How (Not) to Fall in Love (13 page)

The tray slammed down, sending cups and plates clattering. I whirled to look at him. He bent over the counter, picking up the spilled cups, his hair hiding his face.

“Are you okay, Lucas?” I didn’t know what was happening, or understand the energy rolling off of him in waves. I could practically reach out and touch it.

He ignored me as he washed dishes in the sink.

“I used to think I was in love with him,” I said, surprised by my confession. “If you can believe it.”

Lucas stilled, then straightened and turned to look at me. “I can believe it. Girls are suckers for a pretty face.”

“You would know.” Oh my God. I’d said that out loud. And I couldn’t take it back.

He watched me silently, waiting. I turned back to the counter, scrubbing hard, wishing I could erase my words the way I erased the coffee stains.

“But you’re over him,” Lucas said from behind me.

I nodded, but didn’t turn around. “There’s not much to be over,” I muttered. “He never really knew me. And he’s not very…aware of what other people are going through.”

Unlike you, I wanted to say, but this time I kept my mouth shut.

We cleaned up and avoided eye contact. After I closed out the register and hid the cashbox in Ft. Knox Fairyland, we left together. Lucas waited while I locked the alley door, Toby nudging his hand for petting.

I really wished for a light in the alley tonight, because the dark made me want to walk closer to Lucas. But I didn’t.

He held the truck door open while Toby jumped inside and I climbed in after him. I started the Reaper and Lucas closed the door, then gestured for me to roll down the window.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be a jerk earlier. But that guy…” He shrugged and turned to look down the dark alley.

“It’s okay.” I swallowed over the lump in my throat. Where had that come from? I reached over to pet Toby. “Thanks for the walk today. For telling me about your dad.”

“I’m always here for you, Darcy.” His voice was quiet. “Whatever you need.”

I nodded, unsure of how to reply.

He stepped away from the truck, pulling up the collar of his leather jacket against the wind. “See you later, Shaker Girl.”

Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

W
hen I got home, I found Dad’s latest postcard on the kitchen counter.

This one was from New Mexico with only the state flag on the front. He hadn’t written a single word on the back. Instead he’d sketched a man sitting cross-legged on the ground. All around him swirled images of angry faces. The man’s eyes were closed and a single tear rolled down his face.

The drawing worried me more than anything that had happened so far. Was this how my dad felt? What made him run away?

I thought of Lucas, telling me he was there for me. I had the urge to call him, to share this latest burden with someone I knew would listen.

But instead, I trudged slowly up the stairs and collapsed on my bed, closing my eyes and praying for sleep.

Chapter Sixteen

November 4

I
’d been to the Harvest offices many times before, but never by myself. Dad’s personal parking spot in the underground lot was empty. I pulled the rumbling truck into it, grinning at the idea of J.J.’s face if he saw this crappy truck where Dad’s BMW usually parked.

I was halfway across the lot before a voice stopped me.

“Young lady? You can’t park there.”

I turned around to face Don, the security guard who’d known me since I was a little kid.

His eyes widened as he recognized me. “Darcy? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

Great, my own personal truant officer. I hesitated. “I have a message, for J.J. and the board.”

Don shook his head, his gaze softening. “I sure do miss your daddy. I hear all kinds of rumors about him.” He narrowed his eyes. “And I don’t believe any of that crap on the internet about him ruining the company. Your daddy ain’t that type.”

Some of the tension eased out of me. “Thanks, Don. That means a lot.” I adjusted the messenger bag slung across my body. “I need to get in there before I chicken out.” I glanced at the silver Jaguar in J.J.’s parking spot.

Don followed my gaze and grimaced. “You want me to back you up?” He slapped his hip. “They don’t let me pack more heat than a Taser, but it could come in handy up there.” He grinned at me.

I laughed. It would be nice to have a semi-armed sidekick, but I had to do this on my own. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m good.” I took a few steps away, then turned back. “If I have to make a fast getaway, you can keep the dogs off of me.”

Don laughed and raised his hand in a mock salute.

I pushed through the steel door and waited at the bank of elevators. Breathe. Inhale calm. Exhale stress. All I was asking for was time, not money.

When the elevator opened onto the penthouse suite, Dad’s secretary looked up. She looked even more shocked than Don. “Darcy?” she whispered, then glanced over her shoulder to the long row of offices behind her. “What are you doing here?” Mrs. Hamilton looked like a scary high school principal, but she was as sweet as cotton candy.

“I need to see J.J and the board,” I said. “I’m guessing they’re meeting? Freaking out about my dad?” I knew Dad always had board meetings on Tuesday mornings, and hoped the day hadn’t changed. I hadn’t even thought twice about ditching school to do this. I looked down the hallway toward the conference room and swallowed hard.

“Yes. In fact the whole board is in there right now,” she said, watching me warily.

Dreams die every day because people are afraid to take the first step.
Dad’s words propelled me to take one step, then two.

Just do this, I told myself. Don’t stop. Don’t think. Just do
.

“Darcy, wait!” Mrs. Hamilton called after me, but I didn’t stop.

