The Reunion(113)

Ford smiles. “Well, we have money, after all.”

“You do,” Palmer says.

“You have money too,” I say. “You just haven’t gotten it yet.”

“What?” she says, looking confused.

“When you turn thirty, there’s a trust fund waiting for you. Did you really forget about that?”

Palmer looks between the two of us. “I thought . . . I thought that was lost with the fire. Like, they had to use it to recover.”

“Who did you hear that from?” Ford asks.

“I don’t know; I thought Mom said it, or—”

“I said it,” I say. “I was pissed at you; I offhandedly said it while talking to Dealia, knowing full well you could hear me.” I shake my head. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Palmer.”

“But . . .” She looks so confused. “You mean there’s still money there for me to invest?”

“It’s still there,” I say.

“I don’t deserve that money.”

Ford lifts her chin. “Before the fire, you worked your ass off in the store, and if I have it my way, you’re going to continue to work your ass off.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

Ford takes a deep breath, clear eyed, focused. It’s two in the morning, and we haven’t slept a wink, haven’t even considered it. We’ve bounced from room to room, sharing memories. Reconnecting. Talking about life. “I need your help,” Ford says. “I thought I could do this on my own, but with Dad retiring, I’ve felt lost. I’ve had Larkin, but there’s only so much I can burden her with. I need you both to carry on the legacy. I can’t do it without you. I don’t want to do it without you.”

“What are you saying?” Palmer asks as hope springs in my chest.

“What would you think about . . . I don’t know, working for the company?”

“In what capacity?” I ask.

Ford drags his hand over his face. “I don’t know. I would love to hear what your thoughts would be, what you would want to do.” He glances down at his hands and says, “All I’ve ever done with you two is dictate, tell you what to do. Being the older brother, I thought that was my job, but now, I want to hear what you two think, what you believe would help the company, help me.”

I glance at Palmer, whose lips are turning up in a smile.

“Didn’t think I would ever hear him say that.”

I laugh. “You and me both.”

“Hey now,” Ford says. “Take it easy on me, okay? This is all new to me, but after coming to Marina Island, there is one thing I know to be certain: I can’t do this on my own, and not only do I need your help, but I want it. I want both of you by my side. So let me hear it—what do you want to do?”

I rub my hands together. “I would love to have a creative role in the company. Help with branding and work with merchandizing the store brand. And honestly, after speaking with Larkin and seeing the kind of knowledge she has, I think you should have her in a different position. She’s too advanced to be your assistant.”

Ford scrapes the side of his cheek. “You’re right. On both accounts. You would be wonderful in branding and merchandizing, from the brief glimpse of what you’ve shown me. And Larkin needs to spread her wings, do more.”

“She should do something with purchasing,” Palmer says. “She’s always had a keen eye for the latest and greatest equipment and apparel.”

Ford nods. “You’re right, Palmer.” He then tilts his head and studies her. “What about you?”

Shyly, she says, “Well, you know, your social media presence could have a lot more appeal, and I happen to have a lot of experience in that department.”

“That you do,” Ford says. “That would be an ideal position for you. And that would make you happy?”

“I think so.” I bite down on my bottom lip as Beau crosses my mind.

Ford seems to read me well because he says, “You could work remotely, from Marina Island.” When I give him a confused look, he says, “Tell me if I’m wrong, but I think you need roots. You need your family, and your family is here, in the PNW. What better way to highlight the store and the brand, the experience, than where it first started? Plus, it might give you the chance to patch things up with Beau . . . that’s if it’s something you’re interested in.”

She sheepishly smiles. “I do. I like him a lot.”

“Well, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Seriously?”

Ford nods his head. “Seriously.”

Palmer throws her arms around him while I give him a pat on the back. “You might regret this later, when we’re constantly up your ass,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Nah, this is exactly what I need.” And then he pulls me into a hug as well. We stay like that for a few seconds before he releases us, his eyes misty. “Okay, we have a party to plan, money to spend, and people to win back. Think we can do it in the next . . . twelve hours?”

We all exchange glances and nod.

We got this.





CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR





LARKIN


Pound. Pound. Pound.