Second Chance (7 page)

They finished eating and Cash helped her clear the dishes, stacking them in the sink. She insisted on doing them later.

“I guess we should get down to business, then,” he said. “Give me a minute—I have the paperwork in my car.”

She rinsed the beer bottles, set them on the counter for recycling, and put the last of the potatoes in a sealed container. She could eat them for lunch tomorrow. Or breakfast.

She waited in the kitchen for a few minutes but Cash didn’t return. She ventured into the living room and found him on her grandmother’s faded blue couch. A briefcase sat on the floor next to his feet and he had a stack of papers in his lap.

He thumbed through them. “You ready?” he asked.

“Sure.” She eased herself onto the couch, hugging the far corner. She’d wanted the comfort of the kitchen, the distance the table provided.

He handed her a stapled set of papers. “These are recent sales. The last six months.”

She looked at them, her eyes widening at the sales prices. Most had sold for over a million dollars.

“Oh my God.”

He nodded. “Yeah. The market is good.”

“You’re telling me this is the kind of money this place is worth?”

He shook his head. “Not quite. The ones that moved at seven figures are homes on double lots or with significantly more square footage. This place is a bit of an anomaly in that it’s a smaller home on the original lot.”

Elle’s visions of a big fat check dwindled. “Oh.”

“But that’s actually going to work in your favor, I think,” he said.

Now she was confused. “How so?”

“Look around,” he said, smiling. “Original structure. Original floors. Original island design on a beachfront lot. A lot of people looking to buy a home on the island don’t want a tear down on a big lot. They want an island home. Like this. There aren’t many left, to be honest. At least not many that are in this kind of shape.” He nodded. “Trust me, if you really want to sell this place, it won’t be a problem and there will be plenty of money in it.”

She leaned back into the couch and a sigh escaped.

“What?” he asked.

She hesitated. “I don’t really want to sell it,” she admitted.

She didn’t want to. Now that she was back in the comfort and familiarity of her grandmother’s house, she wanted it to continue to be there. It belonged in her family.

“So, don’t.”

“Not my choice.”

“Your mother’s?”

Elle nodded.

He smiled, but it looked a bit sour. “I figured.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

He shuffled the papers on the table. “Just sounds like her.”

“And what does that mean, Cash?” she asked.

He dropped the papers and leaned back into the sofa, folding his arms across his chest. He stared at her for a long moment and it took everything in her power to not squirm beneath his gaze.

“I just mean that she’s crazy to sell this place,” he said. “It’s nearly one of a kind. If it were mine, it would never see the market. Not ever.” He paused. “And I know what this house means to you.”

Elle looked away from him. Even after all these years, he still knew her well. Too well.

“So if it were me?” he said. “If this house were mine? And I knew what it meant to you?”

He paused so long she felt compelled to meet his gaze.

A thin smile settled on his face. “I wouldn’t sell it for a billion dollars.”

TEN

Elle forced herself off the couch to retrieve the last two beers and to escape Cash’s penetrating gaze. She couldn’t help it. As soon as he started staring at her, she felt her knees weaken, her heart quicken and her will begin to break.

So she disrupted it by suggesting more beer and bolting for the kitchen.

She lifted the caps off the two bottles, took a deep breath and headed back into the living room.

She handed him one. “Okay. That’s a brilliant answer and really pulls at my heartstrings but you still didn’t answer my question.”

He held the beer to his lips. “What?”

“My mother. You said it sounds like her. Why?”

Now he was the one who seemed uncomfortable and she was glad for the turning of the tables, even if it was just temporary.

He took a long pull from the bottle. “Your mom isn’t exactly a sentimental person.”

Elle couldn’t argue with that. Her mother looked at the past as something that hung over her like an albatross rather than something to find comfort in. No heirlooms, no photographs, no keepsakes. Always moving forward.

“And she always liked money,” Cash continued. “I’m sure she thinks having to take responsibility for this place is a real pain in the ass.”

So far, he’d nailed it perfectly.

“So she’s just looking at it as something she needs to dump,” he said, shrugging. “And making some money in the process.” He took another drink, studied her. “How am I doing so far?”

“Irritatingly accurate,” she answered.

He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. Thought so.” He shook his head. “Hope you didn’t tell her it was me listing the house.”

Elle tilted the bottle in his direction. “As a matter of fact…”

He raised his eyebrows. “And she’s going to let me list it?”

“I talked her into it.”

“I would’ve liked to hear that conversation.” He shook his head. “She never liked me a bit.”

Elle didn’t know what to say to that because it was true. Her mother hadn’t liked Cash, despite the fact that she’d never met him. She didn’t really like anyone, but she’d especially zeroed in on him. Anytime she could, she took a shot at him. Not smart enough. Not rich enough. Never directly, but her mother had always been a master of stinging subtlety. She was more than happy to say “I told you so” when their relationship had dissolved.

“How’d you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Talk her into it,” he said. “From what I recall, your mother is not someone who lets anyone talk her into much of anything.”

She tilted her head to the side, pretending to think about it. “I was…persuasive.”

His smile grew. “Persuasive?”

“Yes. Persuasive.”

He nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. “OK. If you say so.”

“But she does want to see the estimates,” Elle said. “Which is fair since she’s going to be paying the costs. And she’ll want to know what the commission structure is and the listing price.”

