Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(56)
“Don’t depend on them liking you, Bev. It’s not enough, and it never lasts.”
“I thought you weren’t going to fight me anymore.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” He ran his hand through his hair. “I spent all of this morning and all day yesterday trying to save you. I tried to postpone the meeting. I bought some samples, made a few boards, sketched out a few ideas for you to present, but you barged ahead with—with—”
He spent all that time trying to help her? She put her hand on her chest, uneasy with how much that affected her. “Cookies,” she said quietly.
“Which isn’t going to help you where you need it most. But you don’t want my help. I don’t even want to give it. So I won’t try.”
“And where do you think I need help the most? It’s true I don’t know apparel, which is why I snatched up Rachel.”
“Rachel won’t be enough. What are you going to do when they find out you think exercise is for losers? Think they’ll love you then?”
Bev took a step back. “I don’t think exercise is—” She stopped herself. “It’s just not for me.”
“Then they’ll wonder why you think owning Fite is.” He walked out.
Chapter 13
For the next couple of weeks Liam stayed away from her, hearing through the unavoidable gossip that Rachel had announced her future move and Darrin would be gaining not just one, but two new assistants, which led Jennifer to throw a tantrum in the middle of Engineering until one of the patternmakers tapped her on the shoulder to share gossip she’d heard, about Jennifer getting not only a new assistant but a promotion to Creative Director, too.
Soon even George will be a VP.
He started hearing about meetings—not that Bev called them that, but they were meetings nonetheless—gatherings with Bev and designers and patternmakers and cutters and assistants at all levels where she didn’t seem to do anything at all, but then paperwork was changed, and sketches revised, and color palettes tweaked.
Bev made her mark in her smiling, underhanded way, and Liam clenched his fists and watched. Waiting.
When a Saturday morning rolled around, Liam had made plans to get far, far away from his dilemma in San Francisco. Just after seven a.m., Liam slipped into his mother’s house in Oakland to round up the last of his backpacking gear and drag his brother off for a much-needed jaunt in the fashion-free wilderness. The house was already alive with music and spinning blenders. Not a rolling rack in sight.
“Morning, Mom,” he said to her, kissing her soft cheek while she played the theme to “Hill Street Blues” on the piano. The small, lopsided upright was shoved up against the picture window overlooking the bay. He paused to listen, letting the notes chip away at his worries. Then, as he often did, he leaned down to say in her ear, “Please let me buy you the grand, Crazy Lady. You’re wasting yourself on this stack of kindling.”
In reply, she switched from TV to Mendelssohn—the wedding march.
“Dad would have wanted you to get a new piano,” he said, and she switched back to her original piece. Though he didn’t know if that was true. His father had been a difficult man. A man who’d demanded unreasonable loyalty and had the power of personality to get it. “We can put this one in the corner or something. Not get rid of it.”
Mark walked in with a pair of knotted boots hung over one shoulder. “Bad news, bro. Mice got into the attic and chewed up your backpack pretty bad. Frayed nylon and droppings are all over the place.”
Trixie stopped playing and got to her feet. “Darn it. Just like last year. I’d better go see where they’re coming in.”
“No hurry,” Mark said. “It’s probably from the winter.” But Trixie was already gone, eager to butt heads with nature again.
“How’s your pack?” Liam was suspicious. Mark had never been much of an athlete, and hadn’t been thrilled to hear about their weekend hiking plans.
“Mine’s perfect.” He smiled. “It was inside my college trunk.”
“Why wasn’t mine inside my college trunk?” He should have brought it to the condo, cramped though it was, even if Oakland was a convenient stopover on the way to the Sierra.
“Probably because you’ve used yours since college.” Mark sank into a recliner next to the piano and stretched out his legs. “Tough break. Guess we can’t go this weekend after all.”
“Nice try, you bum. I’ve got a rebate check at REI I’ve been meaning to use.” He looked at his watch. Still a couple hours before the store opened. “I’ve packed all the food and got everything else ready. We’ll load up the car and buy a new pack on the way. Even then we can still make the trailhead by midafternoon.”
Mark sighed and lumbered to his feet. “Yes, Scout Leader.”
“I’ll back up the car.” Liam walked outside. An unfamiliar late-model sedan was in Bev’s driveway; after a second’s hesitation he wandered closer to get a better look. He knew her sister had come up to stay with her, but with the break-in he didn’t want to assume anything. The old Chevy didn’t look like the kind of car a young L.A. girl would drive.
He moved closer and peeked through the passenger seat window, relieved to see a make-up bag, Diet Coke bottles, and an MP3 player strewn over the seat.