Landlord Wars(37)

“But I haven’t even been here a year,” I said, still unable to believe his words. Was I the only one thinking logically?

“And every client we have asks for you,” he pointed out.

He was flattering me. Maybe. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that he was offering me a golden opportunity. “I love the idea. I’m just not confident I can do it.”

“I know it’s a lot, but think about it, okay?” He looked down at his phone, which had begun to ring nonstop. “I’ll have my lawyer draft a business proposal. There’s no rush. If today hadn’t been so chaotic, I would have taken you out to lunch to discuss it. But”—he crossed his eyes comically—“things didn’t go according to plan.”

I chuckled. “I will consider it. And no matter what I decide, thank you, Victor. It’s a huge honor that you’d think of me.”

He grinned. “If I’d had a daughter, I would have wanted her to be as smart and tenderhearted as you, Sophia. Instead, I have an incredible son, who sadly works as an engineer.” He shook his head. “How did an artist produce an engineer?”

No one was more committed to their son than Victor, no matter how much he poked fun. He talked lovingly of his son and his son’s long-term girlfriend nearly every day, and I was fortunate to have Victor rooting for me too.

I never had time to think about how much I missed my dad. I’d hit the ground running to help my mom, and I never stopped. But times like this killed me in all the best ways, reminding me how much I missed having a father and how lucky I was to have people like Victor in my life.

I reached over and hugged him.

He gave me a tight squeeze before pulling back and shouting at workers near the front door, “Hey, hey, not there!”

He shook his head, holding up his phone and showing me six phone calls he’d missed during the few minutes we’d spoken. “These knuckleheads. I better do a better job of taking over James’s coordinating. In the meantime, would you be able to run one errand? I wouldn’t normally ask on your day off, but this is a top-tier client who reached out. Can’t say no when influential people come a-calling.”

“Gosh, no,” I said. “Half of the business I’ve brought in has been through word of mouth from large clients I’ve acquired. Word of mouth is everything. What’s the address?”





Max





My mother rarely called me to the house, but today she had insisted.

I let myself into the mansion on Franklin Street and made my way to her private salon. Dozens of priceless paintings covered the paneled wood-and-fabric walls, and there had to be an equal amount of art spread over the furniture in the large room. Every table held marble and fine-jeweled curios, along with silver and crystal serving wear. The furniture was upholstered in bright shades and patterns, with pillows to match. Some might call it high style; I called it blinding.

Expecting a pitch to invest in my father’s development project, I searched the room for my mother. But she wasn’t the only person here today.

My mother didn’t immediately catch sight of me—not with my entrance on the far end. And not with all the commotion.

A woman, bent at the waist, was dragging a plant twice her size slowly across the floor, scraping the pot noisily against the hardwood. “Over here?” she asked in a lightly winded but familiar voice.

I looked sharply at my mother standing in front of floor-to-ceiling paned windows, heat spiraling up my neck

“I changed my mind,” my mother said, tapping her lip, focused on the circus she’d created and not my presence. “I’d like it on the other side of the room.”

Unable to stand it any longer, I said, “What is going on?”

My mother spun her head in my direction, her face brightening at the same time Sophia’s head snapped up and her lips parted in surprise.

Sophia’s light-pink blouse featured a dirt smudge down the front, and my blood boiled. No telling how long my mother had enslaved her with a half-dead sixty-pound plant inside the ancestral home.

Had my mother sniffed out my interest in Jack’s roommate? I wouldn’t be surprised if Kitty had hired a private investigator to look into my personal life. She was a wily one, and she wanted me to marry a society woman.

“Maxwell, you’ve arrived,” my mother said, her gaze sliding to the far corner of the room—where Gwen was sitting primly on a robin’s-egg-blue velvet couch, sipping coffee from hundred-year-old china.

“Max,” Gwen said and set her drink on the mahogany table that had been in this room since I was a toddler. My mother wasn’t a hoarder, per se, like Sophia’s mom, but she had her share of clutter. Just really expensive clutter.

Gwen glanced at Sophia, who quickly brushed soil from her hands, avoiding my eyes. “Josie Gates hired Green Aesthetic, and she raved about their design,” Gwen said. “I forwarded the tip to your mother.” She smiled at my mom. “Aren’t they just fabulous, Kitty? They even move plants during a consult.”

Sophia turned away as though ashamed.

Disgust and rage coursed through me. Gwen’s actions were somewhat surprising, but not entirely. My mother’s, however, were more so, and I’d never been more ashamed.

Moving plants was not a part of Sophia’s job duties. But my mother never thought about things like that, and neither did Gwen, which I’d realized too late in our relationship.