Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(17)

It was never easy to hear the same, bitter story. Too young and poor to start a family, her parents had divorced before Bev was in preschool.

“What happened with Ellen? Everyone talks about her like she's pure evil or something, but she was even younger than Mom.”

“Took her father's side. Called Gail a slut, hid in her room, didn't unlock the front door.”

“But she was just a teenager,” Bev said.

Her father shrugged. “Whole family loves to nurse a grudge.”

Sadly, it was true. Bev didn't understand it—why fight with the only family you'd ever have? “He left me a picture of my grandmother, through the lawyer.”



“Sounded like a nice lady,” Anderson said. “I bet he didn’t appreciate her any more than he appreciated your mother, or you and Andy.”

Or Kate, she thought, though Anderson didn’t know Bev’s half-sister very well. “But he did leave her the house. And, of course, left me the company.”

He dropped the remains of his burrito on the plate. “And for Andy? The one who could actually do something with a business? No, Bev. He was just stirring up trouble, probably to teach Ellen a lesson. Make her work for it a little harder. If he could have figured out a way to prevent you from profiting in the end, he would have.”

Bev looked away, out to the parking lot where a woman was strapping a pug into an infant car seat. “Why do you think I couldn’t do it?”

“Know what? I’m getting Andy on the phone.” He pulled out his cell and slid his thumb over the screen. “First you’re mad because you think I want you to go into business, and now you’re mad I don’t.”

“I just wonder why you think I can’t. Like it’s totally impossible or something.”

He wasn’t listening. “Sorry to bother you, son. Got Bev here. She’s having delusions of grandeur. Fashion executive. Yeah, I know—” he paused, listening, and raised his eyebrows at Bev. “She’s sitting right in front of me.” He held out the phone.

Bev frowned and made no move to take it. “I didn’t say that.”

Anderson jabbed the phone at her. “Listen to your brother.”

Listen, not talk. She took it. “Hi Andy.” A couple years older, Andy had grown up cheerfully protecting her from all the insults and disappointments of life. She’d been quiet and sensitive; he’d been loud and tough. They were a balanced pair. Sometimes it had worked too well, locking them into habits with each other that were hard to change.

“Hey,” Andy said. “Are you nuts?”

“Dad’s got it all wrong,” she said. “I was only talking about my options.”

“One of those being nuts?”

“Andy,” she said, then raised her voice to be heard over the yelling she heard on her brother’s end of the line. “You sound busy. Dad shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“I thought you liked teaching.”

“Of course I like teaching,” she said. “Dad shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“The fashion industry isn’t as glamorous as it sounds, you know. I know how you love clothes, but apparently it’s not so fun making a living at it.”

“Actually, Andy,” she said, “I’ve been there. Just last week, actually.”

“I heard. I thought you sold out to Ellen.”

She hesitated. “I am—I was—oh, Andy, I don’t know. Some of those people seemed so . . . eager to have an outsider come in.” She turned her thoughts away from one eager person in particular.

Andy snorted. “So you are considering it.”

“I’m not delusional.” She glared at her father on the other side of the table. “I feel guilty. Not about Grandfather, but about everyone in that company. It’s not the happiest place in the world. And you’ve heard the stories about Aunt Ellen.”

He exhaled into the phone. “You’re running away from something. What happened?”

“Nothing.” She listened to her brother’s silent disbelief for three long seconds, then got to her feet and walked out of the restaurant. Out on the sidewalk, with her back to her father inside, she said, “Dad shouldn’t have called you.”

“I know you, Bev. Something happened, and now you’re running away from it. Boyfriend problems? Mean boss?”

“That is not it.” She wandered away from her father’s gaze to stand in front of a manicurist next door. “Actually, I need to find a new job.”

“Aha,” he said.

“I was fired.”

“And now you doubt yourself and want to throw away your entire career at the first setback.”

“I’m not throwing anything away.” It was she who’d been chucked. “It’s too late for me to find a permanent teaching position for the fall anyway. Like it or not, I am available to deal with Fite, and they just might need me.”

“You can’t do what other people need. You have to do what’s right for you.” His voice softened. “You love teaching. You’ve stood up to Dad’s bitching about it for years, which was great. I always backed you up there.”

“Maybe this is what I need.” Bev took a deep breath. “Did you know I made more money typing W-2’s into a computer last summer as a temp than I did educating children? Hilda paid more than most, but it was probably still less than you pay your secretary—administrative assistant—whatever.”