I give him a slight nod as I take in a deep breath. “He’s not going to care why, Claudio.” Claudio starts to protest, but I put a hand up to stop him. “I’m still gonna try,” I say. “And OK, he might still hate me afterward, but he might not. So I guess it’s better to know one way or the other than let it stay a mystery.”
Claudio leans in and hugs me. “Good luck, girlfriend. And don’t be late for your show. If he’s still a stubborn bastard, just keep your mind on the show. We’ve got opening night, babe. And those bitches in the new auditorium are going to scream so loud, Fletcher Novak will hear them from the other side of the lake.”
I chuckle into his shoulder, trying my best not to cry so he won’t complain about tears on his suit. “I promise to remember that.”
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
The drive up the lake takes almost an hour. This time I know where I’m going and I’m not in a rage trying to follow his red car. So I enjoy it. That’s something I’ve been working on since my father died last summer. Live in the moment, Tiffy. Don’t waste any chances. Because you only get one life. One trip around the game board. One chance to win.
I pull up to the gatehouse where I lied to the guard all those months ago. It’s not the same guy, thank God. Mr. Silverman was very confused by my behavior that day, but he ended up blaming it on my father’s sickness and death.
The guard leans down, placing a hand on the top of my car hood, and says, “Good afternoon, ma’am. Can I help you?”
I grab the pass Fletcher gave Claudio to get me past the gate. “Fletcher Rourke invited me to the house and gave me this pass.”
The guard’s expression changes and a beaming smile comes forth. “Ah, I’m gonna miss him.” He backs away a few paces to push the button for the gate. “Go on in, ma’am,” he says, waving me through.
I drive slowly down the road running parallel to the lakeshore. Every now and then I get a peek at the brilliant blue water flanked on all sides by the majestic mountains. I see the driveway for Fletch’s house. There’s a sale sign attached to the gate with an Open House By Invitation Only banner running across it. When I pull up, the gate opens automatically and I drive forward until Fletcher’s red Camaro comes into view.
I park behind him and get out, dragging my fingertips along the white racing stripe on the hood as I walk up to the front steps. The door is not open, and it has one of those lock boxes on the handle so agents can show the place.
I ring the doorbell several times, but no one comes. I step back from the house and walk back to the driveway, trying to see the backyard. It tilts a little, goes uphill, so I walk a few steps along the stone pavers flanked on either side with brightly colored flower beds, and when I get to the top the view almost takes my breath away.
The thirteen-million-dollar house has an equally impressive backyard. The sand is clean and raked to perfection with the exception of one trail of footsteps and my eyes follow them to the apex of a short dune where I can barely make out a mess of blond hair flowing in the lake breeze peeking out over the top.
I slip my sneakers off and step into the warm sand, my toes digging in deep. It feels wonderful. I have not been on our beach this summer at all. Too busy getting the show in shape. Too busy trying to forget my mistakes last summer. The walk only takes half a minute, and then there I am. Staring down on his sitting frame, his knees tucked up to his chest, his forearms poking out of the rolled-up sleeves of a crisp white dress shirt. Untucked and open in the front so that the slight wind coming off the lake makes it flutter around his body like a sheet in the wind.
“It’s a tough sell,” he says, his back still to me. “Thirteen million dollars.” He turns his head slowly, giving me a sidelong glance over his shoulder. He eyes my tattered jeans first, then his gaze travels up to my white tank top. “Nice outfit.”
“I hear it’s the uniform.”
That gets a half-hearted chuckle out of him as he turns his attention back to the view. But it helps me relax. So I take a few more steps, crest the soft peak of the sand dune, and then slide a little as I descend and take a seat next to him. “Did you sell it?” I ask, my fingertips digging into the sand.
“Got an offer this morning.”
“Are you gonna take it?”
A shrug. “I guess.”
I nod. “I guess I would too. But it would be sad.”
He looks over at me. Another side glance, like he’s not interested in meeting my gaze. “She wasn’t my wife, you know.”
“I know, Fletcher. I know a lot more now than I did back then. I have investigators too.”
He picks up a twig and stabs it into the sand a few times. “She’s my brother’s ex. And Shelly is my niece.”
“You don’t have to explain,” I say. “I know.” He stays silent after that. Just staring out across the sapphire-colored water. I can’t see the south shore from here, but it’s a long view down the entire length of the lake. Breathtaking. “It must be hard to leave.”
“I’m still trying to figure that one out, ya know?” He turns his head again. This time he looks at me straight on. “My granddad was a pretty important golf-course designer back in his day.” Fletch takes a deep breath, looks away, like he’s wondering if he should talk about it or not, then decides he will, and continues. “He got this land before all the development. Back when it was still valuable, but not outrageously so. It was a partial payment for a course he consulted on. And before he died years ago, back when I was eighteen and Walker was nineteen, he was in a huge fight with my parents. Called them no-good lazy bums.” He stops to laugh. It’s real and comes with that smile I loved so much last summer.
“But he was right, I think. And that’s why he gave Walk and me the house. He wanted it to stay in the family and figured my parents would sell it off the first chance they got.” He squints in the sunshine and look over at me again. “They would’ve too.”
I nod. “It’s a lot of responsibility, I imagine.”
“I did my best, Tiff. I tell myself that, anyway. But I just can’t afford it. My granddad left Walk and me about five million each. But after Walker fucked up with Samantha, I bought him out. I spent every last cent getting the title to this place to keep my promise to my granddad and give her a home to live in. A base that Shelly could count on, just like I did when I was a kid.”
I want to take his hand as he works through this decision to sell his house and break his promise. But it’s not something I can make him feel better about. It’s just something he has to come to terms with.
“So it’s ironic, ya know?” He looks at me again, the wind tossing his blond hair in a mess of loose curls, his blue eyes shining in a slash of sunshine that cuts across his face. “I’ll be so rich if I take this offer, money will lose all meaning. Add in the deal I just made down in LA, and it barely makes sense to me.”
I sigh along with his frustration. “That’s how it works, right? The rich get richer and they don’t even have to try. Money makes money.”
“The taxes alone killed me. Every year I scrambled to pay them. Fifty thousand dollars in property taxes. That’s not even counting what it costs to maintain this place. The gardeners alone.” He shakes his head. “And I tried, OK? I tried to mow that fucking lawn. But it was an all-day job, and half the sod died, and then it just cost me more to hire people to come fix the shit I messed up.”
“I can relate. The cost of running that hotel made me throw up when I found out. And then I had to hire someone else to come do it for me, because every time I thought about it, I’d make myself sick. So yeah, I couldn’t win. And I can relate.”
He stares at me for a moment. “Am I doing the right thing, Tiffy? If I take this offer?”
I look out at the lake now, thinking about how I got here. Not here on the beach, but here, this moment in time. “It’s opening night tonight.”
“I know,” he says with a sigh. “I’ve been seeing the promos everywhere.”