Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(79)

“A word, Becker?”

My head popped up at the sound of Mac’s voice, and now he was playing the same game I had been, looking at his clipboard like he was on a tight schedule and I was just a stop along the way.

“Yes, sir. Of course. Do you want me in your office?”

“No, this is fine,” he said, closing the door behind him. He sat his clipboard on my desk, taking the seat opposite me. For a long while, he just looked at me — as if he were truly seeing me for the first time since I’d worked there. Then, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want to apologize for what happened at the Christmas party. None of us were expecting that, least of all me, but when my brother makes up his mind… well…” He shrugged, folding his hands in his lap. “I guess I don’t need to tell you that there’s no arguing with him.”

I didn’t answer. I had nothing to say.

“Anyway, I came in here today to tell you that we spoke this weekend,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. Mac was one of those men who was easy to read. He always had been. I knew when he was lying, because he could never look you in the eye when he did, and he fidgeted uncontrollably. “I argued that Mallory wasn’t ready for a leadership position, and after much convincing, he agreed. So, we’re offering the management role to you.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re… what?”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” he said, cocking a brow. “I think everyone in this town knows the position is rightfully yours.”

I swallowed. “But, they announced at the party that the position was Mallory’s.”

“Are you deaf, son? Did you not just hear me?”

“I did,” I assured him, shaking my head — because it didn’t make sense. Patrick Scooter didn’t go back on his decisions, especially once he’d announced them to the entire town. “I’m sorry, sir. I guess I’m just a little confused.”

“Yes, well, that makes two of us,” he murmured, standing. Apparently, the conversation was done. “Anyway, we’ve got about a month before I’m trading in this name tag for a life of golfing and fishing. So, we have work to do. Have Joseph take your tours today. I want you to figure out a transition plan, and then set up time for us to train.”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded, but before he could make his way out the door, I called after him.

“Mac?”

“Hmm?”

I swallowed. “What does this mean for Mallory? I mean… is she… is she taking my spot, or?”

Mac shrugged. “Apparently, she’s not working here at all anymore. Once she found out we were giving you the position, Patrick said she quit. And is selling her studio, too, I guess. Said she’s done with this town, that she’s leaving and never coming back.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand that niece of mine. Go through all that trouble to buy and build a studio, have a grand opening, just to shut it down a week later?” He scoffed. “This is why women shouldn’t run businesses. Too emotional, you know?”

I kept my mouth shut, offering him an awkward smile and a nod before he let himself out of my office. When I was alone again, I blew out a breath, mind racing as I tried to piece it all together.

Patrick Scooter would never go back on a decision he’d made. Never. Not without there being a very good reason.

And Mallory wouldn’t give up her studio — not after all she’d done to bring that dream to life.

Something was off. Something was wrong.

I put an out of office email up before I stood, swiping my jacket off the back of my chair and practically running back out to my truck. Mac wouldn’t miss me for a day, not if this really was the new direction we were going. Hell, I could make a transition and training plan in an hour.

And I needed to find out what the hell was going on.

I needed to find her.

If what Mac said was true, and the studio was being sold, I didn’t have a clue where to find her. That was her place — her home, her getaway, her sanctuary. I didn’t know where to even start, aside from hunting down her best friend, Chris. Maybe he’d tell me where she was.

Then again, maybe he’d spit in my face. After the way I’d talked to Mallory, I deserved it.

My stomach twisted into a tight knot as I threw my truck in drive and peeled out of the parking lot, wondering what had happened, what Mallory’s father had done.

Suddenly, the only thing that mattered was making sure she was safe.

And finding her before she left Stratford — and me — forever.





Mallory


Crying was disgusting.

I remembered now why I had avoided it at all costs during my adult life. I was snotting all over myself, my eyes were red and puffy, lashes wet and clouding my vision as I added in the final details to the painting I’d been working on all day. I kept wiping my nose on the back of my wrist because I was too engrossed in what I was creating to get up and get a tissue, and besides, what did it matter? I was alone in the half-empty studio that would soon be completely bare again, just like I’d found it, and then auctioned off to the highest bidder.

I knew I looked like a complete wreck in my baggy black sweatpants and oversized Nine Inch Nails t-shirt, my hair piled on top of my head, and now, an ugly cry face, too. At least I hadn’t bothered to put on makeup, so there was no scary mascara streaking down my face.