Photographs lined the walls—enormous framed photos of my dad with athletes, rock stars, and internet millionaires—brass plaques attached with quotes from the clients.
“I owe my success to Ty’s philosophy.”
“Tri!Umphant! Harvest turned me from a star into a superstar.”
And on and on.

The conference room door was closed, but I heard yelling on the other side. I closed my eyes, imagining Dad’s face. I pictured him coming home, enveloping Mom and me in bear hugs. Visualized him standing here instead of me, throwing open the door, confronting J.J. and the board. Telling them it was all a mistake. Demanding apologies. Firing J.J.

My hand shook as I reached for the doorknob, but I tried to channel some of Dad’s strength. What did I have to lose? We were already losing everything.

I opened the door.

The voices stopped. A sea of unknown faces stared at me, some of them openmouthed.

“Darcy, what are you doing here?” asked J.J., the only person I recognized.

An older woman sitting at the head of the table spoke. “You’re Darcy Covington? Tyler’s daughter?” She glared at me from behind enormous eyeglasses.

I nodded. My courage was fading fast.

“What do you want?” Her voice was like steel.

I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “One week. No, make that two weeks.”

She frowned at me. The others gathered around the table whispered to each other, darting looks at me. “Two weeks?” she asked. “Two weeks of what?”

“Time,” I said.
Breathe
. “We need two more weeks to move. Two weeks beyond what you’ve given us as the eviction date.”

The whispers grew louder.

“Darcy, you shouldn’t have come here.” J.J.’s voice was low and closer than I expected.

I turned toward him. “Why not, J.J.? You wouldn’t listen to us. What else could I do?” I turned to the woman who’d spoken, since she looked like she was in charge. “You’re taking everything from us. We don’t have any money. Now we’re losing our home. Selling everything. Don’t you people have any heart?” I looked around the table. No one spoke.

“My dad built this place!” I flung out my arms. “If it weren’t for him, Harvest wouldn’t exist. None of you would be on this board. Don’t you owe us some compassion?”

“We don’t owe you anything, Darcy.” J.J.’s voice was soft but dangerous.

Suddenly everyone was talking and yelling, gesturing and pointing.

“Silence!” The woman banged her hand on the table. Everyone turned to look at her. “Is this true, J.J.? Mrs. Covington asked for more time to move?”

J.J. blanched but said nothing.

I glared at him, furious, then turned back to the woman. “Yes,” I said. “It’s true. But J.J. told my mom he couldn’t do anything about that. He said it was a board decision.” I took another breath. “That’s why I’m here. To ask you to…to…please reconsider.”

The woman lowered her glasses on her nose, looking at me, then at J.J. “Based on everything else we’ve heard from you today, J.J., I’m inclined to believe this young lady.”

The whispering started again, but the woman held up her hand to silence it. “It seems the least we can do is give them more time to move.” Her eyes pierced mine. “God knows they’ve suffered enough already.” Her gaze swept the table. “I move to amend the eviction notice to allow the Covington family an additional month to vacate the house.”

An extra month? My knees threatened to buckle with relief, but I forced myself to stand straighter.

“I second the motion,” a voice called from the far end of the table.

My imperious savior scanned the board members, her eyes narrow behind her glasses. “All in favor?” A chorus of ayes filled the room but J.J. stayed silent.

“Very well, Miss Covington. The attorneys will amend the paperwork and messenger it to your mother.”

I nodded, swallowing tears. “Thank you,” I mumbled, not trusting myself to say more.

Her eyes fixed on mine. “I wish we could do more. But we have stockholders to answer to.” She gestured to the door. “We need to resume our meeting now.”

As I backed toward the door, I forced a grateful smile to those sitting closest to me. A few smiled in return, but most sat as still as statues. As I turned the doorknob, the woman’s voice stopped me. “Miss Covington.”

I met her eyes.

“Your father would be proud of you.” She paused. “Very proud.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “That’s all.” She nodded and returned her attention to the stack of papers in front of her.

I left the room, closing the door behind me, and floated down the hallway, feeling disembodied. Mrs. Hamilton waited at her desk, her hands twisting nervously. “Darcy, what happened?”

I gave her a thumbs-up as I continued floating toward the elevators.

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means I got what I came for.”

The elevator door swooshed open and I stepped inside. Maybe I’d inherited some of Tri Ty’s DNA, after all.

M
om and I ate tacos while watching
American Idol.
I was usually working when it was on, so I recorded it to watch late at night. It was a perfect distraction from our family’s disaster, watching other people bomb on national TV. The tacos were pretty good, too. I’d even splurged on a couple of out-of-season avocados and made us guacamole to celebrate. I hadn’t told Mom the good news yet. I was waiting to see how much she’d drink. So far she’d only had one glass of wine, so I decided now was as good a time as any.

“So,” I said casually, “I got the Harvest board to agree to an extra month. We have until the end of December to move out. You’ll get new paperwork from the attorneys. So this means we can have the estate sale, then we’ll have plenty of time to sort through what’s left. We can move what we want to keep. The rest can go to charity.” I took a bite of taco. “It will give us more time to find a new place to live, too.”

