“Just looking out for my clients’ best interests.” He checks his phone again. “I really need to go. It was a pleasure seeing you again.”
“Sure,” I say, but he’s already gone. He probably didn’t even hear me.
I watch him negotiate his way around the tables, his perfectly tailored suit fit snugly to his athletic frame. I so prefer the look of the rocker I hung out with last night to this stiff and boring butthead. I’m sure they pay him a ton of money, but he is a terrible liar. I hope he doesn’t work for them in the courtroom.
I don’t bother finishing my tea. I only agreed to drink it because he wanted to have a chat. Instead, I stand and walk out of the hotel, keeping my eyes peeled for that person Lister supposedly wasn’t here to meet. I don’t see him anywhere, so I go out to the curb and text Mr. Blake to ask him to come and get me. I only have to wait five minutes and he’s there, stepping out and opening the door for me. I wish my day hadn’t turned so completely gray before I got into this car, because being with Mister Stiff Neck certainly isn’t going to change things.
“Hello there, Mr. Blake.”
“Hello, Ms. Fields.” He makes sure I’m in the car with the door shut and then gets into the driver’s seat, shifting the car into drive and waiting for his moment to pull into traffic.
I hand him a piece of paper with the address for the first salon on it. “How is your family doing?”
“They are well, thank you.” I see him glance down at the passenger side of the front seat before he goes back to checking his side mirror.
As the car pulls away from the curb, I pull myself forward and look around the headrest. There’s a drawing on the seat next to Mr. Blake made with crayon—a few rough scribbles in red and green. There’s a pattern to the patches of color . . . green on top in slightly triangular shapes, red squares under, and something jagged above the green triangles. It looks like the work of a two-year-old, but my suspicions tell me the artist is a bit older than that.
“I like your artwork,” I say, sitting back and studying the side of his face, trying to read his expression.
He doesn’t say anything and his face is so stern, it reminds me of one of those carved African tribal masks.
“Did Lolly draw that pretty picture?”
“She did.” Life returns to his countenance as his jaw bounces out several times.
“Ah. Getting ready for Christmas early, I see.”
His face twists with the emotions he’s trying not to expose. “Yes.”
I look out my window to my left. “My sister is doing the same thing right now, guaranteed. She gets ready really early. Always has. We start seeing red and green even before Halloween.”
“It’s Lolly’s favorite holiday.” He whispers something that sounds like holly-day under his breath as his hands squeeze the steering wheel over and over rhythmically.
I think about that for a few seconds. Lolly. Holly. “Is Lolly short for lollipop or holiday?”
Mr. Blake pulls up to a red light and looks at me in the mirror. “How could you possibly know that?”
I shrug. “I didn’t. I just guessed.”
A few minutes of silence pass before Mr. Blake speaks again. He says one word: “Gerald.”
I sit there blinking for a few seconds before the meaning sinks in. Then my heart feels like it’s expanding to twice its size inside my chest. “Nice to meet you, Gerald. Feel free to call me Amber.”
“I prefer to keep things more formal,” he says gruffly. In that moment, he reminds me a little bit of Ty . . . the beautiful man who confessed to me that he’s not comfortable with feeling emotion but managed to do it with me anyway. It creates a feeling of kinship with my driver that I sure as heck never expected to experience. New York City is just chock-full of surprises, and damn, I think I actually like it. I like never knowing what crazy thing is going to happen next.
I can’t help but beam with happiness. I’m breaking down barriers all over the place, kicking ass and taking names. “That’s cool, Mr. Blake. I can hang with formal.”
I catch his smile in the rearview mirror and notice that he doesn’t bother to wipe it away.
And just like that, my gray skies turn blue.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
After chatting with the hairdresser and securing an evening appointment tomorrow for the entire band, I finally have time to talk to my sisters. I press the speed dial button and pray they’ll pick up as I walk down the sidewalk. Mr. Gerald Blake is on his way back to the Four Seasons alone; I need some time to get my head straight.
“Hello?”
“Rose? Is that you?”
“Yes! Amber, I’m so glad you called. I was starting to get worried about you.”
“Why? I’m fine.”
“Because . . . you haven’t called in a while, and I know you have a lot of news.”
“You’re right. I do.” I fill her in on the details, including the fact that the band is about to start their makeover tomorrow.
“That’s pretty amazing that you were able to get them appointments in one day. I thought those New York hairdressers had waiting lists.”
“This one does, but when you walk in and say you need to get a bunch of celebrity haircuts, the waiting list gets a lot shorter. Normally, they close at eight o’clock at night, but tomorrow they’re staying open until midnight to get them done.”
“What time are you going in?”
“Our appointment is for nine. I figure it’ll take about a half hour or forty-five minutes per haircut.”
“It sounds like you’re really getting things done over there.”
“Why do you sound like you’re not happy about that?” I stop at the corner of the street, waiting for the little man to turn white. Several people gather around me doing the same thing. I let my hair fall over my phone and pull my arms in closer to me. I doubt this is going to make my conversation any more private, but I have to at least try to keep the entire world from hearing my business.