“So, I’ll have the pleasure of speaking with her?” His tone indicated there was going to be nothing pleasurable about it.

“No. You give the info to me and I’ll pass it along.”

He made a face like he was surprised, then nodded. “Alright. If you say so.”

They spent fifteen minutes going through the paperwork and Elle signed in all of the appropriate places.

“Let’s hold off on a listing price until the work’s completed,” he said. “I’d like to see what it all looks like before we settle on a number.”

“OK,” she said. “And what about the commission?”

Cash’s cheeks flushed just a bit. “We’ll worry about that later.”

“What?”

He gathered up the papers and slid them into a folder. “I’ll make copies of everything and get them to you tomorrow.”

“Wait, wait.”

“We won’t officially list until the work is done, but I’m going to talk with a few people I know,” he continued. “Let them know it’s coming to start the buzz.”

“Cash.”

He looked at her. “What?”

“Your commission,” she said. “What is it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, frowning. “We’ll figure it out later.”

“No,” she said slowly. “I want to figure it out now.”

He looked annoyed. “Why?”

“Because my mother is going to want to know,” she said.

But that really wasn’t the reason. It was the way he was not wanting to talk about it that raised her antenna. She wasn’t sure why, but there was a reason he was trying to put her off.

“Tell her I’m going to charge a flat fee,” he said. “Not a percentage.”

“Why not a percentage?”

He sighed. “Elle, just trust me.”

“No.”

The word hung in the air between them, heavy and awkward and ugly.

Finally, Cash laughed to himself, shoved the folder in his briefcase and looked at her. “I’m gonna charge you a hundred bucks.”

“What?”

“One. Zero. Zero.”

She stared at him like he’d gone crazy. “I must be misunderstanding something.”

“How bad are you at math?” he asked, squinting at her. “Five twenty dollar bills. Ten tens. A hundred bucks.”

“That’s not a commission,” she said. “That’s…that’s…I don’t know what that is, but that isn’t what a commission is.”

“Well, that’s my fee for this transaction,” he said. “Done deal.”

She shook her head in protest but he silenced her. “It’s in the paperwork,” he said, gesturing at his briefcase. “Done deal.”

Elle stood. “Not a done deal! I’m not stupid. It should be, like, five percent of the selling price. Somewhere in that neighborhood. It should be tens of thousands of dollars, given what you’ve told me we can sell this for.”

“Commission fees are negotiable,” he said, shrugging. “Every deal is different. The transaction fee for this house is a hundred dollars.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Why is it only a hundred bucks?”

He started laughing and it only infuriated her further.

“What exactly is so funny?” she asked.

“I’m trying to give you a hell of a deal here and you’re fighting me on it,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m trying to help and you’re fighting me. Stop.”

“
You
stop,” she said, pointing at him. “Stop being so…
you
! I don’t need charity. I just need you to sell the house and to treat me like a normal client.”

He stared at her for a moment, his laughter dying. Then he picked up his briefcase, gripped it tight in his hand. He walked to the door, stopped and turned around. He leveled his eyes on her.

“Trust me, it’s not charity. The fee is a hundred bucks,” he repeated. “Non-negotiable. You already signed the paperwork. I’m the official listing agent on the property. You’d have to wait five months before you could re-list with someone else.” He paused. “And you aren’t a normal client.”

“Why the hell not?” she said, completely inflamed.

He smiled. “Because I never loved any of my other clients.”

ELEVEN

Elle sank back on to the couch, cradling her head in her hand. Cash’s words echoed over and over.

I never loved any of my other clients
.

She closed her eyes. Why was he bringing it up now? Why, after all the years of not communicating, of acting like she’d fallen off the face of the earth, was he bringing it up?

She shook her head. This was the one thing she didn’t want this summer. She’d needed to come to Keefer Island for a whole myriad of reasons, but Cash Brady hadn’t been one of them. She knew the ghost of his memory might haunt her and had prepared herself for that. There were too many memories on the island that included him. Making her plans to come for the summer, she’d reluctantly accepted the fact that he might still be here, that she might have to see him, make pleasantries with him. But to have him inserted so completely back into her life? She didn’t need that. She didn’t want that.

She thought back to that distant summer, the summer she’d last seen him. He’d been the one to walk away from their relationship all those years ago. Not her. Sure, she’d left the island. She’d had to. It was the summer before her senior year. But she remembered with aching clarity the last few nights they’d spent together. The whispered promises.

She’d believed him. She’d believed him when he told her he loved her, when he said he’d wait for her to come back. They were going to choose a college to attend together, some place close to the island. He’d talked about coming to visit over Christmas break. They’d made plans for the following summer, the summer after graduation. He had her phone number, he had her address.

And when she’d left that morning, twelve years ago on that last day of August, he’d held her in his arms and murmured “I love you.” His fingers had gently traced the amethyst heart ring he’d given her, the ring that she’d worn on her right hand. A promise ring, he’d told her. Not of marriage—they were too young for that—but a promise of things to come. Their future.

It was a future that had never happened.

Because Elle had flown home to Wisconsin and had never heard from him again.

She felt the tears threaten and blinked rapidly, trying to stem them. She took a deep breath, trying to get control of her emotions. She’d spent far too much time crying over Cash Brady. She wasn’t going to start again now.