Chapter 18
Poppy sat next to Louise, across from Will and Tori, in the mediator’s office space on the thirty-seventh floor of a skyscraper.
The attorney mediating the case sat at the head of the conference table, his gray hair in sharp contrast with his horn-rimmed glasses that Poppy suspected were holdovers from the mid-twentieth century and not a recent hipster purchase.
“The State of New York impresses that to solve this conflict amicably and without the time and attention of the Supreme Civil Court is preferable to all parties.” He put down the paper he’d been reading from. “Look, folks, let’s get this straight. I don’t want any bickering, no emotional ringers”—he looked pointedly at Tori, or rather, Tori’s growing belly—“and no histrionics.” He looked pointedly at Poppy.
She wished she could speak up and tell him what a misogynistic term that was, but in fact, she had been over-the-top hysterical during Will’s parents’ anniversary party. Was she the same woman who’d thrown that punch bowl across the parquet floor?
“Are we in agreement?”
“Yes, sir.” Poppy spoke up as Tori looked to Will for confirmation. An unexpected burst of compassion for her former assistant washed over her. The young woman really did appear to be besotted with Will. Will, for his part, appeared cool and together, but she saw the fear in his eyes. The same look he’d had when he’d originally come to her, needing to feel confident in his suits as he went up against his Russian business counterparts.
What a fucking wimp he was. How had she not seen this before?
As the mediation wore on, Poppy deferred most of her statements to Louise. Louise knew her position on everything and more importantly, how to express it without giving away anything vital to the case. Poppy’s main goal was to get out of this room with her business back in hand, and her operating funds back in her control.
“Ms. Kaminsky, please explain when you first realized Ms. Callis was attempting to gain control of your business.”
“Do you mean when she started screwing my then-fiancé?”
“Ms. Kaminsky.” The mediator’s tone was her first warning, as Louise’s quick squeeze of her thigh told her.
“Um, sorry. When she launched her own website with my logo, approximately one week before her nuptials to Wi—Mr. Callis.”
There. That had to be a more appropriate statement.
“Ms. Callis?” He looked at Tori, who shifted in her seat, her hand firmly grasped by Will’s atop the smooth polished table.
“Yes, well, I did use her logo but it was because I had helped her come up with three of her latest home and fashion coordinating concepts. The ideas that sold Attitude by Amber.”
“Which your rabid lawsuit put an end to, fuck you very much.” The words escaped Poppy’s mouth effortlessly, and she felt about a hundred pounds lighter.
“Ms. Kaminsky!” If the mediator had a gavel she imagined he’d knock her upside her head with it.
“Sorry.”
Louise didn’t even issue her own echo of the warning this time. She’d known Poppy too long. If Poppy was going to be outspoken, there was nothing Louise or anyone else would do to stop her tirade.
The mediator went on for another five minutes, during which Poppy found her mind going back to the boutique in New Orleans. Her new office there. Will. Will kissing her, licking her…
“Ms. Kaminsky?” This time the lawyer sounded genuinely concerned.
Poppy blinked. “I’m sorry.” Tori and Will stared at her, their hands in a death lock together atop the conference table. Why she had ever thought that was what she wanted, she’d never know. But she knew that she’d figured out what she wanted. And it wasn’t here in a stuffy office building with the likes of Will and Tori around. Poppy wanted the scent of gardenias and the white magnolia petals beckoning her to stay a while. She wanted the scent of brackish water and the feel of the blanket of humidity that made her hair frizz. She wanted New Orleans.
Brandon.
She took in a deep breath, exhaled, and placed her hand on Louise’s forearm. “Forgive me, Louise.” She looked at the mediator and gave him a quick smile. “Allow me this, please.”
She faced Will and Tori, meeting each of their gazes before focusing entirely on Tori.
“Tori, you know that you were my intern, then my assistant, and I promoted you to executive assistant only because you’re damned good with a schedule and you never missed my coffee times.” Indeed, Tori had always ensured a double-mocha-triple-whip latte was on Poppy’s desk midmorning and midafternoon. “You know nothing, however, about graphic design or design of any nature. You certainly had nothing to do with any of my designs. The documentation shows that. You’ve got what you wanted—your husband—and you have a child on the way. I’m willing to give you my local, New York City client list”—she ignored Louise’s gasp—“if you’ll agree to take down my logo from your website and divest yourself and your business of anything related to Designs by Amber.” Poppy saw no reason to bring up her new business name, or to mention that she’d already undertaken the steps necessary to obtain a new logo. “Also, you must drop all claims against me.”
Now Poppy faced Will. “Or I’ll take you both to court for defamation of character and sue you for what I stood to earn from Attitude by Amber in the first two years.” Will’s eyes widened and she knew she had him. Money was how to talk to Will.
“That doesn’t sound very fair.” Tori’s voice was high and whiny, another trait Poppy wondered how she’d put up with for as long as she had.
“You’re being too quick here, Poppy.” Louise whispered harshly in her ear. “Let’s call a recess.”
“No. I’m sorry. You can do your job now.” She remained quiet but allowed herself to glare at Will and Tori in alternating rounds of if-you-could-read-my-mind as Louise knocked out an agreement with them and the mediator.
“I just don’t understand how you can agree to this so quickly, Will.” Tori’s face was contorted in a most unbeautiful manner. Instead of the supreme satisfaction that would have coated her shattered heart a month ago, Poppy saw the reality of the couple that sat in front of her.
“We’re starting a new life together. We don’t need this. You and the baby don’t need the stress.” Will’s ministrations to his bride should have been enough to make Poppy to dive over the table and scratch both their eyes out. She looked at her watch. The sooner this was over the sooner she could get back to her new job, her real life. The reminder of NOLA and Brandon stilled her impatience. As much as getting back to working with Bianca and living near Sonja was going to be wonderful, the thought of a life without Brandon seemed grayer than a New York fog.
