, so I’ll call you later.”
“No, he’s good. Will!” she shouted her husband to help but the screaming only intensified.
“Deal with your spawn and call me later,” I told her. “I’m good.”
“Lace...” I cut the call before she could question me any further and turned off the highway to follow the single, gray tarmac road that was flanked either side by the faded yellow fuzz that passed for grass round these parts and drove towards the town where I had purchased a farm two years before. I excelled in numbers at college and worked in equities from graduation and so I picked up a few personal investments along the way. Bryan and I both worked at the same equities firm and sensibly were not financially linked as we were both shrewd with our investments. It was our bread and butter. We both loved making money and protected our assets subconsciously which led to a (so far) harmonious separation. The farm was something that landed on my desk and was going cheap as the owner had gone bust and yet the turnover for wheat was almost a million per annum. He was mortgaged up to the hilt, and I got a bargain. The turnover wasn’t all profit, but I was working on reducing the overheads.
The family who had owned it kept it ticking over and were paid a monthly salary. It suited everyone, and they were happy to stay on the land. I didn’t have much to do with them but the dividends had been rewarding.
So, two days before the final act that led to my impromptu trip was an argument with Peterson. The guy had always been a prick of epic proportions, but he quit treating me like some blonde bimbo when I matched the partners dollar for dollar when I was only an intern. I wiped the floor with all the other graduates and rather than coffee runs, I accompanied Peterson on business trips from my second month working for Peterson and Tyson Associates. He introduced me to influential clients, I was his protégé. It didn’t seem to matter that I had tits and rather than his pretty office totty, I was his secret weapon. Max Peterson was a shark: shrewd, charming, ruthless and dangerous. We had the same goals—to make copious amounts of money—but whereas I used my charms and remained ethical, he was not adverse to deals that were questionable.
I became a partner. I had paid my dues and my life had been Peterson and Tyson Associates for almost a decade. Bryan interned the same year as me and we were fast friends and then lovers. We were a money-making team. Peterson overstepped the boundaries and the understanding I thought we had was shot to hell, he was lucky I quit rather than filing a lawsuit.
I shook my head at the memory, fuck them to hell. I could make more money out on my own anyway and I had learned enough. I didn’t need the eighty-hour weeks with no weekend and I didn’t need to work for a company where I would be faced with my passive ex any given working day.
I smirked as I recalled my final meeting with the prick...“Are you fuckin’ serious right now, Lacey?” Peterson growled as I placed both my hands angrily on his desk, my mouth set to grimace and my eyes narrowed. Over the years Peterson’s skin had gotten redder and his body more round. He was tall, his hair thinning and now gray. He had been good looking in his day with hazel eyes and a strong physique.
“Were you serious when you touched my ass and asked me to fuck you?” I spat.
“I was joking,” he coughed awkwardly, unable to meet my eye and straightened his expensive silk tie that looked like shit resting on his engorged stomach.
“In all the years I’ve been here you’ve never once treated me like the office bimbo and yet in just five minutes you behaved like a complete creep. You make me sick!” I yelled. His eyes wandered warily to the door of his office that remained open. “I want a settlement and I want out.” He took a deep inhale through his nose and closed his eyes. “I want my partnership investment back, I want a severance bonus and to keep my shares that give me a generous dividend—otherwise I will slap you with a sexual harassment suit so damaging that no one will touch Peterson and Tyson for a decade.”
“It’s your word against mine.” He narrowed his eyes and lay back in his chair, playing hard ball.
“I think we both know that reputation is built on trust and there’s no smoke without fire, so you wanna take the risk?” I sighed, “I can drum up some pretty damaging press.” I pursed my lips and stepped backwards. “Who trusts a man with their hard-earned millions when he’s a pervert who molested his only female partner? Inclusion and diversity is hot as hell right now, you could cause irreparable damage with those grubby mitts!” I nodded to his hands clasped firmly on top of his desk.
Truth be told the old goat trying his luck with me had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. I was unhappy, I was unsettled. I was ready to work less and feel more. My life was fractured, my marriage was over, and I was struggling to see beyond that day.
“Fine,” he spat out, his face practically purple with rage, “go and take your shares.” He shook his head, “I had high hopes for you, Lacey.”
“Yeah?” I laughed callously, “then maybe you should have waited a few weeks after my husband moved across country to feel my ass and try to dry hump me in your office.”
He coughed awkwardly, “we need to agree a timeline.”
“Fuck that,” I added bitterly, “I’ll work my notice remotely and you can organize who I’m handing my clients over to.” I sashayed to the doorway and turned back just before I left, “shame on you Peterson,” I sneered, “I really thought you rated me as a businesswoman but it turns out I was just another piece of ass.”
“You were THE piece of ass,” he growled as I walked through the door. “The best damned intern I ever had.”
I took a deep breath. I knew he rated me, I knew I’d been the best but still he couldn’t keep his sleazy hands off me. I knew he would miss me, and yet I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty for not just brushing off his unwanted advances and getting over it. I hated to be reminded that I was a woman in a man’s world, especially by my boss. Prick...
I followed the Sat Nav to the final turn before the road took me all the way to Celebration Falls. The farm was situated on the periphery of the town, some six thousand acres of golden fields. The old beat up sign read Bishops Hill Farm. It was dated, and the paint was faded but this was the drive to my investment and the place where I would work remotely until I decided what the hell to do with the rest of my life. Sleeping with hot dudes—who were far more interested in nasty sex than they had been when I was last single by the way—was not working.
I would re-group. I would call Jessa and get her on board with Montana... for now.