Mom gaped at me. “You what? How in the world?” She still looked like hell. Rumpled. Wrinkled. Exhausted.

“I went to the office today and sort of crashed a board meeting.” I grinned. “I didn’t have an appointment, but they didn’t turn me away.”

Mom’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God. Darcy. You shouldn’t have done that.”

I stiffened. “Why not? Were
you
going to ask them?”

Mom lowered her eyes. “No, I wasn’t. But you shouldn’t have gone down there. J.J. is so angry at your father. Everyone at Harvest is.”

I thought of Don the security guard, and Mrs. Hamilton. And the lady with glasses who’d given us the extra time. “Not everyone is,” I said.

She fell back against the couch cushions. “I’m amazed they agreed to that.” She looked at me. “What about J.J.? When I call to ask if he’s heard from your dad, he’s always so difficult over the phone.”

“Well, fortunately the decision was put to the board, and J.J. was outvoted.” I smiled at her, but she just shook her head.

“Sometimes you remind me a lot of your father.”

“Really?”

She nodded as she bit into a taco.

This was the first conversation in a long time where she was mostly sober. I decided to take advantage of it. “Mom?” She watched me, eyebrows raised expectantly, and I went on. “I’ve been thinking about Dad. About how at first I couldn’t believe he just…just left us. But I’ve been remembering stuff. Like over the summer when he missed an appearance in Salt Lake. Remember that?”

Mom put down her taco. She nodded, wiping her hands on her napkin. “He said he had a really bad stomach bug.”

“But I read some stuff online, from over the summer. People who went to his shows said he didn’t seem like himself.” Mom didn’t say anything so I pressed on. “And he’d been sleeping a lot. There were some days he didn’t get out of bed until dinner time.”

He’d told us he was just exhausted from work and travel, but it had been completely unlike him. Dad was invincible, so I’d taken his word that he was okay, but I’d been thinking about all of this when I lay awake at night, trying to put the pieces together.

“I should have done something,” Mom said, her voice barely a whisper. “Called his doctor. Asked J.J. for help. But I wanted to believe him when he said he was just tired from working too much.”

We sat in silence, focusing on the tuneless girl on TV. It hadn’t occurred to me that Mom might be feeling as guilty as I did about missing the clues. But I couldn’t shut down. I’d learned that about myself. I was learning that I could make things happen. People listened to me. They helped when I asked them to, like Charlie and Lucas. They even changed their minds, like today at the board meeting.

“The estate sale lady is coming tomorrow at four,” I reminded Mom. “Can you be here?”

Mom ran a hand across her eyes. “I don’t think so. I’m working on a special project for Pam. On the computer.” Mom lowered her eyes. “I get the feeling she doesn’t want me meeting with clients right now. I can’t blame her.” She raised her eyes, pooled with tears.

“Oh, Mom.” I pushed aside my TV tray and scooted closer to her on the couch. I held her hand. “Pam’s an evil bitch. So is her daughter Chloe.”

Mom laughed. “Maybe so, but she’s paying me right now so I have to do what she asks.”

I sighed. “Can’t you find a better job, Mom? Someplace where you’re not treated like a slave?”

Mom leaned against me. “It’s been so long since I’ve worked, Darcy. I don’t have many marketable skills.”

“You have lots of skills, Mom. You just can’t recognize them right now.”

She laughed. “You’re my daughter so you have to say that.” She squeezed my hand. “Maybe after we get moved I’ll look for something else.”

I wanted to believe her. “I almost forgot,” I said, anxious to change the subject. “I’m going to look at apartments soon with Lucas. Do you want to come with us?”

Lucas had texted me during school to say he’d found several places that fit our criteria. He’d also sent me a photo of a
Toy Story
salt and pepper shaker set: Woody and Buzz Lightyear.
“Yes or no?”
he’d texted.

“Yes,”
I’d replied, grinning at my phone until Sal kicked my foot so I didn’t get busted texting in class.

Mom shook her head. “I’m doing open houses the next few Saturdays.”

“I thought you said Pam didn’t want you meeting potential clients.”

“These are foreclosures. I don’t think she cares who sees me there.”

So it would just be Lucas and me. Together. I bit my lip. No big deal. He was helping me as a friend. Sal’s skeptical face loomed in my mind, but I shook my head to get rid of the image. I didn’t have time for wishful daydreams. We had to get ready for the estate sale, pack, find a place, and move. Plus school, which I wasn’t focusing much energy on. At all.

The guidance counselor had called me into her office a few days ago to tell me she’d met with my teachers and because of my “situation” I was being given a reduced workload for now. That was a relief, but I didn’t care about my grades as long as I passed. I knew my Ivy League dreams were dust, but I didn’t want to give up on the idea of college completely.

We watched the rest of
American Idol
, and Mom even laughed out loud a few times at some of the contestants. Reality television had its uses.

S
al called me just as Toby and I were drifting off to sleep.