Poppy walked out of the mediation with her head high and her shoulders back. When she knew she was safely out of sight of the participants, she did a quick soul-pumping jig in celebration. She’d finally done it. She’d figured out who she was and what she wanted to do with her life. Where she wanted to live her life.
The who she wanted to share her life with would have to wait, for now.
She looked at her watch and picked up her pace toward the elevators. If she worked quickly, she’d be able to leave New York by early next week.
* * * *
Brandon hated being alone in his house. Strike that, he hated being in the house without Poppy. He finished up the scrambled eggs in the fry pan and doused them with a hefty shake of his home state’s best hot sauce. Food and searching for a new way to reboot his business were the only sure things these past weeks.
And how much he missed Poppy.
His doorbell rang and he looked at the pop-up window on his phone, which he pressed to open the mic. “Come on in, bro.”
Henry appeared in the kitchen a few minutes later. “Hey, Brandon.”
“Want some eggs?”
“Naw, but I’ll take some of that coffee.”
“Help yourself.” Brandon stayed in his seat at the counter, shoveling eggs into his mouth.
“What do you hear about Jeb?” Henry put the carafe back in place and slid onto a stool next to Brandon.
“He’s back—it was all a misunderstanding.” Brandon mentally went over the story he, Jeb, and the FBI had agreed upon.
“Taking fifteen million dollars was a mistake?” Henry’s incredulity made Brandon laugh.
“Yeah, well, no. It wasn’t Jeb who took it—it was some foreign hacker. So Jeb thought he’d cut them off at the knees, you know how crazy-smart he is with computers. Problem is the hackers out-witted him and cleared his bank account, too.”
“Man, that sucks. What are you going to do about Boats by Gus?”
“That’s the negative-fifteen-million-dollar question.” He stood up and got himself more coffee. Since Poppy left he had a hard time shaking the foggy wisps of melancholy from his thoughts. Caffeine staved off total despair.
“You’re telling me the U.S. Government won’t help you in this circumstance? You’ve been robbed by a foreign entity. I know you have recourse.” Lawyer Henry came out in full force.
“You know, this is the most animated you’ve been since you got back.” As in back from taking off for weeks after the wedding-that-wasn’t. “Any contact with Sonja?”
“No. She’ll be coming back to the firm, though.”
“It’s just you two in the city office, right?”
“Yes.” Henry looked out the window, making it clear he didn’t want to talk about it. “I spoke with Mom and Dad. They feel like shit.”
“Sure they do.”
“No, really. I think they’ve finally realized their overreach in their kids’ lives.” Henry looked at him with the same blue eyes he had. “They said they were reminded how much they missed when they saw you at the rehearsal dinner, and when Jena didn’t come back for the wedding.”
“Jena can’t come back, not while she’s been called to active duty.”
“They seem to think she could have delayed reporting for this stretch of service. Taken leave or something.” Henry looked at him. “Brandon, what’s wrong? You look like hell, man.”
“Nothing. Everything.”
“Anything besides the business stuff going on?” At least Henry had dropped the Jeb discussion. But his brother had his knowing smirk firmly in place. “Woman trouble, maybe?”
“I don’t have any problems, per se. I also don’t have any woman, in case you haven’t noticed.” He waved his hand around the room.
“Something happened between you and Poppy.” Henry said it as fact.
“Why do you say that?”
“Come off it, Brandon. You couldn’t take your eyes off her from the moment you met her.”
“Nothing happened before the storm, at least…” He stopped, remembering the gazebo after the wedding fiasco. “After I got her out of your house we worked together to prepare me to put a bid on a government shipbuilding contract.”
“And?”
“And, and I don’t know. We connected.” He wasn’t going to spill it all to Henry. His memories with Poppy were precious gems that he wanted to keep safe in a drawstring bag in his heart’s deepest chamber. “I’ve never felt so at ease with a woman before. But I have nothing to offer her, not with the business up in the air. And now, my business is getting back on track but what am I supposed to do? She left. She belongs in New York anyway. Her whole life is there.”
“What do you mean you don’t have anything to offer her?”
Brandon stared at his brother with complete disbelief. He loved his brother, respected Henry as the brains of the family, but sometimes his brother was obtuse. As though no one had problems if he didn’t. “Henry, I have no income, my business is in shambles. It’s not the time to ask a woman to share her life with mine.”
“It’s the best time to ask, bro.” Henry rinsed out his mug and put it in the dishwasher. Sonja must have trained him because Brandon couldn’t recall a time when Henry had ever done any kind of household chore whatsoever when they were kids.
“How did that work for you and Sonja?” As soon as the words were out his stomach clenched in regret. He slammed his hand on the counter. “I’m sorry, Henry. That was a dick move.”
“It was, but I’m not taking it personally. When your heart’s hurting it’s amazing what shit can spew out of your mouth. Believe me, I know.”
“Tell me what you meant.”
“You’re at your lowest. You don’t want a woman who only wants you when you’re flying high, do you? You want the girl who’ll stay in it through the rough patches, and whomever you chose will have to understand the rough patches can get painfully tough. You’re always at the mercy of the next contract, right?”
“Yes, but no differently than you relying on new clients walking in off the street.”
“I disagree. People will always need legal help. Boats aren’t a necessity—unless you start building boats that are needed by higher profile customers like governments. Like the San Sofia contract you told me about.”
Henry walked around the huge island and gripped Brandon on the shoulder. “You’ve got to swallow the Boudreaux pride and go after her. Or regret it the rest of your life.”
“Are you telling me you went after Sonja after she left the church?”
Complete dejection coated Henry’s expression. “No. I’m telling you don’t be like me. Don’t be the one who has lifelong regrets.”