“I’m happy for you. But you know I worry.”
“What are you worried about? If you tell me, maybe I could put your mind at ease.”
She sighs. “Nothing in particular. I just want to be sure you’re okay. I feel bad that we sent you down there all by yourself.”
“You have nothing to worry about. I’m happy, I promise.” It’s when I say this that I realize that I really am enjoying myself. I feel capable and respected. My family feels this way about the work I do at the farm, but it’s not the same. The work I’m doing here makes me feel that way about myself. “So far everybody has been very nice to me. I think the guys in the band are trying extra hard. I’m pretty sure if I weren’t related to any of them, they would’ve told me to go pound sand by now.”
She laughs. “Are you giving them a hard time?”
“Not on purpose. But I guess I am telling them some hard truths.”
“I know that Em would really like to hear what you have to say. She’s not here right now, though.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s out in the barn, painting.”
My heart leaps for my sister. “This is a good thing, right?”
“I think so. I haven’t seen what she’s working on, but it’s been a while.”
“I know. It’s her way of expressing herself, and I was concerned she was going to stop altogether.”
“She’s been out there pretty much since you left.”
A little guilt niggles at my heart. “Is it because of me? Is she upset?”
“I don’t think so. I think she’s a little concerned about you, like I am, but it’s nothing serious.”
“Will you tell her to call me when she gets in?”
“Sure. So, tell me . . . when are we going to see you?”
“In two weeks.” The first few times I thought about this time period, it seemed long. Today, not so much. I fear it’s going to fly by. “Today was my first day. Em told me that I have an open airline ticket waiting for me, so as
soon as I’m finished here, I’ll be on a plane coming home.”
“Well, I’ll believe that when I see it.” I can hear a smile in her voice.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Em and I have been talking, and we think it’s possible that you might want to stay there a little bit longer.”
“What makes you say that?” My sisters have always been very good at reading me. Are they right about me this time? Do I want to stay here longer than two weeks? If they are right, that would really suck, because in order for my life to continue without conflict, I need to go back to the farm where I belong and be good with that. I can’t be there, wishing I were here, and I can’t be here while my entire family is wishing I were there. It sounds like a recipe for heartache to me.
“I don’t know . . . ,” Rose says. “Maybe a certain handsome guitar player might have something to do with it?”
My face is suddenly burning with the memories of Ty naked flashing across my mind. I drop my voice to make sure that none of my fellow pedestrians will hear me as we cross the street. “I can’t talk about it now, but I do have a lot to tell you.”
“Did you have sex?”
I bark out a laugh. She sounds way too excited about the idea. “Maybe.”
“I knew it! Em owes me a dollar.”
“I cannot believe you guys are betting on my sex life.”
“Hey, you know how boring it gets out here. What else are we supposed to do? We’re living vicariously through you.”
“You don’t have to do that. You could just come here and live it with me.”
“I can’t speak for Em, but I know I can’t do that right now. If you decide to stay there for longer than two weeks, I might come for a visit, but for now I’m just too busy at the clinic.”
I’m walking rapidly, in a hurry to get back to my hotel so that I can come up with the rest of my game plan for the band. “I’m not going to stay here past two weeks. I’m telling you; it’s just a temporary job.” I’m going to tell myself that as often as necessary, so that when the time comes for me to leave, I won’t be tempted to ask for more. This is a two-week time-out from my real life. Rose says she’s living vicariously through me, and I’m right there with her; I’m living vicariously through myself. For this short period of time, I’m no longer Amber Fields of Glenhollow Farms . . . I’m Amber Fields, personal consultant to Red Hot, currently living in Manhattan. I wish the latter description didn’t fill me with quite so much excitement. It’s going to suck saying goodbye to this life.
“Okay, whatever you say.” Rose sighs. “I need to get going; I have a patient waiting for me.”
“Why do I get the impression that you’re not hearing me when I tell you that I’m coming home in two weeks?”
She’s silent for a few seconds before she answers. “This might sound crazy to you, but Em and I both think that you’re suited to the job you’re doing right now.”
“In what way?” I’m a glutton for punishment. I’ve asked my sister to tell me why I’m good at the thing I can’t do after these two weeks are up, so I can live with even more regret after I get back to my real life.
“You’re a problem solver. And once you make up your mind to do something, nothing gets in your way. That kind of person is invaluable in business. I think your talents are underutilized out here on the farm.”
Her words, while meant to be complimentary, not only make me feel like I’m going to have a heart attack—because they hit so close to the thoughts I’ve been having myself—but they also hurt my feelings. “I thought you liked living with me and working at the farmers’ market together.”
“Of course I do. Don’t be a brat. All I’m trying to say is that someone as smart as you and as talented as you are could do a lot of great things in a big city like Manhattan. You know where we come from . . . Our mothers spent the best years of their lives traveling with that band, so there must be something special about them. You’ve been given a huge opportunity to figure out what that is and maybe experience some of it for yourself. I think it would be a big mistake for you to miss out on that.”
