When she stayed silent, I continued, “You think I don’t have my ear to the ground when it comes to you, Vanessa? I know all about your thing with Duchesne. Using him to keep your daddy off your back while you sample men with less-than-perfect pedigrees. So who was it? Some blue-collar guy you’re sneaking around with so your old man doesn’t find out?”
Her features hardened into the same expression she’d worn as she walked out of my bedroom.
“You don’t know anything about me, so don’t pretend you do. Except you’re right—I’m not seeing Simon. I think that’s pretty common knowledge. So if you were going for shock value to get a reaction out of me, you missed.”
Frustration mounted. She was like one of the puzzle boxes I’d gotten from Joy for my sixteenth birthday. I knew there was something cool as hell waiting inside, but I’d never figured out how to solve it. In the end, I’d found a hammer and smashed it—and almost destroyed the St. Christopher medal waiting inside. “Then why? Why won’t you sit down and share a simple goddamn meal with me and some kids?”
She inhaled sharply and looked away. “I just…I just can’t, Con.”
My expression hardened into a mask to rival hers as my temper slipped its chain. “You’re not too good to make them dinner—because that’s your daily act of fucking charity—but you’re too good to actually sit down and eat it with them.”
Her spine stiffened visibly. “If that’s what you think of me, then I’m sure you were never going to donate the property anyway.”
“Yeah, because let’s not lose sight for a second why you’re actually here: you need something from me.”
“Why else would I be here?” she asked quietly.
I just shook my head. “I think it’s time for you to go. Probably just in time, too, because for a second I thought you might actually be more than a stuck-up bitch.”
She snatched her purse off the counter. “Then I’ll just get out of your way.”
“You’re kissing that property goodbye.”
“Like I said, we both know you were never going to give it to me anyway.”
Her skirt flared as she turned on her flip-flops and headed for the door. It was an exit to rival the last notable one she’d made out of my life.
And just like the chump I’d been then, I once again followed at a discreet distance behind her and made sure she got home all right.
I sorted papers and filed until my desk was spotless. That much easier for packing up my stuff when I resigned my position. I hadn’t taken my diplomas off the wall, and my heart sank when I realized that if I followed through with my plan, that was exactly how I’d be ending my day.
I’d always regretted that my mother didn’t live long enough to see me become the skinny girl she’d always wanted me to be. The full effects of my late growth spurt hadn’t been readily apparent before she’d passed. In my grief, it had been hard to appreciate the extra five inches bestowed on me in less than a year. That vertical magic, combined with months of barely eating, had taken me from a chunky five-foot-three eighth grader to a willowy five-foot-eight high school freshman.
Well, now I suppose I ought to be grateful that she hadn’t lived long enough to see me leave the L.R. Bennett Foundation with my tail between my legs. A failure. It was especially hard to stomach because even when I’d been the chubby girl, I’d always been the smart girl. The straight A student. The one with the answers. And in this, I was admitting defeat. My melancholy attitude would require copious amounts of wine. And I already wanted to kick myself for being grateful that my mother wasn’t alive to see this. Who thought stuff like that? Me, apparently.
Elle interrupted my pathetic moment of self-reflection.
“You’ve been avoiding me all day. That shit has to stop.”
There were a lot of good things about working with your childhood best friend, but there were also some bad things. Like not being able to hide anything—personally or professionally—ever. She’d been the mastermind behind the plan of me begging Con. She’d also advocated the on-bended-knee-and-in-the-dirtiest-way-possible method, but I’d demurred.
Elle dropped into the chair across from my empty desk.
“I was going to stop by as soon as I delivered this to Archer.” I plucked a single sheet of paper from my credenza, and Elle snatched it out of my hand.
“Oh, fuck me. You did not write your letter of resignation.”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“You’re supposed to fight for this. Leave no stone unturned until we figure out a solution. And if we can’t figure something out, then you go to Archer, and you tell him that it was a legal problem. You explain that it wasn’t your fault, and you still deserve to run this place.”
“You know it won’t work like that. You know he’ll expect me to admit that running this project was more than I could handle, which means running the foundation is clearly too much for me to handle, which is just as good as tendering my resignation.”
Elle shook her head.
“I’m disappointed in you, Vanessa.”
Her words crushed my already battered self-confidence. “Thanks. I’m disappointed in me too.”
“Not because of the project, you idiot, but because you’re ready to walk away from your dream without even fighting for it.”
“I fought, Elle. I went to Con, and he said—”
“I don’t care what he said. You have to go back. I will not let you walk away from this. Besides, what do you really have to lose now, if you’re so sure you’ve already lost it all?”