Dane's Storm(13)

My shoulders slumped. That felt accurate, figuratively anyway. And I did feel dead inside. I felt desperate and miserable and without hope. I held the door open wider indicating he should come in. He did, wiping his feet on the mat, and then taking off his coat and hanging it on the coat tree.

He followed me into my living room, and I noticed the small, confused frown on his face. “Not what you pictured?” I asked.

“No, not even close. I didn’t realize you had this . . . uh, side to you.”

I sat on the worn couch, not able to help the small laugh that bubbled up my throat. “There are lots of sides to me, Jay.”

“Hmm,” he said, giving what I knew was an ugly, mostly depressing room one more glance.

I brought my legs under me. “I grew up here. It was my grandparents’ home, and when my mom left, my dad and I moved in with them. My grandfather died when I was nine, and my grandmother passed away when I was twelve. After that, it was just me and my dad. The place hasn’t been redecorated since the nineties, but my dad was disabled and there wasn’t a lot of money, and recently, I’ve been putting every dime I have into the business. So”—I waved my hand around—“this is where I live. Home sweet home.”

Jay regarded me, a slight look of surprise on his face. “Do you mind me asking how your dad was disabled?” He posed the question softly, the look on his face hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping a boundary.

I sighed, feeling a brief stab of guilt that I’d been such a standoffish friend in many ways, while Jay had always been an open book. “My mom and dad married young and had me right before my dad shipped off to the Gulf War. He suffered a traumatic brain injury and lost one of his legs. I don’t remember him before, but according to my grandmother, when he came back he was . . . very different, a shell of himself, really.” I sighed again. “My mom couldn’t handle it and just . . . left. Left us here. After my grandparents died, I was all he had.” I lapsed into silence and Jay stared at me for several beats.

“That’s the most information you’ve given me about your background since we met.”

I breathed out a humorless laugh. “I know I’m not the most forthcoming person. My past is . . . difficult for me to talk about.” Difficult for me to think about.

He nodded. “And it’s your past that’s back to haunt you.”

“Yes,” I sighed. “It seems my past has collided with what I hoped was my future,” I said in a whispery rush of words, misery overcoming me once again. Jay tilted his head, waiting for me to continue. “As you read in the letter from her attorneys, my ex-husband’s grandmother is trying to take the building from me, and it looks like she might succeed.”

Jay’s brows furrowed as he sat back, bringing one ankle up on his opposite knee. “How long have you been divorced?”

I shook my head, glancing away for a moment. “Seven years. I was eighteen when we married, and barely twenty when we divorced. It was practically over before it began. I was a stupid kid who didn’t understand how life really worked.”

“Okay. So how exactly is your ex-grandmother trying to take the building?”

“My ex-husband comes from an extremely wealthy family. Old money, but new money too. Each generation has figured out how to contribute in some meaningful way and expand the family fortune. Before we married, his grandmother talked me into signing a prenup. I was young, na?ve. I thought we’d last forever so what did it matter what I signed?” I took a deep breath, attempting to push back the emotions that talking of that time brought up for me. “Dane purchased the building on Providence Parkway right before we were married, with the intention of gifting it to me so I could start the business I’d always dreamed of running. It was his wedding gift to me, and we put my name on it, but not until after we were married.”

I glanced at Jay, and he had put his foot on the floor and was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he listened attentively.

“When we were in the process of divorcing, Dane offered to put some money aside for me despite the agreement. I refused, telling him I only wanted the building, nothing more. He agreed, and as far as I was concerned, that was that.” I cringed, shaking my head at my own na?veté. “It was a painful time. I wasn’t thinking clearly, I suppose, but what in the world could his family want with a rundown building on the edge of town anyway?”

“What do they want with it?”

“Apparently, a big industrial park is going in and they’ve already bought up the surrounding businesses.”

“For what? To sell them for profit?”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

“So, what were previously rundown buildings on the edge of town have become premium real estate.”

I sighed. “I suppose. Only the Townsend family is already richer than God. I don’t get it.”

Jay shook his head. “Rich people are never rich enough. According to them.”

I bit at my lip. “I guess. Only . . . Luella Townsend has always hated me. I never imagined she’d still feel that after all this time.”

His expression was somber. “She’s a powerful enemy to have. I looked her up. From what I could find online, she’s practically royalty here in Colorado. Why does she hate you?”

“She always has. I thought it had to do with the fact that we didn’t have much money and she viewed me as some little gold digger trying to steal her grandson and his fortune. Even after I signed the prenup, though, she never thawed. And apparently, her disdain for me is alive and well. I went to see her at her country club and she was as heartless as ever.”