“But what about you guys?”
“What about us?”
“Don’t you want the same thing for yourselves?” Maybe what I’m feeling is just a natural reaction to the situation. We’ve always wondered about our fathers, and now I’m being given the chance to learn all I want.
“Heck no. I have zero interest in solving anyone’s problems unless they involve an injured animal. And you know as well as I do that Em would rather shave her head bald than put herself in the public eye. She has said on more than one occasion how happy she is that she doesn’t have to go to the city to deal with this stuff.”
“Who says I’m going to be in the public eye?” I hate that my pulse is quickening in excitement over the idea. I need to be happy living on the farm, not feeling like I’m missing out on a great life here.
“Don’t even try to pretend the idea doesn’t thrill you. Amber, you were meant to be a decision maker, a doer, a problem solver. It’s who you are, fundamentally, as a person. Why deny it? You know it’s true.”
I’m almost to the hotel; I can see it up ahead. I stop so that I can finish our conversation before I get there. I’m standing in the middle of the sidewalk while people walk around me, with thoughts, feelings, and dreams swirling around inside my head. Rose has said things I never imagined someone in my family would say. All this time I thought they’d accepted and agreed with the fact that I needed to be there in order to do my part for the family business. But now to learn that at least one of my sisters thinks I could and should be doing something else with my life? That’s huge. I’m almost afraid to hope it’s real.
“I think you’re right.” My heart aches. I feel disloyal to my mothers, the women who sacrificed so much to raise my sisters and me in a safe and private place. “I’m not saying I’m going to stay here for longer than two weeks; I mean, it’s not like I can just abandon my hives and my family. But this does feel like the right thing to be doing. And I really am enjoying myself . . . so far, anyway. Everybody is being really nice to me, and I feel like I’m making a difference.”
“For whom? The band?”
“Yes.” And Ty, but I’m not going to tell her that part. She’ll think I’m attracted to him because he has problems that need solving, but she’d be wrong about that. I love that he’s a challenge, that he wears his moods right there on his sleeve and he doesn’t apologize for it, that he’s a talented artist who’s dedicated himself to music he’s cared about since childhood, that he’s unvarnished and real. Every other guy I’ve known has put on a show, pretended to be something he’s not in an effort to impress me. Ty doesn’t do that. You either take him at face value or not at all, and I do so like that face of his.
“And you’re happy with that? Making a difference for them?” Rose asks.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because when you went out there, your goal was to tell them to go screw themselves, but now you’re working to help them.”
I wish I could read the emotion in her words. “Are you disappointed in me?” Now I feel like crying. Am I a traitor to my sisters and our cause?
“Not at all. There’s a piece of me that might’ve been really satisfied hearing you tell a story about flipping them off and telling them to go have a nice life. But that’s the petty, mean, and small part of me that I’m not very proud of. I’m pretty sure Em feels the same way I do now; we’re both glad that you found a way to put the past behind you and move forward in a positive way. It’s better for everyone and your own personal karma to do that.”
“I haven’t put the past totally behind me. I’m still angry about what they didn’t do. Or what they did. It’s kind of confusing, actually. I don’t have the whole story yet.”
“I’m sure it is confusing. And I think, eventually, you’re going to figure everything out. The important thing to know i
s that we support you and we trust your judgment. I know you’re going to be really busy for the next two weeks, but do your best to keep us posted.”
“I absolutely will. And you guys can call me or text me anytime you want. I’m just running around doing errands and stuff.”
“I’m sure it’s a lot more complicated than running errands, but I hear you. We’ll keep in touch.”
“I love you,” I say, a wave of homesickness washing over me.
“I love you too. If I were standing next to you right now, I would give you the biggest hug and kiss you’ve ever had.”
“And I’d give you one right back. Hug Em for me. I miss you guys so much.”
“You don’t need to miss us because we’re right here. The farm is just a short plane ride away.”
“They said I could use their jet.”
“Wow, that’s pretty generous. Those things aren’t cheap to operate.”
“I know. And I’d feel really guilty taking them up on the offer, but if I get too homesick, I just might.”
“And we will be there to pick you up at the airport, so don’t worry. Now go have fun, would you? If you don’t come home with a ton of really amazing stories about your time in Manhattan, I’m going to be mad at you.”
I laugh. Leave it to Rose to fix things for me. She calls me a problem solver but she is the healer of all wounds. “Okay, I have to go. I’m at the hotel now.”
“Okay. Bye-bye. Have fun!”
“I will.” I’m not going to let the two-week horizon get me down. Rose’s words have given me a lot to think about, and for the first time in forever, I feel really, really excited about my future.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I’m about twenty feet from the front door of the Four Seasons when a woman who I think is going to walk right past me stops and smiles. It’s a little disconcerting, but I sidestep, smile back, and continue on.
“Excuse me . . . ,” she says loudly from behind me.
I pause and turn around. “Yes?”
She’s definitely talking to me; she’s staring right at my face as she positions herself in front of me.